‘From Everis, Siennis and Seldis, certainly,’ Teornis said, ‘but it would be somewhat presumptuous of me to speak for the Spiderlands entire. Yes, General. We have been watching your Empire with some approbation recently. Our agents have reported on your conquest of Tark, and it seems you have done the impossible with embarrassing ease.’
Alder allowed himself to nod. ‘The Emperor commands and the Empire obeys, Lord. Martial,’ he said, stumbling a little over the unfamiliar title.
Teornis permitted himself a wry smile. ‘You are a military man, General. A direct man.’
‘I try to be. So I will ask again, what is the purpose of your embassy?’
‘We are concerned, General.’ Teornis signalled for a chair to be brought forwards for Alder and, with that politeness accomplished, slouched back into his own. Alder decided that standing would give him the advantage, but then changed his mind when he saw how Teornis took his ease, and found to his embarrassment that it was inexplicably too late to sit. He felt surrounded by an invisible net of unfamiliar manners.
‘We have no quarrel with your Empire,’ Teornis went on, regardless. ‘We wish you well, in fact, should you decide to sack any other Ant-kinden cities. We are certain, from our intelligence gathered, that you will make us better trading partners than the Tarkesh ever did. I only wish to make sure you understand our position.’
Alder nodded. Matters were falling at last into a recognizable pattern. ‘You want to be sure we’re not coming for you and yours.’
‘Precisely, General.’
‘Well then that’s simple,’ Alder said, now anxious to conclude the interview as quickly as possible. ‘The Empire wishes the Spiderlands nothing but peace. Our business is with the Lowlands only.’
‘Splendid.’ Teornis smiled dazzlingly. ‘I thought as much, but our women back home insisted I put together this expedition and talk to you about it directly.’
Alder allowed himself the smallest answering smile. ‘I had expected to be dealing with a female of your kind, Lord-Martial.’
‘They have better things to do,’ said Teornis, ‘than play soldier.’ It was only later, much later, that Alder recognized this as an insult. At the time Teornis’s tone and expression suggested only one man joking with another. Then the Spider continued, ‘So I anticipate Kes will be your next conquest.’ Alder glanced at the Ant soldiers behind him, but Teornis waved his concerns away. ‘Mercenaries, General, worry not. I am afraid we are a terrible influence on the young men and women of Kes. They see, you understand, that even a servant of ours lives better than a lord of theirs.’
It was hard to deny. ‘Then Kes it is,’ Alder admitted. ‘After we have secured Egel and Merro of course. There will be no forays further southwards, never fear.’
But Teornis’s smile had evaporated and a whole sea-change had blown across the entire Spider embassy, as though sudden winter had rushed in off the coast. ‘Pardon my impudence, General,’ Teornis said, ‘but you contradict yourself.’
Alder resisted the urge to check that his men were still close behind. ‘How so?’ he asked.
‘Egel and Merro are not part of the Lowlands. They are ours.’
Alder stared at him. ‘Not on my maps,’ he said.
‘Your maps aside, General, both Egel and Merro have been holdings of the Spiderlands almost since they were settled. Our own histories are very clear on that point.’
Alder risked a glance at Major Maan, who interpreted that as a chance to speak. ‘I am afraid,’ he said firmly, ‘that you are quite mistaken. Our agents have been informed by the very occupants of those towns that they are Low-landers.’
And Teornis laughed at him, not scornfully but so politely as to cut to the bone. ‘I am afraid that your agents have fallen victim to one of the local Fly-kinden pastimes, which is to playfully misdirect strange travellers. Let us hope that they did not also purchase any priceless gems or talented slaves at bargain prices. I am afraid that the Fly-kinden of these two towns, if indeed they are not simply one town with two names, find it convenient to claim themselves as either Lowlanders or subjects of my own people, depending on the asker. They are a duplicitous and untrustworthy people, and no doubt we would best be rid of them, but nonetheless they are our subjects. Any attempt to impose your Empire’s rule over them would amount to a declaration of war. I am no great strategist, but such a development would I think weaken your Empire’s position.’
‘War, is it?’ Alder growled.
‘I hope it need not come to that. Perhaps you would provide us with your maps and we can then correct them,’ suggested Teornis innocently.
‘You have a mere two hundred men here, Lord-Martial. What do you think would happen if I decided I should send a definite message back to your people?’
Teornis shrugged, slinging a leg up over the arm of his chair. ‘Oh, you’d send them my head in a box, no doubt, which is another reason I’m doing this thankless job and not, say, my sister or my mother. And we would then have to muster our armies, which is a tiresome enough proposal to make me glad that I would be dead by that point. And then we would fight, I suppose.’
Alder narrowed his eyes. ‘Perhaps you should be more concerned, Lord-Martial. I have automotives here, flying machines, artillery. Your people are Inapt. Will you bring bows and arrows against us?’
Teornis’s smile broadened. ‘It’s true,’ he replied, ‘I wouldn’t know what to do with a crossbow, if someone should thrust such a distasteful object into my hands. We do not trouble ourselves with all that greasy machine-fondling that some kinden seem to find so irresistible. No, we have — how shall I put it? — people to do that for us. We have plenty of Ant-kinden and Beetle-kinden hired with us, and many more within our satrapies further south. The Empire is not the only one to have subject peoples. Do not think, General, that we cannot field all that clanking metal palaver if we need to.’
‘So your position is clear,’ Alder said grimly.
‘It is, and it is one of the open hand of friendship — or, as you are Wasps, the closed hand, I believe, is more appropriate. We wish nothing but peace and trade with your mighty and admirable Empire.’ Teornis sprang from his chair effortlessly to look Alder in the eye. ‘But if your hand comes against Egel or Merro or any of our holdings, then you and I, General, shall be at war, and nobody shall profit from that in any way.’
Back in his camp, Alder called his officers together and gave them the situation.
‘I think they’re bluffing,’ he explained, but he saw from their faces he had few takers.
‘A war on two fronts would be disastrous, sir,’ Carvoc said. ‘To take Kes we will need to concentrate all our efforts.’
‘Even if we bypass the Fly townships,’ one of his field majors remarked, ‘they could attack anyway, cut our supply lines.’
‘And we just do not know what they can field,’ Major Maan added. Teornis’ people seemed to have particularly impressed him. ‘The Spiderlands are, we know, very large, and they could bring in troops by sea-’
‘Yes, Major,’ Alder interrupted heavily. Just this morning his world had been so simple. Now his conversation with Teornis had struck it a severe blow and crazed it with far too many complications. He was a soldier, not a diplomat, and he did not want to be the man to go to war with an unmeasured enemy nation.
‘Send the fastest messenger we have back to Asta,’ he said. ‘I need to know imperial policy on this.’
And in the meantime the Fourth Army would sit idle.
The Cloudfarer had reached Helleron through clement weather, but it was not the same city that Totho remembered. Not that he remembered it fondly, but the city that came to his mind instead was Myna, with Wasp soldiers and Auxillians everywhere on the streets, and a hunted look in the eyes of the locals.
General Malkan had come to meet them at the airfield in person, clasping Drephos’s gauntleted hand. Filled with enthusiasm, he seemed barely older than Totho himself.
‘Colonel Drephos, a pleasure,
’ he said. ‘Since I heard you were expected here I have had clerks taking stock of every foundry and factory in the city.’
‘Most kind, General,’ Drephos said. ‘Have my people arrived yet?’
‘And your machinery. They all came in with the garrison force.’
‘Excellent.’ Drephos turned to Totho. ‘You have had a chance to consider the plans?’
‘I have, sir.’ In the freezing air that the Cloudfarer flew in, he had been hunched close by the windbreak of the clockwork engine, scribbling his alterations and additions. All for Salma he had reflected. I made this bargain, and now I must keep it. But beyond those sentiments his busy mind had been concerned only with the calculations, the mechanical principles.
‘Then let us unleash them on Helleron,’ Drephos said eagerly. ‘It’s not often I have a whole city to work for me. General Malkan, pray show me what you have for us.’
How long I have wished to see the factories of Helleron, was the ironic thought as Totho entered one. I had not thought it would be like this. He meant as an invader, an imperial artificer, but he also meant as a master rather than a menial. As he and Drephos, and Drephos’s ragbag of other picked artificers, came in, the factory work had been totally stilled. A great crowd of workers were gathered there, the staff of three factories waiting to receive their new orders. Malkan had been quick in providing Drephos with whatever he should need and Totho knew that the general was one of a new breed of Wasp officers. Malkan was not just a slave to maps and charts and the slow movements of troop formations. He actually liked artificers and the way they could win wars more efficiently, more quickly, than ever before. Drephos was the Empire’s most gifted artificer on the western front, and Malkan was keen to see that he was kept happy.
‘My name is Colonel-Auxillian Dariandrephos,’ the half-breed announced, his voice ringing from the gantry he stood on across the echoing factory floor. ‘You will refer to me as Master, or Sir. Most importantly, you will do what you are instructed without needless question, without debate, without retort. I want you to have no illusions about your situation here.’ He cast his narrow gaze over them, the working men and women of Helleron. He had his cowl thrown back leaving them no doubts about what he was.
‘These men and women with me,’ Drephos told the workers, ‘are my elite staff. You will address them as ‘sir’ and do exactly what they instruct you. In my absence, they are my voice.’
Totho could feel the resentment boiling up from these hard-working men and women whose lives had come under new management. It was not that this was a new factory owner telling them what to do, nor even that he was a foreigner. What rankled with them was that Drephos was a halfbreed and, worst of all, a Moth halfbreed, born partly from that superstitious, primitive tribe that raided their mine-workings north of the city. Here he was, claiming to be an artificer, and appalling chance had placed him as their superior.
‘I myself will have no illusions here. You hate and resent me,’ Drephos continued. ‘I, on the other hand, have no feelings whatsoever concerning you, collectively or individually. I wish you to think about precisely what that means. It means that if any one of you comes to my notice in a way that displeases me, or any of my people here, then that man or woman shall become my object lesson. Work hard and well and you shall escape my notice, which shall be best for all concerned.’
They still stirred rebelliously, and so he smiled at them lopsidedly. ‘You may have heard from your leaders that some amicable arrangement has been reached between your people and the Wasps of the Empire. It is not so. We own you. You work at our command. I invite any of you here to dispute it.’
He signalled, and a dozen Wasp soldiers came to attention. ‘Now get these people back to their work,’ he said. ‘Bring all the foremen up here, though. I have one final thing to say to them.’ He turned to Totho and the others, seeming very pleased with himself.
‘Your comments?’
‘They will not serve you willingly,’ Kaszaat said. ‘Not at first. Surly and angry, they are.’
‘It’s only natural,’ Drephos said, not a bit daunted. ‘They are a skilled workforce, though, and only in Helleron is such skill so taken for granted. Nowhere else could you lay hands on so many trained people. We must therefore ensure that their talents are put entirely at our disposal.’ He turned again as two men and one woman were brought up to the gantry. ‘Well now,’ he addressed them. ‘You are my foremen, are you?’
Two of them merely nodded but one of them was quicker on the uptake and said, ‘Yes, Master.’
‘Master,’ Drephos echoed. ‘Such a versatile word, is it not?’ They looked at him blankly, and he elaborated. ‘Amongst your kinden, of course, it is a great term of respect. Your College scholars, your magnates, the great among you, are called ‘Masters’. Among the Wasp-kinden it is any man who owns a slave, and therefore has rights of life or death over that slave.’ His smile was thin and hard-edged. ‘So it will now be the choice of you and your workers just what interpretation we shall apply to that word. Do I make myself understood?’
He had, and they nodded unhappily, and murmured the title for him.
‘I am anticipating troublemakers,’ he told them. ‘The lazy, the impertinent, the disobedient, the talentless.’
‘Oh no, Master,’ said the woman amongst them. ‘We’ll be sure of that. No slackers in our houses. No backtalk either.’
‘You misunderstand me,’ said Drephos. ‘I am anticipating them. There are such in any body of workers, perhaps a dozen in every factory.’
The foremen were exchanging glances, approaching the point of denying it and then drawing back.
‘I am anticipating,’ Drephos explained happily, ‘that they will be singled out by you there, and reported to my soldiers. I am anticipating that my guards will have some three dozen such malcontents brought to me within the first five days of work here. Choose those who contribute least, or stir up trouble, or whom you personally dislike, whatever you will, but I will be very unhappy if my anticipations are not borne out.’
The two men nodded slowly now, looking as miserable as Totho had seen anyone in a long time, but the woman said, ‘Excuse me, Master, but. what shall be done with them, once your guardsmen have them?’
‘They will be allowed to participate in other parts of the creative process,’ Drephos told her. She paled a little at that, and then the soldiers began ushering all three away.
‘Some promise there, I think,’ Drephos mused, glancing back at his cadre of artificers. Besides Kaszaat and Totho there were two Beetle-kinden that must surely be twin brother and sister, a halfbreed that looked to mingle Wasp and Beetle blood, and a hulking nine-foot Mole Cricket whose weight made the whole gantry creak.
‘Master Drephos. ’ Totho started, feeling deeply uneasy about it all.
‘Ah, Totho,’ Drephos said. He was clearly in a fine mood today. ‘You have seen the prototype?’
‘I have, Master Drephos, but. ’
‘What do you think?’ Drephos began descending the stairs to the factory floor where the workers were being given their new machining projects, designs and specifications for unfamiliar parts and pieces.
‘The new loading mechanism seems to work very smoothly,’ Totho said, drawn from his original intent by the need to discuss the finer aspects of the technical work. ‘It will need to be machined very exactly on the finished version, though. There will be little room for error, to avoid jamming.’
‘That would be a problem anywhere else,’ Drephos agreed, ‘but here in Helleron the skills and the equipment have come together in glad harmony. In the Empire we would have had to compromise, but the Emperor’s generals have made their plans as if they had my very wishes in mind, because Helleron is ours, and here we are.’
‘Aside from that, I think we may have to redesign the grooving within the barrel, or at least test variations of spacing and angle.’
‘Granted,’ Drephos said. ‘Test it then. Conclusions in two days. By then we s
hould be ready for the spiralling lathe work on the first batch.’
‘First batch, Master?’ Totho enquired.
‘You weren’t thinking of making just one of them, surely?’ Drephos grinned at him, teeth flashing in his motley-coloured face. ‘Like a showpiece? A museum curiosity? What do you think these factories are for, Totho?’
‘All for. you can’t mean it, surely?’ Totho felt weak, stumbling on the stairs so that Kaszaat had to reach out and grab his arm to steady him.
‘Explain to Master Totho how we do things,’ Drephos flung the words over his shoulder.
Kaszaat was grinning, and most of the others smiled at least a little, their newest colleague still learning how things were done.
‘One project at a time is the rule,’ Kaszaat explained. ‘When we really get to work, when the war effort calls, all resources are devoted to one project. This time you’re the lucky one. It’s your project. Three factories, hundreds of workers, all of us, all concentrated on your devices.’
The thought made his head swim. It was all happening far too fast for him.
‘I had better start my testing,’ he said. The other artificers were already fanning out across the factory, each heading to his or her own task. Kaszaat was about to go as well, when Totho caught her arm.
‘Tonight I. Could I talk. come to talk to you, tonight? I need. I just need. ’
‘You just need someone,’ her smile was ambiguous, ‘and I can be that someone. Perhaps I need a someone also, sometimes.’
Twenty-Six
‘The gates are sealed,’ said Lineo Thadspar. He looked older than ever.
‘Did the last train get away?’ Stenwold asked him.
‘No, they were too long in loading it.’ The Speaker of the Assembly sat down at a War Council that was greatly different in constitution to the first one. As the Vekken army had neared there had been many who had decided that war was, after all, not for them, and others had surfaced in whom an undreamt-of martial fervour had been kindled. The stone seats were lined with College Masters, artificers and city magnates who had found in themselves the means to greet the hour. And that hour had now come.
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