Markan Sword

  "One Prefect may be the same as another," said Silbur, quietly. "Especially to those with neither wealth nor property."

  "Prefects should rule for the good of their people," said Reshiad. "He cannot notice if a man is a wealthy merchant or a landhusband; he must be blind to the color and shade of a man's skin; treat with men and women alike; listen to all sides of an argument before reaching a decision. He must be fair and constant, so even when a decision goes against a man, that man understands why, even if he does not agree. But there is something more."

  Seven pairs of human eyes regarded Reshiad without blinking. Neptarik and Mya stared open-mouthed, earpoints bolt upright.

  "More important than all of that, a Prefect must be about justice." Reshiad waggled a finger. "Justice is not served, cannot be served, while men turn a blind eye to the murder of children. And any ruler who commands such murders cannot remain a ruler for long. Such men are unfit to rule!"

  The five men nodded. Reshiad blinked as Ozbon's green gaze augured into him. The moment dragged, but Reshiad refused to look away. The other man's face was still and expressionless, except for one small muscle that twitched in his cheek. Slowly, carefully, Ozbon rose and extended a hand.

  "Deshad," he said, emotion thickening his voice, "I am your man, to the death."

  Silbur extended a hand. "Deshad; I am your man, to the death."

  Helden extended a hand. "To Turivkan and after."

  Vawn grinned as he extended his hand. "I follow where you lead."

  Kedric, the oldest, finally took his turn. "It'd better not come to dying," he said, flashing strong white teeth as he smiled. "And you'd better come good on those promises."

  "I meant every word," said Reshiad, honestly.

  The men took their time leaving, but they were soon escorted away from Glayen's house, returning to whichever inns they had chosen for their stay. Mya and Neptarik collected the used alovak mugs, putting everything together on one tray that Mya took with her as she left the room. Neptarik began covering the light crystals, taking his time and obviously eavesdropping.

  Serifa smiled at Reshiad. "Impressive," she said. "Winning over Ozbon took some doing. How did you know both his sons died thanks to this census? They were killed in front of him."

  "I assumed he lost someone." Reshiad grimaced.

  "And you were wise to adopt a false name," continued the girl.

  "Ah well, you can tha –" Reshiad fell silent as he saw Neptarik give a warning shake of the head. "Sometimes you must listen to good advice," he said.

  "I think that went well," remarked Verdin, near the door.

  Reshiad nodded before he turned back to Serifa. "Sorry if it looks like I've pushed you aside," he said.

  Serifa smiled. "You haven't. As you'll be finding out soon enough. Verdin, can you show me where you've hidden the maps of Turivkan? I'd like to take a look before bed." Her voice faded as she and Verdin left the room.

  Only two light crystals were left uncovered.

  Reshiad shook his head. "They went for it," he said, as if unable to believe it.

  Neptarik smiled. "You did better than I expected," he said. The sylph inclined his head in respect. "Excellency."

  "Whoa." Reshiad made a shushing motion with his hands. "That's for the likes of Serifa, not me."

  The sylph blinked. "I am about to cover these crystals. His Excellency had better get to bed."

  ***

  Reshiad rode his white mare out from Shelcar. Serifa rode alongside him, on her dappled gray mare, while a grouchy Tektu walked between them, carrying Serifa's parasol and scowling at anybody who looked her way. Watchful, taciturn Erard rode behind them.

  They left the city in small groups, trying to avoid attention. Mya and Neptarik had left with Balnus, while Verdin left with Ozbon, using the only cart to carry all their belongings. The other field commanders left separately with their sylphs.

  "Are all these precautions strictly necessary?" asked Reshiad.

  Serifa gave him a surprised look. "Of course. Do you see any pigeons in the sky?"

  "You probably wouldn't notice them from here," said Reshiad, who didn't even glance up.

  "They could be headed anywhere," continued Serifa. "Sent by anyone. Every city is full of spies, all taking money from somebody. We don't want Dervra to learn we're assembling an army until it's too late."

  "He might already know," replied Reshiad. "We could be riding into a trap."

  "Indeed." Serifa's smile lit her hazel eyes. "But isn't life fun when surrounded by so much danger?"

  Reshiad said nothing, but reflected that a quiet life surrounded by nothing more vicious than sheep sounded more like fun to him.

  "We have left the city now," interrupted Tektu, thrusting the parasol at Serifa. "You can carry this yourself."

  The girl laughed, leaned down and ruffled Tektu's silver hair. "Stop being so grumpy."

  Tektu scowled and jerked her head away.

  "You'll be back with your beloved Neptarik before long, I promise," said Serifa. She tried and failed to catch an earpoint, in the hope of soothing the angry infertile.

  "He's not my beloved," snapped Tektu and fell back to walk alongside Erard, where the bodyguard ignored her completely.

  Reshiad screwed himself around to look at the infertile in surprise. Sulks from Tektu? The more he learned about this strange sylph, the more she confused him.

  "How long have you known Tektu?" he asked.

  "A couple of weeks. They are all from Marka."

  "To help us or rule us?"

  "Some of both," replied Serifa. "As you've already noted. So long as everything is for mutual advantage, the reemergence of the Markan Empire is beneficial."

  "Even though it is ruled by a sylph?"

  "For now." Serifa smiled. "I wonder if the Emperor is a sylph like Neptarik? Now there is an interesting specimen."

  Reshiad doubted if Neptarik would appreciate being referred to as an interesting specimen, but decided to ignore the comment. "He's certainly different," he replied.

  "Balnus tells me that the army seeks sylphs displaying a greater level of independence than is normal," said Serifa. "It is something for us to consider, I suggest."

  "Do you think the Markans will help us with that?" Reshiad raised an eyebrow. "And I wonder what value sylphs are to an army. Armies are about fighting and sylphs are not fighters."

  "We want to go this way," murmured Serifa, when they reached a vague fork in the road. "Our lot are hidden in the forest."

  "Where are we headed to next? Nobody has thought to tell me yet."

  Serifa smiled. "Turivkan," she said. "The longer we wait, the greater the chance of discovery."

  Reshiad fought down a sudden feeling of panic. "So soon?" he asked.

  "Best to get the job done quickly," she replied.

  "Hope those feet aren't made from clay after all," interrupted Erard, breaking his silence. "Because that will get men killed."

  Reshiad turned in his saddle. "There's nothing wrong with my feet."

  Erard's brown eyes glittered. "Good."

  ***

  Four of the field commanders had split away. Serifa explained that they had returned to their own groups, as the rebels dared not congregate in one place. The risk of detection was too great.

  Ozbon's group of three hundred had made the nearby forest their home. As Reshiad saw no sign of them, he assumed they concealed themselves as well as Neptarik. The few people he spotted foraging all wore green or brown wool he expected to see on the poorest peasant.

  "Look up," whispered Serifa, leaning closer.

  Reshiad looked up and saw an archer sat comfortably on a lower bough of the nearest tree. Had there been more foliage, he would have seen nothing. And had the archer decided to shoot, Reshiad could not have possibly seen him until too late.

  "Caution and a long life go together," he muttered.

  Serifa smiled.

  Reshiad looked carefully around and patted Ercyan's long neck.
Nothing obvious stood out to show a camp. Large piles of wood were dotted about, all roofed to allow the gathered wood to season. He also realized it would burn with little or no smoke.

  Two huts huddled together to give the impression of normalcy and two woodcutters worked nearby.

  "Where is everybody?" asked Reshiad.

  Erard chuckled and Tektu looked as if she thought Reshiad had taken leave of his senses.

  "Look closer," suggested Serifa.

  Reshiad did. A forest, with maybe a half dozen people in sight. Trees marching steadily uphill, screens woven from pliant branches and leaves to one side, probably to provide washing or privy shelter.

  He had seen something like the screens before. "They live underground?"

  Serifa giggled. "Welcome to Shelcar Mine," she said. "Headquarters of your rebellion."

  Tektu led them towards one of the largest screens.

  Reshiad expected a larger version of the byawta he had slept in, but he was wrong.

  Tektu pulled the screening aside and even the horses passed easily through it. Only Ercyan showed any reluctance to move forward, but the white mare eventually followed the other horses' example.

  As he passed into the cave beyond, Reshiad realized no dark hole lay ahead. The cave opened up and the floor ramped down. Regularly spaced light crystals showed the way.

  "Wow!" breathed Reshiad, dismounting as boys came forward to take the horses. "What... a... place."

  "Surprised?" asked Serifa.

  Reshiad nodded.

  A good twenty horses munched contentedly, all secured to the same picket line. Reshiad recognized Verdin Vintner's horse Blade and wondered who had ridden it out here. After all, Verdin was with the only cart, which he also spotted tucked away at one side.

  "We keep the stables nearest the door," said Serifa, as if she owned the cave. "Easier for mucking out this way."

  Reshiad saw that roofed huts had been built in long terraces, serving as barracks, workshops and offices. Perhaps fifteen smiths worked beyond that, hammering spare horseshoes and weapons.

  "You going to gawp all day?" demanded Tektu. The sylph's eyes glowed faintly in the poor light. "This way, follow me."

  Sylphs outnumbered the people Reshiad could see. Mostly infertiles, the roughly dressed sylphs dashed about carrying papers and messages. More worked at chores, cleaning tack, polishing weapons, sweeping out the huts.

  The cave narrowed to a tunnel, which opened into another cave, its ceiling lost to darkness. Within, hundreds of men practiced with staffs, or swords, or pikes, dancing with their weapons in the harsh glare from light crystals.

  Cooks worked along one wall, smoke from their fires – if any smoke, given the stacks of dried wood outside – rose and probably escaped somewhere through the roof.

  "Follow," prompted Tektu, "else we will part company." Her tone hinted she didn't care either way.

  Reshiad followed his companions into another tunnel, and down a set of stone steps. Reshiad and Serifa clung gratefully to the rope that ran alongside the steps for extra support, while Tektu demonstrated her agility by running down them. The silent Erard took his time, but he also scorned the rope.

  Tektu waited patiently at the bottom. "This way," she urged.

  "How big is this place?" Reshiad wondered aloud.

  "Bigger than anyone knows," replied Serifa. "So don't be tempted to go exploring, or you might get lost forever. We've already lost a couple of over-inquisitive soldiers."

  Reshiad suspected Serifa sported with him.

  Tektu led them to another division and through a door.

  "Welcome!" Ozbon stood and extended a hand. "Welcome to the nearly forgotten Shelcar Mine."

  "What did they mine here?" asked Reshiad.

  "Iron ore," replied Ozbon. "Until about two hundred years ago. We've been working on the place for the past five years, making it homely."

  "And a suitable hiding place for rebels," added Verdin, standing from his chair. He smiled at the newcomers.

  "Very impressive," said Reshiad. "Five years ago? The census only began last year."

  "The resistance to Dervra's rule began when your, ah, father lost the throne," said Ozbon.

  Reshiad almost told the man that Adelbard had been no relation. "Still, it's a good place."

  Serifa shrugged. "It'll do." She turned back to Ozbon. "How soon?" she asked.

  "We can leave in the morning," replied Ozbon. "Say the word, and I'll send runners to the other camps."

  Serifa looked at Reshiad, and nodded.

  Ozbon watched expectantly.

  "All right," said Reshiad. "Let's get it over before too many more people lose their children."

  Ozbon's green eyes glittered in the light crystals' glare. "Suits me perfectly," he said.

  "And may Siranva aid us all," murmured Erard.

  ***

  "Have we got it right?" asked the infertile sylph.

  Mya watched as Neptarik peered into the small cans that she suspected should really be used for alovak. The cans held green, gray and brown paint.

  The scout nodded. "Looks fine to me," he replied.

  Under Mya's supervision, Neptarik stripped off his shirt and gray breeches, and stretched out on a convenient stone. Naked, he looked at the nearest infertile. "Paint up my legs to just below the crotch, and down my body an inca or two below my waist," he told her. "Green first, then I shall instruct you in the paint scheme."

  Mya kept a careful eye on the infertiles as they painted her beloved husband green. She much preferred him when his natural blue. All three worked quickly and Neptarik obediently turned over when requested.

  Once the green paint had dried, Neptarik stepped into the short breeches scouts wore to protect their modesty. These were already painted and the scout quickly secured the drawstring.

  "Now," said Neptarik. "Brown and gray."

  Bit by bit, Neptarik changed from normal sylph to army scout. Even his silver-gray hair turned green, gray and brown. Only his eyes still looked normal.

  Mya understood the necessity of camouflage, even for sylphs, but she wished her husband did not look so utterly alien whenever he wore his scout paint. His role did not bother her; humans fought and sylphs were supposed to help their humans. After all, her previous owner had been a spy.

  Humans got hurt, but that was the fault of other humans, not sylphs.

  Except for Tektu. Mya screwed her eyes shut and tried to banish the image of her dead owner as they carried him from the cells in Castle Beren. She wanted closure; she wanted nothing more than to be with Neptarik, but every time she saw that hateful, evil Tektu, she received a reminder of what had been.

  Delivered with the mental subtlety of a kick in the head.

  She had heard the explanation of how her husband had ended up with the vile monster. She wished to be rid of Tektu, but even a collapsing castle had failed to kill her. The creature was now bonded to Neptarik and though that bond could be broken by killing her husband, that meant she would end up with her previous owner's murderer.

  Neptarik stood and carefully inspected himself in the polished metal mirror one of the infertiles held up for his inspection.

  "Not bad." The scout nodded. "Not everything is in the right place, but not bad at all."

  The infertiles smiled and giggled, hanging around until Mya chased them out. She looked at Neptarik and thought of Tektu.

  There must be another way of getting rid of her.

  ***

  Preparations to leave went on through the night. Reshiad watched with Serifa. The fighting men and women had already said goodbye to their families, and most of them were ready to leave first. All wore a hungry look, doubtless a demand for vengeance, if not for justice.

  They were ready to fight.

  Verdin and the silent Erard watched with them. Balnus stayed with Ozbon, the field commander seemingly everywhere at once. Tektu stayed with him, for some reason wearing a petulant expression. But wasn't Balnus ultimately her owner? E
ven if she did claim to belong to Neptarik.

  Talking of whom...

  Reshiad glanced behind, where the scout had curled up on straw, earpoints tucked away. Mya lay beside him, but her twitching earpoints showed sleep refused to come, even if he had not seen her silver-gray eyes, wide and wondering.

  "It's like a madhouse," he remarked.

  Serifa nodded. "Organized chaos," she replied. "Everybody knows what they must do."

  Erard grunted.

  "Are the others coming too?" asked Reshiad.

  "Others?" asked Serifa.

  "The smiths, the sylphs, the fletchers, the laundresses..."

  "Some of them," replied Verdin. "But we intend to travel light and fast. We'll be sneaking into Turivkan. A quick coup, rather than bloody battles and sieges, else we'll alienate the very people we want to liberate."

  "The people you think are best ruled by someone else," remarked Reshiad.

  Verdin pursed his lips. "You prefer to leave Dervra in charge?"

  "Of course not."

  "Perhaps you'd rather see a significant proportion of the population dead?" pressed Verdin.

  "No!"

  Serifa spoke up. "Good. We long ago decided against sieges and battles; after all, Dervra is the one with a professional army. We'd also prefer to keep that intact as far as possible. Or do you want the neighbors to sense weakness and attack just when you're trying to find your feet?"

  Reshiad shook his head. "You have had an education," he muttered. "Who are you?"

  Serifa's hazel eyes glittered with amusement. "Keep guessing, my noble Deshad."

  Neptarik abruptly yawned and stretched, brushing his fingertips across Mya's. The sylph stood and stretched out each limb individually, shaking his hands and feet, working out any knots and ensuring all his muscles and tendons were in the right places.

  He rubbed sleep out of his eyes and smiled at Reshiad. "Dawn," he announced.

  How could the creature tell? Reshiad could not see outside, and the light crystals continued their unremitting glare. Night and day was all the same in here.

  Ozbon and Balnus, with Tektu in tow, joined them.

  Ozbon nodded to Serifa and Verdin, before turning to Reshiad.

  "We're ready to leave," he said.

  Reshiad did not wait for advice from Verdin or Serifa.

  "Good," he replied. "Then we'd best get gone."

  Ozbon nodded again and stumped away, shouting orders as he went.

  "We'd better mount up," suggested Serifa.