Markan Sword

  Reshiad looked at the small hollow and nodded in approval. A stream ran through the middle, large enough to refill their bottles and water the horses. Sheltered on three sides by bushes, they were out of the wind and very private.

  "How did you know this was here?" he asked.

  "We didn't." Balnus pointed towards the road. "Neptarik left a patteran."

  "Where is he?"

  "Here," said Neptarik, standing upright.

  Tektu laughed at Reshiad's astonishment. Mya and Neptarik joined hands and sat to one side. Tektu went nowhere near her fellow sylphs after a warning glance from Mya, but stayed near Balnus. Verdin helped Reshiad feed and water the horses, before quickly checking their hooves.

  "What can I expect in Shelcar?" asked the boy, after dislodging a stone that threatened to work its way under one of Ercyan's shoes. The white mare continued to munch grass, completely ignoring the boy fiddling around, though she seemed pleased to set the hoof down again.

  "Your first followers." Verdin shrugged. "Assuming they'll have you."

  "They might not?" Reshiad lifted his eyebrows.

  "Considering you say you'll use your own name, they might decide to follow someone else."

  "The old Prefect's sons are both dead."

  Verdin nodded. "That won't stop someone from trying to claim to be one or other of them though," he replied. "Power is seductive and few can resist its lures."

  Reshiad looked away. "What does the Emperor expect from his Prefects?"

  "Not a lot and everything," replied Verdin. "Honesty and integrity. The courage to govern justly and fairly."

  "That takes courage?" Reshiad's voice almost squeaked.

  "Oh yes. Justness and fairness are not always easy. Not always nice either. Doing the right thing may mean taking the course of least evil and can still hurt some people. A land always has many factions and those factions all want to see their interests served. Steering a course between them often takes courage."

  "But Prefects command and others leap to obey."

  Verdin laughed. "If only that were so. A Prefect must keep on top of continuously shifting alliances and conflicting interests in his lands. He can either rule as a tyrant – always a dangerous choice – or as a diplomat. Either way, he needs supporters, and if he loses them all..." Verdin shrugged. "The life expectancy of a hated ruler is measured in days once he is deposed."

  "And you expect me to walk into that?"

  Verdin smiled and nodded. "Yes," he replied.

  ***

  Reshiad had heard Shelcar described as a town, but it looked very much as he always imagined a city to look. Perhaps five or six times larger than Merley, the town boasted stone walls and two gates flanked by imposing towers. Buildings of stone, rather than wood, stood within the walls, and roofs were tiled rather than thatched.

  He tried to look smaller when he spotted soldiers stood at the gate, but they paid his small group no more mind than anybody else. Even Neptarik, who had wrapped himself in a brown cloak to hide his painted body, received no more than a glance.

  The main street, easily the widest in the town, bisected Shelcar east to west. Despite its width, there was barely enough room to ride two abreast. A stinking ditch ran down the center of the street and Reshiad tried not to look too closely at the contents.

  "It's filthy here!" he exclaimed to Verdin.

  "Most towns are," replied Verdin.

  People crowded everywhere, all wrapped in their own thoughts and about their own business. Sylphs darted through the throng, trying to get their errands finished as quickly as possible, so they could then return to whatever they really wanted to be doing.

  What appeared to be bundles of rags piled in some doorways shocked Reshiad once he realized what they really were. People and sylphs, stretching grimy hands towards him as they begged for alms. He tried to avoid their expectant gazes.

  "Why do they live like that?" he demanded.

  Balnus shrugged. "There are always a few," he replied. "Probably with as many reasons as there are beggars." He nodded towards a ragged male sylph. "Those are often sent out by their owners as an easy way of collecting more cash." He waved a hand in the general direction of a couple more sylphs. "And any surplus infertiles are always the first to be kicked out onto the streets when hard times come. Always."

  "Disgusting," breathed Reshiad.

  "This way," said Verdin, indicating a narrower street.

  This street was quieter, if no cleaner, with fewer beggars.

  "Is the City like this?" asked Reshiad.

  "Turivkan? No; the Administrator there keeps things very tidy. This is a poorly-run town, which makes it ideal for us." Verdin smiled. "Nobody pays us any mind, except the beggars."

  "Here we are," announced Balnus. "Nep!"

  The cloaked Neptarik disappeared down a side alley, returning moments later to report deserted alleys and no soldiers waiting for them.

  Reshiad followed Balnus and Verdin to a large wooden gate that Verdin rattled. A moment later, a small square of wood opened.

  "We are Glayen's expected guests," said Balnus.

  The small opening slammed shut.

  "Charming," muttered Reshiad.

  "Shush!" cautioned Verdin.

  Minutes passed before the square of wood opened again.

  "Ah, Balnus!" exclaimed a new voice. The opening closed with less force and a moment later, the gate swung inwards.

  Reshiad looked about as he entered the yard. Stables stood to one side, with two boys and four sylphs staring at the newcomers. Two men stood there, one armed with a sword and the other beaming a welcome.

  The less dangerous looking man nodded. "Welcome to you all. My home is yours and my servants are at your command." His eyes flickered to Reshiad more than once.

  "Thank you Glayen, but we only wish for hot baths and a couple of rooms." Balnus swung out of his saddle and handed his reins to one of the boys.

  Reshiad was pleased to get his feet on the ground again and stretched after dismounting. "I expected another inn," he said.

  "Glayen's a friend and calls this place home," replied Verdin. "Being the main merchant here means he controls quite a bit of the trade coming through. And information comes with trade. He's also with us."

  "You said I would meet one of the military commanders here," said Reshiad.

  "And so you shall." Verdin smiled again. "After you."

  Reshiad entered the house and stared. Light crystals provided all illumination, uncovered even at this time of the day thanks to the dark oak lining all four walls. An even darker wood formed the floor, though a scrap of rug here and there provided some color. Pictures lined the walls, most fanciful depictions of country life.

  Sinabra hung in the air and, once his eyes adjusted, Reshiad saw why.

  A good two dozen sylphs polished the wood and all paused in their work to stare at the newcomers. A few made eyes at Neptarik, earpoints coming fully erect, but the scout ignored them as he headed upstairs, muttering something about being married now, if Reshiad had properly understood his spoken sylph.

  "You seem to know your way around quite well," remarked Reshiad.

  "We've been here before," replied Balnus.

  "This way," invited Glayen. "I have the same rooms for you."

  More sylphs polished the wood lining the stairs.

  "Who needs this many sylphs?" asked Reshiad. "I've never seen so many in one house."

  "They aren't all mine," replied Glayen. He gave Reshiad another respectful glance. "They are here for safekeeping, but they must earn that keep."

  When they reached a long corridor, Glayen pushed a door open. "I will let you know when the baths are ready," he promised.

  Verdin paused outside the door with Glayen and Reshiad hovered, trying to listen. Neptarik shut the door and smiled at the boy.

  "Go and claim a bed," he suggested.

  "I've had enough of all the mystery," growled Reshiad. "I want answers."

  "You will hav
e answers soon enough." The sylph smiled again. "After we have enjoyed a relaxing bath."

  Reshiad eyed the scout. "We all need one of those," he admitted, before turning away. He lugged his small pack across the room and took the bed nearest the window. He sat at one end, looking across rooftops.

  "Rooms comfortable enough?" asked Balnus, making conversation.

  Reshiad nodded and forced a smile. "I would like to know what's going on." He jerked a thumb towards Neptarik, who sat holding Mya's hand and whispering something to her. Tektu had gone through to the other room with Verdin. "Your sylph scout is determined to stop me from finding out."

  Balnus looked at his sylphs for a moment before turning his full attention to Reshiad. "He's just doing his job, keeping eavesdroppers away. You're not missing much, honestly."

  "How long will these baths be?"

  Balnus winked. "Just as soon as they can haul enough hot water to fill the tubs. Maybe an hour or more."

  Verdin soon entered the room and nodded to Neptarik and Mya. The two sylphs disappeared into the other room. A moment later, Tektu reappeared and settled down beside the door.

  "What's going on there?" asked Reshiad.

  "Sylph foolishness," replied Balnus. "Mya does not like Tektu."

  "She's not the most likeable sylph I ever met."

  "Perhaps not."

  "Do you know why Mya feels the way she does?"

  Balnus's dark blue eyes were expressionless. "That is her business, not yours."

  "Fair enough." Reshiad spread his hands in surrender. "And what is it with Tektu? Something very strange about her, too."

  "That's none of your business either." Balnus took the edge off his words with a laugh. "You really don't want to know."

  Reshiad glanced across at Tektu again, but she had raised her head to stare directly at him. She actually frightened him, meeting his gaze without even flinching. No ordinary sylph. He broke eye contact first.

  When a small sylph tapped at their door to announce the baths were ready, Reshiad was surprised when the three sylphs followed them downstairs.

  Twelve wooden tubs and a stone washing area surrounded a large fire, stood within an annex to the main house. Several sylphs padded about, offering cakes of soap and pitchers of warm water. Reshiad paused but, seeing his companions stripping off with no sign of shyness, copied their lead.

  He poured two pitchers of water over his head, followed by a good soap down, paying attention to all crevices where grime had a habit of collecting. He intended to enjoy his first bath since his wetting in the Foam Race River.

  Neptarik scrubbed himself hard to remove his paint, with Mya helping scrape it off his back. His breeches had covered the only part of him not painted. This part, once the paint was off the rest of him, was considerably paler. The scout soaped and rinsed himself three times before fully satisfied with the result.

  Once free from the worst of the dirt, they eased into the tubs. The water, Reshiad soon discovered, was better than warm. He could not help but sigh as he relaxed in the water.

  "I have missed hot baths," announced Tektu, before sinking out of sight for a few moments. She sighed when her head broke the surface. "They are so backward in Marka."

  After a good long soak, the serving sylphs returned with warm towels, a couple grinning to each other as they watched Neptarik haul himself from his tub. He eyed them back until Mya stepped beside him. The male sylph showed no hint of embarrassment, but the watchers blushed. Their earpoints wilted submissively and eyes lowered. When Tektu glared at them, they fled. Neptarik grinned before drying himself.

  Reshiad almost laughed. He would never understand the strange mix of boldness and shyness breeder sylphs displayed to each other.

  Reshiad dried before dressing in his clean clothes. The same sylphs had taken the old clothes for washing, though the boy noticed they left Neptarik's breeches behind. He pulled his best shirt on over his head and stamped his feet into his boots, before lacing up the shirt.

  Balnus and Verdin also donned white shirts and dark breeches, while Mya and Tektu pulled on tunics and leggings. Neptarik wore a woolen shirt and breeches, together with a leather collar. Mya wore a silver collar, while Tektu wore no collar at all.

  "Before we eat," began Verdin, "I'll see if the other guests have arrived."

  "This military commander you want me to meet?" asked Reshiad.

  Verdin smiled. "That's right."

  "Come on," said Balnus. "Let's leave this for the sylphs to sort out. We'll go and wait in our rooms."

  They did not wait long. Reshiad was just about to slip his boots off when Verdin returned.

  "They are here," he said. "Coming?"

  "I'll stay here," said Balnus.

  "Us too," said Neptarik, holding Mya's hand again.

  Tektu looked to be asleep, so she wasn't moving either.

  So just Verdin and Reshiad left the room and walked along the corridor to another door. Reshiad felt nervous for some reason. What would he have to say to a military commander?

  Verdin tapped at the door and, at a rumble from within, pushed it open.

  Reshiad stared. A simple table with two chairs. A man had stood from one: a tall, hard looking man, with a lined face, brown eyes and light brown hair.

  A girl occupied the other chair. A little younger than himself, with hair and eyes the same color as his own. Tall and slender, a long pale dress highlighted her delicate appearance. Reshiad had no doubt he looked at a highborn lady, her beautiful face and pleasant smile aimed his way.

  Verdin made introductions. "Reshiad, please meet Erard Lennis Stenner, and Serifa. This young man, who insists on using his real name, is Reshiad Wajrun Helzar."

  Erard glanced at his companion before nodding to Reshiad.

  "It is foolish to use your real name," said Serifa, after a short pause.

  Reshiad hoped she didn't mind him looking. Her musical voice was delightfully soft. Only one name suggested she might be some sort of slave. Though rare, human slavery existed in Turivkan, if usually of outlanders. This girl had a local appearance.

  "If I'm to have revenge, I want the Prefect to know who's coming," he replied.

  Serifa's smile lit up her face, but Reshiad hoped no mockery lurked under the surface. It seemed a genuine smile.

  Erard snorted. "The Prefect won't have heard of you."

  "He will have," retorted Reshiad. "In one day, my family got murdered, I was chased by dogs, almost drowned and beaten up by some wild creature that looks like a sylph but isn't... I want revenge."

  "You were beaten up by a sylph?" Serifa lifted one delicate eyebrow, perfectly plucked into a narrow line.

  "He met Tektu," said Verdin.

  Serifa nodded. Ranva's breath, but she even made that look beautiful!

  "That explains much," she said quietly.

  "Anyway," said Reshiad, stepping forward and offering Erard his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you. I assume you are the General I've come to meet?"

  For the first time, Erard smiled and shook the boy's hand in a crushing grip. "Just a bodyguard," he replied. "Serifa's the military commander."

  Beside him, Verdin chuckled. "Balnus did say it would be a surprise," he said.

  ***

  Chapter 3

  In The West

  The ilvenworld is full of oddities. Like here, a land with no people.

  Of course, lots of lands have no people, but such places are usually natural. Dense forests and frozen wastelands are rarely seething masses of humanity. The casual observer might feel the sights here are also natural: long, still growing grass waving in the gentle breeze, and early spring wildflowers providing splashes of color. Everything the same, as far as the eye can see in all directions.

  There is a road, made from packed earth and rutted by the passage of caravans. Nothing remarkable in that, if people choose not to live in a place, it doesn't mean they never pass through. There is also a small row of borderstones, proof of some human interest in this land
.

  But the trees dotted about, a few in copses, are all less than a decade old, and should our casual observer decide to take a closer look at the grass waving in the wind, familiar agricultural plants such as oat, barley and wheat would reveal themselves. Food crops allowed to grow wild. Which meant this land was not unpopulated, but depopulated.

  And further east, if that observer cared to look, lay land spoiled by quick-growing softwood trees that would usually only be seen at much higher latitudes, altering the soil's acidity and making it useless for growing crops. A land deliberately wasted.

  Sad, but nothing particularly strange about that, either. People fight wars and are rarely pleasant to the losers.

  The oddity here is not the land, but four wagons. Ordinary canvas covered carts, each with two tethered horses. The animals are eating peaceably and waiting for the heavy work to begin again. The nosy observer might move closer to the carts before realizing the canvas hides cages, each locked and faced with wood, so nobody can see what's inside.

  Perhaps these are not the real oddity, either. After all, there are plenty of carts to be found near roads, and they are usually pulled by either horses or oxen. But carts also have people.

  There is nobody here.

  Until...

  The air shimmers and a group of fifteen people, six on horseback, materialize from nowhere. Well, nine of the fifteen are people; the other six are sylphs, earpoints slightly wilted, now busy rubbing their arms and staring at each other with wide eyes. Five of those sylphs have a surreal appearance, painted gray, green and brown, all with black slashes across face and chest. The only normal thing about the painted sylphs is that all wear black leather collars.

  The fear they display is natural, as no sylph enjoys having the Gift used within sensing distance. No matter how important their task.

  ***

  A silver-haired old man stared at the small group of soldiers and sylphs with piercing blue eyes, before nodding grumpily to Tahena. He glanced at the wagons, two carrying food and water, the others swords and equipment. A grimace twisted his mouth. He understood necessity, but he had not liked moving those weapons. Precepts might only be guidelines, but they existed for a reason.

  Despite appearances, Grayar was never as grumpy as he pretended.

  "You are a very persuasive man," Grayar told General Kelanus, the man in command, "but do not call on my services for anything like this again."

  Kelanus, still mounted, looked down at Grayar and inclined his head, his pale blue eyes expressionless. "Sandev refused to help, with her... foci."