The Scarab Path (23 page)

Who are his Masters?
Accius wondered.

He felt
Malius shrug.
More Beetles. No doubt we will meet them in
time, instead of this functionary
.

And then what?What does the King expect of us, here?

We only observe
, Malius replied, but he sounded uncertain.
The Collegiates have some purpose in coming here, and it
can be no purpose friendly to Vek. Perhaps they seek military supplies or aid
.
He looked about the crowded dockside, noticing there was a distinctly primitive
feel to it.
Perhaps they seek expendable soldiers to send
against us. They could plan to offset our superior troops with sheer numbers
.

It was
Accius’s turn to shrug. Everyone was now moving on. Malius brought up the rear,
keeping watch over him as he forced himself to wade into the rushing torrent of
people, seeking to keep pace with the Maker woman.

He
reached out, felt Malius’s presence.
I would go mad. How
can they live like this?
The business of the docks was picking up again
all around them, so many flapping mouths, so much wasted noise.
Have we made a mistake in coming here? Is this merely a
diversion? Perhaps our comrades in Collegium have been killed by now. There may
already be a war
.

Malius
had no answer for him. Surrounded by his enemies, it was all Accius could do
not to draw his blade again.

Everything was going well. Everything was falling apart.

The Empire is here in Khanaphes
. Che recited the words to
herself in a tone of urgency. That, she insisted, explained the shock she felt
still resonating through her.
Thalric is in Khanaphes
.
She did not know what to make of it. When last they had met, over a year ago
now, he had been the big man in the Empire, consort of their new ruler. What
would such a prominent figure be doing here?

Concentrate on the Empire
, she urged herself.
Hypothesis one: the Empire is here because we are. Hypothesis
two: the Empire has an independent reason for being interested in Khanaphes.
Which leads us on to hypothesis three: We are here because the Empire is here,
and Uncle Sten didn’t trust me with the information. So when was I going to
find out?

She knew
now that she had to seek out their people in Khanaphes as soon as possible. In
light of this new discovery, it made sense that they must be Stenwold’s agents
as well. She had heard not a whisper that Stenwold had been plying his trade
this far out, but then a lifetime in the intelligencing business had made him
highly secretive, even with his own niece.

Too cursed secret, Uncle Sten
.

But
there was nothing she could do about it now. She pushed forward a little to
walk alongside Ethmet, very conscious both of the Khanaphir honour guard around
them, and the twitchy Vekken following just behind her.

‘Excuse
me, First Minister.’

‘What
may I provide you with, O Beautiful Foreigner?’ he asked, with an elegant
gesture of his spreading hands, from his stomach outwards. The mode of address
put her off balance, for all that it was an obvious formality.

‘Well …
I was wondering, there are some scholars from Collegium in the city already. I
was hoping to meet with them soon, just to catch up with their news.’

‘Why,
this has already been anticipated,’ Ethmet replied, with a small smile. ‘You
shall see as much, when we reach your dwelling.’ His manner should probably
have reminded her of the magnates of Collegium, but he lacked their vigorous
pomp and vanity. There was a quiet, self-contained authority to him, an
assurance that put her more in mind of Spider-kinden Aristoi or the seers of
the Moths. Here was a man who was absolutely sure of his place in the world.

She fell
back until she was close enough to Berjek Gripshod and the others to converse
with them. ‘Well?’ she said.

‘Speechless,’
Gripshod admitted. ‘I mean, look at the place – so much stone and so large. How
long did it take to piece all this together?’ He shook his head. ‘We were right
to come here. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘But
we
build in stone,’ Che pointed out.

‘Not
like this,’ he insisted. ‘New buildings in Collegium are constructed of brick,
or perhaps wood and plaster, at least above the first storey. It’s only the
grand old structures, the College and the Amphiophos, that are entirely of
dressed stone. And that’s only because they date from before the revolution.
Our erstwhile masters preferred stone – and so, clearly, do the Khanaphir. And look
– every piece is carved. Every piece.’

With all
the rest on her mind, after seeing
Thalric
here in
Khanaphes, she had not noticed it. Now the facades of the riverside warehouses
and residences came into focus as rank upon rank of elaborate inscriptions.
These carvings were hand-sized, square-ish, abstract, and everywhere, arranged
in rows as high as a man could reach, on every surface of stone she could see.
On some buildings, which looked older, they reached even higher, ascending all
the way to the flat roofs. The myriad pictures swam before her eyes, marching
for ever and for ever along every stone in an innumerable sequence.

‘I’ve
seen similar, and not just on the big mound-fort at Ostrander,’ Berjek
continued. ‘I believe they tell stories, even histories, in pictorial sequence,
but they’re so stylized as to defy comprehension. So much to study here! Give
me another twenty years!’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Give me a Moth-kinden’s
lifespan and I’d unravel it.’

Che felt
suddenly dizzy, stumbling so that Berjek had to grab her elbow to keep her
upright. For a moment she had seemed to perceive something more in the
carvings. It was as though she had seen the message behind them, not just a
series of drawings but as though words had been scribed there – jumbled words,
nonsense words. She felt the world lurch for a moment, on the edge of some
revelation that would still not come.

‘Steady
there,’ Berjek murmured. ‘The heat, I know. We all feel it.’

She
shook her head, frightened at the sudden shift in perspective. The carvings
were just carvings. She did not look at them, again, but focused ahead or
glanced downwards. Yet still she was aware of them, pressing on every side.

‘Look at
the bridge,’ Praeda Rakespear murmured suddenly. Khanaphes rose on both sides
of the river, and a solitary bridge spanned the flow to link the divided city.
It was a single soaring span resting on three pillars, and all faithfully
inscribed with large and comprehensible representations of hunting and farming
surrounded by the endless little pictograms continuing their never-ending
procession.

‘Architecturally
remarkable,’ Praeda declared, and Che knew her well enough to see how impressed
she was beyond that cool exterior.

‘Socially
remarkable,’ Berjek countered. ‘Look how low it sits. Then consider the docks
behind us and think about it.’

Che
understood instantly. ‘A ship couldn’t pass beyond the bridge – not without
taking down its mast at least.’

‘And so
they have total control of the river, simple as that,’ Berjek agreed. ‘There
must be riverside docks on the other side. Anything coming in, anything going
out, of any size – it must stop at Khanaphes.’

The city
had grown strangely, its original plan still visible but blurred by time. They
observed many great buildings, statues, columned arcades, palaces and gardens,
and in between them were the smaller homes of the artisans and labourers of the
city, huddled close together and yet always in sight of beauty. At first Che
approved. How much better was this than the squalid stews of Helleron! Then she
began to wonder if it had been intended that way at all. It seemed to her now –
she could almost envisage it in her mind – that there had once been empty space
between those grand edifices, and the people had taken over that space and made
it their own, built houses and workshops where once the great lords had
strolled. It was as though the architects had lost interest in their original
design, abandoning it to those who would actually live there.

The mere
sight of the gold-trimmed guards served to clear them a path ahead. The locals
stepped aside into side streets, into doorways, and watched in silence. Che
expected the fear that armed guards seemed to generate everywhere, even in
Collegium, but there was none of it here, only a quiet respect.

‘I am
afraid we have received no emissaries from your people previously.’ Ethmet
clasped his hands apologetically. ‘So we have had to borrow an embassy building
for your use. I hope that we will have caused no offence through our choice.’

‘Ah …
I’m not sure I understand you. We weren’t expecting you to have, what …
built
something for us …’ Che replied uncertainly.

‘Ah, no
indeed, but we have played host to foreign potentates before, though none for
some time … not until recently.’ The guards stopped suddenly, and Che nearly
crashed into the one in front of her. Ethmet had stopped simultaneously with
them, of course, and his expression generously overlooked her clumsiness. ‘We
are now at the Place of Honoured Foreigners. Pray do me the honour of
following, and I shall show you what we have managed to set aside for you.’

He
stepped into a smaller side street overlooked on one side by three-storey
facades marked out with small doors and smaller windows, and on the other by a
looming blank wall whose expanse was pierced only by an arch. Ethmet stepped
through this entrance, and Che and her company could only follow.

She bent
to whisper to Trallo, ‘Do you know what’s going on now? Is this their usual
welcome?’

The
Fly’s lips were pressed together and he shook his head.

They
stepped out again into a world of sunlight and wonder and the sound of running
water. Che’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of it.

The
Place of Honoured Foreigners was a broad open square, lined on three sides by
great buildings, veritable palaces. There was a continuous band of rushes
fringing the open space, interrupted only where little bridges crossed them to
reach the steps of each palace, and where two archways gave access to the wider
city beyond. In the centre was a pool, a marble-floored rectangle floored with
an intricate mosaic that promised meaning and delivered nothing, just like the
ubiquitous pictograms. Che could not stop herself from running over to stare
into it. The water was clear as glass, no more than twelve inches deep. Tiny
fish and water insects sculled across it, wholly oblivious to their audience.
Benches of carved stone lined the pool’s two long sides, and the quarters of
the square around it were set with four crescents of green, tall grass and
ferns.

Che
shook her head. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, forgetting diplomacy and just
divulging what was in her mind.

‘We are
pleased that you find it so,’ Ethmet said mildly. The academics were meanwhile
staring about themselves like people in a dream. Only the two Vekken remained
aloof, doubtless waiting for some trap to be sprung. Even the removal of the
guards had not improved their mood.

‘The
larger arch, in the far wall, leads into the Place of Government and the
Scriptora, where I and my fellow servants of our Masters dwell. Once you have
had a chance to acclimatize yourselves, perhaps you would consent to visit us
there. We would hold a banquet in your honour, if you would agree. For now, we
have set aside this house to be your residence, while you are among us.’ One of
Ethmet’s hands indicated a column-fronted building adjacent to the arch through
which they had entered.

Che
turned to look at it and she could not help giving a cry of dismay. As she
recoiled back, only Berjek’s quick grab for her arm stopped her toppling into
the pool.

Each of
the palaces – the embassies she supposed – had statues standing before it,
flanking the door, but she had not registered that they were not statues of
locals. They were not even like the cold, beautiful watchers flanking the Estuarine
Gate. These were faces she recognized, or some of them.

The
stone visages that met her gaze were those of cowled Moth-kinden. In that first
glance, the male of the pair had seemed close enough to Achaeos to nearly stop
her heart.

A lot of
people were talking to her, but she could not focus on what they were saying.
For a moment the air about the statue blurred, and she feared that his ghost
would emerge from it to chastise her. The impression was soon gone, though, the
blur due only to the heat. She felt stifled by the sheer number of people
trying to find out what was wrong with her, and she virtually elbowed her way
past Berjek and Manny and Trallo, until faced by the old man Ethmet.

She had
finally elicited a genuine expression out of him, and it was surprised concern.
Nobody had laid this trap deliberately, it had all been mere chance.
Predictably, the Vekken had drawn their swords, but she did not feel she had
the strength to reason with them again.

‘It was
… it was nothing,’ she got out.

‘We have
displeased you,’ Ethmet said mournfully. ‘You must forgive us our ignorance of
your ways.’

‘No, no,
please,’ she said, and she looked the statue directly in its cold face.

Can I live with this, even for a tenday? What should I say, if I
cannot? How could I explain?

I must live with it. The alternatives are too humiliating
.

‘Please
…’ she said. ‘Please, it is just … the journey was long and I am tired, very
tired.’ The Vekken resheathed their blades sullenly, obviously resenting their
inability to use them.

‘Of
course,’ said Ethmet. He made a quick signal and the porters began moving the
expedition’s baggage inside. Che heard a startled cry from within, but she was
already gazing around at the other embassies, the other statues that adorned
them. She saw Spider-kinden, clearly recognizable by their features, although
the garments were strange. She saw long-faced, hunchbacked people she could not
name, and beside them were lanky Grasshoppers. There were even two that might
have been Dragonflies.