Markan Sword

  Fareen had overseen closing the tower, and made her own arrangements.

  She had – and still – respected Naryan's wishes concerning her dead son. The pleasant, airy bedroom remained exactly as when the boy had died. Fareen even laundered the bedclothes and curtains, ordering exact replicas as the old wore out. The originals she kept on top of the large wooden chest in one corner, that also served as a toy box.

  The single garderobe contained the boy's clothes and a couple of toys were strewn about. Fareen had taken it upon herself to keep the room clean. She even washed the windows.

  Another door led into the turret's spire, doubling as a child's hiding place. And Fareen always came here to sulk.

  She sat crosslegged on the stone floor, hands resting on her knees, and stared vacantly at one of the wooden trusses. Her earpoints had recovered from her earlier shock, but unhappiness still darkened the gwerin's mood.

  Fareen-y-Vintner was her name. The name she coveted would always be Fareen-y-Marka, her old name. But she had no intention of changing again. She kept "Vintner" because she had outlived so many, passed from father to son.

  But she had not passed to Branad Vintner, but to his younger brother. That had been bad enough, though she had grown used to Nazvasta. Had even come to love him, after a fashion, though gwerins did not bond the same way as sylphs.

  And now she must change her loyalties again, to the Santon woman, who learned espionage to replace Nazvasta as Sandester's spymaster. She even had the effrontery to demand control over Fareen's own networks.

  No.

  Those networks would remain under Fareen's control. She would report as she always had – to do otherwise might damage Nazvasta's chances of gaining the throne, and be childish besides – but her contacts would remain under her control alone.

  Nazvasta had always been content to leave his gwerin to conduct her intelligence activities without close supervision. She suspected that might change under Kana's leadership.

  Leadership, not ownership.

  Fareen leaned her head back until she stared at the spire's apex. Foolishness. She really ought to have outgrown this by now. Gwerins lived a long time and served many owners.

  She held her simple nametag in her hand and ran her fingers over the lettering.

  "Fareen-y-Vintner," she muttered. "That will not change."

  ***

  Kana thanked Millan and accepted the steaming mug of alovak from the young sylph. She leaned back in the easy chair and took a deep lungful of the dark drink's aroma. It also helped mask the unpleasant smell of the infertile's sinabra.

  "Well," said Elsin, after savoring her own alovak, "what brings you here?"

  Kana smiled at her companion. "Very rare we get together these days," she replied. She glanced around the sparsely furnished, though comfortable, room. Plenty of cushions were strewn on the floor, presumably where Elsin's daughters sat or played.

  "I must say that I prefer to go my own way," replied Elsin. "No Millan, you may stay."

  "Se bata." The sylph obediently stood where her mistress pointed and fidgeted with the neckline of her tunic.

  "We need to stand together now more than ever before," countered Kana.

  "I don't recall us ever standing together," retorted Elsin. "From your antipathy towards my marriage to Branad, to our time in Marka, or even now."

  Kana forced a thin smile. "Rumor tells me you seek a new husband."

  "Word flies around the palace quickly." Elsin returned the smile.

  "Is this one true love, or another political arrangement?" Kana's tone dripped contempt as she uttered the last two words.

  Elsin laughed. "At our level, all marriages are political," she replied. "Love comes later."

  "Hardly." Kana sipped at her alovak, resisting the urge to give this upstart a piece of her mind. "Many marriages are for love. Mine to Branad, Heylena's to Nazvasta."

  A shadow flickered in Elsin's eyes.

  "Have you chosen to chase Nazvasta for your own reasons, or because your father still wants to stick his nose into Imperial politics?" Kana took another sip of alovak.

  Elsin smiled, but her eyes betrayed anything except friendliness. "My aim is merely to ensure a widow is cared for as she grows older."

  Kana harrumphed. "You are not yet thirty; spare me that nonsense."

  "And," continued Elsin, "Nazvasta has expressed some level of interest."

  "For convenience," pointed out Kana, her smile still in place. "He loves Heylena. And what of this foolish plan of marrying both your daughters to Aelfra?"

  Elsin laughed. "That is rumor," she replied. "My daughters hands will kill any claim to the throne, after Branad's renunciation."

  Kana nodded. "Then marry one to Eylvras."

  Elsin's eyes narrowed. "You suggest giving the hand of one of my daughters to Marcus Vintner's son?"

  "Why not? It would end his claim to the throne. At least, it'll stop his grandchildren from inheriting." Kana watched carefully for Elsin's reaction.

  A shrug of those narrow shoulders. "Branad's daughters with me are destined for mercantile families," she said. "Of course, any child I have by Nazvasta –"

  "There will be none, he loves Heylena."

  "– will be a different story." Elsin ignored the interruption and looked like she restrained an urge to laugh.

  For her part, Kana hoped she kept the shock off her face. A possibility she had not considered. If Elsin had children by Nazvasta, a whole new set of potentially dangerous scenarios presented themselves.

  "There is another advantage of Eylvras," she said, "especially if Nazvasta gains the throne."

  "Oh?"

  "We will need the Calcan Vintners' cooperation, and we will already have a marriage proposal to help build bridges between the two branches of the family."

  "And if Marcus wins?" murmured Elsin, before draining her alovak.

  "Then you at least will have a useful connection to the Emperor." Kana finished her own alovak and shook her head as Millan stepped forward. "But he'll need us as much as we need him. But Branad's renunciation might put him off."

  Elsin smiled. "Especially if he holds the throne," she replied.

  Kana's smile faded. "None of our children, or their descendants, can inherit the Markan Throne because of that. Anyone descended from Branad's blood cannot sit on the throne. Did you think anyone would forget?"

  Elsin's smile remained in place. "This is true. But there is much our children can manage stood to one side of the circle of power. Look at Verdin's example."

  Kana winced, not wanting to think of Verdin's example. Her mind whirled with the possibility of children between Nazvasta and Elsin. "Marry Nazvasta yourself, but look elsewhere for your daughters' future husbands, or you risk plunging the empire into chaos yet again." She stood to leave.

  The two widows, once married to the same man, exchanged parting pleasantries before Kana withdrew. Outside the apartment, she narrowed her eyes. If Elsin had children by Nazvasta, she strongly suspected that maneuvering for the succession would begin afresh. Elsin's ambition made her a dangerous opponent and Kana now realized something else.

  Elsin could not be allowed to marry Nazvasta.

  The messenger boy abruptly straightened as he saw her.

  "Well Tamon, that's today's warfare over," she said.

  The messenger smiled, but his clear blue eyes showed no real understanding. The lad probably had the good sense to keep out of palace politics.

  "You don't happen to know where our resident gwerin hides herself?" asked Kana.

  "With respect, but nobody knows that," replied Tamon. "But a messenger might spend all day chasing her around the palace."

  Kana smiled at the boy. "I'm sure she'll reappear eventually. Now, would you please go to Nazvasta and warn him that I must see him again as soon as possible?"

  Tamon nodded. "Consider it done," he replied, before turning and trotting away along the corridor.

  Kana turned the boy's words over. Consi
der it done. If only everything in life could be so simple.

  ***

  "The girls will be back from their tutor soon," Elsin told Millan. She hid her smile as the sylph's earpoints wilted briefly before recovering. Even though of an age with the two girls, Millan often found the girls' boisterousness exhausting. "What did you make of Kana's visit?"

  Millan's silver-gray eyes regarded her mistress. "I think she is trying to stop you from marrying Nazvasta," she said.

  "Good girl," said Elsin. "And I'm sure she will redouble her efforts after I told her about potential children with Nazvasta."

  The sylph blinked and her earpoints twitched in all directions, a sign of confusion. Millan was already proving surprisingly adept at detecting undercurrents, but she still had a lot of learning to do. Or perhaps she underestimated her sylph again, people always said the blue-skinned creatures saw more than they ever let on.

  "She is certainly trying to steer me in a certain direction," continued Elsin. "But she cannot grasp political subtlety. I'm the one in the driving seat. Though her suggestion of marrying one of the girls to Marcus Vintner's son is actually very good, if I wanted to go that way. Are you still speaking to Fareen?"

  Millan blinked. "She still asks me questions, yes."

  Elsin gave her sylph a quick grin. "Come closer."

  Millan obediently stepped forward.

  Elsin reached out and began to stroke one of the infertile's long ears. She watched the sylph half close her eyes in contentment and relax. "Next time Fareen asks about my plans, this is what I'd like you to say."

  As she spoke, Elsin silently thanked Siranva that she had chosen her sylph well. She continued to stroke the earpoint as she fed information and misinformation to her sylph.

  She could barely wait to hear Kana's reaction.

  ***

  Mikhan watched from his window as Kern arrived. The scientist blinked several times in the strong sunshine, used a small piece of soft cloth to clean the glass lenses, then used the small screw to keep them in the right place before his eyes.

  Mikhan knew that, for Kern, those lenses threw everything into sharp relief. Blurred edges would sharpen, and faces become recognizable, even from a distance. While he wore them, he could see as well as anyone with perfect eyesight.

  The marshal watched as a junior officer greeted Kern, welcoming him to Sandester Barracks. A quick glance at the South Gate, then he turned away from the window to smile his own welcome.

  "Good morning," he said.

  Kern nodded and, after a quick look around the room, removed his lenses. He peered myopically at Mikhan.

  "I'm told you have just delivered our first batch of firepowder," continued Mikhan.

  "Yes," replied Kern. "Yes, I have. Two tuns of it, in fact."

  "Excellent work!" boomed Mikhan. "You and your men are to be congratulated."

  "Thank you." Kern bobbed his head. "But there has been an argument."

  "If I can help sort it out, I'm at your service."

  "A generous offer. The charcoal burners are most unwilling to share the secrets of their trade. To maintain production, we need more charcoal, which calls for more burners. The other ingredients are easy enough to acquire, but without more charcoal, the rest is useless."

  Mikhan reflected that two tuns of the firepowder might be sufficient, but dared not voice that opinion aloud. Who knew what might be happening in Marka? "I'll do what I can," he promised. "I'll have words with the guildspeople."

  "Already tried that." Kern pulled his lenses and soft cloth free and began to polish the glass again. Vigorously. "They are almost as pigheaded as the burners."

  "I'll ask them if they're prepared to compromise if we use other guildspeople," said Mikhan. "Don't worry, I'm used to arguing with guilds. They seem to be the same the world over."

  "I tested random samples throughout the manufacturing process," continued Kern. "Well, as random as I possibly could. There's no way for one man to really choose things out completely at random, because his brain chooses. And a man's brain always looks for patterns, which means –"

  "The tests?" Mikhan hoped his prompt came across as a gentle interruption. Not only guildspeople were touchy.

  Kern gave the marshal another myopic stare, quite disconcerting with those eyes imprecisely focused. "The tests. Yes. The quality of the firepowder is first class, I can assure you."

  "I'm glad to hear it." Mikhan smiled again. "This is a decisive weapon."

  Kern nodded again. "We'll continue to produce it until you tell us to stop," he promised.

  "With any luck, we won't need it," said Mikhan. "And with the containers we keep it in, it'll stay good forever."

  "So long as it stays dry," said Kern, fixing his lenses in place again. "If we can get more burners working on getting us more charcoal, I can produce firepowder at this rate indefinitely."

  Mikhan's smile looked more predatory this time. "You'll get your burners," he promised.

  ***

  Nazvasta and Kana looked up as the door to the observatory clicked shut.

  "Better now?" Nazvasta raised an eyebrow as he spoke to Fareen.

  The gwerin shrugged and took a seat so Nazvasta sat between her and Kana.

  "Whether you like it or not," continued Nazvasta, "you will report to Kana from now on. Get your sulking over and done with, and take a good grip of yourself." Despite his strong words, sympathy lurked in his voice. "You've done this before and survived."

  Fareen's pale brown eyes stared balefully at Kana. "I will report to you as faithfully as to Nazvasta," she promised. She tapped her nametag. "But my allegiance is his alone."

  "As you wish," replied Kana, blue-gray eyes calm. "You can even still report to him. But you come to me first."

  "Se bata."

  Nazvasta decided to ignore the irony Fareen added to the words.

  Kana fixed the gwerin with a steely gaze. "Elsin's plans have gone beyond marrying Nazvasta simply for political convenience," she said. She gestured towards her brother-in-law. "I've informed him, of course, but I think you need to know."

  Fareen blinked. "Gone beyond?"

  "Elsin now wants to have my babies," added Nazvasta with a grin.

  "Oh."

  "Yes, oh." Kana nodded. "Those children would not be bound by Branad's renunciation."

  "No." Fareen's expression grew thoughtful. "You think Elsin is now a threat?"

  Kana shrugged. "She's always been ambitious. Certainly not to be trusted. I think we should tell her to forget her dreams of marrying Nazvasta."

  Fareen pursed lips. "But we must offer her something else."

  "Think on it," said Nazvasta. He stood and looked along his bookshelves. He twisted his head to read some book titles and eventually found one he sought. He pulled it free and blew dust from the top of the pages.

  "Ingen's Statecraft," he told Kana, passing her the book. "Essential reading. The woman is eight centuries dead, but the principles she outlines are as valid today as they ever were."

  Kana riffled the pages.

  "There are no pictures," added Nazvasta, with a grin.

  Kana looked up. "Never expected any," she replied. "The print is awfully small."

  "It's quite a long book," explained Nazvasta. "Fareen reads the Histories for punishment, but she reads that one for fun."

  Fareen gave a disapproving sniff.

  Nazvasta ignored the gwerin's rancor and returned to the shelves. "Blaymer's Causes of War. Another good book. Telli's On diplomacy. Frensa's Age of Expansion. Rannard's State Survival and his rather philosophical treatise Ideal State. Should keep you going for a week or two."

  Kana looked at the small pile of books.

  "Nothing about spying," she remarked.

  Fareen laughed.

  "Read between the lines." Nazvasta smiled. "How a state comes into existence and how it survives; how and why to fight wars; the way in which states use diplomacy and empire building." He waved his copy of Ideal State. "Most importantly
, why idealists are always dangerous and must be watched." He dropped the book onto the pile.

  "A lot of complicated ideas here," complained Kana.

  "You'll manage," said Nazvasta. "You certainly seem intelligent enough, and I'm sure Fareen will help explain anything really deep."

  "Or words that are too long," added the gwerin.

  "That'll do, Fareen." A warning note crept into Nazvasta's voice.

  "I'd better get these to my rooms then." Kana stood and looked at the gwerin. "I'll meet you here tomorrow, immediately after breakfast and we can discuss in depth what to do about Elsin." She turned her attention to Nazvasta. "You may as well tell her what you told me."

  Navasta watched her leave.

  "Tell me what?" demanded Fareen.

  "That all three armies are now in place," said Nazvasta. "We received birds this afternoon. We're ready to play."

  "Good."

  Nazvasta leaned down and deposited a bundle of light blue cloth in front of the startled gwerin. "I hope you're satisfied."

  Fareen lifted one edge far enough to see one side of a golden dragon's head and a slow smile spread across her face. "Oh yes," she murmured. "Very satisfied."

  ***

  Chapter 23

  Politics

  Jenn tried her best to be discreet while she watched Galenna with her owner's children. She ought to be with Marcus now, but he had gone to the Senate, where she would not be welcome. She remembered the mutters the first time they went into the Senate, when she had sat at his feet and ignored all the unfriendly stares directed her way. How could she have known infertiles only ever entered the place to clean it?

  Marcus now took Eleka to his meetings with Zenepha. She understood the reasoning behind that because, as mother to a gwerin, Eleka could wrap the palace gwerins around her finger just by being there. Even so, Jenn resented being left behind in her owner's quarters and sharing household chores as if she were a simple domestic sylph. Wherever her owner went, she ought to go as well.

  So now she sat in the children's room, set aside for play and teaching the younger children, watching while assuming an air of bored indifference.

  Caralin – oldest of the Vintner children – now received formal education at one of the schools in the city, but the two younger girls were still taught in the palace. And Eylvras, at three the youngest and now beginning to look like a proper human, struggled to learn his first letters.