Heirs of the Blade_ Shadows of the Apt_ Book Seven - Adiran Tchaikovsky [22]
‘Look,’ the Wasp was saying, ‘I’m doing all right here. I’m clear of the black and gold for the first time in my life. We’ve settled down. They don’t . . . know how it was, with me.’
His own past was surely sufficiently larded with bloody-handed deeds that the Commonwealers would want to be rid of him, if they knew. Probably he had turned his hunting talents upon them during the Empire’s war, and even Siriell’s renegades were unlikely to forgive that. Just as his reaction to her had mirrored hers to him, so might he have kindred reasons for seeking her silence.
Besides, he had said ‘We’, and that meant he was still with the strange Spider girl, Sef, he had taken from Jerez, and surely Tynisa bore that wretched woman no ill will.
I should have just killed him.
Suddenly there were repercussions and uncertainties, no matter how honest he was being with her, and an uncomfortable part of herself said that was because life was never as simple as she was trying to paint it.
But she had come this far, and she knew that, after killing him, she would be able to paint again, to interpret the result however she wished. What other witnesses were there to gainsay her? She realized that she was on the brink of a precipice within her mind, and to go one step further would be to lose some fraying but fundamental connection with the world.
She felt her body flow into line, taking up her fighting stance within herself, even though nothing showed outwardly, so that, when the attack came, she would be sublimely ready for it.
Gaved must have sensed something, too, for he exploded into motion that was a counterbalance for her poised stillness. His wings took him back, ten feet away from the fire, his hands outstretched, one before him, the other pointing upwards.
Already the Dragonfly-kinden were dropping down towards them. A half-dozen came sleeting down around the fire like random arrows, while Tynisa could hear at least a dozen more approaching from all round. In their bickering, she and Gaved had let them get perilously close.
That they were Siriell’s Town natives was clear enough: there was nothing of Prince Felipe’s court about them. All wore a mismatch of armour, from leather and chitin to fragments of glittering noble plate and discarded Imperial war leavings. Several carried bows but, as their grounded infantry approached cautiously, she saw the bulk of them had spears, along with the occasional long-hafted sword. Some were lean and lanky Grasshoppers, but the bulk were Dragonflies, and she looked in their faces, feeling such a sense of waste. They were poised and elegant, but where they should have been beautiful, their harsh lives and harsher deeds had marked them with scars and filth and ugly expressions.
‘Now then,’ Gaved said quietly. He had his hands each directed at one of the archers, and in return most of the arrows were angled his way. Tynisa had attracted her share of the spears, but they were misreading her calm quiet and seeing her as the lesser threat.
‘You’ve got an invitation, Gaved,’ said one of the few swordsmen, thus helpfully identifying himself to Tynisa as the leader of this little rabble. ‘Siriell has a few more questions for you, about just what your business here is.’
‘Not a problem,’ the Wasp replied, his easy tone belied by his stance. ‘I’ll drop in on her when I’m next passing through. I always have time for Siriell.’
‘Now, Gaved,’ the leader demanded. ‘Tonight.’
Their numbers should have been overwhelming, of course, but they hung back. They don’t want to hurt him? Want to keep him alive for Siriell? Tynisa wondered, but she noticed how they swayed back a little, whenever Gaved moved. It’s because he’s a Wasp, she realized. These cowards think he’s got the Light Airborne hidden in his pocket or something.
‘Take him,’ the leader snapped, with