Markan Sword

  Jenn watched Galenna carefully. Something about the girl bothered the sylph and she always listened to her instincts. She did not think simple jealousy caused the feeling.

  She envied the attention Marcus lavished on his children, but always chided herself for selfishness. Human parents had to dote on their offspring. But she knew she felt jealousy towards Zandra, who had effectively stolen Marcus from her.

  She had never gotten used to the woman's presence, even if she could now tolerate it. She must, she had no choice. No matter her foolish dreams, she would never have her owner's attention the way Zandra enjoyed.

  But this feeling was different.

  Jenn liked and respected Kaira. Had. The infertile sylph feared the worst for the previous governess. She would not have run away, the Vintners were good employers and reasonable people.

  She looked at the interloper and her earpoints slanted forward. Suddenly, Galenna stared back at the sylph, her dark blue eyes unusually intense. Dark brown hair fell forward, normally an endearing feature, but now it looked threatening. Jenn quickly looked away.

  Definitely something about the new governess, and that something troubled Jenn.

  ***

  Marcus spoke to the Senate at length. He suspected he had rarely given a better speech, employing logic and emotion in all the relevant places. He had always believed the old merchants' saying that, while logic opened a man's mind, emotion opened his purse. Or, in this case, swayed votes in his favor.

  All two hundred and thirty-two Senators were packed within, Marcus stood slightly in front of the leader's chair. Senator Rogort listened, head resting on his chin.

  "In conclusion," said Marcus, as pleased as most of the Senators to reach the end, "a missing or stolen scrap of paper cannot turn aside my legitimate claim to the Markan Throne. All my ancestors were born in wedlock, and even the marriage we debate today was properly legal."

  He looked around the chamber. There were plenty of enemies here and he knew his words would not have swayed them an inca. "Remember also that the reasons for the secret concord's existence are no longer valid, as enunciated earlier. Ask who you would prefer to rule you: a man whose line renounced the claim, perfectly legally; a man whose customs and traditions are alien to our own; or the man who won the right to this throne through battle."

  A stir met those words. "I remember standing in this very chamber two years ago and urging you to choose wisely," said Marcus. "I urge the same today."

  He turned and inclined his head to the Senator Rogort, who nodded back. Ominously, silence filled the Senate.

  "Thank you, Marcus Vintner," said Rogort. "You may stay for the debate and vote if you wish, though I must tell you that this vote must be held by secret ballot, because of its sensitive nature."

  Marcus nodded. "I'll wait in Olista's office." He had no wish to hear the arguments over his alleged illegitimacy. He leaned forward. "This is a ridiculous waste of time."

  Rogort leaned forward too and lowered his voice. "But inevitable that someone would turn this up. The document's absence would have been discovered sooner or later."

  "The document's absence is an irrelevance," retorted Marcus. "I'll wait in the Supreme Councilor's office until you have a result."

  "As you wish." Rogort sat back.

  Marcus heard the Senate leader raise his voice over the murmurs as he left, letting the door close under its own weight behind him.

  He did not have far to walk.

  Olista's secretary looked up as the claimant entered the office.

  "Marcus Vintner," she said. "He's expecting you."

  "Thank you, Melda," replied Marcus, giving the middle aged secretary a small bow. He felt surprise that she did not challenge him over an appointment. Perhaps Marka's effective ruler already knew he would end up here.

  Olista rose to his feet when he saw Marcus walk into his study. He gestured towards a pair of easy chairs with a smile.

  "We may as well sit," said the Supreme Councilor.

  Marcus sat. "It's not looking good," he said. "No need for alovak."

  Olista took the seat opposite. "I checked the depository records," he said. "The best I can find is a listing of the book that contained the document. Not specific documents."

  "Should there be a listing?" Marcus sat straighter, hope sparking anew.

  "There should." Olista's voice sounded grim. "But there isn't."

  "We must find a way around this," insisted Marcus. "We've come too far to be thwarted by a single sheet of parchment now."

  "You do possess one advantage." Olista smiled, though it barely touched his dark blue eyes.

  "I'm in Marka and Nazvasta isn't." Marcus waved a dismissive hand. "And my army is here, which Nazvasta's isn't."

  "That must count for something," said Olista. "And there is no move in the Council asking Zenepha to summon any other claimant to Marka."

  "And if the Senate votes against me?" Marcus shook his head. "One of my best speeches and I got no response whatsoever out of them."

  "The Senate might surprise you."

  Marcus snorted. "I doubt if I'll leave this building happy. They've been told all about the secret concord and all except my most fervent supporters will put their legal blinkers on, say 'but it's the law' and end my claim."

  "They cannot end your claim," replied Olista. "Only refuse to accept it."

  Marcus gave a dismissive wave. "Amounts to the same thing."

  "Your claim is out of their hands," continued Olista. "Nobody on the Council is agitating against you, even amongst your opponents."

  "They must feel very happy about this missing scrap of paper," muttered Marcus. "But I do wonder when the document might have been stolen."

  "Not to mention the question of the thief's identity," added Olista.

  "We know the thief's identity," retorted Marcus. "Oh, I doubt if Nazvasta stole it himself, but he certainly commanded whoever did remove it from the depository."

  Olista rested his elbows on the chair arms and interlaced his fingers. "Perhaps."

  "Dammit, the information reached us from Sandester."

  Olista inclined his head. "I do not question that Nazvasta has capitalized on your misfortune; neither do I question that the information was granted to your rival first. But remember that Nazvasta has not yet staked his claim."

  "Nor should he," grunted Marcus. "Branad renounced it."

  "Nazvasta will not jump into this as long as Zenepha holds the throne," pointed out Olista. "He swore his allegiance to the boy."

  "But he will do anything to prevent me from replacing Zenepha."

  "And who else has a vested interest in an ongoing civil war, with faction fighting faction?" Olista smiled.

  "Whoever's pretending to be Hingast," suggested Marcus. "Perhaps Enthan wants to keep us on the back foot."

  "Who stood behind Hingast? Who helped the Markan Empire collapse in the first place?"

  "I assume you refer to one or another of Sandev's mysterious friends." Marcus tutted. "Something else I must worry over, it seems!"

  "Exactly. That game hasn't played out to its conclusion." Olista interlaced his fingers again. "Grayar remains in Marka. Djerana refuses to return home."

  "I don't see what a struggle between the sephiroths has to do with Marka," said Marcus. "At least, not in any direct sense."

  "Everything." Olista leaned forward. "Without the struggle between the sephiroths, there would be no Marka. That is the whole reason we exist. What Marka stands for."

  Marcus held up his hands. "So you're saying the malefic sephiroth stole my ancestor's wedding document? Haven't they got more important things to worry about?"

  "You are the important thing they have to worry about." Olista smiled. "Sure you don't want alovak?"

  "No thank you."

  "As you wish." Olista's gaze swept across his books before returning to Marcus. "Look how many Prefectures returned to us just because we put Zenepha on the throne. Imagine how many more will return once the
rightful Emperor takes his place. Order restored from chaos. Peace from war. Law from anarchy. Marka is seen as a beacon of hope. We don't claim to be the jewel of the world for no reason whatsoever."

  Marcus blinked.

  "A strong and united Marka keeps Siranva in the forefront of men's minds," continued Olista. "It keeps away the darkness that's always looking for new ways to subvert this world, our home, to its own image. People look at Marka and the pyramid beside it and remember that once men were more. And will be again. This city ensures all men in the world remember that there is a malefic sephiroth to guard against."

  "And instead Marka's Senate squabbles," grumbled Marcus.

  "If putting Nazvasta on the throne would end our woes, I would do that tomorrow," said Olista. "No, hear me out. It would not, for several reasons. If the Senate blocks your accession because of a missing document, it will block Nazvasta's accession because of a renunciation of the claim. And that is recorded. That particular document is not missing, I can assure you."

  "If the Senate vote goes against me, how will we win through?" asked Marcus. "I've given this much thought and can see nothing."

  "Probably because we're thinking of ways to counter the missing paper your enemies are exploiting." Olista smiled again. "We'll find something, I promise you."

  "Are there any duplicate documents anywhere?" asked Marcus. "In any other library?"

  Olista pursed his lips. "I doubt it," he replied. He looked over his shoulder. "I insist you take alovak with me. The debate might last hours and we have much to discuss."

  Marcus stared, then relented. "Very well," he said.

  ***

  Zandra frowned into her alovak. Both Tamsin and Menta sat with her in the garden room at Olista's villa. This room enjoyed a tiled floor, walls painted white, and wicker furniture. Though the wicker gave easily, Zandra could not hide her gratitude for the cushions.

  One wall was missing, large wooden shutters folded back so the occupants of the room could enjoy the garden without sitting out in the sun's full glare.

  A sylph hovered with the alovak can, while two more worked quietly in the large garden, deadheading early roses and pulling the occasional weed that dared invade the otherwise pristine plot. All three wore plain gray work tunics and simple leather collars.

  Tamsin sighed as she watched the sylphs. "Ylena and Pelena much prefer to be out there pottering, than in here serving," she remarked.

  "But they do serve?" Zandra raised an eyebrow.

  "They do."

  "Is anything wrong with the alovak?" asked Menta, observing Zandra's hestitation. "Rabaran will brew more if it is too strong, or too weak."

  The sylph with the alovak can nodded and took a half step forward.

  Zandra came to. "It's fine. Thank you." To prove the point, she took a sip and, in fairness, the brew was exactly as she liked it. "Just thinking of what the Senate might do."

  "They might do anything." Menta smiled. "Though we understand your worry."

  Tamsin tutted. "If the vote goes against us, we will have to think of another way," she said. "I know several Senators spoke of changing that particular law to clarify the circumstances under which it is valid."

  "If it is on the statute, then the law is already quite clear," said Zandra. "Perhaps it is time to remove it altogether."

  "Olista doubts if there is another copy of the marriage document anywhere," continued Tamsin. "Whoever took it has probably destroyed it."

  "Your words cheer me considerably," said Zandra.

  "Have you met with the guilds?" asked Menta.

  Zandra pulled herself together. "Yes. They are still happy to support Marcus, but only when Zenepha stands aside. I asked what might happen if Nazvasta claimed the throne instead, and all I received were blank looks."

  "Which means they have not considered the possibility," remarked Tamsin.

  "Until I pointed it out." In truth, this last bothered Zandra a lot more than the likelihood of the vote going against Marcus. They both expected that to happen.

  "Donanya?" Rabaran lifted the alovak can.

  "Thank you." Zandra held out her empty mug for a refill.

  "Zenepha is quite upset that this missing document has been brought to the Senate's attention," said Tamsin. "The boy hopes to step down –"

  "We hope he does," murmured Zandra.

  "– but the Senate have other ideas. There is even a faction, small but growing, who want to make his position permanent."

  "What?" Zandra almost spilled her alovak.

  Tamsin smiled. "There are many who believe that Zenepha is an excellent Emperor. It's true, but sylphs are not meant to lead humans, no matter what the wild sylphs say on the matter."

  "We fear what might happen if Zenepha abdicates and nobody succeeds him," put in Menta. "Imagine all the chaos that will probably follow."

  She gave a delicate shudder, but Zandra doubted if this woman was either delicate or frightened.

  "We already know what will happen," said Zandra. "Even if we accept – which we don't – that the loss of this quarter-millennium old document debars Marcus's legitimacy, he still won the right to the throne in battle. He defeated and captured the only other claimant the Supreme Council summoned to Marka."

  "It's not how the Senate sees it," said Menta, gently.

  "So is this part of the political maneuvering between Senate and Council?" asked Zandra.

  Menta shrugged. "We think it is more to do with politics between different branches of the Vintner family."

  "Branad renounced his claim. For himself and his descendants. We must begin with that." Zandra looked at the two women with her. Rabaran stood to one side, wearing a mask of assumed indifference, while the other two sylphs continued to work in the full glare of the sun. Where were the rest of Olista's sylphs? Zandra recalled this villa being full of them. "Everybody must remember why we want the throne in the first place. And, no matter how good he is, they must also remember that our Emperor will not be taken seriously by many of the former Prefectures. We know better, but to them, he is only a sylph."

  "And if the vote is against Marcus?" Tamsin spoke quietly.

  "Then we begin to educate people why a human Emperor is better than a sylph one. Starting with those in the Senate who believe there is a better way, or a better candidate."

  Tamsin laughed. "We've been trying to do that for years. There are always those who will not see."

  Zandra stared into her alovak again. She had come too far and faced too many setbacks to surrender now. Yet she could see no way out of this one.

  ***

  "Mixed news, I'm afraid."

  Olista looked down at the note delivered by messenger and passed on, unopened, by Melda.

  Marcus, who had already passed his limit on alovak, gritted his teeth. "Don't spin it out," he growled.

  Olista nodded. "You managed sixty votes, which isn't bad."

  "The rest voted against," groaned Marcus.

  "No." A smile flickered at the corners of Olista's mouth. "One hundred and fifteen voted against and fifty-seven abstained."

  Marcus leaned forward, interest shining in his eyes. "Just short of an outright majority," he said.

  "Which means your claim isn't dead yet." Olista flashed a quick grin. "Not the best outcome and you can expect them to have a second vote. And there is something more."

  Marcus waited.

  "Senator Panan has tabled a motion to abolish the secret concord, but I have no more information than that."

  "One of my supporters," remarked Marcus, pushing hair away from his eyes.

  "He is." Olista nodded. "Well known for scouring the statute for obsolete laws to repeal. A very tidy Senator, obsessed with detail and simplicity."

  "Sounds like a contradiction."

  "Perhaps. He has a good eye for detail and believes the law must be kept as simple as possible, preventing too many legal interpretations of the same piece of legislation."

  "He sounds a sensible man," sa
id Marcus. "We must pay more attention to him from now on."

  "My advice to you is to worry about the second vote. Personally, I believe that is inevitable, as they are just two votes short of an outright majority."

  "Would that end my claim?"

  "As far as the Senate is concerned, yes." Olista grimaced. "It is possible for you to force your way onto the throne despite it, but far better to gain that throne through peaceful acceptance than by the sword."

  Marcus stroked his chin. "A political problem, rather than a military one," he mused. "More the sort I enjoy solving."

  "We will find a way around it," promised Olista.

  "The solution is probably easier than we yet realize," said Marcus. "I wonder if Djerana might be able to help."

  "Djerana?" Confusion clouded Olista's expression.

  "You wanted an ilven," said Marcus. "Remember that they carry a lot of influence, just by their presence."

  "But she attached herself to Zenepha!"

  "So she did." Marcus smiled. "But that doesn't mean she can't help influence the choice of his successor."

  "Worth a try, I suppose," said Olista, "but don't expect too much. Ilven don't appreciate being prodded in a given direction."

  Marcus laughed. "Only one way to find out."

  Olista smiled. "I warn you: be very subtle. Any hint the conversation is not going as you wish, I recommend you withdraw, discreetly and quickly. It means you can return to the subject later."

  Marcus, who had already decided something along similar lines, inclined his head. "Thank you for the advice," he said. "And the alovak."

  ***

  Djerana looked up and smiled as Marcus entered the palace garden. As usual, the ilven lay comfortably sprawled on some grass, pleasantly shaded from the worst of the sun. She wore forest-green tunic and leggings, barefoot as always, showing no concession to the heat. Marcus could not recall her ever removing an item of clothing. He supposed she must sometimes; he'd seen her wear clothes of different colors before.

  "Thought you might be enjoying the sun," remarked Marcus, sitting crosslegged beside her.

  Djerana's emerald gaze flickered towards a couple of sylphs who lay fully stretched out in full sunlight, wearing as little as possible.

  "I'm ilven, not a sylph," she said, as if that was explanation enough. "And as forest dwellers, we ilven like to shelter in a tree's shade in the heat of the day."