Spoils of War (Tales of the Apt Book 1) by Adrian Tchaikovsky (best young adult book series .txt) 📕

strike, but then Terasta’s shoulders twitched, the smallest shrug. “But not until you are ready,” she added. “Until then, it would be an honour and a privilege to learn.”

Then there were voices calling amongst the rocks, the survivors of the Imperial soldiers spreading out to search for their elusive quarry. Ineskae consulted her sword and her badge, but they felt no need to go and shed more Wasp blood today. There was no hurry to go picking fights, now that she had so much else to do.

It turns out that the post-war Commonweal is a perfect setting for a Kurosawa/Eastwood sort of wandering samurai/western story, as well as my homage to David Gemmell (this story was originally published in the Gemmell tribute collection Legends). This story, like most of its neighbours, is about picking up the pieces – the end of the war is, to some, as destructive as the war itself. Ineskae herself is equal parts Tisamon and Granny Weatherwax. Like Evandter in ‘The Prince’ or Danaen in The Sea Watch, the Mantis-kinden archetype of the perfect warrior is more honoured in the breach than the observance.

Idle Hands

When Gaved bundled the fugitive Sien Se into the quartermaster’s office there were some subtle changes that struck him very quickly. Mostly it was that the corpulent bulk of Captain Messer had been removed, possibly with a winch, and the gaudy opulence of his office reduced to a spartan simplicity. Where the great man had lounged in his bee-fur robe, fingers glittering with resized rings, where his desk had been strewn with jewellery and miniatures, Commonweal regalia and stacks of coin, now there was a bare space of wood burdened only with neat stacks of paper, and a Fly.

True, there were a pair of soldiers there, and they, too, looked rather neater and more orderly than Messer’s venal staff had been, but the Fly was plainly in charge, and that was something of note anywhere the Wasp Empire stamped its authority. He was a tidy little piece of work, pale and dark-haired with a high forehead, and he wore a rank badge but no uniform, instead favouring clothes of plain black. The rank badge said ‘captain’. Gaved had never met a Fly-kinden captain before.

“So, ah...” He ended up exchanging a look with Sien Se, a lanky Grasshopper merchant who had been foolish enough to try and stint the Empire’s taxes. The Empire’s war to claim this slice of the Commonweal had not been overly long, but many of the locals had already become adept at properly civilized crimes like embezzlement, tax evasion and short-changing soldiers. “So, ah...”

“My staff tell me you had some business with the quartermaster,” the Fly noted.

“Only, maybe it could wait until Messer’s back...?” Gaved said uncertainly.

“I really don’t think anyone would be willing to wait that long. Or able,” the Fly told him with a tight little smile. “Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Captain Javvi of the Rekef Inlander.”

“Ock,” said Gaved, or something like that. He had certainly never met a Fly-kinden from that branch of the secret service, nor had he met anyone from the Inlander who announced the fact quite so brazenly. Not until after an arrest, certainly.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Javvi went on, “It is a constant annoyance that people forget that one duty of the Inlander is simply keeping the peace in Imperial holdings. Not the most celebrated duty, but that serves as a rather sad indictment of the times we live in, I fear. You are...” he pointedly consulted the papers before him, “ex-Sergeant Gaved, I believe. You have recently made a very lucrative living for yourself tracking down fugitives of financial substance for Captain Messer.”

Gaved guessed that ‘lucrative’ must have a different meaning for some people, but he reckoned it wasn’t a toss he was advised to argue. He assayed a very small nod.

“Captain Messer made a rather better living accepting what he laughably termed ‘fines’ in return for letting those fugitives go about their business,” Javvi observed primly, “but then you knew that.”

Gaved’s eyes roamed the room as though seeking an escape. This time he shook his head. It didn’t seem to help.

“These lands that we have so recently conquered,” Javvi confided in him, “are somewhat lawless. You may have noticed. The Emperor, in his wisdom, has dispatched a number of Investigative Officers of the Inlander to restore the rule of law. We have been granted very wide powers, given that we are faced with territories rife with former Commonweal soldiers, bandits, profiteers, common criminals and deserters,” and he put an unpleasant emphasis on that last word.

“I’m not a deserter,” Gaved said quickly.

“You’re a Wasp of eligible age and gender, and you’re not in uniform and under orders. This rather begs the question.”

“It’s a long story-” Gaved started.

“I wouldn’t dream of denying you the chance to tell it. However, as you can imagine I am rather busy assimilating Captain Messer’s somewhat duplicitous records, and so I suggest you use your time in the cells to get your long story in some sort of comprehensible order.”

“Hey, no, wait –!” Gaved started, but the Grasshopper merchant chose that moment to speak.

“What about me? I have a business to get to. I see Messer’s gone, so fine. I can deal with you.” He apparently had no idea who the Rekef Inlander were.

Javvi smiled, the sort of brittle expression constantly on the point of shattering into points and sharp edges. “You are guilty of withholding funds from the Emperor. However, the law-abiding shall rejoice, for the rule of law is here, and I can deal with you.” He nodded to his soldiers, and one of them stepped forward with a hand out.

Gaved was sharp enough to abruptly not be standing next to Sien Se. In the next second there was a crackling snap as the soldier’s sting discharged, flinging the tall Grasshopper into the wall with his chest burnt out.

“You didn’t have to do