Markan Sword

  Enthan Vintner, ruler of the distant Imperial Republic (where, Zenepha had been repeatedly assured, humans were not exactly kind to their sylphs), sent an occasional letter pressing his claim, but clearly had no intention of traveling north to enforce it. Besides, intelligence suggested Enthan had problems of his own.

  The faction that supported Hingast had pretty much disappeared, but they preferred to see the sylph hold the throne, rather than to see it pass to any other claimant. Zenepha wondered how they might cope once he died, childless.

  And Nazvasta Vintner, avowedly loyal, but who had recalled all the Sandesterans. He had laid no claim to the throne and Zenepha doubted one would come for as long as he retained his position. But the sylph knew that once he stepped down, Nazvasta would denounce the new Emperor and take up arms against him.

  The empire would not grow further for as long as a sylph held the throne, and might well immediately shrink if that sylph stood down. Now there was a pretty mess.

  And the thing concerning Marcus's legitimacy. Someone had stolen that document and most likely destroyed it, with the aim of causing mischief. The secret concord had been drafted for a specific reason, concerning a specific situation at a specific time. Senator Panan was quite right to table a motion to abolish it.

  But nobody rushed forward to back that motion; at least, not while Marcus Vintner remained a claimant. Zenepha did not understand. The people wanted an Emperor and had begun to realize Zenepha could be no substitute for the real thing. They wanted a human.

  Perhaps ordinary folk could not care less who governed them, only that they were ruled fairly and justly. A big ask perhaps, but Zenepha knew Marcus would be ideal as Emperor.

  The Senators, some of whom might feel their own interests threatened under Marcus's rule, saw things very differently.

  But Zenepha was sick of it.

  At first excited to be ruler of so many humans, the thrill had worn off months and months ago. Ruler and servant of his people, Zenepha knew he was beginning to flounder. The siege had proved to be his high point, despite knowing nothing about war. A happy ignorance, in his opinion. The Re Taura business had undermined his authority in some eyes, especially with the old enemy still stamping up and down the Western March.

  The threat from Re Taura had also fooled Silmarila, but she was a mere advisor, not the ruler.

  Well, that was all done with now. Zenepha had expected the chop to come quickly after that small debacle, and Marcus Vintner must be bitterly disappointed that only his unpopularity with so many Senators now kept the sylph on the throne.

  For that matter, Zenepha shared the sentiment.

  The people would follow Marcus Vintner. The Supreme Council had never recommended anyone else since inviting Marcus and Branad to Marka almost three years ago.

  Only the Senate caused problems. The Council recommended, the senate decided. And the Senate had decided to reject Marcus Vintner.

  Except...

  Except that this only held good when there was no Emperor on the throne. He might only be a caretaker, but he held the throne. The thing was his to –

  A smile spread across Zenepha's face as he remembered. Rogort, during a meeting. The sylph could picture Rogort's face as he spoke.

  "Whoever he wishes," he muttered. "That is what you said."

  In that moment, Zenepha knew he had set a new course and the decision was made.

  ***

  Walking to the library, Basren knew a guardsman followed. One always shadowed him, though most gave him no more than a neutral glance. Some looked at him as if looking for an excuse to arrest him, his guilt already decided.

  Sallis had been gone for little more than a day, yet it seemed an eternity since the man's presence reassured him. Despite what he had said about Kaira.

  Basren still prayed that she would turn up alive, having been kept against her will, or perhaps recovering after an accident of some sort. Such things happened. But, as time passed, the belief had faded to hope.

  And under the hope, a small voice told him the cold truth.

  That Kaira was dead might well be the truth, but her death had nothing to do with him. His fellow librarians all knew that Basren was the only suspect in the guard's eyes.

  "Not with us today?" asked the head librarian, a smiling man of great age. Irard Fassen di Maaren's name alone marked him as an outsider, even without his pale brown eyes and hair so blond that nobody knew if any of it had gone white.

  "Sorry," replied Basren. "Thinking."

  "Thinking or brooding?" Irard sniffed. "One is good, the other a waste of time."

  "I'm wondering where Sallis has got to." Basren had not forgotten Irard had initially pointed him in the right direction to find the bounty hunter.

  "You can rely on him to be doing everything he can," promised Irard.

  "You've used him in the past?"

  "Several times. And he's never let us down. If anything can be done for your poor friend, Sallis is the one to do it."

  Basren looked up into the gaunt, lined face, the older man's eyes glittering in paternalistic concern. "Do you think I did it?" he asked.

  "Remember that people are often prepared to believe the worst of others," replied Irard. "Always. General Kelanus has learned that particular lesson. For me, I'm swayed by the fact you asked for Sallis ti Ath to find Kaira. Because if you are guilty of anything, he'll uncover it and take you to the guard himself." Irard smiled. "I don't think you're that stupid."

  Basren blinked. "Neither do I," he replied. "But I wish he'd hurry up and catch whoever did take her." Yes, whoever took her. She was locked away and not lying dead somewhere. Someone had taken her and everything would be all right. Soon.

  ***

  "What's that noise?" asked Sallis.

  "Rapids," replied Giddens. "Not too bad, thank Ranva, but we've got to get past them in the boat. After that, I know somewhere we can get our heads down."

  By following the light from the crystal strapped to his head, Sallis saw that the way cut by the river narrowed, speeding up the water. Probably thanks to different rock, or something.

  Up ahead, Sallis saw white, rather than black, water.

  "Hold tight!" called Giddens. "And keep your hands inside the boat!"

  Sallis obeyed and silently prayed to the Father as their small boat suddenly lurched, scraped over a submerged rock, and flew down a small rapid.

  Giddens knew what he was about however, and skillfully paddled the boat around the worst of it, aiming for the darker parts of the water, in places only just wide enough for the boat to fit.

  No wonder the linesmen used boats like these, rather than something like a coracle, that would at least be more stable.

  One final lurch, and they were through.

  "Told you they weren't too bad," called Giddens. "Wait until the water level drops; sometimes we have to get out and carry the boat over."

  Sallis nodded. "Where are we sleeping?"

  Giddens pointed with his paddle. "Over there," he said, already guiding the boat towards a quieter part of the river.

  Over there turned out to be a series of rock ledges. They pulled the boat out of the water onto the first ledge, Giddens still insisting on securing a rope around a rock spike. He stepped up to the ledge above and spread out his bedroll.

  "And if it rains during the night?" asked Sallis, who doubted he could sleep over the noise of the river.

  Giddens shrugged. "We're in the dry season," he replied. "The water level will only go down at this time of year. But the boat is secure, just in case."

  "What about us?"

  "The water never gets this high except in winter." Giddens smiled. "But if you're asleep, you'll probably never know what's happened."

  "Not very helpful," replied Sallis. "I'm hoping for another sixty or seventy years yet."

  "May your wish be granted," said Giddens. "At least until tomorrow or the day after."

  Sallis chewed on the dried meat that his companion passed acros
s. "I'm surprised we haven't found anything," he said.

  "Me too. When they drown, they usually fetch up pretty close to where they went in. But like I said, if she went in with her lungs full of air, she might fetch up anywheres. If she's here at all."

  "She's here," growled Sallis. And what Giddens said about the dead fetching up only reinforced his belief that Kaira was dead before she hit the water.

  Even so, Sallis knew he was not infallible. He had only used logic and a single witness report to work out the most likely place Kaira might have met her doom. The sylph Melden had seen two people enter the alley, one of whom might have been Kaira.

  But another question nagged at Sallis. Why did someone want the Vintners' governess dead at all? He had pretty much ruled out the Vintners and Basren, and he found little evidence that Kaira knew that many more people well. It looked a lot like a planned attack, rather than a random murder of an innocent in the wrong place.

  If he ruled out Kaira's murder as the end in its own right, then it must be the means to an end. Perhaps the Vintners were the target and removing Kaira had created a vacancy – for someone to bring them harm?

  These questions turning over in his mind drowned out the sound of rushing water and Sallis quickly fell asleep thinking...

  ...only to wake after what seemed to be minutes.

  "Morning," said Giddens, who had poked Sallis with a foot. "Sleep well?"

  "Only just closed my eyes," said Sallis.

  "Could hear you snoring over the river," complained Giddens. "Last of the water and dried fruit for breakfast."

  Sallis sat up and pushed his blanket aside. They could hardly lift water from a river used as a sewer, so they'd brought every drop of drinking water with them. He missed his alovak and suspected he might get a headache from the thirst brought on by an insufficient supply of his favorite drink.

  The light crystals threw shadows across the black water and Sallis gave their boat a resentful look. He'd survived so far and he supposed today could be no worse. According to Giddens, the worst now lay behind them.

  Sallis still looked around, expecting to find something at any moment. And up ahead, he spotted something different, a line of light in their path. At first he thought his eyes played tricks – as human eyes often did in near total darkness – but he eventually looked over his shoulder.

  "Is that daylight?" he asked.

  "It is," replied Giddens. "We're nearly out and, with luck, one of the lads will be there with a cart and horse."

  As Sallis turned back, his light crystal shone across something definitely out of place and he pointed.

  "In the eddy," he said quietly. "Over there."

  ***

  Having reached his decision, Zenepha spent a restless night, much to Selkina's worry. After breakfasting on oatmeal spiced with dried fruit, he called for his guard.

  Zenepha kissed Selkina goodbye for the day and, with four black-cloaked shadow riders as escort, left their apartment. Armor and weapons jingled as the shadow riders trotted alongside the Emperor as he descended the palace stairs at a near run.

  Outside, they turned a corner and, with people staring at the small procession in surprise, crossed Senate Square. The Riders fanned out as Zenepha entered the coronation building and walked the short distance to Olista's rooms.

  There, a surprised Melda rose to her feet.

  "Is he in?" asked Zenepha, smiling at the secretary.

  "You are early," replied Melda, "but he's in his office." She nodded them through and Zenepha entered Olista's inner study.

  "Are all the High Councilors in the building?" asked the Emperor, without even exchanging pleasantries. His earpoints slanted forwards in determination and his mouth set in a thin line.

  "If they aren't already, they will be soon," replied Olista.

  "Escort me to Coronation Hall," commanded Zenepha. "When all Councilors are present, summon the Senate."

  "This is quite irregular," protested Olista. "You –"

  "Please?"

  Olista sighed. "I'll go and ensure everybody is in place," he said. "When they are, I'll come and escort you into Coronation Hall. And then you can summon the Senate. Don't wait here until the Senators are present before you enter, or you'll cause confusion." He blinked at his erstwhile sylph. "If this is what I suspect it is."

  "I expect my announcement will cause confusion anyway," replied Zenepha.

  Melda offered water, which the Emperor accepted, and made alovak for the shadow riders. Time passed.

  And passed.

  Olista eventually returned. "All Councilors are in Coronation Hall." He gave Zenepha a concerned look. "Sure you want to do this?"

  Zenepha nodded. "Certain."

  Still flanked by the shadow riders, Zenepha followed Olista along half-familiar corridors and into Coronation Hall.

  "Gentlemen!" called Olista. "By the Father's grace: His Majesty, Emperor Zenepha."

  The sylph stepped forward. The last time he had been in here, he had heard the claims and counterclaims of Kelanus and Ranallic. The time before, Hingast had held a knife to his throat. And before that, the first time he had ever come in here, was to take the throne and receive his crown.

  Today would probably be the last time ever. He stood before the throne, turned and sat. Councilors followed his example. Zenepha leaned back in the large chair and rested his hands in his lap.

  "Supreme Councilor," he called, in his clear, high voice. "Summon the Senate."

  As muttering broke out among the Councilors, Olista inclined his head, reached for his staff, and left the chamber.

  Flanked by his shadow riders, Zenepha let his eyes glaze over and ignored the calls from the floor. When the doors opened again, Olista led Senators inside. The Emperor waited for them all to enter and for the large doors to be shut again, before he spoke.

  "High Councilors and Senators," began the sylph, "for the past two years, we have been through rather a lot together. Siege, warfare, invasion. We have seen Marka's fortunes rise and her lands expand."

  He could see the faces of those listening to every word. An expectant hush crackled in the air.

  "We have heard so many arguments why this claimant or that claimant cannot take the throne. I will end all discussion on this subject today. I claim the ancient right of rulers to name his successor."

  A horrified mutter ran around the assembly.

  "This right is rarely exercised as the line of succession is usually clear, but as I have and will have no children, there is little option. Events of the past twelve months or so have convinced me of one, inviolate fact. An empire of humans must be ruled and governed by humans. Not a sylph."

  The cleverest of those present realized what was about to happen. Councilors and Senators jumped to their feet, waving order papers and calling out in confusion. Zenepha did not see who started it, but a single word, shouted out, caught on and swelled to a furious crescendo.

  "No! No! No!"

  Olista banged his staff on the ground, but few paid him any heed.

  "This is why," shouted Zenepha, "I am abdicating the Markan Throne –"

  "No, no, no!"

  "– in favor of –"

  "No, no, no!"

  "– Marcus Marcus Vintner."

  ***

  Rumor is part of life in any city. Those who had seen the Emperor walk from palace to coronation building immediately knew something was going on. For as many people who had seen the small procession, there were as many rumors, spreading through the streets like wildfire in an arid forest.

  The Eldovans had returned and would lay siege to the city again. No, Eldova had surrendered and submitted to Marka's rule. Sandester had declared rebellion. No, Sandester had succeeded to the throne. The Imperial Republic had declared war. No, the Imperial Republic had taken more territory in the far south of the continent. Perhaps more Prefectures had returned to the fold, or sent letters of defiance.

  Slowly, gradually, crowds gathered outside the coronation bui
lding and an expectant buzz stirred the watchers. Soon, messengers and runners left the building, sent on various errands. Before long, messenger birds circled high into the sky, carrying the news to the furthest corners of the empire, and even beyond. Some of the human messengers were intercepted and questioned by men in the crowd, before being sent on their way again.

  And the people learned the truth.

  It spread, a whisper at first, but growing louder and louder as the minutes passed. Workers laid down their tools, sylphs ceased their tasks, and all followed their employers and owners onto the streets.

  Marka had a new Emperor.

  ***

  Chapter 29

  Rebellion

  Reshiad looked around the circle of faces at the Red Ivy Tower. Only Ozbon from the Shelcar group attended, though Serifa and Verdin flanked him. Perhaps because this happened to be the only group from the rebellion he knew, Reshiad felt he could trust the green-eyed battle leader.

  Including Ozbon, a representative from each city attended the meeting. Three were women, which no longer surprised him. Goff, from Rissan, was easily the oldest and Stellan, from Lyang, the youngest. All wore simple woolen clothes and none would look out of place on a farm, though a few men here had some wealth.

  And all looked up to him. Reshiad worried what might happen when they eventually found out he and Adelbard Haist were not even related.

  "Albansen's group will rise within the city," said Reshaid, "seizing the main gate and market squares."

  Albansen, leader of the Turivkan Section, nodded.

  "Shenzen, Modden and Elvaran: your people will fill the square outside the palace and prevent anyone from leaving. Ensure you have your shields, I expect Dervra's men will try to fight their way out using crossbows and longbows."

  "Do we return fire?" asked Shenzen, one of the female leaders. If not for scarring down one side of her face, she would be pretty.

  "Only if absolutely necessary," said Reshiad. "We do not want to weaken Turivkan, only replace the Prefect."

  "What about the rest of us?" asked Smithsen, from Anbury.

  "Ronard, Stellan, Fenrock and Goff will follow the other groups inside the city. Ronard: you reinforce the main gate; Stellan and Fenrock add your weight to the men already in the squares and Goff those outside the palace. Jenneta and Sendra: you will assault the palace."

  "And what about the sorcerers who are there?" asked Jenneta, another of the female leaders. This one was sturdily handsome.