Markan Empire

  "What is it you want?"

  Crallin sat back and steepled his fingers before him. He glanced at Patisk and back to Brendin again. "We want you to continue as if nothing has happened."

  "What?" For the first time, Brendin looked startled.

  Crallin smiled. "We want you to carry on in the Supreme Council and continue to run your network of agents as before."

  Brendin blinked.

  "You can even recruit more."

  Brendin's mouth dropped open.

  "But." Crallin's eyes held a predatory gleam.

  Brendin recovered his composure and nodded. "There is always one of those," he said.

  "Any new recruits must already be in favor of your treason. No turning loyal people. No blackmailing or threats. If that means no more new recruits, then so be it."

  Brendin nodded acceptance.

  "All your reports come to me, before you report to whoever your superior is."

  Brendin nodded again. "She might guess. That will be a death sentence for me once she finds out."

  Crallin give a sideways nod of his head that might even have been sympathetic. "Perhaps you should have thought of that before turning traitor in the first place," he countered. "Who is she?"

  Brendin sighed and looked away for a moment. "She calls herself Nicolfer," he said. "Though I doubt if she's the Nicolfer."

  "Perhaps not." Crallin's face gave nothing away. "Either way, you report to me first."

  "All right."

  "Before you leave here, you will furnish me with a list of all your existing agents. Before you recruit a new one, you bring me the name."

  "Understood." Brendin had the grace to look embarrassed for a moment. "There is the, ah, question of remuneration."

  Crallin smiled. Greed was often a motivator for these people. "Your remuneration is that you keep your miserable skin."

  "At considerable risk," pointed out Brendin.

  "Then be very careful. Any hint of further wrongdoing and I'll burn you myself. Is that clear, Councilor?"

  Brendin sighed. "Perfectly clear, Captain."

  ***

  "I do hope this will not be a repeat of last year," said Zandra. "Ever since we arrived in Marka, Kelanus has brought nothing but trouble."

  Marcus chuckled. "Don't forget he won the war for us. All our problems are thanks to the Sandesterans and their mistrust of him."

  "They were quick to blame you again."

  Marcus and Zandra relaxed in their sitting room, discussing the events Kelanus had triggered. For once not trying to grab all his attention, Jenn sat on the floor at Marcus's feet. Her head leaned against one of his legs, but she made no attempt to seize attention. She had served alovak, now she waited further orders.

  "If they find that letter," continued Zandra, "you'll be blamed."

  Marcus shrugged. "If everything goes right – assuming Kelanus is right – it will be irrelevant. We'll have scored the points. Despite everything, it looks like Kelanus modified his own plan."

  "How?"

  "He's sent a detachment with scouts to Trenvera's border and ensured there are enough for him to send messages quickly. It's how Mikhan learned of the battle in the first place." Marcus shook his head. "Kelanus was right; the Sandesterans are more concerned about Sandester than Marka. They'll be trouble when we gain the Throne."

  "What will you do?"

  "Ignore them as far as possible. Young Verdin is the key to Sandester."

  Zandra smiled. She must remember that her husband rarely needed to have everything pointed out. "Then you'd better make sure he stays on board."

  Marcus laughed. "I know what he wants and he knows who is best placed to grant it."

  Zandra nodded and pulled the subject back. "I doubt if Kelanus's disobedience will be shouted from the rooftops to the people," she said, "but those rumors will not be stopped easily."

  She looked at Jenn, but the sylph's eyes were half-closed. That meant she pretended to pay no attention. Zandra knew better.

  "All we can do now is wait and see," sighed Marcus. "Let us pray that Kelanus is right."

  Zandra smiled. "Assuming he is, we gain a huge advantage, but keep an eye open for unintended consequences."

  Marcus grimaced. "There are always those," he agreed, "and not all of them good." He patted Jenn's head, more to comfort himself than the sylph. He considered his words. "Almost never good," he added.

  ***

  Marcus Vintner entered Morran Fynn's office. The spacious chamber looked very lived in, despite the lack of beds.

  "Good morning to you, Majesty." Morran stood behind his desk and bowed his head.

  As Marcus stood in the doorway, Morran's desk crouched on his right, while to his left an imposing fireplace took up almost the entire wall. No fire burned there now spring had turned to summer, but a sylph lay curled up on the rug before it.

  He felt certain that sylph was not asleep. The chairs arrayed before the desk were arranged so anyone sat there had his back to the fire. Where he could be observed unseen by the sylph.

  Morran smiled and folded his hands. "To what do we owe this honor?"

  Marcus cut his eyes toward the sylph and back to Morran again.

  The spymaster took the hint. "Smudge!"

  The sylph immediately sat up and her earpoints twitched. In this light, the dark birthmark on her face looked like a shadow.

  "Alovak, if you please," said Morran.

  Smudge stood. "Se bata." She inclined her head to Marcus and waited for him to move aside. She closed the door as she left.

  "What troubles Your Majesty?" Morran smiled and waited for Marcus to take a chair. The men sat at the same time.

  "Our people in Re Taura are ominously silent," said Marcus. "Kelanus assumes there will be no invasion and has taken most of the army further west than perhaps he should. I grow concerned."

  Morran steepled his fingers and leaned on his elbows. "No news is good news. We've received no protest from the Re Tauran authorities. As for Kelanus... well, my understanding is that he believes an invasion from the east is a diversion."

  "What do you believe?"

  Morran smiled. "That our people are working diligently and making every effort to discover the truth."

  "They might be dead," said Marcus. "That would add to my problems if so."

  "All were volunteers," pointed out Morran. "Your view is bleak."

  "Have you heard anything?"

  Morran shook his head.

  Marcus looked into the other man's pale blue eyes for a long moment. He would not be surprised if the man had other spies in Re Taura.

  The silence ended as Smudge returned with the alovak. The sylph poured for the two men and glanced at her rug before the fireplace.

  "A question for you, Smudge," said Morran.

  The infertile waited.

  "His Majesty fears our spies in Re Taura might be dead. Care to add your impressions?"

  Amusement flickered across Smudge's face as she saw the look on Marcus's face.

  "You involve Smudge?" he asked.

  "Your sylphs speak freely," countered Morran, "as does mine."

  Smudge gave Marcus a tolerant look.

  Marcus waved a dismissive hand. "Of course. Continue."

  "Unlikely they are dead," said Smudge. "Either winding up their work, or traveling back to Marka with information."

  "You seem certain," said Marcus. He sipped at his alovak.

  Smudge nodded. "Verdin-ya and Balnus-ya are tough, capable men. And Neptarik is... impressive." The sylph smiled. "All three have exercised caution, which is why it has taken longer for them to report than others might like."

  And that's me told off, reflected Marcus.

  "Even so, I need answers," he insisted. "Zenepha and Mikhan Annada grow suspicious of my motives. If Kelanus has gambled wrong, not even I can save his neck."

  Morran grimaced. "Kelanus must look after himself, but I believe the invasion will happen, or at least be attempted. It is intended as
a diversion, but that makes it no less dangerous. Marka cannot afford to have powerful enemies west and east."

  "Then we had better trust our people report or return soon," said Marcus. He drained his alovak. "Or we are all in trouble."

  ***

  Olista inhaled the alovak's aroma, eyes half-closed. Silmarila sipped at her water and watched silently. Since her alliance with Olista, they now shared all their information.

  "Something is going on between Marcus and Kelanus," she said. "Marcus knows more than he's letting on, though I doubt he is actually lying."

  "Marcus is a man of integrity," said Olista. "He cannot openly abandon his prefectures to an enemy, but neither will he sacrifice Marka for them. Perhaps he feels only Marka is the true target."

  "A very risky strategy," countered the gwerin. "If the coastal prefectures fall to Re Taura, Marka is threatened."

  "Perhaps Kelanus feels he must secure the Western March before he can deal with the Re Taurans." Olista smiled. "Eldovans are experienced in warfare, the Re Taurans less so. Therefore the Eldovans are the greater threat to our security."

  Silmarila grimaced. Having no wish to display her ignorance of military matters, she said nothing to that. "Why didn't they return home after losing their leader?"

  "They don't believe they've lost him," replied Olista. "As far as I know, the Eldovans with Hingast when he died were all captured or killed. None are still with the army out west."

  "What do you believe?"

  Olista shrugged. "This is a strange world. I don't know what to make of it. Without information, everything is guesswork. Do the Re Taurans really intend to invade the mainland? How much of the anger directed at Kelanus is a leftover from last year? The man remains unpopular with the Sandesterans. After all, they lost their claim thanks to Kelanus."

  "After they had dispensed with his services," murmured Silmarila. "People often blame others for their own failures."

  Olista smiled. "The Sandesterans recognize it was a mistake to dismiss him, and blame him for that dismissal. He even cleared his name, but that counts for so little in some quarters."

  Silmarila shrugged. "The Eldovans and Re Taurans are working in concert. Kelanus is right about that."

  "Then we had best hope he takes the battle to them, rather than wait for an attack," countered Olista. "If there is an invasion from the sea, we must meet it."

  "Still, the problem of Trenvera remains. They're not under Marka's protection. They might suspect we are in league with Re Taura."

  Olista nodded. "If Trenvera is the target. It makes the most sense. If the Calcans move to support Trenvera, the Sandesterans will mistrust their motives; if the Sandesterans move to protect Trenvera, the Calcans will think the same. If we help Trenvera, all three suspect our motives."

  "A conundrum to which there is no answer," smiled Silmarila. "Despite what Zenepha thinks." She abruptly changed tack. "Who do you think commands the Eldovans?"

  "The rumors say Hingast, but he is dead. I saw him killed."

  The gwerin nodded acceptance. "But can we be really sure the man Marcus Vintner killed was Hingast?"

  "Don't start down that road. It's bad enough that the Eldovans believe he lives, without us starting to believe it too!"

  Silmarila managed a humorless smile. "You must admit the possibility. It explains why the Eldovans didn't break and head for home."

  "They were broken all right when they fled the city," countered Olista. "They couldn't make their minds up whether to face us inside the walls, or Kelanus outside. It turned into a rout once Hingast was dead."

  "If it was Hingast."

  Olista fixed the gwerin in a steely gaze. "It was Hingast."

  Silmarila spread her hands. "All right. Did you ever meet Hingast before he besieged Marka?"

  "Only met him the night he died," admitted Olista.

  "Then we must consider the possibility that the remains outside the gates are not those of Hingast. It is possible. Far more likely that the man still commands his armies than some strange magick, sorcery or gift is at work." Silmarila gave her companion a strong look. "We must consider it."

  A hint of a smile flickered around Olista's mouth. "I begin to understand why gwerins see so deeply," he said. "You even consider things you don't want to believe."

  "An advisor cannot have wishes," she replied. "An advisor must use cold logic to look at every problem and deal only with facts. She must be dispassionate."

  Olista nodded.

  "Fact: the Eldovan Army believes it is led by Hingast. They recognize the man as being Hingast.

  "Fact: the Eldovans have not broken and run for home. That means their command structure remains intact. The head was not cut from the chicken.

  "Fact: the Eldovans remain disciplined and coherent. They are massing and ready for a fresh attack.

  "Fact: they have an ally in Re Taura. This relationship did not come into being in twelve months, so must have been nurtured even before the Eldovans besieged Marka. So the Re Taurans also believe they deal with Hingast.

  "Fact: nobody here had met Hingast before the siege, so nobody here can definitively say that they saw Hingast's body.

  "Conclusion: the man commanding the Eldovans is, most likely, Hingast."

  Olista stared, mouth open.

  "We will work on that assumption." Silmarila smiled. "We may still be wrong. A very good imposter might actually be in charge. But for a man's double to also possess all the same skills is remote."

  "What about sorcery?"

  "Possible," admitted Silmarila. "But which do you think is more likely?"

  Olista finally nodded acceptance.

  ***

  Councilor Brendin Jendran sorted through his papers. Most could go. He stared regretfully at the letters-of-right. Potentially a lot of gold, but he'd be tracked if he used them, so they went onto the fire. Correspondence with other traitors followed. The study grew hotter, and he began to sweat.

  He'd been snared in a trap of his own making, so it was up to him to smash it. He looked around and sighed in regret. Such a pity to leave everything behind. Not that he had much choice.

  If – when! – Nicolfer caught up with him, that would be his doom. He had no idea how she might kill him, but knew she would be very imaginative. If he did not report to his new employers, they would ensure his shame and, as threatened, see him disposed of by his wife's family.

  Damned both ways.

  Everything he owned must burn. He knew what would happen the moment Crallin learned he had fled. A price on his head and bounty hunters on his trail. One of whom was renowned. For a successful escape, he must evade Sallis ti Ath, assuming Captain Crallin sent him. Brendin knew he might spend the rest of his life fearing a phantom.

  Where to go and how to escape?

  The villa and everything in it must burn. Quite how Sallis ti Ath tracked his prey Brendin did not understand, but suspected it was related in some way to scent. Everything he owned, everything he had touched or worn, must go.

  He must get all his possessions out of Coronation Hall. Wife and children must be out of the villa when it burned. It could not burn until he was gone, which meant someone he trusted must torch it.

  How to get out of Marka? New clothes, a disguise. A farmer's cart, something like that.

  How to pay for it all? No doubt Crallin or one of his people watched his depository, or else it had received instructions to inform the authorities if he withdrew gold.

  Which meant he must use his other bank, the one his wife and – hopefully – the Markan authorities knew nothing about. But would he arouse the suspicion of the other people he worked for by suddenly withdrawing all that gold? Nothing like an empty vault to show a man intended running.

  Frequent small withdrawals were the obvious answer, but Brendin did not have time for that. He must take the risk. But such a shame to leave all his honestly earned money behind.

  Where to go? He must start with that and work backwards. South looked good. T
he Imperial Republic, or beyond? That should be far enough to escape Crallin's clutches and there was little chance Enthan Vintner would capitulate to the new Markan Empire any time soon.

  He regretted his lack of contacts so far south, but he could begin again. A fresh start was usually best.

  An overland journey, or take a ship? The obvious place to take a ship was Cadister, and Crallin's agents there would be watching for him.

  So a ship from one of the smaller ports. Or perhaps from the Bay of Plenty.

  But the overland journey sounded better and if he had problems getting his gold, the cheaper option, too. It would take longer and he ran a higher risk of a hunter catching up with him, but there were more escape routes overland.

  So long as he avoided clashes between the armies milling around Marka. But they would also delay any hunt.

  A disguise to get out of the city. And a way to get to his honest gold. After all, he had earned that too. But greed had cost more than one man his freedom and life. Such a pity he had no contacts in the bank he could use. An oversight he would correct when he rebuilt his life anew.

  Brendin paced up and down his study, thinking and planning.

  To stay in Marka meant death.

  ***

  Chapter 26

  Familiar Lands

  Belaika shifted his grip on the banner pole. The dragon's head banner hung limply from the cross-spear, with insufficient wind to fill it. He glanced at the Shadow Riders' banner, the black silk hiding two silver dragon's heads facing each other. Theirs was allowed to swim free, rather than suspended from a spear, and in the still air it only showed hints of silver on the otherwise unrelieved black.

  Fared had offered a horse, but the sylph preferred to walk. Refusing it, he told Fared that his legs were good enough. Belaika often surrendered the banner to Lance Sergeant Toman, the senior survivor of Dekran's men. He even tried to hand the banner to Toman permanently, but the older campaigner shook his head.

  "You have the right," he protested.

  "You had the courage to pick it up," added Fared. "Now, you are the bannerman."

  Belaika scowled, but stopped trying to surrender this duty. An honor yes, but the bannerman was also a target.

  He attracted plenty of visitors at rest stops.

  Belaika's elevated status among the humans meant nothing to his brother scouts and they treated him no differently. The near scout – usually Fhionnen or Samel – always came to chat. They often had questions; after all, he had been the most experienced scout until his capture.