There was no sign, no indication of the building’s use, but they went along at dusk when the street was nearly deserted, a pair of Ant soldiers on patrol just turning off at the far end.

‘Is there going to be trouble here?’ Che asked him cautiously.

‘It’s possible,’ he admitted. ‘I have not been told so outright, but I believe that the Sarnesh are inclined to turn a blinder eye here than they do elsewhere in the city. I suspect their rulers benefit somehow – perhaps their own spies can deal here for information, or goods not sold openly. This place is a gambling house, also a brothel, where the rougher kind of foreigner comes to deal and talk. I’d guess every so often the Sarnesh raid it, and no doubt the owners arrange in advance who gets caught and who is given warning to flee. A dangerous line to walk.’

She nodded. ‘I hate to remind you, but we’re not exactly the rougher kind of foreigner.’

He gave her a smile that was almost rakish. ‘Try me,’ he suggested.

Inside the place was dark. There were two half-shuttered lanterns hanging low on the walls but, if she had not had the Art to see through the gloom, she would have tripped over every projecting foot and every chair. As it was, although Achaeos slipped between the tables deftly, she had to push her way through the narrow gaps. The occasional patron gave her a baleful look, but she realized that it was those who minded their own business and did not look up who were likely to be the more dangerous.

The clientele were a ragged pack. She saw plenty of Fly-kinden, who always seemed to throng these kinds of places. There were a couple of Spiders, too, and several Mantis-kinden who looked perennially ready for a fight. There was even a Mantis warrior in attendance on a sly-eyed Spider lady, a partnership which stretched Che’s imagination, and two robed Moth-kinden, who watched them pass with blank white eyes while sharing a sweet-smelling pipe between them.

There was no bar as such; instead a Beetle-kinden sat at a small table by the rear door and sent a young Fly girl back for beer when it was requested. Achaeos went up to him and exchanged a few words before palming a gold Central to him, whereupon the man nodded to one of the occupied tables.

It was a gaming table, five-handed, with cards being snatched, turned and discarded almost faster than Che could follow. There was something nearly Ant-kinden about it, for none of the players spoke, each just following the course of the game by mutual consensus. There was no room to stand back a step, so she ended up right at the shoulder of one of the gamblers. He was holding his cards at such an acute angle that she wondered how even he could read them.

One of the players was a Mantis, who also seemed to be the dealer. Her hard face, with its pointed chin and ears, should have been attractive, except it was frozen with the cold disdain of her race, which made her seem only hostile and bleak. As her hands made automatic motions with the cards she glanced up at Achaeos and nodded briefly.

‘Last hand, last hand,’ she said, ‘then break for drinks and begin again.’

They ante’d up, and Che noticed the stock lying in the middle of the table was partly coins and partly rings, brooches and other small items of jewellery that had probably recently changed ownership. There was a flurry of cards, back and forth with increasing urgency, and the hand fell to a copper-skinned little man seated to the Mantis’s left, someone resembling a Fly-kinden but not quite. When he had scooped up his winnings, three of the gamblers rose and took their leave, with curious glances at Che, leaving only the Mantis and the diminutive man with the winning streak.

‘Sit,’ the woman instructed. ‘Master Moth, you’ve been spotted, and you’ve been asking some questions. I’ll have your name.’

‘Achaeos, Seer of Tharn,’ he replied easily, taking the seat across from her.

‘Who’s your doxie,’ the small man asked. ‘Are you selling or renting her?’

‘My patroness,’ Achaeos said pointedly, ‘is Cheerwell Maker of the Great College.’

The little man snorted, but the Mantis nodded thoughtfully. ‘An interesting pairing, Master Achaeos. My own name is Scelae. This creature is Gaff. You understand that those whom we serve have greater emissaries than we. We are merely convenient to greet new arrivals.’

Achaeos nodded, as Gaff produced a pipe from within his leather jerkin and lit it – Che blinked in surprise – by a flicker of flame issuing from his thumb. Some Ancestor Art of his kinden, she realized, whichever kinden that was.

‘She’s your patroness, let her talk,’ said Scelae, leaning back in her chair.

Che looked to Achaeos for support but he remained without expression, waiting for her to speak. She swallowed uncomfortably. ‘You… You and your masters have heard of the Wasp-kinden, of course,’ she began.

Eyes hooded, Scelae nodded. The little man stopped puffing on his pipe for a moment and then started again.

‘Your business is information, I’m sure,’ Che continued, hearing her voice tremble with nerves, ‘so you’ve heard the news from Tark.’

‘And from further,’ Gaff agreed. He glanced from Scelae to Che. ‘If Tark’s your high card, lady, then I’ll raise you.’

‘Quiet,’ Scelae told him. ‘Assume we are aware of the Wasp-kinden, their armies and their Empire, and assume, as you say, that information is our business. What would you say to our masters?’

Che screwed up her courage, trying to present the words as Stenwold would have done. ‘That old divisions must be put aside,’ she said. ‘We need your help, and you need ours.’

‘Who is “we”?’

She was about to say her uncle’s name, which would surely mean less than nothing, and then Collegium, but what should that matter to the Moths of Dorax living so many miles away?

‘The Lowlands,’ Che said at last.

Scelae looked at Gaff, and the little man shrugged.

‘Nobody tells me anything,’ he said, ‘but I hear on the wind that the big men in Tharn have done a whole lot of considering of their position recently. But then I hear all sorts, and most of it’s rubbish,’ he added conversationally to Achaeos.

‘Where are you staying?’ Scelae asked Che.

‘I-’ Che stopped, torn. The Mantis smiled sharply.

‘You are asking us to trust you. In return, you will have to trust us. We reserve the right, Cheerwell Maker, to take what action we will. If that means that we are told to aid you, then you will receive our aid. If instead that means that a Beetle-child who should not even be aware of our name disappears from Sarn then that also shall happen, and in which case do you really think we could not find you?’

‘I’m at the sign of the Sworded Book,’ Che said. ‘But I tell you that not because of threats, but because you’re right: somebody has to make the first move, with trust. I trust Achaeos to have brought me to the…’ Just in time she swallowed the name ‘Arcanum’, ‘to the right people. And I trust the right people to consider seriously that the Lowlands is no longer in the same position as this time last year. And whether you’re in a College by the coast or in a city up a mountain, that’s just as true.’

The other gamblers were returning now, and Gaff began shuffling the cards.

‘We will speak with our masters,’ Scelae told her. ‘No more than that.’