Markan Sword

  Lowst watched her go before he continued. "Let us assume that my men and Mirrin's merge into one large force. What, exactly, do you hope to achieve in Eldova?"

  "Why should I tell you that? You'll only try to stop me."

  "Perhaps."

  Kelanus arched an eyebrow.

  "I will not instigate a war against my own city," said Lowst. "As for who rules it..." He snapped his fingers and waved the same hand. "The people will not permit an outlander to rule them, or not for long. They've already seen the result of one regicide and I doubt if they are in any hurry to see another."

  "Hingast is already dead and they are ruled by an outsider."

  Lowst grimaced. "So you say."

  "The child is genuinely Hingast's though."

  "Meneda?"

  "The boy, yes." Kelanus smiled. "And he will need regents."

  "That might trigger our own civil war," pointed out Lowst. "From which Marka can profit."

  "I was thinking of Mirrin as regent. From far enough away to stand back from the internal politics in Eldova, yet close enough to be an insider. And I know he is a decent and honorable man, who'll raise Meneda to be a Prefect fit for your land."

  "What do you get out of it?" Lowst stared into Kelanus's pale blue eyes.

  "I see the man who has been my rival for a decade, who has twice seen me removed from my post, who has allowed the most evil rumors to circulate about me... I get to see that man dead."

  "All... right..." Lowst drew out the two words. "Let's assume you're wrong –"

  "I'm not wrong."

  "– and the man you tell me you're going to kill, is not the man you say he is. Let's assume that he really is Hingast."

  "Then I doubt I'll outlive Hingast for long. But whoever that is ruling your country, he's not Hingast."

  "I remain skeptical." Lowst smiled. "Even though Janost seems to have lost his love for Hingast and Mirrin certainly never had any."

  "And you?" Kelanus arched his eyebrow again.

  "The man's attitudes have certainly changed," said Lowst carefully, "and I'm suspicious of the reasons he wants so many of the returners from his own army turned away or killed, but he has ruled Eldova pretty well."

  "A lot of people have died thanks to Hingast," said Kelanus, "but that is a charge many of us can face. But Hingast has killed... gratuitously. The man hiding under his face kills for his own survival, unless you happen to be unfortunate enough to be a pretty male sylph."

  "Not heard him charged with that one." Lowst shook his head. "We'd have heard. Hingast certainly used to enjoy hunting sylphs, but I never realized he cared how pretty they were."

  Kelanus smiled.

  Lowst sniffed. "When we reach Eldova, I'll have to hand you over. After that, it's up to you."

  "Will you merge with Mirrin?" asked Kelanus.

  Lowst nodded. "So long as he's agreeable."

  "Good." Kelanus turned to look towards Eldova again.

  "One more thing," said Lowst. "This conversation never happened."

  Kelanus nodded. "Fine by me," he replied.

  ***

  Reaching the hilltop, Belaika dropped onto his haunches and wrapped his arms around his knees. A small smile turned his lips as he spotted Eldova's main city, a good day or two away.

  He stared at the city, the reason he had begged to come on this incursion. So long, yet his goal was now in sight. Somewhere inside those walls, he would finally learn the truth.

  Down there, he hoped to find redemption.

  As he stared at the city, Gajaran's words echoed inside his mind, words that had haunted his nightmares for almost a year. Words that even invaded his flying dreams.

  "You do what no sylph should. You direct men to death. Your enemies, your friends. Maybe even sylphs. You are an aberration, a devil. Evil."

  He wanted – and yet at the same time dreaded – an answer.

  ***

  Chapter 27

  Dragon's Head Banner

  Nazvasta Ulvic Vintner looked around at the Senate from the throne. Vintners had ruled here for more than two centuries. Unlike Marka, where the ruler – whether Emperor, Preceptor or Prefect – was banned from the city's Senate, provincial Prefects were supposed to preside over their own Senates.

  Sandester's Senate building was discreetly tucked away down an easily defended road. It held eighty-eight Senators, eleven from each Prefecture under Nazvasta's rule. There were plenty of side chambers, from where Senators and their minions conducted much of Sandester's daily political business. The main room, with its vaulted ceiling, impressed everybody, including Nazvasta, who had seen it many times before.

  Right now, the room could hold no more and faces stared expectantly down from the packed public gallery. They stared at him, as if they had known all along that the day would come when Nazvasta stood before them and made the announcement.

  Heylena sat on the throne beside him, with their son stood between them. Seven years old, Aelfra already believed himself a man.

  Marshal Mikhan, wearing his best uniform and carrying his baton, stood to Nazvasta's right, while Sandester's flag, blood red with its single horizontal gold stripe, flanked Heylena's throne. Fareen stood immediately in front of that, her earpoints twitching as she smiled around at the large room.

  Senators sat expectantly, all faces turned his way. But most fixed their gaze on the pale blue cloth folded neatly on Nazvasta's lap. Gradually, slowly, silence descended, after ushers shushed a noisy minority in the public gallery. Excitement clearly ruled the room.

  "It is rare for me to attend the Senate, except for formal occasions," began Nazvasta. "But today is an exception.

  A murmur quickly died.

  "Everybody knows my late brother awarded me my title as Steward before Marcus Vintner of Calcan forced him to renounce his claim. After Branad's death, Marcus decided our lands now belonged to him, and offered me the title of Viceroy, which of course I refused. We granted Emperor Zenepha our allegiance, not some other claimant to the throne.

  "As the empire rebuilds, each Prefecture represented here deserves to regain its rightful place within that empire, even if our eleven Prefectures decide to stay together, as some private empire within an empire. But that is up to us."

  Nods met his words.

  "News reached us some time ago calling into question the legitimacy of Marcus Vintner's line."

  An excited mutter ran through the assembly. Nazvasta noticed Fareen turn her head in his direction, but he ignored her pleased smile.

  "As I said, Sandester willingly pledged allegiance to Emperor Zenepha, and our promise stands. Sadly, the same cannot be said for Zenepha, whose position daily grows ever more precarious. I fully expect Marcus Vintner to take the throne and rule as a usurper."

  Silence. But the air almost crackled with expectation.

  "If and when that happens," continued Nazvasta, "Sandester will stand against the usurper and I will take the throne from him!"

  Nazvasta, hands on corners of the light blue cloth, abruptly stood and allowed that cloth to unfurl. Light blue, with a gold dragon's head emblazoned across it.

  "When Marcus takes the throne from Zenepha, we will again serve under the dragon's head banner!"

  Cheering met Nazvasta's words and Senators stood to applaud. Heylena turned and smiled at her husband, while Fareen nodded her approval. Aelfra stared wide-eyed at this outpouring of emotion and support, while a glint of satisfaction showed in Mikhan's deepset blue eyes.

  "And we will serve true justice. We will see our great empire rise again from the ashes of the old!"

  The cheering renewed, and Nazvasta allowed himself to bask in the adulation as minutes passed.

  "Remember the path ahead will not be easy," he cautioned them, as silence fell. "Marcus Vintner is no fool. He will try to break us, or tempt us to try and break him. We must proceed with caution: ready to repulse any attack and always pressing our claim forward. Sandester holds the key to our bright future!"

&nb
sp; Cheering resounded again, and Nazvasta hoped they remembered his warning. Fareen turned to congratulate him, leaning forward as she bowed before the throne.

  "You are doing the right thing," she told him. "The right thing."

  Nazvasta stared at her. "Each will give their obeisance," he told her. "Beginning with you."

  "You have no need to command it from me." Fareen's smile widened as she bowed her head.

  The Senators began to file past, each bowing his head, or dropping into a curtsey if a lady Senator. Nazvasta paid none of them any mind, planning for the future and dreaming of a throne he had believed forever out of his grasp.

  Sandester would take her rightful place in the histories.

  ***

  Elsin stayed away from the Senate. She suspected Heylena would resent her presence and felt certain the woman knew of Elsin's own interest in her husband. With luck, she also knew everything Elsin had told Kana.

  She smiled to herself as she imagined the reaction.

  She had continued to act as if she still intended to marry Nazvasta, opening discussions with two of Sandester's wealthiest families concerning her daughters by Branad. She even made some effort to keep the talks secret, though she prayed every day that at least Fareen had heard about them.

  All part of the game. Fareen could easily work out that if Elsin married her two daughters into those families, she would have access to, and possibly even partial control over, almost half the available wealth in Sandester.

  But she had her gaze fixed firmly on bigger plans. So long as Kana interpreted her stated intention to have children by Nazvasta as a threat.

  On the face of it, she could control so much of Sandester's wealth and have considerable influence over Nazvasta's heirs.

  Elsin had a suspicion that Nazvasta and Kana might well try to stop her, though she needed a lot of luck to successfully hoodwink the gwerin. They would want her out of the way, and Elsin knew exactly where she would like to go. And who to play for.

  She could build something much greater than anything Kana and probably Nazvasta imagined. Fareen might guess, but Elsin hoped the gwerin might regard her reserve plan as a possible advantage to herself.

  Sat on the ground immediately before her mistress, Millan leaned her head back and murmured appreciatively as Elsin curled an earpoint around one of her fingers, twisting her hand so the finger spiraled round and around the ear.

  "Has Fareen been asking many questions of late?" Elsin asked her sylph. "I happened to notice a small piece of choca had melted onto your tunic the other day."

  "I must have missed it," said Millan, as she twitched and trembled under the attention lavished on her earpoint.

  Elsin giggled. "Too late now," she said, "you laundered those clothes yesterday."

  "But Fareen has not asked too many questions," said Millan.

  Elsin did not doubt it. She fed her sylph even more choca whenever the infertile told her mistress everything Fareen had asked, and the answers she had given. Elsin had told the sylph to answer all questions honestly, knowing where the answers would end up.

  Unsurprisingly, Fareen had ignored her command to leave her sylph alone. Elsin had already known that, but she must be seen to go through the motions of trying to deny the gwerin the information she always craved. So Elsin happily fed whatever she wanted to reach Nazvasta's ears to her sylph. And whatever she wanted to reach Kana's ears now, apparently.

  Millan leaned further back, perhaps hoping to be invited up, but Elsin no longer allowed her sylph onto the furniture. Some of her visitors disliked the sinabra, and certainly had no wish to share seating with her sylph. So Millan now had to make do with a wooden stool, though she had been granted a plump cushion to make life considerably more comfortable.

  Elsin grimaced as she thought how few people truly understood sylphs. A natural secretion, the creatures' sinabra rarely overpowered and could not be confused with a lack of washing. But the prejudice was there, and Elsin must put up with it the same as Millan.

  "This head is further and further from the floor every day," remarked Elsin.

  Millan grinned and murmured in appreciation. "Perhaps one day I shall be as tall as Fareen," she said.

  "Or taller." Elsin resumed the earpoint stroking. Some infertiles gained considerable height, though such specimens were exceptional. "You might be lucky."

  Millan pulled a face and Elsin felt the strong ear muscles contract under her finger. "Not too tall," said the sylph.

  Elsin laughed. "I'm not one of those easily intimidated by height," she said, "and I know all sylphs serve well."

  Millan nodded.

  "And you serve better than most," continued Elsin. "You help me to confuse those who do not work in our best interests."

  "Ours?" Millan blinked.

  Elsin must remember her sylph still had too few years to understand everything. "The better things are for me, the better they are for you," she said. "I'm sure you have seen how so many other sylphs must work much harder for their keep. Some are forced to beg, some do not eat well, some are poorly dressed."

  Millan blinked and Elsin again felt the earpoint under her fingers try to wilt.

  "This is why I must remarry, and why I must find good matches for my daughters," continued Elsin. "Kana is also looking for good matches for her daughters, and Heylena is doing the same thing."

  "It is like a race," said Millan.

  "Yes." Elsin smiled, proud of her sylph's perception. "Very like a race. And the cleverest sylphs who are lucky enough to belong to those who win their races are usually very well rewarded indeed."

  "Lots of choca?"

  Elsin laughed. "If you like. Though when you're a little older you might think of other things you might want, as well as choca."

  "I live to serve," said Millan immediately. "And I will still serve, even if you lose your race."

  "Oh, Millan." Elsin's fingers moved faster around the earpoint. "From the moment I first saw you, I realized you were the right one. I'll tell you what I plan to do if Nazvasta marries me, as Kana has remained so silent after our chat. And yes, when Fareen comes to see you again, make sure you tell her everything."

  "If she asks," said Millan.

  "She'll ask," promised Elsin. "She will ask."

  ***

  Fareen wished she had held some information back from Kana.

  Not because she still sulked, though the arbitrary way in which she had been passed on to another spymaster still rankled, but because Kana had not shared all her information.

  She had spoken to Millan again, the young infertile telling the gwerin how much her mistress looked forward to marrying Nazvasta and having his babies. And when she told Kana...

  The woman already knew! Worse, she had heard from Elsin directly and Fareen knew nothing about it. Kana had told Nazvasta, and Nazvasta had agreed with Kana, that Elsin might be a threat. All sorts of nonsense about Elsin seizing the throne by murdering Nazvasta's other heirs, or even her new husband.

  Why were humans so blind?

  Millan had proved so informative – and insistent she pass the information on – that suspicions had surfaced in Fareen's mind. The sylph seemed too knowledgeable for her age. Sylphs, particularly infertile sylphs who did not have far to go, could mature with amazing rapidity, but if Elsin confided her plans in her sylph for the sake of it, then Fareen would give up advising – permanently.

  So either the youngster had a liking for choca far beyond that of even the greediest normal sylph, or Elsin fed information to her, knowing where it would end up.

  That meant Elsin had no intention of marrying Nazvasta, or at least doubted if she would ever be allowed to.

  Fareen had lived long enough to realize humans often overreached, especially while trying to be clever. It also made them very dangerous. But what was Elsin's real goal?

  Did she want Sandester? That ran counter to Fareen's own plans, which happened to mirror Nazvasta's. He intended Kana to rule Sandester once he had the
throne, for it then to pass to Verdin, the rightful heir anyway.

  Fareen grimaced. There must be an answer, and she began to wish the two widows had been left behind in Marka. She smiled. The perfect solution had just occurred to her and even Elsin could benefit.

  ***

  Marshal Mikhan had no idea why today's meeting was held in one of the small receiving rooms at the palace, rather than in the more usual War Room. Fareen attended with Nazvasta, though the gwerin appeared distracted or perhaps excited by something.

  One small polished table sat in the center of the blue-painted room, with several chairs arranged around it. Paintings on the walls were mostly of forest or farmland, and two windows let in most of the natural light. Those windows allowed glimpses of rooftops and white clouds scudding across a deep blue sky.

  The presence of Branad's widow Kana also gave him a moment's pause.

  Nazvasta opened the meeting. "I've brought Kana along," he began, "because she's going to replace me as spymaster."

  Mikhan turned his deepset blue eyes to Kana. "Congratulations," he said. "I hope we have a long and fruitful association."

  Kana smiled and inclined her head, though she said nothing.

  "Now," continued Nazvasta, "I understand our armies are now in place?"

  "They are." Mikhan nodded. "All the pigeons have returned. Paul has established a permanent camp in Maturia, with good watch posts to give good warning, and Indelgar reports all his sylphs are in position across the north."

  "And Drecan?"

  "Has reached Vertia." Mikhan smiled. "And passed on a suggestion."

  "Sounds good." Nazvasta leaned forward. "A new tactic?"

  "Something like that." Mikhan glanced down at his papers. "From the local mayor's son, apparently; Drecan insisted any reward for the idea goes to him. The lad has suggested we build a series of signal stations all over Sandester, each in sight of the next."

  "For communication?" asked Nazvasta.

  Mikhan nodded. "Using signal arms during the day. The lad suggested how we might use those. And he said to affix light crystals to those arms, so we can even signal to each other at night."

  "What do you think, Marshal?"

  "I think we should do it. Another soldier, some years ago now, suggested how we might communicate each other at a distance by using our arms to represent letters, but Branad felt we didn't have enough time to introduce it."

  Nazvasta stroked his chin. "How many signal stations will we need?"