Markan Sword

  "I shall continue to serve Turivkan, as I always have."

  Marlen eyed the General's obvious outlander appearance. "Because nobody else will pay you more."

  Teven let that pass. "I hope our enemy out there loses," he said. "But should they win, I hope they recognize who made life difficult for them and decide it is far better to have a man like me fighting alongside them than against them."

  "Or they might just pop your head on the end of one of their sticks." Marlen smiled. "Funny creatures, peasants. And I should know, I used to be one."

  Teven inclined his head to acknowledge the point. "That the Prefect has clearly made arrangements to leave, abandoning some of his followers in the process, tells me the man expects to lose."

  "Or is merely prudent," countered Marlen.

  "Dervra has the reputation of fighting to retain what he already has in his fist," said Teven. "So why regard Turivkan differently? What's his thinking? You must ask yourself this: exactly what is Dervra's overall plan and why are you surplus to his requirements, when before you were not?"

  Marlen shrugged. "The overall plan is to struggle against Marka and prevent it from reestablishing its empire."

  Teven sniffed. "Perhaps that is his plan."

  "You seem unconvinced."

  "Well spotted."

  "Whose side are you on, Teven?"

  The General laughed aloud. "I am on my side," he replied. "I recommend it as the best side to be on."

  "You want me on your side?" Marlen shook his head. "I cannot even begin to trust you."

  "You'd rather trust Dervra?"

  "You claim to serve him loyally."

  "I do. My job is to general Turivkan's army, to which I'm fully committed." Teven's slanted eyes were calm. "If you have any evidence to the contrary, I'd love to hear it."

  Marlen subsided. "I will think on what you have said."

  "Of course you will. I might be your best chance for survival, if Dervra is about to abandon us."

  ***

  The stout Captain Shais could never decide whether or not he liked General Teven. Despite his ambivalent feelings, he had to observe the proprieties when entertaining a guest, so sent his sylph to brew alovak.

  The Captain's office held three chairs, a desk and boasted a single painting above a rather imposing fireplace. This happened to be the room's best feature as, papers strewn across the desk apart, there was nothing else in here. Pale green walls and a white ceiling, a scratched and marked wooden floor that had not seen polish in years. A wooden stool in one corner, its seat polished from use.

  "Have you learned which three of your soldiers were responsible for that gambling sting?" he demanded, his green eyes hard.

  "I suspect there were no soldiers," replied Teven, calmly. "They were bribed to let the prisoner go. Who in their right mind would go into a cell and deliberately lose at cards?"

  "I admit it sounds unlikely," said Shais, "but the men's stories remain consistent even when put under considerable pressure and questioned separately."

  Teven shrugged. "It just means they rehearsed their story carefully beforehand. The three men they named all have witnesses supporting their version of events."

  Shais shook his head. "To think that men of the City Guard could be so corrupt."

  "Corruption can be found everywhere," said Teven. "Among the high as well as the low. Perhaps especially among the high."

  "What are you saying?"

  "We try hard to infiltrate the rebels' organization; they try hard to infiltrate ours. You must admit it is possible that we have rebels among our ranks."

  Shais pursed his lips and considered.

  Both men turned as the door opened and the infertile sylph padded back into the room, bearing a tray with the alovak can and two large mugs. She set the tray down on the desk.

  "Thank you, Mayhur. No, I will pour."

  The sylph crossed to the stool and began to lower herself onto it, moving with a stiffness that indicated a back injury.

  "You may leave us, Mayhur," continued Shais, pouring the alovak without looking at her. "Return in twenty minutes."

  The infertile gave her owner a look that suggested he might have spoken before she began to sit. Whatever Mayhur thought, she said nothing and closed the door quietly behind her as she obeyed her owner's command.

  Teven watched her go.

  "So you suspect Yaan's escape to be down to people on the inside of my City Guard?"

  Not your City Guard, fat fool; Turivkan's City Guard. Aloud, Teven said "A possibility to consider, I have heard nothing from my contacts. But it is highly probable that some men in the guard – in the army come to that – have relatives who have suffered as a result of this census."

  Shais pursed his lips and shook his head. "Shocking," he murmured.

  Teven accepted his alovak with a nod, but made no move to inhale its vapor or drink the dark liquid. "Hardly surprising," he continued. "I cannot completely rule out the involvement of all my men, only those your men accused of being there."

  "Annoying," said Shais, opening his eyes after his first sip. "We could have learned who the traitors are."

  "These things happen," replied Teven, touching the mug to his lips without drinking. "One of my contacts received a pigeon this morning. He believes that one of the late Prefect's sons passed through his place yesterday."

  "They are both dead," grunted Shais.

  "If the rebels believe one or both sons to be alive, then they may as well be," retorted Teven.

  "Well, we have you to repulse any assault against the city," said Shais. "After all, that is your responsibility."

  Teven smiled. "I have the impression you almost want me to fail," he said. "Perhaps share your embarrassment?"

  Shais's green eyes remained cold.

  "Well, my contact says that they are sending someone into the city to see how things are," said Teven. "I recommend your men at the gates be extra vigilant of those entering the city."

  Shais nodded. "Thank you for the information. Did your contact suggest who we need look for?"

  Teven shrugged. "Afraid not," he lied. "Human or sylph, male or female; he did not seem to know. He only said that the rebels intended sending just one. Perhaps your men ought to be vigilant about single travelers entering through the gates."

  "I'll pass it on," promised Shais.

  Teven smiled and nodded. "I also recommend your men keep a list of those who do enter the city and mark them off when they leave again."

  "We already do that," said Shais.

  "For humans yes, but what about sylphs?"

  Shais smiled. "Sylphs are just sylphs. They travel with their owners all the time."

  "What about sylphs traveling alone?" pressed Teven.

  Shais shrugged. "We get a few now and then. They usually come for easy begging or scavenging."

  "Might be an idea to take their names, or not let them in at all."

  "I'll tell the men to prevent sylphs entering the city, except in the company of their owner." Shais nodded. "But who would use sylphs in such a way?"

  "Markans," replied Teven, instantly.

  "Markans? Here?" Shais looked to be on the verge of laughter.

  "The shadow riders passed through last year, they are bound to have reached Marka by now. Our Prefect is allied with Eldova, Marka's sworn enemy. And if they learn of a potential rebellion here, they're bound to send someone to help stir up trouble. And we know Marka uses sylphs for a good few military tasks. Such as scouting and intelligence gathering."

  "Sylphs?" Shais stared.

  "Yes, sylphs." Teven smiled at the other man's obvious confusion. "Marcus Vintner apparently introduced them into his army some years ago. Their existence is common knowledge further east now."

  "How did you learn about them?"

  "I have contacts everywhere, as you know." Teven sipped at the alovak, quickly draining his mug. "But Dervra warned me to be especially vigilant for sylphs if the army ever meets the rebels. He is
also convinced that Markans – even if only a couple – are helping foment the rebellion. If that is the case, they will have sylphs to scout for them. I'm just passing the information on."

  "What if one of these sylphs comes here with his, her, whatever, owner?"

  "They will be unknown to your men. A little extra checking can't go amiss."

  Shais finally nodded and some of his false joviality returned. "Thank you for this Teven, I shall do as you suggest."

  Teven returned the man's false smile. "I'll see you at the next meeting. Thank Mayhur for her truly excellent alovak. I hope her back gets better soon."

  ***

  Captain Shais called in on the duty Officer-of-the-Guard without warning. The Lieutenant scrambled to his feet and hastily reached for his tunic, presently draped across the back of his wooden chair. In his haste, he upset the chair, which crashed to the ground.

  "Relax, Lieutenant Arrol." Shais flashed his usual jovial smile. "This is not an official visit, just something that's popped into my head."

  "What might that be, Sir?" Arrol succeeded to salvage chair and tunic. He hastily began to button it up. Why did superiors always walk in just as you'd stopped dashing about?

  "I've received word that the rebels might be using sylphs as messengers."

  "Sylphs come in and leave all the time, Sir. If you look now, you're bound to see a few waiting to enter."

  Shais nodded. "I'm not concerned about accompanied sylphs," he replied. "Only sylphs traveling alone."

  "Every now and again we see one or two."

  "I know, Lieutenant Arrol. Despite the rumors, I wasn't born wearing a Captain's uniform; I did start at the bottom, like everybody else."

  "Sorry, Sir."

  "I would like you to start checking unaccompanied sylphs more thoroughly. Pass it on to the other watches."

  "Yes, Sir." Arrol paused. "Exactly what are we looking for?"

  "Letters being carried, or perhaps verbal messages. Analyze whatever's found carefully and, if necessary, escort the sylph to his destination and out again. But it might be best if you turn them away."

  "And if we find anything suspicious, Sir?"

  "Detain the sylph and report to me."

  "And the level of force, Sir?"

  Shais looked surprised. "You are joking? We're talking about sylphs. Just hold them until we can conduct a more extensive interview."

  "Sir? What is the Prefect going to do about the rebels?"

  "Until they make some sort of obvious move, I don't see what we can do. We remain vigilant and look for anything out of place."

  "Very good, Sir."

  "One more thing, Lieutenant: always ensure you have someone to keep an eye out for senior officers approaching. That way, you should get no more surprises."

  Arrol noticed the twinkle in the other's green eyes and decided a smile would be safe. "Yes, Sir; thank you, Sir."

  Satisfied, Shais turned away.

  ***

  The messenger arrived late at Pallun's workshop. Pallun glanced both ways along the street and across at the abandoned temple, before pulling the man inside. He turned, locking the door and dropping his shutters.

  In the increased gloom, his stock cast longer and darker shadows. More inclined to make deals between different merchants, Pallun had an uncanny knack of getting required goods to people who really wanted them. Every now and then he got it wrong, hence the assorted bits and pieces here, which he sold as and when he could.

  The perfect cover story for the rebellion's logistician.

  Living with just his sylph – he had only taken one wife and she was estranged, taking their four daughters with her – helped keep Pallun out of sight. Nobody paid him much attention, though people sometimes gossiped about the possible reasons why his wife had run away. He had long since learned to ignore them all. Given what he was about, safer for her anyway.

  "We've got more pouring onto the plain all the time," said the messenger, as Pallun checked the door.

  He lifted a finger. "Just a minute, Eldinsen." He raised his voice. "Ilina!"

  A moment later, an infertile sylph, dressed in work tunic and breeches, with a plain linen shirt underneath, stuck her head around the door. Her earpoints twitched.

  "Enya?"

  "Keep an eye open at the back; I'll watch the front."

  The infertile bobbed her head and withdrew, presumably to follow her orders.

  Pallun turned back to Eldinsen. "Right, what have you got to tell me?"

  The messenger drew breath. If he had taken any offense because alovak had not been offered, nothing showed on his face.

  "Men and women are pouring onto the plain from all the cities. They're trying to exercise discretion, but it cannot be much longer before the authorities realize we have more people here than there ought to be."

  "Are they keeping to the abandoned towers and safe houses?"

  "Mostly, yes."

  Pallun grimaced. "Send messengers out of the city tomorrow to ensure that they do. If they cannot stay out of sight, they must withdraw to the mountains or beyond."

  Eldinsen nodded.

  "Remind them that Turivkan's army is disciplined, trained and effective."

  "There are rumors," continued Eldinsen. "They say Awen Haist marches with them."

  "I have heard nothing," replied Pallun, spreading his hands. "Of course, a messenger may be on his way to me right now with that news."

  "That would give us all hope." Eldinsen firmed his voice.

  Nothing more though, reflected Pallun, those boys are dead.

  "I recommend you do not spread this rumor until there is confirmation of it," he said, aloud. "If we have an uprising in the city too soon, there will be a slaughter. We are dealing with utterly ruthless people."

  Eldinsen's hazel eyes held a hint of guilt, suggesting he had already mentioned the false rumor to people.

  "When will you start giving the weapons out?" he asked.

  "When we are ready." Pallun's dark brown eyes flashed. "Not before. Remember, if the authorities hear of this, we are all doomed."

  Eldinsen finally nodded. Pallun let him out through the back, where the watchful Ilina gave him a neutral look. Once the messenger had left, Pallun watched the now-shut gate in the high fence. Finally, he turned to his sylph.

  "Alovak, please. Then join me in my study."

  Pallun had a small living accommodation above his workshop, comfortable and sufficient. He sat in the only easychair (Ilina usually made do with the floor; failing that a wooden seat and a cushion in one corner of his living room sufficed) and relaxed.

  How much of the information he had just received should he pass on to Teven? Perhaps he should wait until the rebellion's leader contacted him, before he passed anything on at all.

  He just wished he could find the slightest trace of trust for the General.

  ***

  Tektu cautiously approached Turivkan's pink sandstone walls. Now nearly dark, the gates had been shut hours before. The darkness did not bother her in the slightest; excellent night vision happened to be one advantage of being trapped in this weak sylph's body. Such a shame it always failed to properly digest her favorite food, causing no end of upsets.

  Despite everything, such as an unexpected change in owner the previous year, she found this present task surprisingly enjoyable. All ownership changes were unexpected, except those brought on by old age, but she had never before in her long, long life belonged to another sylph.

  It certainly added a certain depth of humiliation to her punishment.

  And yet.

  She dropped onto her heels beside some bushes and watched the walls. She had no intention of spending yet another night sleeping rough outside the city, so she must get in the city tonight and track down this Pallun. Perhaps spend the night in his stable.

  She watched the walls, waiting for any signs of activity. There were always night patrols in cities, if not necessarily along the walls. The moon rose slowly, initially orange
before settling to its normal silver-gray color, hanging in the sky like a huge sylph's eye.

  She saw nobody after two slow counts to a thousand, which meant patrols along the walls were either irregular, or only done at set times through the night. She began to walk around the outside of the city, making a careful inspection as she went.

  There were always weaknesses. Old doors, perhaps with larger gaps than there ought to be. Too small for an armored man to crawl through perhaps, but large enough to allow a child to pass. Or an infertile sylph.

  Tektu snarled at this reminder of her reduced status, but forced her temper back under control. It worried her how easily she could do that these days. Perhaps she had lost the ancient struggle against what this body expected.

  Not just old doors, but the height of the walls varied. Not all walls had been completed, often being lower on their so-called "safe" side. Some cities cared more about level walls, rather having them rising and falling with the lie of the land. This meant their walls were lower in relation to the ground in places. Marka was one such city.

  But not Turivkan.

  In fairness, Marka had been built on flat ground, while Turivkan sat on a raised exposure of sandstone, too low for an outcrop, but high enough to raise the city above the surrounding land.

  But Turvikan certainly had a weakness.

  Sandstone eroded quickly, which meant frequent repairs were needed to the aging walls. The builders who repaired them needed scaffolding and that must be affixed to the walls to prevent accidents.

  Tektu found no section of wall under repair; she knew any such area would be under guard and she never got that sort of luck, anyway. But a recently repaired section would not be so crumbly to climb, and the holes for the scaffolding – called putlogs – would be large enough for her to squeeze in a hand or foot. Such a way in might not be here either.

  After completing a circuit of the walls, Tektu knew she must climb.

  Though the effort required would be irksome, she had no fear of falling. Those who punished her knew their work well and, if she survived a collapsing castle, a fall or two from the walls would only bring bruises and cost time.

  When she finally selected the place for her climb, the only light came from the moon and stars.

  Her chosen route, a recently repaired patch, thankfully lay in the moon's shadow, in the angled part between wall and one of the evenly spaced towers. No chance of being seen.

  She found it surprisingly easy. Every block had a slightly rounded face, which gave a narrow ridge of just under an inca atop each one, before the stone above began to round out. She could reach the top of each sandstone block without stretching and, by angling her foot sideways, could comfortably stand on the narrow ridges the rounding allowed between the blocks, gripping a higher ledge with her fingers to help keep her balance.