Blood of the Mantis

Gaved smiled slightly. It tugged at the burn-scar and did little to enhance his features. ‘You have a deal, then.’

Three

The war with Vek had made many names newly famous in Collegium, but none so comfortable with it as Teornis of the Aldanrael, Spider-kinden Aristos and Lord-Martial of Seldis, whose naval assault had broken the Vekken army, burning their ships and landing his mercenary soldiers along the beaches to drive the Ant-kinden from the city. He had been paraded through the streets in triumph and, though he had been in the company of a great many others, it had been Teornis that the men and women of Collegium had talked about afterwards, especially the women. He was young and handsome and always impeccably dressed.

And of course it had not been long before rumour had whispered of his other victory against the Wasp Empire that threatened them even now. Why, he had held off an entire Wasp army for whole tendays with only 200 men…

For accommodation he had been given the best rooms in the guest wing of the Amphiophos, and he had not let them suffer beneath their somewhat overblown Beetle style, but had lavished them with draped silks and cushions – or rather his servants had. What matter that he would be staying there only a few days?

When Stenwold entered, Teornis was lounging on a couch, with two brightly clad Fly-kinden servants dancing attendance on him. Servants or slaves? Stenwold wondered. Slavery was outlawed in Collegium but was the cornerstone of Spiderlands society, and nobody was inclined to pose that question for fear of the reply. It helped, all the same, that there was not a manacle to be seen, and Teornis’ staff were dressed as richly as Collegium’s merchant magnates.

‘Master Maker,’ the Spider greeted him in a pleasant, reassuring voice. Like the best of his kind he was the consummate socialite, all things to all audiences. ‘Thank you for accepting my invitation. Pray join me.’

Stenwold cautiously moved to the couch facing him, accepting a goblet of wine from one servant, a honeyed locust from the other. Behind Teornis, a sultry Spider maiden reclined on her side amidst the cushions and watched Stenwold curiously, but the Beetle found himself thinking, I have a sultry Spider maiden of my own, and he smiled at that.

‘War Master Maker, I should have said,’ Teornis added.

Stenwold swallowed the locust and held up a hand. ‘Please not that title, Lord-Martial. I have no stomach for it.’

‘Then I shall call you Stenwold, and you must call me Teornis.’

‘You are too kind.’

‘I am just kind enough,’ said the Spider. ‘You are now a hero to your people. I shall flatter you outrageously until you agree to my every demand.’ His smile was the whitest Stenwold had ever seen. ‘I always thought myself fond of titles, but even I find mine has begun to weigh on me. There seem to be ever more matters martial to deal with these days.’

Stenwold nodded. ‘Someone in a hurry addressed me just “War Maker” today.’

‘A hazard of a practical surname.’

‘It could be worse.’ Stenwold found himself smiling again. ‘When I was a student here, there was a fellow called Hiram Master who entered into the Assembly. Nobody had thought about it, but suddenly he was Master Master. He resigned a tenday later.’

Teornis laughed politely. ‘Stenwold, are you currently in the right frame of mind to discuss Spiderland politics?’

‘Is there ever a right frame of mind, for my people?’

‘Nonetheless, there are matters we must discuss. I have been called back home. My mother and my sisters and my aunts have decided that my military skills, such as they are, are now required at Seldis. The Wasps are liable to take the annihilation of their Fourth Army rather badly. We will, of course, say that we have no control over those reckless Mantis savages and never have had. We have even sent messages of condolence, though I would not want to be one of those messengers.’

‘You think the Wasp Empire will attack the Spider-lands.’