Free Dragonfly Falling by Adrian Tchaikovsky Page B

aren’t renowned for having new
thoughts, but one reason for that is that the old ones have always served us
pretty well. We know how to build a wall that won’t come down.’
    ‘And of course, this is
another thing their . . . tacticians out there will have noted. That they will
need more . . .’ Totho mused. ‘What are their artificers like, Salma?’
    ‘I’m no judge,’ the
Dragonfly admitted. ‘They’re like people who put big metal things together.
That’s about my limit.’
    ‘It’s an odd thing,’
said Nero, ‘but the best imperial artificers, in my experience, are Auxillians:
slave-soldiers or experts from the subject-races. True Wasps always prefer to
be proper warriors, which is more about the fighting and less the tinkering
around. I’ve had a good look out there and a lot of the big toys are in hands
other than the Wasps’.’
    ‘Can they be turned?’
Totho asked immediately. ‘They’re slaves, after all. If they turn on their
masters, with our help, they could escape into the Lowlands—’
    Salma was shaking his
head and Nero chuckled. ‘You’d assume, with all their experience as
slave-owners, that the Wasps would have spotted that one, boy. Which is exactly
why they have. Any funny business from those poor bastards down there, and their
families will get to know about it in the worst way. And, besides, if some
platoon of Bee-kinden, hundreds of miles from home, does decide to go it alone,
you think they’ll be welcomed any, in Tark? Or anywhere else? And home for them
is now within the Empire’s borders, so any man jumping ship will never get to
see it again.’
    Salma nodded. ‘I should
tell you something, I think, at this point.’
    Nero and Parops
exchanged glances. ‘Go on, boy, don’t hold it in,’ the Fly-kinden prompted.
    Salma’s smile turned
wry. ‘I didn’t come here just for Stenwold’s war, or even my own people’s war.
Not just to fight the Wasps, anyway.’
    Totho nodded,
remembering. Salma had barely mentioned the lure that had drawn him on this
errand, which had originally been Skrill’s errand alone. Totho had almost
forgotten that himself, amidst the catalogue of his own woes.
    ‘Don’t keep us in
suspense,’ Nero said.
    ‘A woman, I’m afraid.’
Salma smiled brightly. ‘I came here after a woman.’
    ‘A Wasp woman?’ Parops
asked.
    ‘No, but I’m told she’s
with the camp. With some order of theirs, the . . . Grace’s Daughters, is it?
No, Mercy’s Daughters.’
    ‘Never heard of them.’
Nero said. ‘So what about it?’
    ‘I will be leaving Tark
at some point,’ Salma said, ‘whether your monarch approves or not. Because
she’s out there somewhere and I have to find her.’
    Nero’s glance met that
of Parops. ‘Must be wonderful, to be young,’ the Fly grumbled. ‘I almost
remember it, a decade of making a fool of myself and getting slapped by women.
Marvellous, it was. Your mind seems set, boy.’
    ‘I mean what I say.’
    ‘Then at least choose
your moment,’ Parops said. ‘Work with the city and let us get to trust you.
Because there will be a sortie sooner or later. We’re not just going to sit
here and watch them ruin our walls, you realize.’
    ‘Forgive me, but so far
your city doesn’t seem interested in working with any of us,’ Totho pointed
out.
    ‘That was then,’ Parops
told him, taking the jug from Skrill and taking a swig from it. ‘Now you are,
nominally, on our side, and people want you to talk to them.’
    Salma’s grin broadened.
‘Now that’s unfair. There was a delightful Ant-kinden lady earlier who wanted
nothing more than for me to talk to her.’
    And at that there was a
rap on the door and, when Nero opened it, she was standing right there, the Ant
interrogator, staring straight at Salma.
    Alder made a point of
not wearing armour. Not only should there be some privileges for a general, but
he hated being fussed over by slaves and servants, for with one arm he was
unable to secure the