Markan Sword

  "Can you remember anyone even remotely fitting the description entering that alley?" Sallis nodded towards the alley in question. "She might have been dragged or lured in."

  Esrina shook her head.

  "Melden?" Sallis had noticed the male sylph's earpoints twitch upright.

  "Weeks ago," said Melden. "A young lady went into the alley with a companion wrapped all in black, but only the companion left it again."

  "You're sure?" asked Sallis.

  Melden nodded. "Light brown hair, though I did not see her eyes. Pretty dress."

  Sallis swung to Esrina. "You did not see?"

  Esrina shook her head.

  "You were brewing alovak," Melden told her. "Perhaps the girl had passed before, but there are many with that description. But I remember the companion all in black."

  "Not many wear such garb in Marka," remarked Sallis. "Mostly outlanders, mostly from the south and west. Did you notice the color?" He tugged at his cheek skin.

  "Pale, like most Markans," replied Melden, immediately. "That is why this one stood out. Very pale hands, instead of amber, or jet."

  "Good lad." Sallis smiled. "Anything else you remember?"

  "The one in black maybe the same height as the girl," replied Melden. "Slender fingers. That is all."

  "Get a look at the face?" pressed Sallis.

  Melden shook his head and his earpoints twitched downward when he saw disappointment in Sallis's eyes.

  Sallis nodded and smiled again. "Thank you," he said, before turning his attention to the shop owner. "Your sylphs have been very useful," he told her, "and I'll interfere with their work no longer. But they deserve choca for their information."

  Both pairs of earpoints pricked upright at this.

  The shopowner sniffed. "I do not keep choca on the premises," she said.

  "Then if you will permit me." Sallis gave the owner no chance to answer as he presented the sylphs with the treats he had bought. "Eat them quickly," he whispered.

  He turned back to the shopowner before she could stop the sylphs enjoying their reward. "Thank you for your time," he told the woman. "I shall detain your sylphs no more."

  The sound of smacking lips from behind let him know the treats were now beyond recall or regret. He successfully masked his amusement as he left the shop and crossed directly to the alley.

  The only thing different about this alley was the lack of a low rise around the hole that led to the river. It had a wooden cover like the rest, but a couple of stones rested on that, probably to prevent the careless from kicking the lid free and falling in.

  Sallis took the stones away and lifted the cover.

  Exactly like all the others, with the sound of rushing water far below. He could see nothing out of place, perhaps unsurprising after so long since Kaira's disappearance.

  And yet... He had a feeling about this one, a vague sense of rightness, though he chided himself for foolishness. He always listened to his senses, a lesson learned long ago from a sylph named Lyssan. He knew these feelings were due to the mind interpreting whatever normal senses detected, even if unconsciously.

  There was nothing here to cause the feeling, yet he knew. Kaira had been lured here, killed, and dropped into the river.

  Time to visit the linesmen.

  ***

  Sallis wondered why he had never before given any thought to how water reached Marka, or to the equally important topic of taking waste water away again. Life on his farm had been simple, with an indoor water pump linked to a nearby stream, and an outhouse for disposing of waste. An outhouse that moved, as old pits got full, and his father had dug a new one, erecting a new outhouse above it. Of course, that was impossible in a city.

  Sallis had always known that a river supplied Marka's drinking water, and that the city had been built over the top of it. He had never given a second thought to how the drainage and sewerage worked. Perhaps the city's wealthy never needed to, and he reluctantly included himself among the ignorant.

  Any river that took away waste would have to be somewhere below the one that brought fresh water in, and of course keeping the rivers free from obstruction would be among the more important jobs in the city.

  Despite Grayar's direction that the Water Office lay next door to the main library, Sallis quickly realized why he had never heard of it before. Even standing right in front of the library, Sallis needed to ask for directions. The unassuming building had once been part of the library and the plaque outside had not seen polish for years, as dirt almost completely obscured the script.

  Sallis stepped inside to a vile smog of bacca smoke from half a dozen pipes. Even then, he needed to ask if he was in the right place.

  "This is the Water Office," a gray-eyed man confirmed. "And what can we do for you?"

  Sallis introduced himself. "I'm looking for a missing girl."

  "Missing eh?" The man's eyes held concern. "And if they've set you onto it, she's a dead 'un too."

  "I think so yes."

  The man smiled at his companions, sat around the room, some with papers in their hands, others sat quietly. "What's that do to with us?"

  "My suspicion is that she was dumped into the draining river. If that is so, how long before the body comes out again and where?"

  The man sucked air in over his teeth. "That all depends."

  "On what?"

  "Which river she got chucked into, how much water was in it at the time, whether or not she was dead before she hit the water."

  Sallis blinked. "Do you get many bodies?"

  Those gray eyes looked sad and the other men fell completely silent.

  "Now and then. Sometimes unwanted babes, sometimes a child falls in, or the desperate do away with themselves by jumping down the shafts."

  "Babies?" Not for the first time, Sallis despaired for his own race.

  "Not often mind."

  "Can you take me to where the river comes out?" asked Sallis.

  "Can do better for you than that." The gray-eyed man smiled. "I can take you along it." He stuck out a hand. "Name's Giddens, by the way."

  Sallis shook the proffered hand. "Give me an hour," he said.

  "I'll need that to get everything ready," said Giddens. "While you're gone, get something warm to wrap yourself in. And an oiled cloak. We might be gone a few days."

  ***

  In the library, Basren looked up from his work and nodded to Sallis. "You've found something?" He looked hopeful and reluctant all at once.

  "I'm working on it. But you're going to have to come with me."

  "Why?"

  "Unfortunately, I've got to follow up a lead and that involves me crawling around the draining rivers."

  "What do you need me for?" Basren's dark blue eyes looked worried.

  "I don't need you. But if the City Guard learn I'm no longer keeping an eye on you, they're bound to come and arrest you. If I hand you over to them, they're more likely to look after you properly."

  "What?"

  "Wish there was another way, Basren." Sallis grinned. "You're going to have to trust me."

  The young librarian wrung his hands together. "But the guard will lock me up! They'll –"

  "Whoa." Sallis lifted a hand. "The guard will probably assign a man to keep an eye on you. You can't come with me, because I'll probably be leaving the city. So we're going to the guard, where I'll explain where I'm off to and why you're their responsibility again."

  Basren sighed. "This is not what I had in mind when I asked you to find Kaira."

  "As I said, you're just going to have to trust me."

  ***

  Not having heard of them, Sallis had obviously never before seen linesmen at work. He gave Giddens and two of his men directions to the alley, sitting beside the leading linesman on the cart. He glanced quickly at the contents on the cart, eyeing with trepidation the thin craft that resembled a small boat with two bows. When they arrived at the alley, roughly a minute later, Sallis watched in respect as the three men set t
o work.

  The linesmen removed the wooden lid and carefully set it to one side. Three tree trunks, maybe three pacas long, were lashed together, each trunk forming a leg and all three meeting at the top. A rope was then tied to the small boat, followed by a rope ladder secured to a crossbeam placed across one side of the dark hole.

  "I'll go down first," said Giddens. "You follow when I reach the bottom."

  Sallis nodded and eyed the rope ladder warily. The rope was of one thick length, with wooden slats set through it. He had expected a sailor's rope ladder, with two lines of rope and the footpieces set between the two. After weighing it up, Sallis eventually decided he could climb down it.

  This one looked a lot more dangerous than a sailor's rope ladder.

  "You'll need this," said Giddens.

  Sallis blinked and watched as the other man secured a leather strap around his head. At the front, a light crystal glistened in the bright sunshine. Sallis secured his own in place, pleased to note the thickness of the leather between the crystal and where it would rest against his head. Light crystals left against unprotected skin usually burned. He watched as Giddens began his descent, the rope jerking this way and that as the man climbed down, step by step.

  Then came Sallis's turn.

  He grasped the crossbar and clung to it until he found the first slats with his feet. As he began to descend, his feet threatened to skid off the ladder with every step, until he finally caught the knack of balancing his weight. Gradually, the light from his crystal replaced natural sunlight, throwing wild shadows in all directions as the air grew dank and chill. He had expected a great stench from the waste thrown down here, but he smelled nothing wrong. The noise of the river grew louder and louder.

  "You're down!" Giddens shouted in his ear.

  Sallis found himself standing on a stone ledge, perhaps a single paca above the water that flowed steadily, throwing occasional spray as a submerged rock disturbed its passing. He felt a stab of panic as the rope ladder suddenly disappeared and he looked up, seeing a distant circle of light.

  "What's next?" Sallis shouted back.

  "They'll lower the boat. Be ready to steady it."

  The light far above darkened. The strange double-ended boat, with paddles, a net and two bedrolls securely lashed inside, slowly lowered.

  "Pull it onto the shelf," shouted Giddens. "We'll launch it later."

  Sallis helped Giddens pull the boat – thankfully weighing very little – onto the shelf and freed the rope. That disappeared quickly and, as Sallis looked up again, the circle of light abruptly winked out.

  He and Giddens were alone with the splashing river and dancing shadows cast by their light crystals.

  "We use the net for catching fish?" asked Sallis.

  "Sort of," replied Giddens. "Easier to recover corpses with a net than using your arms. When they've been in the water for a few weeks, the skin isn't, ah, attached very well."

  Sallis grimaced and changed the subject. "The boat doesn't look very stable," he remarked.

  "It isn't." Giddens nodded. "That's why we need to be careful."

  "What if someone drops stuff on us?"

  "Look around," Giddens shouted back. "There's nothing here, which means people up there don't throw to this side. We're safe."

  Sallis thought he heard laughter in the other man's voice. He left him to check the boat alone, while he looked around. The rocks were all smooth here, suggesting this route had been cut by the river.

  "What do we do if the water level suddenly increases?" he shouted.

  "We drown!" Giddens chortled at his joke.

  Sallis did not find the jape very funny. He had no intention of dying down here. He concentrated his attention on the reasons he was here, and tried not to think what might go wrong.

  He would find answers here.

  ***

  Zandra sat back in her easy chair with a sigh, kicked off her shoes and wriggled her bare toes. Snatches of song drifted through from the children's room, where Galenna had her charges singing rhymes.

  "Not joining in with that, Jenn?" Zandra regarded the infertile through one half closed eye.

  Jenn scowled and her earpoints twitched. "No," she replied. Her head turned a few moments before Zandra heard the padding of feet approach her room.

  Weyna pushed the door open with a foot and smiled uncertainly at its occupants, her dark blue eyes lighting.

  "The alovak, Mistress," she said, long delicate fingers curled around the edges of the tray.

  "On the table please, Weyna," said Zandra. "You can go, Jenn will pour. She'll only sulk, else."

  "Of course." Dark brown hair fell across Weyna's face as she leaned forward.

  Jenn watched the servant until she left them alone again. She stepped forward, inspected the contents of the alovak can, then poured it before stepping back.

  "Thank you, Jenn." Zandra sat straighter and picked the mug up, inhaling the alovak's aroma. "Care to explain why you're avoiding the singing, when before we could not keep you away from it?"

  "Because before it was Kaira," said Jenn, by way of explanation.

  Zandra sighed. "This silliness has gone on long enough." She put just enough of an edge in her voice for Jenn to detect the rebuke, but not enough to overstep the mark. After all, the sylph belonged to Marcus.

  Jenn pouted and her earpoints wilted. "I do not trust her," she muttered.

  "For Ranva's sake, why?" Zandra struggled to keep more than an edge from her tone. "She's very good with the children, they seem to like her well enough."

  Jenn shrugged. "Just a feeling."

  "I need more than that, Jenn." Zandra leaned forward and forced a smile. It was no good, Jenn had the same uncanny skill shared by most sylphs and saw through the ruse. The infertile leaned away and her lower lip trembled. "What do you think is wrong with her?"

  Another, smaller, shrug.

  "Jenn, I can't deal with this, unless you tell me what is wrong."

  The sylph stared at the rug, earpoints wilted completely. "I just think she is bad," she whispered. "Kaira-ya leaves with no reason, then Galenna just appears. I have a feeling."

  Zandra noted the lack of honorific for Galenna from the usually over polite infertile. "She answered a notice Marcus and I posted," she said. "Are you sure it's not just your usual resistance to anything new?"

  Jenn still stared at the rug, but she gave a tiny shake of her head. "Not that," she whispered.

  "You're being very silly." Zandra kept her chiding as gentle as possible. "You won't tell me what's wrong, so I must assume you're making it up. Do I need to speak to Marcus about your behavior?"

  Jenn's earpoints shot upright and her eyes met Zandra's calm gaze. "I am not making it up!" she almost shouted. "Galenna is bad; I do not know how I know."

  The infertile spun on her feet and stopped, her earpoints wilting again. Galenna stood in the doorway. Jenn blinked and looked down. Galenna looked at the infertile, her dark blue eyes calm, yet anger flared there.

  "Just to let you know I've finished with the children for the day," Galenna informed Zandra. "With your permission, I'll just run down to the palace library to prepare next week's lessons."

  The governess gave Jenn another cool look, ignored by the sylph as she flounced out of the room.

  "Of course." Zandra smiled, even though she felt the beginning of a headache. "Galenna?"

  About to leave, the governess turned.

  "Ignore Jenn," continued Zandra. "She was like this with me when I first came into Marcus's life."

  Galenna smiled back. "For the family's sake, I'll try my best," she promised.

  ***

  The assassin lay back on the bed, dark blue eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. Plans and ideas whirled, some worthy of more thought, most almost immediately rejected.

  Learn your target. That was the first rule.

  Marcus and Zandra; infant son, three daughters; that damned sylph. Possibly a couple of other unintended – but also un
lamented – victims.

  Plan of action. The second rule.

  The infant son and the two younger daughters always spent their day in the Vintner rooms. They would go first. Except for the infertile Jenn, the other Vintner sylphs spent their time in another room. That meant Eleka and her younglings, which the assassin discounted, unless they managed to get themselves into the wrong room at the wrong time.

  Either Zandra or Caralin would return next, Caralin being the oldest girl, now schooled formally. They never returned together, so the assassin could work one at a time, always the best way.

  Finally, murder spree's climax: the return of Marcus Vintner. Grief would turn to rage, and enraged men never thought clearly. The assassin felt unable to drag out the killings and avoid detection, so committing them all on the same day was wise.

  Even the infertile.

  The assassin really wanted to eliminate Jenn first. Marcus certainly seemed very attached to the creature and the assassin had wondered if the master-sylph relationship might not be a little too close. Even better if that was so, though no evidence for it had actually come to light.

  But Jenn's death depended on whether or not she stayed in with the younger children, attended Zandra while she met with her guildspeople, or clung to her owner while he spent his day chasing after the throne he coveted.

  But the damned sylph was the one to watch. She saw far too deeply, even by her race's already high standards. She did not trust easily and resisted change at every turn.

  Of them all, Jenn caused the assassin the greatest disquiet. Killing a sylph was easy enough; they drowned in their blood as quickly as humans once someone opened their throat, though simple asphyxiation took longer. Sometimes though, sylphs were more than they appeared. Some had been trained to protect their owners.

  Might Jenn be one such?

  The assassin had been unable to learn anything of Jenn's early days, for they had been spent in Calcan. Probably unlikely that the infertile had been trained this way: the assassin knew that Marcus and Jenn had been inseparable from an early age, so there would have been no time for proper training.

  But the sooner Jenn was removed from the game, the better. Just in case.

  Line of retreat. The third, final and most important rule, in case anything went wrong. Even if everything went well.

  Nobody would challenge the assassin in the palace. Two changes of clothing, all three sets identical and – so far – unworn. The assassin would not be out of place in the palace, indeed was already well known to most of the guards and recognized by the rest. Once away from the palace, the assassin would melt away in the crowd, change clothes yet again, and walk away from Marka before the gates closed for the night. Easy.