Markan Throne

  ***

  Grayar bowed to Caya, much to her surprise. "Is your mistress home?"

  The sylph nodded and held the door open for him to step inside. Her eyes widened as Salu followed, the smaller sylph smiling uncertainly at her. Caya led the visitors into a receiving room with a high ceiling and a plethora of paintings.

  "I will bring anya."

  "Thank you."

  Grayar inspected one of the paintings and admired its beauty. He knew it must be very old, perhaps two hundred years or so, but the superb depiction of a forest glade looked much better than the primitive art churned out at home. Salu crouched on her heels, waiting. She had received her instructions.

  "Good afternoon, Grayar." Sandev's sapphire eyes sparkled as she entered the room.

  Grayar returned the greeting. He looked curiously into her face; she seemed tired for some reason. "I need to speak with you." His keen blue gaze flickered briefly to Caya, who had followed her mistress into the room. "Alone."

  Sandev raised an eyebrow and glanced at Salu questioningly.

  "My sylph has a few questions to ask Caya. You know, cleaning this or that, a 'how do I do this?' sort of thing." He grinned.

  Sandev nodded to Caya. Salu rose and left the room with the other sylph. "All right, Grayar, what's bothering you?"

  "Nicolfer is in town."

  Sandev's face paled. "In the city? Oh, by Siranva, I knew she wouldn't be far from Dervra, but not that she might be here!"

  Satisfied, Grayar nodded. He knew Sandev's reactions intimately. She was not lying now. And for her to use the Father's name quite so openly...

  "I felt sorcery," he said, eventually. "Not just any sorcery, but enough power to do almost anything. There are only two who have had time to develop their skills to such a level, and one of them is outside the city with Hingast."

  "I've not felt it, but I rarely wander around the city." Sandev shook her head. "My routes must be well known to her."

  "If we add Nicolfer to those you already know about, we must move quickly to discover what they plan to do. But what of those about whom we know nothing?"

  Sandev sighed. "I have suspicions regarding several Senators and High Councilors, but no proof. No real evidence either, so I might be wrong."

  "Trust your instincts. Give me names; I'll use them to discover where our known enemies might have gone to ground."

  "They could be anywhere." Sandev gestured helplessly. "It's a big city and easy for a man – for several men – to hide until they want to emerge again. Even easier for someone like Nicolfer."

  Grayar gave a tight smile. "I've set a scout to hunt for Nicolfer and report when he finds her. Belaika knows what sorcery feels like when he senses it."

  Sandev's eyebrows lifted. "Is that wise? If she captures him... I do not doubt his courage, but he is only a sylph."

  Grayar snorted. "Sylphs must hate hearing those words. Despite what most of us think, they are not fine clay, ready to shatter at the first sign of trouble. These scouts are tough and resourceful. Or do you prefer to wait before we find her hiding place? When Hingast hammers down the gates perhaps? Indecision costs lives."

  "We must assume Dervra and Nicolfer know we're here." Sandev shrugged. "Everybody knows an ilven is in the palace, so Nicolfer will realize who brought her."

  Grayar blinked and nodded. "She knows there are no ilven on this continent. The ilvenstone remains on my side of the ocean, so how can an ilven get here? Add the sudden appearance of Djerana to the struggle for a new Emperor and it is not difficult to reason that I've popped over to lend a hand." He gave a quick grin. "After all, everybody knows I love struggles. Wouldn't miss it for the world. We must wait until they make their first move. Again." He sighed. "Which they might have done already."

  Sandev gave a tight smile. "We are fortunate in the quality of the soldiers presently in the city and, as important, with the quality of the men commanding them."

  "We'll have need of them soon," agreed Grayar. "Unfortunately."

  ***

  Marcus lay awake in bed, Zandra deeply asleep beside him. He listened to the early birds singing outside and hoped today might be a little cooler than yesterday. He wondered what had woken him.

  He sat up as he heard the outer door to his rooms slam against the wall and the light mutter of sylph voices. He pulled on his shirt, slipped quietly out of bed and stepped into his breeches.

  Marcus left the bedchamber and immediately spotted Belaika, looking agitated.

  Jenn's tousled head poked from her blankets and she looked at her owner. "You should take this one in hand, enya; he keeps on scaring me in the middle of the night."

  "What is it, Belaika?" asked Marcus.

  "Enya, Mikhan-ya sends his compliments and wishes to inform you that Hingast is advancing on the North Gate."

  "Now?" Marcus raised his eyebrows. "Is Zenepha aware?"

  Belaika shrugged.

  "Go and inform him, Icca. Try not to slam his door like you do mine."

  "Se bata."

  The sound of Belaika's leathery feet slapping against the cool marble floor faded as he ran up the stairs.

  "You may as well go back to sleep," said Marcus.

  Jenn grumbled as she pulled her blankets back around herself. "Belaika is too boisterous, enya."

  Marcus chuckled and gently touched Jenn's shoulder. "Look after Zandra for me when she wakes."

  The small sylph smiled at her owner. "Se bata."

  Leaving his apartment, Marcus waited at the bottom of the stair leading to the Emperor's quarters. A messenger boy dashed past first, quickly out of sight. Led by a still-excited Belaika, Zenepha eventually appeared. The civilian sylph's eyes were wide and his earpoints lay back in his hair, but he successfully hid his fear when he saw Marcus.

  The human smiled to himself. This sylph possessed courage, a virtue many believed rare in his race. Of course, such people often wrongly confused non-violence with cowardice. Marcus knew different, thanks to the faithful service given by the scouts.

  "I have sent for a carriage," said Zenepha, eyeing Marcus's sword warily. That the sylph had courage did not mean he approved of violence.

  "Good."

  Emperor and claimant hurried down the stairs together, with Belaika only two steps ahead of them, ignoring the usual rule of walking behind superiors. As they left the palace, a hastily readied carriage halted before them, the two horses clearly unimpressed at having to work earlier than normal. Guard Commander Mansard sat beside the driver.

  "North Gate, Majesty?" called the purple-cloaked soldier, eyes gleaming in the gathering light.

  The day's heat also strengthened. So much for Marcus's hope.

  "You get in there with Zenepha," said Marcus, "I'll sit up top."

  Mansard obeyed, following the Emperor into the carriage, while Marcus clambered into Mansard's place beside the driver. Belaika wriggled in to sit between them.

  The driver gave the sylph – who appeared to the uninitiated to be dirty – a shocked look that he dared sit beside him, but when Marcus gave no reaction to the sylph's presence, he subsided with only a single disapproving glance. Anything might happen in these days when a sylph took the Throne. The driver thought that perhaps next he would be able to hold a conversation with his horses.

  Marcus turned to the driver. "Are we moving this morning?" he demanded. "At this rate, the siege will be over."

  The driver looked forward again and growled something under his breath that Marcus hoped Belaika failed to understand.

  Leaving the palace grounds, Marcus saw that the city already hummed with military activity. War machines trundled up the road towards the North Gate, horses and men straining to move the large mangonels into range.

  Waved on by soldiers, the carriage halted just before the gate. Fighting had already begun: shouts and screams pierced the morning air as arrows were fired and the few war machines already in position hurled deadly cargoes at the enemy. Rocks and green fire were landing in the city,
which meant that Hingast had moved his war machines into range.

  Marcus and Belaika scrambled down. Mansard climbed out of the carriage first, straightened his cloak and turned to help Zenepha out. Bascon materialized from a dark shadow to stand beside his owner.

  Marcus smiled to himself as Mansard touched his sylph's shoulder, before Bascon melted away again, returning to his duties.

  "It's unwise for Your Majesty to be here," warned the purple-cloaked soldier. "Djerana is sensible, she stayed at the palace."

  Zenepha sniffed in disagreement. "I want to see," he replied, after a pause. "Djerana did not wake, or she would be here as well."

  Marcus and Zenepha mounted the stone steps to the walls together, and soldiers, many already weary from intense labor and the strain of battle, turned to stare. Marcus felt Belaika tense, aware something was happening with the men. He didn't see or hear who started it, but a ragged cheer came from them. It spread, even if many had no idea who or what they were cheering. As these were mostly his soldiers, the claimant blinked in surprise when he understood what the men shouted.

  "Zen-ep-ha! Zen-ep-ha! Zen-ep-ha!"

  Zenepha's earpoints waggled in excitement and pleasure. His silver eyes, still glowing in the fading dark, were wide again and he looked at Marcus.

  The Vintner shook his head and indicated that the Emperor should lead the way onto the walls, simultaneously encouraging his men to continue chanting and cheering. Men pounded their breastplates in salute and hard faces were suddenly smiles.

  "Why do they cheer me?"

  Marcus leaned forward to keep his words private. "Because you have come. Because they think you care."

  "I do care."

  Marshal Mikhan joined them at the viewing platform, when it became clear that the attack had finished. Nothing to see, except a handful of enemy corpses dotting the ground beneath the walls.

  "Where is General Ranallic?" asked Marcus, quietly.

  "South Gate," replied Mikhan. He sniffed. "Told you Hingast wouldn't just sit it out."

  Beside Marcus, Belaika stiffened.

  "Donenulya," he began, "another assault at the South Gate."

  Mikhan nodded grimly. "The reason why Ranallic's down that end. Not entirely unexpected, Majesty; I believe Hingast is testing our defenses." He saw the carriage below. "Soldier! Requisition that!"

  As Mikhan bounded off, Marcus and Zenepha turned to stare beyond the walls again.

  "So sad to see them," said Zenepha, quietly.

  "Who?" asked Marcus.

  "The dead ones."

  "Better them than us," replied Marcus.

  "They have still had their lives stolen from them," retorted Zenepha. "That they are enemies makes me feel no better. There must be another way!"

  Marcus gave the Emperor an understanding look. "Perhaps there is. But as long as some people believe they can cheat their way to success, we are yet to find one. The way of the world, I am afraid. Probably of every world."

  Zenepha sniffed. "If we are going to the South Gate, we had better make a start. In case you have not noticed, Marka's Marshal has stolen our transport."

  As they left the walls, Bascon rejoined them, smiling at his owner. For his part, Mansard ruffled his sylph's hair and patted his shoulder.

  "No chance, Belaika," said Marcus, aware of his sylph's gaze, wondering if he might receive the same treatment.

  The sylph pouted.

  "It's for the rude awakening," explained Marcus. "You annoyed Jenn."

  Sulking, Belaika dropped onto his heels as they waited for another carriage.

  "Back to the palace, Majesty?" asked Mansard cheerfully, as the new carriage rumbled to a halt before them. He gave Bascon a final pat.

  "South Gate, Guard Commander," replied Zenepha, forcefully.

  This time, Mansard stayed on top with Belaika and the driver, this one more tolerant of the sylph's presence, while Marcus rode inside with Zenepha.

  "How long before the firepowder is ready?" asked the Emperor, making conversation.

  "I hope soon," replied Marcus. "We could certainly use it."

  They had little time to talk; they arrived at the South Gate in minutes.

  Here, the battle still raged and Zenepha had to be sheltered as he made his way up the stone steps. Mansard and Marcus stood with the sylph on the command platform, where even Belaika showed nervousness as he stared around, his earpoints slightly wilted. Zenepha, however, stood proudly, earpoints determinedly erect, as if nothing untoward happened anywhere near him.

  Marshal Mikhan bent his head to the sylph. He whispered to him and asked him to point in a certain direction, or say something. Every time Zenepha obeyed, Mikhan issued an order. To the casual observer, it looked like the Emperor directed the battle.

  Marcus gave the marshal's back a cold stare.

  A scrambling ladder made contact with the walls and men swarmed up it, hoping to reach the top before it could be pushed away. The defenders had wooden poles ready and pushed the ladder away as the first man reached the top, where an archer fired at point blank range. The arrowhead protruded from the man's back, his eyes wide with surprise as the ladder came away from the walls, falling in a slow arc. Marcus dragged his gaze away; only those on the lower rungs would escape serious injury or worse.

  A horn sounded somewhere beyond the milling enemy soldiers and they pulled away, jeered by the defenders. The city was safe for the moment. A cheer went up and, as the Emperor turned to leave, men shouted his name.

  "Zen-ep-ha! Zen-ep-ha! Zen-ep-ha!"

  "You have led us to victory!" shouted an anonymous voice and this chant followed the cheers. For the first time, Zenepha looked flabbergasted, turning away from the light of hero worship shining in even the sylph scouts' eyes.

  Marcus grimaced. He knew what Mikhan was trying to do.

  "I did nothing!" Zenepha shouted to Marcus, hoping the soldiers wouldn't hear him.

  Marcus Vintner forced a smile. "It'll do you no harm for them to believe you did," he replied, carefully. "Marshal Mikhan is helping enhance your reputation." His voice held a hint of anger and jealousy.

  He knew it would help Zenepha politically and militarily if the army supported him. He continued. "And making it harder for your political opponents to move too strongly." He pursed his lips and fell silent, considering.

  Zenepha nodded in understanding.

  ***

  "Even better, the people thronged the streets to cheer him."

  Djerana folded her long legs beneath her and accepted the cup of water from Caya with a smile and nod. She stared at it suspiciously before giving the drink a cautious sniff.

  Caya looked affronted.

  "It's quite safe," Sandev assured the ilven. "My water is boiled and filtered." She turned back to Grayar. "Having the people cheer Zenepha does not benefit Marcus Vintner."

  Grayar shrugged. "Perhaps it is time for the Emperor to be a sylph. I must admit it is an interesting idea."

  "But not what I Saw," protested Sandev. "There will be a Vintner on the Throne of Marka and that Vintner is Marcus."

  "With his father still alive? Hmm. The old man might have twenty or thirty years left in him yet. Unfortunately for you, Marcus Senior is stuck outside the city, so he can't renounce his claim in favor of his son."

  Djerana interrupted, much to Caya's surprise. Salu, more used to ilven ways, sipped unperturbed at her water. "Emperor Zenepha is good for Marka. And if he is pushed aside, won't his descendants have a legitimate claim?"

  Sandev gave the ilven a small smile. "Zenepha cannot have children," she countered. "When I realized we might need a sylph to surprise the Supreme Council, I chose carefully."

  Djerana looked unimpressed. "You stole his right to children?"

  "We stole nothing," retorted Sandev. "He couldn't have children long before I selected him. Strict population control is a necessity where he comes from."

  The ilven showed her displeasure with a sniff. Expecting an explosion, Caya flinched.
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  It never came.

  "Far safer for Zenepha this way." Grayar hurried to fill the silence before one of the sylphs asked an awkward question. "Sooner rather than later, his line would produce a weak sylph – a normal sylph, dammit! – and the Throne would collapse again. Zenepha is an exceptional sylph for exceptional times, but there probably won't be another like him for decades."

  Djerana thought this problem also affected human hereditary rule, but said nothing. She had known Grayar for most of her thirty-five summers and knew he would soon launch into a little lecture. With his next breath, Grayar made the ilven grateful she had saved hers.

  "You think humans share this weakness and, up to a point, I agree. A weak human can surround himself with strong men and a strong human can wrest power from those who should advise and not rule him. Even the strongest sylph could not do the same. Humans look for strength in other humans, but look only for weakness in sylphs. Humans would use the slightest excuse to pull a sylph Emperor down, but a series of disasters must befall the weakest of human rulers before the same happens to him. Politicians have put Zenepha on the Throne, though the more popular he becomes, the harder it will be to remove him again."

  The ilven tossed her head, shaking her long brunette hair. Thank you Grayar, she reflected.

  Sandev interrupted. "Where were you this morning? I thought you were Zenepha's shadow. Carried his cloak, perhaps."

  Ilven did not enjoy teasing as much as sylphs and she glared at Sandev before replying. "I had no idea he'd left the palace until too late. By then, nobody knew exactly where I might find him and the palace guards would not let me out. Just in case, they said." Her emerald eyes flashed and the glare returned; ilven detested constraint, no matter how noble the reason.

  Grayar laughed, then grew serious again. "No matter what the people on the streets call it, today was no victory. Just a test of our defenses. Hingast may yet attempt another assault, this time stronger, or he may choose to sit it out. Either way, it's far from over."

  ***

  "Janin, it is you!"

  The young sylph looked up from his work at the potatoes. His thoughts dwelt on the morning's battle, allowing the full horror to sink in. He had rarely been so frightened as when he saw all those men run screaming and yelling towards the walls. Arrows and spears, backed up by catapults and mangonels had added to the terror.

  Most sylphs had stood firm, but a few of the Markan scouts had fled. The humans and experienced scouts probably still argued over a suitable punishment for the deserters. He had come here to work after hearing fully trained scouts demand death for the ringleaders. He had volunteered for this work to keep out of the way.