Markan Throne

  If Olista and Tamsin were surprised by the sylph's opinion, they gave no sign.

  A slow smile spread across Olista's face. "You see why I bought him, Tamsin? Almost as good as a gwerin. Able to see straight to the heart of a problem in moments. Well done, Zenepha!"

  The sylph blushed and even Selkina gave him an admiring stare.

  Tamsin nodded. "A wise sylph. A pity you are unable to stand for office; you would make an excellent Senator and could do no worse than most of the clumsy fools already there."

  "You wouldn't do so bad yourself," Olista told his wife.

  "Some women prefer not to stand for public office." Tamsin sniffed. "The brighter among us marry those already there, or who are likely to get there with a little encouragement. Then, women who want to see something done approach the wives of the relevant Senators."

  Olista laughed. "Who then pressure their unfortunate husband to act in a certain manner."

  His wife smiled. "Who gently persuade said husband," she insisted. "It's the best way to be represented. More gets done. Besides, I prefer to stay in the background and let you and Zenepha believe that you come up with all the best ideas."

  "Everyone suspects you pull my strings anyway. They're right, of course."

  Tamsin sniffed again and changed the subject. "Any news of the Vintners?"

  "Rumors of a battle on Candin Plain, but nothing confirmed as yet. My spies inform me that a column has left Calcan, presumably headed this way. We think it includes Marcus Vintner's family. Worryingly, Hingast is on the move as well. What he plans is anyone's guess but, as I said, probably not nice. I'd like to take a sword to the idiot who put it into his head to come."

  "And the other claimants?"

  Olista gave Tamsin a quick glance. "Two or three trying to subvert the Imperial Republic, without success; Enthan's grip on power is too strong. Another letter pressing his claim to the Throne has come."

  "Any news about the Throne?" asked Zenepha, quietly.

  "The Senate have all but promised to recognize it," replied the sylph's owner. "When they do – the debate should finally be over tomorrow – the Supreme Council is bound to follow suit. The problem isn't getting the Throne recognized: it's getting the Senate and Supreme Council to agree who should sit on it."

  "What does Sandev say?" asked Tamsin.

  Olista grimaced. "I've been waiting to see Sandev for days."

  ***

  "Alovak, anya?"

  Sandev turned from the balustrade of her verandah and smiled at her sylph. "Thank you." Unlike most in Marka, Sandev had never insisted her domestic slave wear the anklet of bells that fashion demanded. Again unlike most others, her own slave was a breeder and not an infertile. But more demands were placed on this sylph than normal. Demands requiring more independence than the average infertile possessed. "How is Caya this morning?"

  The sylph's silvery gray eyes, at a height with Sandev's sapphire-blue, flickered briefly aside. "I am well, anya. Your breakfast is nearly ready."

  Sandev smiled as she watched the slave turn and pad noiselessly into the room. Not a single board creaked under the sylph's tread, thanks to her natural light weight.

  Her attention returned to the sky above the dark pyramid outside the city. A glint in the brightening sky reassured her by its presence. The Ark Star was one of only three celestial objects ever visible in daylight, the others being the moon and sun. One of the few who knew the Ark Star was inappropriately named, Sandev wondered how people might react if they learned the Ark Star's true purpose and history. Its orbit brought it directly above Marka several times a day or, perhaps more correctly, directly above the pyramid. Beyond, the ring of hills protecting the end of the valley rose up and up. Just to the right of her view of the pyramid, the road from Candin Plain dropped into the valley. Along which she hoped Marcus Vintner would come any day now.

  Preferably alone.

  That part was her biggest gamble. She had studied the Vintners ever since the collapse of the Second Empire and knew both Marcus and Branad Vintner had an about equal claim to the Throne. Descended from the last Emperor, Marcus's claim was a little stronger, but muddied by the fact that his father still lived, although the older man had renounced the claim in favor of his son.

  Despite hoping that Marcus Vintner would arrive alone, Sandev remained aware of his renowned mercy. Branad Vintner behaved as honorably, but if the two arrived together, it would only be after a battle. One would have lost that battle and, hopefully, his claim. Or might they have talked and decided to face the Senate together?

  No, these two shared too much bad blood, a history of mutual antagonism and strife. There would have been a battle. One of them might have been killed, but Sandev knew she was rarely that lucky. Unless the wrong Vintner lay dead.

  She drew in a breath before sipping her alovak. If Marcus was dead, she would transfer her support to Branad Vintner. Rumors already circulated of a great battle on the plain; she had been tempted to go for a look to satisfy her curiosity, but eventually decided against.

  Her thoughts came to an abrupt end as Caya poked her head around the door onto the verandah, earpoints twitching in agitation.

  "All right," laughed Sandev, "I'll come through now." Annoyingly, the boards squeaked for her.

  Even as she ate her breakfast, watched by a silent Caya, her mind whirled. Branad Vintner's cluster of Prefectures lay to the north and east; Marcus Vintner's lay east, separated by the grandly named Kingdom of Trenvera. There were one or two other Prefectures and also some abandoned land sandwiched between the miniature empires.

  To the west lay a coalition of Prefectures ruled by Hingast, a man now headed for Marka. This man's vile reputation preceded him and even the rumor that he moved this way was enough to set the city buzzing. Sandev suspected who really controlled Hingast and dreaded facing that power again. Between Marka and the west, and the Imperial Republic to the south, many former Prefectures of the old empire struggled for their continued survival. Most reveled in their independence, but others were wistful for the old days. All squabbled with their neighbors.

  But Hingast – together with the man she suspected held the real power – was her greatest cause for concern.

  Hingast began to earn his reputation when he came to his title young, sixteen years ago. His father had died in a stinking alleyway in a small provincial town. Hingast ordered every inhabitant impaled, before razing the town and obliterating every hint of its existence. The young prince fell into paranoia and spent a lot of time executing his many – and likely imagined – enemies. Only marriage had calmed him: that and hunting sylphs for sport.

  Alone of the claimants to the Throne, he showed no interest in expanding his dominions. He added some land from conquered territories to his existing Prefectures and destroyed the rest. His policy was to prevent any potential invader from living off the land. The inhabitants of the newly wasted lands were offered farms in Eldova or other Prefectures, if they capitulated to his rule. Hingast enslaved or killed those who refused. If he felt particularly vindictive, they were left to starve. Sandev suspected it depended more on which General did the conquering. Some had more honor than others, but she suspected Hingast did not care either way.

  Someone had learned of the invitations issued to the Vintners and told Hingast; now the man was coming. That he ruled nine Prefectures weighed heavily with some High Councilors and Senators. That he had wasted as many more, they preferred to ignore.

  "What is wrong, anya?" Caya stepped forward.

  Sandev blinked; she must have made a sound without realizing. She smiled at the sylph and remembered that this one was smart enough to see a lie. "Just one or two nasty thoughts. Nothing to worry about. The food today is excellent." Truth to tell, she couldn't remember exactly what she had eaten, but she had enjoyed it. "I'm going into the city. Please ensure everything is clean when I return."

  Caya bobbed her head and smiled. "Se bata."

  Gathering her cloak, Sandev left the v
illa and stepped into the bustling crowds. Before she had taken ten steps, she was no longer alone. She glanced to her left and slightly behind.

  "Good morning, Stanak," she said.

  "Good morning, Sandev," replied the man, coming to walk alongside her.

  Of average height, only a little taller than Sandev, he emanated menace, his gray-blue eyes taking in everything. He had been her bodyguard for six years and was very good at it. The streets of Marka were much safer than most believed, thanks to the City Guard's efficiency when dealing with malefactors. However, most wealthy people, particularly ladies, went nowhere without a bodyguard. Unless Sandev wanted to stand out, she must have one as well.

  "Ready to face the Senate again?" he asked.

  "Not that. The Senators can make up their own minds. I've interfered enough."

  "I'm sure they will vote as you suggest."

  "Hmm. I trust my hand is not that obvious."

  The Senate and Supreme Council were due to vote on the small matter of recognizing the Throne. If the debate, which had raged for days ever ended. The large matter was getting them to recognize the right claimant to that Throne. If they failed to agree on that, recognition was pointless. Yet there was always the contingency plan, known only to her and the Supreme Councilor.

  She could not divert Stanak so easily. "They believe your hand is obvious even when it is not. If you were in the public gallery, it might help persuade them."

  Sandev smiled. "You have a point. Very well, the Senate it is."

  She wound her way through the crowds, pleased that nobody recognized her. In the days before the Empire collapsed, she was instantly recognizable everywhere, people bowing and scraping to her left and right. All very nice, but she had tired of it over the centuries. Now, with everyone wrapped in their own worries and miseries, people saw just another highborn lady walking through the streets with her bodyguard. She barely received a second glance.

  Only the sylphs, darting through the crowds on errands for their owners, or begging for food, gave her a closer look. Sylphs always saw far more than they let on.

  Sandev paused to watch an itinerant group of entertainers, mostly sylph, but with a smattering of young humans, smiling as she saw a sylph complete a double backward somersault. The maneuver was executed perfectly and she suspected that the entertainers practiced for hours each day. She looked beyond the itinerants and crowds, staring at the imposing buildings beyond.

  The library, surrounded by the great schools, almost deserted now, learning all but smothered in these turbulent times. Before the collapse, all humans and as many sylphs were fully literate and educated to the best of their ability. Now, perhaps one in three humans was functionally literate and only a handful of sylphs. The situation in the remaining Markan Prefectures was even worse.

  Yet Sandev held to hope. The Markan Empire would again take its rightful place as ruler of the civilized world. She believed that and knew which claimant could best help Marka recover.

  Turning another corner, she ignored a sylph beggar crying for bread and paused. Before her stood the building housing Senate and Supreme Council: the hub of Marka. Opposite, someone had built a warehouse, now in disrepair and full of itinerant sylphs. That beggars were tolerated this close to the seat of government demonstrated to many how far things had fallen, but those beggars were permitted to remain for good reason.

  All but a few beggar sylphs belonged to some gang or other. In exchange for "protection", they handed over most of their takings. Those infesting the old warehouse really worked for either Senate or Supreme Council. These sylphs were controlled jointly by Sandev and the City Guard, forming an excellent network of intelligence gatherers.

  "Bread, donanya," repeated the sylph.

  She looked again at the beggar and recognition dawned. She kept her voice low. "What do you have for me, Janin?" Now she knew why Stanak had not chased the boy off.

  "Bread!" repeated the sylph, more for effect, though nobody was anywhere near. He now spoke quietly. "Saxin saw one of the guards let armed men through one of the side gates in the middle of the night. She saw three, then four more the next night."

  "Which guard, Janin?"

  The sylph's earpoints wilted slightly. "The men called him Gestlin," he replied. "But we do not know the name. Those he let in have gone to the Guildsman."

  Sandev stilled her face. The Guildsman was not renowned as the most loyal in Marka. "Did Saxin see the guard?"

  "Not his face. Not to pick him out should she see him again."

  "You have done well, Janin. What will you do now?"

  Janin grinned. "The Guildsman is my begging spot," he said.

  "You be careful. These men are more dangerous than usual." She turned to Stanak and raised her voice. "Give the boy a coin for bread."

  "Mutydo, donanya." Janin bobbed his head, bit into the copper coin Stanak passed to him and melted away.

  "I've always envied sylphs their ability to disappear like that," muttered Sandev.

  "The Senate," growled Stanak. The sylph boy was easily seen if one knew where to look and how. He was anything but invisible. "Are we going in, or not?"

  As she mounted the steps to the Senate, Sandev spotted Captain Crallin of the City Guard. He bowed to her as she approached; he knew her well.

  "You have a man named Gestlin," she said, without exchanging any pleasantries. "I think it might be best if he is always accompanied when on watch. I have received troubling news about him. For his own safety, it may be better to give him a partner."

  Crallin forced a smile. "Janin has already been to see me." The City Guard doubled as police force and intelligence gathering agency. "I have no guard by the name of Gestlin."

  Sandev stared. No doubt, the wily Janin had been paid twice for the same information. "Then we have a spy. A traitor. Saxin saw this man, whom she overheard named Gestlin, admit seven men through a side gate over two nights. Seven armed men. They are staying at the Guildsman."

  Captain Crallin nodded. "Saxin saw this man, yet claims she did not."

  "You know how it is, Captain. Beggars do not want to be seen to be tangled with the authorities."

  Crallin shrugged. "That attitude does not make our work easier. The side gates are kept locked and unmanned over the winter months. I'll check and see if there are any unexplained absences from the main gates with the roster Sergeant. And I'll speak with my intelligence officers to see if they can unmask any impostors. And we will pay yet another visit to the Guildsman. I'll let you know what we find." He grinned briefly before touching the rim of his helmet and turned, about to leave.

  Sandev laid a hand on the Captain's sleeve. "Tell your men to take great care," she said. "These strangers are no friends to Marka."

  Crallin opened his mouth to speak but, seeing the expression on Sandev's face, changed what he was about to say. "Very well, I will do as you ask." The soldier continued down the steps.

  Stanak watched the soldier stride away. "He's probably already forgotten he wanted to say something different." The bodyguard chuckled. "How often have you used that mind trick on me?" His gray eyes were untroubled.

  "Shall we go to the Senate?" asked Sandev, quietly. "Let us see how our representatives vote today."

  ***

  Marlen glanced out of the Guildsman's main room window and ignored the sylph who placed a tankard of ale on the table before him. She lingered until Marlen turned his pale blue eyes to her, when she bobbed a hasty curtsy and darted away, earpoints wilted. Marlen's attention returned to the busy street outside.

  People hurried about their business, dodging sedans and carriages, each wrapped in private thoughts. Marlen always relaxed when watching the bustle of a large city, as people rushed about their mundane and mostly pointless lives, trying to ignore their inevitable destiny. Marlen saw them all as his inferiors. Sheep, the lot of them.

  Marlen had been born with the Gift, a power that came directly from Siranva. He had even begun to learn to use it, until he le
arned about sorcery. On the day he had discovered this alternative, he turned his back on Siranva for ever. Now fully committed to the other sephiroth, he worked to replace Siranva with gods more ready to reward mankind.

  He watched a sylph beggar, wrapped in a dirty blanket against the thin spring wind, thrust his hand at passersby. Beggars, in Marlen's opinion, were the lowest of the low. Had this sylph no personal pride? He looked closer, and realized the boy was not even fully-grown. It didn't matter; he hated sylphs almost as much as he hated ilven and Siranva. He turned his head and beckoned to the innkeeper.

  The man, summoned from his casks, hurried across, dodging scrubbed wooden tables and benches polished from long use.

  "That sylph always beg there?" he asked, pointing out of the window.

  The innkeeper nodded. "Most days."

  Marlen grunted and scratched at one side of his nose. "Just coincidence he's always there?"

  The innkeeper laughed. "There's always sylphs outside inns. Prime pitches for them and they squabble if an interloper moves in. They wait for drunks to drop their coin. Sylphs can hear one fall from two streets away and the first one there is usually quick enough to catch it before it stops rolling."

  Marlen only just stopped himself from telling the innkeeper that sylphs, particularly beggars, were vermin and should be eradicated. Beggars would perform small tasks for money and he supposed sylphs were no exception. In Marka as in other cities, the beggars would be controlled and disciplined by gangs who fed off their earnings. But who controlled the gangs?

  He dismissed the innkeeper with a nod of his head.

  With a woman as powerful as Sandev in Marka, beggars might be dangerous. He never wanted to fall into Sandev's clutches without Dervra to protect him; he could not face one of the Ten alone. He heard a footfall behind him.

  "Good afternoon, Petan." He spoke without turning, seeing the man's reflection in the glass of the window.

  The large man lowered himself into the seat opposite Marlen. "How long are we staying here?" he asked.

  Marlen sniffed. "Until we receive further instructions. Be patient."

  The newcomer nodded. "We won't get too comfortable then."

  Marlen managed a smile. "That's right, you won't. Ask one of the men to keep an eye on that sylph beggar. I want to know his every move."