The ilven looked this way and that, saddened by the dead and wounded dotted about.
"They're falling back!" Ranallic grinned. "Told you it was a feint."
Marcus grinned. "It seems they run away whenever our Emperor appears."
"I had nothing to do with it," retorted Zenepha.
"Or perhaps it is our resident lady ilven they fear?"
Djerana appeared startled for a brief moment before she gave a delighted giggle. "You flatter me," she replied, in her musical voice, "but I doubt if our enemies know I am here."
"Probably not," smiled Marcus. But they will know you're in the city. He forced his voice lower to speak to Zenepha. "Majesty, you should be aware this is no place for an ilven. I do not doubt her courage, but Siranva will not thank us for placing one of His daughters in danger." He thought he spoke low enough for the ilven in question not to hear.
"Thank you for your concern." Djerana's voice held a definite edge, speaking before Zenepha could open his mouth. "But I will not be forced to remain in the palace. If I wish to come here, then come here I shall."
Marcus sniffed and decided some battles weren't worth the effort of fighting. "They run; it is over for tonight."
***
Light crystals dotted around the room provided almost all light as the heavy curtains were drawn, shutting out the wind that rattled the windows in their frames. And shutting in most of the stink that filled the room despite the windows being open. He wished he was back in the Senate, yet thankful he still lived. Bright jet eyes sparkled in the near dark, but he imagined he could see the ragged bundle that covered the woman. A filthy, unwashed woman, if an extremely powerful one. The hope that she'd left the city died when he received her summons. He had failed to keep the Throne empty.
As if she read his mind – perhaps she had! – she spoke. "You will pay for your failure in our time, not yours. However, I give you a chance for redemption."
He winced; meeting that price could be painful and messy. "I humbly apologize, lady."
She might or might not have smiled. "I warned you the Supreme Councilor is wily, but not even I expected to see a sylph on the Throne. Which is why you still breathe."
That breathing had already increased in tempo and he thought his heart might pound its way through his chest. He had read a theory postulating that every creature had a limited number of heartbeats in a lifetime. He strongly suspected that his allotment now shrank faster than was good for him.
She had let him sweat over the occupied Throne for weeks and only now mentioned the subject.
"What can I do?" he asked, filling the uncomfortable silence.
"You are aware of the attacks on the gates," she replied. "Tonight we will break our way into the city and take the coronation building. Tonight brings victory!"
Or total defeat, he reflected, wondering if he could turn away from this madness and try to salvage something from the wreckage. But someone – probably under torture – would betray him. His path was set. Victory for the Malefic Sephiroth, or death as a traitor.
The lady continued. When finished, and her guest departed, she turned her head. "What do you think of that, boy?"
Marlen stepped out from the shadows and inclined his head. "A truly magnificent plan. With all the traitors in one place."
Nicolfer smiled. "You noticed that. Impressive the way you pick up on subtleties." He was wrong: she always had a reserve plan.
Marlen continued. "They took our gold to supplement their stipends and never believed we would actually come to Marka. Once a turncoat, always a turncoat and not to be trusted."
Nicolfer and the room shimmered. Stink and rags were gone. The curtains opened of their own accord and the wind dropped. "As Hingast will destroy the city once he has taken it, the turncoats will not be a problem for long. When Marka is gone and its people slaughtered, you and I can rebuild it. While Dervra and Hingast build their empire in the west, we will make our own in the east. What shall we call our new city? Nicolferapolis? Marlenna?"
Marlen's pale eyes hardened slightly. "So long as my reward is not forgotten."
"Of course not. You may go." Her jet eyes glittered as she watched one of her best ever students leave the room. Together, she and Marlen would build a truly magnificent city. A small smile danced across her lips.
At long last, the work of the hated Grayar and Sandev would be undone. The feeble glimmer of civilization would be snuffed out, to be relit in the Malefic Sephiroth's image. And she would take her rightful place in the natural order, promised so long ago.
Her time had come.
***
Stanak opened the door to Janin. For the first time in weeks, the former beggar had some free time and his owner wanted to see him. Janin felt tired because of his small rations – he had eaten more and better as a beggar – but his were larger than the meager helpings allowed to domestic sylphs.
Caya and Salu were probably asleep. Their identical small rations slowed Caya more than Salu. He would probably see them both later, but for now Stanak must do some of their work.
He held the door wider for the scout to enter. "Sandev's in the study." A grin split his face. "Never thought I'd have to do a sylph's work for her."
"You are doing very well," Janin complimented the bodyguard, before skipping out of the way of a clumsy cuff, never intended for its target. He giggled at his own joke.
"Go through now." Stanak's eyes twinkled. "Yes, as you are."
The sylph knocked briefly on the study door and pushed his way inside.
Sandev's troubled eyes softened when she saw her sylph scout and she even managed a smile. "I've heard the good news about you," she said. "Congratulations."
Janin could not stop a delighted smile, nor a satisfied slant to his earpoints. "Thank you, donyan."
"I'm proud that my scout has been accepted by battle-hardened, experienced sylphs as one of their own," continued Sandev, "and I'm sure that your free time is earned."
The sylph's earpoints wilted slightly. He detected the unspoken but. "What is it you would have me do, donyan?" he asked.
Sandev smiled to acknowledge the sylph's perception. "I want you – discreetly, of course – to remain near the palace and, should Zenepha leave, you stay close to him."
Janin blinked. An unusual request, but he had no reason to refuse it.
"If anything needs to be done by you, I'm certain you'll act in accordance with your training."
The sylph's earpoints slanted forward, twitching in confusion.
"Will you do this?"
Janin nodded.
"You must wonder why I've set you this task, knowing that later you must return to your duties with the army."
The sylph nodded again, but said nothing.
"I ask that you trust me. Stay close to Zenepha, not actually with him. There is danger in what I ask, Janin; you deserve to know that much."
"I can face danger."
"That was one of the good things they told me about you."
Pleased at the compliment, Janin's earpoints twitched in pleasure. "I must go now?" he asked.
Sandev shook her head. "Soon. For now, please tell me all you've learned about the Vintner Army."
***
Belaika smiled at his sleeping wife and children. Callie and Sallie were curled up together on one side of Eleka, while Salafisa slept on the other, small hands clinging to her mother's arm. All three infants looked peaceful, happy to sleep.
Without disturbing the children, the scout knelt to kiss his wife on her forehead. She murmured his name, but never came properly awake. He wanted to stay longer, but duties called. Eleka would remember his kiss when she woke.
Given how little most sylphs were fed, he felt a stab of guilt over Eleka's extra rations. Zandra and Marcus had an arrangement, a secret plan of their own. They had asked Belaika to teach his wife the scouts' whistles.
Both he and Eleka had been sworn to secrecy, but he wondered why she needed to learn the whistles. He kn
ew the subterfuge was not just to gain the privilege of extra food.
His sharp ears picked up noise by the door and he turned. A smile danced across his lips as he saw Jenn with Marcus. His master's personal sylph looked haggard, her skin dulled and cheekbones hollowed. Her earpoints struggled to remain upright. No privilege of extra food for her as her services were not needed. He rose to his feet as they crossed the floor to join him.
"You need rest," he told Jenn.
Fire flashed briefly in her eyes and she shook her head, earpoints twitching forward in determination. "I must serve enya for part of the day," she replied.
Marcus rested a hand on her shoulder. "I've already tried."
Belaika nodded, certain he would be equally stubborn if the positions were reversed. Nobody would mind if domestic infertile sylphs spent their entire time asleep under the present circumstances. Even so, a sylph could only take so much starvation before coma replaced consciousness. Even sylphs eventually starved to death. How he wished the siege was over!
A small sound from Salafisa pulled his attention to her. The gwerin had woken and she stared at him with dark liquid eyes, earpoints twitching. She recognized him, naturally. She knew everyone in the household and a few more besides. Belaika marveled at the rapidity at which his latest child developed.
He already spoke to her properly, though she was months away from speech. Sounds came from her that were recognizably sylph, her earpoints moved smoothly and she could already crawl.
He stroked his gwerin daughter's hair. It already grew long and lustrous. And dark. He did not understand how gwerins were born to sylphs, but her birth had brought his owner great honor. It was irrelevant that this honor reflected on him and Eleka – more so on his wife – but he felt for Salafisa with the same passion as for his fertile daughters.
"You are my beautiful one," he told the gwerin, hugging her as tightly as he dared. He looked up at his owner and blinked back sudden tears.
Eyes bright, Salafisa gurgled up at her admirers.
"A rumor says they are going to stop feeding the young." Belaika's voice held a hint of accusation and his earpoints slanted forward. "You said the end of the siege is near."
Marcus nodded and crouched on his heels. He touched the scout's shoulder, expression compassionate. "The end is near. And remember I'm a father too. My heir is a babe in arms. We won't stop feeding the children, you have my word on that. If my children are fed, everybody else's children are fed. Human and sylph."
Satisfied, Belaika nodded. He stared at his owner, holding his gwerin daughter. His earpoints twitched as a scout's whistle reached him and his head came up.
"Attack," he said. "North Gate."
Marcus nodded. "You have my word," he promised. "Let's go."
***
Zenepha and Djerana were already at the northern command post, where Ranallic exercised control. Despite Ranallic's protests, Mikhan had decided to reinforce the North Gate as the attacks against it were so strong. The Marshal was also present.
"Are you certain it is wise to deplete the defenders of the South Gate?" Zenepha asked Mikhan.
Ranallic looked pleased. He insisted that the other gate should not be denuded, still believing that to be Hingast's true target.
"There are hundreds of carts outside, Majesty." Mikhan sounded as if he had gone through this several times before. "If Hingast switches his attack back to the other gate, our men will move more quickly through the city on carts than the enemy can move around it on foot."
"A sound plan, Majesty," said Ranallic.
"Scouts outside Marka will whistle warning if Hingast switches gates," added Mikhan.
Zenepha heard shrill whistles from the scouts as warning reports of imminent action flashed around the city. He did not know what the scouts' whistles meant, but heard their urgency. He prepared to return to the walls. He enjoyed being among the soldiers as much as they liked to see him among them.
"Attack at North Gate, donyaulen," said Bascon.
Djerana smiled reassuringly at Zenepha, emerald eyes sparkling. Her support had been constant since her arrival in Marka and he would miss her when she returned to her sisters. He returned the smile wholeheartedly, earpoints twitching with contentment.
"Well, gentlemen, time to go to our posts," said Ranallic, wrapping up the meeting. "Our men need us." He turned to Zenepha. "I suppose you'll ignore my advice to stay off the walls."
The sylph smiled. "Save your breath, General Ranallic."
The southerner inclined his head.
But outside the command post, Principal Chancellor Lanas approached him.
"Majesty. It is important that you come with me to the Senate immediately."
"Immediately?" Zenepha raised an eyebrow and his earpoints slanted forward. "I must join my troops on the walls. An attack is imminent."
"Yes Majesty." Lanas managed a small smile, but it failed to touch his speedwell eyes. "There is something urgent we must discuss and we need your presence." He indicated the carriage.
"Need, Chancellor Lanas?" he asked, quietly.
Djerana stared.
"Everybody will be there, as well as your Supreme Council." Lanas could not avoid a twist to his mouth at the mention of the Council. Even now, he could not put aside the centuries-old rivalry between Senate and Council.
Djerana's head cocked to one side. "You seem nervous, Senator Lanas. What is wrong? My senses warn of danger."
Lanas sighed. "We must discuss what best to do if Hingast wins."
Zenepha snorted, his earpoints twitching wildly. "If we lose, Lanas, we are all dead!"
Lanas blinked. "Majesty, I have called for your personal guard to escort us."
"I'm coming with you," said Djerana, before Zenepha could suggest that she might like to be dropped off at the palace.
The sylph looked at her, wondering how she had known what he was about to say, then shrugged and reached for his cloak.
Six Imperial Guardsmen waited beside the carriage. Zenepha smiled at their commander, a young Lieutenant named Gior Retel.
Retel's family reputedly ran the best sylph-breeding farm in the empire and Zenepha had made discreet enquiries. He learned sylphs from the Retel farm were the most sought after and best trained anywhere. Sylphs bred at this farm were cared for properly, many were educated and all fetched higher than usual prices. None ever went to auction as prospective owners of Retel-bred sylphs traveled to the farm to buy. Only those with the best reputation could afford to sit back and wait for customers. Zenepha had had no hesitation in recommending this young man to his personal guard.
"Good evening, Lieutenant Gior."
"Good evening, Your Majesty," came the calm reply. The officer bent his head as Djerana went up on tiptoe.
"Be careful," whispered the ilven, "my senses warn of danger."
"We are always careful, Lady Djerana," answered Gior.
"To the coronation building, Lieutenant," commanded Zenepha.
Although the coronation building stood within easy walking distance, the armored carriage was ready and Zenepha never even thought of complaining. The evening bombardment had begun, the assault concentrated on the North Gate. Hingast had obviously decided to attack one side of the city, no matter what Ranallic believed.
Dull thuds came from huge stones catapulted into the city, damaging buildings and the walls, while green fire made its eerie noise as it passed over the walls and illuminated the sky when it burst on its targets. Zenepha realized that men, women and children died while he hid in his armored carriage.
The main road leading between the two main gates was empty, so reinforcements could be moved quickly from one to the other, just as Mikhan had said. There was little chance of Hingast attacking the side gates; Mikhan had ordered those walled up to minimize entrances to the city.
Djerana and Gior sat in the carriage with him, while the five Guardsmen surrounded it, riding hard for the South Gate. Zenepha suddenly shivered and fought fear.
"Wh
at's wrong?" Concerned, Gior looked at his Emperor.
"Someone is using the Father's Gift," he replied. "Or sorcery."
Two of the tallest buildings in Marka stood on opposite sides of the main street. As the carriage passed, they abruptly exploded, sending beams and rubble across the thoroughfare, blocking the run between the two gates.
"Sorcery," remarked Djerana, eyes wide before she recovered her composure. Had they passed one moment later, they would have been buried.
"Those were lucky shots for Hingast!" exclaimed Gior, bitterly.
"Not luck." Recovered from her own shock, Djerana shook her head.
Zenepha nodded his agreement. "Those buildings were destroyed deliberately to block the road."
Gior was not stupid and knew the importance of keeping the road clear. He tapped on the carriage roof to bring it to a halt and leaned out to one of the Guardsmen.
"Find the nearest scout," he ordered. "Tell him to whistle for troops to clear this mess." He raised his voice. "Drive on!"
As they arrived at the coronation building, Zenepha glanced quickly at the guards. Both had their visors down, standard procedure during an attack. Of course, it meant that he failed to recognize either man. He had taken great care to learn the guards' names.
"You can still go to the palace," he said to the ilven.
"I stay with you," she insisted.
The guards snapped to attention as he and his small entourage passed inside.
Djerana looked around the entrance hall. "Where is everybody?" she asked. "Something's not right here." Nobody replied.
Zenepha squeezed her arm gently and smiled reassurance, but her emerald eyes remained wary.
"Hall or Senate?" queried Zenepha.
Lanas nodded. "Coronation Hall, Majesty. This is of such grave concern that the Supreme Council is also involved."
City Guardsmen outside Coronation Hall swung one of the huge doors open to allow them within. The Senate looked deserted.
Given Lanas's urgency, the sylph was surprised how few people were within. There were far more soldiers than normal, so Zenepha waved his personal guard in with him. Beside him, Djerana stiffened. What was wrong with the ilven? He understood her shyness, but more than coyness bothered her now.
The five senators he had appointed his advisors were there, together with the nine senators who formed the Principal Chancellor's inner sanctum. Only part of the Supreme Council was present, which suggested either dereliction of duty or many latecomers. His former owner, Olista, stood among those arrayed along one wall. He jumped to his feet, a concerned look on his face.