Markan Empire

  It was time.

  ***

  Patisk had to admit that Councilor Brendin personified calm when under pressure. From the moment his men burst into the Councilor's home, he managed to keep up a facade of outrage.

  "How dare you burst in on me like this!" he protested.

  Patisk ignored him. "Search the house, Sergeant."

  "Very good, sir."

  Kayen led two men upstairs, while the others searched the ground floor.

  Brendin took a good look at Patisk. "You'd better have a good reason for this intrusion, Lieutenant," he said.

  No threats, not yet.

  "We have an excellent reason, Councilor," replied Patisk.

  "And I have a right to know what that reason is," continued Brendin.

  Patisk's smile was cold. "When I arrest you," he said.

  Brendin's face went purple with rage.

  The men downstairs found nothing of interest, but Kayen sounded as if he and his men were taking their time on the upper floor.

  "Your men can be putting anything up there," said Brendin. "Anything!"

  Patisk did not even bother replying to that.

  "I've done no wrong. I even served in the Guard myself. And never conducted myself in such a disgraceful way."

  Patisk let it all wash over him.

  Kayen finally returned, clasping several books.

  "We found these, sir."

  "Never seen them before in my life!" protested Brendin. "You brought them with you."

  Patisk flicked through the pages and finally nodded to himself. He looked up.

  "Councilor Brendin Aulic Jendran," he began, "I am arresting you on suspicion of treason against Marka. Of plotting rebellion against the Emperor. Of complicity to murder, incitement to murder, incitement to rebellion, of endangering Marka's citizens."

  Brendin folded his arms, calm and collected. "This is nonsense."

  "You may come with us to the guardhouse," continued Patisk. "Either escorted, or dragged by us. Your choice."

  Brendin's eyes narrowed. "You may escort me," he hissed.

  "Very good, sir." Patisk smiled. "Guardsmen! Escort the prisoner outside."

  ***

  Captain Crallin rested his hands on the notebooks. He smiled at the list of names contained within as he flicked through the pages.

  "This should wrap everything up nicely," he said. "You've done well, Lieutenant Patisk."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Some of these men are targets and others contacts." Crallin raised an eyebrow. "Enough to hang Brendin."

  "Only you don't want to hang Brendin, do you sir? You're going to turn him."

  "You're a quick lad, Patisk." Crallin grinned again. "He'll be more useful to us alive than dead."

  "Shall I bring the questioner?"

  Crallin nodded. "Let's give our naughty Councilor a scare. We'll get what we want then."

  "I shall see to it immediately, sir."

  ***

  Sallis ti Ath followed Petan into the alleyway and waited a few moments, partly to let his sight adjust to the increased gloom. He waited until the man turned away from the wall, then stepped forward.

  "I have a message for you," he said.

  Petan grunted. "Now? Who from?"

  Sallis rested a hand on Petan's arm. A gentle touch, like that of a healer. Touch healing: such an important part of the Gift. Only it didn't work that way with ti Ath.

  "From Meylka."

  "Who?" Petan frowned.

  When it came to the Gift, he had always been different. He prepared the correct weave.

  The ability to heal supposedly also burned in him. He learned the skill assiduously and methodically. Unfortunately, when he came to put the talent into practice, the power that in others wrought miraculous recovery, brought only death. He was a killer, with the Father's Gift coursing through his veins.

  "A sylph," replied ti Ath.

  "Sylph?"

  "Named Meylka. The one you murdered."

  Sallis ti Ath weaved and stilled Petan's heart. This talent was why Elvallon had refused to continue his training and returned him home. The man grunted once and keeled over. He deserved something worse than a quick death, but that didn't matter.

  Justice had been done.

  ***

  Chapter 25

  In Marka

  Marshal Mikhan Annada strode along the palace corridor, eyes staring ahead and lips thinned. He acknowledged salutes and greetings politely, if perfunctorily. Those who knew trouble when they saw it wisely kept out of his way.

  Since receiving the written report from his adjutant, Mikhan had tried and failed to find Marcus Vintner. The man had turned into smoke, absent from all his usual haunts.

  Even the man's apartments were deserted, except for a lone palace sylph cleaning. She answered Mikhan's question with a whinge that Marcus Vintner's own sylph should be there to clean.

  Mikhan had no interest in sylphs' complaints.

  Treylfor and Indelgar were out of the city exercising their men. And had just happened to take all their sylph scouts with them. Mikhan wondered how much those two commanders knew of what had happened. If the scouts had reported to Marka, they had reported to those two also. At least Indelgar should know better.

  He would speak with the scouts later.

  Mikhan had heard only by chance the information that commanders in the field already knew. He had overall command of the army by the Emperor's order, and keeping him ignorant of information rightfully his had roused his anger.

  The guards outside the Emperor's door came to attention as he approached.

  Mikhan nodded to both of them. "Is His Majesty within?" he asked.

  "Yes, Marshal."

  "Ask if I can see him."

  One of the guardsmen disappeared inside, while the other eyed Mikhan neutrally. The man would know he was no threat. Mikhan wore his sword, but the guard said nothing about it. His companion returned in moments.

  "His Majesty will see you now, Marshal."

  Mikhan managed a small smile.

  As the aged Marshal walked in, Silmarila met and escorted him to Zenepha.

  Mikhan bowed again. "Majesty."

  "What can I do for you, Marshal Mikhan?" Zenepha gave Marka's Marshal a welcoming smile.

  "You should know that there has been a battle – more a skirmish – between our men and Eldovans."

  "That reached us quickly."

  Mikhan nodded. "Yes, sir. We can thank the scouts for that. Kelanus left a string of scouts between there and here."

  "Who won the battle?"

  "We did, sir. Though for once that's unimportant."

  Zenepha's earpoints twitched and even Silmarila looked surprised.

  Mikhan shook the report in his hand. "The battle involved not only Lance General Kestan, but also General Kelanus. Kelanus stood in reserve, but both men are now heading west."

  Silmarila looked shocked and Zenepha nodded.

  "Perhaps we should have given Kestan the command for Trenvera," said the sylph.

  "I doubt if it would have made any difference," replied Mikhan. "Kelanus was determined all along to take the entire army west. I'd hoped giving him the eastern command might temper his view some."

  "So Trenvera stands unprotected," said Silmarila. "I did not think Kelanus a stupid man."

  "The report says he sent a detachment of men to the Trenveran border to report any invasion," admitted Mikhan. "The only good thing he has done. And there are plenty of scouts to pass messages in good time. But if he heads too far west, there's nothing he can do if the Re Taurans land."

  "Any news of that?" asked Silmarila, quietly.

  "Nothing," admitted Mikhan. "No more reports from Taura either. And nothing from the men we sent there. We must assume that they are captured or dead."

  Zenepha's earpoints wilted. "I hope not. Neptarik is a friend."

  Mikhan refrained from pointing out that even friends died in war. He did not particularly care for sylph s
couts, no matter how impressive their skills. Their sighting reports and directions had caused deaths in Branad Vintner's army, which included many of his friends.

  "I cannot get hold of Marcus," added Mikhan. "He is probably behind this disregard for orders."

  Silmarila shook her head as Zenepha glanced at her. "Why would he?" she asked. "Calcan is as much at risk as Sandester and Trenvera from an invasion."

  "Perhaps because Marcus is very open and Kelanus very persuasive," replied Mikhan.

  "We'll have to interview him." Silmarila shrugged, but she looked unconvinced.

  Mikhan stared at her. "Of the eastern lands, Calcan is the least likely to be invaded," he said.

  The gwerin's earpoints rose as her eyes widened. "You think? Logically, Calcan is equally likely to be the target as Trenvera. Sandester is well inland with plenty of time to react to any invasion. Also, the southernmost prefecture – Maturia – is the only one with a coastline on the Bay of Plenty. Calcan stands on the Bay of Plenty and, while not itself a port, it is certainly surrounded by ports. Trenvera and Calcan are the easiest cities to capture; Sandester the most difficult."

  Mikhan's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth, but the gwerin spoke over him.

  "Re Taura wants to attack the mainland either to seize a greater share of the Bay of Plenty trade, or build her own empire along the coast. Both actions are against Marka's interests, but either way Calcan faces an equal danger." She smiled. "Which means Marcus has a greater interest than you that Kelanus obeys his original orders."

  "Marcus's greatest interest is taking the Throne," countered Mikhan. "Everything he does has that aim in mind. Everything. I'm surprised you don't see that for yourself."

  Silmarila nodded. "He still would not sacrifice his own lands," she replied. "Kelanus is the man who wants to put Marka first."

  "A strange way to put Marka first," countered Mikhan. "Disregarding orders smacks of slack discipline." He turned back to Zenepha. "Majesty, there is worse."

  Zenepha and Silmarila stared.

  "I sent orders to Treylfor and Indelgar and it took three hours for an answer to return."

  "So?" Zenepha looked puzzled.

  "It means they are further away from Marka than they ought to be," replied Mikhan. "I asked for their location."

  "And?" Silmarila's voice was quiet.

  "They are well out on the Western March," said Mikhan. "Almost to the border."

  "So the south is unprotected," breathed Zenepha.

  "That's right, Majesty."

  "What has gone wrong?" asked Silmarila.

  Mikhan's attention switched to the gwerin. "Kelanus has sent orders through the sylphs," he replied. "Which means he intended all along to ignore your orders."

  "Kelanus has always said the Eldovans were the main threat," said Zenepha.

  Mikhan shook his head. "What will you do about him? At the very least, he should be removed from command."

  Zenepha did not even glance at Silmarila. That alone should have worried Mikhan, but he barely noticed. "If Kelanus is right, he will be rewarded."

  "He has disobeyed his orders. That might be treason," said Mikhan.

  "If he is wrong, he will be executed." Zenepha sighed. "That is if any of us survive his error."

  "Assuming it is an error," murmured Silmarila.

  ***

  As always happens, word crept out that Kelanus had refused to follow orders. Mikhan wanted to discover who had spread the rumor, but as his adjutant pointed out, so many had handled the message it would be impossible to establish the leak's precise source. Though the fully trained sylph scouts were discreet, the partly trained might have spoken out of turn.

  But Mikhan had his suspicions concerning the leak and it did not involve sylph scouts, part trained or otherwise.

  Zenepha summoned Marcus Vintner, meeting him together with Mikhan Annada and Silmarila. A small group, an informal meeting, with only one sylph present to serve alovak. Jenn sulked as she had to wait for her owner outside the room.

  Mikhan laid the message before Marcus. The claimant scanned it quickly, face impassive. He had already seen it for the scouts copied every message to him as standard procedure.

  "Well?" demanded Mikhan.

  "Well what?" Marcus's dark blue eyes flashed with irritation.

  "Care to explain why your general decided to disobey orders?"

  "My general?" Marcus snorted. "He served you for longer than me. I suggest you're in a better position to explain his actions. You know him best."

  The small infertile passed around the table and poured alovak. Her earpoints were slightly wilted; she knew she should not be hearing this conversation.

  Zenepha smiled at her. "Thank you, Nata, you may go. Return in ten minutes."

  The sylph dropped a quick curtsey. She mumbled something and fled.

  "What I – we – want to know," continued Mikhan, "is whether Kelanus follows our orders, or only yours."

  "Is that an accusation?" It took some effort for Marcus to keep his hand away from his sword hilt.

  "Yes," replied Mikhan, "it is."

  Silmarila made a shushing motion with her hands. "Gentlemen, calm please. We want to establish the truth, not cause duels."

  The two humans glared at each other.

  "What Kelanus does on the ground is up to him," said Marcus. "Remember that I agreed with his orders when he received them."

  "Pah." Mikhan made a pushing movement with both his hands.

  "You doubt my word?" Marcus grew angrier.

  "You agreed with the man all along. We had a hard struggle getting you to agree with our assessment. You would sacrifice your own lands if it gained you the thrice-damned Throne." Mikhan refused to be diverted.

  Marcus leaned forward. "The Throne is mine by right of battle," he countered. "It wasn't me who wrecked everything by committing murder. And if you think I would abandon my people in Calcan, or my people in Trenvera, or my people in Sandester, then think again."

  "You might think of Sandesterans as yours, but they do not," said Mikhan.

  "I could not care less what they think," snarled Marcus. "Only about what they are. Whatever you and Nazvasta are plotting between you, Branad ceded Sandester to me."

  "Until the Senate decided different," countered Mikhan.

  Marcus noted that his comment about plots went ignored by the Marshal. A confirmation of sorts.

  Zenepha made to speak, but sat back at a warning glance from Silmarila.

  "The Throne is mine. So why risk it? Why would I tell Kelanus to ignore orders?"

  Mikhan shrugged. "The Senate's decision is what's important, not your claim. My task is to see that Marka is safe."

  "And mine. And Kelanus sees it the same way, no matter how misguided he may or may not be concerning his orders. But I assure you of this: if Kelanus has disregarded orders, it is for his own reasons, not for any I've given him." Marcus shook his head. "No matter what he does, he can do no right as far as you people are concerned."

  Silmarila's dark brown eyes were expressionless as she watched the humans. Mikhan drained his alovak. Finally, she nodded and sat back. "Kelanus insisted even before he left Marka that his orders were wrong. He told anybody he could get hold of. You must be aware of that."

  "Of course I'm aware of it," replied Marcus. "He lobbied me to have them changed. But he didn't just put that pressure on me. Did he, Marshal Mikhan?"

  Mikhan shrugged. "I'm also concerned about the rumors flying about. It is common knowledge in the city that Kelanus has flouted his orders."

  "And naturally you immediately suspected me." Marcus's eyes flashed. "Every sylph in the city probably heard the whistle when it came in and every sylph scout will know what it meant. There are several hundred potential sources for rumors."

  "Nobody has forgotten that you are more politician than warrior," Mikhan pointed out. "You play your own game here."

  "I don't have to listen to this from you." Marcus turned to Zenepha and Silmarila
. "Unless you can think of other reasons where I gain by Kelanus ignoring his orders, is this meeting at an end?"

  "You may go, Marcus Vintner," replied Zenepha.

  ***

  Councilor Brendin Jendran saw the end of his ambitions looming. Very likely the end of his life, too. Captain Crallin and Lieutenant Patisk sat opposite. He looked the commander of the City Guard in the eye and hoped no hint of fear showed on his face.

  "So you see, Captain, I have been on a secret mission to root out the treason that has infested our city for so long. I am no traitor."

  "Really." Crallin managed to smile. "Only two people in Marka dole out secret missions and you're looking at one of them. And I talk to the other. I'm afraid the time for games is over. We can prove your treason in court."

  Brendin filed away the snippet of a second person in Marka who set secret missions. Who might he be? "The courts might not agree with you, Captain."

  Crallin shrugged. "We might be unable to guarantee a hanging perhaps, but there is plenty here to embarrass you and your family. But I suppose that doesn't bother you in the slightest."

  "If you're trying to shame me, then save your breath." Brendin smiled.

  Crallin clasped his hands together, pursed his lips and nodded. "Yes, that's often the way with traitors. Not only do they not care for their homeland, but they do not care much for family or personal honor, either. The courts might not sentence you to death, but your own family or that of your wife might decide to take matters into their own hands."

  Brendin's smile stayed in place, but he said nothing.

  "They might decide to bribe your guards and slip something into your food." Crallin spread his hands. "Of course, I cannot condone such corruption and seek to eradicate it wherever found, but people's feelings do run high with traitors. And who can forget those who opened the gates during the siege?"

  Brendin's smile slipped. "That had nothing to do with me."

  "Of course not." It was Crallin's turn to smile. "But people do have a terrible, terrible habit of believing rumor. After being found guilty, I guess your life expectancy would be, oh, perhaps a week. And some poisons take so long to take effect and leave their victim in agony for hours, if not days. So unlike a quick hanging or beheading. Not that you're likely to face the rope or headsman's sword, of course. We haven't got enough on you for that, as you keep reminding me. Did I mention that some poisons are messy too? So humiliating to end your life that way."

  Brendin's eyes narrowed.

  "Few wealthy families can stand the stain on their honor of a traitor allowed to live. They will act. Your wife's family certainly."