“Your brogue is beginning to show again.”

“T’aint nothin’ of tha’ sort.”

Isaac took a second, realised what he’d just said, and frowned.

“Told you so,” Cavalant said. “You’re too tense. Try to relax a little bit.”

And how exactly was he supposed to do that? The atmosphere in this chamber was so thick he could cut it with his moustache. No blade required, only a bit of wax. He was so on edge he’d mounted up and ordered the rest of his squad to do the same. Now they scuttled around the outer edge of the space, watching, waiting. At any moment, one of the hundreds of powerfully built golgari could whip out one of the oversized weapons they held and start cutting into them. So far, nothing had happened.

So far.

“I don’t like this place,” he said to his partner, Cavalant, “we’re too exposed. It’ll be too difficult to use our mobility to our advantage.”

“So you’ve said,” she drawled, “several times. And I told you that it’s going to be fine. The Eldest is with us.”

Isaac restrained himself from pointing out that the Eldest was not in fact ‘with them’. Anthony was stuck on a boat outside the fortress! If the golgari started swinging in here, what exactly was he going to do from out there?

Questioning the supposedly all-powerful capacities of the oldest and biggest ant was simply not done, however, so he wisely chose to keep his mouth shut on the subject. Better to keep his eyes peeled and spear held ready.

The trade mission occupied the centre of what appeared to be a wide, circular welcoming chamber. There were only two openings in the walls: the way they had come in and the entrance opposite, through which the silver soldier had made his exit. The space itself wasn’t cylindrical either. The gap between the roof and floor was wider in the middle and narrowed at the outside edge, like two plates, one flipped over and laid on top of the other.

Around that narrow outside stood the warriors the golgari had so ‘generously’ left to watch over them, while in the middle, the brathians and smaller ants laboured to unpack their various goods. The stalls were going up at a rapid pace, a small market taking shape under the watchful eye of Eran Thouris, but every minute in this pressure cooker felt like an hour to Isaac.

He’d never expected to have empathy for the tough beef his mother had stuffed into the pot when making stew, but he was beginning to understand just how it felt to be exposed to such unrelenting heat.

The ants seemed fine, but their riders were a different story. Isaac could see it in their eyes, the same anxiety that he felt thrumming inside his own chest.

“Take it easy, Lewis,” he said as Cavalant sidled up next to the young man’s own mount. “Another hour and we’ll be out of here. Business as usual.”

The two ants did that weird antennae slapping greeting that inevitably seemed to happen whenever they got close to each other. It was hardly necessary for the ants of the Colony to do it, they could smell each other just fine without getting that close, and could ‘talk’ from a good distance apart, much like a person shouting, but nevertheless, some parts of their base instincts remained. Or perhaps they just liked it?

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Do you really believe that, Captain?” Lewis asked him, drawing in a shaky breath. “They keep watching us. Have you noticed? They barely seem to blink.”

He was referring to the golgari warriors, of course. It was true, they were disciplined, unmoving and unflinching in their observation of the ants and their escorts. Despite how they appeared, Isaac was certain they were military trained, as this level of control didn’t belong to mere guards. These were soldiers. There was no doubt about it.

“Lewis, you’re just getting inside your own head. What did your partner say?”

“Pharlant? She said I was worrying too much.”

“She’s right.”

“She said the Eldest would take care of us if something happened.”

“... Yeah. See? Have a little confidence. Besides, Pharlant is a hell of a lot smarter than you are. Have a little faith.”

The young cavalry man rolled his eyes and managed a wan smile. Isaac chuckled and stroked his moustache with a flourish.

“There you go, lad. It’s not that bad. Go tell the others I want them riding in groups of four, no more of this aimless drifting one by one. Half the groups can move in rotation around the room, the other half can take up positions around the market. Got me? Let’s bring a little order here.”

Hopefully his people would hold their nerve a little better if they grouped up. Right now, they were too isolated, riding about without any direction. Normally, the ants were the ones to help steady the riders’ nerves, but this was one of those moments when they weren’t necessarily on the same page. Not all of the riders had quite the same level of faith in Anthony as their partners.

Some did, though, and Isaac wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

After Lewis passed on his instructions to the others, things began to look a little more organised, the cavalry straightening in their saddles, not wanting to look weak in front of the others.

Still too green, Isaac thought. The cavalry had seen a little battle, but not enough to inject the required iron into the backbone. Probably because they were still too rare. With so few riders, the Colony wasn’t willing to risk them more than strictly necessary, but they would have to eventually.

“Nice work, Captain,” a pheromonal ‘voice’ reached Isaac, bumping him out of his musings.

He turned to see the general coming towards him.

“Sloan, ma’am. Thank you. Things are just a little tense in here is all, some of my people were getting jittery.”

“It’s to be expected,” the general said, eyeing off the motionless ranks of warriors surrounding them. “The golgari are planning something. What, I’m not sure, but something bad, I have no doubt.”

Isaac felt a chill run down his spine.

“Should we move to evacuate, then?” he said softly. “If there is danger here…”

Sloan waggled her antennae backwards and forwards, indicating her thoughts on the matter.

“We are led by our allies in this matter, Isaac Bird. The Eran wishes to stay and fulfil her obligations to her Conglomerate, and so we are bound to remain also.”

“That seems… dangerous?” he suggested.

Also unusual. To think the Colony would be so willing to put themselves at risk to uphold the honour of their allies.

“It is, but not to us,” Sloan replied.

“I’m not sure what you mean?” Isaac said slowly.

Sloan clacked her mandibles thoughtfully.

“The Eran, her daughter, and her brother in law are all here, with us. Members of the Satrap’s own family. Would the golgari really want to risk something happening to them? I think not.”

The ships.

“What’s going to happen out there?” Isaac breathed.

“I have no idea,” Sloan replied, “I can only trust that the Eldest will take care of it.”

Isaac had his doubts. Then again, he’d frequently had doubts about the Eldest. Somehow, he’d always been wrong. He could only hope that whatever happened, the Legion fleet, Morrelia, wouldn’t be pulled into it.