Markan Empire

  The sylph agreed that getting work on his day off amounted to a catastrophe and he glanced at the banners standing proudly in the fresh breeze. "All right."

  He swept through the barracks on his way to the walls, in case any card schools were active, but the men who were up readied themselves for their watch. Those off duty until the afternoon were more interested in sleep. Either way, they were not in the most welcoming of moods. And when those already on watch were relieved, they would only want to sleep after their long night.

  He stepped onto the walls and shielded his eyes from the strong sunshine for a moment. When his pupils had narrowed almost to vertical slits, he looked about with more interest. With the sun now up, the pink tinge to the clouds had gone, but they moved with no less speed than earlier.

  With less to impede it, the fresh breeze curled strongly over the walls and ruffled his lengthening hair. The banners on the turret tops stood proudly, flat as wooden boards.

  One banner was the Royal Flag, red-white-red stripes, with a red crown in the center of the white stripe. The other banners were white, with the Royal Flag on one corner and crossed swords in the fly. The Mametain's personal flag – a brown fox on a yellow field – flew from the northeast tower. The gate towers flew the regimental flags of the soldiers guarding the castle: blue and gold checks with a barred letter in black in one corner.

  Out of the wind, the sun warmed the air and already felt strong, though it only just stood above the horizon.

  Siaba might be going into the city on the first cart, as she often went into Taura on errands. Why would he be thinking of her? He saw little of her in the castle, except when running some errand or other. Rarely hurrying and never at menial chores.

  Clearly not in the lowest rank of sylphs, unlike Neptarik, who stood with the lowest of the low. The red crown sewn onto the breast of his tunic could not be newer.

  He must remember why he had infiltrated Castle Beren.

  How could he reach the Mametain's study undetected? He needed a closer look at those intriguing maps and the notes with them. And time to copy them. There must be a way to smuggle copies out of the castle.

  With luck he might meet his owner today, his first free day since entering Castle Beren. His conscience nagged for giving Balnus no thought for a few days, but someone else had dominated his thoughts.

  Mya.

  Stupid he knew, but he had gotten emotionally involved and had no intention of stopping. These things sometimes happened and he knew he wanted Mya's company more than he wanted to steal the information Marka so desperately needed.

  Mya could not hide her interest, so might she leave the Mametain's service when he did? Leaving might mean goodbye to Mya.

  Would she carry tales if she learned why he was here? He dared not confide in her, in case her loyalty lay with the Mametain.

  He detected her sorrow, a bone-deep melancholy that only lifted in his company. She liked him, but for all she knew Nijen offered greater security.

  A complication he did not need.

  When he asked to leave the Mametain's service, it would only be after a successful mission. The Mametain would probably know that someone had been into his study uninvited, so he might be careful about letting anybody go until they caught the spy.

  Captured spies had an unfortunate habit of dying here and Neptarik had no wish to be next. Nobody could learn he was a spy.

  "You be careful up here."

  The sylph jumped as a patrolling guard touched his shoulder.

  "Blustery wind," continued the guard. "It's nearly had me off the walls twice this morning. You'd better be very careful."

  "Thank you, donenya." Neptarik bobbed his head.

  Strong winds lifted sylphs all too easily and a fall into the courtyard, or even onto one of the roofs, would at least bruise him and end his hope for an enjoyable day off.

  Neptarik shuddered. He might get worse than bruising, as he was high enough for a fall to break something. Broken bones splintered and, if a sylph broke something like an arm or leg, the shock and internal bleeding was usually fatal.

  Sheltering behind the parapet, he stared at the sea. Deep breaths of refreshing sea air were partly driven into his lungs by the wind. Waves looked like deep wrinkles in the blue-green water and white foam crested almost all of them.

  The moat brooded below, and cliffs that rose almost vertically from the sea bordered a strip of land. Unclimbable cliffs, or as good as. Anybody desperate to escape could only die jumping from here. It would hurt enough just to the moat.

  Something tugged at his memory, but he failed to catch it.

  How could he measure the passing of an hour?

  The wind strengthened enough to increase his discomfort; he must take care when he moved. And this was a sheltered spot!

  He watched a sail in the distance and wondered if the ship headed for Re Taura. Or were there more islands to the east? Another port perhaps. He hoped the ship's sylph knew her way.

  His thoughts turned to Cloudy and Kytra, ship sylphs he knew. Were they enjoying a good trading season? Velvet Moon must be sailing and trading now, a new ship earning her keep with the older Flying Cloud.

  The wind gusted again and he crouched lower in the lee of the parapet. He basked in the strengthening sunshine that warmed even the stone. Instead of the sea, he now looked across the castle and glimpsed Siaba crossing the inner bailey. She looked uncharacteristically urgent.

  He ignored the infertile and stared across the harbor to the sprawling city of Taura, his intended destination.

  City and harbor glistened in the sunshine. A forest of masts crammed the wharves and few of those ships had moved since Neptarik's arrival. Somewhere over there, either in the city or just outside it, his owner and Verdin worked. He hoped they had got further with their tasks than he had managed. But he had no idea exactly what they were up to and they could hardly keep in touch while he slaved in the castle.

  What if they were grinding their teeth, wondering why he took so long to complete his part?

  Hugging his knees, he basked in the sun and listened to the wind that sometimes curled over the top of the parapet to ruffle his hair. Perhaps being a sylph here wasn't so bad after all. He closed his eyes.

  Life was rarely so good.

  ***

  Siaba shuddered as she dashed from place to place, seeking Neptarik. Of all the sylphs in Castle Beren, only she had served the old Mametain and only she had adapted when the ruler changed. And the only one who could stomach working with Tektu. But now she was unsure.

  Thanks to her literacy, Siaba had enjoyed privileges under old Mametain Steppan, and the new ruler still made use of her letters. But she served Tektu in ways no other sylph would. Even though the strange sylph hardly forced onerous tasks on her. Fetching Tektu her breakfast in the morning was hardly difficult.

  And now this. Her breath quickened and she forced away the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. How could Tektu have changed so much overnight and how could Neptarik put it right?

  And where was Neptarik?

  She went to the male dormitory first and, after shy taps produced no response, went in. The only sylph still in bed was not Neptarik.

  No sign of him in the sylphs' dining hall.

  "Had his breakfast ages ago," said a scullion. "Long before you turned up the first time. In a big hurry, he was."

  Siaba left before the boy finished speaking. If Neptarik had hurried a meal, he must be going into the city. She dashed to the gates.

  "Anyone seen Neptarik?" she demanded. "Has he gone?"

  Fasal leaned nonchalantly on his halberd and looked down at her. "And who wants to know, little one?"

  Siaba narrowed her eyes. "Tektu."

  "First cart's not left yet," replied Fasal. "Not seen the lad you're after either. Though if he's walking in, he might have left before the night lads went to bed."

  "He's still in Beren?"

  "I expect so." The guard nodded. "Big job broke out?"
/>
  Siaba hardly heard him as she turned away.

  She grew more frantic. She searched the sylphs' tower top to bottom, where she found Mya in the kitchens.

  "Neptarik?" she asked.

  "Not seen him all day," said Mya. "He said something about Taura."

  Having run out of places Neptarik might be, Siaba returned to each one. The male dormitory was now deserted. Not in the dining hall. He hadn't returned to the gate. He wasn't in the stables. Not in a workshop. She stretched her neck and looked around the walls, seeing nothing. She considered going up, but the fresh breeze discouraged her and she hoped other sylphs would give the walls a miss.

  Had she been a few incas taller, or looked at the walls from a different place, she would have seen him. But as Neptarik sat with his back to one of the parapets, her gaze swept past.

  Defeated and frustrated, she returned to Tektu's chamber. She must be wondering what took so long. Reluctantly, she pushed the door open.

  "Apologies, Tektu-ya, but I cannot find Neptarik."

  Tektu shuffled nearer.

  Siaba flinched. Tektu's skin had aged and cracked, showing blue muscle and sinew beneath. Worse, the stench of putrefaction emanated from her. Why was she crying?

  "Siaba." Tektu shook her head. "I am sorry. I wish there was another way."

  Siaba did not even have time to scream.

  ***

  The sound of the catapult releasing woke Neptarik from his doze. Blinking, he shook his head and looked at the shadows that now crept around the walls. He sat up in a small panic; had he missed the first cart?

  He remembered what had woken him and shouts of confusion reached his ears as soldiers realized the catapult had prematurely released its load. He woke up properly and started as he looked into Tektu's eyes.

  They were swollen and shot through with blue. He glanced away and thought she looked more... youthful. Her skin almost glowed with health and vitality.

  "You been crying?" he asked.

  Tektu glowered. "Just the wind."

  For some reason, she looked disgusted to see him, almost as if she preferred to see him dead.

  "I have been looking for you," she continued. "We have work."

  "Thought it was my day off."

  Tektu's pixie face tightened. "If that collar is getting heavy, you can have the rest of your life off. All you need do is ask."

  Neptarik sensed there would be trouble if took her up on the offer.

  Rising to his feet, he grumbled and rubbed his bottom, numbed from unaccustomed sitting. He followed Tektu to the room just inside the south tower. The infertile sylph pointed to a black bag.

  "Carry that."

  The bag clinked with tools as Neptarik hefted it.

  "Through here."

  Neptarik shivered; he found the atmosphere here distasteful. Tektu pointed up.

  "Your friend Mya goes up there quite a lot," she told him. "Never found out why. It's called the sulking room." She bared her teeth to resemble a smile.

  Neptarik must warn Mya later. The less Tektu knew of her comings and goings, the better. "We are going up?"

  "Down. To the dungeons."

  "Dungeons?" Neptarik blinked and concern flickered before he composed himself. Did she know?

  "We have work here," she replied.

  "What sort of work?" Neptarik's concern grew.

  "Sometimes we find a traitor or spy. Part of my duties is to learn what they know. See who else might be involved in any conspiracy."

  The brightness faded from Neptarik's day. Something horrible lay ahead and he wanted no part of it. Panic flared momentarily as he thought of Balnus and Verdin. Had either been captured?

  "Problem?" asked Tektu, with another forced smile.

  "I must ask to be released. Sylphs do not do things like this."

  Tektu turned, face expressionless.

  Neptarik suspected tears lurked somewhere beneath those calm features. He could not think why. Surely nothing to do with a captured spy?

  "Please?" Father, but he hated having to plead!

  Tektu's earpoints twitched. "You keep asking what I am. Today Neptarik, you get an answer."

  ***

  Mya spent a happy day in the kitchens.

  Sylphs always had plenty of hard work here and she helped at most of it. Her first task found her in the bakery where she watched an hourglass and opened the oven door when the sand finished trickling through. The night workers had prepared the dough and put the loaves into the oven, but it fell to the morning shift to over see it. Smells from the hot bread brought water to her mouth; any small pieces of crust that had broken away from the loaves were fair game and ended up in her stomach.

  After the baking, she turned spits and tried to ignore what was being roasted over the flames. Infertiles performed this chore naked. Being shyer than those she worked alongside, and having a more developed sense of personal dignity, Mya did not strip off, but tried to keep as far away from the fires as she could.

  Even so, she sweated. When finished, her tunic and breeches were covered in dust and grime. In many ways, kitchens were even dirtier than the stables, though the dirt was different.

  The kitchens were hot, noisy and crowded, but very well organized. She blinked at Siaba, as she crossed the kitchens to her.

  "Seen Neptarik?" asked the infertile. "Tektu wants him urgently."

  Mya did not particularly like Siaba. She sucked up to Tektu and got privileges she had not earned. She had served the old Mametain, and yet adapted to new ownership. That smacked of disloyalty in Mya's opinion.

  Even so, she sensed an undercurrent of fear she had never noticed before.

  "Not seen him all day," she replied. She hoped he was enjoying his day off. "Said something about going into the city."

  Siaba firmed her expression and turned away to leave.

  "And thank you, too," muttered Mya.

  "Break time," said one of the infertiles, pulling her tunic back on over her head. She grinned at Mya. "We have earned it."

  Though not even midmorning, there was rather more food at break time than Mya usually received with her main meal. She smiled at the choca on her plate, a rare treat in Castle Beren. The choca-obsessed Neptarik would be jealous if he ever found out.

  She had no intention of saving him any.

  Two cooks began to squabble and Mya looked up. The argument began over nothing much – how little could trigger an argument between humans always surprised Mya – and the Master of the Kitchens appeared in moments to calm them down.

  "The Master" was a friendly-faced lady of middle years who insisted on the honorific master. She needed to know everything that went on in her kitchens, know every task in detail. She had to be firm with sylphs and human slaves, diplomatic towards the free, and able to keep peace in a place with so many argumentative people. She kept everybody busy and organized.

  Unlike the sylphs, most humans working in the kitchens – and definitely all the cooks – were free. The master kept her manner easy-going, just as well as most of the cooks turned into screaming harridans at the slightest excuse. The few human slaves, mostly former street children or debtors, worked here. They were collared in exactly the same way as sylphs, a peculiar custom Mya believed unique to Re Taura.

  She finished her bread rolls quickly, ready to work again. Her turn to clean the huge cauldrons and pans. Dishes came back to the kitchens for washing all the time, but scullions got those. Slaves got the dirtier tasks, and even slaves had a hierarchy. With sylphs at the bottom.

  Scraping out grease and fat was only a little less disgusting than some of the stuff they used to get the utensils gleaming again. And gleam they must, as everything must pass the Master's inspection.

  Except when one or other of the cooks threw a strop, the kitchens were a happy place to work, if busy. Humans commanded and sylphs obeyed, everybody working together almost in harmony.

  Sylphs came into the kitchens all the time, mostly for alovak, but sometimes to colle
ct meals for their owners. Officers' sylphs were dressed according to their owner's whim and certainly differently from the castle sylphs. Many boasted rich dresses and jeweled collars.

  They were properly deferential; clothes never made a sylph anything but a slave. But many looked at the castle sylphs with sad eyes and Mya did not know if they envied or pitied their lowly position. She did not know which, because castle sylphs did not mix socially with the officers' sylphs, who spent most of their waking lives a few steps from their lord and master.

  As the morning drew to an end, the Mametain came into the kitchens.

  The master hurried across and everybody immediately worked harder. Close enough to overhear their conversation, Mya eavesdropped.

  "Anybody seen Siaba?" Nijen asked. "She's supposed to be copying for me and hasn't turned up."

  "She's been down twice," replied the Master. "For Tektu's breakfast and then to speak to Mya."

  Mya squeaked when Nijen looked at her.

  "What did she want?" the Mametain asked.

  "Neptarik. She said Tektu wanted to see him."

  Nijen nodded thoughtfully, turned on his heel and left.

  Everybody relaxed.

  "Siaba is missing?" asked Mya.

  "She'll turn up somewhere," replied the master. "Probably sulking over something unimportant."

  Mya doubted if Siaba ever had cause to sulk.

  Nijen came into the kitchens twice more during the afternoon, again looking for Siaba. Speculative chatter spread. Sylphs coming for food or alovak stopped to whisper the latest rumor concerning the only known literate sylph in Castle Beren.

  "She has run away," said one.

  "Why would she?" asked someone else. "Ask and release is granted. She can read and write, she can get work anywhere."

  "She is hiding," suggested another.

  "Found a good place," replied the kitchen doubter. "They have searched the castle three times."

  "Perhaps she is in the city."

  "And the guards did not notice? Someone will be in trouble if that is true."

  Mya just listened. An exciting mystery, or at least different, but something felt wrong.

  Kitchen chores always took the entire day and Mya felt relief when the necessary washing up after the evening meal came to an end. She had barely an hour of free time left before bed.

  She must find Neptarik.