They sighed and fidgeted. The Speaker for the assembly, old Lineo Thadspar, made a ‘hurry-up’ gesture. He had allowed Stenwold this speech for old time’s sake, and looked as though he now regretted it.

‘Eight years ago I told you that the Empire was engaging in a new war, a war on a scale unprecedented; that the Empire was making war upon our northern neighbour, the great Commonweal of the Dragonflies. You heard from me how the armies of the Wasps had killed in their hundreds and their thousands, and no doubt you remember the answer that the Assembly thought fit to give me then.’

He gave them a chance, noticed defiance in some, disinterest in others. He remembered it keenly, that answer, though he barely recalled which of the fat, dismissive magnates had uttered it. In his mind the words echoed, still sharp enough to wound him.

‘Master Maker comes before us again to prate about the Wasps,’ they had said. ‘He tells us they are fighting again, but that is their business. When the Ants of Kes land a force ashore and march on the walls of Tark, Collegium does not raise a voice. Why should we? Some kinden are warlike and therefore fight each other.

‘Master Maker tells us that we should beware them because they are an empire, and no mere city-state, and so seeks to fright us with semantics. If the Mantids of Felyal decided to call themselves an empire, would we suddenly be tasked to descend upon them with sword and crossbow? I think not, for all the occasional provocation they give us.’

There had been a murmur of laughter at that. Stenwold remembered it keenly.

‘And Master Maker also tells us they are fighting the Commonweal,’ the magnate had continued, all those years ago. ‘And I say to that, so what and so let them! ’ (They had cheered, back then, at this.) ‘What do we know of the Empire, beyond Master Maker’s ravings? We know that they are Apt and industrious, like us.