‘She was leading an assault on Collegium’s citizens,’ Stenwold pointed out, angry at being put so spuriously on the defensive. ‘Do you call her death an injustice?’
Teornis’s smile had an edge on it that would put Danaen’s blades to shame. ‘No, Maker, I do not. It was just, because she was killed in due reprisal for her actions. It was just, because she was killed by her own recklessness. However, she was family, a true member of the Aldanrael’s female line, and her death has set in motion events that care nothing for Beetle justice. Your people speak at endless length about rights, Stenwold. They bleat on about humanity’s mutual regard, and who can do what to whom. There are no rights. You are entitled to only what you can cut or charm out of life. If our armada does bring its full force to bear on your city, and breaks your defences, and kills your soldiers, and enslaves your people, then, yes, that will be unjust, but the world will not care. Justice is like some unnatural hybrid flower you people have bred. It will not live long unless you keep it sheltered and warm.’
‘And is that what you want? Collegium in chains?’ Stenwold asked him, privately considering that Sarn and the Ancient League and, yes, perhaps even Vek might have something to say should those ships arrive.
‘No, of course not,’ Teornis said, seeming genuinely angry, frustrated even, ‘but you are binding my hands, Maker. My family will not be easily pacified now. I advise you to find a means of mollifying them, for if the armada sets sail, then nothing in the world will stop it, and it will make the fleet I led against the Vekken seem like nothing. And we both know what will happen while we are at each other’s throats. The Black and Gold will be at Sarn’s doorstep before we’re done, and probably Seldis’s as well.’
‘So you propose,’ Stenwold laid out slowly, ‘that in return for your family plundering half of the eastbound cargoes Collegium has sent out over the last six months, killing our mariners and practising this deceit on us – in return for all of this we should offer some grand gift and beg your forgiveness for having offended you?’
‘As I say, manifestly unjust, but then consider your alternatives,’ Teornis told him.
A new voice spoke up, ‘I have an alternative.’ It was Danaen.
Stenwold frowned at her uncertainly for a moment, but decided to follow her lead. ‘My Mantis-kinden would have me give the order to kill you,’ he said. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘Are you suggesting that would solve anything?’ Teornis asked him.
‘It would solve my immediate problem. Perhaps it would send the right kind of message to the Aldanrael. But, no, it is not a course of action I am eager to try. I remember when you and I stood on the same side, Teornis. I never looked for anything but your friendship, but neither can I stand by and let my city fall victim to… pointless acts of brigandage. So what am I to do?’
‘Let me kill him,’ Danaen said promptly.
Teornis curled his lip. ‘Your Mantis makes great presumptions about her capabilities.’
‘This is not helping,’ Stenwold stated. ‘We came to talk, not to fight.’
Danaen spat. ‘I’ve told you, Maker, there’s only one way to deal with Spiders. If you won’t take that step, I will.’
‘You will not!’ Stenwold snapped in return.
Her eyes blazed rebelliously. The Dragonfly-kinden that Teornis had brought were reaching for arrows.
‘Felyen! To me!’ Danaen yelled out. There was a moment’s startled pause and then a half-dozen Mantis-kinden were clambering over the sides of the barge, dripping wet but armed to the teeth. The Dragonflies had their bows bent instantly, and Teornis’s Ants formed up around him, with shields raised.
‘Why, Maker? Why use Mantis-kinden?’ Teornis cried out. ‘Any other race might possibly exercise some self-control, some rational restraint, but Mantis-kinden? You might as well have cut the throat of any chance for peace between us.’
Stenwold was barely listening to him. ‘Danaen, what is this?’ he demanded, aware that Padstock’s people had brought their snapbows up.
‘You do not need to ask, Beetle,’ the Mantis leader told him. Her reinforcements had now spread out across the deck in a loose crescent, ready to descend on Teornis’s guards.
And on Teornis’s ship someone will be watching the sky to ensure nobody comes flying to our aid, Stenwold thought wildly, but they will not be watching the sea. Who would think that they could just swim over?
‘What of Mantis honour,’ he demanded, ‘that commodity you speak so highly of? The Mantis-kinden I have known would not betray me so!’
The look Danaen turned on him was of pure scorn. ‘The Mantis you knew was a blood traitor, a breeder of abomination,’ she hissed at him. ‘Do not think you know us, Beetle. Do not think you know us, at all.’
Stenwold must have missed a signal then: not from the Mantids but from Teornis himself. The next thing he knew was the cold line of a dagger against his throat, and someone holding him tightly from behind. His first thought was that it was one of the Mantids, but then he heard Arianna’s voice whisper, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Everyone still now,’ Teornis commanded. ‘Mantis swords back in Mantis sheaths, and you Beetles can aim those bows down at the floor. If you’re talking about justice, Maker, your people have a poor way of showing it.’
Stenwold stared only at him, because to twist his head to look at Arianna would hurt too much, above and beyond the knife. He expected to see contempt in his opponent’s face, that a man who set himself up as a follower of the Dance should fall for such a transparent trick, but instead he surprised a pinprick of sympathy in the man’s expression.
‘Now, we will talk,’ Teornis declared.
‘You mistake us, Spider,’ Danaen said, with evident relish. ‘Have your traitor gut the fat old man if you wish. What is he to me?’
Teornis’s reserve held. ‘He is the spokesman of your new adopted city, or would you betray that as well?’ he demanded archly.
She sneered. ‘In even considering dealing with the likes of you, he has betrayed all right-thinking people. Kill him, or I shall kill him. I care not which.’
Teornis’s eyes found Stenwold’s gaze again, and his expression seemed to carry the accusation: Your death be on your own head, since you chose to deal with these fanatics.
And it’s true, Stenwold thought, but the Mantis meant nothing to him just then. It was another betrayal that had cut him deeper.
The four Kessen Ants grouped tighter about Teornis, each sharing thoughts with the next, ready to fend off the sudden Mantis strike that must be only seconds away. Stenwold could imagine Padstock and her people on the very edge of doing something unwise to Arianna, whose knife edge was like a razor at his throat. He could hear her ragged breathing and her arm about his neck was trembling slightly. Her regrets are going to kill me at any second, but at least she has them. The Dragonflies had bowstrings drawn back.
‘Any bloodshed here and my ship will move in and rid the world of all of you,’ Teornis declared flatly, ‘Mantis bravado or not, you gain nothing here. The armada will still sail, and if you shed a drop of my blood my kin will… a-’ He stopped speaking, mouth still open, his eyes fixed entirely elsewhere. A ripple of uncertainty ran through the cordon of Mantis-kinden, staying their hands for a precious second or two.
‘Arianna…’ Stenwold got out.
‘Just stay still,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Sten. I really don’t want to hurt you. Please, please call them off.’
‘I don’t think I can…’ he started to say, and she screamed and pushed him away from her.
He assumed she had been shot, but there had been no sudden crack of a snapbow. Then he thought she had sliced him, for pain lashed across his neck, but it was nothing but a shallow nick left by the sudden withdrawal of her knife. Then chaos and devastation were let loose, for Arianna’s scream had set the Mantids in motion.