‘You should get some sleep,’ Stenwold advised.
‘I should have got some sleep last night,’ she corrected. ‘Tonight we’re going to stop the Wasps getting any sleep instead.’
‘Let someone else lead the flight.’
‘I see better in the dark.’ She sagged, looking very small, almost flimsy enough to blow away. ‘Pits, maybe you’re right, at that. When I came here, you remember what the deal was? You made me a new flier, I taught at your College — Associate Mastership or whatever. Didn’t say anything about commanding your air defences and fighting wars for you.’
‘I know, we owe you a great deal and we take you for granted,’ Stenwold confirmed. ‘At the moment I can’t afford not to take for granted those people I know can be relied on.’
‘Pisspoor compliment that is,’ she muttered. ‘Anyway, not as if I can exactly go home any time soon.’ Solarno, her home city, was held between the Wasps and their Spider allies: one of the first conquests of the war. ‘Might as well be here. At least I get to fly.’
‘Seriously, though, get some sleep. Those are War Master’s orders,’ he told her gently. ‘If they’re going to march tomorrow, we’ll need you fresh.’
She was cramming bread into her mouth and just nodded vaguely, dipping it into the wine to soften it, seeming almost too tired to chew. When she found him staring at her, she met his gaze with raised eyebrows, and that irreverence, at least, was something of her usual manner.
Then there was another Fly-kinden appearing at his door, with a brisk knock. Jodry’s secretary come to fetch him to deal with some new disaster of bureaucracy. Stenwold shrugged at Taki. ‘Finish the wine, if you can stomach it,’ he suggested, and then bustled out, only hoping that Taki would actually take his advice and get some sleep.
‘What’s this?’ Bergild demanded. She had been kicked out of fitful sleep by the complaints of her pilots that the engineers were tampering with their Farsphex. Most of her team slept beside or even inside their craft these days, what with the alarm ready to be sounded night or day. Also, many were so strung out on Chneuma that they barely slept at all. Any long period of inactivity just resulted in a sort of slack-jawed trance plagued by horrible, nightmarish daydreams, breaking into instant wake-fulness the moment the call to arms went up.
Now the engineers appeared to be set on making even their waking hours as unreal and unpleasant as possible.
‘What are you doing?’ she shouted. She had been in Oski’s tent, having been left there after nodding off in the small hours. The anticipated Collegium night attack had come and gone, but casualties had been lighter than expected. Although the Second was mustering for their attack, the enemy pilots had been put off their aim by the thick dark of cloud cover, and had wasted most of their cargo.
‘Orders,’ one of the engineers yelled over his shoulder. He was only a lieutenant and so there should have been a “sir”, but she was used to not receiving it. What she was not used to was the smell.
The engineers wore masks to exclude the worst of it, but a wide berth was already being given to her craft — and all the others, her mindlink confirmed — as a reeking mixture was slopped over every surface of the flier. It was. . she found it hard to say just what it was like: acrid and sharp, bringing tears to the eyes, and biting at the inside of her nose.
‘Whose orders?’ she wanted to know.
‘Captain Vrakir’s,’ and then, because the lieutenant registered how close she was, and that she had her hands open and slightly directed towards him, he added, ‘Sir.’
‘It’s the new plan, sir. Captain Nistic, that came a couple days ago, he gave us the recipe for this,’ another engineer explained. ‘We’re to paint it onto every flier we’ve got. And no, we don’t know why, sir, or what it’s for. But you’ve seen how the Red Watch faces up to the general. Empress’s own words, that’s what they say.’
And what makes you think the Empress knows the first thing about air combat? Bergild reflected. What makes you think she knows the first thing about what Captain Vrakir’s doing in her name, either? But this last observation sounded hollow even in her own mind. Whenever Vrakir spoke, there was some authority leaking out in his words that she could not account for. Certainly it was true that Tynan himself listened to him, even if he was plainly unhappy about it.
‘No problems, I’m sure, Captain?’
She jumped. The man was right behind her and she was unused to being surprised.
‘Captain Vrakir,’ she addressed him coldly, ‘what’s the meaning of this? Is this. . reek supposed to keep the Collegiates away?’
‘It’s a necessary precaution, that’s all. More than that, you-’
‘Don’t need to know,’ she finished for him, and had the pleasure of seeing his lips tighten in annoyance. ‘This plan of yours. .?’
He held a finger up. ‘Is not to be spoken of. You, Major Oski and his slave have been circumspect so far, and tomorrow — almost today, now — all will become clear to everyone, most especially to the Empress’s enemies. But don’t abandon your discretion. There could be Collegiate spies listening even now.’
The engineers, who had most surely been eavesdropping, resumed their foul task with exaggerated dedication.
Vrakir moved very close, but Bergild would not give ground before him. She found she regretted that when he spoke virtually into her ear, ‘You have seen, though. You know what we will do to them.’
‘I don’t think anyone knows what will happen once that surprise gets here,’ she replied, fighting down her instinct to squirm away from him. ‘Not you, and not Captain Nistic either. And you’ve seen him. He’s mad.’
‘A little savage, perhaps,’ Vrakir allowed, and she could almost mime his next words, they were so predictable: ‘but these are savage times. Believe me, Captain Nistic is devoted to the Empire. He and his fellows have waited a long time to bring their particular talents to bear.’
At last she stepped back, because that red badge of his, pressing almost against her shoulder, felt as though it might burn or bite her at any moment.
Then the alarm came instantly into her mind: Captain — enemy orthopters. She kicked off immediately and was halfway into her craft’s side-hatch, about to wriggle down the crawlspace for the cockpit, when she heard; Three — no, four only. Not stopping and keeping well north of us, and she decided, Scouts.
Not overflying the army, Captain. Pursue?
She had a mental image of their direction now, as though revealed on a map. ‘They’ve found your new toy, Vrakir,’ she told the man, who had caught up with her. ‘The Collegiates know it’s there, somehow. Four orthopters are off to look at it right now.’
For a moment his face froze, as if left unattended at the front of his head, while thoughts meshed behind it. ‘The escort can fend off four,’ he decided.
She nodded, ‘But your secret’s out.’
‘How much longer was it ever going to stay a secret?’ he pointed out. Whatever his source of inspiration, which seemed to recite the Empress’s plans seemingly without his knowing them before he spoke, it had obviously found him a new groove to run in. ‘Let them see. Let them run back to their city with the news. And you — every one of our pilots, whether Farsphex, Spearflight or even the Spider rabble — you’re to get into the air once you hear those orthopters heading back home. You’re to go and meet our airship and defend it from all comers.’