He saw plenty of faces he knew, although rather few had any reason to like him. There was such a host of them, four hundred and forty-nine men and women. Of these, more were men than women, and more were his senior than his junior. The entire staff governing the Great College was here, and the prosperous mass of the elected Magnates of the town, the merchants, landowners, factory-owners and the independently wealthy whom the public regarded as the most trustworthy of those who sought office. Thanks to his recent activities, every one of them knew who Stenwold was, and what his grievance. They were not all Beetles, either, for the College staff was varied. There was a scattering of Ant-kinden of differing hues, and amongst them Stenwold caught the eye of Kymon of Kes, the Master of Ceremonies at the Prowess Forum, whom surely he could at least count as an ally. All of the other kinden of the Lowlands were represented too, even a single Moth named Doctor Nicrephos, who was probably older than Thadspar himself.

But Stenwold’s eye was inevitably drawn to a pair present who were not Assemblers at all. One was a Beetle-kinden, but his Collegium-style robes were edged in the Empire’s black and gold. The other man was a Wasp-kinden, plain and simple, no doubt a bodyguard or minder.

Thadspar cleared his throat and with a rattling of its mechanism the Assembly’s brass automaton ground across the floor towards him, whereupon he plucked two glasses of wine from its tray.

‘Master Maker, I don’t mind telling you that you have been making altogether a great deal of noise,’ the old man said. ‘You have been somewhat underhand in procuring this Assembly, and there are those amongst our number who felt that you should indeed be punished rather than rewarded with the, doubtless, great gift of our attention.’ He handed a glass to Stenwold. ‘However, wiser heads have prevailed, to the extent that we will at least hear the full details of whatever it is that you wish to tell us, before we begin deliberating.’

And the attack on Tark would have nothing to do with this change of heart, of course, Stenwold reflected. He accepted the glass and took Thadspar’s place at the podium when it was now offered him.

‘The Assembly of Collegium,’ Thadspar started, his usual dogmatic lecturing style slowly reasserting itself over his brief humour, ‘is known, I hope, for its carefulness in making decisions, by its refusal to be coerced, threatened or tricked into unwise measures. You shall now have your say, Master Maker, and I for one am most interested to hear your words. However, once you have spoken, it is only just that those accused should also speak.’ He gestured to the Beetle in Wasp-liveried robes. ‘This gentleman, you may recall, is an ambassador from the Wasp Empire who came to our city during the Games. Master Bellowern, I suspect Master Maker’s accusations will not be entirely new to you.’

‘Some rumours, Master Thadspar, are impossible to avoid, no matter how much one would prefer to,’ replied Bellowern, granting a smile for the benefit of the Assembly.

‘Master Bellowern will therefore make his defence when you have spoken. You must agree that this is only fair, Master Maker.’

Stenwold nodded tiredly and gazed out across the great mass of faces. Bellowern apart, he knew that there was no great love for him in this audience. He was, in their eyes, merely a troublemaker, and he knew exactly how set in their ways these old men and women could be. Even if he showed them that the Empire was worth making trouble over he would still be little more than an annoyance. And, of course, some of the more venal would have been bribed by the Empire, while others would sympathize with the imperial philosophy of strength and conquest and the Wasps’ success in keeping public order. Others still would enjoy lucrative business across the imperial borders with the Consortium, the Empire’s merchant cartel. And of course most of them would simply not care.

He gathered his strength together because, of all peoples, his kinden understood how to endure. Physical or mental burdens they could bear, and they had been slaves a thousand years before the revolution had set them free and given them mastery of their own fate. We are Beetle-kinden, who are tough and hardy, and go anywhere and live amongst all peoples and, wherever we pass, we make and build and better the world.

If his audience was hostile, greedy and uncaring, then he had his words ready and he would speak his heart and reveal the findings of his twenty years of intelligencing and campaigning. He would give them everything he knew, not twisted as propaganda but honest and true, and he would then hope for their illumination. There seemed precious little to put his faith in amongst those frowning faces, but the potential of the Assembly of Collegium was vast.

And so he spoke. He told them everything.

It was a wretched place down by the river that Hofi had chosen to meet at, and Arianna liked it not at all. Swathed in a cloak, her hand beneath it wrapped about her dagger hilt, she was aware that she drew curious looks from those others on the street that evening. It was not simply spies that concerned her, for the thought of robbers and other such lowlifes was much on her mind. Collegium was well policed, but where the river ran, before it met the sea, was a much decayed part of the city. Collegium’s goods came in by sea, now, and more by rail, and the warehouses, homes and factories that had been fed by the river trade a generation back had fallen into poverty and disrepair. A quite different neighbourhood had since risen up.

It was a Fly-kinden dive she sought, naturally enough. Arianna looked for the promised name but the legend ‘Egel River Rest’ appeared nowhere on the peeling facade. Still, she had a good head for directions, so this must be the place.

They were mostly Flies inside, little knots of them playing dice or talking in low voices. They all stopped and stared at her as she came in. She ignored them disdainfully, ducking into the low-ceilinged room and making her stooped way over to an old man who seemed to be the proprietor.

He looked her up and down. ‘Reckon I’ve been told t’expect you,’ he said, tweaking his moustache. ‘You’ll be wanting the back room. No trouble, mind. That’s what I tell them and that’s what I tell you.’

She followed the line of his thumb and hunched even lower through a further door. The room beyond was small, but the door on the far side was of a size to let a normal person out in a hurry, or several Fly-kinden at once. Hofi was kneeling on the floor, across from a low table, but Arianna froze when she saw Scadran was there as well.

‘Him?’ she asked.

Hofi gave her a sly look. ‘To tell the truth, he and I weren’t so sure about you,’ he told her. ‘It’s an untrustworthy trade and you’re not exactly the cleanest of us.’

‘Me?’

‘Don’t play games, Arianna. You’re Spider-kinden and treachery’s in your bones, useful and double-edged as it is. Scadran and I are mere amateurs by comparison, I’m sure.’

‘Hofi, I came here because I thought – and correct me if I’m wrong – that we both struck similar chords at the briefing today. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll go straight back out,’ she suggested.

The Fly made a sour smile. ‘It is the curse of our profession, isn’t it, that we can’t quite trust turning our backs on one another. Come in and pull up a floorboard.’

She did so, Scadran watching her without much expression on his heavy face.

‘So, we don’t trust each other but who else can we turn to?’ she remarked. ‘And we’re not happy, not happy at all.’

‘Because the game’s changed,’ Hofi agreed. ‘I suppose we should have seen it coming, but we all of us have been thinking like Lowlanders, when we should have been thinking like Imperial Rekef. Now, are we all speaking the same dialect here?’