Markan Sword

  "Well, coming from a maritime climate myself, I tend to find summer heat stifling," admitted Marcus. "I'm glad to find you in a shady spot."

  "And what can I do for you?" asked Djerana. "I'm sorry to hear about the vote, but I cannot see what I can do about it."

  "Neither do I." Marcus smiled. "You must be pleased that Zenepha gets to carry on as Emperor."

  "Mixed feelings," replied the ilven, "which mirror his own."

  "I'm surprised you're not with him."

  "He's with Selkina." Djerana shrugged. "I'm not always welcome those times."

  Marcus joined in her laughter.

  The ilven grew serious again. "You have not asked me to attach to you," she said. "You must know that was the reason they brought me here."

  "You make it sound as if you had little choice," replied Marcus. "Which is not quite how Grayar tells it."

  Djerana grinned and nodded. "You have no idea how persuasive Grayar can be. Some might call it bullying. But when he told me he was coming here... Well, what adventurous ilven could resist?"

  "Your loyalty to Zenepha has been nothing short of commendable," said Marcus. "And few can have forgotten your courage during the siege."

  Djerana snorted. "Courage? Why do people think ilven have no courage? It is what you mean. You do not expect me to stand before an enemy, so you praise me for courage when I do."

  "No." Marcus shook his head. "I really mean courage. Nobody who did not have to be at the walls ever came near. You did, despite everyone urging you to stay away. That's courage, Lady Ilven."

  "Your sylph scouts display greater courage every day." She wrinkled her nose, perhaps still not completely reconciled to the idea of sylphs running with armies.

  "And when Zenepha steps down, will you stay with him, or return to your sisters?" asked Marcus.

  "I'll return to my sisters eventually," she replied. "But I must see Zenepha settled first. There are questions from his past that must be answered and Grayar tells me I can help with that."

  "You'll always be welcome in Marka, Djerana."

  The grin returned. "Hoping I'll attach myself to you and help cement your position?"

  Marcus spread his hands, as if caught out in an underhand scheme. "The thought did gallop into my mind and take lodgings there," he admitted.

  Djerana laughed. "Thank you for your honesty. Though ilven are not possessions to be passed around like sylphs."

  "Neither are sylphs," pointed out Marcus. "They hate changing allegiance."

  "But for the most part, they are possessions." Djerana gave her companion a neutral look.

  "If you feel so strongly, why have you not entered the debate between the Free Tribe and civilized sylphs?"

  "Because that is for them to debate and reach their own, individual decision," she replied. "I am a free agent. If I ask to be returned home, Grayar or even Sandev would take me there."

  "Of course. Your status is not in any question." Marcus shrugged. "Well, if you don't want to, you don't want to."

  Djerana put a hand on his arm. "I'll tell everybody I meet how unfairly you've been treated," she promised. "But I cannot do any more than that for you. We ilven ask to be left alone by humans, and if we reward that indulgence by interfering in your politics, the compact might break down."

  "Somehow I doubt that. Si – The Father himself gave us his instructions concerning his daughters."

  "So He did," said Djerana, as if she might have forgotten. "You still have my word. You deserve the throne."

  "And when I get it, will the sisters return to Marka?" asked Marcus.

  "Our numbers dwindle." Djerana looked sad. "We do not know why, but those He calls to His side number a little more than those He sends to us." Her emerald eyes abruptly focused again. "I doubt very much if we shall return to this continent during your lifetime."

  Marcus sighed. Probably something to do with the struggle between the sephiroths again. "Well, if I ever find a way to reverse that, I promise to tell you."

  Djerana's smile suddenly lit up her face again. "I appreciate the thought."

  Marcus gave the ilven's shoulder a gentle squeeze, regained his feet and looked down at her. "For what little you can do, thank you," he said, before turning to leave the garden.

  ***

  The assassin crouched and stroked the cat's fur with long fingers. Thoughts whirled and twirled, mingling with half plans and ideas.

  "Make Marcus suffer as he loses his family. Drag it out, drive him insane."

  A cruel command. Despite the assassin's profession, cruelty did not rate highly. The assassin preferred self-preservation over creative murder. Fortunate indeed that the girl's body had not yet been recovered. With luck, her boyfriend would hang for the murder of the Vintners' governess, which would deflect attention away.

  The boy would be an unfortunate casualty, so the assassin could complete the offered contract. The commission always came first; to act otherwise would be unprofessional.

  That Marcus Vintner lived within the palace made the task harder. So many people seemed to believe that an assassin could swan into a place, hide as if invisible, strike from the shadows, and melt away. The truth was very different.

  Sure, an assassin gave the appearance of invisibility. An assassin might be anybody, but no killer could take out people one at a time without others becoming aware of what walked in their midst. Even a series of accidents would stretch anybody's belief in coincidence.

  Fire, ambush, poison... A number of options had been considered and rejected. The Vintners rarely traveled around together, which excluded ambush. A fire might not be successful, or might kill those who were not targets – and that would be most amateurish.

  Poison seemed a useful option, but sometimes a cumulative dose was necessary. Sure, that guaranteed the children dying first, adding to Vintner's anguish, but it would be realized long before the adults died that a poisoner was responsible and an investigation begun.

  And these people had access to the best healers, including those who were Gifted.

  Worse than that, their damned sylph seemed to have some sort of sixth sense. She was suspicious of almost everyone entering those apartments and checked everything carefully. The assassin had begun to believe that the sylph must have been specially trained to detect anything out of place.

  Perhaps Jenn ought to be the next to die.

  But again, that would trigger its own investigation; they had lost Kaira and if the Vintners now lost their sylph, they would know.

  And suspicion always fell on new starters first.

  The cat purred under the attention of those long fingers, and dark blue eyes smiled down at the creature.

  Both parents were out now and the children were at their most vulnerable, but the assassin made no move. An unplanned, spontaneous attack would be the worst possible thing to do, with no lines of retreat planned or protected.

  And the sylph was there.

  A fall from a window or a trip on the stair? Such things happened even to sylphs, renowned for their agility. A cart with stones suddenly upending? No, that required far too much preplanning and preparation. Not to mention involving someone else, anathema to any self-respecting assassin.

  Too many things could go wrong and capture would end all future assassinations.

  Not for the first time, the assassin wondered if Dervra wanted his tool to survive this commission. But planning would eventually provide a solution.

  Long fingers stroked harder and the cat, pleased for the attention, purred.

  ***

  Chapter 24

  Sallis Begins Work

  Sallis ti Ath walked Kaira's route between the library and palace several times. Though he often mocked the City Guard for sometimes missing the obvious, the organization usually displayed efficiency and thoroughness during its investigations.

  Sallis smiled as he walked, and a woman, thinking the smile meant for her, smiled back. He nodded as he hurried on through the crowd. Perhaps unfair t
o accuse the guard of missing the obvious, they almost always went for that; what caused the guard problems was failing to understand that life never quite worked that way.

  Most people who went missing did so after a row. Cause created effect, according to simple logic. In the absence of any other information, the guard were right to suspect Basren, but wrong to ignore Kaira's employers. The employer was just as likely to be responsible as the lover. Not even the Vintners could be above suspicion with regard to crime. Even if Sallis believed he would soon cross Kaira's employers off his suspects list.

  The guard assumed death had found the unfortunate Kaira; Sallis knew it had, but the guard did not enjoy the privilege of the Gift. Kaira had died somewhere between the library and palace, or else had been abducted and killed later.

  Sallis determined to learn which today, then he could concentrate on the why.

  He wished the favor he still held in his pocket could give him some sort of lead, a trail to follow, but it only told him its owner was dead. He could not follow the dead, not even trails left when they were still alive. Death, it seemed, destroyed all traces, except for memories. And even those faded over time.

  He thought as he walked, and remained observant, aware of everything going on about him.

  As always stalls filled part of the road, some obscuring the many permanent shops. They were always erected in a slightly different place each day, so the holders would have little to say about the missing Kaira. Poorly dressed children and sylphs, presumably sent out to beg or steal what they could, lingered hopefully, or avoided watchful stallkeepers. Despite Zenepha's precautions, some people were still too lazy to work if they could find an easier way, even at someone else's expense. Sallis firmed his lips; using children or sylphs to provide such people a living disgusted him.

  People swirled around him, some more observant than others. Most saw him without looking, just another human obstruction to push aside or, after closer examination, pass. Few saw more than a tall, thin man exuding a hint of menace.

  Almost nobody recognized him, just the way he liked it. Mothers often used his name to frighten children into obedience, but few people could actually describe him.

  Perhaps he looked nicer than the tales suggested.

  The sylphs were different. They saw everything. Their gaze did not flinch away, for they rarely looked directly into Sallis's eyes. Most darted through the crowds on errands and he had no interest in them. Perhaps they had been on the street the day Kaira had been abducted, and likely not.

  An infertile crouched opposite the first alley Sallis reached, leaning her back against a wall. She looked comfortable, with arms wrapped around her knees. She watched everything going on in the market, her earpoints twitching in interest. People obscured her from view as they passed, but only her head and eyes moved. She looked far too clean to be a beggar – not that there were many proper beggars left in Marka – but Sallis vaguely recalled seeing her several times before, in exactly the same spot, watching everything on the street.

  He crossed to join her and dropped a copper coin immediately in front of her. The infertile stared down at it, her earpoints twitching forward before she looked up. She made no move to touch the coin. Sallis noted both ears had a wisp of silvery hair, showing this sylph had seen many summers.

  "Donenya, I have no need for your money," she said, clear silver eyes looking at his cheek.

  "Not a beggar then," remarked Sallis.

  Those silver eyes glittered and her earpoints came fully upright. "My owner is Tranos Dovna Grulian," she replied. "But I tire easily these days and I am allowed to spend my days enjoying the sun." She tapped the wall. "My home lies on the other side."

  "You're here every day?" pressed Sallis.

  The infertile nodded.

  "Have you seen anybody taken down that alley against their will? A young human woman?"

  The infertile sighed. "Lots of people enter the alley," she replied. "Some young, some old; some male, some female; many sylphs, a few humans."

  "Any hint of anyone taken there against their will?"

  This time the aged infertile's gaze met Sallis's. "Never," she answered.

  "Thank you," said Sallis, turning away.

  "I do not need this coin, donenya."

  "Keep it," replied Sallis. "Give it to your owner, whatever."

  Sallis looked into the alley anyway, but it looked no different from alleys in any city. This one might perhaps be cleaner than most, but nothing stood out here.

  The next alley had a couple of young sylphs playing in it, dodging around the piles of rubbish infesting the ground. They were shy however, and ran away when Sallis tried to question them.

  He prodded about, but eventually left with no new clues. About to leave the alley, he glanced across at the slightly raised area, covered with a wooden lid. He pushed the cover aside and peered into the inky blackness below. Far below, he heard rushing water.

  "Not thinking of throwing yourself in, young man?"

  Sallis turned at the new voice and hid his surprise. The old man stood before him wore fashionable white shirt and ankle-length breeches, and dark shoes covered his feet, but he was anything but ordinary.

  Hair silvered with age topped a lined face, but keen blue eyes skewered him with their intensity. Sallis felt no surprise that the man had come on him unawares; only now he sensed the Gift emanating from him in waves. More importantly, he recognized the man.

  "Grayar," said Sallis, inclining his head. "Throwing myself in is the last thing on my mind."

  Grayar managed a smile. "Though there must be an interesting reason why Marka's most famous bounty hunter is staring into the river into which the poor throw their night soil."

  Sallis smiled and shrugged. Though Gifted himself, he had few reasons to trust others so blessed. After all, one had trained him and then dropped him when that training did not bring the expected results. And Sandev, though outwardly friendly and polite, always maintained her distance.

  They didn't understand him and he didn't really want to know them, either. He no longer let their mistrust bother him.

  "So long as the poor do not draw their water here," said Sallis, which hardly served as an explanation.

  Grayar smiled. "The city's water comes from another river, higher than this one," he replied. "I remember them sending down the first bores. The lower river was discovered later – lower rivers to be precise – and the city's founders decided then to utilize those for carrying away sewage."

  "And do you know where this river comes out?" asked Sallis.

  "They come out in different places," replied Grayar. "You need to ask the linesmen, who are the poor unfortunates who must clear blockages."

  "Never heard of that happening," remarked Sallis, "and I've been here almost thirty years."

  "You've never heard of the city being flooded." Grayar smiled. "Storms often wash forest debris into the rivers and that can get jammed underground. And if the river that carries away the city's sewage is allowed to rise too far, then the drinking water will be contaminated. Hence the linesmen."

  Sallis had never heard of linesmen. "Where might I find them?" he asked.

  Grayar's silver eyebrows rose in unison. "The Water Office," he replied. "Next door to the main library. Thirty years, and you never knew that."

  Sallis nodded and filed the snippet away. "I'll bear the linesmen in mind."

  Grayar skewered Sallis with another piercing gaze. "There is a reason why you're staring at the drain," he said. "You didn't come down here to frighten sylphs."

  "You're right, I didn't." Sallis smiled. "Why are you here?"

  "Most of us who are Gifted help to heal the sick," replied Grayar. "Some of us even give our time freely. Some."

  "My healing kills," retorted Sallis. "My skills lie in other directions."

  "So they do." Grayar gave Sallis a tight nod, before leaving the alley.

  Sallis pushed the wooden lid back into place. He doubted if anything had h
appened in this alley and soon followed Grayar back onto the street.

  Sallis walked on to the next alley, delighted to see a row of shops opposite the entrance. Even better, a jeweler's had two sylphs sat laboring in the window, their nimble fingers suited to the delicate work fine jewelry usually demanded.

  They might have seen something.

  Sallis paused at a stall surrounded by salivating sylphs, where he bought a couple of soft treats, laced with choca. Carrying his purchase carefully, he pushed his way into the jewelry shop.

  Both sylphs looked up as he entered, but interested inquiry changed to confused concern. Sallis knew why, though he doubted the sylphs realized they could thank the Gift for their sudden discomfiture. The shop owner bustled up, a lady somewhere in her middle years, but with a stern face.

  "Can I help you, sir?"

  Sallis smiled. Not only sylphs felt uncomfortable around him. "Perhaps your sylphs can," he replied. "I've been asked to investigate a sudden disappearance and I'm wondering if they might have seen something."

  "They would surely have said something at the time," replied the woman.

  Sallis kept his smile in place. "Perhaps they might like to answer for themselves."

  The woman's mouth tightened. "So long as you do not keep them from their work too long," she said.

  Sallis inclined his head. "I shall do my best to be brief," he promised.

  The shop owner retreated to allow privacy, but her blue eyes watched Sallis carefully as he turned his attention to her sylphs.

  "I'm Sallis ti Ath," he told them. "And you probably overheard the reason I'm here."

  Both sylphs nodded slowly and the male gave him a slow blink. They carefully laid their tools down and turned away from setting small stones into gold rings.

  "Melden," said the male sylph, introducing himself.

  "Esrina," said his female companion. A glow to her complexion suggested to Sallis that she was in the early stages of pregnancy.

  "A girl used to pass here several times a week," said Sallis. "About so tall, with light brown hair and blue eyes."

  The sylphs exchanged a look and blinked. "There are many girls like this in Marka," said Melden, eventually.

  "Young, with a little less than twenty-five years," continued Sallis. "She usually wore finely spun dresses, but otherwise without any adornment or jewelry. She is unlikely to have been a customer here."

  Blank looks met Sallis's words.