‘Anyway,’ Taki told them. ‘You two go ahead and take a walk about the Venodor, because I need to check on my Esca. Make sure you come back here, to Ahabi’s Three Pillars. If you get lost, everyone knows where this place is. Keep your purses tight and don’t get into fights. I’ll be back here before the next bell tolls.’

‘Taki,’ Che let the question out at last, ‘why are you so interested? Why are you helping us like this?’

‘I’m just a naturally friendly person,’ Taki replied cheerfully, but Che shook her head and the Fly girl grimaced. ‘It’s because of the Wasps. You obviously know a lot about the Wasps, and I want to know more because, some friends of mine and I, we’re getting just a little worried. Enough said for now?’

‘Quite enough,’ Che agreed, and the little Fly slipped away into the side-streets.

‘So, what do we know?’ Nero asked, after she had gone. ‘The Wasps are here and not everyone likes them,’ Che suggested.

‘And not everyone doesn’t like them,’ Nero finished for her. ‘That girl isn’t too sure about her own mistress – her Domina. Notice how she got us out of there before the Spider could start asking us questions. Believe me, it’s very hard not to come clean with them, when they’re putting their Art on you.’

‘So what do you think the Wasps’ agenda is?’ Che asked. ‘I don’t see any…’ She looked about her, and then looked again. ‘Actually there are a couple over there, just standing there, keeping an eye on things. It’s almost as though they’re a kind of…’ She looked at Nero worriedly.

‘Militia?’ he mused. ‘So maybe one of the parties has started hiring them. Maybe imperial soldiers are moving into this city as mercenaries. Good ploy, that – I wonder how many they’ve got in Solarno so far. But it would take a lot of soldiers to put the clamps on a place as mad as this one. Our next move then – what do you think?’

‘Gather more information.’

‘Right,’ Nero confirmed. ‘And I hate to say it, but I’m better placed than you, for that game. I thought you’d be a good bet, but I’ve not seen another Beetle-kinden on the streets save for the pale-skin local kind, and you’re not going to pass for one of them.’

It was true, Che reflected gloomily. Not only were the Solarnese women all sand-coloured, with dark or red-dyed hair worn twisted up at the back of the neck, but they were also mostly taller than she was, and leaner. ‘So you’re off to trawl the gutters, are you?’ she asked.

‘While you get to be polite with all the lords and ladies. Make sure you stay close to that Taki girl. She’s obviously flying in from the same quarter as we are where the Stripeys are concerned, even though she’s got a bit of a mouth on her. Are you even listening?’

Che had been staring past him, but now she nodded hurriedly. ‘Stay with Taki, yes. Sorry, it’s just… I had strange dreams last night.’

‘Bad ones?’

‘Anything but,’ she replied, and then found herself smiling.

The shouting from the street-corner mob had increased over the last minute or so, though they had been paying it little heed. Now, Che leapt to her feet even before she had quite realized what she had heard: the unmistakable sound of metal striking metal. Without intending it, her own sword was clear of its scabbard.

The arguing nearby had turned into a brawl, though nothing like the formal deadliness of the duel witnessed the previous day. Even as Che and Nero had been talking, another group had appeared from nowhere, most of them wearing the little red hat of yesterday’s successful duellist. Their jibes and accusations had suddenly sparked fire: there was one drawn blade and then they were all at it. Knives and daggers and the local curved swords appeared in every hand, and from then on an undisciplined and bloody skirmish was inevitable.

Che saw immediately that most of them, even those that had brought swords, were not fighters by habit, perhaps even less so than she herself was. Tradesmen and servants, she guessed, with maybe a few who had shed a little blood before. They were now packed close, jostling and shouting, and trading overextended blows wherever they could, so that the daggermen had the best of it, and the whole sorry mess was coming right in their direction.

Many of the other locals were trying to get out of the way, so that the narrow streets running down to the waterfront were abruptly packed with fleeing people crammed shoulder to shoulder. Others, however, were joining in with abandon and, only adding to the confusion, many of them wearing no hats at all. Across the street a band of the local militia had already arrived, but seemed content to stand back and watch rather than wade into the maelstrom.

‘Che,’ said Nero from somewhere above her. He had flicked aloft with his wings and was now perched precariously atop the awning, a foot resting on one of the poles. ‘Che, get out of the way.’

She looked around, and saw nowhere to go. She was too heavy, too clumsy, to follow Nero. She had insufficient stamina to fly more than a short hop, and that could just land her right in the middle of them. Instead she backed away towards the door of the taverna. Then the fighting mob had swept into the little courtyard, constantly eddying and turning, but never quite getting to the taverna’s doorway, leaving a blade’s length of clear ground in front of her as Che put her back against the stone wall. Beside her, in the doorway, a man who must be the proprietor had emerged with an axe-headed pike levelled, and was glowering ferociously at the knot of fighting men and women.

There were at least four bodies now lying further down the street, which the militia were picking over unhurriedly. Che looked around for the Wasp soldiers but they were nowhere to be seen. She tried to make sense of the scrimmaging throng, amazed that more people were not already bleeding to death on the muddy cobbles of the Venodor. A lot of the ‘chaotics’ wore leather cuirasses, and their style seemed to be for slashing strokes that left long, shallow cuts, rather than fatal stabbing. It was a style designed to prevail without demanding a death, and plenty of the combatants had already retreated to lick their wounds. It seemed pure madness to Che, but both sides seemed to have the same general purpose.

She never saw the assailant coming but instead she suddenly heard the sound of ripping fabric close at hand, and then swift motion beside her as Nero dropped through the awning and was abruptly perched on a man’s shoulders. The man, who had been within arm’s reach of Che a moment ago, was now staggering back as Nero clawed for his eyes with one hand, drawing his dagger with the other. The Solarnese tried jabbing his own long knife up at Nero, but the Fly kept shifting position, wings buzzing in and out of sight, and then Che herself lunged forwards and ran her potential assassin through the gut.

He convulsed and fell forwards, leaving Nero abruptly hovering unsupported as the man jack-knifed to the ground, taking Che’s sword with him. She felt a jolt of horror – how much blood had she seen shed, how little of it her doing – and then Nero cursed and spun out of the air, a spatter of red suddenly staining the white of his clothes. He had twisted aside, by sheer Art and instinct, as the blade came in, so it had gashed across his arm rather than into his ribs. As her companion hit the ground, Che found herself facing a lean Dragonfly-kinden, deeply scarred on both cheeks. In his hands he wielded a long-hafted sword, as much hilt as blade. In her hands was nothing.

He took a moment to note her vulnerability, his expression set, and then he lunged for her. None of the local posturing for him, he was in for a quick kill. She retreated hurriedly, her calves striking the low wall of the courtyard, and then her world went toppling backwards. He turned his lunge into a charge, wings flaring for speed, and she saw that slender, lethal blade plunge straight towards her – and then jerk to one side.