 
Markan Throne

An Ilvenworld Novel

by

Nicholas A. Rose

Copyright 2011 Nicholas A. Rose

Smashwords Edition

Cover: Joleene Naylor

Editor: Stephanie Dagg

Book One of the Markan Empire Trilogy

Novel Length

Also in the Markan Empire Trilogy:

Markan Empire

Markan Sword

Novella Length

The Gifted Trilogy:

Gifted Apprentice

Gifted Hunter

Gifted Avenger

***
Table of Contents

Chapter 1 – Marching To Marka

Chapter 2 – Jewel Of The World

Chapter 3 – A Throne Recognized

Chapter 4 – Zenepha's Day Off

Chapter 5 – Roads To Marka

Chapter 6 – Murder

Chapter 7 – Escape

Chapter 8 – Running

Chapter 9 – Riding South

Chapter 10 – Plots

Chapter 11 – Manumission

Chapter 12 – Ilven And Gwerin

Chapter 13 – Flying Cloud

Chapter 14 – Beshar

Chapter 15 – Kytra

Chapter 16 – Siege

Chapter 17 – First Blood

Chapter 18 – Reprisal

Chapter 19 – Hejiller

Chapter 20 – Truth Will Out

Chapter 21 – The Wraiths Attack

Chapter 22 – Treachery

Chapter 23 – A General Once More

Chapter 24 – Marka Must Live

Chapter 25 – The Duel

Epilogue – Reward
**Chapter 1**

Marching To Marka

Belaika shivered in the predawn gloom and stared up at the heavens, mouth open with wonder at the display of shooting stars. While his silvery gray eyes were turned upward, his earpoints twitched as he waited for the whistle that must come, informing him of the intentions of his master's enemies.

Other sounds came from behind, where the army readied itself for battle. He shivered again, this time not from cold. Although an army scout, subject to the same discipline as all other soldiers, he did not like battles. His kind were scouts and messengers, and not expected to fight.

Pitched too high for human hearing, the sharp whistle reached Belaika and he stiffened, stretching up to his full height to acknowledge it with his own whistle. He trotted through the outer row of wooden stakes, twisting his way between the defenses and heard the whistle repeated as scouts relayed the message to the flank camps.

Most soldiers acknowledged him as he passed. He returned their greetings with nods and smiles. Infantrymen formed up before the earth bank and small detachments of mounted cavalry were behind them, all in full view of the approaching enemy. Behind the earth bank stood the war machines: ballistae and huge mangonels.

He reached the yeoman. " _Donenya_ , I heard," he said.

"How far?" asked the yeoman.

"Five milas, closing." He gave the rest of the message.

The yeoman nodded. "Go and tell the boss," he said.

" _Se bata_."

As he turned away, soldiers lifted a hopper full of spears and positioned it on the ballista. Along the rank of ballistae, more men did the same. The green fire had been prepared the night before, but the huge cauldrons were not yet lit. The bombardiers hated green fire: they said the only thing worse than handling it was having it land on you. The throwing arm of the last mangonel was now being hauled down, so it could not be seen until too late. These war machines – although in one line – were three ranks, each with a corresponding row of marker posts in the field, masquerading as advance stakes. All the mangonels had been ranged the previous day, pins locking the throwing arms into their respective ranges, and colored boards attached to each machine to tell the bombardiers which stood in which rank. Red for the first – or furthest – markers, white for the second and blue for the third. The men already positioned at the advance stakes had orders to turn and run, lulling the enemy into a false sense of security. They wanted him to believe he faced just a small force, not the full army.

Joining the paved road on which the army was camped, Belaika began to run, only slowing as he approached his master's large tent. Orders were shouted, repeated over and over as the yeoman did his work. Despite being well known to the guards outside, he was challenged at this tent.

"Akram," he said.

"Pass." The guard nodded and relaxed the spear that had been leveled against Belaika's chest, more for show than real threat. The guard winked at the scout. "He's awake."

Belaika nodded and pushed through the tent flap. He doubted if many had slept well.

" _Enya_ ," he began, "they are five milas away, coming fast. They move one mila every fifteen minutes, but their war machines are five milas further back, moving one mila every twenty-five minutes. The yeoman knows."

Marcus Vintner, allegedly descended from the first Mark and claimant to the vacant Markan Throne, looked up from his map. Light crystals provided plenty of light in the center of the otherwise dim tent. As the canvas partition that normally screened off a sleeping area was tied back, Belaika glimpsed untouched bedding, for Marcus had slept with his head on his arm at the map table. Belaika stood a little taller than his owner, his appearance more striking thanks to the gray, green and brown skin paint that covered his body, with vivid slashes of black across face and chest. Despite this, Marcus had the real presence. Belaika's silvery gray eyes, cat-slit black pupils narrowed against the brightness of the tent's interior, and his pointed ears betrayed his race and hence his status.

The smile Marcus directed at his sylph was, however, genuine and warm. "Good." He pushed dark hair away from dark blue eyes. "Ask Kelanus to join me."

The sylph paused, toying with the black leather collar about his neck. "They come as you predicted."

Marcus's smile broadened and his eyes sparkled. "This is the only road to Marka from the north." He stroked his chin, thinking aloud. "Even so, Branad won't expect us to be waiting for him here. What about the rest of them?"

Belaika shook his head. "Too far away still." A thought struck him and his earpoints twitched. "The shooting stars. Did you see?"

"I have seen them before. Go to Kelanus. I need him here."

" _Se bata_." Belaika bobbed a quick bow and ducked back out of the tent.

Marcus reached for the still steaming cup of alovak and savored its distinctive odor before sipping the black liquid. It might be his last. His personal sylph – Jenn – had served breakfast hours before. She should now be with the nurses, ready to help with bandages and equipment.

Today would decide who reached Marka first. Shivering, he fancied destiny walked beside him. Today should be decisive. Before he could restore Marka to her rightful place he must end the civil war between the various claimants.

He looked up as his general, Kelanus Butros, with Belaika close behind, entered the tent. The real military leader had just walked in: Marcus knew he was just the claimant to the throne and a figurehead. He had learned military tactics as a child, but Kelanus knew war. He had served Marcus for two years, after being dismissed by Branad. A decision his rival might rue today.

Kelanus stood beside the map. "Too late for looking at that now," he remarked, bass rumble resonating in Marcus's chest. "Word should have already reached the other camps."

Marcus grinned, knowing how that had been achieved. The sylphs had suggested that they could be used as scouts even before he had taken over from his father and, together with professional military scouts, he had begun a training program fifteen years ago. That program had changed beyond all recognition since.

They had originally intended using the sylphs as messengers, as their hearing range was better than that of any human. This meant they could whistle messages to each other without threat of interception. Nobody initially realized that these sylphs would soon replace humans in the role of scout. There were now in excess of three hundred sylph scouts who had proved their worth over and over. Many were here, but a few were scattered throughout his lands, serving the small detachments of the army dotted about.

Kelanus had at first doubted the sylphs' value, but misgivings soon evaporated and he proved an enthusiastic convert. Now he would never think of using any but sylphs for scouting. Not only was a sylph's hearing far superior to a human's, but also their eyesight. They could see as well as cats in the dark. Kelanus's only regret was that sylphs were too pacific to be warriors as well. But this would have broken ancient precepts concerning sylphs and warfare.

Marcus's thoughts turned back to the plan. His opposite number and distant cousin, Branad, marched on Marka from the north and, as both men knew the other was invited to Marka, he doubtless expected a delaying attack somewhere along the way. Nobody knew what game Marka's Supreme Council played, but it was obvious the two rival claimants would meet sooner or later and that the outcome would be bloody.

"He's coming to meet you," said Kelanus, "and leaving his war machines further and further behind. Branad will launch straight into the attack when he makes contact."

"Just cavalry and mounted archers?"

"And some infantry. Branad is not so big a fool as to believe only cavalry wins battles."

Marcus wondered who had taught Branad that; he rather suspected that man stood in the tent with him right now.

Kelanus continued. "So long as we appear to fight defensively, he'll swallow the bait. He always does. When he realizes war machines are here, he'll push forward even faster to avoid the worst they can offer. That's common sense and gives us a further advantage: he'll leave his infantry behind."

"Makes life easier for the snatch squads." Marcus could not restrain a shiver at the mention of the new snatch squads. These were men trained to dart through a battle and capture the enemy leader directly.

"You wanted Branad captured rather than killed outright." The inventor of those snatch squads narrowed his eyes. His tone hinted that "killed outright" was the wiser option. "Snatching him is the only way I can think of. Even then, there is no guarantee of success."

"What _I_ want," retorted Marcus, "is minimum bloodshed. This so-called civil war has dragged on long enough."

He fumbled for his gold necklace and stared lovingly at the miniature of his wife painted and enameled on it. The less killing the better. Like his own, Branad's army had always acted honorably. It had never pillaged its way across the countryside, nor had it caused any more damage than could be avoided. Branad and Marcus had embarked on charm offensives to win people to their point of view. Marcus wanted to win both armies and both sets of people.

However, Marcus had seen enough battles to know that once the fighting started, anything could wreck the best plan. And there was a further complication.

"Why has Branad divided his army?"

Kelanus smiled. "Ranallic's idea, I suspect." The General tapped the map. "Perhaps part of his plan for when he reaches Marka. Or to search for the rest of our army. No doubt there are hundreds of little known ways to Marka through the forest, where we might be hidden."

"We are all here."

"Let's hope Branad doesn't know that. At least, not until it's too late."

"And if he has a Gifted one in his ranks?"

Kelanus shrugged. "The sylphs have given no warning of sudden changes in direction. I assume they _are_ still in contact?"

Belaika narrowed his eyes and his earpoints slanted forward.

A scowl briefly crossed Marcus's brow. "Once they find something the size of an army, they don't lose it again. Belaika assures me they are headed the other way."

"All right, I trust the scouts; I learned my lesson about that some time ago."

Belaika wore a satisfied expression, while giving the impression he was not really eavesdropping. He settled back on his heels again.

Marcus continued. "We can't risk having that army swing round to cut us off, or join with Branad."

"They cannot reach us today. If they change course, the sylphs will give warning. Concentrate on what is in front of us for now and worry about the rest another time. It is the only way a soldier can deal with these things."

Marcus wanted this war over and done with; he was a politician, not a warrior. He stared glumly at the map table.

"You'd better get ready," suggested Kelanus. "It'll begin sooner than you think."

Marcus nodded and turned away. Once again, he pulled his gold necklace free to stare at the image of his wife. He took strength from it, imagining he could breathe her scent.

_Whatever happens, fight with honor._ He recalled his father's words, the ones Zandra repeated whenever he left her for the field. He brushed his lips gently across the miniature before tucking it under his shirt again. As Marcus left the tent, Belaika drew himself upright and followed his master.

As usual when not scouting, the sylph felt he was underfoot as he scurried after Marcus, the claimant strapping on his sword and what little was left to don of his armor. Stablehands had already prepared Jablon, Marcus's warhorse, and the animal stamped a foot in greeting. The sylph regarded the horse warily. Sylphs did not feel happy around large animals at the best of times, and this one was trained to hurt. Jablon liked to go in with his head and shoulders, all of which were armored accordingly, complete with lethal spikes.

The Imperial Bannerman – Adrewa – waited while Marcus mounted. He carried the Vintner Standard: a gold dragon's head on a dark blue field. Belaika shivered as Marcus and the bannerman joined the rest of the army and a cheer went up.

Marcus acknowledged it with a wave of his gauntleted hand. Kelanus joined them and the army formed up. The reserve units remained behind, while the rest moved slowly downhill along the road. They gave the appearance of reinforcing the forward units, where Belaika had earlier waited for the signal. Those manning the mangonels and ballistae added their voices to the cheers; pikemen and archers looked up from their work, but remained silent.

As the army came to a halt amid the jingling of harness and armor, the cheering stopped and an eerie silence descended. Even the birds were quiet. Saddles and leather creaked as the waiting began.

Belaika's breath came in short gasps as he fought fear. His earpoints already lay back in his hair and felt as though they were about to tuck themselves away. A few sylph scouts remained behind the barricades, none so far forward, or so exposed. Most were beyond the barricades, eyes and ears open for any surprise moves. They would be as afraid as he was.

He glanced quickly into his master's face. The dark blue eyes were calm, face still and relaxed, exuding confidence and optimism. No fear to be seen there, nor in any of the human faces. Yet Belaika knew the humans _were_ frightened, that they feared death as surely as any other animal. They were just so much better than sylphs at hiding feelings and emotions. Their faces hid fear as war helmets hid hair.

"Stand close, Belaika."

The sylph nodded, though he needed no reminders of his duty. It felt safe behind the stockade, beyond the range of enemy arrows and missiles. Belaika had enough experience to see that the enemy soldiers would be unable to get their war machines within range before Marcus deployed all three ranks of his own. For those who managed to get closer after the bombardment, there were archers with arrows of fire and pikemen with their bristling weapons. Belaika knew the enemy would be forced to close the range as quickly as possible, which would also play into his owner's hands.

Behind the stockade, light cavalry prepared their lances and armored cavalry readied their horses. Behind them stood infantry with short swords and shields. All were ready to leap out from behind the stockade, both to help defend the retreating squads of men intended to draw Branad ever further forward and to maintain the illusion of being the real reserve. Beyond the stockade, to either side on small hills, were small detachments of cavalry, to give the impression of waiting to fall on the enemy's flanks.

But, beyond the war machines which Branad would not see until too late, beyond the small detachments of men, stood the real army. Belaika scanned the hillsides. Thousands of men were hidden there and not even he could see a sign of them. They would push behind Branad's men, cut off their retreat and capture the opposing war machines. If everything went to plan.

Belaika sighed. All living creatures died eventually; he supposed this was as good a day to die as any other.

Without further warning, it began.

Belaika shivered at the rhythmic thrumming of spears and swords against shields.

Someone bawled, "First marker!" The ballistae launched their first salvo and the mangonels hurled rocks and green fire against the foe. He heard the first screams.

"They come exactly as we hoped."

The sylph stared up at his master. How could his voice be so calm? Was his heart not hammering against his chest? Did he not want to flee, to run and hide somewhere safe?

The light cavalry readied themselves, making final adjustments to their snowy pennons. Those strips of cloth at the lance ends would not remain pristine for long.

Behind, the ballistae and a few of the mangonels managed a second dispensation of death and destruction, or perhaps some of the throwing arms had not released properly earlier. Such things happened often.

"Second marker!"

Jablon snorted, as did many of the other horses. A moment later, Belaika also smelled the coppery stench of fresh blood. He kept his head down, knowing that the enemy was close now. He sensed, rather than heard, the missiles from the second rank of war machines pass overhead. The screams and cries were louder, nearer.

He dreaded the touch of his master, knowing he would want a message carried. He would take it if he must, but he was fully aware of the risks. His earpoints tucked away as screams and howls continued. Men and possibly even sylphs were dying out there and he didn't want to hear.

"Third marker!"

Belaika never heard the third rank of war machines launch their missiles, but he did hear the results of the salvo, pots containing green death bursting to shower men and animals with fire that could not be extinguished, flames that could not be escaped. Most men from the war machines now took up pikes, as did most archers. Yelling and shouting, light and heavy cavalry joined the fight. Time for hand-to-hand fighting: difficult, dangerous and bloody.

Still the reserve remained steady. Belaika glanced up every now and again, watching lines of wounded and groaning men headed towards the rear. Some had to be carried.

Since his master had taken over the army, there had been many changes to its organization. Now, laundresses, seamstresses, buyers, carters and officers' sylphs were all expected to help the nurses during a battle. Before Marcus, sylphs were never used by the military, except as servants for senior officers.

Belaika knew Jenn was somewhere back there. She always resented being more than two pacas away from Marcus, but even she had the sense to stay away from a battle. She would play her part with the nurses, well out of harm's way. Belaika was protective of the small infertile, although she had seen many more years than he had.

Marcus drew his sword.

The sylph shivered and very much wanted to be with Jenn.

From behind the hill, the reserve of infantry and cavalry drove forward, carrying with them the snatch squads, intended to capture the enemy commanders and – hopefully – Branad. Marcus touched his sylph's shoulder.

"We'll move forward with the banner to a new command post. Stand ready for messages."

" _Se bata_." Belaika prayed there would be no messages.

Now that battle was joined, it was unlikely that he would hear whistles from his brother scouts and equally unlikely that they could hear his properly. Knowing this, messages were kept to a minimum during a battle, but one that must be communicated had to be passed by physically moving from one place to another and whistling from there. Which might mean picking a way through the battle. He shivered.

The new command post stood between the original stockade and the third marker. Marcus stood in his stirrups and tried to see what Kelanus could see of the battlefield. His General's small army of messengers – these carried messages through battles all the time – did not contain a single sylph. Kelanus knew the blue-skinned creatures were of little use in a fight. Excellent scouts and nurses yes, but unable to defend themselves properly when weapons were used against them.

Marcus also ignored the spyglass that Kelanus used to survey the field. It was a sore point with the claimant that Sandester made the best lenses in the known world. All of Branad's officers had a spyglass; Kelanus had brought his with him when forced to change his allegiance. A useful tool, but Marcus avoided using it whenever possible.

The battle went much better than expected, as they still followed the original plan, itself a small miracle. Branad's advance was exactly as Kelanus had predicted: an advantage of employing his enemy's former commander. The reserve still thundered out, a terrifying sight for an army that had expected to fight only a small contingent. Branad's men were hemmed in.

Beyond, large detachments of Marcus's men battled for – if they had not already won – the enemy's war machines, left far behind as the rest of Branad's army advanced at speed. He glanced skywards, surprised to see the sun already approached its meridian: time always passed quickly when the blood ran hot.

Marcus stared at the battlefield again, grudging respect for his enemy turning to admiration as he saw how well the field was still held, despite being outnumbered and encircled. The opposing army was as well trained and disciplined as his own. Training and discipline kept men alive in battle and he hoped today would not be as bad a slaughter as he feared. He had plans for both Branad and his army. Kelanus would like to see the false claimant dead, but Marcus had a use for him yet. He certainly had a use for the lands he controlled, to say nothing of his army.

Marcus stiffened. Was that a sylph, darting through the struggling men? The news he carried must be pretty dire to take such a risk. Had they failed to take the enemy war machines? Had Branad sprung reinforcements that the sylphs had somehow failed to see before now?

The camouflaged scout headed directly for the command post, quickly arriving beside Kelanus, and the General bent his head to listen to the report. A thin line of blue, smudged at one end, betrayed the presence of a wound. It stood out against the sylph's painted skin.

Marcus restrained his impatience and tapped Belaika on the shoulder. "Who is that?"

"Neptarik- _y_ -Balnus," replied Belaika, able to recognize every scout, even under paint.

Marcus nodded. Neptarik was one of the first sylph scouts and had run with the army for ten years. Experienced, skilled and reputedly fearless. He loved adventure and gambling, traits no doubt copied from his owner. He was the first sylph to use _ebatela_ , the non-violent method of personal self-defense adopted even by some of the soldiers. And a rarity: a scout who belonged to a common soldier. Marcus recalled that magistrates had sent him to scout training as Neptarik had not always been honestly employed. The moment the sylph had gone, thankfully towards the rearguard, a messenger crossed to Marcus.

"Sire," began the messenger, "we have news of the rest of Branad's army. They have turned and are headed straight for us. If they keep on, they are little more than a day away."

"Probably the plan all along," muttered Marcus. He raised his voice. "Thank you, Felis. Anything else?"

Felis nodded. "There was more resistance than expected at the war machines. Their soldiers fought hard and well. We lost more men than expected, but we have the machines."

Marcus grimaced and dismissed the messenger. A large number of casualties – on either side – was precisely what he wanted to avoid. He swung out of his saddle as Felis hurried away. "Come, Belaika."

Kelanus turned as the claimant joined him and saw the unasked question in his eyes.

"We should have Branad defeated long before they can reach us," the General reassured his superior. "Unless they move faster than the sylphs say."

Belaika stiffened. This, he knew, was highly unlikely; the scouts knew their work and took great pride in getting their part right.

"The sylph who brought the news," said Marcus, "Neptarik. He is to be commended."

Kelanus nodded. "I will speak with his owner."

A huge cheer went up from the battlefield and the two commanders strained forward. Shouts from Marcus's men, repeated all over the battlefield. "Surrender and you will not be harmed. Surrender!" The shouts were gradually replaced by a growing yell, one word repeated over and over.

"Marcus! Marcus! Marcus!"

"It seems the snatch squads are successful," said Marcus. He and Kelanus exchanged a look.

The battle was over.

In accordance with their orders, Marcus's soldiers took prisoners and did not slaughter the defeated foe out of hand, the murderous practice followed by so many other claimants and thugs wishing to carve empires for themselves. Marcus knew that had the positions been reversed, Branad would have acted in the same honorable manner. The defeated claimant's army had never been accused of committing atrocities, but had always behaved professionally. As professionally as Marcus always insisted his own army behaved, even against those who would show no mercy had they won. This was why Marcus wanted Branad and his army. But even had he not needed them, he would still treat them with the respect they deserved.

Marcus could barely restrain himself as he saw a detachment of his best men, led by two sylph scouts, bring a prisoner. A man who even now held himself regally, despite dented and stained armor, with burnished overlapping plates at shoulder, elbow and knee. Although his surcoat flapped in the breeze, the Vintner Arms were clearly visible. The same as those worn by Marcus, except the dragon's head was on a pale blue field. The small coterie halted before Marcus and Kelanus.

"Now I know how my own tactics were used against me," said Branad Vintner, defeated claimant to the Imperial Throne of Marka. A small smile twisted his mouth as he stared at Kelanus.

Kelanus bowed. "Highness. Perhaps you erred when you dismissed my services? Is Ranallic with you, or were we fortunate to see him killed this morning?"

The smile broadened. "Unless he has fallen off his horse, he is alive, but not here."

"Pity." Kelanus could not hide the bitterness in his voice.

Branad's attention switched to Marcus.

"Greetings, cousin," he said.

***

Belaika crouched at the entrance to Marcus's tent. He glanced over his shoulder and masked a quick yawn. While his master bathed and changed his clothes, the scout nibbled on spring greens the thoughtful Jenn had provided. The soldiers who had earlier tidied the tent were now gone and only the guard remained outside. The tent's main room was ready for what might be the most important meeting of the civil war.

The sylph peered outside and shook his head. Captured soldiers were usually stripped of weapons and armor, but several prisoners openly cleaned their swords and axes. Admittedly, Branad's men were split into small groups and a large number of Marcus's men supervised them. Discreetly, of course. And there were no sounds of celebration, most unusual after a battle. It had turned into a strange day.

He rose to his feet as Marcus joined him and laid a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "Pining for Eleka?"

"Missing her, yes," replied the sylph. Eleka was his first – and so far only – wife.

"Still hoping for a son?"

"She says she carries one child." Belaika's eyes sparkled. Sylph males were always born individually, not in pairs or litters like the female and infertile sylphs.

"Good." Marcus smiled. "Then she will allow you another wife."

All of Belaika's children belonged to Marcus, but he allowed his sylphs a large degree of freedom, short of manumission.

"We'll reach Marka within the week and can send for our loved ones." He did not add that his own family had already left Calcan and the caravan would include Eleka.

"Another wife." Belaika nodded. He would gain more status when he had more than one wife, just as female sylphs gained more status by birthing a son. Eleka had given him twin girls and a litter of infertiles, but no son. As the first wife chose all subsequent wives – or at least had more say about them than her husband – he knew there was little chance of a second until Eleka had given him a son, cementing forever her position as senior wife.

Outside, the tent guard banged the butt of his spear on the ground.

"Ready, Belaika?"

They hurried further into the tent. Marcus lounged arrogantly in the largest seat and casually draped one leg across the chair arm. Belaika stood ready to serve alovak, already brewed.

Much to her disgust, and after a tantrum that wilted Belaika's earpoints, Jenn had retreated to the back of the tent. She must remain there until called, when she would serve sweetmeats if the meeting went well. Sulking, she hid in the small section of the tent allocated as her own private space. She gave the scout a small smile, to show she harbored no ill feeling towards him.

Mindful of her position within the strictly hierarchical sylph society, Jenn always treated everyone else as her superior. All other sylphs referred to her as an equal, the way Marcus spoke to her. Nobody wished to intimate that he was of lower status. Jenn had served Marcus faithfully for a quarter of a century and clearly resented being pushed aside now.

Kelanus's voice came from outside the tent and he spoke as if Marcus already held the Markan Throne. "Majesty, I present Branad Ulvic Vintner." He gave the defeated claimant no title. Kelanus pushed the tent flaps apart and escorted Marcus's rival inside.

"Very impressive, cousin," remarked Branad, as he glanced around the tent. Belaika earned a small, puzzled frown.

"Come and sit down," invited Marcus.

Three scribes followed Kelanus into the tent and they took their seats down one side, the map table now serving as their desk. Branad took a smaller chair opposite Marcus and Kelanus sat opposite the scribes.

This was Belaika's cue. He hefted the can of alovak and moved around the tent slowly and gracefully. He offered the dark drink first to Branad, then Marcus and finally Kelanus. As he poured the last cup, Branad spoke.

"I heard rumors, but could not believe that you would break the precepts concerning warfare and sylphs." He inspected the contents of his cup before gesturing towards Belaika. "I assume the paint covering this sylph is a mark of his work?"

"He's a scout," replied Marcus. "The precepts are not broken. As you can see, he bears no arms, neither is he – or any other sylph – expected to fight. I use sylphs as scouts or messengers, and as nurses. Thanks to them, I know the other half of your army cannot reach me today, which gives me time to consider what to do with you, never mind them."

Kelanus grinned at his former employer's discomfort.

Branad sipped at his alovak, hand and arm steady. "And what do you plan for me and my men?"

"My aims are simple." Marcus smiled. "I want to see Marka reunited and strong. I want to see true justice and the rule of law once more prevail, and I want to see a stable Markan Throne, with me as its first occupant."

"Ah. Well, with that last, you and I must disagree –"

Marcus put both feet on the ground and leaned forward angrily. "With that last, you and I will agree before sundown, or I will see you dead."

Apparently unconcerned, Branad took another sip of alovak. "My men might not be quite so docile if you kill me."

"If I decide to kill you," countered the other, "your men may choose to serve me in this life, or join you in the next."

Branad arched an eyebrow. "Really? The man who pardoned Pilwm when he surrendered. The same Marcus who allowed the Prefecture of Metton to continue its own way after defying your instructions."

"Trenvera would never tolerate either of us swallowing Metton."

"Perhaps."

Marcus's eyes narrowed. "The reason this discussion is taking place at all is that of the various claimants, only you and I share the same ancestry and an innate sense that defeated enemies do not deserve to be slain out of hand. Your men – like mine – do not pillage and despoil the lands they pass through or conquer. Like myself, you have built up a reasonable power base, the size of which has not been seen since Hingast changed his battle tactics and decided to destroy everything instead of consolidating his gains."

"Hingast has lost his mind," grunted Branad, sourly. He sniffed and changed the subject. "I still believe my claim is stronger than yours."

"Only two claimants received a summons from the Supreme Council of Marka." Marcus took a sip of his own alovak. "You and me."

"Perhaps the summons will not go as you wish, cousin."

"My claim is stronger than yours," insisted Marcus. "I'm a direct descendant of Kylist, the younger brother of the last Emperor. You're a descendant of the last Emperor's father." He took another sip of his alovak. "The laws of succession are quite clear: if the Emperor dies without issue, the Throne passes to his younger brother and thence to his descendants. More important than that, you're defeated in battle. That counts far more than bloodlines. You still have your honor and you may yet salvage much of what you've lost, but your claim to the Throne is over."

"Marka's Senate and Supreme Council may not see it that way." Branad downed the rest of his drink.

"I'm sure they will."

"What is it you want of me? Let me hear your terms."

"Your recognition of my claim," replied Marcus, smoothly. "Your army and Prefectures will join with mine under my command. We'll march to Marka together."

Branad waved Belaika away, refusing more alovak for the moment. "My army will join yours, but I'll only recognize your leadership until we reach Marka. There I will submit to the decision of the Senate and Supreme Council. If they choose you, our armies and Prefectures are joined. Likewise if they choose me."

Kelanus looked at Marcus in consternation. This was not going as planned.

Belaika's mouth dropped open, the alovak can forgotten in his hand.

"You will recognize my claim."

"Or what?" retorted Branad. "Kill me? You'll have a bloodbath on your hands if you do, as well as losing your reputation in Marka and elsewhere. I acknowledge your leadership until we reach Marka. You may command my men, but my claim will only be ended at the will of the Supreme Council."

Kelanus shook his head. "I told you we should have made sure he died," he said.

"If you had, the claim would pass to my son." Branad's smile did not reflect in his eyes.

The look Marcus directed at Branad was exasperated rather than angry. "Now you've been captured, I'm well within my rights to take your head and end your claim. You know it, your commanders know it and your men know it."

Branad blinked. "We can compromise," he said. "We can tell everyone that I have rejected my claim."

"You _will_ reject your claim."

"I need time to consider."

Kelanus laughed and shook his head. "You're wasting time in the hope the other half of your army will rescue you. We'll deal with them tomorrow; they cannot save you today. You have no time left, Branad. Choose now and choose wisely."

Branad's blue eyes stared coldly at Kelanus. "You would love to see me dead." It was not a question.

"Ranallic is the man I want to see dead."

Belaika tugged absently at his black collar and straightened it. Finally, Branad sat back and held out his cup for more alovak. The sylph scurried to top him up.

"When we reach Marka," began Branad, "what is it you would have us do?"

The atmosphere in the tent suddenly grew much lighter and Belaika relaxed. Everything would be all right now.

Marcus grinned. "Jenn! Sweetmeats, please."

As the infertile entered to offer the sweetmeats – glaring at all the humans as if they threatened her owner – Marcus began to outline some of his plans.

Belaika, who had no interest in human politics unless they affected him directly, sat on his heels and concentrated all thoughts on his pregnant wife. He would try hard not to fall asleep.

***

Neptarik- _y_ -Balnus had a scarf tied around his head, to stop his earpoints from betraying his emotions and feelings. He sorted the five cards into order quickly, before glancing surreptitiously at his companions. He hummed a few bars from 'Into the Dance' before falling silent again.

His owner was already out of the card school, his copper partas shared between the surviving four members. The sylph failed to hide his disappointment that they gambled for copper: he much preferred fattening his purse with silver. He laid his cards face down – one from each of the five suits: crowns, swords, trades, coins and wands – on the wooden table and folded his hands. He hoped his eyes hid his excitement and that the scarf kept his ears still.

"Card," grunted Erras, a lancer from Branad's army.

Ean – the youngest sylph on active service – acted as banker, but was not playing. He pushed another card across the table.

They played with just the numbered cards – two to eleven – but one of the pictured wild cards had been slipped into the two packs they were using. Whoever drew it immediately lost that round.

"Twenty-four partas," said Callen. He had been among the pikemen who were furthest forward this morning. The fresh slash across his face was already beginning to heal, but he would boast yet another scar when the scabbing had gone.

"Twenty-four," agreed Nazan, a dark-skinned outlander mercenary who fought for Marcus. He pushed a small pile of coppers nearer the middle of the table.

Callen twisted his mouth, but pushed another small pile of coins out to join the first.

Erras pushed out the same number of coins.

Neptarik glanced around again, before pushing twenty-four partas out to join the rest. The bets had been put on the table before the cards were dealt; now the pile of coins beckoned. He stared at it greedily and almost hummed again.

"Eighteen," Erras said, turning his cards over.

"Seventeen." Nazan looked disgusted.

"Seventeen." Callen sat back, hands behind his head. "I'm done."

Neptarik said nothing, but turned his cards over.

"Twenty-one!" Erras turned to Ean. "Are you fixing this?"

Ean's eyes betrayed outrage and his earpoints quivered in anger.

"All right, you're not fixing it." Erras held out his hands in mock surrender. He watched Neptarik scoop the coins gleefully. "Where did you learn to play cards like this?"

Balnus grinned. "He was a quick study."

Neptarik carefully placed twenty-four partas on the table; it was for him to start the betting as he had won the previous hand. Nazan and Erras followed the sylph's lead, but neither tried to up the bet. Neptarik nodded to the other sylph, who immediately dealt.

"Should be interesting tomorrow," remarked Erras. "Branad will ride out to meet the rest of our army. I wonder if they'll believe that they follow Marcus now. I can scarce believe it myself." He inspected his cards.

"It does not matter who you follow," said Nazan, "so long as the pay is the same."

Erras eyed the other human sideways, but it was not clear if his distaste was for the color of Nazan's skin, or because he was a mercenary.

"Card," said Nazan.

Neptarik eyed his cards. They were not as good this time. He could risk another, but that might take him over the magic twenty-three maximum.

Nazan tossed his cards onto the table. "I'm out," he said. He had the wild card, which busted him. The Emperor. Strangely, Branad's features were painted on it. Doubtless Ean's sense of humor: Branad was busted, too.

Erras stared at the sylph, his expression not exactly friendly. He pushed his twenty-four coins further to the center. "Twenty," he said, triumphantly.

Neptarik pushed all the coins across the table before turning his cards.

"Nineteen!" exclaimed Erras. "It seems as though your luck is turning, sylph."

Neptarik shrugged.

"We'll stake everything on this one." Erras grinned and pushed all his coins to the center of the table. "Playing, sylph?"

Neptarik pushed an equal number of coins forward.

"I said everything, sylph."

"He has met your bet," interrupted Balnus, protectively. "You cannot match him if he raises it now."

Erras shrugged. "Deal. Three cards."

Neptarik stared at his cards in disbelief. Thirteen? A measly thirteen? He nodded to Ean, who pushed another card across. One from every suit except the wands, not that it mattered for this game.

"Don't you sylphs ever speak?" demanded Erras. "I hate silence."

Neptarik turned silvery gray eyes to the human. What was there to say? His attention returned to the cards. This looked better. He only just prevented a hum.

Human and sylph turned their cards over together.

Erras cursed before he stood to leave the card school.

"Well done, lad." Balnus thumped his sylph on the back. "Well done."

Neptarik grinned and unwound the scarf from his head, restoring freedom to his earpoints. They twitched a few times in pleasure.

Yeomen came running through the camp. "General muster!" they shouted. "General muster!"

"No time off for any of us," grumbled Balnus.

Marcus and Branad gathered their armies to explain the new situation. That the rival claimants had reached agreement surprised both sets of men. The two armies would remain in their own units, with their own commanders, but overall command rested with Marcus, and Kelanus remained the senior field officer. Mutters rose from the gathered men when Branad announced that his claim was "in abeyance" until they reached Marka and that he would afterwards "submit to the will of the Supreme Council".

"That could mean anything," said Balnus.

Neptarik stared at Belaika. His friend stood a little behind his owner and looked anything but happy with the arrangements. It was soon obvious why. When Marcus and Branad had finished, Belaika heeled the defeated claimant back to his tent. Neptarik blinked in surprise. Whatever went on there was not to Belaika's liking.

***

"Alovak?"

Branad eased himself into a chair and nodded thanks.

Belaika had left the alovak to brew while the men were addressed. He poured it for the man who now commanded him in the evenings. The scout was furious that his owner had granted Branad's request for a sylph servant, especially as that servant was him.

Branad's tent only had two rooms: a living space with two easy chairs, a table and the wood burner, and a sleeping area screened off by tapestries. There was no special area for Belaika, so the sylph had piled his blankets close to the burner, where it would be warmest.

Branad detected the sylph's mood. After taking a sip of the strong liquid, he spoke. "You are wondering why I asked your owner for you to serve me?"

The sylph stared balefully back.

"I've never owned sylphs," continued Branad, when no verbal reply came. "I'm curious to learn more about you. No doubt you'll report back to your master now and then, so I hope you can lay his fears to rest. I'll not turn on him, even if the Supreme Council backs my claim. Of course, they may back Marcus's claim, but I'll worry about that then."

The sylph sniffed and glanced away.

Branad chuckled. "You were more talkative in Marcus's tent. What's wrong? Tongue fallen out?"

"May I go eat?" asked Belaika. "It is time." It had been a long day.

"Remember to come straight back and bring my meal with you."

In the large mess tent where the sylphs ate, Belaika found Jenn sitting alone at one of the tables. The infertile glanced up at the larger scout and gave him a small smile. For a moment, he thought she might banter with him, but she seemed content to eat in silence. Perhaps she sensed he was in no mood for talking. She mopped up the last of her vegetable broth with a hunk of bread, inclined her head to him and left, heading for the officers' tent, presumably to collect Marcus's meal.

Recalling that Branad also waited to eat, Belaika pitched his food in, stuffing two pieces of unleavened bread into the waistband of his breeches before hurrying outside again. He collected Branad's meal and toiled back with it, the can swinging easily in his grasp.

Once the meal was laid out, Branad indicated that the sylph should take the seat opposite him. "Your master may be interested to hear what I have to say," he remarked. "Sit and listen."

Belaika realized that he would have little chance to reply once the man began speaking. Not that he would have replied to most of it. A sylph only spoke when necessary, except to owner or family, and Belaika was no exception.

"When I meet with Ranallic tomorrow," continued Branad, "he'll follow my orders. An ambitious man, but he does obey a command once given. I'm most amenable to Marcus's suggestion that we all travel to Marka together; much easier than fighting each other all the way, what? Ranallic will agree. Who's Ranallic? Make sure you mention him to Kelanus, they're old friends. What I don't know, of course, is what Marcus plans once he has us all in Marka."

Belaika blinked.

"No, I suppose he doesn't take a sylph into his confidence. No matter. I'm sure we'll continue to Marka, but it is there that the problems begin. Never been there myself, but I prefer the battlefield to the intrigues of Markan politics."

The sylph remained silent.

Branad lowered his voice. "Your master is politically astute." He turned his head to one side as he finished his meal. "What's that noise?"

Belaika, who slipped from his seat to collect the dirty dish and cutlery, grimaced. Was this man tone deaf? Outside, sylph scouts' voices rose and fell in a harmonious choir. "My brothers," he said, finally breaking his silence. "They sing to the dead, to speed them to the afterlife."

"Yes, that racket would speed me along too."

Belaika hid a snarl, turned on his heel and stalked out of the tent.

Branad chuckled to himself and picked up a book. He watched Belaika return, brew alovak and serve a cup of it. Done, he left the can with the human and wrapped himself in his blankets in sulky silence. The sylph settled down beside the burner and curled up. His eyes closed and his earpoints tucked themselves away. Fascinated, Branad watched him before putting the book aside. He covered most of the light crystals before following the sylph's example.

_Tomorrow,_ he thought, _I bring in the rest of the army. Then, we march to Marka. Together._

***
**Chapter 2**

Jewel Of The World

"This is madness!"

Kelanus shook his head and stared at Marcus. "You capture him yesterday," he continued, "and release him today. You send him to his army! What do you think will happen with an army at his back again?"

"I must show Branad I trust his word," insisted Marcus. "If we ride out to this army, they'll attack us before we have chance to explain ourselves. Particularly with your friend Ranallic in charge."

Kelanus almost shook his head again, but stopped himself just in time. He must remember whom he shouted at. The four soldiers who had ridden with them looked apprehensive; to them, the claimant was already Emperor.

Belaika ignored the argument and strained his ears for the whistle that would come once the scouts knew that army's intentions.

The small group remained close enough to their own army to reach safety should Branad decide to take his chances. Belaika stood a little distance from the humans, but not far enough away to be out of earshot. More than was proper reached his ears and he half wished he'd been given other duties today.

He licked his lips and wished there had been a little more of breakfast. Somebody had appropriated the milk Branad's army carried, adding that _and_ sugar to the rolled oats sylphs ate to break the night fast. Though usually mixed with water, sylphs enjoyed sugared, milky porridge almost as much as choca.

He glanced around at the sparse scrubland. There were plenty of hiding places, but where they had halted was out of bowshot from the trees. They were safe here.

Marcus continued. "I don't believe Branad is prepared to abandon his men to my not-so-tender mercies if he does desert. I made it quite clear what would happen if he betrays me."

Kelanus grinned. "He knows you would do no such thing."

Marcus sniffed. "Tell me more about Ranallic."

"A southerner but, unlike most southerners, he's dishonorable and untrustworthy. You already know what he did to me." Venom laced Kelanus's voice.

Belaika did not know and his earpoints twitched. The high-pitched whistle snapped his attention away from the commanders momentarily. "They come, _enya_ ," he cautioned. "Under the black flag of peace."

"Thank you, Belaika." Marcus glanced triumphantly at his General. He looked at his bannerman. "Ready, Adrewa?"

"I am that, sir," replied the Imperial Bannerman. Adrewa hefted the Vintner Standard aloft and led the six men forward.

Belaika melted away to join the scouts, almost thirty in number, who had shadowed this army for days.

The humans halted on a rise and waited for the army to join them. Marcus stood in his stirrups and nodded to himself when he spied Branad at the head of three thousand men. Everything began to run in his favor. At last.

"I told you we could trust Branad."

Kelanus grunted. "But can we trust those he rides with?"

Marcus ignored his companion's skepticism and instead watched the advancing army. Three thousand men and perhaps thirty war machines, gained at no cost in gold or blood. What an impression he would give those waiting for him in Marka! He smiled. Life had not felt this good for years.

***

Kelanus rode behind the other commanders and listened to their conversation. He stayed apart, preferring to watch what others were doing.

Ranallic showed a keen interest in the sylph scouts and Kelanus watched him closest of all.

"Amazing." Ranallic stared at the rolling countryside and shook his head. "I see no sign of them. They can't have reached the forest yet."

Marcus smiled. "You see why they are scouts? Second to none; better than humans. Never had a bad report from them."

"You've used them in frontline service for ten years?" pressed Ranallic.

"It takes five years to train a successful sylph to the required standard. We start them at age five, let them run with the army from the age of ten and they can retire after twenty years' service."

Ranallic looked impressed. "Do they belong to the army, to you or individuals?"

"Individuals," replied Marcus. "Belaika is mine, but most belong to my officers and a few to my men. I do my best to keep owned and owner together, but that's not always possible."

"Probably not always desirable," added Branad.

The graves of those killed in the battle now lay two days behind them. Ranallic's men had been granted a day to get used to their new status and loyalties, while the camp was struck and preparations made to move on. The army and its attendants now stretched for three milas along the paved road, the war machines following immediately behind. A fine sight in the spring sunshine.

Detachments of men rode on either side of the column, watching for trouble. Branad's scouts were out, several in plain sight, but sylph scouts ranged all around the combined army, ready to report if required. The only sylphs in sight were supposed to be seen.

"They disappear from view quickly," remarked Branad. "Impressive. Why are those walking beside the column?"

"They listen for reports," replied Marcus. "Walking in the column they might not hear, so we have them a little way out."

"And you use others as nurses." Branad twisted around in his saddle to look where the nurses walked with the rest of the army.

"Sylphs have many uses." Marcus tried hard not to laugh at Branad.

Kelanus rode in silence and stared at Ranallic's back. He sneered if the southern General looked over his shoulder. If the claimants noticed the bad blood, they passed no comment.

He glanced at the large group of southern mercenaries in Branad's army. These men, who kept themselves to themselves, also avoided Ranallic. Kelanus determined to discover the reason why. He had met southern mercenaries before, and respected their fighting qualities, but these men were new. The only southerner in Branad's army when Kelanus commanded it had been Ranallic.

"What would your sylph scouts do if attacked?" Ranallic asked Marcus.

"If anyone ever saw one to attack him, there is little the average sylph can do," came the reply, after a moment's pause. "They have _ebatela_ , which is a sort of self-defense, but the problem has never arisen."

Ranallic's dark eyes glittered. "It's only a matter of time before someone thinks of a counter to them."

"A problem for the future," smiled Marcus. "Until then, I shall concern myself with winning my just title."

Branad and Ranallic exchanged a look that Marcus affected not to notice. Behind, Kelanus fought the urge to launch himself at Ranallic, still hating the straight-backed General just ahead of him. Trouble lay ahead from Branad and Ranallic. He hoped so; he had a score to settle. He prayed an opportunity would present itself soon.

***

Lance Captain Kestan Entor commanded the leading left flank and ranged well ahead of the main army. He held up a hand as a sylph suddenly appeared before him. One day, he thought, a scout will get killed rising out of the ground like that. To judge from his wildly twitching earpoints, the sylph bore a report. At his signal, the small column of lancers came to a halt. Kestan nodded his head in recognition of the scout.

"What do you have for me, Belaika?"

This scout was well known to most of the men and renowned for excellent work, though the sylph would be the first to deny it. Kestan wanted a sylph scout of his own and, now that his drinking days were over, hoarded as much of his salary as possible. There were several promising younglings in training yet to find an owner and he almost had enough money saved.

" _Donenya_ ," began Belaika, "there is a column of wagons, with armed men, about three stridas afar. An illegal slaver, we think."

Kestan paused. So tempting to let the caravan pass, but Marcus Vintner's orders were explicit: anything this close to the army must be investigated and the law enforced. Which included arresting illegal slavers and confiscating their property. If the sylphs suspected this caravan of being an illegal slaver... Well, the scouts were rarely wrong.

He glanced at Belaika. He was not known for carrying tales to his owner, but probably best not to take the risk. About to send his lieutenant, Kestan changed his mind at the last moment. "Lance Lieutenant Dekran. Stay here with the seconds. Firsts with me. Belaika, whistle the message on and follow."

Kestan was glad he had decided to investigate when the sylph answered. "It is already passed on, _donenya_."

The Captain said nothing to this, but wheeled his horse, followed by half his column. Thirty men should be enough to sort out one scraggly flesh trader. Banner Sergeant Yochan carried the Vintner Standard forward with the firsts. Belaika led the way to the furthest scout and remained in sight for the humans' benefit. The sylph pointed.

Kestan inspected the caravan. Eight armed men surrounded three covered horse-drawn wagons. Each had a driver except the lead wagon, which had two. Twelve men. Nobody at the caravan seemed to have noticed the newcomers, so Kestan waited. Their direction of travel almost paralleled that of Marcus and his army.

The gap had narrowed since Belaika's report; Kestan estimated two and a half stridas lay between the wagons and him. This caravan headed directly for Marka.

"You sure he's a slaver?" he asked.

The scout who had discovered the caravan stared up at the human, revulsion showing in his silvery gray eyes. "When you get close you will smell their cargo," he said.

"Not easy for humans," added Belaika. "They carry sylphs, who do not smell as bad when dirty."

Kestan glared at the sylph, who smiled back. "Are you this forward with your master?" he asked.

No reply was forthcoming and the sylph's grin widened. The smile said it all, really.

"I am not completely sure, _donenya_ ," continued the scout who had first seen the caravan, "but I think the slaver has wild sylphs."

Kestan nodded. He doubted the sylph could produce any evidence to back his claim, or explain how he could tell a wild sylph from any other, but he knew enough about the blue skinned creatures to trust their instincts.

Wild sylphs sometimes traded infertiles to humans, but only rarely were the breeding sexes sold. Overpopulation might encourage a cull of misfits or malcontents the rest of the tribe wanted to see the back of. Such sylphs were in demand for use as fresh breeding stock and always brought high prices. Wild sylphs had special rights enshrined in law, which specifically forbade the taking of them by any means except fair trade, but the rewards were high. He would soon discover whether or not this was an illegal slaver.

"With me, Ean and Belaika," he commanded.

Finally recognizing the danger, the small caravan came to an abrupt halt and the eight guards formed a defensive square. Kestan doubted if these men had much military training. He slowed a little, while half of his men rode harder, putting themselves on the other side of the caravan. The two scouts sniffed at the air as they drew closer and exchanged glances. Both pairs of earpoints lay back in their hair.

"Can you smell it?" asked Belaika, keeping pace with Kestan's horse.

Kestan shook his head. "Both of you stay close." He raised his voice, shouting to the men. "Put your weapons aside, in the name of the Emperor!"

Lancers surrounded the caravan and the armed guards hastily assumed a less aggressive posture. They recognized that these new arrivals were no brigands, easily frightened away with a show of strength, but fully trained soldiers. A short stocky man stood up on the box of the leading wagon.

"What do you want?" he demanded. "We have no part in your civil war."

"You in charge?" asked Kestan.

The man nodded, wariness shining in his blue eyes.

"What goods do you carry?"

The man smiled, showing perfect teeth. "Slaves," he replied, turning to gesture at the other two wagons.

"Sylph or human?"

"Sylph." The trader stared warily at the two scouts.

"Tell your men to stand down. Then you may show me your, ah, wares."

The man drew himself up. "I will not be plundered!" he all but screamed. "We are honest traders. We pay our taxes. I will not –"

"Tell your men to stand down," repeated Kestan. "And show me."

The trader gestured. The drivers laid down their reins and climbed off the wagons. The trader jumped from his own wagon, bringing a ring of keys with him. "I will not be plundered," he muttered, darkly.

Belaika moved closer to Kestan. "The man is _dson_ ," he whispered, disgust thickening his voice. "You cannot smell it?"

"Be calm." Kestan smiled reassuringly at the scout.

Two lancers followed their Captain as he followed the trader to the first wagon. Now Kestan smelled the not-quite-pleasant, not-quite-unpleasant sinabra of sylphs, much stronger than normal, mixed with a rather more unpleasant smell. As the man unlocked and swung open the door of the wagon, that smell grew worse. Sickened, Belaika and Ean took a couple of involuntary paces backwards.

Stepping inside the gloomy wagon, Kestan fought off a curse. He guessed there were fifty or more sylph males in here, all young. The silvery gray eyes of the nearest glowed, but were devoid of all usual expression. These younglings had lost the spirit Kestan associated with sylphs.

That was no surprise, nor that they were naked and chained. But he felt disgust at the trader for leaving these sylphs in their ordure, glad it was not summer, when this wagon would be full of flies and quite likely corpses.

"Ranva's eyes, trader, don't you let them out?" He made no attempt to mask his disgust. "There's no excuse for keeping them like this."

"And have them escape?"

Belaika and Ean exchanged glances, before staring at the trader in disbelief.

_That,_ thought Kestan, _is your first mistake. Sylphs bred into slavery do not attempt escape._ Aloud, he said: "Show me the other wagon."

This wagon was longer and higher and Kestan expected to see more males, who usually fetched higher prices. When the door finally swung open, he winced. He estimated some two hundred sylph females were within, again mostly youngsters or infertiles. This wagon boasted a two tier arrangement, presumably to cram in more souls. There was just as little care for personal hygiene here, with filth finding its way from the upper level to the lower. The same dull, spiritless glow from the nearest sylph eyes met his entrance.

"You travel south, trader," said Kestan, fighting to keep his voice level. He had no time for unnecessary cruelty to sylphs, wild or civilized. "To Marka?"

The trader nodded.

"From where did you buy this stock? No cities in the north trade fertile sylphs with Marka."

The trader's eyes flickered, but he had obviously not dreamed up any cover story, which suggested he usually had no need for one.

"These," continued Kestan, "are wild sylphs."

The trader did not try to deny it. "All bartered and traded for."

"Do you or any of your men speak sylph?" demanded Kestan. "I am happy to test their knowledge of the language."

The trader's mouth worked soundlessly. "Their chieftain spoke our tongue," he finally managed to splutter.

"Wild sylphs have as little as possible to do with humans," retorted Kestan. "They do not learn our language." He turned to the sylphs and raised his voice, so all could hear him. " _Nul awa salu sallit dondon?_ "

" _Le newu_ ," replied an anonymous sylph, after a few moments of stunned silence.

Kestan turned to the trader. "They don't speak our language. You must explain to me how you successfully trade with creatures whose tongue you do not speak and who do not speak ours. Outside, away from this disgusting stench."

The trader began to protest even before he relocked the door. "I am an honest man. I..."

Kestan ignored him. "Sergeant! Disarm these men and place them all under arrest."

"Arrest?" The trader's eyes widened.

Kestan turned back to him. "These are wild sylphs who I believe have been abducted against the will of their tribe or tribes. When I rejoin the rest of my army and we have time to get these unfortunates cleaned up and clothed, we will question them and you. I am sure we will then hear the truth."

"You cannot do this to me!" howled the trader as Kestan returned to his men.

Wrapped in pleased silence, Belaika and Ean followed.

Surrounded by lancers, the caravan had no choice but to go in the direction they were commanded to travel. Ean whistled a message, warning the main body of the army that prisoners were on their way. The trader and his men stared at the sylph as he gave the appearance of whistling, but none of the humans heard a sound. Kestan had never fully understood the sylphs' explanation of noises that humans could not hear, but he had learned to let it pass.

Late in the day, they rejoined the rest of the army. Most of the scouts and all the armed detachments were back. Even better, the camp was already set up, so they had successfully evaded that task. Belaika glimpsed Jenn at the mess tent, where she collected Marcus's meal and he crossed to join her.

"One is for Branad- _ya_ ," said the smaller sylph, hefting two plates. "I suggest you do your duty and take it." She sniffed. "I brewed his alovak while you were out enjoying yourself in the field."

Belaika grinned and his earpoints twitched in amusement. Jenn was in a bantering mood. "Thank you for caring for him I did not ask to care for."

Unimpressed, Jenn sniffed, although her eyes glinted mischievously. Her face was stern, but her earpoints betrayed inner laughter. "None of us chooses our owner," she retorted. "It is enough that _enya_ has commanded you do this."

"All right," laughed the male sylph, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I will tell Branad- _ya_ who he must thank for his alovak. He might send me back to _enya_ and ask for you instead."

The look of horror on Jenn's face made Belaika laugh harder. He gave her a small bow. This time her earpoints and facial expression matched exactly.

"Thank you for covering my duty." Taking the mounded plate of meat and vegetables, Belaika trotted towards Marcus's tent, knowing Branad's would be pitched beside it. The guards waved him inside without a second glance.

Branad turned at his entrance.

"A good day's scouting?" he asked. "An illegal slave caravan, I hear."

Belaika inclined his head and placed the meal down carefully. As Jenn had said, the alovak was already brewed, so he poured a large cup and put it at Branad's elbow.

"May I go eat?"

Branad glanced up and nodded.

The sylphs' mess tent was set up beside a small lake, not far from the impounded caravan. Sitting among _yenakula_ – brother scouts – and a few sylph nurses, Belaika turned as he heard a growing noise from the small collection of wagons. Lance Captain Kestan, together with a few men and several nurses – both human and sylph – sorted the inmates of the wagons. If further proof concerning the released prisoners' origin was required, the contempt that shone in their eyes for the sylph nurses should have been enough. For their part, the pity in the nurses' eyes had nothing to do with filth streaking naked bodies. Wild sylphs held civilized sylphs in contempt, while civilized sylphs viewed their wild cousins with pity, as they would never know the security of good owners.

The wild sylphs viewed the humans with wariness and fear, except those who had been involved in their rescue. Belaika knew hero worship when he saw it: these sylphs were more than grateful to Kestan and his men.

"They're being washed," someone said, as more of the scouts and nurses finished their meal and began to gravitate towards the caravan, curious to learn more about the newcomers. For most, this was the first time they had encountered sylphs from the wild tribes. Finishing his meal, Belaika followed the general drift towards the wagons, pushing aside his duty.

He watched everything.

The captive slave traders were set to work scrubbing the wagons, while human and sylph nurses checked the freshly washed sylphs for disease, rubbing salves into all fetter-sores. Kestan and his men made a tally of the sylphs, counting sixty-one males, including eight fully grown, if young; one hundred and sixty-eight females, including twenty-four adults; and thirty-three infertiles, who seemed even shyer than any other sylphs. Two hundred and sixty-two sylph souls crammed into the vilest conditions possible.

Belaika listened as questions were asked of the sylphs. Kestan looked pleased to have arrested this caravan. The sylphs were from more than one tribe and none knew the way back home. They were from the north, from various Prefectures. Snatched in ones and twos, some had been in the wagons for only weeks, whereas others had suffered far longer.

The scout itched to help, but he noted the wild sylphs would only speak to the humans involved in their rescue. They viewed the other sylphs with contempt, and that changed to fear when they saw a collar.

"I'll have a word with them," said Marcus, from beside the sylph.

Belaika blushed under his paint; he had not heard his owner approach. "If they listen," he said.

"We'll soon find out."

Marcus spoke, using the sylph language. He quickly assured the newcomers that they had not exchanged one set of masters for another and that they were free to leave when they wished. He warned that where there was one slaver, there would be others and, for the time being at least, the wild sylphs would be safer marching with the army. If they found a piece of land they felt should and could be colonized, then they were free to set up their own tribe. Entirely their choice.

Two hundred and sixty-two pairs of silvery gray eyes swiveled to Kestan. Belaika's lip turned. How _dare_ they treat his owner so? He recognized the light shining in those eyes, replacing the dull and listless impression given earlier. They waited for Kestan to speak.

"I recommend you stay," said Kestan, before realizing he had just used a language they did not understand. He translated hastily.

The larger sylph males nodded and the group of wild sylphs, seeing food laid out for them on nearby tables, drifted away.

Kestan turned to Marcus. "Will we hold a trial for the slavers here?" he asked.

"No. We'll hand them over to the Markan authorities where they will doubtless escape with only the mildest of admonitions. Until then, we must hold them securely." Marcus nodded towards the wagons, his dark blue eyes shining with laughter. "Strip them and chain them in one of the wagons in the same way they chained the sylphs. Give them food and water, but do not let them out. At least some justice will be done."

Kestan grinned. "As you command, so do I obey."

Marcus turned to the listening Belaika. "Aren't you supposed to be with Branad?" he asked.

Belaika bowed his head. " _Se bata_ ," he replied.

***

"Belaika! I was beginning to think you'd deserted for the night."

Branad turned as the sylph pushed the inner tapestries aside to enter the tent. The defeated rival for the Throne took a sip from the glass in his hand.

Again, the scout's paint hid his blush. "I am sorry," he apologized. "After eating, I went to see the wild sylphs. Time flew."

Branad nodded and turned again. Belaika had already seen they were not alone. General Ranallic lounged in one of the easy chairs, one booted foot arrogantly propped atop the other and a glass of wine in his hand.

"You are Belaika," said Ranallic. "One of the much vaunted sylph scouts. We met the other day but have not spoken. Come closer, boy."

The sylph nodded, trying to avoid the General's cold stare, finding his slanted eyes fascinating. He wondered why the other southerners did not associate with Ranallic. Obeying the command, he moved forward.

"My parents used to keep sylphs," continued Ranallic. "Timid creatures, of whichever sex, inclined to run away from everything, yet always submissive to the point of sacrificing themselves. And too pretty for masculinity." His feet abruptly hit the carpeted floor with a dull thud as he swung himself upright and shot out an arm to grip Belaika by the shoulder. The sylph tensed. "I'm impressed by your scouting colleagues. How did Marcus manage to invent sylph scouts?"

"We invented ourselves," replied Belaika, recalling his master's command to be open. He wondered why Branad took no part in the discussion, but instead fiddled with something behind him. "We can do this task, so offered our services."

Ranallic nodded, but his cold eyes did not change. He leaned back and waved his hand, indicating that the sylph might sit. Belaika sat cross-legged on the rug. As it grew dark and cold outside, he welcomed the warmth from the stove in the tent. The southern General stared into space for a few seconds.

"Tell me," he said, eventually, "if there has ever been trouble between General Kelanus and sylphs. I would not ask, but these new arrivals force the question."

Belaika blinked. "Trouble?" he echoed. "I know of none."

Branad joined in the conversation. "Ranallic, we have no wish to stir anything up from his past. Perhaps he has begun afresh."

"And perhaps not," countered Ranallic.

Belaika sat and thought, hoping not too many emotions flashed across his face. What was going on here? He already knew that Kelanus and Ranallic hated each other, but what trouble could there be between Marcus's General and the sylphs? "Kelanus- _ya_ is kind to us," he said, slowly. "When there is choca, he is quick to share it."

"Ah yes, choca." Ranallic looked and sounded amused. "A weakness shared by all sylphs."

Branad could see that a change of subject was called for. "Tell me everything you know about this caravan. How did you know they were illegal slavers?"

The sylph nodded. "When Ean ran it down, he knew that, despite outward appearances..."

***

Belaika forced his breathing to slow. He estimated two hours had passed since the guard changed. He'd almost missed that, as the tapestries forming the inner wall of Branad's tent masked almost all sound, even for him.

Branad's slow gentle snore came from beyond the partition, again muted thanks to tapestries screening it off. The sylph wanted to see his master, but what he wanted to communicate must be done privately. He could not just walk out of this tent without arousing the suspicion of the guard – one of Branad's men – especially when he immediately went into Marcus's tent. If Marcus's guard would even let him in, unlikely this time of night. So he must find a way out of this tent, break into that of his master, say what he must, ask his question, leave stealthily and break back into this one. All without seeing anyone other than Marcus.

He slipped from his blankets and shouldered through the tapestries to find the tent wall proper. It was almost too dark even for him, but he could see enough for his purpose. Crouching at one of the joins in the outer canvas wall, he loosened the bottom two ties. As the temperature suddenly plummeted, he tried not to shiver or draw a sharp breath. He rolled out from the tent and became still, taking stock of his surroundings.

No moon, but plenty of stars, which gave him enough light. Silence filled the camp, for even the hardiest soldiers were asleep. Only the tent and perimeter guards were awake and they would not have heard him. Dodging guy ropes and tent pegs, Belaika wriggled across the short distance between the two tents.

He knew the exact spot he wanted, where one of the ties was missing at the bottom. Finding it, he pushed his way through that and under the inner canvas wall of Marcus's tent. A more effective way of trapping heat within perhaps, but not as soundproof.

Half in and half out, he drew breath sharply.

"The entrance is that way, Belaika- _y_ -Marcus," hissed Jenn, irritation lacing her voice. "Use it and do not frighten honest sylphs."

He was close enough to see the faint glow of her silvery gray eyes. "Hush." Belaika recovered from his shock and squeezed himself the rest of the way in. Why wasn't she in her blankets? The smaller sylph, stood beside the wood burner, appeared to be in no mood for banter.

"Why are you in the wrong tent?" persisted Jenn. "Give me one reason why I should not call the guard. What treason is this?"

"No treason. I must speak to _enya_ – with you if it makes you happier, but with no other human. I came this way because Branad- _ya_ 's guard must not know I am out."

"You could say you needed the latrine."

"Before entering this tent?"

"You cannot see the entrance from there." Jenn shrugged. "If you want to see him, go see him."

The infertile watched him enter Marcus's sleeping quarters. Questions burned in her mind, but she had served her owner long enough to know when it was best to keep silent.

" _Enya_?" Belaika gently shook Marcus by a foot. " _Enya_?"

Marcus grunted and sat up. "Jenn? What?"

"It is Belaika, _enya_."

"Belaika?" Marcus came to his senses. "Why are you here in the middle of the night? You have news? Tell me, tell me."

He reached out a hand, intended for his sylph's shoulder, but caught an earpoint instead. Belaika irritably twitched it free before speaking, using the human tongue.

"Something is wrong between Branad and Ranallic on one side, and Kelanus- _ya_ on the other," he said. "Ranallic asked me if there was trouble between Kelanus and sylphs. Branad said they had no wish to bring up his past, but I think otherwise. _Enya_ , I had to come and speak with you. Something is going on."

"Plotting," whispered Marcus. "Jostling for position. Politics." His eyes gleamed in the darkness, visible to Belaika. "What does my most intelligent sylph think?"

Belaika blinked. "That Branad and Ranallic want to push Kelanus- _ya_ out of the way."

Marcus sighed, but in anticipation, not resignation. "When Kelanus came to me, asking to join my army as a senior commander, he told me why he was asked to leave Branad's employment. A couple of sylphs accused him of murdering sylphs, which he strenuously denied. He was quite vehement about it when he came to me. I believed him then and his conduct since leads me to stand by my original belief. I've known him for two years, but I've only known the others for days."

"Just murder?"

" _Just_ murder?" Marcus controlled his voice. "It doesn't get any worse than murder. Sandester is not the Imperial Republic, where an owner can take a sylph's life and nobody will stop him."

Belaika restrained a shudder; life in the Imperial Republic sounded harsh. "I meant to ask if any other crime was committed before the murder."

"Apparently so. Want the details?"

The sylph shook his head before remembering that his master could not see. "I can guess."

"Your guess is probably wrong. What was done is shocking, terrible. Worse than interference."

Belaika winced and decided not to ask. "Is Kelanus- _ya_ a good man?" There, his question was asked. "Is he innocent?"

"There have been no complaints about him since he came to us. Do you think him a good man? And innocent?"

"I trust my master's view. But we might be wrong."

"The sylphs who made the allegations were not prepared to face Kelanus in court. That counts for something. It's always easy to make accusations." Marcus gave a disapproving sniff. Those who made false accusations deserved all they got, in his opinion. "Go and rest, Belaika. Thank you for your report, which may prove invaluable."

Or may not, thought the sylph. " _Se bata_."

Jenn, still awake but silent, watched him leave the same way he entered, but gave no response to his cheerfully whispered goodnight. Outside, again feeling the sting of cold against his painted skin, he wriggled back to Branad's tent. He fastened the ties he had loosened, crept through the tapestries and dived into his blankets. Once snug, he was asleep in seconds, dreaming of flying.

***

The next day, the scenery changed from rolling moor and rough pasture to hilly woodland and forest. Although not the highest or grandest mountains they had seen, they were tall enough to boast snowy tops and the night air was winter cold. Everyone – including the wild sylphs, who relied on others' charity for their garments – donned an extra layer of clothing.

They were close to Marka, the city nestled in the wide valley beyond the hills. When they reached the edge of the forest on the other side, the grandest city in the world should be in view. Most itched to see it.

As they marched, Marcus observed his expanded army. He rode alone, and Jenn ensured he stayed that way for as long as he wanted.

Most of the men from the two armies seemed to be getting along with each other. There had been one or two fights, but fewer than expected, which was to the good. Even better, the men were learning from each other, exchanging skills and knowledge. They were working together. If the two claimants fell out with each other... Well, Branad did not have sylph scouts. Marcus had the beginnings of an unstoppable army, necessary to back his claim should diplomacy fail.

They were at least a day ahead of schedule, even allowing for the diversion to catch Branad before Branad intercepted him. Thinking of this, he again thanked Siranva for the sylph scouts.

Branad's senior officers and commanders resented being a half step below their original rank, having to report to their opposite number in Marcus's ranks. They refused to accept that they were defeated and lucky to still be alive, never mind hold a post in the new army.

It upset Marcus that Ranallic and Branad were conspiring against Kelanus, but he would only drop hints that he was aware if it got out of hand. Kelanus and Ranallic's mutual hatred stood out to anybody taking the time to look closely, but what could he do about that?

Marcus strongly suspected Ranallic stirred up the dissatisfaction of Branad's senior officers. Again, he could do little without betraying his source – Belaika – or having someone killed. This was not the time for political assassinations, though he did have contingency plans. He hoped most of these minor irritants would fade when they reached Marka.

A sylph's light voice started to sing.

Branad and his men looked confused, as the song began in the sylph tongue. Marcus's men grinned at each other, but nobody joined in the first verse. Ignoring Jenn's protests, Branad urged his horse to draw level with Marcus.

"What insubordination is this?" he asked. He understood enough sylph to know this was no complimentary song.

Marcus grinned. "No insubordination," he replied. "It's my favorite."

The verse told how badly the army treated sylphs, and how they had been tricked into becoming scouts. The humans listened in silence, before joining in the chorus. Sung in the human tongue, so even the most ignorant would realize what a terrible life the unfortunate scouts had been thrust into.

We march for choca,

No other cause;

We march for choca,

Not for your wars.

The humans laughed, while the sylphs took up the next verse. Branad's men grinned uncertainly at each other, before they joined the next chorus.

Branad shook his head, but allowed Jenn to force him away from her owner. She flapped her arms to emphasize something she was saying.

Marcus did not sing, again wrapped in his thoughts. Ranallic presented another riddle he was determined to solve. That platoon of southern mercenaries, all with dark slanted eyes and lank black hair. Despite their smaller stature, they were ferocious fighters, who killed three of Marcus's men for every one of their own dead. Their new allegiance remained unclear, but they caused no problems and no trouble.

Although outwardly friendly and polite, they kept to themselves. Despite Ranallic obviously being a southerner, he and they ignored each other as much as possible. A mystery he knew that Kelanus wanted to solve, one more baffling even than the sylphs.

Their song caused even more laughter: the hapless scouts were getting into deeper trouble, running up gambling debts and forfeiting choca rations. More and more of Branad's men joined in the chorus.

The sylphs amused Marcus as much as they confused him, and not for the song.

Wild and enslaved sylphs ignored each other completely, not even bothering with polite small talk. Perhaps from pity, the enslaved – scouts, nurses and the few infertiles who served the senior officers – tried to get on with the newly liberated wild sylphs. At every turn, their advances were rebuffed. It had not yet ended in a squabble, but the two groups made it so obvious that each ignored the other that they may as well fight.

Jenn, usually so fair minded, suggested that it might do them some good to be returned to the wagons for a day or so. Marcus restrained his laughter whenever a wild sylph passed an enslaved cousin, both looking away, while earpoints twitched in concentration.

The wild sylphs made themselves useful and joined the foraging parties during the day. Though they were wary of most humans, the exceptions amused Marcus. Lance Captain Kestan and the men who had rescued the wild sylphs were obviously marked men, for wild sylphs followed them everywhere. This further annoyed the sylph scouts – especially Ean, who had first seen and reported the caravan – who were yet to receive a shred of gratitude for their effort. Marcus was curious to learn how many of the wild sylphs would choose freedom when the time came for them to part company.

The liberated sylphs never taunted their former captors, still incarcerated in one of the wagons that had held them, which surprised him. The irony of the situation could not have been lost on them, but none went anywhere near. Perhaps the smell after the first day put them off.

His attention returned to the song as he recognized the last verse.

"The chorus is different after this one," Marcus called over his shoulder to Branad.

We march for choca,

No other cause;

So give us our choca

And stuff your wars!

Humans and sylphs roared with laughter together and even Branad managed to raise a smile. He pushed forward again. At a sign from Marcus, Jenn made no move to stop him.

"See?" Marcus smiled at his defeated rival. "All appreciation and gratitude. Certainly not insubordination."

" _Enya_? Water? Fruit?"

Marcus started. "What? Oh, Jenn. Um, water please. Thank you."

Jenn dropped back while Marcus drank his water.

"How much further to where the road summits?" asked Branad. "I'll be glad to be out of this damned wind."

Marcus smiled. Now they had gained more altitude, a cruel wind had grown up around them. Fortunately, the forest sheltered them from the worst of it. "All the other road branches have joined us now," he replied, "so it can't be much further. Aah! A fortune awaits the man who invents a container to keep alovak hot for hours!"

"Yes it does." A small frown furrowed Branad's forehead. "That sylph certainly knows how to look after you."

Marcus glanced back at Jenn, who fought to keep the skirt of her tunic from lifting in the wind, despite the scouting breeches beneath. "I should think so, after a quarter of a century," he replied. "Twenty-six years next month, to be precise."

"Your first slave?"

Marcus wagged a finger. "She may wear a collar, cousin Branad, but Jenn is more than a slave. She knows more about me than my wife."

Ranallic moved up to join them. Kelanus had ridden ahead to keep an eye on the advance troop, who had a relatively inexperienced commander, but that was only an excuse. Marcus suspected that he stayed away from Ranallic.

"I could not help overhearing," said the southerner. "It is said a properly bonded sylph is a joy to behold. I must congratulate you on bonding Jenn properly."

Marcus laughed. "You congratulate me for bonding Jenn?" He glanced at his sylph again and she grinned back at him. "I think you should congratulate her, not me. Bonding is a two way thing. We grew up together." He lowered his voice. "She was disappointed when I married and jealous when children began to appear. But she managed to persuade me into letting her come on campaign with me when I took over from my father by making herself indispensable. Clever girl, eh?"

The other men laughed.

***

As the road reached its highest point, it gave tantalizing glimpses of the valley far below. Roads, rivers and small hamlets were laid out as if on a map, but Marka remained elusive, allowing no hint of its existence. Forest and altitude masked the city from view. Nobody, except the human prisoners locked inside their caravan, had ever seen the city. Everybody wanted to be the first to see its fabled pyramid, said to dwarf every other building. It was believed that the taller structure dated from the original civilization, long lost. Many said the ancients held more knowledge than was now even hinted at.

Of them all, the wild sylphs gave the impression of being least eager to see Marka. They claimed to be looking for somewhere to establish a new home, but few were keen to settle at so high an altitude. One or two were used to this climate, but most were not.

The scouts began to resent being stuck at the rear or on the flanks and most preferred to range ahead, hoping to be the first to glimpse the city. Even the nurses began to run ahead of the army, ahead of even the leading platoon of soldiers. Despite denying that they wanted to see the city, the wild sylphs also ran forward with their enslaved cousins, patches of blue that stood out long after the others were camouflaged.

A full day and a half earlier than expected, a scout proudly reported that Marka was in sight. Marcus and Branad led an advance party to see the city for themselves. When they reached the place where forest gave way to a viewpoint, Marcus was disappointed to see the scouts and leading soldiers mixed together, all staring, necks craned. But the rebuke he had prepared died on his lips.

"By Siranva!" he whispered, as his gaze traveled up and up.

The pyramid dwarfed the city, never mind individual buildings, and most of the watchers paid Marka no heed at all. The giant looked to be built from polished black marble or glass and it covered more ground than even the city it dominated. The pyramid appeared to stretch into the sky and many wondered aloud why they had not been able to see it when the road reached the pass. A huge light crystal topped the pyramid and glinted like a ruby in the weak sunlight. Wisps of cloud hovered below its peak.

"Marka," said Branad, in a voice only a little louder than that of Marcus. "Now I know why everybody wants to come here at least once in a lifetime."

"Marka." Marcus nodded. "Jewel of the world."

***
**Chapter 3**

A Throne Recognized

Zenepha- _y_ -Olista heard the raised voice and looked up from his book, a blue forefinger marking his place. His wife Selkina moved closer, a question in her eyes. Both sylphs' attention turned to Tamsin, Olista's senior wife. The human woman glanced compassionately at them and shook her head in reassurance.

"Nothing to worry about," she said, but she too looked at the door, knowing her husband was about to walk through it. And not in the best of moods.

The sylphs looked at each other and Selkina tugged unconsciously at the skirt of her tunic, her anklet of bells jingling as she shifted position. Zenepha hated the idea of wearing bells, grateful to avoid this ridiculous humiliation himself, and insisted his wife remove hers whenever they were alone.

The small sitting room had originally been the sylph room, but Tamsin had taken it over for use in the winter; being smaller, it offered greater comfort during the cold season. Three upholstered and three plain wooden chairs were arranged around the hearth, though Zenepha had stretched out to read on the deep rug before the fire.

Two small paintings on the wall opposite the fire depicted summer scenes. A single mosaic formed the floor, though to see it properly, all the furniture had to be removed. It depicted two sylphs working in a garden, another reminder of the room's original purpose.

The door opened and Olista Allert, Supreme Councilor of Marka, strode through. A human serving girl scurried in his wake, bearing a glass of alovak, which she proffered, a worried look in her gray-blue eyes.

Olista calmed for a moment, his dark blue eyes softening as he saw the girl properly. "Thank you, Helena."

She fled.

Olista's expression hardened again as he turned back to his wife and the two sylphs. "Damn the Supreme Council!" he snarled. "Damn the Senate! Damn all politicians!"

More than used to her husband's outbursts, Tamsin looked unperturbed. Zenepha waited with slightly wilted earpoints. He did not enjoy his owner's bad moods. Selkina did not directly serve Olista and attempted to copy Tamsin's aplomb, with some success. She even managed a calming smile for her husband.

Olista dropped into his easy-chair with a sigh and almost spilled his alovak. "Thirty-six years in public service and still they will not listen. The two Vintners will be here in days, if not today, and still they will not listen."

"When the Vintners get here," suggested Tamsin.

"They'll just split into factions. Sandev says the Vintners will fight when they meet and that one will defeat the other, thus giving us a simple choice. But I fear it won't be that easy. There's a faction for each of the Vintners, of course, together with a third favoring Marcus Vintner senior, despite Daddy Marcus renouncing his claim. Worse, there are Senators – and High Councilors! – who support Hingast, or one of the other unsuitable claimants."

Olista paused. "That's not all. Only the two Vintners were invited, but Hingast has heard tell of it and is heading our way. His intentions are anybody's guess. Though I doubt if they're peaceable or decent."

Zenepha coughed discreetly into his hand. If Olista wanted to listen, he would allow his sylph to speak.

The two humans looked at him.

" _Enya, anya_ , would it not be best to wait until the Vintners arrive and then see what happens? When High Councilors and Senators see them, perhaps minds will change. From what you tell me, these two men are honorable."

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 villa 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 learned 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."

Petan's eyes widened. "You have reason to fear a sylph beggar?"

"I have reason to distrust that sylph beggar," corrected Marlen.

"I'll arrange an accident for him, if you like."

Marlen's good humor returned. "That might be necessary, but wait for me to give the word."

"Very well." Petan leaned back and caught the eye of the serving sylph. "Girl! Ale!"

***

The public gallery in the coronation building was really two galleries. The first overlooked the Senate, where most executive decisions affecting Marka were made. Two dividing walls separated it from Coronation Hall, where the Supreme Council met and deliberated on all legislation coming from the Senate; to accept, reject or amend as necessary. A huge stained glass window, depicting the first Mark founding the original Markan Empire, took up one wall of Coronation Hall. The empty warehouse opposite stole much of the light for the window, but it was still an impressive piece. But Sandev had no interest in the Supreme Council while the Senate continued its debate whether or not to recognize the Throne.

Unlike the Supreme Council, where the seats were arranged in a vague "u" around a gray plinth – presently empty, but where the Throne would stand once recognized – the benches in the Senate were arranged in two rows, facing each other. Those rows were five deep, each higher than the one in front. The Senate leader occupied a chair at one end of the hall.

"We have no need of the Throne!"

Sandev didn't know the Senator presently speaking and, like all the younger Senators, he displayed a deeply opinionated view.

"We have conducted our affairs for two-and-a-half centuries in peace and good order. There is no need for an empty Throne."

"Which will not stay empty," added another Senator, an older man with iron-gray hair. "Today we debate whether to recognize the Throne; tomorrow we debate who to put on it. Must we rebuild the Empire, knowing it will be reborn in blood, as empires always are?"

Everybody stared at this Senator.

"Taylon Xanas still trying for a republic," whispered Sandev.

"We want to see Marka united and strong again," explained the Senate leader, Lanas Exen. "We all agree on that much. Two Vintners have been invited to Marka and we all agreed it could be allowed, especially as either could take this city, should he wish."

"We should have invited all the claimants!" The young Senator grew angry, a good thing in Sandev's opinion. It meant the argument was being won, if slowly. "And tell them to drop their claims."

Lanas shook his head. "It's inevitable that one will force his way to the Throne," he replied. "Best for the Senate to debate the strongest claims, make its recommendation and then support the new monarch in his quest to reunite our lands. Or would you prefer one to fight his way and take what he sees as his right? What future for Senate and Supreme Council then? An Emperor guided by us, or one who is our sworn enemy?"

At this point, the Senators became aware that Sandev sat in the public gallery. One by one, heads turned and fingers pointed her out to friends. Finally the young Senator looked up and scowled.

"Do we really run Marka?" he asked, sourly. "Would we really advise any new Emperor? Or will another pull the strings?"

Sandev remained unruffled. The young man would not dare name her, but his accusation held an element of truth. She wanted the right man to become Emperor and to achieve that, the Throne must be recognized. She continued to sit through the proceedings, outwardly unperturbed. She leaned towards Stanak.

"What's his name?" she whispered, nodding towards the young Senator.

"Dlavan Hallend," replied Stanak. "By all accounts, a rising star."

Sandev reflected that unless Dlavan's parents had a taste for exotic names, he was not from Marka.

Lanas brought the debate back to its point. "We are not here to debate who should take the Throne, or what to advise any future occupant, but whether or not the Throne should be recognized. You should have polled your constituents; my own favor recognition."

They should all favor recognition, reflected Sandev. That the people wanted an Emperor should be obvious to all Senators. The only problem was which of the claimants to choose. She felt quietly confident one of the Vintners would fill that Throne. If these windbags ever recognized it.

"The debate is going well," remarked Stanak, watching for potential danger. Political arenas held more risk to his charge than the street.

Sandev sniffed. "They've discussed this for days. They may take many more to discuss it. Time we do not have." She turned her head, aware of someone calling to her from the floor.

"Why doesn't the great Sandev come down here and tell us her view?" demanded Dlavan. "I'm sure we will listen."

Sandev leaned forward over the balcony. "If I wished to impose my view, I would stand as a Senator myself. I am sure Marka is in good hands today."

Laughter and applause met her words and the young Senator, with a good-natured grin, turned away.

"A lucky escape," remarked Sandev. "It is rare for me to address the Senate, but it usually ends in disaster when I do."

"Too many minds to control at once?"

She turned to Stanak. "What did you say?"

The bodyguard smiled. "Nothing important." He changed the subject, bored of the debate dragging on below. "Do you want me to visit the Guildsman? We'd better check Janin's story."

Sandev nodded. "Yes, but be careful."

"I am always careful." Stanak's smile broadened. "Very careful."

***

Olista strode from Coronation Hall into the main lobby, pleased to hear that the debate in the Senate was proceeding well. They had taken longer than he thought possible, but felt certain recognition might come today. He smiled as he saw two familiar people stood inside the main entrance.

"Rare to see you here, Sandev." He managed to include Stanak in his smile.

"I tire of those who see me as a manipulator or a threat," replied Sandev. Her sapphire-blue eyes sparkled; she had genuine liking for the Supreme Councilor. "I had to see how the debate was going. Yet even in the public gallery, I could see they feared."

"Better fear than love," Olista retorted. "In politics, nothing good ever comes of love."

"Unfortunately."

Olista barked a laugh. "They fear an immortal," he said, pausing outside the doors.

"Siranva's gift is sometimes a curse," replied Sandev. "And I am not immortal. Stick a knife into me and I'll bleed to death as surely as any other human."

"Just so." Olista nodded again. "But the knife is unlikely while they believe you _are_ immortal. Your presence may help swing the vote in our favor. Any news of Hingast?"

Sandev shook her head. "Nothing you don't already know. Incidentally, when will you invite me to dinner? I would love to see how Zenepha is shaping up."

"Come on Sylvanday," replied the Councilor. "Somewhat apt, don't you think?"

"Very." Sandev turned to leave, but Olista's next words halted her.

"He still remembers most of what he read in the Histories. I've tested him several times. He's doing quite well with the Legal Histories, too."

Sandev nodded. "Excellent."

The Supreme Councilor inclined his head and left Sandev, returning to the innards of the coronation building.

Stanak spoke. "I am surprised that a sylph can learn to read, never mind work his way through all seventeen volumes of the History. And you say he is now working his way through the Legal History?"

Sandev smiled. "Many sylphs can be taught to read," she replied. "I admit that Zenepha is exceptional, which is why I loaned him the books."

"What are you two planning for him?" pressed Stanak. "High office? He's a slave, by Ranva! A slave, and he's better educated than I am."

She laughed. "Like sylphs, you see far more than you let on."

***

Zenepha put the book aside with a sigh. Volume Six of the _Legal Historie of Precedent and Landmarks_ almost finished. And only three more volumes to complete after this one. Thankfully, this series of books was much less than the seventeen volumes of the _History of the Markan Empire from the First Mark to the Collapse of the Second Empire._ One day, he hoped someone would compile books like these with titles that took less time to read than the books themselves.

The walled garden trapped sunlight and heat all year round and the sylphs usually made the most of sunny days, basking in the heat, even in winter. A couple of outdoor sylphs, under the supervision of the gardener, weeded and dug in the borders, preparing them for the fresh plants soon to be taken out of the glasshouse. Zenepha stretched and yawned, blue tongue protruding briefly as he pushed his arms to their fullest extent.

"I hate seeing that thing," remarked Selkina, at his side.

"What? Oh, that." Zenepha regarded the tattoo on the inside of his left biceps with little emotion. The black lines had always been there, but nobody knew what they meant beyond proving Zenepha came from the Key.

Few sylphs sold from the Key had the tattoo, but all those with it had been sold from there. He remembered little from before; the few memories left to him were hazy and vague. His master believed that he had been drugged to make him forget and only thinking of this ever made Zenepha angry. More than anything else, he wanted his memories back.

Over the wall of the villa, he could just see the upper part of the giant pyramid. Many claimed that was the Key, but Olista said not. His master became evasive when Zenepha asked to know where he might find the Key. If everyone in Marka knew that the empire came into being to protect the Key, it seemed most, other than those who traded directly with it, had forgotten its location.

But Zenepha knew Sandev remembered.

He used to ask questions about the Key, the Ark Star and the strange objects like the pyramid outside the city walls, but Sandev refused to answer. She told him research sharpened the memory and that he should read more. Many ancient books held answers. When he persisted, she said the full truth would frighten humans, never mind over-inquisitive sylphs.

Selkina watched her husband with concern. She knew mentioning the tattoo made him introspective; she had done it to make him forget those books he was forced to read. She felt Zenepha read too much. For sylphs, knowledge was a dangerous thing. She had even tried to talk him out of pursuing Sandev to learn answers about his past. If humans had somehow stolen her husband's memories, they had done it for good reason. It was sad Zenepha could not remember his family, but he had her.

"You spend too much time with books," she said. "We should try for children again."

Zenepha grimaced. "A waste of time." Not that the trying wasn't fun, of course. "They did something to me. _Enya_ says no sylph with the tattoo can breed."

Selkina winced. He seemed far more comfortable with that fact than she. Without children, her own status suffered, but she tried to ignore that. Zenepha would make a good father. He was good with the younglings here. "Even so, it is a duty to try."

Zenepha looked at his wife with compassion. "You knew before saying yes," he said.

Selkina smiled. "You deserve to have children."

"So do you."

Silence returned. Zenepha reached for his book again.

Selkina rose to her feet and dusted herself down. "Shall we walk? Then we must get the chores finished."

Zenepha pushed the book aside again and nodded. No more reading today.

***

Perhaps the most lavish of all in the coronation building, the Supreme Councilor's outer office contained researchers and advisors, laboring under the careful eye of his secretary, Melda. Strewn with papers and lined with books, an inner office formed his own sanctuary. Only Melda entered uninvited and she talked with Olista now. She had bad news.

"Molochi and his troop have returned," she told him.

"Excellent." Olista managed a smile. "What did the sisters say? Are they amenable?"

Melda held the Supreme Councilor's gaze. "They said nothing and they gave no reaction. The ilvenhome is empty. They are gone."

"Gone?"

"They are all gone," repeated Melda.

"They have moved? We need an ilven."

Melda held her ground. "They rode straight into the ilvenhome. Molochi says it looks as though they were never there. Completely deserted. No sign of any sister."

Olista shook his head and forced calm on himself. "We need an ilven to attach herself to the Vintner claimant. It'll help woo the Senate and nudge them towards recognition of the right claim. If the sisters are gone, it makes Marcus Vintner's life harder. I assume that also means no sign of the gwerins?"

"No gwerins either." Melda looked sympathetic. "They could be anywhere. Or dead."

"One began advising in the Eleventh Century; she's bound to be dead by now. The other two are much younger. Barring accidents, they should be lurking somewhere."

Melda scratched her chin. "I heard a tale about a gwerin who came here the same day Emperor Evlander's three left," she said. "No record of her existence, but none of her leaving either."

"Rono's mythical advisor?"

"Perhaps no myth. An order penned by Rono has survived: that no record of her presence was to be made. A live myth, I suspect."

"If we can find her, I'll have her," said Olista.

Melda gave a quick bow with her head. "No trace so far, but I will continue to search."

That, thought Olista, was typical of his secretary. She knew of a fourth gwerin and had already begun a hunt. She needed no direction from him. "If the ilven have abandoned another home, their numbers are still dwindling," he said.

"That is Sandev's worry more than ours," said Melda.

Practical, and to the point.

Olista and Melda turned as the office door opened, revealing a messenger.

"Supreme Councilor!" The boy panted, doubtless rushing around all the offices. "The Senate have agreed to recognize the Throne."

"I shall come to the Supreme Council immediately."

The boy dashed out, leaving the door open.

Olista took time to tug his robe on over his clothes, nodded to his secretary and left his office. He walked in a leisurely way through the corridors back to Coronation Hall. As he entered, the packed Supreme Council fell silent. The stained glass window, depicting the first Mark, dominated the room. Ominously empty, a gray plinth stood at one end of the hall, under the window. Lanas Exen stood beside it.

Olista swept into his seat. "You have something for us, Senator?" he asked.

"Supreme Councilor," began the Senate leader. "We are pleased to announce to this Supreme Council that the Senate has agreed to recognize the Throne of Marka again. We request the Supreme Council recommends to us candidates for that Throne."

"Senator Lanas," began Olista. "Thank you for your information. We are well aware this subject has been debated over several days and are pleased such a contentious issue has finally reached conclusion. We in the Supreme Council have already agreed that, should the Senate again recognize the Throne, we will authorize that decision. Go and announce that the Throne is again recognized; Marka is again an empire."

Lanas nodded and left.

Gorfron, the oldest High Councilor, stood. "I suppose we'd best get some strong young men to bring the Throne in here," he said, his voice thin and reedy. "Supreme Councilor, I must warn you that now it is recognized, our troubles are just beginning. Many former Prefectures have grown used to their independence. The way ahead will be tough, difficult and bloody. May Siranva help us all in the centuries to come."

Olista smiled. "I am sure that Siranva will help us ensure any bloodshed is kept to an absolute minimum."

"Siranva will leave human affairs to humans," countered Gorfron.

"The new Emperor will deal with the Prefectures. Many want to see the Empire rise again."

"And many more do not."

Olista smiled. Doubtless the councilors feared a time of military conquest and bloodshed. He had read several pamphlets written by Marcus Vintner and knew the man had a more political than militaristic outlook. He preferred to take reluctant Prefectures by stealth, offering military protection, fiscal aid and possibly even a customs union to bring them into the fold. This method took years but, once they agreed to take the Markan currency, their fate would be sealed and their independence doomed. These men would learn, eventually.

"Marka already has ten Prefectures under her rule and protection," remarked another Councilor. "More will come with the Vintners and, with an Emperor, still more will return to the fold."

"If the two Vintners stop fighting each other."

"To say nothing of the other claimants. Hingast, for example."

"Councilors!" called Olista, deciding to end this before it got out of hand. "These are problems for another day. For now, let us rejoice that Marka has taken the first step out of the ashes of the Second Empire."

"There are many things we need to recommend."

Olista let it all wash over him. The first battle was won.

***

Stanak dropped a small copper coin in front of Janin as he passed. The sylph stared down at it.

"Is that all?" he squeaked in disbelief.

"If it displeases you, I'll have it back." Stanak scowled down at the beggar and lowered his voice. "Are they in?"

Janin scowled right back. "Misers like you usually ask for change," he snarled. His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "They have not come out all day."

"No pleasing some people." Stanak looked at his hand. "Thank you." A silver coin joined the copper one.

"Better," grumbled Janin, secreting the silver under his blanket. Never show silver to passersby, who would then assume you needed no more. He thrust the copper coin towards Stanak. "Your change."

"Keep it." Stanak pushed the beggar from his mind and crossed the road to the Guildsman.

The moment he entered the inn, he knew that everybody would immediately suspect he had something to do with the City Guard. They would be wrong, of course, but he was certainly not their friend. Stanak had no sympathy for Hingast or his supporters at all.

He pushed the door open and looked around. The main room was as clean as could be expected, ale casks set on trestles, with a couple of serving girls and a sylph with a miserable expression ready to move. Several men sat at tables drinking, but the inn was quiet this time of the day. He glanced towards the man with pale blue eyes sat at the window.

"Ale, sir?" The sylph looked at him, earpoints slanted forward.

"Please."

The sylph blinked at the pleasantry. She busied herself pouring the ale.

"Half a parta, sir."

Stanak passed over a full parta and waved away the offer of change. He looked for and found the innkeeper.

"I'm looking for a man named Marlen," he said.

All conversation ceased. The innkeeper looked terrified. "Know nobody by that name, good sir," he managed.

"Who's asking?" The man with pale blue eyes joined them.

Stanak drank half his tankard. "Word on the street is you're looking for swords," he said. "I'm available."

"Word on the street is wrong." Marlen looked him up and down. "Try the City Guard."

Stanak snorted. "Some of us are known to the Guard for the wrong reasons."

A smile ghosted across Marlen's features. "Why you looking for work?"

"Two wives and eight children murdered by raiders." Stanak's voice caught in his throat. The memory fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

"My commiseration, but I have no work."

Stanak nodded, drained his mug and walked out. This time, he ignored the sylph beggar across the road.

***

"You're _sure_ it's Marlen?"

Stanak nodded. "I asked for him by name. Used the murders as cover."

"You asked for him by name? I trust you didn't leave yours."

"I may do foolish things, but I am not stupid."

Sandev sighed. "Marlen. A promising student. The Gift flowed strongly in him. I never found out why he threw it all away. The Malefic Sephiroth always makes its proposal seem so much better; their way looks easy and appealing. The Father selects those humans He blesses with the Gift, but anyone can learn sorcery. They never learn its true cost until too late."

Stanak decided to keep to the subject in hand. "It doesn't matter what may or may not have been," he said, gently. "All that matters is what we decide to do about him."

"He is a powerful sorcerer."

The bodyguard nodded. "Working for Hingast."

Sandev shook her head. "Not Hingast, though he would prefer you to believe that. Marlen works for Dervra."

"Dervra?"

"Another of the Ten. Well, once. He went over to the Malefic Sephiroth and made a pact with Andromech. They want to subvert the Ilvenworld for their own ends. Marlen is dangerous, but only a child compared with Dervra."

"But these are Hingast's men," protested Stanak. "They're working to make his claim possible."

"Hingast and Dervra are probably working together, though perhaps Hingast does not yet know he's the junior partner."

"There are plenty of reasons for them to be here," pointed out Stanak. "Gain intelligence for more raids, cause trouble in the city, or even assassinate the Vintners."

"Let's see what the sylphs discover," said Sandev.

Stanak did not share his employer's faith in sylphs. "If anything," he grunted.

***

Eyes shut, Sandev sat at her desk. She had no need for the books lining the walls of her study tonight. She ignored the gurgle of the clepsydra as her hand hovered over the contents of the desk drawer. Evidence of Dervra's involvement mounted daily. Which in turn meant Nicolfer was not far away. They always worked together.

One of the Ten she could handle, but not two. Not when they had the Gift _and_ sorcery to draw on. Only one way she could even the odds, only one member of the Ten who would help.

Grayar.

She prevaricated.

If she put her mind to it, could she force herself against Dervra and Nicolfer?

Grayar had helped found Marka, but had spent the last six hundred years nurturing a still-expanding land named Skorin. That it lay thousands of milas across the ocean to the east was no problem for the Gifted. With what others saw as magick to carry her there, they could meet tonight.

She had always liked Grayar, even before they became members of the Ten. She hoped they remained firm friends, despite their differences of opinion. Grayar would never approve of the school she had founded within Marka, with the aim of progressing the human race. He claimed progress always caused more trouble than it was worth, but Sandev believed in its inevitability. Far better to channel and control it than let it run unchecked. None of that caused her prevarication.

When they had become the Ten, Grayar was the oldest and Sandev the youngest. That had always remained, though after the passing of so much time any age difference had paled to insignificance. Sandev did not want him to think she feared dealing with another member of the Ten without holding his hand.

She reached a decision. She would wait a little longer and see what happened. She could always reach Grayar if things worsened. She opened her eyes, stared at the small stones packed into the drawer and slammed it shut.

***

Olista stared at the worn Throne of the first Mark. At last, it stood where it belonged on the plinth in Coronation Hall. It shone golden in the low light, glistening with fresh varnish. The Supreme Councilor was alone in the chamber, at his ease in one of the seats used by the Supreme Council. The old padded seat was gone for the moment, a replacement due tomorrow. The Throne had a stumpy appearance, because the upper back had been removed, the missing part boasting the heraldic arms of the first Emperor, a golden eagle clutching a sword. That would be repainted with the arms of whichever Vintner took the Throne and only then replaced.

The flags were not out yet, but Olista knew two would flank the Throne. The Royal Flag, with Mark's gold eagle and sword on a black field to one side; the People's Flag, gold over green over gold, on the other. A permanent reminder of the Emperor's obligations to State and People.

Olista knew the Vintners were unrelated to the dynasty of the First Empire, but everybody else believed they were. Even so, he needed all his political skill to persuade the Senate to choose the right man. Marcus Vintner. The problem of his father still being alive would be solved easily, but the problem of his cousin, Branad Vintner, was not so simple to overcome. Both men were descended from Emperor Evlander: Branad Vintner from Evlander's son and Marcus Vintner from his grandson.

On the face of it, Marcus boasted the stronger claim, but Rono III had ruled for only days before disappearing, presumed murdered. His younger brother, from whom Marcus was descended, had never been declared Emperor.

Sandev had filled in the gaps. Evlander's second son, uncle to Rono III, had become Preceptor of Marka and the family held this title until expelled from the city sixty years later. Many believed this man's descendant – Branad Vintner – should therefore take the Throne. But, during all his canvassing, Olista had never passed on what Sandev had revealed about the last Emperor, Rono III himself.

Still only sixteen, Rono had fled in the chaos of the collapsing empire. He wandered for years before marrying a peasant girl, who gave him three daughters before a fourth birth killed mother and child. Slave raiders attacked the village where Rono lived, killing the former Emperor and taking his daughters. Two died but the toughest survived to marry her former owner. Hingast was her direct descendant and – in theory – had the strongest claim to the Throne.

Olista sighed. Any thought of having that monster as Emperor made his blood run cold. He looked again at the Throne, sniffed and turned to leave.

A dream had been fulfilled: the Empire was reborn.

***
**Chapter 4**

Zenepha's Day Off

Zenepha had long ago decided that the way some owners treated their sylphs set them apart from the majority. Olista allowed his slaves a day off each week. Free days were spread out, so some were always available for work. Most spent their free day taking a lie-in, or mending clothes, or chatting. Zenepha preferred to spend part of his free day walking around the city.

He accepted he would never be allowed out of the city gates without a permit from his master and smiled as he remembered his early attempts. Fortunately, Olista had never insisted on punishment for sylphs over any small infringement of rules and Zenepha took the hint long before matters got that bad. Even now he doubted he would return if he got outside and discovered a way to reach the Key. Nowadays, he contented himself wandering the streets, learning all he could of Marka's ways and people. Olista insisted he do this, though Zenepha wondered why a slave needed to learn anything more than how his owner wanted things done.

Selkina never understood either, and she had long ago stopped coming into the city with him, spending her free day with her mother. Initially disappointed that his wife preferred to be elsewhere, Zenepha quickly learned to enjoy his solitude. Even surrounded by people and sylphs, he could be gloriously alone.

Unless anyone recognized him. Two City Guardsmen walked around the corner and eyed the sylph with neutral expressions.

"Run away again, Zenepha- _y_ -Olista?" asked one, while the other checked his collar. It was all show; Zenepha had friendly terms with most guardsmen, who knew him and his owner well.

The sylph could not hide a smile and his earpoints twitched. "So long as I am back for the evening meal, I may run free."

The guardsmen chuckled while one affectionately ruffled his long silvery gray hair. "We won't keep you from your freedom any longer. Keep your earpoints up and your eyes open; today might be interesting." The guard who had spoken winked conspiratorially.

The streets heaved with humans and sylphs dashed everywhere. Knots of freemen and freewomen gathered to speak in low voices. Where he could, he eavesdropped.

"Hundreds of rumors fly around the city."

"They should be here sometime today."

"Perhaps tomorrow."

"Eylan was certain. Today."

The group became aware of his presence and gave him glances that hinted he should take his long ears elsewhere. Caught, Zenepha happily obliged.

The broad boulevard along which most of Marka's traffic traveled had trees along the center. Some long forgotten Senator had paid for benches under the foliage, so citizens could rest and watch the world pass by. Zenepha used to worry that slaves were forbidden to sit here, but nobody ever bothered him, so he made use of the benches.

He always perched at the very end of a bench, so freemen could sit if they wished. He picked his way to his favorite, which was unoccupied, and made himself comfortable.

Carts rumbled past continuously, some leaving and others entering Marka. Completely dependent on surrounding farms for food, all the city's trade moved by cart and caravan. Some carts had armed guards, others no guards at all. Dusty sylphs traveled with some caravans, staring open-mouthed at the city. Not all the gawpers were sylphs of course. A goodly number of humans were also seeing the city for the first time. Whether coming or going, all the carts were full. They carried news – and rumors.

Zenepha tried to ignore the rumbling carts and stared across the street.

Opposite stood a row of shops owned by the same family: bakery, goldsmith, clothier, carpenter and a tavern. Zenepha liked to watch the goldsmith, who owned several sylphs. Their deft fingers were better adapted to using the small tools that jewelry sometimes demanded. He admired their skill.

The obligatory sylph beggar waited outside, in this case a small infertile he used to assume was still growing, until passing years showed that this sylph had no more growing to do.

Zenepha felt sorry for beggars. They left him alone of course: pointless to beg from slaves, who had no money, or just enough for their errands. Most beggars were sylphs. Few humans lasted long on the streets, the girls and even some of the boys falling into prostitution or foul of the law. Most sylph beggars had fled from now abandoned farms raided by bandits, or dumped by owners who could no longer afford to keep them.

Groups of itinerant performers – known as taynors – were not regarded as beggars by the authorities, but they tended to remain within the city walls, not daring to wander for fear of attacks. Any who left usually traveled in company with caravans lucky enough to have guards.

The true beggars had Zenepha's wholehearted sympathy. They were collared, to remind them of their slave status, but also so the authorities could track them. Nobody stopped them from entering the city, but they were no freer to leave again than Zenepha. Only the taynors could leave if they wished. He glanced again at the infertile outside the tavern.

She would know that the alehouse was called the Vintner Shield, but unlike Zenepha, she could not read the letters. He watched her catch bread thrown her way, snatching it out of the air and stuffing half into her mouth and smacking her lips in satisfaction. She ate the other half more slowly.

She looked around, saw Zenepha, gave him a cheerful wave and smiled. Picking her moment, she darted across the boulevard, earpoints twitching in pleasure.

"Hello, Nata." Zenepha smiled at her.

"Morning, Zenepha- _ya_ ," replied the beggar. She looked at him expectantly.

He ignored that she wore very little beneath the blanket wrapped around her small frame. He was pleased that the thin wind had dropped, replaced by bright sunshine that heralded the start of the dry season.

"Anything exciting happening?" he asked her.

Nata nodded. "A fight outside the tavern early last night. Many coins were dropped. Tonight, I will get new clothes."

"That will be nice." Zenepha knew – and disapproved – of the "system". Humans, usually gangs of adolescent boys, divided the sylphs between them and, in exchange for "care", all coins the beggars managed to accumulate during the day went straight into their so-called protectors' pockets. And if a beggar failed to bring in enough, trouble followed. He suspected that Nata's "new" clothing would be little more than rags cast off by someone else.

"You don't need to hand everything over to them. You would be much better off if you begged alone."

Nata scowled. "You have an owner," she countered. "You cannot understand, but I prefer the security they offer to freedom."

Zenepha found it incredible how sylphs refused to pull free from their human controllers; even fertile sylphs fell into the arrangement. Perhaps fall was the wrong word: sylphs actively sought it out, the racket endemic throughout Marka. Zenepha believed that the Supreme Council ultimately controlled the gangs in some way, but he had no evidence to back up that belief.

"Nata, it is exploitation." Time to change the subject, judging from the look on her face. "Any news or rumors?"

"The Senate has recognized the Throne," she replied. "And they will put a Vintner on it."

Zenepha smiled. "News travels fast on the street," he remarked. "They do not know who will sit on the Throne."

"The carters say there is an army in the hills. Maybe two or three armies."

"It is true an army is close to the city."

"They will bring the Emperor here. It will be good to have one again." Nata's expression firmed. "Everything will be put right when he takes over. There will be no more beggars, because people will farm again and need sylphs to work for them." Her eyes gleamed as she spoke and her earpoints twitched upright for the first time.

"That is what should happen." Zenepha found her hope touching.

Born into one of the poorer sylph owning families, Nata had never worked on a farm. She remained unsold and, with many other young sylph mouths to feed, her owners eventually showed her the door. Every sylph craved human ownership, infertiles such as Nata even more so than breeders. No doubt she felt the shame of her expulsion, instead of blaming those who had kicked her out. Had shame helped her decide that negative attention offered a better alternative than no attention at all?

"You had better get back over the road, Nata," continued Zenepha. "You will miss the best opportunities. Oh, almost forgot." He passed over the dark bread he always brought for her. "There is more fruit in it this time."

" _Mutydo,_ Zenepha- _ya_."

Nata grinned and almost snatched the bread from his fingers, a hint she was still hungry. She took two bites and tucked the rest away. She touched Belaika's knee in gratitude and scampered back across the boulevard, forcing the surprised driver of a carriage to slow down. He swore at her, but she did not respond.

Zenepha spent a little time watching the sylphs inside the goldsmith, but soon moved on, giving Nata a small wave as he walked away.

Returning to the crowds, he watched sylphs on their errands. Zenepha also watched humans about their daily business, but he liked to observe his fellow sylphs more. They darted everywhere, rushing to complete their tasks as quickly as possible. The same urgency permeated Olista's household; the quicker chores were finished, the sooner a sylph returned to whatever she or he wanted to do. He unashamedly watched everybody around him.

Some were quite well dressed – a few even better dressed than him – but most were not. Many were almost as ragged, if considerably cleaner, than the beggars. Quite in keeping with the times; with many more poor humans, their poverty would affect their slaves too. Despite sylphs' well-refined sense of shame, he noted many ragged slaves were often cheerful and, if not exactly sleek, certainly fed. On the other hand, he saw as many miserable smartly-dressed sylphs as miserable ones in rags. Having a wealthy owner made no difference to sylphs: a slave was a slave and better a decent poor owner than an evil rich one. Some owners – rich or poor – were not always kind to their sylphs.

Zenepha's owner was not only decent and wealthy, but also the most powerful man in Marka.

Which, if Olista had his way, would soon change.

He regretted not paying so much attention to the bustling humans the moment his eyes focused again. He put his head down and tried to hurry past without being noticed. Being a sylph, this was usually easy.

The man Zenepha tried to avoid had his back to him and leaned forward to inspect something in the shop window. The sylph had instantly recognized Sandev's bodyguard. Either Stanak had a day off – which the sylph doubted – or Sandev herself was somewhere near.

He worried about the attention she lavished on him. Her obvious great age awed and her power terrified him. He had no wish to meet her on his free day. He preferred avoidance, assuring himself that only the Gift frightened him, not Sandev herself. She served the good side, and the Father. He almost managed to convince himself. He failed to slip past unnoticed.

"Good morning, Zenepha."

The sylph's spirits dropped. Stanak's gaze was on him. The human must have seen his reflection, or turned at exactly the right moment. Or else he had been seen _before_ he spotted the bodyguard. "Good morning, Stanak- _ya_ ," he replied. "Is Sandev- _ya_ with you?"

The bodyguard smiled. "No, I'm looking after Caya."

Zenepha looked into the shop, where he saw Sandev's slave waiting her turn in a queue. He heaved a mental sigh of relief. A couple of years ago there had been suggestions that he marry Caya, but Sandev had decided against. Zenepha had liked the idea and felt certain Caya had shown equal interest. Sandev gave no reason, but Zenepha now had a wife. Selkina was his only love.

"Some would say your owner is careless, letting you out by yourself," said Stanak.

Zenepha shrugged. "The city is safe," he said. "Who bothers sylphs? Besides, Guardsmen are everywhere."

"There are still dangerous areas where even the City Guard treads with caution," countered Stanak. "And there are those who would strike at the Supreme Councilor through you."

The sylph shivered and his earpoints wilted a little. "I know where all the bad places are. And avoid them."

"As you wish. Ah. Caya."

Sandev's slave left the shop, carrying purchases for her mistress. She smiled at Zenepha, her earpoints slanting ahead and twitching. She remained unmarried, and her interest had clearly not diminished. The two sylphs inclined their heads, but said nothing. At least he had not run into Sandev.

***

Janin muttered in his sleep, baring his teeth in a grimace of fear.

_He'd left his begging spot late, with darkness shrouding even the Guildsman. He picked his way carefully through the streets, hoping to see the night beggars about their business. Someone followed. Not someone, but some_ thing _. More than anything, he wanted to see more of his own kind. Why was he alone? There were always scavengers about. Just him and whatever followed._

He began to run and almost screamed as the something poked him in the back...

Janin opened his eyes and stared at the blank whitewashed wall in front of him. Safe in his blanket, he blinked. Abandoned by humans, beggars had long since colonized the old warehouse. Another poke in the back.

"You going to lie there all day, lazy one?" came Saxin's voice.

He groaned and rolled over to look into the infertile's sparkling eyes. Sunlight already streamed into the building and he blinked again.

"Us night scroungers need beauty sleep as well." Saxin sat on her heels as she spoke, offering old vegetables as breakfast. Probably collected from a rubbish heap somewhere. Some places night scavengers visited were truly disgusting; Janin no longer asked. "Most of the day boys have gone. Only idlers like you left. Wind has finally dropped; looks like spring is here at last."

He lifted his hands in mock surrender and rolled free from the blanket. "I came back late."

"I noticed." The other sylph nodded. "Something bothers you as well; you cannot hide it from me."

"Someone followed me from the Guildsman. Probably one of those you saw come into the city."

"You be careful." Saxin eyed him with genuine concern. Only a handful of years older than he, they had spent a lot of time together when younger. She always looked after him with an almost motherly eye; maternal feelings where there should be none. She still treated him like a child, though he now stood taller.

"I am always careful. Thanks for breakfast, enjoy your sleep."

Saxin grinned before wrapping herself in her blanket in the same spot Janin had just vacated. "Happy begging." Moments later, she fell asleep.

Despite being one of the last to leave the old warehouse, Janin still had Senate Square pretty much to himself. As Saxin had said, the thin winter wind had dropped, but he still carried his blanket. The pavement chilled his feet; the blanket would be better to sit on than cold stone. He had not gone very far before last night's shivery feeling crept over him again.

All his instincts warned that somebody watched him and, worse, followed him. He looked over his shoulder.

Nothing. A couple of citizens chatting in the square, one throwing glances his way, and a Guardsman slowly patrolling. The uniformed man also had an eye on Janin, but the sylph suspected this was not the watcher. Guardsmen were bound to watch a sylph beggar crossing Senate Square.

He turned onto the main street and greeted the first beggar from a rival gang he had seen today. They were woken and sent out early by their gang masters; he pitied them. Like them, Janin craved the security of a good owner, but the human boys who controlled the gangs did not really own those sylphs they bullied and cajoled. They were users who took what they could and gave little back. Sylphs from the warehouse were usually left alone, but he would prefer to work on a farm. Anything but the indignity of begging.

He had never known anything but an itinerant's life. He did not know if he was a rejected sylph, one who once belonged to a farmer who had surrendered his farm, or a survivor from a raid. The older sylphs only told him that he had been found as an infant, wrapped against the cold in the depths of winter, abandoned by either his parents or a surrogate. He never felt bad about this: plenty of sylphs had worse tales.

This time Janin noticed something wrong when he glanced over his shoulder. A large man, ducking out of sight. His mental hackles rose. He definitely had a follower and now he knew who. The large man was one of the newcomers staying in the Guildsman.

"Seen you," he murmured to himself.

His fear abated now he had seen the follower. Should he return to his usual begging spot? Was he in danger? These people could not possibly know Sandev had tasked him to spy, but they followed him for a reason. They might suspect – or even worse, know! – that Sandev used him as a spy. He decided to carry on as normal, but if anyone from the Guildsman approached, he would run.

"I am no easy target," he growled under his breath.

Maintaining his pace, Janin turned another corner and risked another glance over his shoulder. This time, the big man was caught in the open and looked away from the sylph far too quickly to be innocent. A human might have missed it, but he did not. This man had caused his unease and probably also his nightmare.

Reaching the Guildsman, he spread his blanket opposite the tavern and dropped onto his heels. Lucky no other sylph had beaten him here. Perhaps he was not that late after all. Moments later, the large man appeared, glanced quickly at the beggar and disappeared inside.

Janin determined to watch and wait, while he continued with the serious business of begging for his living. The sylph smiled to himself: the men at the Guildsman had something to hide, or why would they worry about an insignificant sylph beggar?

***

Zenepha realized he had entered Marka's industrial quarter.

He had come here unconsciously. Nestled against the west wall, the industrial quarter had its own gate for importing raw materials, and almost all the important manufactories of Marka were here. Iron tools, weapons and ornamental goods were made here, and the Imperial Mint discreetly tucked away along an alley without even a sign to announce its presence... Wainwrights, carpenters, coopers, fletchers, wheelwrights, stonemasons, potters, metal workers... Every skill or process known to humans and sylphs was here somewhere. Most jewelers were scattered through the city, but their raw materials came from here: precious stones were cut here before being sold on, and ingots of precious metals were cast in the foundries. Bolts of cloth and wool were prepared here before being sold on to clothiers. The busiest blacksmiths were found in this part of the city.

The industrial quarter spilled outside the walls. Four tanneries and two soap makers were sited out there, presumably to keep the worst of their stink from wafting into the city proper. From his studies, Zenepha knew three-quarters of the population – human and sylph – worked here.

"Stop gawping and move aside!"

Zenepha stepped smartly off the road and flattened himself against the nearest wall as three men with handcarts bustled past. Apart from the rather abrupt call, the men ignored him once he moved out of their way and they hurried on. Once they were gone, he relaxed, but did not step back into the road.

Dark, windowless buildings oppressed his sight in every direction. There were too many sounds to concentrate on at once: hammering, sawing, shouting, screeching wheels, whinnies from horses, and whistles all beat in his ears. He wanted to tuck his earpoints away so he could no longer hear. Smells assaulted his nose: tar, pitch, wood smoke, burned stone, fresh timber, paint, horse dung, straw and stray stinks from over the wall. Some smells were so strong he could taste them. Polluted air caressed his skin and his bare feet threatened to skid on the greasy cobbles.

Thankful to be a domestic slave and not belong to an industrial owner, Zenepha found this an unpleasant place. Conditions could be terrible here for humans and sylphs alike. Most workers he saw looked happy enough, but many of the sylphs were ragged and all hurried about their tasks. Zenepha knew wages were not good, even by human standards. A goodly number of sylph slaves belonged to human workers, used to bring in extra cash for their owners.

Many sylphs here never saw their owners at all, as a few humans bought many sylphs, living off their wages as their own income. Such people annoyed Olista, but Zenepha could see no wrong in it. Were slaves not supposed to work for their owners? What difference between using a slave you saw every day and using one you did not?

As carts hurtled past, traveling much more quickly than they did through the rest of the city, Zenepha kept out of the way. The drivers didn't much care who got in the way in the more genteel areas, so he supposed they would be even more dangerous here.

Despite the bustle, knots of people gathered here and there, talking in low voices. As Zenepha watched, the noise lessened a little as humans left their work, pausing to speak with colleagues. There was a slow drift towards the main part of the city, and an expectant buzz filled the air. He failed to discover the cause.

Swept along in this new movement of people, he gratefully escaped the industrial quarter. He supposed workers grew used to the racket and stench here, but he could not. Soon back in the main part of the city, he took deep lungfuls of purer air.

He had only been in the industrial quarter for a few minutes, but the streets crackled with anticipation. Something was going on and he wanted to know what. At last, he could overhear conversations.

"They were seen yesterday, coming down from the Candin Plain."

"They're setting up camp outside the northern gate."

"Forestside?"

"Are they laying siege?"

"Have they surrounded the city?"

Humans and sylphs alike swapped rumors.

"Who is it?" Zenepha asked a human woman.

"An army, a big one. They've come down from the plain and are camping outside the walls."

Zenepha drew in a breath. Only the arrival of the Vintners could cause this much excitement. He picked his way toward the North Gate, but the closer he came, the denser the crush of people and the louder the hum of wondering voices. He reached Senate Square and realized he could get no closer.

People hung flags wherever they found room: both the gold and green of Marka, and the gold dragon's head of the Vintner family. He looked around at the sea of pleased faces. Sylph earpoints twitched everywhere he looked and human eyes shone. The sylphs were numerous, but Zenepha saw that humans were leaving their places of work to catch a glimpse of the man who wanted to be their Emperor. History was being made this very morning.

"What's going on? Anything happening?"

Zenepha hid a smile. There were always those who followed a crowd without ever knowing why it had gathered. The speaker earned some strange looks, but nobody enlightened him.

The crowd surged and a collective sigh boomed in his ears. He strained to see, aware that someone – several someones – headed towards the coronation building. He thought he glimpsed his owner among them, but a knot of taller Senators and Supreme Councilors hid Olista from view as they dashed up the steps. Moments later, human and sylph girls left the building, lining the steps to give welcome.

A cheer rose from the direction of the North Gate, spreading like fire in a dry summer. Zenepha remained silent, wanting to see rather than shout. Nobody would notice if he stayed quiet.

"It's them! The Vintners!"

Zenepha rose up on his toes, then able to see over the heads of most people.

City Guardsmen led the way, keeping back the more adventurous who tried to push forward. They were followed by a detachment of mounted men, obviously from the army outside the gates. Their armor and weapons were different enough to show they were not from Marka. Two large horses followed, decked out in the colors of the Vintner family, their riders similarly armored and wearing surcoats boasting the Vintner Arms. Both men boasted dark brown hair curling over their ears. Immediately behind rode a bannerman, carrying the Vintner Banner. Everything was gold on dark blue, with the exception of one of the riders. One surcoat boasted the gold dragon's head on a pale blue field.

An infertile sylph walked, quite at her ease, beside the stirrup of the leading horse. Zenepha stared briefly at her, thinking she appeared scruffily dressed for one who served someone important, then remembered that the army had been traveling for some time. The men weren't the most pristine he had ever seen, either.

All his thoughts were banished as another collective sigh rose from the crowd.

Zenepha wondered if the apparitions were sylphs at all. Both were gray and green and brown, instead of blue. Some sort of paint covered their skin. Vivid black slashes stood out across the face and chest of one, and both wore short breeches also painted gray, green and brown. Both had very short hair, unusual for sylphs. Silvery gray eyes, pointed ears and black collars about their necks were the only normal things about them. They _were_ sylphs, they must be.

He continued to stare as the strangers passed him, carrying themselves with considerably more self-confidence than Zenepha expected from his race.

"What's been done to those sylphs?" he overheard a small child ask.

What indeed? He wondered what part those two played in the Vintner Army.

***

Olista looked around the Senate. His heart beat much faster than normal as excitement coursed through him. Senators and High Councilors were packed into the Senate, with only just enough chairs. Even though not in the Coronation Hall, as Supreme Councilor he presided. Two of the many claimants to the Markan Throne stood to one side. Marcus Vintner's personal sylph stood with her owner. He gave the sylph a neutral expression; sylphs never entered the Senate except to clean it. But he could not simply shoo her out, despite her somewhat threadbare appearance. If Lanas tolerated her presence, that was the end of the matter. Olista doubted if many even noticed her.

Sandev had assured Olista that one of these two men would be defeated in battle, which he understood to be true. Marcus had bested Branad Vintner, but the older man looked anything but beaten. The Senate and Supreme Council, sitting in the same place for the first time in two-and-a-half centuries, were silent. The leader of the Senate stood.

"We have assembled to welcome two of the claimants to the newly recognized Throne," intoned Lanas, formally. "I introduce to you all, Marcus Marcus Vintner –"

Marcus, his dark blue eyes thoughtful as he glanced at his fellow claimant, smiled at the polite applause that met the Senate leader's words.

"– and Branad Ulvic Vintner."

Branad, his blue eyes equally thoughtful, inclined his head, but did not smile at his applause.

Olista now spoke. "We on the Supreme Council invited to the city those we believe to have the strongest claims to the Throne. We on the Supreme Council recommend to the Senate that they debate the merits of each of these candidates and make their views known to us. One of these men will be Emperor of Marka."

A stunned hush met his words. An elderly Senator, a supporter of Enthan of the Imperial Republic, finally broke the silence.

"We cannot make our views known if only two of the claimants are here," he complained. "There at least two other candidates who should have been invited."

"Senator Cleran, it is not the task of the Senate to recommend the claimants; that is the Supreme Council's remit, and we have recommended these men." Olista looked displeased at the interruption.

"Also," added another Senator, "it must be noted that Marcus Marcus Vintner is the _son_ of the true claimant of his side of the family. His father is still alive."

"My father renounced his claim to the Throne six years ago." Marcus Vintner's self-assured voice carried well. "He is now sixty and says that he is too old to reunite our lands."

"The laws of Succession are quite clear," retorted the same Senator.

"Senator Aelfrec, I again remind you that it is within the remit of the Supreme Council –"

Olista was cut short as Aelfrec held up a hand and continued to speak in a firmer voice. "The _law_ cannot be ignored or pushed aside on the say-so of _anyone_ ," he insisted.

"The laws of Succession allow any man to renounce his claim to the Throne," replied Olista.

"Provided he does so before the Senate," argued Aelfrec. "In person."

"Until yesterday there was no Throne!" shouted a Senator from the back of the mass of politicians. "These are the two claimants put before us."

"One of whom is defeated in battle," pointed out Marcus, after a sideways glance at Branad.

"We shall decide the merits of defeat in battle," smiled Senator Lanas.

Marcus bowed his head again.

"This may take some time." Branad sniffed. "We should all sit."

Olista nodded acceptance and everybody took their seats. Once comfortable, the debate began to rage again.

"We cannot accept a recommendation when it is the son of a claimant and not the claimant himself."

"Only two claimants are here; we should have invited them all."

"All of them? Imagine the bloodbath!"

"Think of Hingast within the walls."

"I _dream_ of Hingast within the walls. He will be an excellent Emperor."

Both Olista and Lanas tried and failed to restore some order. Marcus Vintner silenced them.

"I have long wondered how Marka allowed herself to slip into barbarism, collapse and decline," he began. Because he spoke quietly, those nearest struggled to hear; soon, everyone strained their ears to catch his words. "Marka, jewel of the world, seat of civilization, protector of the Key." He looked around before continuing.

"Some of you ask why only two claimants have been summoned. Is it not enough that the political masters of Marka have seen how the various claimants behave and drawn conclusions? One of you demanded to know why Enthan was not called here, another why not Hingast.

"Do you really wish to be ruled by the Imperial Republic? Yes, Enthan is a Vintner, but he comes from an ancient branch of the family, even less closely related to me than Cousin Branad here. And the Imperial Republic operates in a totally alien way compared with Marka. You want Hingast's rule? Have you forgotten what he did to the Prefecture of Sabla? You want him here?" Marcus snorted. "You question why it is I and not my father who claims the Throne, yet some of you would welcome a man who would destroy this city on a whim. If you want me to send for my father, I will do so gladly and he will either again stake his claim or renounce it. But in Siranva's name, stop squabbling among yourselves!"

Everybody, Senator and Councilor, stared at the younger Vintner in surprise.

Marcus snorted again. "Do you think we are just warriors? That we are blind? We have seen what you have tried to do with Marka and, in many ways, we salute your efforts. But never think that we were or are ignorant. I am happy to submit to the political will, which is, or is supposed to be, the people's will of this great and glorious city. Do you think Hingast will allow you the same privilege? He is on the move, coming this way. Our army can help protect you from Hingast. But time's running out. And it is time, gentlefolk, to decide. Wait for Hingast to arrive and force you to a rushed decision, which will likely be unsatisfactory as all hasty actions are, or make your minds up now. Calmly, reasonably."

"Instead of Hingast, it is you who forces us to a hasty decision."

Heads twisted, but Olista could not see the guilty Senator.

Marcus smiled. "I force you to nothing. Decide against us, and we ride away. Decide against Hingast and he will destroy this city. Think carefully and choose wisely."

Olista tapped his fingernails against the arms of his chair. "Now, can we please return to the debate regarding which of these claimants the Senate will recommend to the Supreme Council?"

As the debate raged again, the Senate split into four factions. Just over one-third supported Branad Vintner and another third supported Marcus Vintner. However, the latter faction was split between those who accepted Marcus Junior and those who wanted his father. The fourth faction was an alliance between the supporters of Hingast and Enthan. Olista doubted if any other claimant would be put forward. The Senate was not supposed to tell the Supreme Council whom it could recommend to its attention and Olista suspected Hingast supporters in the Supreme Council had encouraged the Senators to rebel.

He glanced at the public gallery, packed for the first time he could remember, but he saw no sign of Sandev. Trust her to stay away now. Her plan that the two Vintners should meet so one could defeat the other had misfired. That Branad Vintner had lost the battle seemed to have had no effect on the factions. Even now he had not renounced his claim; a hint that the renowned mercy of Marcus Vintner should perhaps have been set aside for one day. Yet he recognized the need for that mercy. Marcus Vintner's chances were increased the more Prefectures he had under his control and, as importantly, how large an army he commanded. If Hingast was coming, fortunate indeed that both Vintners still lived.

Olista glanced at them. If Marcus felt betrayed by Branad, he showed no sign. That the younger man had political gifts was beyond doubt; he had brought the Senate to silence by speaking quietly and seemingly without effort on his part. Sandev was right: Marcus Vintner was the man to be Emperor and bloodlines had nothing to do with it.

***

Outside the coronation building, Zenepha waited with the crowds, their voices mingling into a low hum that hung in the air. He saw human and sylph beggars picking pockets as they pushed through the throng.

Everybody realized that something momentous was happening inside, but Zenepha knew they would hear no major announcement today. He would be surprised if the Senate could decide quickly which of the two claimants should take the Throne. If they made their minds up at all. Guardsmen stood outside with some of the Vintner soldiers, all outwardly relaxed. Close to the outlander soldiers, the two painted sylphs crouched on the ground.

Zenepha watched them with interest. Sitting on their heels, they took turns to throw dice. Whenever someone passed, they glanced up and earpoints twitched, more alert than the soldiers around them. Guardsmen kept nobody away: more people had gone into the Senate, presumably to the public gallery, than normally entered in a month and more thronged the steps. A few paused to speak to the outlanders. But they all stayed away from the sylphs, perhaps unsure of them.

Zenepha decided he would speak to them.

He crossed the square and approached the steps. The City Guardsmen looked away and the outlander soldiers stared at him. The two painted sylphs were aware of his approach: their silvery gray eyes regarded him without expression and their earpoints stilled. One of the outlander soldiers stepped forward to block his way.

"What can we do for you?"

"It's all right," interrupted one of the Guardsmen. "This one is with the Supreme Councilor."

The soldier nodded and stepped back.

"You belong to Olista- _ya_?" asked one of the sylphs, staring at the newcomer.

"I am Zenepha- _y_ -Olista." He dropped onto his heels. "May I join you?" This close, he realized the sylph with the black slashes across his face and chest was taller than him, the talkative one perhaps a little shorter.

"I am Neptarik- _y_ -Balnus," replied the same sylph. "I belong to Balnus." He nodded to the soldier who had temporarily halted Zenepha's progress.

Zenepha looked at the silent, taller, sylph, who blinked and shrugged.

"I am Belaika- _y_ -Marcus."

Zenepha's eyes widened and his earpoints shot bolt upright. "You are Marcus Vintner's sylph?" His voice almost squeaked. "The Emperor?"

Belaika's eyes narrowed and his earpoints lashed forwards and back before returning to their normal position. "You support him as Emperor?"

"My owner does. My views are irrelevant."

Neptarik smiled as he eyed Zenepha's silver collar. "True, you are a slave, too."

Zenepha changed the subject. He wasn't interested in thrones, or who sat on them. "Are you warriors?"

Belaika and Neptarik exchanged glances and soft laughter. The shorter sylph replied.

"We scout for the army," said Neptarik. "We see more than humans, and report back quicker. We scout, but do not fight. We are not warriors."

Zenepha grinned with relief. Ever since he had first seen the two sylphs, he worried that the human taste for violence had spread to his own race. "Is this paint?"

"Skin paint," replied Neptarik. "Hides us in the field."

Zenepha nodded. "Blend in better." He looked up. "Not in cities, though. You stand out and cannot hide."

Belaika rejoined the conversation. "Humans see only what they expect to see. Stand still, do not blink and humans will walk past without ever seeing you. Move a muscle, and they see. Stillness is best." He glanced around him. "We passed many sylph beggars. Have they no owners to care for them properly?"

"Bandits attack farms," explained Zenepha. "They kill the farmers, but spare the sylphs, who have nowhere to go. Many stay out there, but others flee to the city."

"Where they are forced to beg." Belaika sounded unimpressed and his earpoints sagged a little. He glanced up at the coronation building. "The rulers should do something. That is the agreement: humans give security and sylphs give service. They need workers and we need owners."

Zenepha blinked. "Perhaps Marcus- _ya_ will do that." He did not add that some humans did not deserve to own any sylph; that some owners abused, rather than used, those for whom they were responsible.

Belaika nodded. " _Enya_ says he will protect the countryside as it should be protected. Then, sylphs who live on the streets can find owners and be happy. As it should be."

"Of course, the wild sylphs may colonize it instead," interrupted Neptarik.

"If they stay wild much longer," retorted Belaika. "I doubt if –"

"Wait, wait." Zenepha looked from one of the scouts to the other. "Are you saying you have _wild_ sylphs with you?"

The scouts exchanged another look.

"We found a slave caravan on the way here," replied Belaika, getting friendlier and more talkative by the moment. "We freed the captives, but they have nowhere to go. They say that they only travel with us until they find somewhere to live, but I think they will ask to stay before much longer." He gave an ironic laugh. "I wonder what the slavers will say then."

"It is a crime to take wild sylphs against their will," remarked Zenepha. "Where are the slavers now?"

" _Enya_ brought them with us. They will be handed over to Markan justice."

Zenepha nodded. "You think they will be punished?"

" _Enya_ thinks probably not. Until I am shown different, I agree."

"Your owner is wise." Zenepha sighed.

Neptarik rattled the dice in his cup and threw them.

"Twelve," said Belaika, before they came to rest.

"Eight," replied the other sylph, before rattling the dice again.

"Six," said Belaika.

"Seven," grunted Neptarik.

Zenepha looked from one to the other. "What is the point of this game?" he asked.

Both pairs of silvery gray eyes regarded him solemnly.

"To pass time," replied Neptarik, eventually.

At that moment, there was movement on the steps above. The soldiers came ready and the crowd stirred. The two Vintner claimants had left the Senate. Slaves scurried to bring the impressive horses, and Zenepha took a step backwards, away from the scouts. The claimants came down the steps, the one with the darkest eyes joining the sylph scouts. The infertile Zenepha had earlier seen heeled this claimant. She smiled warmly at Belaika, but shook her head at his raised eyebrows and slanted-forwards earpoints. She glanced sideways at Zenepha, eyes cool.

Zenepha bowed to both the claimant and in respect to the two scouts. Belaika smiled at the Markan sylph before turning his attention to his owner, while Neptarik inclined his head. Zenepha stayed on the steps and watched the troops and their leaders move away, until people blocked his view of them. He looked up.

" _Enya_ ," he said, acknowledging the presence.

"Enjoying your day off?" asked Olista.

"It is... interesting. The younger one is Marcus Vintner?"

"Yes. He is impressive." Olista glanced down at his sylph. "Very impressive. How did you get on with the scouts?"

Zenepha nodded. "They do not fight, only scout. I had no idea sylphs could be used for these things."

"Yours is a surprising race, my boy. I've always told you that. You all have hidden talents; if only you showed them more often."

Thinking this to be dangerous ground, Zenepha hastily changed the subject. "Have the Senate agreed to anything?"

"Such as recommending one of them?" Olista shook his head. "Not a chance. The faction that should support Marcus is divided between him and his father. Even if they joined, the vote would still be split between Marcus and Branad."

"Why did they split?" Zenepha blinked.

"They feel Marcus's father should come to Marka to renounce his claim before the Senate. Personally, I feel the Senate resents having no say in which claimants we invited in the first place, so they're exercising every right they have, just to be awkward. It was ever thus between Senate and Council."

"I see."

"As I understand it, Branad Vintner lost the battle, but he has not renounced his claim yet."

"Will he?"

"Perhaps. Life would certainly be simpler if he did. A faction supports him, and others support Enthan or Hingast."

Zenepha suppressed a shudder. "I hoped their arrival would make Markan politics a little easier," he said, boldly venturing his opinion without waiting for permission.

"It may make a slight difference eventually," replied Olista, indifferent to his sylph's insubordination. "Though I doubt anything will ever make Markan politics any easier. I don't know if Sandev is still coming to see you tomorrow evening; this turn of events may force her to cancel."

Zenepha shrugged. "I do not mind."

"I hope the Senate and Supreme Council realize that those men camping outside Marka with their armies – they work together for the moment – can take this city easily, should they wish."

Zenepha's eyes widened. "Do you think they will?"

"The Vintners falling out and fighting immediately outside the gates worries me more." Olista glanced up at the sun. "Late morning. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. I know somewhere to eat. Want to come with me?"

The sylph dropped his gaze. " _Se bata_ ," he replied. His question remained unanswered, but he had not forgotten it. He glanced after the departing Vintners and hoped that the Senate would choose wisely – and soon.

***

The boy was breathless as he reported to Marlen and Petan. His voice squeaked with excitement as words spilled from his mouth. "Marcus Vintner and Branad Vintner are both in the city, with grand horses and lots of soldiers. There are more outside the city, they say there are thousands and thousands –"

Marlen opened his mouth, but didn't have a chance.

"– and they've got _sylph_ warriors as well. Painted in gray and green and black so you can't see 'em till they jump up at you. They say they can kill you with a look cos they don't have no other weapon. I saw 'em myself, just from a distance to be safe and they look really scary. But though the Vintners are here, the Senate can't agree which one to make Emperor and –"

"Thank you." Marlen forced a smile, though he wanted to slap the irritating messenger into silence. "You have done well; you may go." He tossed a silver coin to the boy, who snatched it out of the air and secreted it away.

"Thank you, sir." The boy bowed and left the room.

Marlen and Petan exchanged a glance. "Painted sylphs? New one on me. We'll have to find someone to carry messages who's a little less... excitable... in future. I thought he was going to choke, he couldn't get his words out fast enough. I wonder how much he embellished?"

"Like the sylph warriors." Petan chuckled to himself. "Sylph warriors!"

Marlen snorted. "Most sylphs find it difficult to keep their footing in strong winds, they're too light. Even a young child can pick up and carry an adult sylph. They'd be all but useless as warriors. _If_ you could persuade one to pick up a weapon and do violence in the first place."

"It's not the first report to mention painted sylphs," pointed out Petan. "Everyone has mentioned them. What are they for?"

Marlen nodded. "Not warriors. They're too... _timid_. I'll wager my best coat to the undergarments you wore all last month that they are messengers, or something like that."

Petan managed a smile. Rare when Marlen made jokes and when he did, they were usually at someone else's expense. "Scouts?" he hazarded.

"That would explain the paint." Marlen stroked his chin. "Intelligence gatherers. Scouts. Messengers."

Petan nodded approval. "Good idea, whoever thought of it. They'll be good for that and the paint will help camouflage them."

"But the sylphs aren't the problem, they're not even an annoyance." Marlen brought the discussion back on track. "The two Vintners are the problem."

"Kill them," suggested Petan.

"Gaining what? Both have sons. Branad's is grown, I believe."

"Their combined army will protect the city. Hingast cannot easily overcome this many men."

Marlen smiled. "Our Emperor has more than a few tricks he can use to defeat the Vintners. It's quite easy to tie down large numbers of soldiers by forcing them to spread all over the land. A series of raids..."

As Marlen continued to speak, Petan's smile broadened and he began to feel much happier. The Vintners wouldn't know what had hit them.

***
**Chapter 5**

Roads To Marka

Zandra Ems, wife of Marcus Vintner, opened the carriage door and stepped down, followed by Eleka- _y_ -Belaika, heavy with child. Guard Commander Mansard Dullas turned to regard her, his dark blue eyes expressionless. In the middle distance, the remains of a wrecked caravan and clouds of squabbling carrion birds were clear to the eye. Closer, a doubled-up sylph scout retched between swilling his mouth with water and spitting it out. Scouts needed no camouflage on this mission, but old habits died hard with sylphs, so he wore his paint and scouting breeches. His wives flanked him, offering comfort and sympathy.

Most Guard Commanders would have rushed Zandra back inside the armored carriage, fearing the woman they believed destined to be empress might be harmed. Mansard had watched her grow up and – much to her mother's horror – taught her the sword. He felt more secure in his position and rarely interfered with her wishes. Whenever he advised caution, she listened. She did not always agree with his professional judgment, but she respected it, and obeyed accordingly.

The Guard were fully trained soldiers and the personal guard of the Vintner family. There were only three ranks beneath the Supreme Guard Commander: Guard Commander, Guard Lieutenant and Guard Officer. Pay higher than for ordinary soldiers always attracted plenty of volunteers, so senior officers always chose the best.

Zandra glanced compassionately at the scout before turning to Eleka. "Back inside with you," she ordered. "Whatever's over there is not nice."

" _Se bata_." The pregnant sylph bobbed her head and darted back into the carriage.

"You are quite right," intoned Mansard. "It is not nice over there." He glanced at the sylph scout, who quivered as if suffering from fever. "Bascon has seen many things, but he's never reacted like this before."

At the mention of his name the scout looked up, eyes and earpoints betraying misery. Seeing he wasn't wanted, he returned to staring at the ground and dry heaving.

Mansard continued. "I've sent some of the lads to bury the bodies."

"Many dead?"

"Four men, five women, six children and five sylphs. The caravan's empty now, but I wonder if there was any need to slaughter the people. None had weapons and it looks like they offered no trouble to their attackers."

Zandra understood the unspoken part. Glancing around at the men in their purple cloaks and purple-lined helmets, she knew that, hardened as they were, they saw no point in killing people who offered no resistance. Their eyes were tight with anger and revulsion. She could almost feel sorry for those responsible if these men caught them. Almost. "I'd like to go and see."

Mansard looked startled. "There's no obvious danger, ma'am, but it's not a pretty sight over there. They've been dead since maybe last night, and the carrion eaters have been at them."

Zandra glanced again at Bascon, who still shook and heaved, then steeled herself. "Take me across, Commander."

Mansard inclined his head and beckoned for a spare horse. The door of the carriage creaked open and Zandra looked around.

"You will stay here, Eleka. _Sna alut_."

Eleka's earpoints twitched. " _Se batut._ But, _anya_ , I would like to go to Callie and Sallie while we are stopped."

Zandra paused before nodding assent. It would be cruel to keep a mother from her daughters. Zandra's three daughters and infant son were under the care of their governess, in the carriage behind her own. Kaira would keep them inside and away from the horror of the caravan. When she returned, she would visit them. She watched as Belaika's wife, taking her time, made her way to the carriage that held most of the sylphs.

She mounted the horse brought to her. "I'm ready, Guard Commander."

Mansard touched his shoulder with a fist, before touching spurs to the flanks of his horse.

The journey was short. Zandra enjoyed feeling the wind on her face, no matter how short the distance traveled. The racket from the carrion eaters as the men again chased them off spoiled the ride. Her horse whickered and snorted as they came to a halt.

Thankfully, the stench of death did not hang in the air; none of them had been dead long enough for that. As Mansard had warned, the sights were not pleasant. Three Guard Officers dug a large grave for the corpses now laid face down in an attempt to keep the carrion off. Zandra knew what the birds would have eaten first.

Even if early in the year for flies, a few gathered around and on the bodies, rising in small clouds whenever someone approached. Gaping wounds where skin and muscle had been stripped away to leave protruding bones were very much in evidence but she knew carrion eaters, not human murderers, were responsible for that.

Seeing the smaller bodies saddened her and she sighed at the sylphs' blue corpses among the rest. The raiders had even less reason to kill the sylphs than their owners.

"We'll bury them together," said Mansard. "Even the sylphs." He sucked in breath over his teeth. "Difficult to tell in some places what belongs to which corpse."

Zandra nodded. "What about the caravan?" she asked.

"We'll leave it," replied the Guard Commander. "The wagons are empty and the horses have been either driven away or stolen."

"All right," she said, quietly. "I've seen enough. As soon as we're finished here, we move on. One more thing. If we catch the people who did this, they will face the wrath of the law, in accordance with the law." She looked at Mansard. "If we catch them attacking another caravan, I know you will act to protect those in danger."

Mansard nodded. "As you say. I will pass your instructions to the men."

Returning, Zandra paused beside Bascon, who had recovered some of his usual spirit. Dismounting, she patted the sylph on his shoulder and he looked up, earpoints briefly twitching upwards. She turned to Mansard.

"Your sylph deserves a rest," she said. "Someone else can scout ahead when we move on. We do still have human scouts?"

"We do."

Bascon stared at Mansard, his eyes betraying a desire to speak. Mansard nodded.

" _Donanya_." The sylph bowed his head. "Thank you for your kind words, but I rest when we stop again. I am fine."

Both female sylphs looked at the scout and one thinned her lips. Bascon held up a hand and both sniffed in disapproval.

"Very well." Zandra smiled, exchanged a look with Mansard and turned away, surrendering the reins of her horse to an officer. She made her way to the carriage behind hers, where the delighted yells of her children greeted her.

She hoped they were safe.

***

Bascon found an excellent place to stop for the night and Zandra marveled at his ability for finding good halts. Sheltered on three-and-a-half sides by trees and bushes, a stream gave plenty of water for cooking and drinking. Little wind found its way through the trees and bushes and, even better, the carriages were all but hidden from the road. The sylph said he thought the campsite had been made at some point, but in Zandra's view, this did not detract from his achievement.

Once the carriages had formed their defensive ring, the guardsmen curried the horses, checked hooves for anything out of place and ensured the animals were fed. The sylphs and officers' wives prepared a meal, all under the watchful eye of Mansard's senior wife, Kelecan.

A disapproving scowl twisted her face as, hands on hips, she watched everyone at their tasks. Most stepped carefully around her, though Zandra noted that sylphs belonging to Mansard showed no wariness whatsoever.

Growing up in Calcan, she had always liked the company of "Aunt" Kelecan. Zandra knew that Kelecan respected only her husband. She ruled his household absolutely, ready to crush all dissent with strong words and hard stares. Zandra could not choose whether husband or wife was the harder.

A sense of calm soon returned to the carriages after the bustle of setting up camp. Kelecan's blood pressure receded slightly and several sylphs, blue-faced with mortification, washed up under her direction. None belonged to Mansard. The Guard Commander stood beside the road, chatting with his scout. Zandra crossed to join them.

"Good evening, Zandra." Mansard bowed and Bascon followed his example. "Looks to be a fine night ahead, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately? I tire of mists and cloudy nights."

"Fine nights are known as raiders' nights in some parts." Mansard's gaze riveted her in place. "As we have seen today, these are certainly raiders' lands. With your permission, I'll double the guard."

Zandra nodded, but said nothing. Mansard would double the guard with or without her permission and she would not even call him down for it. He was the soldier. She turned to the sylph. "Have you recovered?"

The sylph bobbed his head again. "Yes, _donanya_." His earpoints twitched and he colored slightly, obviously embarrassed by his earlier shock.

"Go and see if Kelecan needs help with anything," commanded Mansard.

" _Se bata._ " Bascon bowed and left.

Mansard watched him go with an amused look. "That lad doesn't know what's happening to him one day to the next," he chuckled. "He loves the field, but misses his wives whenever he's in it. When at home, he whines incessantly to get out in the field again. Now, he's in the field _and_ his wives are here."

Zandra raised an eyebrow. "Haven't they helped settle him?"

Mansard laughed aloud. "Aye, Mayula and Geneha want to settle him right enough. Trouble is that they both gang up on him about it and then wonder why he wants to bolt for a bit. He still hopes that I'll return to frontline service." He lowered his voice. "He feels they're too demanding."

"Too demanding?" Understanding dawned and Zandra covered a giggle with a hand. "Poor Bascon!"

"I don't think he can survive them being here while he's in the field. He wanted them to follow in the next caravan from Calcan with the rest of my family." Mansard chuckled. "But they insisted on traveling with this one."

Zandra nodded. Of course, several caravans would leave Calcan, bringing more soldiers' families with them, all protected by more soldiers, some of whom would travel between Marka and Calcan several times before everything and everyone were again in place. More of Mansard's household and half her own staff followed in the next caravan.

"Two more days," continued the Guard Commander, "and we should be in Marka."

"I look forward to seeing the city," smiled Zandra.

"Everybody does," replied Mansard. "Everyone should see Marka at least once in a lifetime. Though I reserve judgment until I see it for myself."

***

Hingast Rexiter stood in his stirrups and swore. He clutched the spear in his right hand and sawed ferociously at his reins with the other. His head turned, seeking his prey. Stilling his prancing horse, he settled back to listen for movement or panicky breathing. The sylph hid from the hunter somewhere nearby. Hingast waited; the creature could probably see him and would now lie low until the predator left. He stood in his stirrups again, trying to see. Despite their blue skin, sylphs were very good at hiding in almost any terrain. A problem that added interest to the hunt. A sylph became almost invisible when he lay still. He glanced towards the forest, certain his quarry had not reached the safety of the trees. Once the sylph was in there, Hingast knew he would lose him. And a good escape, which he would respect.

The rhythmic thrumming of hooves on the hard ground swung Hingast's head around. Who dared interrupt his hunt? His blue-gray eyes widened as he recognized Dervra, his closest advisor. And the only person in the world Hingast feared. Not that he ever showed it, of course.

"You will allow my kill to escape," he complained.

Dervra looked unconcerned. His iron-gray hair flapped in the wind and his lined face betrayed no emotion. "There are more important things to worry about than escaped sylphs," he retorted, dark blue eyes glittering. "Both Vintners have arrived in Marka."

Hingast did not ask how Dervra came by his information, only that he could believe whatever the man chose to pass on from his intelligence. Hingast respected – and feared – the power of the man, one of the Ten. He sometimes wondered if the Ten were immortal as rumor claimed, but the older man always seemed to know when Hingast's thoughts were murderous. Hingast tried to avoid all ideas or mental pictures of killing his advisor. If the rumors were true, he would fail if he tried. A lingering death probably awaited anyone brave or foolhardy enough to plunge the knife into Dervra's ribs. Or even try.

"Did they arrive together?"

"Of course."

Hingast sniffed. Although he pressed his claim to the Markan Throne, he knew he had little chance of the Supreme Council recommending him. To claim his inheritance, he must take Marka by force. How he looked forward to that day! He continued to scan the wild scrubland for the missing sylph before turning back to Dervra.

"There are more lands to conquer before I am ready for Marka," he said, eventually.

"When the Vintners unite, they will be strong enough to crush you."

"When I appear outside Marka's gates, they will unite against me anyway," he retorted. "Even if my men in Marka do their work better than expected, they will still be stronger."

Dervra inclined his head. "I have other contacts in Marka. The Vintners are about to suffer quite badly, I fear. They –"

Hingast glimpsed something blue moving from the corner of his eye and dug spurs into his mount's ribs, galloping after the fleeing sylph with a delighted whoop. In seconds, he had run the unfortunate creature down and his spear flashed in the sunlight.

Thin cries, fading almost immediately to nothing, reached Dervra's ears. He sighed; he couldn't care less what happened to the sylph, but he felt slightly piqued that Hingast had so rudely dashed off before he had finished speaking. He watched as the claimant returned, cleaning his spear.

Carrion birds already circled above, waiting for the live humans to get out of the way so the feeding frenzy could begin. Blue meat was better than no meat and by nightfall, little would be left of the dead sylph but scattered bones.

The glint of bloodlust was still present in Hingast's blue-gray eyes. "Very well. I shall do as you suggest. We'll continue to march on Marka."

"Your Majesty is wise and will, if I may say so, make an excellent Emperor." The advisor smiled, masking his true thoughts.

Hingast bared his teeth. "When I have destroyed Marka, I will build us a new empire."

Dervra smiled, but said nothing.

***

"Outside with you."

Aylos Jalan shooed the two sylphs and single human out of the stone barn. He had worked here ever since an experiment had gone disastrously wrong and caused his compatriots in the industrial quarter to raise a petition against him. Marka's Supreme Council could not ignore a petition with so many signatures.

So, while discreetly continuing to support him financially, the Council had politely suggested his work might best be done outside the city walls. Far outside the city walls.

After initial protests, Aylos had grown used to the quiet outside the city and quickly established himself at the old farm. The whitewashed farmhouse with its thatched roof offered warmth and comfort, and the barn, once converted, had proved an adequate laboratory. His family remained in the city, but his two sylphs and human apprentice had come out here with him.

Not a typical man of science, Aylos was almost entirely self-taught. Apprenticed at age fifteen, after his early work on fire-causing powders first came to the attention of the authorities, his master had shown little interest and signed him off as qualified for the Guild quickly to be rid of him. Many believed Aylos mad, but he knew different. More importantly, the Supreme Councilor thought the same. Firepowder could – would – make Marka invincible.

Aylos repeated the shooing motion. "Are we leaving today? Lovely spring day out there, you know."

Prototype rockets stood around the walls of the barn. Some were intended to be fired into the air to rain fire on an enemy, or explode to frighten his horses. Others were supposed to be fired directly at an enemy, exploding the moment they hit something.

Only he couldn't get the mix for the powder exactly right.

Aylos stared again at the black explosive. The last lot had fizzed in a most satisfying manner, but had failed to power anything. The two sylphs had spent weeks making fresh powder with more charcoal and that crushed to a finer grade. This time, he trusted things would go according to plan.

He picked up the small metal container, which held the wooden ball of firepowder. It should explode. He attached the fuse and left a good length.

He looked up again, disappointed that nobody had moved. "Outside. Now," he snapped.

Despite his irritated tone, his sylphs crowded him as he left the barn, eagerness lighting their eyes. They were as excited about the experiment as their owner. The apprentice, a young man rapidly approaching his majority, followed more sedately. Obert was always rather more laid back than his master. He ignored Aylos's irritability as easily as the sylphs. Obedience clearly meant different things to the young and sylphs these days.

The area Aylos used for his trials lay well away from the buildings. A stone wall within running distance of the small pit had been built for observers to hide behind. Unfortunately, everyone had grown a little blase about the need as every experiment so far had failed. It now caused some trouble.

"Baylan, Tredden, behind the wall please."

The sylphs' earpoints wilted slightly.

"No arguments." Aylos stared at them, his pale blue eyes hard.

"But, _enya_ , it has never been dangerous –"

Aylos cut Tredden off before he could go much further. "No argument," he commanded. "Behind the wall."

As the two sylphs obeyed sulkily, Aylos helped Obert set up the box. He ensured the wooden ball still held the fuse, which he poked through the metal container, leaving a long lead. Obert passed the burning slowmatch to his master. The older man nodded and the apprentice trotted to the wall to join the two sylphs in safety. Aylos put the match to the fuse. Once sure it was burning, he ran across the short distance to shelter. This had better work.

"Any second now," he whispered.

Tredden sniffed, still sore at being cut short. Baylan kept his head down.

A muffled boom reached them and the ground shook for a split second. The sylphs, eyes wide, stared at their master. Aylos and Obert grinned at each other before emerging from behind the wall. And for once, the sylphs were happy to follow, rather than run ahead.

The metal container lay on one side, lid blown off and body distorted. Of the wooden ball, only blackened shards remained.

"It worked!"

Obert did not shout, but his pale green eyes glittered with excitement.

Aylos danced on the spot. "It bloody worked! Oh, thank you, Siranva! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Obert cleared his throat. "I suppose we must trial the rockets now," he suggested.

"Yes, yes, yes." Aylos's eyes glistened. His tone suddenly changed. "There isn't enough powder to trial all of them."

Obert shrugged, but remained silent. He knew there wasn't enough powder to trial the rockets; he'd told the sylphs not to make too much in case this batch also proved a failure. No point in wasting effort on something that might not be a success. Now it had worked and someone had a _lot_ of work to do. He glanced at the sylphs. Two someones.

Tredden looked annoyed, his earpoints lashing to and fro. "I suppose we must make more of that powder," he grumbled, showing the perception common in sylphs.

"Yes you must," agreed Aylos, absently. "And to the same standard, or I'll have your ears!"

***

Verdin Vintner, son of the claimant Branad Vintner, was just twenty-one years old and the nominal Crown Prince of a Markan Empire that did not yet exist. He reveled in his freedom from the armored carriage. His mother, sisters, half-sisters and his father's second wife stayed in the carriage, as they had since leaving the plain. Verdin had no idea if his father had met and clashed with Marcus Vintner there, or even whether he still lived, but he harbored no regrets about leaving Candin Plain. A sizeable battle had occurred there only days before. His female relatives chose to fear the worst and refused to leave the carriage. He turned to Marshal Mikhan Annada.

"Is there no way of telling who won the battle?" he asked, for the fortieth time.

Mikhan looked at the prince. His deepset blue eyes were calm. They were always calm. "Not until we reach Marka, Highness," he replied. "We do not even know if your father was involved in it."

"Seems likely."

"Yes it does. There are no other armies large enough to leave behind such a mess." Nearer seventy than sixty, Mikhan had seen many battles and remained as alert and sharp as ever. He had fought under Staflan Vintner, his son Ulvic and, finally, his grandson Branad.

Verdin hoped the older man was not about to begin serving a fourth generation.

Retiring twelve years before, he had handed the army over to the capable control of Kelanus Butros. After Kelanus had been chased from Branad's army, replaced by a man Mikhan neither knew well nor trusted, he had voluntarily come out of retirement and been promoted to Marshal.

For two years, he was forced to kick his heels in Sandester, the capital city of his branch of the Vintner family. Only now did he have his chance to be useful.

"We might be riding into a trap," said the younger man.

Mikhan shook his head. "The scouts know their work," he replied, dropping the courtesy "highness". "The road is clear at least to the edge of the forest."

Verdin glanced around. "We don't know how many men Marcus Vintner may have left behind," he continued.

Mikhan shrugged. "Marcus Vintner is too honorable a man to ambush a caravan like this. Attempt to capture it perhaps, or even try to escort it to the city. Besides, your father could as easily have won the battle. If indeed, that battlefield is where His Majesty and the other Vintner ever met at all."

"But it seems likely that they did."

Mikhan sighed. The conversation had come around in a circle. "I agree that is what most likely has happened, if Marcus Vintner swung north to meet your father. Now, what would such a move by Marcus tell you?" Mikhan's eyes glittered.

Verdin paused to think. Despite the honorary rank of Lieutenant in his father's army, he was not a warrior, but he had studied tactics and strategy under Mikhan. A renowned captain, officers came from all over to learn from the marshal.

"Anything?" Mikhan prodded gently.

"It tells me his intelligence is good," replied Verdin.

Mikhan gave a pleased smile. "Excellent! Knowing your enemy and learning what he is up to are vitally important. As important as knowing the land on which you'll fight. But another question we must consider is this: how does Marcus come by his intelligence? This isn't the first time he has known exactly where to wait and for how long."

"Traitors?"

"Possible, but how do they communicate? How can a traitor know _exactly_ where any opposing army can be?"

"He may have a Gifted one in his ranks."

Mikhan nodded. "Now you _are_ thinking. Good man. Another thing to consider: why has Marcus Vintner begun to win important battles rather more often than before?"

"He might have read your books."

The old soldier gave a rare guffaw of laughter. "Marcus might have acquired tactical skill, but I suspect somebody has joined his army in a senior post and that somebody knows what he is about."

"Kelanus?"

Mikhan nodded. "Kelanus. It's never wise to put a man who knows the work out of work in time of war. No matter what he stood accused of. Better a secret execution than let a man like that go."

"Kelanus is a traitor?"

"You might view it that way. He needs to earn his living, like the rest of us."

"So Kelanus is how Marcus knows where we are all the time?" A confused frown furrowed Verdin's brow.

"Kelanus is no intelligence gatherer," countered Mikhan, "though he certainly knows how to use it. Young Verdin, there is something in Marcus Vintner's army that is missing from all the others. Perhaps it _is_ one of the Gifted. Or a sorcerer. Whatever, I'm sure we'll find out. When we reach Marka."

Verdin was grateful for the change of subject. "When will we see Marka?"

"Once we get through the forest."

"Is it truly a beautiful city?"

Mikhan, who had visited Marka in his youth, nodded. "The most beautiful city in the known world," he replied. Pleasant reminiscence flickered in his eyes. "I can think of nowhere else as rich, as varied and as impressive. I'll not tell you too much; you can find it all out for yourself. We'll be there soon enough."

"A scout." Verdin nodded to where an armed man, dressed in dull colors, emerged from the forest and reported to his senior officer. Done, he slipped away and was quickly out of sight, only movement betraying his presence for as long as people knew where to look for him. The man's commander crossed to Mikhan.

"Marshal sir, the scouts report a good place to stop half a mila ahead."

Mikhan glanced skywards and nodded. "We'll spend the night there," he replied. He turned to Verdin. "Do not forget to join the rest of the men at sword practice this evening. I noticed you missed last night."

Verdin grinned. "I'll be there," he promised.

He dropped behind the marshal and cloaked himself in thought. He desperately hoped his father was alive and well, convinced they had passed the most recent meeting place between his father and Cousin Marcus. He had no wish to be thrust to the claim young. He wanted to live a little first. He had long since decided that he could do without the Throne at all but, if his father's claim proved successful (as he was certain it would), he would meet his duty. An onerous burden, but one he could and would carry.

He had stared and stared at the family's genealogical charts, hoping against hope that Marcus or even Enthan Vintner would actually have the stronger claim. The last Emperor had disappeared in the chaos of Marka's collapse, so his legal status was questionable. He had never been crowned. Marcus Vintner claimed descent from this man's younger brother.

More worryingly, Hingast claimed to be a direct descendant of the last Emperor: if the Supreme Council discounted Hingast's claim, they should also ignore that of Marcus. The fact that the last man to sit on the Throne had never been crowned in his three-week reign, meant that the stronger claims lay with descendants from the previous generation.

From where his family's claim originated. There must be a way to wriggle out of it.

And if he did wriggle out of it, another problem reared up. Although his father had a younger brother, Verdin did not. If he rejected his birthright (assuming his father became Emperor), the Throne would pass to his Uncle Nazvasta. Then, if Verdin had a son with a somewhat more ambitious outlook, the Empire risked a fresh collapse even before a proper reunion. Verdin did not want the Throne because he had other ambitions, even if he saw no way yet to realize them.

He wanted to be instrumental in reuniting the Empire, to be the man who led the armies who reimposed Marka's will, the man who directed the diplomats. He could not do that as heir to the Throne and later – Siranva send much later! – its occupant. Should his father be recognized, Verdin would be forced to look at all his plans afresh. Unless his father's second wife produced a son; that would give him a more honorable escape.

He could confide in nobody. Everyone here stood solidly behind Verdin's father: to do otherwise was treason. Verdin looked about him, at the soldiers and their families who surrounded him. Did anyone harbor doubts about the validity of Branad Vintner's claim? What about Marshal Mikhan, who had spent more than half a century fighting for his family's claim? There was not a single person here he could trust as a confidant. It would be too dangerous – for the confidant as well as himself.

Bored by his thoughts, he rode forward to come alongside Mikhan again.

"Why is it so barren out here?" he asked. "Where are the farms and people?"

"Good question. We're in the Markan Metropa. There were farms here, and soldiers too, but many areas have suffered raids."

"That is something we must change," murmured Verdin, his blue eyes hardening. "Are these raiders anything to do with Hingast?"

"Him, or one of the other claimants, or just men struggling for their own survival. It's hard to say. Whatever their origin, if they harm others, they deserve to hang."

Verdin silently agreed. The sooner they restored order to these lands, the better. Only that needed an Emperor and his father had the best claim. Trapped, with no way out.

***

Dervra inverted reality to prevent sound escaping his tent. A lavish piece, intended to impress all who could see sorcery at work and deter those with Siranva's pathetic gift. His tent was equally lavish, second only to Hingast's own. Carpets and rugs from Eldova covered the ground; the dark furniture came from a long forgotten Prefecture named Senia, destroyed centuries before by the first Imperial Republic. He barely noticed any of these things, more than used to them. They had been his companions for months.

A small sound caught his attention.

The sylph slave, terrified eyes wide and earpoints laid back in her hair, poured a cup of alovak. Dervra took it without offering thanks. He had forgotten she was still inside the tent and listened to her panicky breathing for a moment. She belonged to Delwin, if he remembered correctly. These things were unimportant.

He nodded her towards the tent flap. Taking the hint as an order, she fled, most likely glad to escape. Sorcery frightened sylphs and they had an uncanny ability to sense its use. She probably did not even know what had frightened her. Typically sylph.

He had never worked out how they did it, despite testing several specimens to destruction. Perhaps they had some latent ability for the Gift from their human inheritance.

But it was irrelevant.

He thought of Hingast's hunts. The only sylphs exempted from his hunting were found in his camp. There were no male sylphs here: all bar two were infertiles and the exceptions were breeder females.

Dervra had invented the "sport" of sylph hunting to distract Hingast from destroying cities and killing thousands of humans. The demise of a handful of sylphs paled to insignificance compared to that. Their sacrifice was a humanitarian consideration, their killer a highly unstable young man. But Hingast had his uses yet.

Now the slave had gone, Dervra sat and sipped his alovak. Any second now...

He was no longer alone. A woman stood before him, wrapped head to foot in a brown robe. At her side stood a male sylph, hands clasped meekly before him, a leash leading from his collar to somewhere inside the woman's robe. The sylph was plainly dressed in linen shirt and woolen knee-length breeches.

"Good evening, Nicolfer."

The woman smiled. She often gave the impression she could not stand, but such pretense was pointless here. Her ankle tendons had been cut in an ancient confrontation with Grayar, but that injury had been healed long ago.

"Dervra," replied the woman, her voice only slightly muffled by the robe. As friends and allies, they met all too infrequently. "At last, I have news." Jet eyes glittered.

"Yes, at last."

"Both Vintners have arrived in Marka," continued Nicolfer. "There are some interesting tensions. Marcus's General hates Branad's General. Despite being defeated and captured, Branad has not renounced his claim to the Throne; at least, not yet. Both Supreme Council and Senate are bitterly divided because only two claimants were invited and not all of them. That includes your boy. Even better, many of those who believe that Marcus Vintner's claim is strongest do not feel happy that Marcus Vintner Senior is still alive. There are many factions to exploit."

Dervra sat back and steepled his fingers. Much of this he already knew, and he suspected Nicolfer knew that he had many sources of information. But there might be a good chance she'd hear something that his other spies missed.

Like himself, she had once been one of the Ten. They probably technically still were. Even if no longer uniquely practitioners of sorcery _and_ the Gift, but they had been the first. And still the most powerful.

"It is in our interest for the factions to continue," he said, finally. "The fool I'm with at the moment still believes that I support him fully and, moreover, that he is the most important of my servants. Worse, he believes that _I_ am _his_ servant." He sniffed. "Yes, Nicolfer, exploit the divisions you find. Feed the cracks of distrust and hatred."

Nicolfer smiled and tugged the leash gently. The boy's head came up, though his earpoints were laid back in his hair. His eyes were wide with barely suppressed panic; even the infertile Dervra had just dismissed showed less fear.

"Tangan is coming along nicely. He now knows how much Sandev and Grayar are responsible for making sylphs into what they are today. Now he knows why his kind dream so much of flying and why they do not fear falling."

Dervra leaned forward. "His hate grows? Looks frightened to me."

Tangan's gaze remained firmly on the rugs and he visibly trembled.

"He is frightened of _us_." Nicolfer's voice held scorn. "I train him to be independent again. For a higher purpose."

Twisting his head to look deep into the sylph's eyes, Dervra doubted it. The boy's gaze flinched away as he cringed. Sylphs should be angry, murderously angry, at the changes that made them what they were today, but there was no evidence of that in this creature. "I think you'll have to keep trying," he said.

Nicolfer nodded, then she and Tangan were gone.

Whatever she planned to use the sylph for was probably doomed to failure. And why had she named the creature Tangan? If the wrong ears heard that name, it would bring owner and owned a lot of trouble.

Dervra sat back and sighed. Sometimes he felt he juggled a million and one different balls, trying to keep all of them in the air at once. There were things he must try to influence, but this time he needed a little luck. This was a thing he had always believed one made oneself, but he hoped for something more this time. If Nicolfer succeeded in exploiting the tensions already showing between the two Vintners...

He smiled.

***

Verdin tried not to stare as they approached the guard.

Ever since it came into sight, Verdin had spent most of his time gawping in awe at the giant pyramid, with its glowing ruby crown. Even Mikhan, who had visited Marka in his youth, could not hide his wonder at so large an object. The entire pyramid seemed to glow with frightening intensity in the late afternoon sunshine. The city, itself a source of admiration and open mouths, looked primitive in comparison. Everybody stared at the pyramid, unable to believe that men could build such things.

Verdin's attention returned to the guards, neither of whom he recognized. The Vintner Arms were everywhere, but set on a darker blue background than that used by his branch of the family. These must be Marcus Vintner's men. His mouth tightened as he realized there were no banners on a pale blue ground.

He idly noted the army had camped on the forested side of the city, well away from pastureland and arable crops. Patches of bare ground throughout the forest showed it too was a crop; Marka had earned its renown across the continent for its wooden furniture and other wood articles.

"I am Verdin Branad Vintner, son of Branad Ulvic Vintner." He announced himself with a touch of formality.

The men barely acknowledged him. They showed no surprise to see him or the caravan. As if they were expected.

"Branad's tent is twelve spanas that way," said one. "Room for your caravan maybe, but probably not your tents."

Mikhan's eyes narrowed at the familiar use of Branad Vintner's name, but he said nothing.

That his father's tent stood at all proved he at least still lived. Verdin thanked the guards and waited for Mikhan to pass the orders back. He rode slowly in the indicated direction and tried to ignore the large number of soldiers staring at him and his entourage. Neither hostile nor friendly.

Every standard Verdin saw was the gold dragon's head on a dark blue field, so he must have entered the sprawling camp by Marcus's end. He glanced at the city walls and marveled at their size. The camp sat within easy catapult range of the city.

"Looks as though neither claimant was welcomed with open arms," he remarked.

Mikhan showed his teeth. "The Council and Senate are probably still arguing over which claim to recognize," he replied. "Whoever invited your father and his cousin to Marka did so in the knowledge there was no easy decision."

"But my father lives." He was cheered by the news.

"Look over there." Mikhan pointed to two male sylphs. Neither looked particularly sylphic, dressed only in peculiar short breeches and painted green, gray and brown, one with vivid black slashes across his chest. "What do you suppose those are for?" The Marshal looked as though the mystery of Marcus's good battlefield intelligence had been solved.

"Sylphs?" Verdin blinked. "I wonder what the Supreme Council and Senate have to say about Marcus Vintner using sylphs in his army?"

"That probably depends what he uses them for."

Soldiers – at least Verdin recognized these men – ran downhill to meet the caravan and direct it to a clear place beside Branad's tent. The man himself came to meet them.

"Father."

Verdin and Branad embraced. Verdin's mother, sister-mother and his sisters came out of the armored carriage and took their turn to hug Branad, pleased to see him alive. There were a few relieved tears.

"We passed a battlefield on the Candin Plain," said Verdin.

A shadow passed across Branad's face. "We didn't win."

Marshal Mikhan slipped from his horse. "What were the terms?" he demanded.

"They captured me." Branad sounded close to tears and his son stared at him in consternation. "I agreed to follow Marcus until we reached Marka."

"And beyond, else you'd be fighting again." Mikhan looked about him.

"Come inside." Branad turned and walked towards his tent.

"We saw some sylphs covered in paint," said Verdin, walking beside his father. "We assume they are Marcus Vintner's? Why has he broken the precepts? What does he use them for? Oh."

Branad sighed. "Verdin, this is Belaika- _y_ -Marcus. He belongs to Cousin Marcus."

The named sylph, painted in field colors and also with the vivid black slashes, inclined his head, but his earpoints were slanted forward. His silvery gray eyes held irritation.

Mikhan stared at the sylph, but his eyes also held understanding.

Branad broke the short silence. "Cousin Marcus uses them as scouts. Apparently, it is something the sylphs offered to do. They are excellent and I can vouch for that."

Much of Belaika's irritation faded.

Mikhan looked at the sylph with increased respect. "Yes, I can see how they're ideally suited for scouting. This paint will hide them in most backgrounds, and their ability to stay perfectly still in almost any position helps disguise them. Their senses are superior and I also believe their hearing range is greater." He had been speaking to himself; now he raised his voice a little. "How do you communicate with each other in the field, Belaika- _y_ -Marcus?"

"We whistle, _donenya_ ," replied Belaika. "Humans cannot hear us."

"Yes." A small smile turned the Marshal's lips. "Of course." His voice dropped to a murmur. "A net of sylphs whistling can quickly cover a large area and pass on any intelligence. Impressive."

Hearing every word, Belaika said nothing.

"Care to teach me these whistles?" asked Mikhan.

"Difficult." Belaika managed a small smile. "You cannot hear them."

Unimpressed, Mikhan sniffed. "That is an evasion."

Refusing to be drawn, Belaika shrugged.

Branad changed the subject. "I'm glad everybody is here. Tonight, Cousin Marcus will dine with me. Verdin, shall we walk? There is something I must tell you."

Outside, away from the possible hearing range even of sylphs, Branad and Verdin watched as the carriages were prepared for the night. Eventually, Branad spoke.

"I'm afraid we're still waiting for rooms in the city, so you will have to stay in that caravan a little longer."

Verdin blinked; not quite the conversation he expected. "A few days more can do no harm," he replied. "We cannot all cram into your campaign tent."

"And no room for me in the caravan." Branad smiled. "But not for long."

There was a longer pause before Branad took a long breath.

Verdin tensed.

"You are aware that Marcus defeated me?"

Verdin's heart began to pound. "Yes."

"Not just a battle where his forces defeated mine, but a battle which saw me captured." Bitterness thickened the older man's voice. "If not for his mercy, he could execute me for treason. Victor's spoils, if you like. As could I, were the positions reversed."

Verdin said nothing.

"For days I have faced a difficult choice. The only honorable decision is the one I must make."

"Which is?"

Branad's eyes glistened and again he seemed on the brink of tears. "Our people in Sandester will be disappointed, our soldiers will be disappointed, and our supporters in the Supreme Council and Senate will be disappointed." He sighed and dropped into formal language. "Tonight, I will inform Marcus Marcus Vintner that Branad Ulvic Vintner renounces his claim and that of his descendants to the vacant Throne of Marka. That renunciation will be repeated in the Senate tomorrow morning. Furthermore, I will announce that our support is transferred to Marcus Vintner in the pursuit of his claim. I will join our Prefectures to his and our armies will merge." His chest heaved with suppressed emotion. "I apologize for squandering your birthright."

Verdin turned to his father. "I have no birthright for you to squander," he said, quickly. "We are only claimants to a Throne that has only just been recognized in Marka. I respect your decision. And agree with it."

Branad looked as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Verdin looked away again. Now was not the time to share his relief at his father's decision. "How do you think Cousin Marcus will fare?"

"Marcus Vintner will make an excellent Emperor." Branad shook his head. "A superb Emperor."

"And he will have work for both of us when he gets his throne." Verdin smiled. "What will Uncle Nazvasta think?"

"I must write him a letter." Branad grimaced. "It's not what he might think. It's what he might do that should worry us!"

The two generations of Vintners laughed together.

***

Belaika was surprised Branad's tent held the large round table borrowed from Marcus. Ten places were laid out, the sylph helping the three serving girls place cutlery. The burner had been pushed to one side and its chimney trunked to the usual exit at the tent's peak.

Branad's sleeping quarters had been merged with the main tent, the man's bedding removed for the meal. And an extension had been put at the back of the tent, where cooks already prepared the food.

Belaika had run errands all afternoon, fetching this and carrying that. He was kept so busy that he barely had time to wash and change into formal clothes. He now wore a spotless white shirt and gray knee-length breeches, the usual uniform of off-duty scouts.

He had no other clothes except scouting breeches, which would most definitely not be welcome this evening. He kept on his scouting collar, but left the sash with its decorations in his small clothes chest. It would get in the way when serving, and – worse – some might think he was showing off.

After helping one of the girls roll back a tent wall that had fallen against one side of the table, he retreated to the back of the tent, ready with the wine. A menial task nobody else wanted, but the sylph knew it would let him keep a discreet eye on everything happening at the table. And gave him a reason to watch everyone.

Branad entered with both wives, son Verdin and two of his older daughters. The sylph assumed the other girls were too young to enjoy a formal dinner. Verdin gave the sylph a strange look before recognition finally dawned.

"So you really _are_ a sylph," said the young Vintner, grinning. "Normal blue skin after all."

"Part of my new disguise, _donenya_ ," replied the scout.

His owner and Kelanus arrived together, followed directly by Mikhan and Ranallic. Belaika watched as formal introductions were made to Branad's senior wife, Kana Santon.

The sylph had expected her to be no more than coolly polite to Marcus, but she all but ignored Kelanus. Belaika wondered if she knew that a sneer of distaste turned her mouth.

That she treated Ranallic with the same disdain surprised him. It wasn't a dislike of soldiers, for her greeting to Mikhan was warm and affectionate. Perhaps she didn't like outlanders.

Belaika stared in surprise when he realized Jenn had failed to wrangle her way to the meal tonight. She always resented separation from Marcus and he guessed she would be sulking in Marcus's tent right now.

As he went around the table, offering a fruit wine Branad had bought somewhere in Marka, tensions between the guests were clear.

Kelanus seemed friendly enough toward Verdin and Mikhan, wary of Branad's wives and daughters, a little distant toward Branad and quietly hostile toward Ranallic.

Something was going on there and he had heard only hints. For whatever reason, Kelanus blamed Ranallic for losing Branad's command.

Belaika had never before seen the emotion so obvious in a human, but he knew Kelanus hated Ranallic. Perhaps only the surroundings prevented him from attacking the southlander.

"You going to stand there all night boy, or are you waiting for me to die of thirst?"

The sylph jumped. That was aimed at him, he realized. Branad's other wife – Elsin, he thought it was – beckoned to him. Although the words sounded angry, she smiled as she said them.

"Apologies, _donanya_." Belaika noticed that Ranallic's gaze fixed on either Elsin or himself as he refilled her goblet.

Verdin caught the sylph's sleeve as he passed.

"More wine?"

"Thank you, no. Why are you so happy to serve my father? I understand you weren't always so pleased about it. Yet you asked to continue."

"I did, _donenya_."

"Why?"

Belaika bobbed his head. "It saves me from other duties I do not like." As he straightened, he became aware of Ranallic's gaze again. The sylph's eyes narrowed. Was he being stared at? Or had Ranallic realized that he was spying for Marcus?

Aware Belaika would say no more, Verdin turned to Kelanus. The sylph stood back and eavesdropped.

"Did you have a pleasant journey?" Kelanus's bass rumble was muted. Even Belaika strained to overhear.

Verdin nodded. "Though my sisters were worried for my father's safety when we passed the battlefield."

"On Candin Plain." Kelanus nodded. "We intended to capture your father from the outset. Marcus has a use for him."

Belaika detected a hint of bitterness in the General's tone. He leaned forward as Verdin touched Kelanus's sleeve.

"Please don't hate my father," he begged. "He always held you in high regard and felt he had little choice after what you were accused of."

Belaika's ears strained.

Kelanus's eyes narrowed as he glanced across the table at Ranallic. "It's not your father I hate."

Belaika moved around the table with the wine and became aware of Ranallic's gaze on him yet again. What was the man's problem?

Conversation ceased while the main – and last – course was served.

Belaika watched the humans as they cut their meat. Most moved the food around the plate for ease, while others turned the plate. He noted the one exception was Ranallic, who swapped his knife from one hand to the other.

The sylph was not the only one to notice.

"Can you do that with other tools?" Marcus asked the southerner.

Ranallic smiled. "Most of them," he replied. "Certainly with swords and other weapons."

"A useful skill," said Marcus.

Ranallic smiled. "Very."

The silence lasted longer this time, so Belaika happily helped the human girls clear away the dishes.

Once they served alovak, the girls left Belaika alone. As with the wine, the alovak was part of his duty. He crouched on his heels at a polite distance, where anyone who wanted more could catch his attention. The brewing can remained at his side. He waited patiently. Everybody would soon learn why Branad had called them together this evening. He glanced at Verdin, certain the young man already knew that reason.

Branad Vintner pulled himself to his feet and banged the side of his cup with a knife. As all conversation quietened, he smiled around at everyone present.

"I hope," he began, "that we all enjoyed the feast."

A murmur of assent met his words, although Marcus and Kelanus exchanged a look. Belaika sat on his heels behind Branad's wives and daughters, thankful he could not see Ranallic from here. Why did the man keep staring at him? He placed himself to see Branad, his owner, Kelanus and Verdin.

Branad continued. "I wish to tell you first what I will tell the Senate tomorrow morning. As you are all aware, little more than a week has passed since Cousin Marcus and myself met at Candin Plain. Again, as you all know, Cousin Marcus not only carried the day to complete victory, but also succeeded in capturing me. For which, I offer my sincere congratulation." He bowed his head toward Marcus, who returned the gesture. His expression, however, remained neutral.

Branad took a breath. "Since reaching Marka, we have discovered that the Supreme Council and Senate of Marka are split into factions concerning who should take the Throne. In my view, this takes all legitimate claims and makes a mockery of them. The scale of legitimacy is worthless, as we have seen in the machinations of the Senate over the past few days. That some are prepared to support men such as Hingast renders both Cousin Marcus and myself speechless."

Marcus and Kelanus exchanged another look. Branad continued.

"It is my view that decency should reign in Marka and that a decent man should take the Throne to reunite the Empire against men like Hingast. Both the armies here should unite under one command structure as a first step to resist any move to install Hingast, or some other unsuitable claimant, on the Throne. I also believe that three of the factions in the Senate can and should be united. The three factions I mention are those who support myself, Marcus Vintner and Marcus Vintner Senior. The method of uniting the last two factions is down to you, Sir." Branad and Marcus again exchanged nods.

Belaika could not prevent a puzzled frown wrinkling his brow. What was going on here? His earpoints twitched erect and slanted forward in turn.

Branad's mouth twisted in a vague smile. "I have always fought in the belief that my claim to the Markan Throne was the strongest of all those who demanded it and even now, I restate this remains my belief. However, I am defeated in battle and there are many who say that Siranva has spoken, that He intervened in this dispute."

Aware that history was being made before his startled eyes, Belaika stood upright. Shock painted Ranallic's face as he stared at his commander. He must realize what was coming. Marcus had his hands clasped on the table before him, the way he did when trying to suppress sudden elation.

Branad's voice firmed. "This is why I recommend all my supporters transfer their allegiance to Marcus Marcus Vintner. This is why I renounce – for both myself and my descendants – all claim to the Throne of Marka. I renounce my claim in favor of Marcus Vintner and his descendants in perpetuity." Branad turned to face Marcus, dropped to one knee, and bowed. "Your Majesty."

Everybody in the tent followed suit. Belaika forgot to kneel – his master had never demanded it from him at other times – so only he saw Verdin's pleased smile. Why would _Verdin_ be pleased?

The sylph's gaze slid to Ranallic, who looked anything but pleased.

"Rise, everybody please rise." Marcus Vintner could not hide his pleasure as he insisted everyone regain their feet. He cleared his throat and began to give his thanks to Branad. He had always been able to make a speech off the top of his head and he used the skill now. Belaika recovered his composure first and let the words wash over him as he wandered around the table, offering alovak.

Branad's wives were astounded. The younger girls looked unconcerned; perhaps because they were not in line for the Throne, so were not directly affected by their father's announcement.

Marshal Mikhan shook his head in disbelief.

Now the shock had worn off, Ranallic and Kelanus exchanged mutual glances of hatred.

"So," said Marcus, wrapping up his short speech, "let us now work together to rebuild the birthright of us all: a united and strong Marka."

Polite applause met his words.

***
**Chapter 6**

Murder

Belaika did not want to wake from his dream. Eleka had birthed a son. A complete family brought its own happiness. Eleka nodded assent to something and he strained to fall deeper into his dream.

Part of him remained alert, aware of something... nasty... happening outside the tent. A gurgling exhalation followed by a grunt and soft thud.

He held his beautiful baby son, the infant's eyes still shut and his earpoints tucked away, normal for sylph newborns. He smiled again at his wife and told her how much he loved her. He smiled at his daughters, crowding around for their turn with the new arrival.

Grass cooled his feet and a river flowed placidly past, its waters calm and clear. Nearby trees offered shade for when the sun strengthened.

Shivering as a draft passed over him, he snuggled deeper into his blanket. A whispered voice soothed, but he sensed something wrong. Kelanus in Branad's tent? He screwed his eyes more tightly shut, trying to stay in his dream, but his inner voice warned of danger.

"I must go," he told Eleka.

"Go where?" Puzzlement and hurt flickered in her eyes. " _Enya_ says you have no duties for seven days."

"No idea." Belaika's earpoints slanting ahead in confusion. What tent? He and his family were at the riverside! "But I must go."

The sylph resisted a frustrated shout as he fell from his dream to the real world. Normality returned and he sensed something terribly, terribly wrong. He rubbed his arms and wondered what bothered him. He blinked in the near darkness and drew breath sharply.

"Kelanus- _ya_ , what are you doing here?" He had obviously not dreamed that. He saw Kelanus's smile.

"Shush. Go back to sleep. Sounded like you were enjoying the place you left rather more than here."

"Yes," came the sylph's candid reply.

Belaika blinked again as Kelanus turned and picked his way towards the exit, without needing a light, as if he knew where everything was. He shook his head and wondered what caused his niggling fear. He rubbed his arms again.

Something about Kelanus looked wrong, and not knowing what bothered him. A feeling of something not quite right. And how did the General know his way around Branad's tent in darkness? As far as Belaika could tell, Kelanus had only been in this tent once before, and they had rearranged everything since then.

At the flap, Kelanus turned to face the sylph and moonlight played over his face. "Go back to sleep." He left the tent.

Wide-awake and wide-eyed, Belaika knew he had no chance of sleep now. Straining his ears, he heard nothing. He usually woke a few times during the night and often heard the guard outside stamp a foot or ease a joint, which caused leather armor to creak. And he always heard Branad's strong, even breathing. Always.

Now, nothing. Everything felt wrong.

He pushed his blanket aside and stood, heart pounding. He uncovered a light crystal and its harsh light spilled free to throw shadows on the tent walls. Afraid to disturb the man he served, yet needing to see him, Belaika pushed through the tapestries that screened off Branad's sleeping quarters. He paused.

"Branad- _ya_?"

Silence. Not even breathing.

Belaika glanced over his shoulder and nervousness grew. Should he call the guard? He looked at the shape under the blankets.

"Branad- _ya_?" he repeated.

Insides knotted, he steeled himself and held the lantern high. His eyes widened.

"Guard!" he called, the word coming out as a squeak. He cleared his throat and strengthened his voice, unused to calling. "Guard!"

Belaika stepped into the sleeping compartment.

He looked directly at Branad now, and terror mingled with sympathy. The former claimant lay on his bed with a pillow covering his face. Any struggle must have been short and almost silent, for it had not woken the sylph. He leaned forward and yelled for the guard, aware Branad would never again hear him. He gently touched the silent human on the bed. Warm but not breathing.

He pulled the pillow free and saw filmed-over eyes. Fingers felt for and failed to find a pulse in Branad's neck.

"Touch nothing!"

Belaika almost launched skyward, but recovered his composure enough to face Ranallic. Almost anybody in range would have heard his yells.

Ranallic carried a lantern of his own and strode toward the sylph, slanted eyes glittering in the reflected light.

"He... He is dead."

Ranallic craned his neck to peer at Branad. "What have you done, boy? The guard outside's had his throat cut."

"Nothing!" protested Belaika. "Something woke me. Someone leaving the tent, so I came to see." He gestured helplessly at the corpse. "I only took the pillow away from his face, in case he was still breathing, but there is no heartbeat."

He looked around as Verdin entered the tent. His yells must have woken everybody and the wagon Branad's family slept in was parked alongside.

"Father!"

Verdin threw himself forward, but Ranallic caught his arm. "Touch nothing. I smell treachery."

"Aye, treachery, but from whom?" Marshal Mikhan almost stood on Verdin's heels. "General Ranallic, I've woken several trustworthy men who'll guard the tent. Marcus Vintner is also awake. Is your mother awake, Verdin?"

"Not yet," replied Branad's son.

A sneer turned Ranallic's mouth. "We don't need to look far for the murderer," he said. "Let's ask Marcus's commander, eh?"

"What's happening here?" Marcus came into the tent.

Belaika did something he had never done before in his life. Seeing his owner, he immediately crossed over to grasp his hand. "We must speak," he whispered quickly, in the sylph tongue.

Ranallic, Verdin and Mikhan turned simultaneously.

"Murder," replied Ranallic. "We think your sylph saw something."

"Is this true, Belaika?"

Miserable, the sylph looked up and nodded. He tugged gently on his master's hand. " _Le alut salut_ ," he repeated.

"What did you see, Belaika?" asked Marcus, quietly.

"Someone." The sylph used his facial expression to plead for release, earpoints wilted. He had no wish to speak in front of the others. "I woke and he told me to be quiet before he left the tent."

"How long ago?" Mikhan kept his tone gentle. "When did this happen?"

"Minutes." Belaika's grip tightened.

"Who was here?" demanded Verdin. "Tell me!" The young man looked as if he might step forward to shake an answer from the scout.

Help came from Ranallic. "That boy's about to go into shock," he said. "This is a matter for the City Guard to investigate. We can hardly hide this... killing."

"Killing? Murder!" Verdin's eyes flashed.

"We cannot call the Guard until the gates open at sunrise," remarked Mikhan. "I intend to wait here."

"And I." Verdin looked again at his father's corpse.

Marcus shook his head. "We must calm the camp; the people will know soon enough what's happened. Doubtless, they'll try to blame me or one of my men. The last thing we need is a bloodbath outside Marka's gates." Though his voice sounded calm, wild emotion shone in his eyes.

Ranallic nodded. "I'll set the men work before breakfast."

Turning, Marcus laid a hand on Verdin's shoulder. "I am sorry."

The younger man looked close to tears. "What do you have to gain from this murder?" he asked.

"You believe _I_ am responsible for this?" Marcus forced his anger down. "Young man, you have my sympathy, but do not presume too far without proof."

Mikhan stepped between them, hands raised as if to cool tempers. "You know there are plenty who'll want to believe you _are_ responsible."

"Unless we find the murderer quickly," added Ranallic. He gave Belaika a meaningful glance.

"You come with me," Marcus commanded his sylph. "You can spend the rest of the night in my tent." He turned to the other men. "You're right; he's going into shock. I'll look after him."

The scout nodded his thanks and left the tent with Marcus. They paused before Branad's guard. As Ranallic had said, the man's throat was cut and his lifeless eyes stared into the night sky.

"I'm afraid we must leave you here, too," apologized Marcus.

Belaika stared at his master in consternation. Why did he speak to a corpse? They crossed the short distance to Marcus's tent in silence.

"You notice anything?" Marcus asked his own guard, who wore the purple of a Guard Officer.

The man looked unruffled. "Only heard your sylph yelling and then Ranallic come running with his orders," he replied.

Marcus nodded. "Orders to wake me."

"And Verdin and Mikhan, Sir. Though they were already awake."

"You saw nobody enter or leave Branad's tent?"

"How? Can't see the other tent entrance from here, Sir."

Belaika nodded agreement as Marcus glanced across to Branad's tent. The guard had spoken true: they could see the guy ropes – at least Belaika could – but the entrance was hidden. Thanks to the lie of the ground, the two tents were angled slightly away from each other. The murderer had planned and executed his attack well.

In the tent, Marcus pulled the cover from a light crystal and sat in one of his chairs, beckoning Belaika closer. Jenn, hair tousled, poked her head into the main tent, face expressionless, though her eyes brimmed with questions. She remained silent.

"Branad is dead," Marcus told her, in reply to one of the unspoken questions. "And I don't want alovak," answering another.

The infertile sylph shrugged and sat cross-legged on the ground, apparently unperturbed by the news.

Marcus turned back to Belaika. "You have something to say."

Belaika nodded vigorously, after a quick glance at Jenn. "You will not like this, _enya_ ," he said. "The man who woke and spoke to me looked like Kelanus- _ya_."

"What?" Marcus dragged his voice down. Tent walls were not soundproof; tapestries only muted so much. "You're telling me that Kelanus murdered Branad?"

"I said looked like, not was."

"What do you mean?"

Belaika glanced at Jenn before dragging his gaze back to his master. "The man _looked_ like Kelanus, but was not him."

"How do you know?"

The sylph shrugged and shook his head, earpoints slightly wilted. "Just know."

Marcus stared at his scout. "That won't be enough for the City Guard. They won't be as gentle."

Outside, the noise of a scuffle reached their ears and they heard Kelanus's voice.

"Let me through, damn you."

Jenn crept to Belaika and he hugged her, glad for some sylph contact. There was no hint of banter.

Marcus raised his voice. "Guard! Let him pass."

Kelanus entered the tent. "What's going on?" he demanded. "About Branad? Why are you looking at me like that, Belaika?"

"Branad is dead," replied Marcus. "Murdered in his tent."

Kelanus swung to Belaika. "And you saw the killer?"

The sylph reluctantly nodded his head. He tried to get closer to Jenn.

"And?" The General's bass voice rumbled.

"He looked like you," whispered the scout.

"I was asleep in my tent." Kelanus swung to Marcus. "Until Balnus warned me something was going on."

"Can you vouch that Balnus woke you? Can he vouch that you were asleep?" Eager hope filled Marcus's voice. "Siranva knows what'll happen when word gets round, despite Ranallic trying to keep things calm."

"It was not you," continued Belaika, unprompted. "But someone who looked very like you."

"We'll need more than that," retorted Kelanus. "Better than that."

Marcus nodded. "Best for you to stay here until daybreak. Your safety is at risk."

"As is yours." Kelanus's pale blue eyes fixed on his employer. "If I'm blamed for this, many will believe they know who gave the order. Even in Marka, they'll believe that, despite Branad's renunciation of his claim."

"Branad's supporters will think that I put him up to renouncing it, which I suppose holds an element of truth, and that I've had him murdered to keep him quiet." He sighed and shook his head. "Too transparent."

"Why did the killer leave me alive?"

Belaika's spoke in little more than a whisper, but the two humans and Jenn stared at him for a long moment. Jenn gripped the scout's hand, whether to give reassurance or take it, he did not know. His question remained unanswered.

Kelanus sighed. "Better for me to take the blame, just as before. I'd best leave now."

"If you try that," Marshal Mikhan interrupted, from the entrance, "I doubt if you'll make it out of the camp alive. They're ready to lynch you."

Marcus and Kelanus looked around, only relaxing when they realized that Mikhan had left his sword outside and that six of Marcus's Guard Officers surrounded him, their cloaks all but hiding the visitor. The aging marshal continued.

"Personally, I do not believe that Marcus has anything to do with the murder, but I'm not so sure about you, General Kelanus. Ranva knows you have motive enough."

Kelanus's eyes narrowed. "If Ranallic lay dead, you'd be right," he said.

"Verdin is heartbroken. You told him last night that you didn't hate his father."

"No more do I. Did."

Mikhan sniffed. "I must go and try to prevent a mutiny."

"What mutiny?" Marcus stared.

"I must convince the men that you had nothing to do with this, and tell them that Branad rejected his claim before the Senate. Which of course means you have nothing to gain but everything to lose should you be responsible for the murder. Also, that the murder of one of their comrades, the guard on Branad's tent, was none of your doing. That upset them more than Branad's death. As for Kana and Elsin: well, however they react is your lookout."

Mikhan gave a mirthless grin and, still surrounded by the Guard, left the tent.

Marcus shook his head and sighed. "Just when everything seemed to be going so well."

***

Unwilling to return to a wagon now full of weeping widows and fatherless girls, Verdin watched Mikhan stride out of Marcus Vintner's tent and downhill. Ranallic placed a reassuring hand on the prince's shoulder.

"Kelanus has gone to see Marcus," said Verdin.

Ranallic nodded. "I know. Trying to convince Marcus he had nothing to do with it. Even now he'll twist the truth beyond recognition. As he always has."

"Marcus had nothing to do with it?"

Ranallic grimaced. "Let us wait and see what the City Guard discover," he replied. He gave Verdin a sideways look and smiled.

***

The guard poked his head into Marcus's tent just after daybreak.

"Something's going on at Branad's."

Marcus stopped tickling Jenn's earpoints and ignored her muffled protest. Belaika gave the infertile a disgusted glance before heeling his owner. Kelanus followed and Jenn bounded to her feet to bring up the rear.

An angry crowd of soldiers had gathered downhill, and faced an equally large crowd of Marcus's men, who refused to let the others pass. Thankfully, all were unarmed. A shout went up as Marcus left his tent and Branad's soldiers – presumably now Verdin's soldiers – surged forward, and almost broke the line defending the surviving claimant.

Marcus shook his head. Since Branad had renounced his claim, they were supposed to be his soldiers.

"There he is!"

"Murderer!"

"They should all be hanged!"

On horseback, Verdin pushed his way through Marcus's men and towards his own. Marcus hurried to join them, wanting to hear what Branad's son had to say. He waited a little distance away, arms folded.

Verdin waited for silence, although most of the eyes turning towards Marcus held hate.

"Marcus is not responsible for the death of my father," began Verdin.

More shouting interrupted him and he waited again for silence.

"That's an improvement on last night's view," muttered Marcus, heard only by Belaika and Jenn.

"Marcus is not responsible for the death of my father," repeated Verdin. "Night before last, as you are all fully aware, my father shared bread and salt with Marcus Vintner. At that meal, witnessed by myself, Marshal Mikhan, Generals Ranallic and Kelanus, not to mention the rest of my family, Branad Vintner renounced his claim to the Throne of Mark for both himself and his descendants."

"No, no!"

Marcus Vintner's men growled back at the denial rising from hundreds of throats.

Again, Verdin waited until quiet enough for him to continue. "He renounced his claim in favor of Marcus Vintner, who is now your commander. Furthermore, my father renounced his claim before the Senate of Marka."

Stunned silence met his words.

"Anybody wish to challenge my honesty? Or the facts? If you don't believe me, then go and ask a Senator." Verdin looked about him. "Do you doubt me, Silchec? Or perhaps you, Mentus? No? Good. Then listen, all of you. Yes, my father was murdered; yes, his guard was murdered. We do not know, though we suspect, who is responsible for the murders. But it is not Marcus Vintner. What can he gain by my father's death now?"

"What do we do when we find out who it really was?" demanded one of the men.

"You'll do nothing," interrupted a rough voice, from behind. "Unless you want to feel good Markan rope caressing your throat. The search for Branad's murderer falls under my jurisdiction and will be conducted under Markan Law."

Heads turned.

"Who are you?" someone demanded.

"Crallin Eldin, Captain of the City Guard." He smiled, though it did not touch his dark blue eyes. "And I'm in charge of this investigation. Whoever commands these men, dismiss them now."

Verdin nodded. "Go now and no more will be said."

Slowly, reluctantly, the men dispersed. Marcus inspected Captain Crallin and liked what he saw, though he had a feeling it would not be easy to get on with Crallin. Two City Guardsmen stood beside him and he watched the men leave before he joined Marcus.

"Sir." He nodded, but did not salute. "With your permission, I would like to begin immediately. May I see where Branad Vintner was murdered?"

Followed by his men, Captain Crallin made a close inspection of the tent and of Branad's corpse. When he finished, Crallin let soldiers remove the body. He then stood in the same spot as Marcus's tent guard and satisfied himself that the man could have seen neither assailant nor the other guard. He paced the distance from Kelanus's tent to Branad's pitch and questioned the hapless guard all over again. He finally turned to Belaika.

"You say you saw General Kelanus in the tent?"

Belaika shook his head. "A man who looked like Kelanus- _ya_ ," he replied. "But not him."

Crallin pointed to Kelanus. "Is that the man you saw in the tent?"

"No."

"But it looked like him?"

"Yes."

Crallin stroked his chin. "How are you certain it was not him?"

Belaika shrugged.

"So it might have been him?"

"It was not him."

Crallin sighed. "Look, this is a very serious matter. No place for misguided ideas about loyalty and keeping things quiet. This is a civilized city and I want it to stay that way. Best for everybody, including sylphs."

"It was not him," insisted the scout.

"I don't believe you."

Belaika shrugged again.

Crallin turned to Marcus. "I have no alternative but to arrange an inquiry, prior to making an arrest and initiating trial proceedings. For his own safety, I recommend that you allow me to take General Kelanus into custody. He will be safe there. For now."

Marcus glanced at Kelanus, who nodded his head. "Very well, Captain," he finally replied.

Ranallic did not smile, but his dark eyes conveyed contentment.

"The inquiry will begin soon," continued Crallin. "My men will contact those we need to attend. Expect it to begin tomorrow."

"Does that give you enough time to collect evidence, Captain?" asked Marcus, only just keeping sarcasm from his voice.

The Captain ignored the question. "Good day to you, Sir." Crallin's dark blue eyes remained cold as he touched the rim of his helmet. "I will speak with you soon."

As Kelanus was led away, a cheer went up from Branad's soldiers, together with shouts of "Murderer!"

Marcus turned to Ranallic and Verdin. "We must talk."

***

Sandev turned through three full circles in Branad's tent and sniffed at the air. She moved silently, not daring to make a sound in case the guards surrounding the tent overheard. Her presence would terrify them; none had seen her pass thanks to Siranva's Gift. She had simply projected herself here. Her sylph remained in the villa, Caya as frightened of her owner's power now as ever.

She sniffed at the air again and reached out a hand, fingertips aquiver. Faint and growing fainter as time passed, but still detectable. Whoever had used either the Gift or sorcery had used plenty of it and for quite some time. It hung in the air.

She sighed. She had been unable to get close to any of the senior people here so couldn't tell if any boasted the Gift, or if they had learned sorcery. Most likely sorcery, as murder had been committed here – she assumed by the same person.

Had Marlen projected himself from the city? Perhaps Dervra and Nicolfer were the perpetrators. But if Dervra had arranged this, she expected something a lot more subtle. And he controlled Marlen's actions. The important ones anyway. This murder had been clumsy, as if arranged in a hurry. Not Dervra or one his minions, then.

Sandev shuddered. Dervra and Nicolfer, two former members of the Ten, would like nothing more than to see Marka in ashes and all hope of reuniting the empire ended. They would love to see an end to civilization, no matter how primitive, on this continent. And beyond. Again, she debated with herself about involving Grayar. He had vowed never to return to Marka, but she missed him still. More, she needed him. She pushed Grayar to the back of her mind; he would not come.

So, if not Dervra or Nicolfer, and not Marlen, then she had _another_ rogue sorcerer to worry about.

She turned back to the tent. _Who are you?_ she wondered. _Where are you hiding?_

***

Belaika mounted the steps to the platform, legs leaden. Since Captain Crallin had begun his investigation of Branad's murder, none of the witnesses had been left alone for a moment. The sylph had spent most of the past day a "guest" in Marka's guardhouse. Not precisely a prisoner, but not free to leave either. A Guardsman shadowed him at all times, which he resented.

He had been isolated from everyone else involved in the case, unable even to hold a private conversation with his owner. And he had no chance of talking with Kelanus, locked up somewhere in the city.

He could hardly believe that Branad had been dead only a day. The City Guard had investigated quickly and thoroughly, conducting several searching interviews: Belaika had suffered three of these. So irritating having to repeat himself several times in the same interview, while the Guardsman scratched away with his pencil, asking him to repeat the same line several times over. They should teach these men to trap words on paper at speaking speed.

Those with anything to say at the court of inquiry were summonsed that afternoon and had been separated ever since. Now, Belaika prepared to answer questions. His nerves were already frayed and made worse as he realized he faced a full courtroom.

Having climbed steps, he had assumed the platform was just that, but rows of benches stretched up and away, full of people. They had pushed him into an arena and he very much wanted to be elsewhere. This felt worse than a battle!

The chairman of the inquiry stared at the sylph with expressionless blue eyes, seeming not to care what the outcome might be. Not wanting to meet the stare too long, Belaika's gaze flickered around the room. There were no familiar faces here. One woman, whose sparkling speedwell eyes never looked away, made him feel uncomfortable, though he had no idea why.

She looked normal enough, and he felt drawn to her. To judge from those sitting around her, she was tall for a human woman. But that would not cause unease. Rubbing his arms, he wondered why she had any interest in this matter. Perhaps no more than curiosity, like most people here.

He saw Branad's widows – Kana and Elsin – and tore his gaze away.

"You are Belaika- _y_ -Marcus?" The chairman of the inquiry finally caught the sylph's attention.

Belaika nodded.

"You must reply verbally." The chairman's voice held a hint of rebuke. "Sylphic silences are not permitted in courts."

A small ripple of laughter ran around the room and Belaika blushed a brighter blue.

The chairman's gaze swung away from the witness to the people in the courtroom. "This court of inquiry is investigating two vile murders," he intoned. "It is not a comedy."

Silence and order were immediately restored. The chairman's attention returned to Belaika.

"I am Belaika- _y_ -Marcus." The sylph confirmed his name.

"You were assigned to work for the claimant Branad Ulvic Vintner."

"Yes."

Belaika was tempted to nod his way through the initial questions, which he thought pointless as the chairman already knew the answers. Instead, he replied fully to each question. It took the court several minutes to establish that he belonged to Marcus Vintner, that he scouted for the army and that he had been serving Branad partly to report back to his master. Only then did the questioning proper begin.

"On the night of the murder, what made you go to Branad?"

Belaika took a deep breath. "I woke and knew something was wrong, that someone who should not had come to the tent. When he left, I went to check Branad- _ya_. I called for the guard when I realized what had happened, but he did not come."

"Did you challenge or speak to this person in the tent?"

Belaika nodded, before remembering that he had to speak. "He told me to go back to sleep."

"Did you see this man's face?"

"Yes."

"Can you identify this man?"

The sylph took a deep breath. This was going to be difficult. "Yes, but he is not the killer."

"Just answer the question."

"Yes, I can identify him."

"Can you name him?"

"No, because I do not –"

"That you can identify him is all that is relevant," snapped the chairman. "In a moment, I will bring someone before the court I want you to either identify or reject as the person you saw in Branad's tent just before you discovered the corpse."

Belaika thought that his heart was going to pound its way out of his chest. He glanced in the direction of the woman with the speedwell eyes, but found no help there. "The man I saw looks and sounds like a man I can identify." The sylph fought tears. This court would indict a man he believed innocent! "But the murderer is not that man."

A door opened and two guards brought General Kelanus to stand between Belaika and the chairman. Kelanus had lost none of his spirit and he winked at the sylph.

"Is this the man who woke you in Branad's tent?" demanded the chairman.

Belaika looked again at the speedwell-eyed woman. She leaned forward in interest, chin resting on one hand.

The sylph focused his attention on the chairman. "No," he replied.

A gasp left several hundred throats.

The sylph stood straighter and his expression firmed, gaze fixed just above the chairman's head. "This is not the man who woke me in Branad- _ya_ 's tent."

Kelanus wore a satisfied look.

The chairman stared. His attitude changed and he leaned forward, voice softening. "There is nothing to gain by sheltering this man. An innocent guard died so the murderer could get to Branad. Is this the man you saw in the tent on the night of the murder?"

"No," repeated Belaika. "The man I saw looked like this man and sounded like this man, but _he was not this man_."

"You may stand down."

To his surprise, the sylph was not escorted from the courtroom, but permitted to sit on the floor beside an empty bench. Then, with Kelanus left standing in the middle of the room, the other witnesses returned under guard. Marcus and Verdin, now apparently happy in each other's company; Ranallic and the guard from outside Marcus's tent. Once all were seated, the chairman summed up.

"This court of inquiry is not here to establish guilt, but to ascertain the facts of each case brought before it. It recommends to the Justiciary if there is a case to answer. On balance of probability, here is a case to answer. This court has established that the same person murdered both Branad and his tent guard, and we have established that the sylph named Belaika is the only witness. We also know only one person here has motive aplenty to remove Branad Vintner."

The chairman stared at all the witnesses before continuing. "We know that Branad Vintner renounced his claim to the vacant Throne before the Senate on the day of his murder. This somewhat reduces the possibility of Marcus Vintner's involvement. Too, Marcus had ample opportunity to kill Branad Vintner before he arrived in Marka, if he ever had such intention.

"However, this court has also heard how one man was removed from his position as commander of Branad's army after being identified as the perpetrator of several sylph murders. The court wonders why this man was not tried at the time by the proper authorities in Sandester."

Ranallic grinned at Kelanus, who stared balefully back. Belaika looked up at his master and shivered.

"This court rests that General Kelanus Arus Butros is most likely the man responsible for the murder of Branad Ulvic Vintner, former claimant to the Markan Throne and that of Wulta Arec Healan, the guard outside the tent. Until such time as a proper trial under Markan Law can be convened, Kelanus is to be held at the pleasure of the Supreme Council in a secure place. This court is at an end. Thank you, gentlemen."

Kelanus, surrounded by City Guardsmen, left the courtroom quietly.

"It was not him," insisted Belaika. He looked around for the speedwell-eyed woman, but found no sign of her. "Not him."

***

That Verdin and Marcus Vintner were on speaking terms seemed to mollify many who wondered about Marcus's innocence. That Kelanus had been indicted flashed through the camp: Marcus suspected the men heard the result of the court of inquiry before the chairman had sat down again. The sense of imminent violence had abated, at least for the moment. Marcus gathered all those ranked Sergeant and above to make an announcement. The off-duty soldiers crowded behind and Marcus's words were relayed back to them.

"Furthermore, as Kelanus has been indicted for these awful murders, it is impossible for him to continue as my commander. I have therefore decided to promote General Ranallic Eydren to take his place..."

Belaika, sulking over that indictment, stared around at the soldiers and realization dawned that his master had actually made a very shrewd choice. By picking Ranallic to lead both armies, he had averted the risk of Branad's men turning against him. He shivered as the feeling he had last sensed in Branad's tent on the night of the murder crept over him again. The feeling of something being very wrong and it emanated from somebody here.

The feeling left him as quickly as it had come. The sylph tried not to cry out and rubbed his arms as if to comfort himself.

But he had again sensed Branad's true murderer.

***

Marlen grinned to himself as he took a careful swallow of his ale. He even smiled at the sylph girl who waited on, though her return smile was cautious and reluctant. Equally elated, Petan stretched out his arms, hands clasped together, and cracked the bones. For once, they ignored the sylph beggar opposite the entrance, not even a topic of discussion.

"The rumors are spreading nicely," remarked Petan. "The Senate should vote as we want."

Marlen nodded. "Plenty are willing to believe that Marcus was behind Branad's death and our rumors may even be true."

Petan grinned. "Nobody in Marka will support Marcus now, even if Branad did renounce his claim."

"Depends on what the son decides to do. Perhaps Verdin will pursue it. We must start a rumor that Branad died because he intended to say that he was forced into the renunciation. There are plenty in the Supreme Council and Senate ready to believe that one. Still more on the streets."

"Our people are working on the soldiers who enter the city in their free time," continued Petan. "Those who used to fight for Branad must be wondering what sort of man leads them now."

Marlen sounded a note of caution. "Do not underestimate Marcus Vintner. He was shrewd enough to put Ranallic in command."

"Surprised it wasn't Mikhan. He commands more respect in both armies than the southlander."

"Mikhan's officially retired. And he probably recommended Kelanus to Branad in the first place. Many will remember."

Petan's smile broadened. "Kelanus has lost out again."

Marlen laughed and beckoned the sylph to supply more ale. As she placed the frothing mugs before the two men, Marlen spoke again. "Kelanus is either very unlucky or extremely stupid. First he mutilates and murders other people's sylphs, now he assassinates claimants to the Throne."

"And this time he is guilty as charged."

Marlen nodded. "Despite what that foolish sylph scout says." He sniffed. "For now, we do nothing but spread rumors. Let's see how the situation develops, eh?"

***

Marcus Vintner was not in the best of moods.

"Millions of sylphs, all ready to obey their owners, willing to serve with no questions asked, and _I_ end up with two who insist on arguing with me!"

Belaika and Jenn exchanged glances, thankful to be alone in the tent. Obviously the guards could hear, but they were always discreet.

"That is not quite true," began the scout, hesitantly.

"You're doing it now!" Marcus almost howled.

" _Enya_ , you have always encouraged me to speak my mind," protested Jenn. "Your best interests are closest to my heart."

The male sylph nodded his agreement.

"If Belaika says that the man in Branad's tent was not Kelanus- _ya_ then it was not him," continued Jenn. "Why do you not believe him?"

Marcus sighed. "It's not a matter of me not believing him. It's a matter of everybody else not believing him. That's the problem. I cannot simply go to the Supreme Council and demand that they let Kelanus go. Even if they did, do you think he'd ever be safe? How long before someone sticks a knife in him?"

"You cannot desert him – they will hang him!" Horror painted Belaika's face. Kelanus faced worse than hanging, but no sylph would dwell on that.

"You're right: I've no intention of deserting Kelanus."

"What are you going to do?" Both sylphs stared expectantly at their owner.

"I don't know." Marcus looked deflated. He shook his head. "I just don't know."

The guard called from outside the tent. "Sir! A caravan is arriving with Guard Commander Mansard."

A smile played across Marcus's face. "At last, some good news. This will be Zandra."

Belaika's earpoints twitched upright for the first time since leaving the courtroom and his eyes danced with expectation. "Eleka?"

"Should be." Marcus watched as Jenn's expression changed from determination to disappointment. "Jenn, more water for alovak, please."

Marcus and Belaika left together and the tent flap fell back into place, cutting off Jenn's reply. Belaika sprinted ahead of his owner, having spotted a familiar blue shape, albeit swollen around the middle.

As Marcus reached Zandra, Belaika and Eleka were embracing, their noses, foreheads and earpoints touching. Marcus smiled as Belaika broke free from the embrace to hug his small daughters. No doubt their infertile daughters stayed behind in Calcan, but no sylph counted infertile children as important anyway. Everybody helped raise them, but only humans ever bonded with infertiles.

"The other married men will be jealous," said Marcus, after hugging and kissing Zandra, "that my wife is here and theirs are not."

Zandra smiled. "More follow in the next caravan." She inspected her husband carefully. "You do not look to have come to much harm."

Beside them, the two sylphs continued to talk. Even the most taciturn sylphs talked with a husband or wife.

Marcus now hugged and kissed his three daughters, and held his infant son in the air. Finished with the children, he shook hands with Mansard and turned to more serious matters. Now that his wife and most valued counselor again stood at his side, he felt he could unburden some.

"Zandra, come to my tent," said Marcus.

Zandra nodded to Kaira, leaving the governess to gather the Vintner children and hold the infant Eylvras in her arms.

"Where's Jenn?" asked Zandra, after a quick glance around the tent interior showed they had it to themselves.

"I sent her for more alovak," replied Marcus.

"How thoughtful."

Marcus said nothing. He knew Jenn did not hold Zandra as high in her affections as he might like. He had never expected such jealousy from a sylph. And Zandra tried so hard to be friendly, only to be ignored.

Moments later, Jenn returned with fresh boiling water and extra mugs.

"How are you, Jenn?" asked Zandra, trying to make conversation.

"Well, _anya_ ," came the reply. "Alovak?"

Marcus winced at Jenn's obvious reluctance to talk. He could only ignore it; the infertile had always behaved this way around Zandra, especially after a separation. His wife always complained that she had to start over with Jenn every time they met after Marcus had been in the field.

"I sense all is not well," said Zandra, as she made herself comfortable and accepted alovak from Jenn. "What's wrong?"

"Branad is dead. Murdered. Rumors abound that I'm somehow responsible. Kelanus is in prison, accused of committing the murder."

"Which he did not commit," muttered Jenn. "If Belaika says he did not then he did not." She glared resentfully at the two humans, and her earpoints twitched.

Marcus gestured. "And my sylphs have taken Kelanus's side."

"Tell me everything," said Zandra. "Everything." She gave Jenn a concerned look, unused to seeing the small infertile so annoyed. "Including why you are in disagreement with your sylphs."

***

"My door hasn't stopped all bloody day," grumbled Olista.

Unused to swearwords from his master, Zenepha stared wide-eyed, earpoints bolt upright with shock. Unruffled, Sandev stirred her alovak before inhaling its scent, her eyes closed. Finally, she sipped at the dark drink and settled back into the chair. The three of them were alone in the small sitting room.

"What do your people say?" she asked.

"Rumors aplenty in the city but nobody knows which ones to believe," replied Olista. "The main feedback is anger and betrayal. Those who supported Branad refuse to believe that he really wanted to renounce his claim and say they now intend to support Verdin. They say Marcus Vintner tricked Branad into renunciation and had him killed so he couldn't retract."

Sandev gave no reaction; she had heard similar rumors.

He snorted. "Fools if they believe that. Some folk should never be allowed to become Senators, never mind High Councilors. Some of Marcus's supporters have also transferred their allegiance to Verdin. A delegation will meet with the young man tomorrow. They also want to speak with his mother, in case the meeting does not quite go their way."

"Verdin seems a determined and honorable young man," pointed out Sandev.

"Perhaps. More Senators want us to reject the Vintners altogether. Some feel it is time to elevate another family to the Throne. I fear Hingast may have won converts to his cause. I could wish it was Enthan, but Hingast is nearer."

"We cannot allow that. We must take back the initiative." Sandev turned her speedwell eyes to Zenepha and smiled at him, before returning her attention to the Supreme Councilor.

Zenepha shivered. He did not like that smile.

"There will be another row before this is over," Sandev told Olista. She took another sip of her alovak. "The sylph Belaika is the only witness to the murder."

Zenepha sat straighter and took more notice. "I have met him."

Sandev smiled and nodded. "A scout. And adamant that whoever killed Branad was not Kelanus. The court refused to believe him, because it was 'only a feeling'. I visited the tent where Branad died. It still stinks of sorcery."

Olista stared. "So this Kelanus is a sorcerer?"

"No, I'm sure that Kelanus is innocent. I believe Belaika. The sorcerer made sure the sylph saw him and made sure he saw him as Kelanus. If you're going to commit a murder, would you walk away and leave a witness you could easily kill? Our murderer had already killed the guard outside the tent, presumably for convenience, so why get all squeamish about one more, even if it is a sylph?"

"You're going to get involved." Olista shook his head. "Siranva preserve us."

"I am not going to see an innocent man hang for a crime he did not commit. That much I promise you."

Olista sighed as a timid knock on the door preceded Helena.

"I beg pardon, sir, but there's another High Councilor at the door."

"Which one?"

Helena's brow furrowed. "He didn't say, sir."

"Will you ask him to call back in one hour? I'm in the middle of an appointment I cannot cancel."

Helena left, wearing a worried look. Olista turned back to Sandev.

"It's been like this all day," he complained. "Yesterday was bad enough." He sighed. "What is it you want from me? You must understand that, with what is planned, any help I give cannot be traced back to either of us." He glanced quickly at Zenepha.

Sandev inclined her head in thanks. "That is understood. I want three night passes for the gates."

"Night passes? Not easy. No problem for the city gates, but there's little I can do about the Vintner guards."

Sandev smiled. "Leave the Vintner guards to me."

As he listened to the outline of Sandev's plan, Zenepha marveled at the ingenuity of humans.

***

Belaika enjoyed some time with Eleka. The army had encamped on the forested side of the city and well away from the cultivated areas, where many streams poured out from the forest. The sylphs had found a quiet spot beside a stream – not quite large enough to be called a river – where they could be alone. The two sylphs were beyond talking; they lay on the grass and stared at each other.

Belaika's hand strayed onto his wife's stomach more than once and he felt the child inside kick. Definitely only one: a boy. He rolled onto his back and stared into the cloudless sky, thinking of what he could do with his son and what he would teach him. So much could only be shared between father and son.

Despite these quiet moments of relaxation, the real world still intruded. Every now and again, shouts reached his ears as soldiers drilled, or some food clung desperately to life as long as possible before being slaughtered for the cooks. The army surrounded half the city, but Belaika did not want to leave the safety of the armed ring, which meant there were few quiet spots to be found. He had a sudden feeling of unease.

Eleka started up and dug her hand into her husband's ribs.

"Do not fear," said a melodic voice, "I will not harm you."

Belaika sat up to see the woman with speedwell eyes he remembered from the courtroom. She smiled at him now.

"Who are you? What do you want?" He hoped fear did not sound in his voice. Bad enough with his earpoints lying backwards to shout his fear to the world. "How did you get here?"

"I walked here. I mean you no harm, Belaika- _y_ -Marcus. I am Sandev."

"Sandev- _ya_." Belaika nodded in acknowledgment, but Eleka just stared in awe.

"I wanted to speak with you," continued Sandev. "About Kelanus. Not many are as certain he is innocent of murder."

The scout stared and felt compelled to speak. "He is innocent. There was something... wrong... about the man in the tent."

"Like this?" asked Sandev.

Belaika almost squealed and rubbed his arms as if suddenly cold. The woman before him didn't change, but something terrifying emanated from her. "Yes! Now I do not feel it." His eyes were wide.

Eleka rubbed her arms.

"Don't be afraid." Sandev tried and failed to reassure the sylphs. "What you feel is the Father's Gift. Sorcery is similar and sylphs are sensitive to it. I am certain Kelanus is no sorcerer and neither is he blessed with the Gift. Whoever murdered Branad and his guard held power."

"So why not feel who it is all the time? Seeing you this morning, I knew you had power, but not like... like you just did." Belaika somehow knew that this woman had great age, but he thought it might be rude to say so.

"Perhaps he can hide it, invert it somehow. A few can. Or perhaps he does not fully believe what he is capable of."

Belaika shook his head. "At least I am not losing my mind. Only the scouts and Jenn believe me."

"And me," put in Eleka, quickly.

Belaika squeezed her hand as if to say _of course and you_.

"Two of the most powerful people in Marka believe you," countered Sandev. "One is on the Supreme Council."

"What are these powerful people going to do about it?" Belaika's attitude suddenly changed. "Forgive me, _donanya_ , but my owner encourages me to speak freely."

Sandev smiled again. "You may speak as you wish. My own sylph speaks her mind freely. As to your question, these powerful people will move to help Kelanus before his trial. But you both must keep silent about it and tell nobody other than your master. Belaika, I will be indebted to you if you will arrange for me to see Marcus. I will meet you here tomorrow evening and we can go to see your owner together, should he wish. Just him and me. And you, of course. Will you do this?"

The scout inclined his head. " _Se bata_."

Belaika and Eleka were suddenly alone.

Eleka's eyes were wide. "She frightened me," she complained.

"And me," admitted Belaika.

***

Neptarik- _y_ -Balnus, lucky scarf in place to still his ears, scanned the five cards quickly, trying to decide whether to call for a sixth or not. His owner Balnus had been luckier than usual: he was still in. He hummed a snatch of 'A Boy's Life is a Good Life'.

"Card," said Balnus.

Ean, again acting as banker, pushed a card across the table.

Both Callen, turning his face to show off his fresh scar to best advantage, and Nazan pushed their piles of copper partas to the center of the table. Erras pushed his coins out. Balnus followed suit.

"Neptarik?" Erras pointed to the pile of coins.

The sylph, silent as always, nodded and pushed his coins to join the rest.

"Eighteen," declared Callen.

"Seventeen." Balnus looked disgusted with himself.

"Twenty." Nazan grinned.

Erras stared at Neptarik. "You first."

The sylph stared back and turned his cards over.

"Sixteen!" Erras could barely hide his glee. "Twenty-two!" he declared, reaching out to scoop the coins in his direction.

While Ean dealt, Erras turned back to Neptarik. "There has been much talk about Branad's murder. How can Belaika claim it wasn't Kelanus?"

"If he says it was not Kelanus, then it was not," growled Neptarik.

"All the scouts agree on that," added Ean.

"When you people talk, you like to gang up on someone," laughed Erras, surprised that the usually silent sylphs had said anything. "Those of us who served under Kelanus before he went to Marcus can't believe it, either. That does not make it truth, however."

"If you do not like the answer," said Neptarik, "then do not ask the question."

"Kelanus had the motive," said Callen. "Everybody knows that."

Balnus tapped the table. "I believe that Kelanus is innocent. Why would he decide to screw everything up now? It's not done Marcus Vintner any good, has it?"

"Verdin Vintner is devastated," continued Erras. "Most of the men – in our camp anyway – are too. Branad was a good leader."

"Can we sleep safe?" asked Nazan. "I thought yesterday that we'd be fighting each other again."

"I think most of the men agree Marcus Vintner had nothing to do with it. At least now they do." Erras twisted his mouth. "But they do not think the same about Kelanus." He raised his voice a little before Neptarik had a chance to interrupt. "Innocent or guilty, that's the way it is. There's nobody in this camp who looks anything like Kelanus, so how could it be anybody but? Simple logic."

"Why would Kelanus try and destabilize the army? It makes no sense." Balnus looked around at everybody.

"He did not try anything; it was not him," protested Neptarik.

Ean tapped the table, unusually assertive. His silver eyes stared around the table. "Are you placing bets tonight, or after the guard is changed?"

The men laughed. Neptarik and Ean exchanged glances. They knew everybody was on edge. The piles of copper partas were pushed to the center of the table. Eyes went down to the cards and the serious business of winning and losing money began all over again. Everything in life was a gamble and risks must be assessed before taking every step.

But who had gambled with all their lives?

***
**Chapter 7**

Escape

Kelanus paced his cell. He had never before witnessed the inside of a prison, not even after Ranallic made his vile accusations. Kelanus paused. That had happened when he still commanded Branad's army. Just two years ago, it seemed a world away now.

That world had shrunk somewhat. The sparse cell had an uncomfortable bed and an equally uncomfortable wooden chair. His light came from a small barred window high in one wall, or through the grille set in the heavy oak door. The only fresh air came from the window and Siranva knew that this place needed as much fresh air as it could get.

Turning again, Kelanus saw he now had company.

"Ranva's eyes, who are you?" he demanded. He had not heard the door and he had definitely not blacked out. "How did you get in here?"

"A friend," replied the stranger, whose sapphire-blue eyes sparkled in the poor light. "My name is Sandev. I am here to help you."

Kelanus, more off balance than he dared admit even to himself, stared angrily back. "I never heard you come in. You have come to mock me? If what they say about me is true, I could easily kill you before the guards could get here."

Sandev smiled. "If you tried to kill me, Kelanus Butros, rest assured you would live to regret it. I am not here to mock you, but because I believe you are innocent."

Kelanus's eyes narrowed. "You _are_ here to mock me."

"I know sylphs better than most people alive. Belaika overcame his natural deference to humans in court yesterday and insisted on speaking the truth. Sylphs rarely stand up to humans like that, even when they are certain, which means he is convinced. Marcus Vintner doesn't believe you are guilty and also at least one member of the Supreme Council believes the same. Together, you have some powerful friends."

"If you're going to sit, I recommend you take the chair." Kelanus gestured helplessly. "I think the bed's alive."

Sandev smiled and took the chair.

"It isn't just because of Belaika that you believe I'm innocent, is it?"

"Mostly him, but partly you."

"Partly me? I've hardly been civil toward you so far."

"I'm close enough to know neither the Gift nor sorcery flows in you. I visited Branad's tent, which stank of sorcery. Sylphs can sense sorcery, even if they fail to recognize it. Belaika sensed its use and that caused his unease. It's why he's certain that, despite appearances, he wasn't looking at you."

Sandev paused. "Sylphs often see more than they let on. Whoever murdered Branad and his guard used enough sorcery to scare the ears off any sylph, no matter how courageous."

Kelanus stared. "There aren't many who would believe you."

"That is true." Sandev nodded. "But with one exception, none of them were in the tent with Belaika and Branad. Who do you think murdered him?"

"Were you there all the way through the inquiry?"

"For the evidence yes, but please answer my question."

Kelanus's mouth twisted. "Then you heard why I left Branad's army."

"Answer my question, please."

"I will. Everybody asks who stood to gain by Branad's murder, or what motive anyone else could have."

Sandev rested her hands in her lap and crossed her legs. Her eyes were intent on Kelanus's face. "Go on."

"They should ask who stands to gain by having _me_ out of the way. Who gained most when I lost my last command and who stands to gain most now?"

Sandev suspected she had underestimated this man. "Marcus has put General Ranallic in command of the combined army. Ranallic replaced you then and he's replaced you now."

"I believe he is responsible for Branad's murder. Either by his hand or his command."

"The timing is wrong for your theory to stand up."

"The timing is exactly right," countered Kelanus. "Branad announced to all that he'd dropped his claim. The murder happened when it did because Ranallic knew there were enough witnesses to support Marcus when he said that he stood to gain nothing. Any argument that Marcus murdered Branad is built on feeble foundations. That could only stand if he acted before Branad's intentions were known. The timing couldn't be better." The prisoner forced a smile. "It fits my theory."

"Marcus might have ordered the murder before Branad renounced his claim."

"And Marcus had almost two days to rescind those orders after he renounced it," said Kelanus.

"Perhaps Branad's son is to blame," said Sandev. "A squandered birthright."

"Verdin would also have moved before the renunciation of the claim, immediately after Branad told us he intended going before the Senate. The timing is wrong for Verdin to be responsible. And patricide is not his style, I think. But Ranallic would not move while Branad still had a chance of becoming Emperor."

"Why do you say that?

Kelanus smiled. "Ambition. Obviously, he does not want the Throne himself, but he does want to stand a step below whoever wins it. As Branad renounced his claim, Ranallic would want to replace me as Marcus's commander. That's my theory. I just need the evidence for it."

"How astute of you." Sandev sounded impressed.

"Cut the flattery," growled Kelanus. "Is your question fully answered? I believe Ranallic is responsible for the murder because he knew who would be blamed. Just as he was responsible for the accusations against me two years ago. He stood to gain most by having me out of the way. I _lost_ the most then and again now."

"It might be a mistake to believe you."

Kelanus shrugged. "If I was guilty, do you think I would be so foolish as to leave witnesses to identify me?"

"Not once, but twice." Sandev nodded. "Several have commented on that."

Kelanus decided to change the subject. "How are you going to get me out?"

"Leave that to me. What do you intend to do with your freedom? I trust you won't fritter it away in some vengeance attack on Ranallic?"

Kelanus smiled. "That is exactly what I plan to do. No, no, I'm not going to challenge him, not immediately anyway. I need to travel south and try to find his homeland. I believe he's from about as far south as it's possible to get. I must learn about his early life. I have to get all the evidence I can."

Sandev leaned forward. "May I touch your forehead?"

Kelanus stooped and stood still as Sandev leaned her hand against his head. It felt cool to the touch.

"The best way for you to travel will be by sea," said Sandev. She sat back and broke the contact. "A party of four, I think. Yourself, one of my old students, and two friends from the army."

"The easiest port to get to is Cadister," muttered Kelanus.

"When you reach Cadister, find the Portmaster, a friend of mine. His name is Repp. Just tell him that Sandev sent you and you're looking for a ship to sail as far south as possible."

"Who is your old student?" asked Kelanus.

"Her name is Tahena." A smile flitted across Sandev's face. "A southerner, but I'm sure you won't hold that against her. An excellent student and very gifted."

"When?" Kelanus stared harder at Sandev. "When do I escape?"

"Soon. I must speak with Marcus Vintner. Before I go, another question for you. Do you know anyone in the army who is unmarried and owns an unmarried male sylph?"

"Balnus and Neptarik are the two you want. I'd trust both of them."

"Then I will see them, also."

"Do you know everybody?" asked Kelanus, quietly.

She smiled. "In a way, yes I do."

***

Sandev did not like coming to this place. Though less dangerous than ethereal projection, that did not make it safe. As far as she knew, her soul, her essence, remained in her body and she had projected only part of her mind. Here, she was as close to being nothing as she could possibly be. She had no eyes here, yet she could see: countless centillions of lights, flowing toward a vast luminous pool that would consume all the smaller lights rushing toward it. Even as she watched, new lights flickered into existence in the far distance.

The pool never grew or shrank, the number of lights never increased or diminished. She had no way of measuring or counting, she just knew. She had the impression of equilibrium and perfect balance, as things ought to be.

The lights represented all of life. Strange to think the light of _her_ essence flowed here somewhere, so she could theoretically meet herself. Not that she could possibly recognize anything even if she managed to identify her light.

Despite being as nothing, danger lurked here. _All_ life was here and much of it dangerous; surviving either by wit alone, or else predaceous. Benefic and malefic ilven were here, together with those heavenly or infernal spirits ranked with them. The ranked gods and demons of the Sephiroths were also present, suggesting a line of thought that frightened even her. Plants had a presence here and probably other things too. To be alive was the only qualification.

She did not know where or what _here_ was, only that she used this place to fill gaps in her knowledge. Without knowing what she did, she cast... _something..._ towards the river of lights. Pointless trying to reach those already in the pool – she had never managed to find a way into _that_ – but she freely rummaged through those still picking the way to their inevitable destiny.

Her casting caused confusion and alarm.

What are you?

Why are you here?

GO AWAY!

_Ranallic Eydren,_ she sent. Speech was not it, for she had nothing to speak with, only her consciousness sent out among the endless awarenesses here. _Kelanus Arus Butros_. Best to be sure about him, too. Replies rarely came quickly; sometimes she must return more than once.

Slowly, reluctantly, answers came and some surprised even her.

***

Belaika paced up and down beside the stream, where he had promised to meet Sandev. He now wished he had agreed a specific time with the woman. Evening covered a wide range, from after eating to nightfall. Worse, his master waited patiently in his tent, having canceled his other appointments. He wondered how Sandev would get to Marcus's tent from here without half the camp seeing her.

He sighed and turned towards the stream. A sudden sense of unease caused a shiver and he was no longer alone.

"How did you do that?" he demanded, earpoints bolt upright.

Sandev smiled. "And a good evening to you, Belaika- _y_ -Marcus."

The scout gave an unimpressed sniff while trying not to rub his arms. His question remained unanswered. Some humans were like that, thinking sylphs were easily fobbed off. But Sandev was different. For one thing, her face had no condescending look.

"My master has agreed to meet," he said. "We can meet in his tent. He took some persuading, as he has never heard of you."

"You succeeded."

Belaika nodded. "But how can I get you to his tent without anyone seeing? You wanted secrecy."

"We'll get to his tent the same way I came here without you noticing. I'm sure this small demonstration will also answer your question." Sandev's smile broadened and she gave the sylph a knowing look. "Close your eyes and give me your hand. It won't hurt."

The sylph obeyed and felt Sandev take his blue hand in her own. A sudden jolt and the fear he had felt the night of Branad's murder surged, gone almost before he recognized it. He no longer felt grass under his bare feet, but a rug. Opening his eyes, he almost squeaked in surprise.

He wasn't the only surprised sylph. Jenn, sat at Marcus's feet, shot upright the moment they appeared. Her earpoints poked up through her hair and determination mixed with fear on her face as she stood between Sandev and her owner. Recovering with impressive speed, her earpoints slanted forward determinedly. Fear ebbed away, replaced by quickly masked irritation.

"An impressive entrance," said Marcus, almost sourly. "You must be the mysterious Sandev."

Sandev and Marcus eyed each other, and both seemed to like what they saw. Belaika stared openmouthed from one to the other, wondering why Marcus didn't seem surprised by their arrival. Deciding it was safe, Jenn folded her legs and made herself comfortable at Marcus's feet again.

"I have seen Siranva's Gift at work before," continued Marcus. "I believe that it is born into people, yes? Or do you practice sorcery?"

Sandev tossed her mouse-brown hair. "I possess Siranva's Gift, but it wasn't born into me. Marcus Vintner, I am glad to meet you at last."

"Although I'm always pleased to meet my supporters from the city, I gather this is not why you are here?"

"I'm here to discuss a possible way forward with Kelanus. Like all things worth doing, it carries considerable risk."

Marcus stared. "You believe he is innocent? I can't see what alternative there is other than to follow the law." He glanced quickly at Belaika and Jenn. "My sylphs tell me he is innocent, so he is innocent."

Sandev nodded. "Rare for a human to believe a sylph's instinct."

"I come from a sylph breeding family," replied Marcus. "Not the largest stud, or even the best pedigrees, but you get a feel for sylphs when you spend most of your life around them. When I was younger, my mother sent me to the scullery. She believed such work was good for the soul and taught humility. I befriended sylphs there and learned much more about them than many others ever do." He leaned down and ruffled Jenn's hair. "What they didn't teach me, Jenn did." The infertile sylph twisted around to give her owner an adoring look. "If a sylph is certain of a thing, nothing will shift him." He smiled at Belaika, who blinked but remained silent.

"You were fortunate to have a wise mother."

"And good sylphs to serve me."

Belaika and Jenn blushed a brighter blue from the praise.

"What can we do for Kelanus?" continued Marcus.

Sandev took a breath. "I intend to break him out of prison, out of the city and away from here. There is work for him. He must find evidence against the real murderer."

"Who is?"

"That we do not yet know. I must warn you that many in the Senate and Supreme Council will hold you responsible when Kelanus escapes. It will do your claim no good."

Jenn stared from her owner to Sandev and back again.

Marcus stroked his chin. "Can I involve Verdin in this?"

"The fewer who know the better." Sandev quickly sounded caution.

"If those who used to serve Branad believe that I'm responsible for breaking his murderer from jail, you may have a pitched battle immediately outside your city walls." Marcus shook his head. "There will be killing enough when Hingast arrives."

"You know he is on the move?"

Marcus gave Sandev an incredulous look. "I have extensive intelligence networks, built up over generations. Hingast has an advisor always urging direct action in support of his claim. Which is why you have problems with raiders who seem to know exactly where and when to strike to avoid your patrols."

Sandev considered, then nodded her assent. "You may discuss this with Verdin. But be careful; if he proves untrustworthy, Kelanus will end up dead."

"As you say, all things worth doing carry considerable risk." Marcus turned to Belaika.

Without a word said by anyone, the scout inclined his head and left the tent. Jenn rose to her feet at a gesture from her owner and followed Belaika.

"Those are very good sylphs. You must be proud of them."

Marcus smiled again. "My best two."

"Favorites?"

"You could put it that way. I've sent Jenn to brew alovak; she should be back soon."

"Alovak will be most welcome. I'm surprised Zandra is not here."

Marcus laughed. "There's barely room for me in here, never mind the family as well. Besides, she's no fan of tents, so she's taken rooms in the city. Took Branad's wives with her, trying to build bridges. And probably calling on Senators' wives to introduce herself."

The guard called from outside. "Verdin Vintner and Belaika- _y_ -Marcus."

"Let them pass," replied Marcus.

"You wanted to see me?" Verdin Vintner stood before Marcus.

"Yes. Please take a seat."

Verdin took the chair indicated and crossed his legs. He gave Sandev a neutral look.

Marcus met the younger man's gaze. "This is Sandev. A woman with some power, I believe."

Verdin started. "You might say that." His eyes narrowed as he stared in awe. "This is Sandev!"

"You have heard of me?" Sandev seemed surprised and disappointed.

"One of the Ten." A multitude of emotions flickered across Verdin's face. Awe, fear, respect, worry, envy.

Marcus half started up and Belaika looked frightened all over again. "One of the Ten?" demanded Marcus.

Sandev smiled gently. "I don't boast. Not all of us stayed loyal to the Father. Everybody knowing who I am could prove dangerous."

"How?"

"I suspect the advisor to Hingast you mentioned is a man named Dervra."

Verdin groaned. "Another of the Ten. He turned against Siranva and rejected civilization. He worships some demon named... something."

"Andromech," replied Sandev. "A long story, but everything we do is part of an ongoing battle for the Ilvenworld, whether it remains controlled by the Benefic Sephiroth, or falls to the Malefic. A battle that has raged for longer than humans have been here. One that may never end."

"All right, enough." Marcus held up his hands. He could see that this talk frightened Belaika and was pleased that Jenn had not yet returned. "Kelanus is our immediate concern."

Verdin went very still. "Kelanus," he hissed. "Go on."

Marcus sighed and leaned back. "You might not agree, but I do not believe that Kelanus is the murderer."

"Nor do I," added Sandev.

"Or even that he had anything to do with it," continued Marcus.

Verdin stared, blue eyes wide. "I appreciate that you and he were friends, but we were friends, too. Like brothers. I looked up to him and loved him as I would an older brother." He shook his head. "I cannot believe it, either, but the evidence is strong."

Jenn slipped back into the tent, carrying an alovak can. A scowl furrowed her brow when she saw an additional human in the tent and rummaged about for an extra mug. She then poured the alovak and served it, before sitting cross-legged at Marcus's feet again. The three humans spent a few moments inhaling the aroma of the drink.

"This evidence is what I want to talk to you about." Marcus paused again. "Belaika is convinced that Kelanus is innocent. When a sylph says he knows something, then he knows it. He says that despite appearances, the person he saw was definitely not Kelanus."

Verdin looked across the tent at the scout. For his part, Belaika looked directly back, his earpoints slanted forward in determination.

"And I agree with him," added Sandev. "When I went to your father's tent, it reeked of sorcery and, as I now know, that is power Kelanus does not possess. Whoever murdered your father used enough sorcery to be sensed for days. I can still feel the residue of it from here."

"I was taught that sorcery can be hidden," countered Verdin.

"By a few," agreed Sandev. "But that's a rare skill. And it cannot be hidden from sylphs, even if they do not know what it is they sense."

Verdin arched an eyebrow. "Sylphs are not Gifted."

"As far as we know."

Marcus and Verdin looked at the sylphs, who wilted a little under the intense scrutiny. Belaika shrugged and Jenn shook her head in denial.

"One well skilled in the Gift can sense power in others," continued Sandev. "We certainly know when we get close enough when that power has been used. It was used in your father's tent. I also know those who do not possess the Gift or sorcery when I get close enough. Kelanus does not have the Gift and he has not learned sorcery. That I _can_ swear to."

"Then who murdered my father?" demanded Verdin. "There's nobody here that looks like Kelanus, or even sounds like him."

"It wasn't Kelanus," insisted Marcus.

"What do you intend to do about it?" Verdin stared at Marcus and Sandev.

"We don't know yet. But I will force Kelanus's release if I must."

"That would not make you very popular."

"Better that than see an innocent man swing for a crime he did not commit." Marcus shrugged. "I've been unpopular before; one gets used to it."

"I see. And if we start killing each other again? Over a man who is probably guilty as charged?"

"He is innocent," interrupted Belaika.

Unused to sylphs joining in the conversations of their betters, Verdin frowned at the scout, who refused to be stared down and silently dared the human to name him liar.

"Are you prepared to consider the possibility that Kelanus is innocent?" Sandev looked at the young man. "I believe he is. And as you can see, Belaika is convinced of it."

"A possibility." Verdin snorted. "Hearing that Kelanus murdered my father surprised me. If Ranallic lay dead, nothing would convince me he is innocent, no matter how insistent this boy is to the contrary. But a man's mind sometimes works in odd directions, as my mother would say."

Marcus nodded. "I can't guarantee Kelanus's innocence, but I'm prepared to take his word and Belaika's together as pretty strong evidence for it. Kelanus would not risk destroying my chances of recognition just for personal revenge. Of course, the Supreme Council and Senate may try to pressure _you_ into taking the Throne. If Kelanus hated your father – and he certainly never hinted to me in two years that he did – it would better serve his hatred for your father to see me chosen over him. Ranallic's position is – or was – more at risk from that. If you're chosen now, Ranallic still stands above him."

"If you cannot bring yourself to believe in Kelanus's innocence, are you prepared to trust Marcus's judgment?" pressed Sandev. "Belaika's judgment?"

Verdin sighed. He stared at his feet and muttered under his breath before looking up again. "Very well," he said. "I don't know how many will believe Belaika. What he claims is incredible and – sorry, but this must be said – he is only a sylph. I will trust you, Sandev." He tried to ignore Belaika's wry look.

Sandev nodded her thanks and turned to Marcus. "Kelanus said there are two soldiers he could trust with his life. Both unmarried. Balnus and Neptarik."

"Neptarik is a sylph, not a soldier," corrected Marcus.

Sandev nodded. "Just so. Will you send Belaika to bring them before us, please?"

Marcus nodded his assent.

***

The streets of Marka were dark. The moon had gone and only starlight glistened on damp cobblestones. A red glow on the far side of the city came from the light crystal atop the pyramid. Though the main thoroughfares had light crystals, few other streets were lit. The city was silent and almost deserted, but for two shapes that flitted from building to building, hoping not to be seen. Patrolling watchmen carried pole lanterns to help them see where they were going, which also made them easy to spot. The two shapes had no need for lanterns, for one of them could see in the dark and he guided the one who could not.

Thieves had finished their work for the night and they had only a slight risk of disturbing a beggar. Once the inns and taverns had turned out, there were few people about, so most of the night beggars then scavenged from refuse heaps, hoping to find a little more food or carelessly discarded valuables.

Thieves, scavengers and the two furtive shapes lay low whenever a watchman passed.

Balnus – one of those furtive shapes – waited for Neptarik's signal before moving from cover. The sylph passed an arm across his faintly glowing silvery gray eyes to signal whenever close to his owner, or gave a whistle pitched for human ears if they were further apart. The soldier hurried to join his sylph, before the lad dashed away again, halting at the next corner and repeating his signal if safe. Their destination eventually lay before them: the east gate.

This gate and its western twin in the industrial quarter were always locked at night, perhaps one reason why the Markan authorities held Kelanus here. Conveniently out of the way for them. Conveniently out of the way for Balnus and Neptarik, also.

"Sandev said the guardhouse door is always unlocked," whispered Balnus. He fumbled with the bundle of clothes he carried. "Can't see a damned thing," he muttered.

Neptarik nodded and hummed a quick bar of _Running Free_. "Might be easier if you sort those when you get inside," he suggested. "Bring mine out after you have found yours."

"All right. The guards should be asleep by now." Balnus carried a club just in case they weren't, but he hoped to have no need for it. If Kelanus was innocent, the guards were doubly so. And he had no idea how many would be in there.

Neptarik covered his eyes with his hands and looked away to preserve night vision as Balnus opened the door. The human disappeared inside, while the sylph crouched on his heels, ready to sound a warning if anything went wrong. Neptarik pushed the door to and stood ready to close it if someone came. He kept his eyes averted from the small pool of light spilling out. Difficult enough to see, thanks to the walls and windows of the surrounding buildings, so he had no wish to make his life harder unnecessarily. He much preferred open countryside to cities as the light always seemed better.

He wondered what the wild sylphs thought of the city. Many had entered, but few stayed within the walls for long. Probably as awed by the city as other newcomers. And the pyramid! He stiffened as footsteps approached. He tensed, ready to shut the door, but whoever it was quickly faded away. Probably a watchman. He glanced towards the pool of light and wished his owner would get a move on.

The moment Balnus entered the guardhouse, he heaved a sigh of relief. The Watch Sergeant and his assistant were fast asleep. Sandev had assured him no poison would be used, only a simple sleeping drug added to their food. Getting Kelanus out of here would be easy, but escaping the city might be more difficult.

He more than half wished that Sandev would simply use her gift, or whatever it was, to magick them all outside the city. He understood that they risked having an investigator sniffing at the air and saying that either sorcery or something similar had been used to spring Kelanus. It would do Kelanus's case no good, but Balnus suspected there might be a deeper reason. Cowardice had occurred to him, though Sandev did not strike him as being a coward.

She had explained that they must leave a trail to explain how they got out of the city. It must look like a straightforward escape. There could be no hint of the authorities' involvement and no hint of the Gift or sorcery.

He hurried down the short stair to the cells and set his bundle on the table beside another sleeping guardsman. The man breathed evenly and did not move. He glanced down the corridor, dimly lit by shuttered light crystals. He had enough light to see, but he picked up a light crystal lantern anyway.

"There are no keys," explained Sandev. "Every cell is bolted top, middle and bottom. Nothing more has been needed before."

"Third cell on left," muttered Balnus, striding down the corridor. Taking a deep breath, he stooped to release the bottom bolt, followed by the top and finally the middle. He pulled the door open.

"Am I glad to see you, Balnus." Kelanus's bass rumble came out of the darkness.

"I suggest we keep the pleasantries until we're outside the city, Sir," Balnus whispered back. "Has Sandev explained the plan to you?"

Kelanus stepped out and shielded his eyes against the relative brightness after the darkness of his cell. Beard bristled his chin and cheeks. "That's a good idea, soldier. And yes she has. Neptarik outside, is he?"

"Of course."

"Lead me out of here."

Balnus paused at the table, both to set down the light crystal lantern and open his package, easier to deal with now he had light to see. "Put this on."

The two men pulled the robes about them, pulling cowls up to hide their faces. Balnus carried the third robe back up the steps and into the guardhouse. He paused at the door.

"Neptarik?"

"Still clear," replied the sylph, in little more than a whisper.

As Kelanus and Balnus left the building, Neptarik inclined his head. After Balnus passed the spare robe to the scout, he swung the guardhouse door shut and ignored Neptarik's grumbles about the scratchiness of the woolen robe.

"Now for the South Gate," whispered Balnus.

Kelanus nodded.

Again, Neptarik flitted from corner to corner, beckoning the night-blind humans on once he checked the way ahead. As they neared the South Gate, they joined the main thoroughfare, lit enough for all three to see clearly.

"Cowls up!" hissed Balnus. "We can be seen now."

It was difficult to walk towards the gate in the company of a man suspected of committing the most heinous of crimes. Even Kelanus felt like skulking in the shadows. Hearing their approach, the guard detached himself from shadow and walked into the lit area, taking a light crystal lantern from its hook.

"You three had better have your papers in order," growled the guard, "or I'll lock you up until daybreak. Why you religious freaks can't wait until then anyway is beyond me."

Balnus proffered three pieces of paper. "Our passes," he said, calmly, "and may Siranva forgive you your unkind words." The set of his shoulders suggested that he would rather plant a knife in the guard's ribs for his rudeness.

The guard snorted as he quickly scanned the papers. His eyes widened slightly as he saw Captain Crallin's signature on the passes, but he frowned at the signature in place for the perimeter guards. "Best of luck with the guards at the perimeter," he said. "I'm surprised any of those country bumpkins can even bloody read. Signed by General Ranallic, whoever he is." The guard unlocked the sallyport. "Go on with you; piss off."

"Pleasant fellow," remarked Kelanus, once the sallyport slammed shut after them.

"We're not out of it yet," warned Balnus. "Marcus has groups camped on every road, to remind everybody that he is really here. We'll be challenged again."

"This Tahena should be with the horses on the hillock beyond the southernmost guard." Kelanus gave a low chuckle. "Ranallic signed those passes? The man who would see me dead has signed my pass to freedom. Sandev has a sense of irony."

"Shush!" warned Balnus. "Let's get out of here alive, huh? It's Verdin's mob at this end and you're not very popular with them at the moment."

Marcus had only established a small camp on the southern road, so they reached the guard at the end quickly enough.

Neptarik stiffened as they approached the outer guard, then tried to look unobtrusive. The guard, one of Verdin's men who expected three religious travelers, had a sylph scout with him, eyes glowing in the faint light.

Both Balnus and Kelanus drew the cowls of their robes as far forward as they could. With any luck, the sylph would see nothing of their faces.

The scout paid them little attention, though he glanced at Neptarik a couple of times and sniffed at the air. He tried to peer into his hood, but Neptarik kept his head down and hoped his earpoints would not twitch the wool.

"At last," grumbled the guard. He scanned their passes before waving them on. "Thought you'd decided to wait till daybreak."

"That was Bascon," whispered Neptarik, as if his human companions had not recognized the scout. "He suspects something."

"The lad had sense enough to keep his mouth shut," growled Balnus. "What in Ranva's name is he doing down this end anyway? He should be snuggled up with his wives."

"Just keep walking," added Kelanus. "There might be more scouts about. Unless you told them everything, Neptarik?"

The sylph shook his head inside his cowl. "I follow orders."

They walked in silence for a few paces.

"There's the hillock." Neptarik pointed.

"Kill the pace!" hissed Kelanus. "They'll get suspicious if we start running now. At least Bascon can still see us."

The sylph immediately slowed. They continued on slowly, following the paved road until they reached the hillock, when they headed up it.

"Hold."

The voice was steady, if a trifle higher pitched than expected.

Kelanus stepped forward. "I am Kelanus and my companions are Balnus and his sylph, Neptarik. You must be Tahena."

"And I have three horses." She turned to Neptarik. "Sandev says you are fearless, boy. Can you ride a horse with your master?"

Neptarik stared at Tahena with a touch of awe. He said nothing, but nodded.

"Then we ride," said Tahena. "We must put a few milas between Marka and ourselves before we dare rest."

"Why don't you just magick us further away?" demanded Balnus.

Tahena frowned, her slanted eyes glinting in the starlight. "My talents lie in other directions," she replied. "You will learn some of my skills soon enough; others I hope you never have a need for. Do we ride tonight, or will the City Guard find us here at dawn?"

Balnus vaulted into his horse's saddle and offered a hand to help Neptarik up, as the sylph had never ridden before. Kelanus mounted his steed more sedately.

"Take us south, Tahena," he commanded.

***

Lance Captain Kestan surveyed the field beyond his tent and masked a sigh. An infertile hovered at the edge of his peripheral vision. One of the wild sylphs, she seemed eager to fetch and carry for him, clean his boots and keep his tent tidy. But she refused to divulge her name. If she had one at all; no matter how benign, sylphs tended to neglect infertiles and he didn't know the wild sylphs' customs when it came to naming them.

The task of naming domestic infertile offspring usually fell to humans, ignored by the sylph's parents. One reason why the bond between human owner and owned infertile tended to be so strong. It would not surprise him if wild sylphs were the same, unless they had private names they shared among themselves. It made no sense for them to live their lives unnamed, as they were the most numerous of the three sexes. Except among these sylphs, thanks to the slavers preferring to capture breeders.

The wild sylphs were up and either eating breakfast or busying themselves. The sun was yet to be seen this morning, but pink tinged the upper hills and the top of the black pyramid that dwarfed the city.

"Good morning."

Kestan smiled and nodded to those passing his tent. They pulled their weight and took on their fair share of chores, yet their continued presence troubled him. They were still to make any move to find a new home and he suspected that they never would.

"Hello, Aelfina."

The oldest of the wild sylphs, smiled at Kestan and glanced at the small infertile. She disappeared inside the tent.

"I believe congratulations are called for," continued Kestan.

Aelfina smiled, but did not respond.

There were few adults among the wild sylphs, but the males had elected Aelfina as their leader. The females had chosen out their own eldest, Damaran. She and Aelfina had wandered away from the rest on the third night of their freedom. Both returned soaking wet to the cheers of the others.

Neither humans nor the enslaved sylphs had any idea of what had happened, but the two leaders now acted like husband and wife. In some things, Damaran was still in charge; in others Aelfina took the lead.

In itself, that did not bother Kestan.

But everything else going on with those sylphs worried him.

Many of the wild ones wandered to Kestan, or any other human who had helped release them from their captivity, and offered to help, or asked questions, or even watched everything they did. They were still shy of all other humans, but they had considerably eased their stance towards the enslaved sylphs.

"You've not volunteered to become a scout?"

"Too many new faces will swamp the teachers," said Aelfina. "They have our best."

"The female scouts shocked them more than your numbers might swamp them." Kestan smiled.

"Each must do what each can do best for the tribe," replied Aelfina. "Your sylph scouts are impressive, we can learn much from them. And they from us."

It was the "they from us" that caused no little concern among those who owned sylphs. "I thought Ean might have a fit when he saw half of yours were girls."

Aelfina smiled, though he obviously did not understand.

Kestan changed the subject. "I also want to thank you."

The sylph raised his eyebrows and his earpoints slanted forwards.

"For giving your gratitude to those sylphs who helped free you."

"We would have done that sooner, only we were shy of them."

Kestan thought he understood why. The wild sylphs were wary of and possibly feared humans, but they often looked at collared sylphs as if the unfortunates had sprouted a second head. It had taken days for that fear to dissipate. It wasn't the sylphs that frightened them, but the collars.

"Even so, the thanks were deeply appreciated."

Aelfina made a casual gesture with a hand. "Their due."

"And we are grateful for your help."

"Our help?"

"Don't be so modest." Kestan smiled.

Again, that casual gesture with a hand.

"We all know you collect more food than any other group." He lowered his voice and leaned forward. "And thank you for the fish." He had dined on fish more often in the past week than he usually managed in a year. Fish caught by the wild sylphs were for their own consumption only – and for their liberators.

Aelfina's earpoints twitched in pleasure.

Kestan had grown up with the implicit belief that no sylph could survive without human guidance. Every sylph he had known before the wild ones believed it without question. The simple compact between the two races had always been service for security. Since meeting _these_ sylphs, he had modified his belief somewhat.

All the wild sylphs were perfectly capable of survival without interference. But the infertiles obviously felt something was missing from their lives, and watched their counterparts among the civilized sylphs with envious eyes. Kestan held his silence on the subject, for there were already enough rows over the differences.

The rows were between the two groups of sylphs. The wild ones wasted no time pointing out the advantages of freedom to their enslaved cousins. Some of the civilized sylphs listened politely and went away to think the argument over. Others stated their own case with equal force, with inevitable squabbles over the merits of freedom versus security.

This was the "they from us" bothering so many who owned sylphs. They would be displeased if the wild sylphs' views began to take root among the scouts and sylph nurses.

And that was just among Marcus's army.

The arguments would eventually reach sylphs in Marka, if they had not already. Wild sylphs entered the city daily, even if they rarely stayed long.

The sound of an alarm bell, quickly muffled, reached his ears and he looked around.

"Where's that coming from?" he wondered, aloud.

"The city," replied Aelfina. He glimpsed Damaran, made his excuses and crossed to her.

"Something is happening in the city," said a scout, who now joined Kestan.

"Any idea what, Ean?"

The sylph shrugged. "The gates opened early," he replied, "and some of the City Guard came out. I know no more than that."

Kestan focused properly on the young scout and realized he was fully painted. "Already your turn for the field?"

Ean grinned and shook his head. "I help train some of your sylphs."

"I see." Kestan could barely keep the growl from his voice. He did not really like the rescued sylphs being referred to as his. "How are they doing?"

Ean's earpoints twitched. "They are eager to learn."

Kestan relaxed. "They've told me. It is good to learn new things. How are the lady sylphs coming along?"

The scout gave a long deliberate blink and shrugged.

Kestan smiled. "I think they will do well," he said.

Ean nodded, but his silvery gray eyes regarded Kestan solemnly. The soldier suspected that the sylph knew something that he did not.

"What are you not telling me, Ean- _y_ -Felis?"

"Something it is not my place to tell, _donenya_." The scout excused himself and trotted away.

***

Captain Crallin never lost his temper, but he had come close this morning. He and his secretary sat together for their usual informal morning discussion. Both men sipped alovak while settling into the two comfortable chairs Crallin kept in his office. Secretary Oston, a short, powerfully built man, had served in the Guard with Crallin, and they had often stood watches together. Not in awe of his boss, Oston would speak his mind. A good thing that ensured Crallin heard everything he needed, instead of what his secretary thought he might like to hear.

Oston glanced quickly at his neatly written notes.

"The good news is that crime continues to fall," he said. He shook his head. "I've no idea why, but assaults and killings are down, and even petty theft has fallen."

"Partly due to all the soldiers now walking the streets, or because our resident criminals believe Marka is about to gain an Emperor." Crallin sniffed. "The same thing happens when we get a new Supreme Councilor. Sadly, only temporary."

Oston passed no comment about that. "The bad news is that the men holed up in the Guildsman appear to be doing nothing. They are probably responsible for half the rumors floating around the city – all the bad ones, anyway – but they seem to be waiting for something."

"And this man Gestlin?" Crallin's voice was quiet. "Any progress there?"

Oston's mouth thinned to a tight line. He liked failure about as much as Crallin did. "Nothing; it's as if the man is mist. A shame he did not let these men into the city using one of the main gates."

"Probably not foolish enough." Crallin changed the subject again. "What of the bandits roaming outside the walls?"

"We've increased our patrols and they kill all those they find. Marcus Vintner has helpfully provided extra men and even sylph scouts to help hunt them down."

Crallin's turn to thin his mouth. Today, the name Marcus Vintner did not rank on his list of favorites. It raised the issue of the most embarrassing thing to happen to the City Guard in years.

Oston waited patiently.

"Which guard let Kelanus leave the city?"

A small smile ghosted across the secretary's lips and not because of the shame of losing a prisoner. "Guardsman Maric."

"Assign him to lesser duties." If Crallin recalled Maric correctly, the man was arrogant and a bit of a bully. "Slopping out prison pails may teach him humility."

"Three, um, religious wanderers left the South Gate during his watch. The search of the city has not given us Kelanus, so we must assume that he and his rescuers are those who left."

"The roll call?"

Oston smiled. "Is happening as we speak. We'll soon discover which of Marcus Vintner's men helped Kelanus to escape. As for recapture, may I –"

"How did they get passes to leave the city?" interrupted Crallin.

"Marcus Vintner probably. Or one of his senior men. We need to –"

"How did he manage to forge my signature?" Crallin knew he was stalling.

Oston spread his hands. "How many of the men would recognize your signature anyway?"

"Good point."

A longer pause. Where could Kelanus go? Where might the man hide?

"I can have Sallis ti Ath here in less than an hour," continued the secretary. "I know where he has lodgings."

Crallin steepled his fingers. The subject he had tried to avoid, now mentioned. One of the Gifted, yet even Sandev shied away from Sallis ti Ath. He'd never known exactly what the man's gifts were, but did know that he was a superb bounty hunter. A decent man, perhaps too decent, but cold with it. He respected a good opponent, and had never failed. He would kill in cold blood if he must, but never harmed the innocent. But still ruthless. Crallin knew he could trust him to return Kelanus, even if he must travel to the ends of the earth.

"You know I do not approve of bounty hunters," he said, eventually. "Too many get the wrong man because they chase bounties rather than criminals."

"You know Sallis ti Ath is not one of those." Oston's dark eyes glittered. "If Kelanus has left Marka, only a bounty hunter can return him for trial."

Crallin sighed. He could prevaricate no more.

"All I need is for you to give the word." Oston stared expectantly at his commander.

Crallin reached a decision. "All right," he said. "Bring him to me."

***

"Ayes one hundred and forty-six; nays eighty-six."

Lanas Exen, Leader of the Senate, stared around the hall and shook his head.

A cheer met the results of the vote. The Senate had quite comprehensively decided to deny both contenders for the vacant Throne any right to it and effectively rejected Marcus Vintner's claim. Convinced that he had tried to gain advantage from his rival's death, but nobody quite accused him of responsibility for the murder.

"One does not need to be responsible for a situation to profit from it," Senator Cleran had said during the debate. As a supporter of Enthan of the Imperial Republic, he seemed unaware of doing precisely that right now. His preferred candidate had not even been invited to Marka.

"We can no longer trust the unsupported word of Marcus Vintner. Hearsay and rumor is not evidence of innocence," came from another Senator.

"A man who helps a suspected criminal to escape is unfit for high office," said yet another.

From the numbers, Lanas surmised supporters of the dead Branad Vintner had joined the Enthan and Hingast factions to push the vote through. Those supporting Marcus stayed together, but they could not stand against all the other factions.

He had no idea what Hingast's supporters hoped to gain; the Supreme Council would rather the Throne be ended for ever before they offered it to him.

The Supreme Council must now reconsider to whom they offered the Throne, and since recognition, offer it they must. They needed an Emperor, or the Throne would again fall into abeyance. Lanas realized he faced something of a political crisis and he hoped an escape route could be found. Senate leaders had fallen for less than this.

He looked up from the voting sheet and firmed his voice. "From the resolution proposed this afternoon, that neither branch of the Vintner family should be considered for election to the vacant Throne of Marka, I now announce that the resolution is carried by a majority vote."

The Senate Leader waited for renewed cheers to subside. He passed the result to the Supreme Council's messenger, so they could make fresh recommendations. He knew the Supreme Council could reject the vote, but such stand offs between Council and Senate were rare. One had precipitated the collapse of the Second Empire.

Noise filled the Senate. They had concluded their business for today and they remained only until they heard the Supreme Council's reaction, which might take an hour or more. Though Senators were free to leave, not one did, for this had been a vote of some importance.

However, the reaction came quickly; within minutes, the messenger returned.

Lanas scanned the Supreme Council's reply. He sighed and sat back in his seat. Silence fell.

"Senators," he said, quietly, "the Supreme Council has agreed to reconsider their recommendation."

The cheer that echoed around the hall drowned out those who shouted in denial. Lanas wondered what the Supreme Council had up its sleeve. They never gave in this easily.

***

Sallis ti Ath savored the alovak's aroma before sipping at the black liquid. He avoided alcohol whenever possible, but alovak was one of the few pleasures he allowed himself. Alcohol fuddled the brain and slowed reactions, which could prove fatal if any of his numerous enemies managed to catch up with him today _and_ have the courage to take him on. Enemies had a habit of enlivening some days at the most surprising moments.

He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the pyramid. He could not understand why Marka's builders had not incorporated it into at least part of the city walls. The pyramid's polished black material could not be climbed and no tool would mar its smooth surface. Nobody knew why the pyramid existed at all and only speculate about the reason for the huge red light crystal at its highest point. Some said gods, perhaps even the Father himself, had built the pyramid.

Sallis doubted that.

He relaxed a little more, though he remained watchful of both the other customers and the people bustling along the street. The man three tables down, for example, whose armor and surcoat showed he belonged to the Vintner army. Few in the city yet realized the purple linings of his cloak marked him as part of Marcus's elite guard.

Sallis frowned at the cup opposite and looked down the street again. He expected company; there would be work for him very soon. He caught sight of a short, stocky man hurrying down the street and smiled to himself. At first glance, the casual observer could be forgiven for thinking the short man to be fat, but closer inspection would reveal broad shoulders and a powerful physique. If Oston ever punched someone, Sallis felt certain death would follow.

Oston saw Sallis and crossed to him.

"Good afternoon." The two men shook hands as Sallis stood briefly. The serving girl appeared silently with the alovak can.

"Thank you." Oston nodded to the girl as she filled his cup and breathed in the aroma. "Ranva's breath! I needed that."

Sallis winced at the casual use of the Father's name. That wince alone marked him as one of the Gifted, as all those who used the Gift almost never called the Father by name.

"We have a problem," said Oston, casually. "And we have use for your skills."

Sallis ti Ath came from Re Annan, one of the islands that lay east of the mainland. An island that had never been conquered or colonized by Marka, though Markan seafarers were well aware of his old home's existence. One of Sandev's old students had healed Sallis when he was still very small, recognized the youngster was Gifted, introduced himself as Elvallon and persuaded his parents to let him train the boy.

"Something to do with an escaped General who cannot be found in the city?" Sallis kept his voice low. "I know he can't be found; I've looked."

Oston glanced at the soldier a few tables along. "He left the city during the night with two companions. On foot."

The Gift had been slow to manifest itself and Sallis doubted his ability. Elvallon had more determination and, slowly at first, but with gathering pace, dragged the power from within him and set it free. Something many had cause to regret ever since.

Most of the Gifted had several skills, always within certain areas. Many could project themselves either ethereally or even physically. Others could heal injuries, influence people to their will, draw on impossible strength and there were even some who could shapeshift into any creature they wanted. The best could shapeshift even into creatures that did not exist. There were other skills as well.

But Sallis ti Ath had to be different.

He could influence people, but only in the way any ordinary person could bend others to their will. Though considerably better at it than most, it had nothing to do with the Gift. Sallis and his former teacher were certain of that.

His skill was different, very different. Once he had the scent of a person, he could see where they had been and follow their trail. Not by smell – he only needed to touch something they had owned to trigger the skill – but by _something_ in the back of his head that showed him the way they had traveled. This skill, known to only a few in the City Guard, had served Marka well for more than twenty years.

Sallis ti Ath sipped at his alovak. "You want me to bring him back."

Oston leaned forward. "We want you to bring him back alive," he whispered. "He's not been found guilty."

If that skill had been the only oddity, he knew Elvallon would have continued his training, instead of reacting in fear to him. There were more differences.

His ability to slow time terrified his tutor. Not that he slowed it down of course, only that he could move faster within it. A tiring skill, if useful in fights, whether with weapons or fists. He only wished that he could manipulate time for longer periods. And it only worked for him. If he chased a malefactor with a good lead, Sallis could not make time slow for both him and his horse. A great pity and a terrible limitation. Even now, he tried to manipulate time for himself and his horse, but failed every time. But persistence might pay off eventually.

His teacher knew of only one other with this skill: one of the Ten.

But manipulating time was not why Elvallon decided he would no longer teach him.

"More alovak, good sirs?" The serving girl smiled as she proffered the alovak can.

Sallis ti Ath nodded. Both men savored the aroma before drinking.

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.

Elvallon dropped him the very next day. He was only eleven years old.

Sallis came to Marka aged fifteen, following his father's suggestion that his talents would be put to good use catching criminals. He had lived here ever since, except for short visits home.

"My warrant?"

Oston drained his alovak and called for the bill. "Captain's writing it now. I suggest you come with me."

"Very well." Sallis watched as Oston counted out the coins to pay for the alovak. "You immediately thought of me, so I have a favor to return. Men from the Guildsman are spreading most of the rumors on the streets. Dangerous men, led by one named Marlen, who once studied under Sandev."

"We're aware of them."

"And there is a traitor in your ranks, who allowed these men into the city. His real name is Gestlin, but I suggest you never let Guardsman Ellec Wayre Zennon work alone again. And if anyone dies as a result of the men he let into this city, he dies too. All right?" Sallis smiled. "Shall we go?"

As Oston and Sallis left, Guard Commander Mansard watched them, wondering why the taller man caused him such unease.

***

"I am part way through the seventh volume of the Legal History."

Zenepha stared at Sandev and his earpoints twitched backwards in nervousness. His voice echoed around the banqueting hall, though he and the three humans ate in one corner of it. Olista's two wives were eating at some ladies' get-together in the city, which reduced this small gathering still further.

He was grateful for that.

Zenepha never knew how a meal shared with Sandev and her bodyguard might turn out. That he shared food with free humans caused enough worry. The sylph glanced around the table. His master seemed subdued. He had returned from the Supreme Council quite obviously in a bad temper, but had let none of it out. Zenepha knew his owner hid something, but had no idea what.

Sandev always had a secretive air and Stanak never said much, if anything, while eating. He played the affable guest here, but Zenepha recognized a dangerous man when he saw one. This human was capable of extreme violence and the sylph hoped the man kept it under tight control. He trusted this man only because Sandev employed him. Whatever reservations Zenepha had about Sandev and her interest in him, he knew she stood for good. His silvery gray eyes regarded her, waiting for the next question, or her reaction to his answer.

"You are slower with this than with _History of the Markan Empire_." Sandev's sapphire-blue eyes twinkled.

"I am sorry, Sandev- _ya_ ," apologized Zenepha. "It is harder work and the events of the past couple of days have been exciting."

Sandev laughed. "History being made, Zenepha. All around us at this very moment, history is being made. Tomorrow new precedents may be set. Who knows?"

She exchanged a look with Olista.

Zenepha noticed it immediately.

"It's annoying," intoned Olista, "that they rejected Marcus Vintner's claim. Not just disgruntled Branad-cum-Verdin supporters who turned _that_ one today."

"True," agreed Sandev, "but not entirely unexpected."

Olista nodded. "Something to say, Zenepha?"

The sylph's earpoints twitched wildly. "What will happen now? Put forward more claimants to the Throne?"

Olista and Sandev glanced at each other again. Zenepha looked at Stanak, pleased to see that he, at least, appeared equally in the dark.

"Something like that, yes." Olista answered the sylph's question.

"I am missing something here," complained the sylph.

"Join the party," muttered Stanak, before taking a careful swallow of wine.

Olista arched an eyebrow at Sandev, who shrugged.

"He must be told sooner or later," she said. "If the shock's going to kill him, best get it over with."

"Told what?" demanded Stanak.

"What shock?" Zenepha echoed the sentiment.

"The reason why we bought him in the first place," Olista explained to Stanak, before turning to the sylph. "You are aware that Sandev possesses some power."

Zenepha nodded.

"I can see some future events," continued Sandev, carefully. "I Saw that when the Vintners came here, turmoil could engulf Marka as a result. I Saw that the claims might be rejected."

"You... Saw... this?" Zenepha distinctly heard the capital S.

Sandev nodded and smiled. "I knew that to survive what's coming to this city, she must have an Emperor, that the Throne must be recognized. But I also Saw that the Vintners would bring problems with them, problems that might not be overcome in time. So it has come to pass."

"Indeed." Olista nodded.

The sylph still looked confused.

"Someone must take the Throne and unite all the factions." Olista sighed. "Someone to act as a caretaker Emperor until a solution to the mess we're in is found."

"Which is where you come in, Zenepha," smiled Sandev.

"Me?" The sylph noticed realization dawning on Stanak, but he was still confused.

"Yes, you." Sandev's smile spread wider. "Your owner quite deliberately sought the most intelligent sylph he could find. You have been trained – and trained hard – for this most important task."

"Task?" Zenepha felt the first stirrings of real fear and his earpoints lay back in his hair.

Sandev looked at Olista.

The sylph's owner cleared his throat. "Zenepha, you are to be the next Emperor of Marka."

***
**Chapter 8**

Running

"I think we're safe now. At least for a few hours."

Tahena looked over her shoulder at Kelanus and finally nodded. Her dark hair lashed in the wind, slanted eyes expressionless. Her features softened when she saw Neptarik asleep on the third horse, his head resting against Balnus's chest. So much for sylphs being frightened of horses.

"Those trees will do very well," continued Kelanus, nodding uphill.

"We must move before the sun reaches its meridian," cautioned Tahena. "Or shortly after." She glanced behind, in the direction of Marka. As Kelanus and Balnus urged their horses towards the trees, the southlander woman closed her eyes and muttered under her breath before following her companions.

Neptarik came awake, shivered and rubbed his arms. "She is using the Gift," he said darkly, turning to stare at Tahena.

"How do you know?" demanded the sylph's owner.

"Belaika told me all sylphs know when it is used."

"How does _he_ know?"

"He got told."

Balnus decided not to press the issue.

The sylph turned to Kelanus. "I am rested, _donenya_. I will keep watch while you sleep."

Kelanus nodded to accept Neptarik's offer, pulled a blanket free from one of his saddlebags and wrapped himself in it. Balnus followed the General's lead and in moments, both men dozed off.

Neptarik glanced at Tahena, his earpoints twitching backwards warily. "Will you not sleep, Tahena- _ya_? I will give warning if needed."

"Of course you will, Neptarik- _y_ -Balnus. But I don't need as much sleep as other humans."

The sylph blinked, but he remained on edge, silvery gray eyes watching Tahena as she looked back towards Marka. Again.

"Why do you always look behind us?" asked the sylph, while his eyes scanned the horizon. Kelanus had chosen a good place to stop, with excellent all-round views. "There is nobody out there, bar a scout or ten."

Tahena smiled at the sylph. "I thought you were going to keep watch," she retorted.

" _Se bata._ " Neptarik took the hint and walked away, collecting an empty quiver from his master's horse.

Quickly out of sight, Tahena marveled how easily he blended in with the background, despite blue skin.

"The boy is right." Kelanus's bass rumble caused Tahena to start. "You _are_ worried about whoever or whatever is behind us. Do you think the City Guard will follow us for any length of time?"

"I thought you were asleep."

"I'm too excited for that. At last, I might have a chance of revenging myself on Ranallic. The possibilities are thrilling. And you haven't answered my question."

"No," replied Tahena, as she wrapped herself in her own blanket. "I haven't."

***

In between keeping his eyes and ears open for anything out of place, Neptarik foraged for edibles. He stayed close to the wooded knoll, far enough away to be out of the humans' sight. Even as he filled the quiver, his head kept questing. He hummed quietly and ate some foragings himself. Like Tahena, he concentrated his efforts north, towards Marka. Any pursuit would come from there. But he also paid attention to all other directions; they were still within Marka's administrative district (which he knew was called a Metropa, not a Prefecture), so pursuit might come from anywhere.

Within the next two days, they would pass into Outer Marka, where patrols of the City Guard were scarce. They risked being seen, though he and his companions intended to avoid everybody until well away from Marka. He had heard no whistles from the scouts dotted around Marka, but this did not mean none were in their path.

Of course, he could send a pinger – a short identifying whistle – to learn if any scouts were about and they would soon tell him whether or not his small group had any pursuers. But Marcus- _ya_ had insisted that Balnus and Neptarik were to disappear and leave no traces. Not even for other scouts.

But those other scouts might still spot them and not even Neptarik would know until he heard the sighting reports whistled back to Marka.

He pushed another leaf into his mouth and chewed slowly, peering north again. Still nobody there. He decided that if something frightened one of the Gifted, he would be wise to heed that fear.

If they only had to avoid the City Guard and sylph scouts, life would be simple. But bands of lawless men roamed the countryside at will: plundering, murdering and looting their way through life. Neptarik had heard Marcus say that these men were controlled by an outside agency, such as Hingast, to bring additional terror and misery to the inhabitants of Marka's farms. Damage to agriculture led to price rises and threatened starvation.

He felt strangely out of place in the field without skin paint, naked without his camouflage. He wore green and brown traveling woolens, which helped to hide him, but he half wished he had painted up before leaving Marka. Of course, doing so would have aroused suspicion among his brother scouts, and he knew he had no time to prepare the paint now. Every scout had his own variation of the color scheme, and Neptarik needed another sylph to paint him properly.

He looked back to the wooded knoll, pleased to see nobody stirring. A quick glance at the sun showed him that the humans had a little time left to sleep. He could sleep on horseback.

Neptarik returned to the knoll, keeping alert as he went. He hoped the nearly-full quiver held enough for his companions. He had sated his own appetite while foraging, now content to wait until the evening meal. Perhaps after his recent efforts, the rare treat of choca might be granted.

Tahena was already awake when he returned to the small camp. The sylph dropped the quiver upright onto the ground, muttered "Food" under his breath and stalked to the northern end of the knoll, eyes and ears still questing for anything out of place.

"It's all right, Neptarik," called Balnus. "Come and sit down; we're quite alone."

The sylph returned and crouched on his heels while the humans ate their meal, all three thanking him for taking the effort to forage.

"We'd best not wait long," commented Tahena. "We should push on and get a few more milas between us and Marka."

"I'll feel happier when the Metropa is behind us," rumbled Kelanus. "We're less likely to be pursued then."

Neptarik sensed that Tahena did not agree, but she said nothing and concentrated on eating her meal. The moment she finished eating, she began to ready her horse. Balnus and Kelanus were not far behind her and soon Neptarik again accepted his master's hand and scrambled up the side of the horse to sit before him.

"Time to bear east," suggested Tahena. "Get another range of hills behind us."

Kelanus nodded. "But not for too long," he replied, "or we'll be headed for Calcan."

Tahena smiled. "That's what we want people to think."

***

"We'll follow the road all night if need be," said Tahena.

"Foolishness," countered Kelanus. "We've got milas on any pursuit. The dark is dangerous; we might fall into an ambush, or startle honest folk, or the horses might stumble."

"The horses will be fine," insisted Tahena. "I'll see to that."

"How will we see where we are going in the dark?" demanded Kelanus.

"We'll tie the horses together and Neptarik will lead. Sylphs can see in the dark. Enough for us."

The scout struggled upright. "I can do that," he agreed, nodding vigorously. "And I have had more sleep than usual."

"But what's the point?" demanded Kelanus. "Pursuits take time to organize, and I should know. Gathering enough men in the right place with the right equipment. It's not easy. And then they've got to find out which way we've gone."

Tahena sniffed. "I don't think you understand. There are people with special skills – with the Gift – who are capable of tracking us. We must press on as long as possible."

"People with the Gift?" Kelanus blinked. "I thought Sandev controlled people with the Gift. Hasn't she ensured they know about us? Aren't they supposed to be on the same side?"

Tahena threw her head back and laughed. "If we all knew everything that was going on, we wouldn't have time to _do_ anything. Why should Sandev tell all with the Gift everything that she has planned? Why would those of us with nothing to do with this need to know about you? If my plans took me another way, I wouldn't know about you."

"I get the impression that you rather wouldn't know me." Kelanus looked disappointed. Balnus tried to appear unconcerned and Neptarik listened while trying to pretend otherwise.

Tahena sighed. "It's not that," she replied. "I just wish you'd listen to good advice."

Kelanus threw up one of his hands in surrender. "All right, have it your own way. Just don't grumble if any of the horses go lame."

Tahena slipped from her horse and put her hands on each animal's neck in turn. Neptarik went wide-eyed and shuddered, before sliding off Balnus's mount and picking his way to the front of the small group.

"I'm ready," he said, simply.

Tahena smiled. "That's what I admire about sylphs. Always ready."

As dusk deepened to darkness, they plodded on.

Kelanus and Balnus talked in low voices as they rode, one horse before the other. Tahena listened in. They weren't talking about her, but what might happen to Balnus and Neptarik when they returned.

"I'd hate to think you might be run out of the army because of me," Kelanus said. "If this turns into a chase to nothing."

"That's all right, Sir," replied Balnus. "I volunteered for this, as did Neptarik. The Boss gave us assurances."

"Which I am certain will be kept. But there's a little phrase not much used by soldiers, and that's political expediency."

"Looking after Number One you mean, Sir," translated Balnus, cheerfully.

Tahena almost succeeded in restraining her laugh.

Neptarik looked over his shoulder, but said nothing.

Kelanus joined in the laughter. "One of the major faults of officers, particularly senior officers, is that they sometimes underestimate the knowledge of their underlings."

Balnus inclined his head. "Despite political expediency, I've served The Boss long enough to know he's a man of honor and will keep his word. If we fail in this mission, we're all finished anyway."

"That's probably true," muttered the General.

"If Marcus is not already finished," put in Tahena. "He took a huge risk when he agreed to help with your release. The Senate and Supreme Council will not be very impressed. I suspect the claims will be over if Marcus is blamed for your escape. They were bad enough after Branad's murder. There are still those who believe Marcus is responsible for that, too."

"Some people will believe any rubbish," grunted Kelanus.

"Some people don't know what to believe," added Balnus.

"Road turns to the right," interrupted Neptarik. He hummed the opening lines from 'Foolish Human Owners' to show his opinion of the conversation.

"Something to say, Neptarik?" Kelanus's voice had a definite edge.

"You say these are dangerous lands, _donenya_ ," replied the sylph, "yet you all make much noise."

Tahena stared at the sylph. "Do you always put up with this?"

Neptarik's owner laughed. "We encourage it," he said. "The scouts must feel safe to tell the truth."

Ignoring the sylph's insubordination, the three humans carefully eased their horses around the bend.

"We'll stop soon," promised Tahena.

"Why not here?" suggested the scout, close enough for the humans to see a faint glow from his silvery gray eyes. "It is a good place for a camp. A firepit over there. Water, too."

"No fires," said Tahena, quickly.

"There's no pursuit for milas," sighed Kelanus.

Tahena ignored the men, closed her eyes and concentrated. Again, Neptarik's eyes widened and he moved away from the human woman, his agitation noticed only by Balnus.

"What's wrong?" the human asked his sylph.

"She is using her Gift again," Neptarik whispered back. "I do not like it."

"What are you up to, Tahena?" asked Balnus.

Tahena opened her eyes. "Trying to disguise our trail," she replied, candidly. "To throw off anyone following us."

Balnus blinked.

"What's the matter? Didn't you expect me to answer truthfully? I've nothing to hide, Soldier Balnus. I have my secrets, as do we all, but nothing to hide."

"Are people going to sleep?" asked Kelanus. "I'll keep the first watch. No, Neptarik, you kept watch earlier today. Get some sleep."

" _Se bata_."

***

Tahena moved silently and almost startled Kelanus as she settled down beside him.

"Why aren't you asleep?" grunted the General.

Tahena smiled. "Why aren't you moving around? Neptarik moves about and I'm certain nothing misses his attention. What an excellent watchman."

"He's a scout; that's his job. Besides, sylphs have itchy feet and overactive worms."

Tahena arched an eyebrow. "Is that a joke?"

Kelanus sniffed. "I'm sure we're safe here but if I hear anything to give me cause for alarm, I'll begin moving about. Unless, of course, you distract me by gabbing."

"There is nobody for at least five milas in any direction. I have checked."

Kelanus grunted. "By using the Gift."

Tahena shrugged. "A tool to be used like any other. I have set spells to warn us of any approach, friendly or otherwise."

"So I may as well get some sleep. Especially as you do not seem to need any."

"I need sleep the same as everybody else. Only not quite as much of it. I'd rather you kept your watches; I might not be the only one with the Gift or sorcery about tonight. I also want to find out more about you."

"About me?"

Tahena stared into the velvet night and at the stars, pleased to note the lack of moon. It would make traveling for others less easy. "I'd like to know what sort of man manages to get Sandev on his side without her really knowing anything about him. A man about whom I hear lots of frightening stories."

"Such as?" A dangerous note crept into Kelanus's voice.

"On one hand I hear tales of a commander gifted in the art of war, a brilliant tactician who turned Marcus Vintner's military fortunes around. After all, the man you follow is more politician than warrior."

"And on the other?"

"A man possibly responsible for the murder of Branad Vintner, because he dismissed you from your previous post. A man accused of murdering other people's sylphs. After mutilating them for fun. Many tales take wing on the streets."

Kelanus looked away. "Which do you believe?"

"I doubt if Sandev would support a man who murders sylphs as a hobby and claimants to the Throne if they get in the way. I also find it strange that a man so obviously principled as Marcus Vintner would be prepared to let such a criminal lead his army, no matter how good a general. The presence of Neptarik, who so clearly respects you, sways me to think most of the negative stories must be rubbish. But I'd like to know how Branad decided to believe the stories about you and the sylphs. After all, it is a fact that he dismissed you."

Kelanus sniffed, fighting anger. "You haven't answered my question."

"When I've made my mind up. Who persuaded Branad to dismiss you?"

Kelanus looked away. "They managed to find two sylphs who swore on oath that I assaulted them. There _was_ a spree of murders among sylphs – all males – that lasted seven years. And suddenly they found two that the murderer decided not to kill. They must have believed what they said; it's easy to tell when a sylph lies, because of the earpoints. That they were obviously not lying was enough for most people to believe their stories. But they weren't quite so prepared to face me at a trial, so there wasn't really a case to answer. Ranallic recommended that I be dismissed."

"Do you remember the names of your accusers?"

"I never knew them to forget them."

"Why didn't you resign from your post? You waited to be dismissed."

"I wasn't given the opportunity. That nobody was prepared to testify against me helped mollify some opinions, but it didn't save me from the boot. And resigning looks so much like running away."

"You're still bitter?"

"Of course. Which is why people believe that I'm responsible for Branad's murder. My revenge, is how they see it."

Tahena nodded in the darkness and shifted her position. "Some in Marka say you waited until Branad had renounced his claim to ensure that blame stayed away from Marcus Vintner. Others that you acted under Marcus Vintner's orders, given some time ago, and you waited only for the opportunity to carry out those orders."

"There are plenty of people he could use to assassinate Branad, had he wished. So why use me? Though I believe Marcus is quite capable of using murder should he feel it's necessary, he would employ it only as a last resort. Branad had renounced his claim and if Marcus ordered a killing, he had plenty of time to rescind his order."

"Did the sylph murders end after you left Branad's service?"

"I didn't wait around to find out. Too many people are willing to bring harm to those who do what I was accused of. Just on hearsay."

"Do you hate Ranallic because he advised Branad to dismiss you?"

Kelanus shook his head. "No. I hate Ranallic because he somehow banged the blame onto me. Exactly as he has done now. Because he stood to gain most by having me out of the way then and now. Worse than that, because of those vile, vile accusations, I lost my family."

"Lost them?"

"My wife and children disowned me. My sons repudiated my name and changed their own. All thanks to Ranallic."

"Well," said Tahena, "you have given me much to consider. I apologize if I've brought bad memories to the surface. I'll go and get some sleep."

"You haven't answered my question."

"I have not yet made up my mind." Tahena paused. "Good night, General Kelanus."

"Good night, Mistress Tahena." Kelanus spent the rest of his watch with his head in his hands.

***

Balnus almost jumped when Tahena appeared silently out of the darkness and sat beside him. He bared six incas or so of his sword before recognizing her and slammed the blade home.

"I'm sorry," Tahena apologized. "Did I startle you?"

"I might have hurt you." Balnus grunted. "Thought it was only me awake. It's the middle of the night, why aren't you asleep?"

Tahena knew Balnus had little chance of harming her, unless he moved quicker with that blade than she could with the Gift. "I often rise during the night."

"I'm supposed to be keeping watch; if anyone gets through and murders us all because of the noise we're making..."

"Not much risk of that." She smiled in the darkness, showing her teeth so Balnus knew. Unless he thought she was snarling. "Spells are set to warn us if anyone comes within five milas."

Balnus looked skyward and stared at the line of hills, the boundary between land and sky delineated by starlight. "So I'm wasting my time here."

A soft giggle came from the darkness. "Kelanus said that when I spoke with him earlier." She lowered her voice. "There are many stories about Kelanus, and not all of them good."

"Forget the bad tales. Ignore them all. I've met few finer men, including perhaps Marcus Vintner." Balnus was sharper than intended, but he made no move to apologize.

"Your loyalty commands respect."

"And earned, fair and square," retorted the soldier. "He is a fine officer and a good man. Our gain and Branad's loss."

"You know why he left Branad?"

"It is easy to ruin a man's reputation with accusations that were never proved in court. None of _our_ sylphs have been hurt or disappeared, or been murdered since he joined _us_. That answers any question about him as far as I'm concerned. The sylphs would let us know quick time if anything like that went on."

"You have helped make up my mind about something." Tahena abruptly changed tack. "Neptarik belongs to you?"

"Yes, he's a good sylph. Best scout in the army. But I'm not sure if he likes me or his mother more."

"You own his mother?" Tahena sounded surprised.

Balnus gave a low laugh. "Not me."

"You're proud of him." It was not a question.

"Of course." Balnus laughed again. "Don't gamble against him; he's excellent at cards. He loses as often as the rest of us, but his wins are more spectacular."

"You've taught him to gamble? Corrupted him?"

Balnus's eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "I did not corrupt him. Taught him gambling, yes. But his previous owner is responsible for any corrupting. Before me Neptarik belonged to a thief."

"I see. How did you get him?"

Balnus shook his head. "The magistrates sent him to the scout school as an unowned sylph. I acquired him from there."

"And taught him gambling. Must be hard for him to hide a good hand with those earpoints to waggle about."

"Don't you believe it. He winds a scarf 'round his head. Says he wears it for luck, but he never does when scouting and I've never seen him wear it on the battlefield."

"He takes part in battles?" Tahena's voice squeaked.

Balnus smiled. "No sylph takes _part_ in a battle, but they often carry messages _through_ one. Neptarik was commended in the battle when we defeated Branad; wounded while carrying a message."

"So he is brave." Tahena did not sound impressed; she made "brave" sound like "stupid".

Balnus's smile grew fond. "He loves adventure, but he's not quite as fearless as most people believe. Don't tell him I told you that."

"That's a promise. I know many sylphs often push the boundaries set by their owners and need frequent reminders of their place, if not harsh discipline. Neptarik is no exception?"

Balnus stared, incredulous. "Neptarik is friendly and gets on well with almost everybody he meets. He's very easy-going, very respectful and obedient. He needs no reminders of his place and needs to learn no discipline from me."

Tahena nodded her approval. "Impressive. I'm beginning to feel tired again. See you in the morning, Balnus."

The soldier smiled. "See you later, Tahena."

***

Tahena failed to surprise Neptarik. The sylph instead startled her, almost into squeaking aloud. The east held a hint of blue sky, and even Tahena had enough light to make out shapes. Neptarik detached himself from a shadow, seeming to step out of nothing into reality.

"You will get lost if you are not careful, _donanya_." The sylph's light voice was helpful and his silvery gray eyes glowed faintly in the predawn.

"Just looking for you," replied Tahena, recovering her composure. "You're the only one who keeps wandering about. How _do_ you keep so quiet?"

The sylph inclined his head, but said nothing.

"I just want to talk," continued Tahena.

"I am supposed to keep watch." Neptarik's voice held a hint of reproach.

"My spells will warn me of anyone coming near," Tahena told the sylph.

"I could be punished."

"Ah." Tahena nodded, aware that the sylph could see every expression on her face. "Punished often, are you?"

Neptarik shrugged. "All the time," he replied. "You have no idea how cruel humans can be. The choca rations are terrible. Once a month, if I am lucky."

"I mean physically. Mentally."

The sylph stared. "Waiting for choca is mental torture and the lack must be harmful for body and spirit."

"So you are generally treated very well?" pressed Tahena.

"Apart from too little choca."

"Are you sporting with me?"

Neptarik stared, but said nothing. He blinked deliberately.

Tahena stared. "You're serious! You really are complaining about a lack of choca!"

The sylph inclined his head again and a smile flitted across his features.

"I now see that you scouts are spoiled." She almost laughed aloud.

"You are as cruel as the others."

"Now you _are_ sporting with me." Tahena wagged a finger at the sylph. "Don't deny it, Neptarik- _y_ -Balnus: your ears betray you. Even I can see those now."

Neptarik grinned. "I like you, _donanya_ ," he said. "Though I do not like it when you use your Gift." His earpoints gave several violent twitches.

"It's all right." She gave the sylph what she hoped was a reassuring pat. "I know sylphs are uncomfortable when the Gift is used. Believe me, you'll get familiar with it after a while. Sandev owns a sylph named Caya; she's rarely worried when the Gift is being used."

"She probably stays as far away as possible."

Tahena paused. Now that she came to think of it, Caya usually made herself scarce within seconds when the Gift flowed. "You know, I think you're right there."

The sylph nodded.

"A question for you: have any sylphs disappeared in the past couple of years that you're aware of? Murdered, or run away, or suddenly become depressed or suicidal?"

Neptarik stared, mouth opening and closing. "General Ranallic asked that question, or one very like it."

Tahena tried to ignore the verbal sidestep. "How did you answer him?"

"I told him no."

"Will you tell me any different?"

"Sylphs run away all the time, but most get brought back. Not all owners are nice. Not heard of any being murdered though. Or of any who killed themselves." He shrugged. "It is possible these things have happened, but I do not know. Not among the scouts."

"No runaway scouts?"

"No." The sylph sounded emphatic. "We are punished the same as humans for desertion."

Tahena's mouth thinned. She expected that meant execution, but decided not to ask. Sylphs could be brutally honest at times.

"Thank you anyway. Well, I'm pleased to have found you in a chatty mood. I'll grab some sleep now; I'm feeling tired again. Oh, one more thing. Does a ship sylph without a ship make any sense to you?"

"I do not know what a ship sylph is."

"It doesn't matter. Good night, Neptarik."

She felt the sylph's puzzlement as he watched her walk away. He probably wondered what she really wanted. His perception impressed her. She settled in her blankets again.

***

Tahena feigned sleep and waited for Neptarik to wake the camp. Kelanus had given the sylph instructions to wake them once they had enough light for humans to see, and she guessed that time could not be far off. She analyzed what she had gleaned from her three traveling companions.

She felt certain Kelanus had played no part in the crimes others laid at his feet. The way he carried himself was not that of a murderer or deviant, but of a noble man with high principles and ideals. He had not flown into a rage when she had laid out what she had heard, but countered the allegations with dignity and self-conviction. He not only believed in his innocence, but also that others should believe in it. When she next communicated with Sandev, she would mention that two sylphs had made accusations against Kelanus. Best to find out what had gone on there.

Balnus was a soldier, pure and simple. Down to earth, but thankfully polite while talking to her. Another decent man who favored standing up for what he believed in. He also believed in Kelanus's innocence, another good sign.

And Neptarik, skilled in the art of scouting and recently commended for his courage. And obvious that he adored his master. Very different from other sylphs she knew, carrying himself with considerably more self-assurance than a sylph should possess, his confidence almost bordering on arrogance. Most sylphs griped about a lack of choca, so why would the scouts be any different? Perhaps careful rationing of the delicacy helped keep the scouts healthy. Too much could wreak havoc with sylph digestion.

Tahena snuggled deeper into her blankets, now quite content to do what Sandev had asked of her. A decent man and a good commander led them. She could work with him. She watched Neptarik wander back into the camp.

" _Donulya_ , it is time to wake!" he called, in his clear, high voice. "The sun will soon be up."

***

Tahena checked their backtrail from Marka.

She used only part of her mind, a skill known as mental projection. It used much less energy than physical projection and had always been far safer to use than the rather more common ethereal projection. It needed only a little of the Gift, which would bother Neptarik less; the boy seemed to know when she just thought about using the Gift. She had used mental projection to contact Sandev, still in Marka.

Now Tahena used her mind to probe along the path they had taken from Marka, looking at the ground they had passed. At the same time, she remained fully aware of everything going on in the camp.

Balnus prepared breakfast as she shifted on the uncomfortable ground. Aware the Gift flowed, Neptarik had fled to the far boundary of the camp, for once not pestering his owner for choca.

Tahena knew what – or rather who – to look for and still hoped the City Guard had not sent him. Unlikely; he had been unemployed too long and would relish a chase.

She knew Captain Crallin disliked bounty hunters, claiming they were more interested in bounty than justice, but there were exceptions.

Crallin might hesitate over it, but he often gave work to Sallis ti Ath and the bounty hunter would probably push himself forward. He would never give up.

Hope grew the nearer her search came to their campsite. Everywhere they had rested along the way, every campsite, and their route showed no sign of pursuit. She increased speed, joy turning to elation as she found nothing out of place. Either they hadn't sent him or she had thrown him off the scent.

She reached a place where she had used The Gift to throw their trail in a different direction. An old trick, but often the most effective. Even against him.

Tahena's mind brushed against another and she snatched away from the contact. She prayed that her intrusion stayed undetected. No doubt who she had touched. Deep inside, she'd known they would send him. She sat straighter and eyed the breakfast handed to her by Balnus.

"When we finish eating, we ride," she said.

"What's wrong?" Kelanus looked up from his meal.

Both men stared at Tahena.

"He's on our trail," replied Tahena. "After us." Her dark eyes fixed on Kelanus. "After you."

"Who's after us?" Kelanus glanced at Balnus, who gave a small shrug.

Neptarik wandered back into the camp, sensed the undercurrent and gave all three humans a concerned look.

"He never gives up once he has the trail," she continued. "He once followed someone for a year before bringing him to face justice."

"But who is he?"

"His name is Sallis ti Ath."

"All right. Who's Sallis ti Ath?"

Tahena stared at Kelanus in consternation. "In Marka, mothers use his name to frighten misbehaving children. The authorities turn to him when they need to track someone they can't hunt themselves and he always successfully completes commissions. He's skilled with weapons, among other things."

"Here, you have two men skilled with a sword," smiled Balnus. "We'll be safe from this Sallis ti Ath."

"You don't understand. The Gift flows strongly in him. He can kill using it. You'll not be able to fight him."

"You say he is after us." Kelanus did not ask how Tahena could possibly know, but accepted her word.

The southern woman nodded. "He'll catch us in a week or so, unless we ride hard. Trouble is, he'll realize that our pace is faster and increase his own accordingly. He'll push hard to catch up."

Neptarik heard every word and looked from human to human, his silvery gray eyes wide and earpoints bolt upright. He hummed no tunes now.

Tahena sensed the sylph's fear, even if he refused to show it. She smiled and hoped she looked reassuring. "Sallis ti Ath does not harm the innocent."

Neptarik glanced at his owner and Tahena realized that the sylph did not want Balnus to see his concern.

"Will he use the Gift to catch up?" asked Kelanus.

Tahena laughed. "We're not just conduits for the Gift. It uses an incredible amount of energy and doesn't come from nowhere. He'd die from exhaustion long before reaching us. He won't catch us in the next couple of days, but he'll be stamping on our heels before long."

"Can we beat him to Cadister?" asked Kelanus.

"Perhaps." Tahena held his gaze until he turned his attention to Balnus and Neptarik.

"Let's get breakfast over with and go," he said.

They did not need the extra encouragement of Tahena's nod.

***

Sallis ti Ath watched his fire as he ate breakfast. Steadily gaining on his target, he felt moderately pleased with his progress. After touching the blanket Kelanus had used in his prison cell, he could "see" everywhere the man had been. The niggle in the back of his mind would remain until he finally touched his prey. Now safely tucked away in his saddlebag, Sallis had carefully memorized the warrant for Kelanus's re-arrest. Now well clear of Marka, Sallis could see the trail as clearly as if his quarry had left footprints emblazoned with his name. The nearer he came, the brighter that trail grew.

Someone with the Gift – or perhaps a sorcerer – traveled with Kelanus. His own tracking skills warned him of yet another man _and_ a sylph. Why a sylph should be with them initially confused him. Then he thought of the scouts employed by Marcus Vintner and puzzlement evaporated. He wondered which of them was the sorcerer, or possessed the Gift. After all, sorcery had been used in the murder of Branad Vintner. Perhaps the real killer fled with Kelanus. He would assume sorcerer until shown different.

There had been several clumsy efforts to throw him off the trail. This quarry had ridden along rivers, ridden on parallel paths and even cut across country in a futile attempt to escape. Last night, he had stumbled across an attempt to deceive him that had used either the Gift or sorcery.

He had originally suspected that Kelanus might head for Calcan and the relative safety of Marcus Vintner's lands. The fugitives had wisely angled south to avoid the Key, but their route then turned east. This reinforced his suspicion. Kelanus intended fleeing to Calcan.

Then, a split in the trail. One headed east, the other pointed south. One must be false, yet both burned equally brightly in his mind. But one shimmered slightly more than the other. Experience had taught him to identify false trails. He must go south.

There would be more attempts to throw him. Further false trails – and he knew there would be more – would confirm he still followed the real track.

Sallis ti Ath knew rather less about Kelanus than he liked, but what he did know gave him little confidence to predict the man. He wasn't going home, for Frodger lay in the far north, close to the permanent ice and snow. Neither would he direct a course for part of the late Branad Vintner's empire, now united in name at least with Marcus Vintner's lands.

Kelanus headed south.

A small frown furrowed Sallis's brow. What lay south for a man like Kelanus? The Imperial Republic might welcome a man with Kelanus's skills, or perhaps someone else wanted to carve a new empire for himself. He had not heard of anyone after a general to command an army of conquest, but such vacancies appeared regularly.

But Sallis must capture Kelanus and return him to face trial in Marka. He might even be innocent, but juries determined a man's guilt, not Sallis.

His head came up, all senses questing. Something brushed against the outer edge of his awareness, a momentary touch of minds.

As if someone watched him.

He didn't bother looking around, nobody would be out there. Someone – Gifted or sorcerer he could not tell – had attempted to spy. His prey now knew who hunted him.

Sallis ti Ath tsked. He preferred the element of surprise, and now he must take more care. But the outcome was inevitable. He always caught his quarry.

***

"I don't like it."

Kelanus stared at Tahena in the gathering dusk. They had ridden as hard as they dared all day, with only one short break at noon, more to rest the horses than people. Neptarik had not found a decent campsite, a failure he seemed to blame on himself. Now on the outskirts of a small town, Tahena suggested spending the night at the nearby farm. She argued a farm beat a camp for comfort. Kelanus looked unimpressed.

"You say this Sallis ti Ath is after me, so it's probably unwise to stay at a farm or inn," Kelanus continued.

"Sallis will question whoever we stay with, but that is all. You're the one who needs fear him, not any innocents," retorted Tahena. "He knows how to find us and how far ahead of him we are. We've got nothing to lose enjoying a little comfort."

"I still don't like it."

Situated on the very edge of the town, the farm looked prosperous. The area seemed to have been overlooked by outlaws, or perhaps there were enough young men to defend the place. It looked peaceful and beautiful. Low rolling hills surrounded the town and this farm looked to be the biggest for milas around. Some fields boasted grazing goats, sheep and cattle, another had pigs and boar. Many more were under cultivation, with the soil recently turned and planted. The first green shoots had already pushed themselves into the light. Tahena noticed an orchard to one side of the buildings. The track ran past the farmhouse.

The fields were deserted, but they saw several humans chatting in the farmyard, and patches of blue showed where sylphs mixed with the rest. As the strangers approached, everybody turned to look. Kelanus noted they watched in curiosity and not fear. These people had never dealt with raiders.

Black and brown dogs hurtled up to them, barking furiously and sending Neptarik scuttling up his owner's horse in a blue blur. The dogs turned aside before the horses could trample them, but continued to bark until the humans dismounted.

Neptarik stayed on the horse, even after the dogs quieted. They sniffed at the humans, tails wagging.

Tahena knocked at the farmer's door moments later, ignoring Kelanus's arguments. When the farmer – a ruddy-faced individual who appeared to be cheerful all the time – answered, Tahena quickly explained what she wanted.

Kelanus and Balnus, obviously fighting men, sat silently on their horses, while Neptarik inspected the farm. All the buildings were of an unusual brown stone and the sylph counted a shippon and three barns, not to mention a large stable and smaller houses for the farm workers to live in.

Small children ceased their play to stare, aware that their parents also stared. Men and women dressed in woolens watched the small party in silence. Infertile sylphs stared at Neptarik in wonder, earpoints twitching. Seeing them tickling the dogs' ears, setting tails wagging, the scout felt a stab of shame at his reaction.

Neptarik's eyes again looked towards the fields. This man farmed everything. No wonder he looked so cheerful. The sylph's attention suddenly turned to the farmer.

"Whose is this lad?" asked the farmer, beaming jovially at Neptarik.

"Mine," grunted Balnus.

"You can sleep in the second barn and stable your horses there for free, so long as I can borrow him for the night."

Neptarik's earpoints jerked upright and his eyes widened. What did this man want of him? Having been around soldiers most of his life, he knew how filthy some humans could be and he felt wary of this man's motive.

A couple of the human women laughed.

"Why?" Balnus's voice carried menace. He also harbored suspicions.

"Male sylphs are rare up here," explained the farmer. "I've got three young females and no males to breed with 'em. Maybe something will come of tonight and maybe not. Either way, that second barn's empty, so you can sleep in it."

Neptarik's earpoints went so high that Tahena thought they might snap off. The sylph probably thought he had reached heaven.

Slowly, the human farmworkers returned to their business and the visitors were ignored. The children resumed their play. Only the infertiles continued to stare at the newcomers.

"Can I see these females?" asked Balnus.

"Can I?" muttered Neptarik. Best to be safe. Ugly sylphs were rare, but a boy had to be sure.

The farmer leaned back into the farmhouse. "Kelewan, Iwnan, Ewkinan!"

In moments three sylph females arrived, smiling shyly at the visitors and making eyes at Neptarik. The scout made eyes right back: four pairs of earpoints slanted forwards and twitched in mutual interest. The females were of an age, not obviously related to each other and gave the male sylph long looks. All three were sleek, properly looked after and well proportioned. The omens were good.

"I think you've got yourself a deal," growled Balnus, after a glance at his sylph, who ignored his master in return.

Tahena nodded at the farmer, but she looked unimpressed. "We accept your terms," she said. "Which barn is it?"

"When do we get started?" asked Neptarik, between smiling at the three girls.

"Can't wait, can you?" Balnus sounded sour. He turned to his companions. "He always was a terrible womanizer."

Neptarik hummed the first line of 'Human Hypocrite'.

"Perhaps you should get him married," suggested Tahena. "Male sylphs need the security of a wife. And sylph wives are good at keeping their husbands in order. Especially when there's two of them to bully him in the right direction." She sniffed. "I sometimes think that human males need –" She broke off and grinned uncertainly at her two companions.

Neptarik ignored Tahena.

The farmer led them to a clean, dry barn, with plenty of straw and places to settle both horses and humans. Kelanus nodded in approval as he inspected it and agreed with Tahena's comment that even this beat sleeping in the open air. The building kept out the thin wind and felt delightfully warm.

"And you come with me," said the farmer to the sylphs.

Balnus followed the four sylphs, to ensure his own was properly catered for. The females looked as eager as Neptarik.

Tahena and Kelanus quickly relieved the horses of their saddlebags and tack. Between them, they checked all hooves, clearing out anything that did not belong there, and curried the horses with handfuls of straw. Once satisfied, they led the animals to divisions that were the next best thing to proper stalls.

As Balnus still had not returned, they fed the horses and laid out their blankets on the upper level of the barn. They insulated the floor with plenty of straw, and trod it down to make it less prickly.

Tahena thanked the farm sylphs who brought warm washwater and, when they showed no signs of leaving, showed them the door. Even then, they peered inquisitively around the door to stare wide-eyed at Kelanus. Whenever spotted by one of the visitors, the blue faces at the door would disappear momentarily.

Noise drifted into the barn from outside but, as dusk deepened, more and more of the children were called inside. Other farm noises began to settle and quieten down, except for a dog that could not resist barking at anything and everything.

"I still don't like this," muttered Kelanus.

"What are you afraid of?" laughed Tahena. "That we'll get soft and want this every night?"

"Two things to consider," replied Kelanus. "It's obvious there have been no raids here. The town's probably too big for raiders to attack, but this farm is far enough out to be a target. The longer it's been left alone, the more likely it is that it will be raided. The other is the danger we might be putting this farmer in."

"I told you, Sallis –"

"I know, I know; he doesn't harm innocents. But is Sallis ti Ath the only one behind us? What if someone else, not quite as nice, is also after us?"

"I only detected ti Ath."

"You were only looking for ti Ath."

Tahena nodded. She hadn't considered anyone else might be following them. The thought of a sorcerer, of a demon worshipper, with Sallis's talent frightened her. Of course, that someone else might not be human at all, an even more terrifying prospect.

She stared when Balnus returned.

"They've not even got a guard out," said the soldier. "All peaceful here, from the looks of things. Just about everybody's gone to bed now."

Kelanus grunted. "How's Neptarik?"

"The beggar's landed on his feet again," chuckled Balnus. "Not only has he got three nubile wenches to spend the night with, but –" he looked around the barn and shook his head "– his accommodation is a sight better than this, too."

***

The log slipped sideways and almost escaped the fire, sending gleaming sparks scurrying skywards. As tree sap crackled and spat, Sallis ti Ath scowled at the fire wishing he had used fewer pine logs. He had collected the wood absent-mindedly, thinking of his prey as he worked. He had made no headway at all today, with Kelanus still as far ahead this evening as last night. Which meant that the party ahead had increased its pace. They knew – or had guessed – who chased them.

Deciding that the fire would not rage out of control or shower him with sparks as it died down, Sallis wrapped himself in his blanket. He still waited to see if the unknown Gifted would make another attempt to find him. He had prepared for the intrusion this time; whoever touched his mind would get a nasty shock next time they tried. Just enough to frighten, not harm. Though if a sorcerer, he deserved more than a fright.

A noise out of the night brought all his senses fully alert. He listened for the noise to be repeated, aware that any animal would shy away from the fire. Somebody – and unlikely to be alone – waited in the darkness for the fire to die down and for Sallis to sleep. He doubted they had good or honorable intentions. His hand reached out and grasped his sword.

Listening for what felt like hours brought results. Three men surrounded his small camp. His horse remained silent, meaning the three out there were good at being stealthy. Unfortunately for them, Sallis ti Ath was better.

Not a twig snapped and no sound except light breathing.

Definitely three.

One to his right.

One beyond his feet.

The closest a body length from his head...

Drawing on the Gift, Sallis rolled out of his blanket and pulled his sword free in the same movement. Unable to react, the three men stared as ti Ath increased his movement through time. His sword jarred as it caught in the skull of the man nearest to him and as he pulled it free, he pivoted to take the man to his right down.

Seeing his third opponent, he released the Gift.

"Run," he growled. "If you want to live."

The boy dropped his sword, turned and ran as fast as he could.

Sallis paused to take in the two corpses. Clean-shaven and well kept, they were not the usual cutthroats and bandits who too often infested the road. Even if they wore civilian clothing, these were soldiers. Changing his mind, he decided to pursue the boy.

If there were soldiers out here acting in this way, they were not men friendly to Marka.

Sallis ti Ath smiled grimly to himself as he pounded after the boy. He would have answers.

***
**Chapter 9**

Riding South

Now the boy moved with considerably more caution than before, Sallis ti Ath slowed his pace. He didn't want to catch him before getting his answers. A blackbeak's trill reached his ears and he halted. A diurnal bird, the blackbeak only squawked in protest at night. When another replied, Sallis smiled to himself. Sign and countersign for when the boy and the now-dead raiders returned. Which meant there were more. Senses alert, he crept forward.

Neither large nor insignificant, the camp had tents for ten men and he wondered how a force this size managed to wander the countryside with impunity. In theory, the City Guard patrolled this far. He watched the boy report to a man outside one of the tents. Too far away to eavesdrop and he daren't risk using the Gift.

Tents for ten men and he had killed two. Eight left.

The camp's layout told Sallis these men were soldiers and not ordinary brigands. But who would send soldiers to act as raiders in Markan territory? He moved closer. Though commissioned to apprehend Kelanus, Sallis realized sorting these raiders had equal importance for Marka. Certainly worth a gamble.

Another man joined the boy and they spoke in low voices. Clean-shaven, this man wore no uniform. Sallis ti Ath had not really expected one.

Whichever army they came from, he could not leave eight men loose to bring harm to the innocent people living in this area. That so few people lived out here meant those who did were more vulnerable.

A pity he was no archer. Concealed by darkness, he could wreak havoc from here. Too late to learn now, even if he had a bow. He knew one end of a sword from the other, so that and the Gift must be his weapons. Would these men settle down to sleep, or ride out, to try and capture or kill him? The boy would tell his officer about the pursuit.

Moments later the rest of the men tumbled from their tents and readied weapons. There were only two horses, which Sallis assumed belonged to the officer and his second.

"Form up, men!" called the man ti Ath assumed held the command.

Sallis ti Ath smiled to himself; unless he missed his guess, those accents came from Eldova. Even better, these men were going to hunt him. They would learn they were the prey.

Disciplined and organized, the small column of soldiers formed up. The commander led and the second brought up the rear, which meant a horse before and behind the rest, helping protect them. Sallis knew he must think on his feet and fast. Should he cut ahead of the men and wait for them in his camp, or stalk the column and take them out one at a time? How best to take them out?

The men moved in silence: further proof they were not ordinary brigands. It also made his self-imposed task harder.

He stared at the horse at the rear. A pity to destroy such a magnificent warhorse, but he had no choice. Taking care to make no noise, fully aware the animals were more likely to detect his presence than the men, he crept closer, keeping pace with the column and waiting for his moment to strike.

As the path turned to avoid a huge rock, Sallis waited until the second and his horse were alone. He moved, sped up time for himself, and laid a hand on the horse's flank. Using the talent that in others healed, he stilled the animal's heart before diving back out of sight and returning to normal time.

The horse collapsed soundlessly, expelling its last breath. The rider pitched forward with a cry that ended abruptly as the man's neck snapped. Sallis ti Ath could hardly believe his luck. Moments later, two of the foot soldiers reappeared.

The dead horse and rider caused consternation; in moments, the soldiers grouped around the two corpses. The commander eventually spoke.

"Looks like the horse suffered a seizure," he said. "Pincher was thrown forward and broke his neck. Leave him here; we'll collect him on the way back."

"Are we under attack, sir?" asked the boy, still worried after his last encounter with Sallis.

"No. Come on men; form up!"

Moments later, Sallis again stalked the men. Should he now take out the other horse? Or move his way up the column and wait to see how long before the soldiers worked out they were being killed off? Either way, he must move quickly, or they would reach his camp.

Another opportunity soon presented itself. The men marched in a different order after each time they grouped together. Whether by accident or design, Sallis did not know, and it did not matter. Before they had time to get used to the new file, Sallis struck again, using his dagger to take out the second-from-last man, while the last man walked backwards. The last man in the file died seconds later, Sallis setting his body gently to the ground. Five left.

A little time passed before the soldiers realized they had lost two more. Discipline eroded as cries and shouts pierced the air, but Sallis ensured he stayed well out of sight. The commander rode around his men in ever expanding circles, hoping to trap their attacker, but Sallis waited to spring forward and kill this horse in the same way as the last, only without manipulating time.

The officer was more fortunate than his second in his fall, but Sallis killed him before he had time to react.

Moments later, only two men and a boy remained. The survivors played straight into ti Ath's hands as discipline collapsed. They panicked and scattered. Sallis smiled: he killed the men within a minute and cornered the boy.

Without the benefit of experience to temper opinion, Sallis knew children would believe more fanatically than any zealot.

"You should have chosen a different profession," advised Sallis, showing his teeth.

The boy said nothing, but his gaze darted this way and that, seeking escape.

Sallis closed the gap and the boy had no time even to scream.

***

"Is that bloody sylph asleep?"

Kelanus winked at Balnus before returning his attention to Neptarik, whose eyes were shut, head leaning against Balnus's chest. The sylph wore a contented look and his earpoints twitched as the General spoke. He had been around soldiers long enough to recognize friendly banter, even if it came close to drawing blood.

"He's just resting," replied Balnus, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Just resting?" Kelanus snorted. "Of us all, I think he had the most fun."

Neptarik opened one eye to regard his antagonist, but said nothing.

"He earned us a free night in comfort," countered Balnus.

"He prostituted himself," retorted Kelanus, putting a sneer in his voice.

"He certainly enjoyed himself," muttered Tahena. She raised her voice. "As I recall, you never objected to the terms."

"Which you were also quick to accept." Kelanus changed victim.

Tahena stared dangerously at Kelanus, and Neptarik, sensing a row brewing, screwed his eyes shut, but kept an earpoint free to eavesdrop.

"Is this a bruise on your ear?" demanded Balnus, glancing down at his sylph. He knew better than to touch it. Breeding sylphs were fussy about earpoint touching.

Neptarik gave a half-grunt, half-yawn and twitched the offending earpoint. "Iwnan liked to nibble," he replied. "Or Ewkinan." He closed both eyes again.

Kelanus, overhearing, snorted. "He should be married off," he said, finding the sylph a more willing victim than Tahena.

Neptarik pretended to be asleep, but spoiled it by humming the opening bar of 'A Good Night Had By All'.

"And he should be scouting," added the sylph's tormentor.

"Let him rest," laughed Balnus. "He was _very_ busy last night. There were three of them."

Tahena giggled and changed the subject. "On a serious note," she began, "You should know ti Ath gained a little last night. I don't know by how much, but he is closer."

Kelanus's eyes widened slightly. "How long before he catches us?"

Tahena shrugged. "Two weeks."

"How far to Cadister?"

"Not how far. How long." Tahena's dark eyes were solemn. "Three weeks at our present pace. He'll catch us before we reach it."

Neptarik came wide-awake in an instant and he stared in consternation. "You need me to scout?" he asked.

Balnus placed a restraining hand on the sylph's collar. "Catch up on your rest," he murmured. "We'll see what Kelanus wants."

"What can we do?" Kelanus kept his voice quiet and calm. "I take it that if he catches us, you three will be safe; it's only me he's after?"

Tahena nodded. "You're the only one wanted in Marka."

Neptarik relaxed a little and closed his eyes again, ready to catch up on some lost sleep, if Kelanus let him.

"As to what we can do, I have a trick or two hidden away." Tahena smiled. "We'll see in the next day or so how well ti Ath is doing."

"Are you sure he'll catch up with us?" pressed Kelanus.

"He's gained on us," said Tahena. "And he'll catch up eventually, no matter how far or hard we run."

"We should ride harder and for longer," suggested Balnus. "Stop less often and for shorter periods."

"I'll go along with that." Kelanus stared at the southern woman.

"It's worth a try." Tahena shrugged.

Kelanus turned his attention back to Neptarik. "Are you awake enough to scout for a bit? I'm used to knowing what's in front of us."

Neptarik glanced at his master, who nodded. He knew he wouldn't be allowed to sleep for long! The sylph slipped to the ground, pattered ahead and quickly disappeared from sight.

Tahena maneuvered her horse alongside Kelanus. "I believe that our General is taunting Neptarik," she remarked. "I'd no idea bullying is one of your faults. After all, the boy can hardly fight back."

Kelanus forced a smile. "Neptarik's more than used to banter," he replied. "You should hear him and his owner when they get going. He can hold his own."

Riding behind, Balnus laughed aloud. "I'm surprised he hasn't challenged us to cards, yet. It's only a matter of time before he thinks he could use more coin."

Tahena shook her head. "You've taught him bad habits. I've never heard of sylphs gambling before."

"That's because they've usually got no money," replied Balnus. "Plenty of sylphs gamble."

"Only in your army," retorted Tahena, disappointed that some sylphs had begun to pick up humans' bad habits.

Kelanus changed the subject. "If Neptarik can sleep on horseback, he can catch up on his sleep after the next stop. But we must know what lies ahead." He shut his eyes for a few moments and shook his head.

"Are you all right?" Concerned, Tahena had seen.

He shrugged. "Perhaps I'm tired. I didn't sleep very well last night."

"You can't blame that on Neptarik," grinned Tahena. "He was in another barn."

The men laughed at that.

"You're right about one thing though," continued the southerner. "He should be married off. It's unnatural for a sylph his age to be unmarried."

"Sallis ti Ath." Kelanus broached the topic bothering him most. "What can we do about him?"

Tahena's smile broadened. "Fresh horses," she suggested. "The ones we've got now are about done in."

Kelanus and Balnus exchanged a glance.

"Fresh horses it is," remarked Balnus. "If we have enough coin."

Tahena's slanted eyes glinted with amusement. "We have enough coin." She refused to elaborate.

***

Neptarik swayed in time with the horse's movement. Sylphs usually stayed well away from beasts as unpredictable as horses, but he had grown used to horseback. Even better, the animal had also got used to him, nuzzling his shoulder gently whenever he came close, instead of whickering and staring at him as if wishing him harm.

Most sylphs were seen as oversensitive when it came to large animals, but that held good for the scouts also. Most horses they saw were warhorses, trained to hurt. So just in case, he stayed well away from Kelanus's and Tahena's mounts.

He felt sorry that the horses would soon part company with their riders and wondered where Tahena kept her coin for buying more. If she had coin for that, perhaps she had enough to take a few wagers with him. He grimaced to himself and remembered that the prim Tahena frowned upon gambling.

He thought fondly of the three sylph breeders from last night and wished them well. That their owner wanted them to breed was not his concern, but he felt a pang of regret for the children he might never know. One might even be a son. The odds of impregnating all three on the same night were slim, and even slimmer of producing children other than infertiles. All three of his mates for the night were sad to see him go, running after the horses as far as the farmer's gate. Even then, they waved until the farm lay far behind.

He opened his eyes when they stopped again for another rest. He smiled across at Kelanus, who smiled back. No hint of banter between them now.

"I will forage, if you wish," suggested the sylph.

"I'll come with you," offered Tahena. "There are some wonderful edibles back there. Thornfruit leaves."

Neptarik's earpoints twitched. Thornfruit leaves were sweet to the tongue, a delicacy enjoyed by sylphs and humans alike.

Kelanus glanced at Balnus and both men nodded approval. Moments later, the sylph and the southern woman were gone.

Neptarik picked at the thornfruit leaves, glancing occasionally at his companion. If she wanted to speak with him, he preferred her to speak first. Tahena worked quickly and he almost suggested they had collected enough, when she finally turned to him.

"I'm surprised you're allowed to banter with humans," she said. "I thought that Kelanus was being cruel, or perhaps jealous."

Neptarik twitched his earpoints. "It depends on the human, _donanya_ ," he replied. "The General and my master are friends. We joke together sometimes."

"So that friendship is extended to you." Tahena nodded.

Neptarik gave her a neutral look.

"Do they banter often with you?"

" _Enya_ often, Kelanus- _ya_ rarely."

Tahena smiled. "I'm sure you come off best on those occasions."

Neptarik began to suspect that the southern woman enjoyed his company. If she had made the excuse of foraging with him just for this... He wondered – and worried – why she showed so much interest in him. Sylphs must sometimes tolerate an owner's amorous advances, but this very rarely happened.

Even then only by mutual agreement between owner and owned.

He suspected Tahena had no inclinations like that towards sylphs. But all humans could be strange.

"You look worried about something."

He blinked. Thinking of something as a reply, he gestured with a hand. "I wonder what will happen when Sallis ti Ath catches us." At least with that he was being honest. Mostly.

Tahena tilted her head to one side before straightening it again almost immediately. It looked like a half-shrug. "Leave him to me," she replied, eventually. "Whatever happens, there's no need for you to fear."

"I am not afraid." Neptarik kept his voice level and firm.

Tahena looked into his silvery gray eyes. "I do believe that you are not," she said. How could Neptarik be so unlike any other sylph she had ever met? She sighed. "You should be. Are _all_ the sylphs in the Vintner Army as fearless as you?"

The sylph grinned at the compliment and his earpoints twitched in conceit. "Most of them," he replied. "And the rest more so."

***

"What are those two talking about?"

Balnus tried to be surreptitious as he watched Tahena and Neptarik. Kelanus laughed.

"It's not funny. Don't tell me she fancies him."

"Wouldn't surprise me," replied Kelanus. "He's a handsome sylph. And he seems to be luckier than most with the female of his own species. There's nothing to get a girl going like competition."

"Aye," agreed Balnus, carefully, "but not usually between sylphs and humans."

"Happens all the time. Surprised you don't know. Some people have several pretty sylphs to keep them occupied. Though they usually keep 'em perfumed to overcome the sinabra."

Balnus fixed his former commander with a dark blue stare. "He's _my_ sylph," he muttered, protectively. "Dalliances with female sylphs is one thing, but she won't have him. If he wants a wife, he need only say."

"I think Tahena's using him to learn more about us." Kelanus raised an eyebrow. "Remember that first night we were out? She spoke to each of us in turn, trying to learn more about us. She probably learned far more from him than she ever will from us."

Balnus nodded slowly. "Time to change the subject; they're headed back."

The two soldiers thanked the sylph and Tahena for the edibles, mixing them with some dried meat taken from one of the saddlebags.

As the meal came to an end, and the sun continued its slow descent towards the horizon, Balnus and Kelanus left the campfire, checking on the horses and the camp's perimeter. Neptarik and Tahena were left alone. The sylph surprised the woman by speaking without first being spoken to.

"You do not call the Father by His name," he said. "Most other humans do."

Tahena blinked. "I know."

"It is too familiar to call a god by name," continued the sylph.

Tahena considered the comment for a moment. "The Father doesn't mind too much. Ilven believe it is blasphemous to name Him, but only if they do it. They're much less bothered if a human does. Those with the Gift feel a closer affinity to Him than those without."

"He is not the humans' god?" Neptarik was wide-eyed. "Not _our_ god?"

"He allowed humans – and sylphs – to stay on the Ilvenworld, provided we left His daughters in peace."

"The ilven," breathed Neptarik. His eyes went even wider. "Have you ever seen one?"

Tahena shook her head. "I'd like to, one day."

"They say nothing is more beautiful than an ilven." Neptarik's eyes were dreamy.

The woman laughed. "The only person I know who's ever met any is Sandev." Her face grew serious. Declining ilven numbers worried the Gifted. If it had anything to do with humans, might the Father rescind his permission? Or perhaps it meant that the Malefic Sephiroth gained strength. Either way, a cause for concern.

The sylph looked away, falling into his customary silence.

Tahena continued. "Sandev says they all have great beauty. Perhaps some still inhabit a sparsely populated area of the continent. And there will be a tribe of wild sylphs nearby."

Neptarik's interested suddenly increased again and his earpoints pricked up.

"Ilven and sylphs always got on well. Wherever there are ilven, wild sylphs are rarely far away." She turned as the two soldiers returned to the camp.

"Right," said Kelanus, briskly, "who has the first watch?"

***

"Good evening."

The farmer and his wife looked at Sallis ti Ath before they returned the greeting. They sounded cautious.

The whitewashed farm gleamed in the sunlight. Ti Ath failed to recognize the pale material used to tile the roof. The tiles were smaller than he expected, doubtless thanks to some quirk of the stone. Flowers of all colors filled the small front garden and climbing plants framed the door.

Their visitor looked around the farmyard and nodded to himself. Two dogs chained outside the barn barked, even if their tails were wagging. The barking might be for show, or perhaps the tail wagging showed eager anticipation of tearing the visitors apart. He heard more dogs barking inside the barn.

Small children played in the yard, while a couple of older boys guided cattle out of the shippon and nosy sylphs poked their heads out to spy on the strangers. He thought the sylphs should be helping milk those cows, then remembered that large animals and sylphs tended not to mix.

Sallis ti Ath noted those sylphs looked well cared for. A good sign. "The innkeeper told me you adopt foundlings," he continued.

"We have and we do," said the farmer, still wary.

Turning in his saddle, Sallis lifted the boy he had captured and set him to the ground. "He needs hard work and firm discipline," he said. "And to learn emotions other than hate."

The farmer and his wife eyed the boy, taking in his sullen resignation. "We can do that," he said.

"Your innkeeper said you could."

The boy looked up at Sallis and snarled. "You're leaving me here because you're too weak to kill me!"

The farmer's mouth dropped open. Sensing trouble, the sylphs withdrew into the shippon.

"Something like that." Sallis nodded. "One day, I trust you'll call that weakness 'decency'." He passed a bag of coins to the farmer. "For your trouble, Goodman."

The boy took a couple of paces forward, fists balled, as Sallis ti Ath turned his horse. "I'll be older soon," he shouted. "I'll come for you. Murderer! I won't be too weak to kill you! Remember my name. Remember Dian Cael Jeram!"

Sallis put a few milas between him and the farm before stopping for the night. Thankfully, he could guide his horse in even near darkness. Even better, as he caressed the sense telling him the heading and pace of his quarry, he had gained still more milas. With luck, he should catch his prey in about ten days, before the new moon.

Gathering water quickly, Sallis saw to his animal before eating and drinking. He didn't bother with a fire, just in case more enemies of Marka lurked nearby, and wrapped himself in his blankets before much time passed. He intended to be away early: preferably before or immediately after daybreak.

He had already put the boy out of his thoughts, but his name and the threat had been carefully filed away, added to the long list of his enemies.

***

The next few days passed in a blur for Tahena. Conversations with Kelanus and Balnus apart, she enjoyed Neptarik's company, though he was considerably less talkative than the two men. Sometimes he forgot himself and chatted with her as animatedly as if she were his owner. These talks took place when he wasn't scouting or foraging for edibles. He found almost all their campsites, good sources of water and collected far more than his fair share of food. She wondered how his species had ever become slaves.

The first time she arranged for fresh horses, leading the existing animals into a small town, she left Kelanus and Neptarik behind, explaining she found the task easier if alone. Balnus, who had his own reason to visit the town, escorted her.

While waiting for their return, Neptarik caught four brown fish, enough for their evening meal.

The next morning, Tahena found out why Balnus had insisted on escorting her into the town.

"Choca?" Balnus offered her a slab of the dark treat.

"Thank you."

"Sir?"

"Yes I will." Kelanus nodded his thanks. "That smaller piece will do for me, thanks."

Neptarik, who had been scouting around their camp, suddenly materialized and jumped at Balnus. The sylph's eyes were alight and his earpoints jerked in excitement. Tahena laughed at his antics.

"And a piece for Neptarik." Balnus grinned as he handed the choca over.

The scout had no intention of sharing and moved away from his companions to eat this rare treat free from distraction.

"Is he always like this with choca?" Tahena asked.

Balnus sighed. "You'd think I starved him," he complained.

"He probably thinks you do." Tahena saw that not a trace remained of the choca in a surprisingly short time.

They passed from Outer Marka, crossing a plain with the occasional stunted, twisted tree. A line of weathered boulders stretched into the distance from both sides of the road, here little more than a track.

"Are those boundary stones?" asked Neptarik.

"Yes," replied Tahena.

"Where are we now? Still in what's left of the Markan Empire?"

"The Prefecture of Ungst," answered Kelanus. "The southernmost Prefecture still ruled directly from Marka."

"The next border we cross will take us into Cadister," Tahena said. "At the southern end of that is the city and port of Cadister."

"Halfway there then," announced the sylph, before trotting ahead to scout.

Three days after passing into Ungst, Tahena again exchanged their horses in a small town. As before, the animals possessed stamina and strength in abundance, and their pace increased. Again, Tahena sought their pursuer, snatching her questing mind back later than the previous evening. Almost as if he knew what she had been doing, Kelanus brought his horse alongside hers.

"How is Sallis ti Ath coming along?" he asked, smiling.

"Falling behind a little," replied Tahena. "Before you rejoice, he'll probably change his own horse. He'll work out what we've done and be on our tails again. We've gained perhaps a few days, but he'll make that up, soon or late."

Kelanus's eyes hardened and he nodded. "If it's soon, we'll be ready for him."

She kept her sigh private. "What's the matter with you? You've no idea just what he's capable of."

"We might surprise him."

"You won't stand a chance in a fight; the odds are stacked in his favor. The man has the Gift!"

Kelanus fell silent, but Tahena knew she had failed to convince him.

As usual, when they stopped for the night, Neptarik took the first watch. The sylph stood his fair share of watches, most of them at night. He could catch up on lost sleep wedged between his master and the horse he rode. Besides, he could see in the dark. Nobody could accuse him of slacking. Tahena decided Balnus was right to describe his sylph as exceptional. She glanced over her shoulder to look along their backtrail and hoped his efforts would not be in vain.

***

Sallis ti Ath's eyes widened. Until now, his inexorable pursuit had only one possible outcome. Kelanus's steps had grown brighter and brighter... but. The long dead fire, cold ashes in a deserted camp, barely registered. That Kelanus had drawn further away surprised him. It had happened before; now he faced a repeat.

It clearly did not involve physical projection, or all signs of Kelanus would disappear. Besides, if the Gifted one or sorcerer riding with the escaped General could physically project, why not go directly to their destination instead of riding?

No, those he hunted must change their animals at regular intervals. Either they carried considerable coin with them; or else someone carried letters-of-right. It looked less and less likely that a sorcerer rode with Kelanus.

So if one of the Gifted rode with the escapee, there must be a reason. But why would any of the Gifted help a man wanted for murder?

"Or is one of the Ten aiding Kelanus?" he muttered. Only two of the Ten could be aware of the fugitive's existence.

Might Dervra be behind Kelanus and the murder of Branad Vintner? If he intended to weaken the Vintner cause, he had succeeded admirably. From what he knew of Dervra, the man preferred to attach himself to those who helped him, and then discard them once they were of no further use. He did not break them out of jail. Unless he wanted to further threaten the prospects of Marcus Vintner. Even then, ti Ath knew he would have found Kelanus's body before traveling far. Dervra never liked loose ends that might return to haunt him.

The other who probably knew of Kelanus's existence lived in Marka. But why would _Sandev_ help a man suspected of murder? Why would she help a man accused of mutilating and killing sylphs? Why would a _sylph_ help such a man? The more Sallis ti Ath learned on this assignment, the more complex it seemed. Again, his commission had proved rather more complicated that it seemed, having much more to the story than with a normal criminal. He laughed at his thoughts and shook his head. There was nothing normal about any criminal he had chased.

He would have no answers to those questions until he learned whether the Gifted traveling with Kelanus belonged to Sandev or Dervra. The most important question concerned direction.

"Where are you running to?" He must stop muttering to himself, it was a bad habit. Fine when alone, but once you started to indulge in company, those surrounding you believed you were insane. He leaned back on his horse to think.

The party he chased had headed more or less south since leaving Marka. They had first traveled east, wisely to avoid the Key, but then swung south. If, as Sallis suspected, Kelanus wanted to hire out his services in the southern lands, he must first travel to where he could take a ship. Cadister, a major trading port, lay south of Angst.

The coast had many – mostly small – ports, but the principal city of Cadister Prefecture presumably offered a wider choice of ships. Now wishing he could physically project himself and get ahead of his target, Sallis spurred his animal on. He would have to ride long and hard – and doubtless change his horse frequently – to catch Kelanus before he sailed to who-knew-where.

Why was nothing ever easy?

***

Cadister boasted the same bustle Neptarik now expected from every city. People thronged the streets, slowing the horses to a walk. Most of the flat-roofed buildings were painted white and reflected the strong sunlight to almost unbearable levels. The sylph's pupils had long since narrowed to almost invisible vertical slits.

Almost everybody stared at his shorter-than-normal hair, but he ignored them all. Sylph scouts were unheard of here. Or perhaps they stared at him because he sat on a horse.

"Very hot," the sylph muttered, waving a hand in front of his face.

"The sea breeze doesn't get into some streets," Tahena told him. "It'll feel more comfortable when we get that."

Neptarik wrinkled his nose; he could smell the salt tang, but had not yet seen the sea. The distinctive cries of gulls – and their speckled white droppings – were very much in evidence.

"Well, we got here ahead of Sallis ti Ath." Kelanus sounded cheerful and grinned at his companions.

"Yes, but he's still gaining on us." Tahena gave a faint smile of her own. "He must be fuming that we keep jumping ahead as soon as he gets close."

Neptarik gave her a carefully neutral look. "You are worried he might catch us before we leave."

Tahena looked at the sylph. "Astute boy," she muttered before raising her voice a little. "He's riding as fast as he can," she continued. "He's either buying or stealing horses to keep up his speed."

"Can he catch us?" persisted the scout.

Tahena sniffed. "If you ever decide to leave the army, you'll do well in the City Guard as an interrogator."

Neptarik blinked while Balnus and Kelanus laughed.

"We must find the port," rumbled Kelanus. "Sandev said to find the Portmaster, a friend of hers named Repp."

Tahena grinned. "Sandev has friends everywhere."

Neptarik wriggled to look at his owner.

Balnus looked back at him.

"I've never been on a ship," said the sylph. He quickly hummed a line from 'A Sailor Went to Sea'.

"Neither have I."

This answer satisfied the scout and he settled back to inspect the city and its people. Cadister boasted an even more cosmopolitan mix than Marka. Dark-skinned men, who reminded him of Nazan and southerners with eyes like Tahena's. There were men with pallid skins, men with honey-colored skins and men with skins every shade between.

There were rich and poor, not to mention human and sylph beggars whose cries for alms competed with those making a more honest living. Cadister had many more ragged humans and sylphs than Marka. Not for the first time, Neptarik felt grateful that he belonged to a good owner; life here looked tough for some.

Kelanus touched Balnus's arm. "Unless I miss my guess, the port's down that way." He nodded down a short hill where ships' masts poked above the height of the buildings. "Introduce Tahena and Neptarik to Cadisteran cuisine. Looks like a place to eat along to the right." He pointed. "See if they have rooms."

"What about the horses?" asked Tahena. "I doubt we can take them with us."

"If you know where to get rid of them, then do so."

Tahena inclined her head. "You're going to see the Portmaster alone?"

Kelanus smiled. "That's right. Won't be long."

"Don't forget Sallis ti Ath is catching up. He'll be here soon, if he rides through the night again."

"He must kill his horses." Kelanus grinned. "Or gets them from the same places you do. Don't worry, Sandev told me I could trust this Repp."

Dismounting and leaving the small group before anyone could protest further, Kelanus turned down the wide road. His guess was a good one and the street opened out as he turned a corner. The harbor lay before him.

An impressive number of ships were crammed into the small space; more entered the harbor and others left as he watched. The bustle of the busy port made Cadister's streets appear idle in comparison. Humans and sylphs were all hard at work, many hurrying crates of fish across to the curing sheds at the end of each quay. He asked directions to the Portmaster and, moments later, entered a small cube-shaped building.

Mounds of papers everywhere made the Portmaster's office look small and cramped. He recognized customs officers and thought the tall man standing before one desk might be a ship's owner, or its commander. Everybody turned to stare at Kelanus, a stranger dusty from traveling and wearing a sword.

"I'm looking for Portmaster Repp," said Kelanus.

"You just found him."

Repp wore shirt and breeches, but no jacket. Of medium build, he boasted wiry auburn hair and the grayest eyes Kelanus had ever seen. The way those eyes danced with the joy of life, Kelanus guessed that Repp enjoyed his work.

Kelanus forced a smile. "I'm looking for passage south, on the fastest ship you can find me. Sandev said you might be able to help me."

Repp's smile slipped. "Sandev? You a friend of hers?"

"Not exactly. More she's a friend of mine."

"Good enough for me." The Portmaster nodded. "Just you?"

"Three humans and a sylph," replied Kelanus.

"Lose any horses," continued Repp. "Plenty here to buy 'em off of you. Headed south? I've got just the ship for you, tucked into my jacket pocket." The Portmaster smiled.

***

Freshly washed, Tahena looked up as Kelanus entered the rooms she and her companions had taken at the inn. "Have we got a ship?"

Kelanus looked around the rooms quickly, pleased to note the accommodation was clean. Traveling clothes were spread out to dry, including Neptarik's woolens. The remains of a meal, cold now, stood on the table.

"We have. The _Flying Cloud_ , under Captain Liffen Trallon. Heading to the far south, eventually reaching Hejiller. Any of that food left? Where are Balnus and Neptarik?"

"How long is eventually? Help yourself, what we saved is under that cloth."

"Thank you. Repp didn't say – a couple of months I suppose. Where are the others?"

"Here," said Balnus, from the doorway. "The baths are excellent."

Kelanus smiled at a considerably cleaner Balnus and Neptarik. Both had changed into clean clothes, though he wondered how Neptarik could be comfortable wearing woolens in this climate. He glanced at the plate in front of him and began to eat. The meat and vegetables were cold, yet he enjoyed the food.

Tahena waited for the others to sit, her dark eyes unusually intense. "When does she sail?"

"The ship? Day after tomorrow."

Tahena's mouth twisted. "That might be too late. Ti Ath –"

Kelanus held up a hand. "It's the only ship heading that far south. According to Repp she's the largest and fastest afloat. Sallis ti Ath catching us is a risk we are forced to take."

Neptarik turned from the window, after checking the wet clothes. "Are we having more ale?" he asked, licking his lips.

"There is no 'we'," replied his owner. "You've had more than enough for a year, never mind a night. Time for you to be asleep."

Kelanus and Tahena both smiled at the sylph. Neptarik glanced at Balnus, who nodded back. Not for the first time, the scout and his owner had felt obliged to steer their companions away from a row.

"Is this _Flying Cloud_ sound?" Tahena brought the talk back to the important subject.

"I'm a soldier, not a sailor. No idea." Kelanus shrugged. "Repp tells me she turns a tidy profit with each trip. She's seventeen years old and overhauled in Cadister every year. And most of the crew are part owners."

Tahena nodded. "Good signs."

"Besides," continued Kelanus, "you don't think a friend of Sandev's would recommend a sinking ship?"

Tahena smiled.

"Another thing." Kelanus turned to Neptarik. "There's something called a ship's sylph. An infertile that belongs to the ship in some way. Repp didn't explain it very well; he thought everybody knew what he meant. When I asked him about price, he said I'd have to negotiate with the ship's sylph. Ever heard of it?"

The scout pushed out his lower lip and shook his head, eyes solemn. "Some sort of servant?" He turned to Tahena. "You mentioned something."

Tahena nodded. "Sandev told me we must look for a ship sylph without a ship when we reach Hejiller. It's meaningless to me."

"Sounds like she's anything but a servant. You don't negotiate with servants. Either way, we'll find out tomorrow." Kelanus yawned and stretched. "It's been a long day. I'll be grateful if someone shows me the way to these baths."

***

Sandev ensured Caya was comfortably settled with Stanak in another room. Much as she loved her company, she knew the sylph hated having the Gift used around her, even after fifteen years. Sylphs had a natural fear of the Gift and she had hoped buying a breeding sylph might have made a difference. One who might be better at hiding or at least rationalizing her fear.

Eyebrows were raised in the flesh markets when Sandev placed her order. Men expressed surprise that a woman wanted to buy a female sylph who would stand as tall as, if not taller than, her owner. Some human females avoided buying sylph females for just that reason, but Sandev thought this an irrational excuse. Breeding female sylphs were as compliant and obedient as any other sylph toward humans. Either way, Caya had proved as unwilling to stay around as Sandev's previous sylph whenever her mistress used the Gift.

Sandev sighed. Her thoughts only delayed what she must do.

She had tarried as long as she dared and could not now afford to waste more time. She'd made an appointment for tonight, so she was expected. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the villa that stood in almost the exact center of Sandester. Not an old student of hers, but Gifted and knew her well.

She slowly released the Gift, feeling it surge in and around her. For a thousandth of a second she sensed complete nothingness, then the world returned. But she was not in the same place she had left.

"Good evening Sandev. I trust you are well?"

"Sernan Lodern, you should know better than most that I'm always well." Despite her tone, she gave her companion a warm smile, genuinely pleased to see him. "How are things in Sandester?"

"Quiet, which is how I like it. May I offer alovak? I sent my sylphs away for the evening. They'll be back later, but I'm sure I remember how to brew the stuff."

"Alovak will be most welcome, thank you." She watched Sernan as he levered himself from his chair and padded quietly through to his kitchen. Her eyes flickered quickly across the three shelves of books – a veritable library in these semi-literate times – but saw little to interest her there. She raised her voice to carry into the next room. "How are things with the Guard?"

"Another promotion," Sernan called back. "No difference in the uniform, but the pay is better now."

"You must be getting some things right." Another door led through to the sleeping chambers. The fire burned low now, but from the heat trapped in here, it had burned for most of the day. "No wife yet?"

"The ladies run a mila the moment they learn I am Gifted."

"I'm sure that's not true for all of them." She noted the polished wood paneling that stretched from floor to ceiling; it must take his sylphs most of every day to keep it that way.

Sernan gave an unintelligible reply.

Having inspected the room, Sandev sank into one of the comfortable chairs dotted around the room. One emanated the not-quite-pleasant, not-quite-unpleasant sinabra of sylphs and Sernan had risen from another, so she opted for one of the two remaining. The man clearly enjoyed his comforts. And few owners allowed his sylphs a comfortable chair of their very own. Even Caya had to make do with the floor or a wooden stool.

"Your alovak, Madam. As good as any sylph could brew."

Sandev thanked her host as he settled into his chair, followed by a short silence as both savored their drinks.

"I assume your visit is not merely a social one," said Sernan, eventually. "How can I help you?"

"General Kelanus and the sylphs."

"Ah. Nasty business."

"Quite. I understand two sylphs made accusations."

Sernan made a moue and sucked in air across his teeth. "Yes, but were most reluctant to do so officially."

"Who are they and might they be persuaded to speak again now?"

"I can find out names and inclinations for you, but I cannot remember offhand."

"And I believe you had a seven-year spree of sylph murder before the accusations were made?"

"We did." Sernan nodded. "Always males and always mutilated before death. Well, we assume before."

Sandev winced. This was a difficult subject. People often took advantage of sylphs' pacific natures; they abused them and sometimes even killed them. Bullies always delighted in persecuting those weaker than themselves. Although she could never excuse such behavior and despised those who indulged, people rarely damaged sylphs who did not belong to them. "How?"

Sernan gave her a sympathetic look. "Certain body parts were removed and the unfortunate left to bleed to death. That's what we think."

"Did this happen to the two who accused Kelanus?"

A quick shake of the head. "They escaped. One wriggled free just in time and we think the killer, still frustrated, sought out another victim."

"Who also got away?"

"Yes."

_"If I was guilty, do you think I would be so foolish as to leave witnesses to identify me?"_ Sandev recalled Kelanus's words.

"The murders stopped once Kelanus had left, I assume? Did _every_ murder happen when Kelanus was here to do it?"

Her host spread his hands and shrugged. "We were never called on to conduct a thorough investigation. I'll check the file and make a few enquiries. Sylphs get murdered all the time, but it's usually infertiles rather than males. More run away and are not always recovered. Or even reported missing."

Sandev drained her alovak. "I'll be pleased and grateful if you would do that for me. Please be cautious, I don't want to get you into trouble. Let me know immediately if we can prove Kelanus did _not_ kill any of those we know he's been blamed for."

Sernan smiled. "I'll do my best for you. Names of the accusers, where Kelanus was for each murder, if any more murders have been committed since Kelanus's expulsion from Sandester. Can I not press you to a light meal? More alovak?"

Sandev stood. "Thank you, but nothing more for me. There is work I must attend tonight."

"Understood. Perhaps I can find your answers."

Sandev smiled. "I hope so."

***
**Chapter 10**

Plots

Hingast Rexiter shrugged his broad shoulders, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched. He sat among friends here, inasmuch as he had friends, and attacks were unlikely. Dervra's deep blue eyes watched everyone present and perhaps Hingast sensed this continuous scrutiny.

Hingast enjoyed his home comforts. His tent's opulent furnishings suggested Dervra's tastes were plain at best. Large wooden furniture lined the tent walls, with even chairs made from expensive dark Re Annan wood. Two wood burners kept the air delightfully warm, while heavy tapestries showed battles and hunting scenes.

Three others sat in the tent with Hingast and Dervra.

Marshal Janost Jillar, the illegitimate son of a weaver and the most skilled battle commander available to Hingast, bar one. Not to mention the most loyal and successful, bar none.

General Hanan Aelton was Janost's second-in-command and a man after Hingast's own heart. The General displayed greater ruthlessness than his monarch, an impressive feat.

And Kanad Tanur, a civilian, but no less deadly than the others. One-time governor of the Prefecture of Eldova and used to overseeing the displacement of entire populations. A superb administrator, Hingast would need him after the conquest of Marka.

Marshal Janost spoke.

"Our raiding parties tie down a large part of the Markan City Guard, which helps weaken Marka's defenses. Unfortunately, two Vintner armies are camped outside the city, swelling the numbers of men-at-arms to more than the original number of guardsmen. And led by men who know the work."

"We received some news about the Vintners," interrupted Dervra. "One of the claimants is dead, murdered. Rumors claim Marcus Vintner used an assassin. But only rumors."

Hingast sat forward. "Was one of ours responsible?" he asked, tone neutral. Killing those of royal blood set dangerous precedents. As his own murdered father would testify, if he could.

Dervra shook his head. "One of those quirks of fate which aid our cause. A godsend, you might say. It's helped my men in Marka considerably with rumors."

Hingast gave a tight smile. "I'm sure it has. Continue, Marshal Janost."

The commander bobbed his head. "The reinforcements we called for should join us shortly and balance out numbers nicely. Behind them is General Mirrin and his southlanders, keeping the people between here and home sweet and willing." His tone changed. "I cannot vouch for those Master Dervra claims will join us."

It was Dervra's turn to give a tight smile. "The wraiths are not easily called, Janost. They demand a lot of power to keep them here and they are, alas, easily dispatched. However, I guarantee their number and sudden appearance will terrify the enemy."

Hingast restrained a delighted giggle. Wraiths sounded like fun. According to Dervra, they were not of this world, but could still inflict nasty wounds and even death. However, anything containing iron passing through them, or even close to them, would return them to wherever they normally lived. "I trust these wraiths will not frighten or turn on our own men."

"They'll know who to attack." Dervra's eyes were hard.

"That may be so." Janost spoke again. "However, I question the wisdom of sitting here doing nothing. Although we are out of the range of both City Guard and Vintners, there are still people who might tell Marka of our presence if we tarry too long. And these troubling reports of sylphs working in Marcus's army persist."

"Sylphs are weak and of no use in a fight," remarked Kanad. "They have little weight and can't be very strong. What good can they be?"

"You obviously do not know sylphs." General Hanan came to his commander's aid. "They may be slightly built and have trouble keeping their feet in high winds, but, weight for weight, they're as strong as humans. They have superior vision and hearing; they can blend into almost any background. With training, they must be impossible to spot and I'm certain they have a way of communicating in the field. If Marcus Vintner has enough sylphs, he can glean intelligence from a large radius very quickly."

Kanad spread his hands in surrender. "I am not a soldier."

"No," continued Hanan, "you are not. And, like those of us who _are_ soldiers, I am tired of listening to civilians talk of things about which they know nothing."

"Thank you, General Hanan." Hingast's voice brought instant quiet. "We do not need to squabble."

Both Hanan and Kanad bowed.

"Another advantage we hold," said Janost, dragging the discussion back to the subject in hand, "is that we probably have the most experience in siege tactics. Better for us, Marka is quite ordinary and easy to besiege. Numbers aside, I foresee no difficulties there. Only Mikhan Annada has much experience on their side and that gleaned when a young soldier; he has no experience of siege as a commander. But we don't want them to learn of our presence until as late as possible."

"I agree." Hingast nodded. "However, we must wait for reinforcements. Marshal, if we advance to the point where our presence becomes known and reinforcements arrive afterward, do you not think this will also be to our advantage? If nothing else, the enemy will think we are less than we really are."

"Assuming those who report our presence do not also report theirs."

Hingast turned to Dervra. "Can you think of a counter to these sylphs? There must be some weakness we can exploit."

Dervra smiled. "I will do my best, Majesty."

"Good." Hingast dismissed his lieutenants and ended the meeting.

***

The season was now warm enough for Janin to need his blanket only to insulate his backside against the cold pavement. He sat cross-legged on the blanket and not on his haunches as most sylphs preferred. Bare chested, he wore only breeches and a cord that tied back his long silvery gray hair. Some copper coins lay before him and he had just finished a bread roll a kind passerby had quite deliberately dropped onto the blanket.

His earpoints twitched in contentment as he basked in the sun. The next few moons would be superb, probably the only time of the year when he felt glad to be a beggar. Remembering why he begged here, he kept an eye on the Guildsman across the road, waiting for any of Marka's enemies to leave. Several men he recognized as working for Marlen had come and gone but he had no idea where they were staying. Others probably reported on them. He passed all his information to Sandev and she rewarded him.

A cart blocked his view of the inn.

"Boy!" called the driver. "Catch!"

Something green and red streaked toward the sylph and he leapt to his feet to snag it from the air. He stared in surprise at the apple. Fruit was out of season, so where had the driver managed to get this? He looked up again, but the cart had already passed along the street. The driver's attention had returned to the crowded road ahead. Janin bit into the apple, eating it quickly. A rare treat when in season, the only apples he usually saw at this time of year were wrinkled things from the last harvest. This one could taste no fresher.

His head shot up and he stuffed more apple into his mouth. Marlen had left the Guildsman. The man's head turned this way and that, checking for carts as he crossed the road. His pale blue gaze fixed firmly on the sylph beggar. Janin swallowed the last of his apple and tried to hide the first stirrings of fear. Marlen barely acknowledged the sylph as he swept past.

Janin heaved a sigh of relief. For one panicky moment, he'd believed that Marlen had come out to drag him away to torture him or worse. So far, he hoped that the men in the Guildsman had not guessed the real reason he begged here. He listened for the chimes of the nearest clock, so he knew how long Marlen had been gone. Other sylphs would see the man and report where he went, so no need for him to follow. If he started following these men everywhere, they would very quickly realize his game. He must stay put to be of use.

A couple of soldiers in the strange armor of the Vintners strolled past and one winked at the beggar. He stared at the gold dragon's head on the soldier's blue surcoat. He had heard this device called the Vintner Arms. A sylph scout walked with the soldiers.

The scout wore gray breeches and a pristine white shirt, a silver collar snug about his neck. The beggar knew the sylph must be a scout because only they wore their hair so short. Close to, without the body paint he had seen on others, he looked quite normal.

Janin admitted sylphs wearing paint intimidated him, particularly those with black slashes across face and chest. He had no idea why some scouts wore the black paint and others did not.

"Freedom or slavery?" he hissed at the scout, speaking quickly in sylph.

The Vintner armies had brought wild sylphs to Marka. Rumors abounded about this group as well. They had sparked a massive debate concerning freedom or slavery and which was best for sylphs. An argument that now raged in the camps and the city.

The scout stopped and looked down as the two soldiers walked on.

"It is our place to serve humans," he replied, earpoints slanted forwards. "Better for sylphs that way." He looked away from the beggar and shrugged before hurrying to catch up with the soldiers. Perhaps one of them was his owner.

The "freedom or slavery" question had replaced the more customary greeting between sylphs. The answer could result in a new friendship or a squabble.

Sylph slaves on their errands stared curiously at him as they passed, a few smiled if they recognized him, or if they had spoken in the past.

All asked for his opinion. All received the same answer, even those who now seemed to envy his relative freedom.

"Freedom or slavery?" a neatly-dressed male sylph asked, throwing furtive looks in all directions.

"Slavery," Janin replied, and ignored the disappointment that bloomed on the other's face. He indicated himself. "This is freedom. Hunger and dirt. I would love to have an owner."

The other sylph looked like he wanted to argue.

"We can change places if you like." Janin's eyebrows rose and his earpoints slanted forward.

The other sylph took one look at the beggar's ragged breeches and unruly hair, then hurried away.

Only infertiles still looked at him with pity. None favored freedom, or so they claimed. Perhaps some might secretly hold the opinion. They were embarrassed to see him forced to beg, while they were looked after, or pampered pets.

The Emperor would make things right for sylph beggars. Janin knew good owners would be found for them all then. He hoped they would have an Emperor again very soon.

He settled back on his blanket and crossed his legs. He watched and waited and marked off the time until Marlen returned.

***

Marlen took his time as he walked through the streets, trying not to be noticed or stand out in any way. He looked at the sylph beggars. No one pushed their luck with him and looked away the moment they realized he had nothing for them. They probably sensed he would tolerate no nonsense. Others stared as he passed, without even trying to beg. Not even a hopeful look.

The beggar outside the Guildsman never followed anybody anywhere, so Marlen ignored him. If that sylph spied for Sandev, then he could not be among her better agents.

But now, with most of the beggars paying him no mind, but a fairly significant minority _staring_ at him, suspicion surfaced in his mind. Were the beggars who just looked at him somehow connected with the creature loitering outside his lodgings? Did they belong to some sort of guild and discuss what had gone on during the day? If so, who controlled them?

Marlen's blood ran cold as he considered the beggars may have something to do with the City Guard. That the beggars might report to the _authorities_ had not occurred to him before now. Sandev had long gathered information from sylphs and other lowlifes, but if the City Guard played a part in the scheme...

His contact in the Guard – Gestlin – claimed to be unaware of any such organization, but that did not rule out its existence. Marlen had never asked, as Gestlin should volunteer the information if he knew. He'd been a fool not to think of it before now. Especially when beggars in this city were a sight better fed than in any other city Marlen had visited.

He and his companions might be in danger.

He could handle most threats from the City Guard, but he feared Sandev's intervention. He knew she rarely moved openly, as respect for her power could turn to fear, and fear changed to hate in the blink of an eye. People did not like others to have a lot more power than themselves. Such fears had caused the collapse of the first civilization.

Marlen suspected Sandev's involvement in Kelanus's escape, which in turn suggested she believed in his innocence. That meant she would be looking for the real killer. As he'd had nothing to do with Branad's murder, investigations should keep her well away from him.

Another advantage of the unasked-for killing.

The news that both Vintners' claims to the Throne had been rejected warmed him. Sandev showed no sign of countering the rumors linking Marcus to Branad's murder and that suggested her grip on the city had either slipped, or had never been very strong to begin with. Anxious to learn his former tutor's next move, he expected something ingenious. After all, Sandev had always been unpredictable. He wondered how much of his planning she already knew about. He was not so naive as to believe she remained ignorant of either his presence or his plans.

Reaching the safe house, he tapped on the door, giving the required signal. Seconds later, he was inside.

Gestlin stared at Marlen like the beggars outside before he gestured to a seat. He looked everywhere, gaze settling on nothing for long.

"I'm glad you're here," he began. "They know I'm a spy." His voice trembled.

"Are you sure?" Marlen tried a reassuring smile, which failed. His mind whirled. If someone had blown Gestlin's cover, Marlen must move before the City Guard did. A matter of survival.

Agitated, the other man squirmed in his seat. "They've not left me alone for days," he replied. "There's always someone with me on duty. They check to see I turn in, they check when I leave. They watch my home, follow me..." He saw concern blossom on Marlen's face. "I left before dawn this morning and I had no shadow. As far as I know, they're still waiting outside my digs."

Marlen relaxed, though not by much.

Gestlin continued. "It's the way people look at me, all of a sudden. The other Guardsmen, I mean. As if they know something I don't. As for Captain Crallin, he looks at me as if he's just waiting for an excuse to kill me. Get me out of the city."

Marlen took in Gestlin's panicky movements, nervous twitching and his obvious fear. It would not take much to make him talk. The man was a danger. He forced a smile.

"Soon, you won't have to worry about a thing," he promised, soothingly. He stood, crossed the short space to the other man and placed a hand on either cheek. His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "There is no need to fear." The other man stared up at him, eyes like those of a caught rabbit.

This docile, the man had definitely become a liability. A matter of survival.

With one movement, Marlen turned his hands, forcing the other man's head around, breaking his neck with a clean snap. Gestlin twitched, then lay still.

"I won't bore you with an apology." Marlen stood straight. "I know you can still hear me, but everything must be fading fast. You're lucky, Gestlin. No more pain, no more worry. Good fortune with the afterlife."

He left the house and closed the door carefully behind him. He could never return here. With luck, it would be days before they found the body.

***

Hingast and Dervra rode together, voices pitched low so those nearest could not eavesdrop. Snatches of conversation drifted back, but were swallowed by the noise of the army on the move. Although not quite at the head of the column, the army stretched for milas behind them, carrying everything it needed and leaving markers for the reinforcements to follow.

"I'm glad you decided to press ahead, Majesty," Dervra was saying. "Wise, if I may say so."

"The Markans will be terrified when they discover I'm coming for them." Hingast bared his teeth in an almost-smile.

_If they do not already know,_ reflected Dervra.

"We shall see Marka destroyed, its ground salted and people slaughtered." Bloodlust shone in Hingast's eyes. "I shall rebuild the Markan Empire as the Eldovan Empire. It will last ten thousand years and dwarf all that has gone before. It will celebrate the strong and despise the weak. It..."

"Yes, Majesty." Dervra let the other man's blather wash over him. _It will be built on the natural order, blah, blah..._ He tried not to laugh in the idiot's face.

"When the city falls, will we have time to destroy it before the Vintners can regroup and send reinforcements?"

"We will, Majesty. Re Taura will have its army ready by next summer and rumors of its size will soon spread in Trenvera, Sandester and Calcan. Fear of invasion from the east will keep those reinforcements small, if they come at all."

"Re Taura." Hingast's voice went flat. "I do not want to destroy one power in the east to see it replaced by another."

"The Mametain's interests do not lie in empire building, Majesty." Dervra resisted telling the fool that sooner or later new powers always filled vacuums.

"Good. Any thoughts about countering these sylph scouts Marcus Vintner is using?"

Dervra raised an eyebrow. "Potential meat for your sport."

"Is that a rebuke? I seem to recall you suggested sylph hunting."

"I realize Your Majesty feels frustration that we have encountered no wild sylphs to hunt."

"I expect they stay away from the army. But the scouts. There must be some way of countering them. Aren't they supposed to be timid creatures? Are they trained to overcome their fear? What _does_ frighten them?"

"Hunters, I imagine." Dervra smiled. Better not goad too much.

"Enough have managed to escape me. They are clearly cunning and resourceful, traits I have no doubt Marcus Vintner has exploited to the full in his sylphs."

Movement caught Hingast's attention and he watched a small infertile, probably with a message, veering in a wider than necessary arc to avoid one of the warhorses. She pattered past him, quite deliberately refusing to meet his gaze, her earpoints wilted. Realization brought a grunt.

"Dervra!" he hissed. "The sylphs are wary of the horses."

"What of it?"

"I think we have found a counter to sylph scouts."

Dervra masked a sigh. "I am sure any sylph running with the Vintners is trained to overcome fear of horses. As far as I'm aware, they only refuse to come close to large animals, rather than actually being frightened of them."

"So what if large, or largish, animals came to them? Chased them, in fact. Such as dogs."

"Dogs." Dervra considered. "Hunting dogs, excellent sense of smell, trained to hunt and flush out sylphs. Even if they're not scared of the dogs, having their whereabouts highlighted will definitely be of use."

Hingast nodded. "I thought so too. When we pass through the next place, try and acquire some dogs."

"I think we may be too late for that," countered Dervra. "We'll reach Marka in weeks."

Hingast sighed. He hated people who became troublesome or obstructionist. "Just do it, Dervra," he commanded.

***

He did not like coming to this place. He much preferred the boisterousness of the Senate, where sycophants and minions were prepared to do his bidding. For many years, he had represented the Malefic Sephiroth's interests in Marka and had been left in peace to get on with it. Over the last year, much had changed for the worse. The risks he took were calculated and well-rehearsed, with plenty of escape routes should anything go wrong.

Until now.

For the past few months he had been the pawn, moved according to others' wishes and – he hoped! – their well-thought-out plans. He was now expendable, just as those who served him were expendable. Disposable assets were sometimes sacrificed for the greater good of the majority. He now feared sudden arrest and execution instead of being the one pulling the strings. He could not get used to it. And he did not like it.

His situation began to change when a man came seeking a reference to enable him to join the City Guard. He carried a letter commanding him to do everything requested. The keywords used in the letter marked the stranger as one who obeyed the orders of one very high among the Malefic Sephiroth's servants, possibly even Dervra himself. He'd directed one of his underlings to provide the necessary reference. Once Gestlin had established himself, he had lost control over who came into or left the city.

Now the City Guard watched Gestlin and if they put him to the question, who might be betrayed? Questioners were allegedly forbidden from using physical torture in Marka, but the City Guard's interrogators had far more subtle methods at their disposal.

Ten days ago, the summonings to this place began. The crippled woman inside, arrogant and demanding, forced him to her will. Worse, she seemed to be some sort of sorcerer and used her power to prove he stood far beneath her. That he was nothing more than a piece of dirt. Quite ironic, considering every time he came here, the smell had grown worse. The sorcerer stank and she didn't even seem to care.

He wanted his control back.

He tapped on the door quietly; as always, it swung open silently and closed behind him. To think what caused the door to move at all without anyone there brought a small shiver.

The woman, dressed in the same filthy rags, focused her jet eyes on him. Those eyes were bright and sharp, even if she reclined on a stained, rancid bed. Her long brown hair flowed around her. If she ever took a bath, she would be pretty and, if not for her affliction, could easily attract a husband. He had only seen her crawl once, when she had proved her power to him. He tried not to choke in the stench of the room. The sun heated the building, yet no window stood open. His shoes stuck to the scrap of floor covering and he tried not to look down. How could anyone live like this?

"You are here. Good." The melodious voice washed over him.

"Yes, lady."

A small smile turned her mouth for a brief moment; doubtless she enjoyed hearing one with power and breeding grovel to her. "I have work for you."

He didn't groan, though he wanted to. Work for him usually brought with it great risk. He had fallen far in a short space of time.

"We are pleased with your success in turning the Senate against both Vintners," she continued.

_We?_ he wondered.

"There is still much to do." The woman's jet eyes bored into him. "The recognition of the Throne must be overturned."

"But it is again recognized," he spluttered. "Such decisions cannot be overturned."

The woman struggled more upright and anger danced in her eyes. "Article Twelve of the Ascension of Ethwar Vintner to the Markan Throne in Eight-oh-One."

He stared and searched his memory for the relevant law. "That the Throne must be occupied for it to be recognized; that an occupant takes it within one calendar month of recognition after an interregnum."

A smile touched the woman's lips as she settled back again. "Good boy."

It was all he could do not to grind his teeth in frustration. How did she know about the Law, and be able to recall it so easily? He was surprised she could read, let alone study books and laws. And how could he turn against the recognition of the Throne after fighting so hard to get it recognized?

"I do not think we need to overturn the recognition," he said. "The claims of both Vintners have been rejected. Unless the Supreme Council decides to summon Hingast or Enthan, the Throne will fall void."

The woman leaned forward again after short pause.

"Best that it does. The Supreme Councilor is wily and cunning. He has more tricks up his sleeve; you may be forced to question his intentions when he makes his next move."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"You question me." Again, her eyes blazed with anger.

He inclined his head. "Forgive me, lady, if I offend. However, for me to counter what the Supreme Councilor plans, I need to know what that is." If she knew, how did she come by her intelligence?

The anger subsided. "I do not know what he plans."

"Hingast?"

"Do not be foolish. The Senate would never accept him."

"Have you no thoughts on what his plan might be?"

"We will find out tomorrow, along with everybody else. However, you must be prepared to stop any new contenders and, if necessary, remove them altogether."

He shuddered. Removal meant elimination. "As you command, lady, so do I obey."

The sorcerer's eyes bored into his own. "Ensure that you do," she hissed.

***

The moment the visitor left, Nicolfer ensured the room returned to normal and her appearance improved beyond recognition. Those who knew of her believed that they knew her well. She would argue that they knew her not at all. She had never been credited with some of the talents bestowed by the Gift and her detractors conveniently overlooked that sorcery allowed anyone to plug gaps in their knowledge.

She needed no concentration to replace dirt with cleanliness, gloom with light, threadbare furnishings with opulence. A delightful, airy room, scented with spring blossoms and a delicate breeze invited within by the open windows.

Most important of all, it took no concentration to show her true self: a young woman with considerable beauty. Certainly no dirt. Most importantly, she could stand and walk.

The fools truly believed that she had no way of repairing the damage done to her so long ago, that she could no longer walk. She only needed concentrate to hold the _false_ images in place, such as the appearance of squalor and dirt.

She left her living room and made her way to the cellar. Dirt and gloom and dinginess were found here in equal measure. The sinabra she could normally tolerate had grown stronger. She must get this cellar cleaned out. From one corner, the sylph looked up from his ragged blanket, misery painting his face. The restraining chain clinked as he shifted, his earpoints wilted.

"Hello Tangan," she greeted him. "Are you ready for your next lesson?"

As she came closer, his misery changed to fear. He wasn't learning; she might have to find a different way.

Or a different sylph.

***

Sandev rolled the small stones around the palm of her hand. Almost perfectly spherical, she kept hundreds of them a small box. To the uninitiated, they looked innocuous, perhaps even pretty. Each could hold as much power by itself as Sandev. They had been used to increase strength when the first civilization collapsed. Known as foci, they had proved a nasty surprise to more than one practitioner. By agreement, the Ten – even Dervra and Nicolfer – hunted down and destroyed every focus they could find. The things were too dangerous to leave lying around. Fortunately, the knowledge of making them had died with Theret.

Whereas others of the Ten destroyed foci they discovered, Sandev collected them. Each stone would hold enough power to help her physically project a thousand people from one place to another. If Hingast _was_ heading here, Sandev would far rather move the population of Marka than leave them to his not-so-tender mercies. The man's reputation preceded him.

Hingast had made it difficult for a large army to reach Eldova by laying waste to all lands surrounding his own. The people were carried off as slave farmers or slave soldiers, or murdered. The destroyed lands were littered with the bones of thousands of people. None were now cultivated, so any approaching army had nothing to forage.

She would not allow such massacres in Marka. Neither could she simply destroy these small stones, potential saviors of her people. She needed almost two hundred foci and she could charge perhaps two a day if she pushed herself. At the moment, she managed one a day. And that assumed the last census – almost a century past – remained accurate.

The man she would visit tonight, the man whose alliance she sought, would not approve of her keeping the foci. She risked losing his support forever if he learned she had broken that compact.

Again, Caya had chosen to sleep elsewhere. Sandev understood why the sylph wanted to stay away.

This man would not be as easy to deal with as Sernan. He had vowed never to return to Marka, but she needed his assistance. Two of the Ten were needed against two and she had nobody else to help.

It would be daybreak at his home. Smiling, she pictured his cottage, a pretty limewashed stone dwelling, surrounded by forest and flowers and peace and... and ilven.

He had always intrigued the sisters, so a couple were usually with him. The Father knew how much she needed an ilven now! Olista had failed to acquire one and Sandev knew an ilven must attach herself to Marcus Vintner to help press his claim. Her presence would carry much weight with doubters, it always did. With luck, one of the sisters would be there.

How long since she had last seen him? A hundred years? More? Probably more. The years passed quickly, or so it seemed.

Sandev closed her eyes and concentrated on the garden outside his cottage.

Dew immediately began to soak her slippers and she wished she had changed into sturdier footwear. She opened her eyes as she heard something thud to the ground and a sharp increase of breath, a yelp of fear cut short.

A sylph bent hastily to gather her foragings and push them back into the wooden bucket she had dropped. Her earpoints were bolt upright and her silvery gray eyes almost completely round in terror. Sandev could see the whites and the minuscule blue blood vessels that fed the eye.

She'd forgotten that he also liked the company of sylphs.

"Don't be frightened." Sandev tried to smile, but she only managed a twist of her mouth, which doubtless terrified the sylph further. "I won't hurt you. What's your name, little one?" She hoped speaking in sylph would help calm the creature down.

"I... I am Salu." The sylph smiled. " _Donanya._ "

"I am Sandev."

The sylph looked more surprised. "Sandev- _ya_?" Her fear eased visibly, though wariness still shone in her eyes.

"Yes."

" _Enya_ has spoken of you." The sylph looked as if she stared at a legend.

Sandev could not disguise a delighted grin, now that more and more of her senses returned. This little snippet had just made her life a great deal easier. "Well, Salu, I am here now. Shall we play a little game?"

Salu's eyes lit.

Sandev dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't tell him I'm here. Bring him outside and let me surprise him. Like I surprised you."

The sylph grinned and nodded. She disappeared inside at a run.

Moving quickly, Sandev moved across the garden and hid behind some roses, still able to see the door. She stilled a delighted grin and felt young again. Moments later, she heard a familiar voice.

"What's gone with you, Salu? It's too early for games. All right, I'm coming!"

The door opened and Sandev had to restrain herself from leaping forward.

He had hardly changed. Short, barely taller than most women, stocky. Silver hair hinted at great age; he was already old when the Father had granted His Gift, but his eyes were as piercing as ever.

"I hope you've not dragged me out here for nothing, Salu."

"It's a surprise for you!" The sylph danced around him, but the sparkle began to fade from her eyes.

Sandev stepped out into full view.

"Still grumpy as ever, Grayar." She smiled at him.

Grayar's expression changed from exasperation to astonishment to pleasure in less than a heartbeat. "Sandev!" He even managed a rare smile, a small miracle in itself. "Come inside. Inside with you. You've arrived just in time for breakfast."

Sandev stepped forward. Most of her worries dissolved, as always when in Grayar's company. "You do know I'm here asking for help."

A shadow flickered in his blue eyes. "Eat first. Talk later. Salu, you come inside too. Troubled times are upon us again."

***
**Chapter 11**

Manumission

Senate Leader Lanas stared in consternation at Supreme Councilor Olista. His speedwell gaze, still disbelieving, turned to Zenepha. The sylph's silvery gray eyes were calm and his earpoints stood upright to show he, at least, felt perfectly at ease.

"You want what, Supreme Councilor?" asked Lanas, as if he had not heard properly the first time. He looked at Zenepha as he spoke, but his attention then returned to the Supreme Councilor.

Olista smiled. "I'm here to ask the Senate to manumit my slave."

"To manumit Zenepha." Lanas shook his head.

A murmur of confusion rumbled around the Senate. People often brought human slaves before the Senate for manumission, to ensure that the slave's freedom was recognized, but a sylph had never stood before them. Rules about humans and slavery were very different from those concerning sylphs.

"That's right." Olista nodded. "To manumit Zenepha."

"Have you fallen to the madness sweeping the city?"

"Of course not."

They had the wild sylphs to thank for the madness Lanas referred to. The wild ones could not understand how their city-dwelling cousins tolerated their low status. Most city sylphs feared freedom, but some now questioned their collars. For the moment only a few, but once an idea took hold, it could gain its own momentum and turn into an unstoppable force.

Olista's request might add fuel to the idea, but that was a problem for another day.

Lanas turned to Zenepha. "Have you?"

The sylph almost gaped at the question and quickly shook his head.

"You ask us to manumit a sylph born to, and intended for, slavery," continued the Senate Leader. "I'm not sure we can legally do such a thing."

"Nothing in Markan Law says that all sylphs must be slaves," countered Olista. "And there's nothing to say manumission cannot be granted."

"Our predecessors drafted the law for human slaves." Lanas's expression almost dared Olista to argue.

"But the law does not specify human slaves." Olista smiled. "More particularly, it does not exclude sylphs."

"Because it is taken as read that sylphs are slaves," protested the Senate Leader.

"It is assumed," agreed Olista, "but not stated. Legally, sylphs can be manumitted because nothing says they can't be. Do not forget that the rights and customs of the wild sylph tribes are enshrined in Law. If their freedom is assured, it must be accepted it is possible to manumit civilized sylphs."

Lanas sighed. "Wild sylphs' freedom is assured, but Zenepha is not a wild sylph. And the law clearly states the Senate must hear manumissions before approval. And we are unlikely to agree to this sylph's manumission, despite the words of a vociferous minority of outlanders."

Olista almost retorted that if a vociferous minority became a vociferous majority, the Senate might be in trouble. "Nothing in law says only humans may have their manumissions read in the Senate; neither does it state that a committee need vet them first. Accept or reject."

Lanas shook his head. "Most manumissions are for criminals who have completed their service early. After Helena, you should know that."

"Most is not all, Senator Lanas. The law does not exist for that reason."

"We will not approve this manumission."

"Why not?"

"Because it is the place of sylphs to be slaves."

Olista assumed an innocent expression. "Really? So you approve of sending slave raiders against the free tribes? You are about to enslave them?"

"Do not be ridiculous," snorted Lanas. "As you have pointed out, their rights are enshrined in Law. I refer to civilized sylphs, born to slavery, raised as slaves and who know nothing but servitude. What good will freedom do Zenepha?"

The sylph almost nodded agreement. The Senate did not know why Olista wanted to manumit him; it would like the reason even less than he did. All he wanted was to serve his master and owner.

He had no interest in the discussion between sylphs who wanted to stay as they were and those who wanted freedom. He suspected owners feared that more than sylphs intended to debate it. The owners feared their property might suddenly and collectively demand freedom.

Zenepha doubted that would happen and suspected most sylphs would ultimately reject the idea.

Olista took Zenepha's left arm and pushed up his shirtsleeve. "See this?" He indicated the tattoo of many straight black lines. "Do you understand its significance?"

A low murmur ran around the Senate.

Olista nodded and continued. "Of course you do. This sylph is from the Key. We don't know if he was born into slavery, or sold into it. We don't even know for sure that sylphs _are_ slaves within the Key."

Lanas stared at the tattoo until Olista released Zenepha's arm. The sylph carefully pushed his sleeve back into place.

"Well?" demanded the Senate Leader. "Were you born to slavery or sold into it?"

Zenepha, who had not expected to be included in this human ritual, shrugged. "I have no memory from the Key."

"Convenient."

"My memories were stolen," protested the sylph. "I would have them back now, if I could."

"You remember nothing of the Key."

A senator came to the rescue. "This problem is common in sylphs from the Key," he said, hands gripping the chair before him. "Few have any memory of before they were sold outside and even then memories are vague."

Olista did not turn his head to know that one of his supporters had just spoken. _I wonder if Trinitan will still be a supporter when he hears the rest of it_. The Supreme Councilor interrupted quickly, before the debate got sidetracked. "If we cannot prove either way whether or not Zenepha was born into slavery, the Senate must recognize that it is possible to manumit him."

"I remain unconvinced," retorted Lanas.

_It is quite all right_ , thought Zenepha, _leave me as a slave. I am happy with my owner and do not know how to cope with responsibilities the free must shoulder. Leave things exactly as they are._

He stayed silent.

"I want his manumission read," insisted Olista. "As is my right and my slave's privilege."

"Read it," called out an anonymous voice. "If the Supreme Councilor wishes to release his slave, let him."

Lanas spluttered. "We still have the boy's welfare to consider," he protested. "How will Zenepha make a living? How will he earn enough to feed himself, never mind his wife? How –"

"With respect," interrupted Olista, "but that is between him and me. I have employment for him that demands a freeman for its role."

Zenepha almost turned to stare at his owner and his earpoints lashed in agitation. Given the events over the past few weeks, he felt surprised nobody guessed which job his owner hinted at. Then again, _that_ was too preposterous for anyone to think up by themselves.

"You have no legal right to delay these proceedings any longer." Olista was gentle. "Read his manumission."

Lanas shook his head. "Very well." He turned and laid a hand on Zenepha's head. "Zenepha- _y_ -Olista, by the authority vested in me as Leader of the Senate, for the Greater Glory of the Supreme Designer and Being Divine, I hereby manumit you from bondage and slavery. You will keep the name Zenepha- _y_ -Olista, as you know no other. But from this day, you are free." He took his hand away and glared at Olista. "I hope you've not condemned this boy to a life of poverty."

Olista smiled, reached into his robe, and passed a parchment across. "Since the Senate rejected the other claimants to the Throne, the Supreme Council recommends this person to act as Emperor as a temporary measure. A caretaker, if you like."

Lanas's face darkened as he scanned the parchment. "You have tricked me!" he hissed, looking up again. "A slave cannot be Emperor!"

Olista inclined his head and lowered his voice so only the Senate Leader could hear. "He's not a slave, you just manumitted him. I leave you to debate the Supreme Council's recommendation." About to leave, he paused and raised his voice. "I also inform you that, should you defy the Supreme Council once again, the Senate will be dissolved. Good day, gentlemen. Come, Zenepha."

"What's wrong?" asked one of the senators.

Lanas glared at Olista's back as he left the Senate, Zenepha in tow.

The Leader turned back to face the senators. "The Supreme Council have recommended Zenepha- _y_ -Olista to take the Throne."

A horrified silence met his words, broken only when somebody laughed. "A sylph as Emperor," gurgled the laughing senator. "Brilliant; quite brilliant!"

***

"They'll never go for it," said Zenepha, as he and his former master left the calm of the coronation building for the bustle of Marka's streets. "They'll never want me."

"Why not?" retorted Olista. "If they reject it, we'll just do without the Senate until after you've been recognized and then reform it again."

"Can you do that?" The sylph sounded troubled.

"If you'd read those books properly, you'd know there are precedents."

"With civil war following."

"How do you think historians will view what's happening now throughout what used to be the Markan Empire? When they write Volume Eighteen, it'll be as if those Prefectures were never independent. Just because blood isn't running through Marka's streets, it doesn't mean there is no fighting at all."

"And if the Empire does not rise again?"

"All things demand a certain level of risk." Olista smiled. "And I take only calculated risks. Don't forget if the Throne falls into abeyance, Marcus and Verdin Vintner will leave and we'll be naked to Hingast's bloodlust. He _is_ coming."

"How can I stop them leaving?" Zenepha felt a twinge of fear at Hingast's name.

"By your choice of advisors. Our sources have been busy since the Vintner armies began camping outside the gates and we've gleaned some excellent intelligence. Even better, I know just the place to share it with you."

Now spring had taken charge of the weather, people could eat outdoors and Olista guided his erstwhile slave to a quiet corner of the small eatery, where they were unlikely to be overheard. The entire front of the building stood open, with tables and chairs set outside. Olista ordered for them both.

The girl who served the Supreme Councilor gave Zenepha a level look, as if surprised to see a sylph eating with freemen. Her eyes widened when she noted the lack of collar. With a clatter of ankle bells, she pattered back inside.

Zenepha watched her go and sighed. This did not feel natural. He thought the other customers watched him, though when he looked around, nobody paid him any mind at all. Just a sense of strangeness he hoped he could quickly leave behind.

"You were going to advise me on a choice of advisors," he prompted, once alovak was served. He inhaled its rich aroma and grumbled. "The bean smells much better. Sylphs prefer water."

"Try the alovak," suggested Olista. "You might like it."

" _Se bata_."

Olista laughed. "No need for that," he said.

The sylph managed a wan smile. "It will take getting used to," he replied. "I feel undressed." He stroked his neck where, until less than an hour before, a collar had been fastened. "Missing it already." He managed to give Olista a reproachful look with his silvery gray eyes and his earpoints twitched backwards once. He changed the subject. "Advisors."

Olista nodded. "One from each of the factions," he said, "even the one supporting Hingast. Whoever you appoint will doubtless be a spy – they'll all be spies for someone or other, for that matter – but best to be as inclusive as possible. I speak only about political advisors."

"And military advisors?"

Olista gave the sylph a broad smile. "I'm glad you appear to have read those books after all. Involve the outlanders as much as possible. Try not to tread on Captain Crallin's toes too much. He's an excellent commander of the City Guard, but I suspect his siege craft will prove inadequate. And he is not politically minded."

_Like me._ Zenepha already had several names in mind. "You are aware that I want you to be an advisor?"

"Thought you might." Olista smiled. "As Supreme Councilor, it's part of my job to advise you. Behind the scenes, I'm quite happy to be more than that for you." He turned as the serving girl left the building, bells jangling. "Here's our snack."

Zenepha looked down at the mixed fruit and vegetables set down before him. He had never felt so small in his life. "They'll never accept me," he whispered.

Olista leaned forward. "Come, come!" he chided. "Let me tell you something. People see what they expect to see. If you keep that attitude, they'll see a manumitted slave on a Throne intended for humans. Change that attitude to one of command and they will follow. Seize the initiative; keep those in positions of authority or power too busy to see anything other than the Emperor doing what he should. Once Hingast is defeated, everybody'll see the Emperor, not a sylph."

"Hingast might defeat _us_."

"Then it won't matter what people think; we'll all be dead or worse."

Zenepha looked unconvinced. "What about the other Prefects?" he asked. "They might not accept me."

"Leave things as they are for now. The two Vintner armies can be used as a lever against the other Prefectures. Remember Hingast is our first worry as he can't be too far away. And there are other things you must do."

The sylph twitched his earpoints, but said nothing.

Olista continued. "The system of measurements must be standardized again. Length, area, weight and volume. We have more different coins and weights of coin and clippings of coin than ever before and people are sometimes overcharged for goods and services. That needs sorting."

"Why has it not been done?"

Olista looked at his sylph in surprise. "There was me thinking you'd read those books properly after all, then you go and prove me wrong. Oh well." He shook his head and prepared to launch into a lecture.

Zenepha stalled him. "Only the Emperor has the authority to allow these things," he whispered. "Marka still uses her old measures, but the Prefectures have gone their own way."

Olista allowed a tight smile for a brief moment. "While we're discussing the Prefectures, once it's known that Marka has an Emperor again, it'll be interesting to see how many return to the fold."

"Or are driven further away, knowing they are ruled by a slave." Zenepha sounded bitter and his earpoints wilted.

"Will you stop doing yourself down? You're more intelligent than many humans I know."

"I feel better already." Sarcasm laced the sylph's voice.

"You know more of how Marka ticks, and of the Supreme Council and Senate, than most others will ever learn. I'll teach you how to play one faction off against another, how to make alliances and forge partnerships with the right people at the right time." Olista smiled again. "They'll be telling stories about you centuries from now, of how a sylph ruled an empire and changed human perceptions of your race forever."

Zenepha was wide-eyed. "Assuming the Senate accepts your recommendation, they'll call me Zenepha the Unwilling."

Olista took a large swallow of alovak and all traces of humor disappeared. "When Hingast gets here, I hope they don't name you Zenepha the Unready."

***

"This recommendation holds surprising merit."

Senator Elvert Nerrit was a strong advocate for Verdin Vintner. He preferred to ignore the inconvenience of Branad's renunciation of the claim in favor of Marcus Vintner.

Now Olista had left, the Senate debated the Supreme Council's latest recommendation. The threat of dissolution had shocked most senators and now hung over them. A threat never used in living memory.

Elvert continued to speak. "We know that of the factions in the Senate only two have a winning chance. Both are evenly balanced. Whatever the rights and wrongs of the various claimants, we know there can be no outright winner at the moment. A caretaker Emperor is a good idea; a sylph caretaker Emperor is superbly astute."

"How so?" asked Lanas, who still felt tricked. "It's ridiculous."

"Let us suppose that we put a senator on the Throne, or even the Supreme Councilor. Does anybody believe he would surrender that power in favor of someone with a genuine claim to the Throne?" Elvert looked around the chamber while he paused. "A sylph would be more than happy to surrender it. None crave power and, if one has power, is glad to be rid of it. It's not in sylph nature to rule as they are neither raised nor trained for it. All reasons why I'm happy to support the motion."

"Excuses, not reasons," snorted Senator Cleran. "Just another ruse to block the true Emperor from his birthright. We rejected two false claimants; we should invite the genuine man to take his rightful place."

Cleran, a supporter of Enthan of the Imperial Republic, was quickly shouted down.

"We should accept the Supreme Council's recommendation!" shouted another senator. "We need an Emperor, even if he is a sylph."

"We'll be the laughing stock of the continent," muttered Lanas, sourly. "A sylph as Emperor; they'll think we've lost our senses. And they would be right."

More and more senators joined in the debate, with even the Leader having problems keeping order. Arguments and counterarguments raged for almost an hour, before Lanas managed to regain control.

"Look at the situation," pointed out Senator Elvert, carefully. "If we deny the Supreme Council its will again, we'll be dissolved and the sylph becomes Emperor. The Senate would be reformed immediately afterward I expect, but we'll lose our influence. We'll certainly lose privileges fought for and won over the last millennium and a half. If we _do_ accept the recommendation, the sylph will need advice and he'll gladly accept our guidance. Siranva knows he'll need all he can get."

"We already know who pulls that sylph's strings," countered Cleran. "He is Olista's creature eartip to toenail."

"Fine." Elvert stared at Cleran with barely suppressed irritation. "Go ahead. Reject the recommendation and lose all influence you might ever have. Let Olista lead the sylph by his ears to whatever disaster follows the Senate's dissolution.

"Alternatively, you can have _some_ influence over the Emperor, some balance against the Supreme Councilor, if not the Supreme Council itself. Some influence, or none at all. That's our choice. Which way do we want it? We must vote on this recommendation." He raised his voice. "I move that we vote this afternoon."

Cleran stared at Elvert for a long moment. "You're right," he said, eventually. "Much as I hate to admit it, you are right."

Lanas sighed. "Very well. The motion is that we vote to support the recommendation of the Supreme Council, that Zenepha- _y_ -Olista be elevated to Emperor of the Markan Empire, to act as caretaker until a human candidate may be selected. Do I have a seconder?"

More than one senator wondered why Lanas suddenly seemed pale.

***

Belaika suppressed a smile as he glanced at Jenn. He and Eleka sat cross-legged with their daughters between them. Sylphs grew quickly, but he still felt surprised how much the two youngsters had changed in the few moons since he had last seen them.

Eleka also watched Jenn. Breeding sylphs usually ignored infertiles, except while they were still dependent, but nobody could treat Marcus Vintner's personal slave that badly.

Everybody spoke to Jenn as an equal, to avoid embarrassing Marcus, but nobody regarded her as one. Eleka tolerated Jenn's friendship with her husband, probably because it could never grow into more than that. But no more than tolerance.

For her part, Jenn pointedly ignored Eleka's extended stomach, whether through squeamishness or jealousy was unclear.

The sylphs sat in customary silence in the outer room of Marcus's tent, while their owner played in the inner room with his family. Zandra visited each day with the children, doubtless trying to persuade Marcus to move into the city.

From the inner tent, murmurs reached the sylphs' long ears. Marcus obviously loved to spend time with his children – three girls and a boy, the boy the same age as Eleka's twin daughters.

Belaika always felt sorry for Jenn when Zandra and her children were with Marcus. He gave Jenn and her wilted earpoints a sympathetic look. She did not enjoy being pushed aside, no matter how gently done.

Jenn had served Marcus for a quarter of a century and, until quite recently, had enjoyed his exclusive attention. Which was now lavished on Zandra and the children.

She competed assiduously for a slice of his time and even tried to out-child his children. Even when out of Marcus's presence – as now – she refused to be far away. But she would not dare intrude on private moments.

"Jenn!"

At the sound of Marcus's voice, her earpoints came upright. She bounded to her feet and disappeared into the inner tent.

Belaika could not prevent a delighted laugh. "All of a sudden she's happy again."

Eleka had little interest in Jenn's state of mind. "So foolish. As if _enya_ would abandon her." She sniffed and changed the subject. "How long before you must return to the field? We should be together when I birth."

Belaika gave his wife's hand a squeeze. " _Enya_ says he wants me at his side for the foreseeable future." He smiled reassuringly. "I will be there."

The female sylph smiled and nodded. "You might be sent out again."

The guard interrupted and announced Messenger Felis. The young man entered and smiled at the sylphs. He bent down to tickle one of the small girls under her chin. Her eyes showed delight and a blue hand grasped at the human's fingers.

" _Enya_ ," called Belaika. "Messenger Felis."

"Send him straight in," called Marcus from the inner tent.

"Something is going on," whispered Eleka. "He is expected."

Rarely privy to his master's actions and decisions, Belaika shrugged. He started as the guard called out again.

"General Ranallic."

The southerner gave a quick nod to the sylphs, but his expression remained carefully neutral. Caralin, oldest of the Vintner children, left the compartment, carrying her brother and leading her two sisters. The two sylphs exchanged a look.

"He wants you to stay, Icca," she said to the scout, using the family's pet name for him. She turned to Eleka. "He wants you to come with us."

Eleka and her husband exchanged a look, before she gathered her daughters and followed the Vintner children from the tent.

"Belaika!" Marcus called to his scout.

The sylph rose smoothly to his feet and entered the inner compartment of the tent. Zandra sat beside Marcus and Jenn crouched at his feet, one hand resting on his knee. Now the children were gone, the small sylph looked much happier. Felis looked uncomfortable. Only General Ranallic looked at ease.

" _Enya?_ "

Marcus smiled. "I need to see some people now. Will you round them up?"

Belaika nodded and looked quickly at Felis. Wasn't he the messenger? It didn't matter, his master probably had a perfectly good reason to send a sylph instead.

"Mansard, Bascon, Verdin Vintner and Mikhan."

Belaika's earpoints twitched in surprise and he glanced at Jenn, who returned his gaze, hardly able to conceal excitement. She looked wide-awake and thrilled. Almost as if the message was the most important news ever. He met his owner's eyes.

" _Se bata_."

Belaika kept running through the list in his head. Illiterate like most sylphs, he must memorize every instruction. He did not go far to reach the first: he lived in the neighboring tent.

The guard outside that tent announced the sylph and Belaika entered with trepidation. Branad's widows were within and both pairs of eyes augured relentlessly into him. They were there allegedly to sort out Branad's belongings before returning to their new lodgings in Marka, but the sylph's eye saw no sign of activity.

He suspected that they blamed him for their husband's premature death. Or perhaps they blamed him as the representative of his owner. Either way, he felt uncomfortable under their combined gaze. After all, he had been in the tent at the time of Branad's murder.

A girl of marriageable age sat beside a younger sister, the latter about the same age as Marcus's oldest daughter. Two more girls, little more than toddlers, played at the feet of the younger widow. Verdin Vintner, a man quite entitled to lay claim to the Markan Throne, sat slightly apart, nose buried in a book. He looked up and smiled at the sylph.

Belaika bowed his head. " _Enya_ requests your presence." He tried to ignore the women's cold, accusing eyes.

Verdin nodded. "I will come now."

"Where is Marshal Mikhan- _ya_?"

"With the horses, probably."

Belaika found Mikhan exactly where Verdin suggested and again relayed his owner's instructions. The old marshal merely nodded acceptance, picked up his sword and began to walk uphill to Marcus's tent. The sylph now needed to find only two more. He was delayed slightly by one of the wild sylphs, who wanted to know if he had given the previous evening's discussion any thought.

Belaika, who had given no thought to the argument that he should be free and proud, muttered what he hoped was a polite response as he extricated himself and hurried away.

He found Mansard, Bascon at his side, watching men practice their swords. These last two accompanied him back to his master's tent.

"What's going on?" asked Mansard.

Belaika had no answer and shrugged.

The last to arrive, the tent looked full when they entered, even with the dividing wall rolled up. There was little hint of domesticity.

Belaika and Bascon crossed the tent to crouch beside Jenn, who had already laid out the required number of cups of alovak. The infertile, still excited by something, smiled a brief welcome to her superiors. They grinned back and waited for the meeting to begin.

Marcus Vintner cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, thank you for attending at such short notice, but Messenger Felis has been given some very interesting news."

Felis, sweating in all this distinguished company, stared at a small patch of canvas in the tent wall. "This afternoon, the Senate of Marka accepted the recommendation of the Supreme Council to place a caretaker Emperor on the Throne. The candidate was Zenepha- _y_ -Olista and he is, as I speak, being declared in the streets."

Mansard and Mikhan exchanged glances. "A sylph?" asked Mansard.

Belaika and Bascon's eyes widened and even Jenn, who had already heard the news, managed to look surprised. Zandra watched everybody discreetly, though only the sylphs noticed she watched for reactions.

"You are disappointed, General Ranallic?" she asked.

"Yes," replied the southlander, dark eyes glittering. "I had hoped to serve the first proper Emperor of Marka."

Zandra's eyes narrowed. Belaika wondered why so few people actually liked Ranallic. Perhaps his manner annoyed them.

"We must deal with facts gentlemen, not hopes and dreams," said Marcus. "The fact is that this sylph has been elevated and we've been invited to join him this evening."

"We?" queried Mikhan.

"Our new Emperor believes we may be of service to him. It would be churlish to abandon Marka now we know Hingast is coming. You should note that his title is _caretaker_ , suggesting impermanence." Marcus looked around at everyone in his tent. His gaze softened as he looked at Belaika and Bascon. "He also asked for some sylph scouts to attend. In the absence of Tynrasa and Neptarik, you two will do. Best clothes and decorations, please. Jenn, you may carry parchments and inkwells, which will be needed. Understood?"

The three sylphs replied as one. " _Se bata_."

"Is the meeting at the imperial palace?" asked Mansard.

"No, in the coronation building."

"If I may say, Majesty," said Verdin, "this is a golden opportunity to exploit."

"Agreed." Marcus smiled at the first properly positive reaction he had yet heard. "Played correctly, we can turn it to our advantage. Now, I believe that the Supreme Councilor really controls this new Emperor..."

Zandra watched, and listened.

***

In the Senate, all attention centered on Zenepha. Once he took the Throne, he could not enter this room until he ceased to reign and must instead summon senators. He was here now to appoint his advisors. Names of some suitable senators – one from each of the main factions – had been suggested. Two City Guardsmen were with the sylph, presumably as protection. Olista also stood at his side, helping to stiffen the sylph's resolve.

Zenepha glanced at the ceiling and wondered why the builders hadn't vaulted it, like Coronation Hall. Then he remembered the offices above.

"Senator Lanas." Zenepha's voice almost squeaked, pitched higher than normal, another sign of his nervousness. The most powerful humans in Marka were now expected to bow and scrape to him! It wasn't right, the natural order had been turned on its head. Sylphs served humans, not the other way about. He...

He steeled himself.

This must be done for the good of humans _and_ sylphs. His master – former master – believed in him. Sandev believed in him and she must be the wisest human alive.

"Yes, Majesty?" The Senate Leader stumbled over the second word.

"Your first task is to appoint a sanctum of senators to act as my ministers." Zenepha paused, hoping he didn't miss anything from his list. "There are several areas and each requires a senator to act as minister. Crime, War, Expansion, Exchequer, Employment, Guilds, Diplomacy, Justice and Distribution. You will tell me who will form your inner sanctum tomorrow morning and then you will report to me daily until I tell you to come at less frequent intervals."

"Majesty." Lanas bowed.

"There will be a prime minister in addition to these nine, entitled Principal Chancellor. He will have the power to appoint any senator to, or dismiss him from, the nine ministerial posts. Senator Lanas, you shall be my first Principal Chancellor." Zenepha managed a smile for the Senate Leader, though his earpoints lay back in his hair.

"Majesty, I accept this great honor."

An excited chatter broke out among the senators.

"I gave you some names!" Olista hissed through his teeth, all the time trying to convey a mood of genial joviality.

Zenepha shrugged. "Must leave them something to do," he said, keeping his voice low. He returned his attention to the Senate and waited for silence. "Although the Supreme Council advises the Emperor, I cannot lose contact with the wishes and desires of the people of our city, so I intend to appoint five senators as advisors in addition to those tradition demands."

A murmur again rose in the assembly. Olista dared not breathe. His biggest gamble: an attempt to unite all the factions.

"Five factions vie to ensure their candidate is accepted for the Throne of Marka. So each division is represented, I will appoint five advisors. These appointments exist for one year only and are renewable at my discretion. The Supreme Council has made recommendations." Zenepha wondered how he managed to hold his voice so steady. He was a sylph, not a human ruler! "The five senators I have chosen are: Taylor Xanas, Maben..."

Olista suppressed a pleased smile. The boy was good, oh but the boy was good. The senators were punch-drunk. Lanas had so much work to do before morning that the Supreme Councilor doubted it could be done unless the hapless Senate Leader worked all night.

To get themselves noticed for inclusion in the inner sanctum, the others had a great deal of politicking and string pulling to do. With luck, they would be too busy for anything else until Zenepha had established himself.

So right not to rattle off his list of names. This way kept the Senate busy, giving them no time for them to whinge and moan. That led to mutters in dark corners, which had effectively finished off the Second Empire. He should have realized this when handing over his list! The list of advisors was unimportant yet the boy stuck to this one.

Whatever Zenepha said, he already had a feel for Marka's politics and Olista knew he had done the right thing.

The sylph leaned back to speak to his former owner. "I will retire now. Time to get ready for the Vintners."

The Supreme Councilor smiled. "It is that."

"You sound pleased." The sylph's silvery gray eyes searched Olista's.

"And proud." The smile grew. "You're going to be the best Emperor for centuries."

Zenepha's expression remained solemn. "That should not be too difficult; I am the first Emperor for centuries."

***

Belaika and Bascon led the Vintner procession into the dining hall located to one side of the coronation building. Both wore their best dark gray breeches and their white shirts were tucked well in. Shirts and breeches were pressed and the creases were in the right places.

Silver collars and battle stars shone from polish, those stars sewn to purple sashes. The more experienced Bascon had fourteen stars and Belaika seven. The younger sylph expected an eighth star for the recent battle on Candin Plain, but none had yet been issued.

Bascon also boasted a ruby field commendation stud in his collar, suggesting that he had done something courageous – and probably foolish – during his scouting career.

As already decided, both sylphs stopped just within the doors and stood to either side, facing the table. They had already eaten; they were here as decoration.

The main banqueting hall being too large, one of the smaller entertaining rooms in the building had been set aside for tonight. It looked opulent though, with hundreds of candles set into chandeliers and light crystals dotted around the walls. Polished to a high shine, the darkwood circular table had more candles at its center. Paintings covered the walls, the ceiling looked to be recently whitewashed, and the wooden floor, its blocks arranged in a chevron pattern, glistened in the reflected candlelight. The smaller room was sufficient for the fifteen people dining here tonight.

Marcus and Zandra strode into the hall immediately behind the scouts, followed by Verdin and Elsin. All looked resplendent in their finery. Jenn carried parchments and stoppered bottles of ink, almost treading on Verdin's heels as she entered the room. Marshal Mikhan and General Ranallic followed, entering together as Mikhan's wife had not yet arrived from Sandester, and Ranallic had no wife.

Guard Commander Mansard brought up the rear, with Kelecan looking relaxed for once. The military men wore their uniforms, and Mansard's purple linings added a touch of authority.

Everybody, except the sylphs, went to one knee.

Zenepha, flanked by Selkina and Captain Crallin of the City Guard, rose from his seat. Guardsmen and servants stood around the room, the latter waiting to serve the meal. Crallin's wife sat the other side of her husband, while Selkina had Olista, the Supreme Councilor, for company. He had brought both his wives.

"You are all welcome," said Zenepha, his high voice seemingly calm and controlled. His earpoints twitched, whether in excitement or curiosity nobody could tell. "Please, come and join us."

Servants stepped forward to show the visitors to their seats. The moment they were sat, the scouts moved to stand behind their owners' chairs, while Jenn stood behind Zandra. Other infertiles stood behind the chairs of the Markan ladies.

"I hope you will all relax," continued Zenepha. "For those who do not already know, may I introduce Supreme Councilor Olista and Captain Crallin of the City Guard. The ladies are Tamsin Mochna, Menta Bulos, Helice Veren and my wife Selkina."

Marcus Vintner led the introductions, Zenepha nodding and repeating the name of each person, adding a respectful " _ya_ " to the end of each one.

Zandra smiled to herself. Quite endearing, this behavior showed Zenepha still had not come to terms with his new status. He obviously regarded himself as an ordinary sylph, despite the lack of collar, and not as the most powerful person in all of Marka. She wondered how well he might manage his new responsibility. And how long he would last.

She noted that Selkina also wore no collar, but Zandra knew only Zenepha had been manumitted. His wife's precise legal status remained something of a mystery.

"I am pleased to meet you all." Zenepha nodded to one of the servants and tucked his napkin into his shirt.

The servant disappeared and, moments later, the first course was being served.

Zandra took the time to take in and measure her companions, starting with the other ladies. Crallin's wife, Helice, displayed a stern countenance, sharp eyes watching everything and everyone. But the infertile sylph behind her chair gave lie to that facade. Zandra had never seen an infertile look so relaxed, her eyes sparkling with the joy of life. She looked like she might spend more time at play than at work. So Captain and wife, despite appearances, were not stern with their sylph, and perhaps even spoiled her a little.

Olista's wives intrigued her. Tamsin was clearly the senior, but the sylph with them stood behind Menta's seat. This infertile looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here and her earpoints were slightly wilted. Dragged out against her will, perhaps?

The other infertiles were spotless and immaculately dressed. Zandra, despite mutterings and protests, had insisted Jenn scrub and dress in her best. She had spent far too much time in the field and some bad habits had taken root. The smallest sylph present, Jenn had put her hair into a ponytail, and donned breeches and shirt the same color and style as the scouts. Her only clothes that did not look like they had been laundered in a swamp. The other sylphs wore silver collars, Jenn a leather one.

Well, Zandra would sort Jenn's wardrobe soon.

Belaika stood behind Marcus, and for once Jenn did not seem to resent the intrusion. She stood docilely behind Zandra, who hoped the sylph looked a little more interested than Menta's. Whatever Jenn did would reflect on her.

Kelecan was Zandra's aunt, so already well known to her and, more importantly, well trusted. Elsin, the late Branad's second wife, was another proposition. That she had come with Verdin instead of the younger man's own mother, showed that Kana still harbored hard feelings over her husband's death. Zandra understood if Elsin still mourned, but she had given few signs of that after the first day. Elsin seemed relaxed about the matter; perhaps she already hunted for a new husband. If so, Zandra would help her find the right one.

She turned her attention to the men, already chatting happily with each other across the table. Every bit as talkative as the ladies.

She had already met Captain Crallin of the City Guard. His zealousness impressed her when it came to dealing with malefactors, even if his manner did not. Probably an excellent constable and a good soldier, but not the most polite she had ever met. She wondered how politically able he might be, if at all. What did he expect to gain from having an Emperor?

Emperor-to-be Zenepha, if only a caretaker, and clearly unused to his new status. He did not even try to be regal and deferred to almost everyone else by habit. A habit he must lose to survive the jungle of human politics. Partly pleased and partly relieved that the sylph showed his normality, she knew he must prove himself as ruthless as his opponents to gain any respect. If he didn't toughen up, she could see a way to gain advantage for Marcus.

If anyone could teach Zenepha to be a monarch, his former owner Olista must rank high on the list. Outwardly jovial, the Supreme Councilor was a master politician beyond doubt. This man could manipulate others without them realizing it and she knew she must warn her husband to be on his guard around him. Marcus believed Olista backed his claim, but he had not convinced Zandra. Clearly not out for himself, perhaps the Supreme Councilor cared most about Marka. However he reckoned himself, she knew he would use Zenepha as a tool, a means to an end.

Was her husband's claim that end? Or was he also a mere tool, to be used up and then discarded as part of some great game? She must find out.

Serving girls stepped forward to clear away one set of dishes and replace them with another. The guests chatted amiably enough, though some verbal fencing went on under the surface. Crallin seemed suspicious of Marcus; perhaps Branad's murder remained fresh in the Captain's mind. The accusations against her husband pained her far more than Marcus.

Jenn leaned forward. "Nobody wants to talk to you," she whispered, a hint of outrage in her voice.

"After the meal," replied Zandra, "I'll go and talk to them." Things must be bad for Jenn to take her side!

The infertile stood back as the next course was served. The other ladies around the table had noted her exchange with Jenn. The infertile stood behind Menta stared, earpoints bolt upright. Obviously this sylph didn't speak so freely to humans, at least during formal occasions.

Zandra filed the observation away.

Her attention turned to her own companions.

Marcus she trusted absolutely, of course. He had never pestered for a second wife and always treated her with the same respect he expected from her. That respect had been earned; she trusted his had also. Either way, many men of rank or position sadly lacked this quality. She would willingly die for her husband and if possible give more, knowing he would do the same for her.

She and Mansard were old friends and she loved the Guard Commander. Her uncle by marriage to Kelecan, he seemed more like a close brother, or friend. The only other human male she trusted fully. He had taught her swordplay and how to fight using hands and feet.

Zandra found it difficult to gauge Verdin, son of the murdered Branad. He claimed to be perfectly happy to surrender all the power the Throne would bring, a position she found hard to believe. Quite naturally, he wanted to be part of Marka's renaissance. He wanted to be the man remembered for bringing Prefectures back into the fold. As diplomat or warrior didn't seem to bother him one bit. This young man might cause more harm than good. That any harm would be unintentional only made matters worse. She must keep a careful eye on him. He needed a wife to settle him down and round off all remaining youthful exuberance. Or might that be zealousness?

Perhaps he played a secret game of his own, but he had confirmed his father's renunciation in the Senate. Any claim to the Throne from that branch of the Vintner family had ended.

Branad's old marshal fascinated her.

There was much in Mikhan Annada that reminded her of other men she respected or admired. He carried himself with a quiet authority few men possessed, knowing his place in life and that he excelled in his chosen career. Of those around the table, he was the only one who made her nervous. Despite Verdin's renunciation, Mikhan showed no inclination to transfer his support to Marcus. His eyes held a considering light every time he looked Zenepha's way and disappointment when he glanced at Verdin. He all but ignored Marcus, but the looks he directed at Ranallic held dislike at best.

General Ranallic, twice a replacement for Kelanus, did not feature among her favorite people. She had never met or even heard of him before arriving here, but something about him annoyed her. Or perhaps she just could not take to him. His origins were irrelevant; she knew many outlanders and never even thought about where they came from, or looked like. That had nothing to do with it. Ranallic had a swagger beyond any he might have earned. She must learn more about him. She understood why Kelanus detested Ranallic, but she must more thoroughly investigate Mikhan's not quite hidden distaste for the southerner.

With a start, she realized she stared down at the final course. Had she been so deeply engrossed? She glanced around at the other women and at the sylphs. Had anybody noticed? Even if the other women had missed it, their sylphs had not. What had she eaten? She ought not be surprised that the last part of the meal contained a lot of choca. All sylphs shared the same weakness, even if they became Emperors.

She hoped Jenn was not drooling. For that matter, she hoped the scouts were not drooling. She glanced at Bascon and Belaika quickly. Both behaved themselves, though covetous gazes flickered to the table more than once.

Servants stepped forward to pour fresh red wine, and Zenepha and Olista exchanged a glance.

The Emperor-to-be smiled nervously around the table. "I am certain you are wondering why I asked you here. There are several reasons, but the most important is that I have no wish to see enmity between us. You already know that I am to be caretaker Emperor; my position is not permanent. You also know Hingast is coming and that Marka is unable to defend herself against an attack should you decide to leave."

_Verbosity from a sylph?_ wondered Zandra. _Different._

"We have not considered leaving," put in Marcus, quickly.

This time, the smile held gratitude. "My advisors tell me that is most unlikely. There are vacant positions that need filling."

"Such as?" Clasping his hands in front of him, Marcus leaned forward.

"Captain Crallin will remain in command of the City Guard," continued Zenepha. "However, I also wish to form an Imperial Guard, defunct since the Shadow Riders disappeared with the gwerins. May Guard Commander Mansard be released from his duties with you and assume command of my Imperial Guard? If he wishes."

"I see." Well aware of Olista's stare, Marcus gave no hint of his thoughts.

Mansard looked at Marcus and the latter nodded. Zandra pursed her lips. An outlander in charge of the Emperor's personal guard? She hoped the guardsmen themselves would be Markans, or the wrong message would go out. She wondered if Olista's hand truly controlled this game.

"General Ranallic will retain command of the field army," continued Zenepha, "if it merges under Markan command."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You've already admitted Marka is unable to defend herself against a concerted attack, yet now you want me to place my army and commanders under your direction?"

"Not my direction." Zenepha smiled again. "You have with you a man well versed in defending cities and who is already a marshal."

Mikhan remained impassive.

"I would like to see Marshal Mikhan Annada become Marshal of Marka," completed Zenepha. "He will command the army, with General Ranallic as field commander."

Mikhan did not even glance at Marcus. "I am delighted to accept your offer, Majesty."

Zandra noted Mikhan did not seek Marcus's approval before accepting his post. It irritated her that both senior officers of the army were Branad's men, which seemed to have stood her husband's recent victory on its head. Yet he remained in overall command. With Kelanus out of the way, no Calcan generals were senior enough to take precedence.

Zenepha's smile broadened. "I want you as one of my advisors, Marcus- _ya_. I have no intention of allowing my other advisors attempt to use your army unless you have given your own input."

Zandra's eyes narrowed. She wondered if this input included a veto.

Despite her misgivings, she felt grudging admiration for Zenepha. Only a sylph, yet he used his intelligence well. He knew of the skills the two Vintner armies had brought with them. She doubted if the sylph had made many organizational changes in Marka, leaving most people in office. He had pretty much grasped Marcus's own organization and, while turning it to his own advantage, left it more or less alone.

She suspected Olista's hand, but she had a feeling this sylph was no puppet. On one hand, he must be allowed his independence, free from interference, or he would fall quickly. Too quickly. But on the other, if the Zenepha proved to be _too_ good, that would make Marcus's way to the Throne even more difficult.

"And Verdin Vintner?" asked Mikhan.

"Once we have defeated Hingast," began Zenepha, "I want to see Marka expand once again, preferably through peaceful means. Being sylph, I have no taste for war and conquest. I need an ambassador, to help Prefects make their decisions the right way."

_Somebody_ , thought Zandra, _has definitely done his homework_.

Verdin smiled.

Mikhan gave the younger man a disgruntled look.

Zenepha again showed he had good information. "You have two hundred sylph scouts with you," he said. "Is it enough to keep a net extended all around Marka?"

"Plenty," replied Marcus, "so long as your net doesn't extend too far."

"We need to expand the scout force by three times before Hingast gets here." Zenepha's silvery gray eyes held no hint of mockery. "Sylphs, not humans."

Belaika and Bascon exchanged a glance, earpoints upright in surprise. Mikhan stroked his chin and listened.

"The training might not be quite as thorough as usual," warned Marcus. "We usually need five years to train a sylph properly."

Zenepha nodded. "Years we do not have. Can you do it?"

Marcus glanced over his shoulder. "Well?" he demanded of the scouts.

Bascon replied. "Yes, _donenya_. With a stiffening of more experienced scouts, we can do it." His earpoints twitched. "We are already doing it with the wild sylphs."

"Wild sylphs?" echoed Zenepha. "You train them as scouts?"

"They are volunteers," pointed out Marcus.

Zandra blinked. Training wild sylphs must come close to breaking more than one Markan law.

Perhaps Zenepha was not so well informed after all.

Crallin and Olista looked unimpressed at the revelation.

Belaika quickly hid his scowl. "They asked, we did not say no. The wild ones are quick learners."

Zenepha looked pleased. "May I be so bold as to set a target of four hundred scouts in total in two weeks from now and a further two hundred another two weeks after that?"

Bascon pursed his lips. "We will try," he promised.

Suddenly, Zenepha looked every inch a ruler. "Do you all accept my proposition?" he asked.

Marcus looked around the table, seeing satisfied nods and quick smiles. "Your Majesty," he said, surprising Zenepha by using his title, "I think we are all with you."

The sylph's smile held more than a hint of relief. "We shall begin work tomorrow morning," he declared.

"It is dark," pointed out Marcus. "The gates are locked and we are on the wrong side of them. As one of your advisors, I strongly recommend that we begin work immediately."

Zenepha did not even look at Olista. "I accept your recommendation. Let us begin work now."

***
**Chapter 12**

Ilven And Gwerin

Sixty sylphs – half borrowed from Marcus Vintner and the rest from Marka's temples – lined the route in Coronation Hall from door to Throne. Sunlight streamed into the hall, even through the huge stained glass window behind and above the Throne, depicting the first Emperor receiving his crown. Many wondered what the Founding Mark would make of today.

The black royal flag with its gold eagle, and the gold-green-gold striped flag of the people, flanked the freshly reupholstered Throne, still missing its back extension. A reminder to the occupant that he served City and People. The flags hung listlessly, but everybody knew what they were.

The Hall was packed with the Supreme Council and Senate, the latter summoned from the lower chamber to witness the most important event in Marka for a quarter of a millennium.

Senators and High Councilors wore their formal clothes, soldiers their best uniforms and the sylphs were decked out in their finest. The scouts wore white shirts and gray breeches, silver or black collars, purple sashes and silver decorations. Those borrowed from the temples wore white breeches and shirts.

All around the hall, City Guardsmen and officers from Marcus's personal guard kept a watchful eye on the proceedings, ready to move should anything go wrong.

Supreme Councilor Olista appeared in the doorway, clad in his purest robes, bearing a staff topped with a sunburst and having a steel cube at the bottom. He knocked on the ground three times and brought silence to the Hall. His voice resonated.

"There comes one to be anointed, with the Father as witness, to rule over and guide us, to protect and succor us, to govern and administer us. Stand!" With the last word he brought the staff crashing down and the force reverberated through the chamber. Bowing, Olista turned aside.

Flanked by two of his priests, the Imhotep of Marka waited immediately behind Olista. Everybody stood as the Imhotep started forward, his movements slow and graceful, headed directly for the Throne. Zenepha followed, a purple robe over his red and purple clothing. A tight cap hid his earpoints and most of his long silvery gray hair. He kept his head up and met the eye of many politicians. He smiled and nodded at a few.

Unlike Selkina, who kept her head down and showed insecurity by her wilted earpoints. No coronation for her today; Marka would gain an Emperor, but a caretaker needed no official consort.

There were more in the procession. Representatives from the old noble houses of Marka, Marcus and his family, Verdin and his family, Mansard and Mikhan, Ranallic and Crallin.

As the Imhotep passed over the threshold, Zenepha discovered another reason for the vaulted roof in Coronation Hall. The sylphs began to sing.

Their voices rose and fell without accompaniment, soaring through the notes, effortless music so pure and clear that no human voice could ever hope to match it. Legend said a choir of ilven sang for the Founder and the human ear had never heard anything like since. If the story was true, many already reckoned this must come close. As Zenepha reached the Throne, the choir reached a crescendo and ceased.

Moments of complete silence in Coronation Hall, only broken by the Imhotep.

"We are here today, gathered as witnesses with the Father, to anoint Zenepha as Caretaker Emperor of Marka."

Zenepha resisted an urge to tell the Imhotep to get on with it. But humans needed rituals as much as sylphs needed security. From the sharp intake of breath from Selkina, he guessed she felt anything but secure. He must make it up to her later.

"We pray to the Father."

Zenepha remained silent as the humans mumbled the prayer, with only the Imhotep and his priests speaking it aloud properly. The religious leader took from his gold edged robe a vial of oil and rubbed some onto the sylph's forehead.

"With the Father and these as witnesses, I anoint you Caretaker Emperor of Marka."

He turned and took the scepter from one of the priests. Gold and encrusted with gemstones, it felt heavy in the sylph's hand and he feared dropping it.

"You are to rule over and guide us," continued the Imhotep. "This scepter symbolizes your rule and guidance."

He turned to the other priest and took the orb from him. Also made from gold and equally gem-encrusted. Fortunately, being smaller, it was not so heavy.

"You are to protect and succor us," intoned the Imhotep. "You possess this orb to symbolize your protection and relief."

Marshal Mikhan passed a sword to the Imhotep. Zenepha's heart began to beat faster. Plain and simple, with a stained leather scabbard, the sword looked shabby and unimportant. A soldier's sword, ancient yet well used. A priceless artefact, being the founding Mark's weapon. Thankfully light, it lay across the sylph's lap.

"You govern and administer us," rumbled the Imhotep. "This sword symbolizes your government and administration."

From Olista, the Imhotep took the crown and Zenepha thought his heart might burst. This was really happening! Humans really were about to make a sylph their Emperor. He felt small and insignificant.

"You are our Emperor." The Imhotep smiled at the sylph as he slipped the crown over the cap. Zenepha wore this to protect his earpoints and, at Belaika's suggestion, to stop their movement. It also stopped the Imhotep from accidentally brushing against them, which would be embarrassing. "I crown you Emperor Zenepha of Marka, Dominator of the World, Guardian of the Key, Commander of the Shadow Riders and Lord Protector of Gwerins."

The crown sat snugly on Zenepha's head. He hoped the lining held. Hoped that this would be the last time he wore the thing.

The Imhotep raised his voice. "Behold your Emperor!"

The cheering in the hall deafened most people, but was as nothing compared to the shouts outside.

People filled the square outside, crammed into every niche and corner, hoping to glimpse their new Emperor. The streets beyond were also packed and people jostled for a better view, as if they might miraculously get closer. More made the most of their holiday by celebrating in the nearest tavern.

Lance Captain Kestan heard the cheering several streets away and raised his eyes heavenwards. A special holiday for the people of Marka, but just an ordinary day for the army moving into the city. Nobody wanted to be caught outside the walls when Hingast arrived, so everybody must move into the city.

Kestan had the dubious honor of commanding the troops moving Marcus's belongings into the Imperial Palace. Zenepha wanted Marcus to act as one of his advisors and suggested he and his family might like quarters in the palace. Zandra had already moved into the city, but Marcus should find the palace more comfortable than a tent outside the walls.

Kestan suspected the Emperor wanted the other claimant where he could keep an eye on him. He must be aware that the army commanders obeyed Marcus, except perhaps for some of Branad's old officers. Either way, they owed the sylph – and Marka – nothing. He hoped Marcus and his family were not about to be held as virtual prisoners in the palace. There would be trouble if this turned out to be the case.

Dismay welled when the carts turned a corner to meet the crowd, still wild with excitement. He turned to his Markan guide, who maintained a good humor despite missing his holiday. Certainly more cheerful than Kestan's troop, who grew restless with the delays.

"Is there another way to the Imperial Palace?" asked Kestan. "We've no chance of getting through this lot."

The guide shrugged. "Maybe Victory Parade," he suggested. "We haven't gone that way yet."

"Then we'll try," sighed Kestan. This was the third failed attempt to reach the palace, as people blocked all the other ways. "Any other routes through?"

"That'll be the last," replied the cheerful guide. "If it's blocked, we'll have to wait until the crowds go home."

Which might lead to a mini-riot reflected Kestan. The men just wanted to get this task completed and then join every other Markan now tipping ale down his throat.

It proved fourth time lucky for the small convoy. The soldiers swarmed over the carts to unload Marcus's belongings and furnishings. Kestan leaned against the lead cart and stared towards the coronation building. The guide joined them.

"Somewhere in there, they've made an Emperor out of a sylph," he said.

"How can people accept it so easily?" asked Kestan. "Are they all in shock?"

The guide shrugged. "Marka needs an Emperor."

"A sylph?" Kestan shook his head. "It's ridiculous. Marka'll be laughed at over this _centuries_ from now."

The guide shrugged. "Your lot are the ones saying sylphs should enjoy the same freedoms as humans. It's only one step beyond that to have one as ruler."

Kestan's thoughts turned to the rescued wild sylphs. "They've certainly triggered a debate. But how many sylphs have actually demanded manumission? I suppose a sylph as Emperor might help persuade them."

"And they are being trained as scouts? Yesterday I saw what looked like a training field. Boys _and_ girls."

"Indeed. They make excellent progress, very good learners. One or two problems of course."

"Like?"

Kestan laughed and lowered his voice. "Some of the trained ones are shocked females want to learn the skills as well. But the training Sergeants refuse to eject them. They'll only stop training those who fail to meet the required standard, male or female."

"A little foolish to use females in war?"

"No more than using sylphs at all. There's not much difference between them. If any. So far as we can tell, anyway. We don't expect them to fight, so that isn't an issue. To the wild sylphs, the survival of the tribe is paramount and everyone must do what they can do best. If that means a few sylph girls want to cover themselves in paint and live wild for a few weeks at a time, fine."

"Still seems strange to me. A lot of strange things happening now."

"Like having a sylph for Emperor." Kestan laughed aloud again and clapped the guide on the shoulder. "Learn to adapt, we must all do that from time to time."

The guide shrugged. "Up to you what you do I suppose."

Who wanted to learn scouting gave Kestan no concerns. What bothered him about the wild sylphs was the way they increasingly looked to him – and the other humans involved in their rescue – for guidance and suggestions. He feared they were sacrificing their independence.

The scouts involved in the rescue had been offered membership of the wild ones' fledgling tribe. The scouts had asked if that meant breaking their existing bonds which, being sylphs, they were reluctant to do. This small refusal had sparked the debate among the sylphs, an argument about slavery and freedom.

"There will always be a place for you among us," Aelfina had promised them. "For you and your families."

The wild sylphs were gently coercing their enslaved cousins to join them.

Kestan looked down then away again. He shook his head. The nameless sylph who had fussed over him since the rescue had stayed outside Marka today. He had grown accustomed to the small infertile's presence.

Many of the wild sylphs had come into the city for Zenepha's coronation, intrigued by a sylph ruling humans. Usually reluctant to pass the gates, they were likely mixing with the crowds now.

What would they do when Hingast arrived? Enter the city or melt away? He must learn their intentions; if they stayed outside the city during a siege, they could be very useful. So long as they remained undiscovered by Hingast. And if some soldiers stayed outside the walls with them... Kestan smiled. He must speak with Ranallic as soon as he got the chance. He had a few ideas.

He glanced down again, still half expecting to see the infertile beside him. She had giggled when he asked for her name and shook her head, clearly unwilling to share it.

Aelfina told him all the infertiles had names, but would only share them with those they wanted to serve. Aelfina also said that among sylphs, the infertiles named themselves, or perhaps each other. It was a human custom to give infertiles names.

When she shared her name, Aelfina had said, she would feel duty bound to remain with him. When asking her to share it, Kestan had apparently also asked if she wanted to be his servant. As she had not refused to reveal her name, she must be considering his question. And he must wait for her answer. Perhaps her absence _was_ the answer.

He had bought an infertile sylph for his wife, but she had named the creature and cared for her back in Calcan. That sylph was now more pet than slave, a very similar relationship to that shared by Marcus and Jenn. But the wild sylphs were different, very different.

Seeing a young soldier about to lift a box that might cause him an injury, Kestan pushed his thoughts aside and hurried to help.

***

Zenepha took a large bite from the chicken leg; some time had passed since he had last eaten fowl. The coronation feast had begun with seasonal fruits, followed by delicious fish and now the chicken for him and the other sylphs present. The humans ate roasted boar. The best was yet to come: a choca dessert before drinking and dancing. Zenepha would avoid the drinking, but he looked forward to dancing.

He glanced at Selkina and leaned toward her.

"Well?" he asked.

Selkina managed a small smile. "Uneasy," she replied. Her earpoints gave a violent twitch as she looked around the gathering. "So many."

Zenepha squeezed her arm. "You will be fine when the dancing starts."

Her smile broadened. "So proud of you," she whispered.

He looked around the hall, less afraid of crowds than his wife was. Perhaps the size of the hall intimidated her. Large, open spaces bothered many sylphs; he knew of several who walked around city squares rather than across them. But he had never noticed this fear in his wife before.

Most of his advisors were close, with their families. Principal Chancellor Lanas, once Leader of the Senate, had now appointed his cabinet. Those men were also seated nearby. The remainder of the distinguished guests filled the tables that stretched away from him. Marcus, sat to the sylph's right, leaned toward him.

"Our move into the city will be complete before the end of the week," he promised. "I don't know about the wild sylphs – they're yet to make their intentions clear."

"I see." Zenepha's attention returned to the crowd. Certain he had glimpsed Stanak, he felt a twinge of disappointment that Sandev had stayed away. The bodyguard's presence suggested she planned to attend, though. "Has General Ranallic worked out his patrol roster yet?"

Zenepha had asked Ranallic to work out how many men he needed to keep Marka and her environs clear of bandits. No bandits meant people could safely return to their farms and begin to employ the many sylphs presently infesting the city's streets.

Olista said he wanted a word about those itinerant sylphs, but he had not yet found an opportunity. Zenepha did not want to hear excuses. Sylphs needed the security of owners, which was how things should be.

"He's working on your orders as we speak," replied Marcus. "A force of a thousand men should be sufficient. Working with the scouts, we should have ample warning of Hingast's approach."

Zenepha nodded, then caught sight of the serving girls moving forward. "Ah!" He rubbed his hands together in glee. "Choca!"

Marcus privately thought this sylph would have no teeth left before he got much older. Two nights running he had chosen a choca dessert. Sylphs grew new teeth every ten years or so, but if the ones they had already were lost prematurely, they still must wait for new ones. An advantage Marcus wished humans could share.

Marcus tried to ignore Zenepha's actions as he finished the dessert. To lick out a bowl, even to ensure not a trace of choca remained, displayed disgraceful table manners. Every sylph present copied the Emperor and Marcus was not alone in grimacing.

Zenepha hid a contented belch behind a hand. "And now," he announced, "we shall retire while the hall is prepared for dancing."

Zandra touched her husband's arm. "Will you excuse me? There are some ladies I should converse with."

Marcus glanced across at Tamsin, who already gathered ladies around her. "Of course."

The politicians bunched into their factions, some staring belligerently at each other, but Zenepha hurried past them all. He refused to meet their stares and quiet hints, trying to catch Stanak. He glimpsed a patch of blue; he had brought Caya, which suggested that Sandev intended to be here.

"Your Majesty." Stanak inclined his head.

Zenepha forced a smile. "Stanak- _ya_. Where is Sandev?"

Caya stared at the Emperor, perhaps thinking him rude for his bluntness.

"She'll be here," promised Stanak.

Marcus and Belaika appeared beside Zenepha, ready to fend off any other politician who might follow. Selkina was not far behind. She and Caya exchanged a ready smile; the two had been friends for years. Zandra finished her talk with Tamsin and rejoined her husband.

"Sandev _is_ here," interrupted a smiling Sandev. "Your Majesty, how did the day go?"

Zenepha had no attention for Sandev and ignored her question. Belaika and Selkina were equally still. The sylphs also ignored the short gray-haired man with Sandev. They ignored the infertile sylph with her. But the fourth latecomer in Sandev's small group seized their attention.

Shorter than the humans and fertile sylphs, long shapely limbs hinted at more growing to come. Brunette hair tumbled across her shoulders and down her back. Barefoot, she wore green tunic and leggings, and smelled like a pine forest. Collarless, she was no slave, and laughter-filled emerald-green eyes held their own silvery gray in thrall. Those emerald irises were not round, as in humans, but slightly oval, a difference obvious to the careful observer. Zenepha and Belaika bowed.

" _Alvanya_ ," breathed Belaika. He decided a bow was not enough and fell to his knees, copying Selkina's example.

"Ilven?" echoed Marcus.

"Please rise." The ilven spoke flawless sylph. "I should make obeisance to you, Majesty." She nodded to Zenepha as Belaika regained his feet.

The rumor that an ilven was present rippled through the hall. More and more people began to crowd around the doorway and the green-eyed newcomer suddenly looked shy. She looked up at the old man with her.

"Too many at once," she said, quickly.

The silver-haired man squeezed the ilven's shoulder. "Can we go apart for this?" he asked.

"A room is through here," offered Zenepha, "where we can talk privately."

Sandev nodded. "An excellent idea; this one?"

She knew very well which room Zenepha intended and the sylph felt pleased that she made no move to undermine his authority. Moments later, they were away from the crowd.

Sandev made introductions. "This is Zenepha, now Emperor of Marka; Marcus Vintner, one of the claimants, and Zandra Ems, Marcus's wife. The sylphs are Belaika- _y_ -Marcus, Selkina- _y_ -Zenepha and Caya- _y_ -Sandev. Stanak is my bodyguard. Everybody, meet Grayar, an old friend, the sylph is Salu- _y_ -Grayar and this young lady is Djerana. An ilven."

"Pleased to meet you all." Again, the ilven inclined her head. For a moment she appeared to turn shy again.

Marcus and Zandra both stared at the old man. "Grayar?" said Marcus, eventually. "Another of the Ten?"

Grayar scowled. "So my name is remembered here."

"Not by many," interrupted Sandev. "I hear the band warming up. May I have the pleasure of the first dance?"

Grayar's features softened. "Of course you may." He offered his hand.

Zenepha looked at Selkina and nodded in Belaika's direction. She understood and took the sylph scout by the arm.

"How is Eleka?" Selkina made conversation with her dance partner. "Not long now surely?"

Zenepha nervously cleared his throat. He had read nothing that suggested ilven were dangerous, despite their intended role within their sephiroth, but much that warned they could be flighty or mercurial. Or both, depending on which eye they opened first in the morning. He wondered which best described her. "May I offer myself for the first dance?"

Djerana's face cleared and she gave the sylph a large smile. "I'd _love_ to," she declared, emerald eyes sparkling.

Zenepha's return smile was equally warm.

***

Sandev watched Djerana offer her hand to Belaika for the next dance, almost pushing Selkina aside. Sighing, she turned to Grayar.

"So much for getting her close to Marcus Vintner."

Grayar chuckled. "The best laid plans go wrong," he replied. "If nothing else, it should help bring the people of Marka more solidly behind your sylph."

"We want them more solidly behind Marcus," she complained. "I can't afford to have them choose wrong this time."

"Precious little you can do to prevent it," retorted Grayar. "If you want them to act as you wish, rule them directly yourself." His blue eyes bored into Sandev. "We know the dangers of that, having to fight people once they learn to hate our power instead of respecting it."

Sandev sighed again and nodded. "You're right; I must let events run their course."

"Often the wisest choice." Grayar almost smiled. "The Father will show a way. Perhaps He wishes to see humans ruled by sylphs."

Sandev snorted. "A recipe for chaos. Zenepha is one sylph among many. It was hard enough getting him to accept his role; he tried to refuse it. Imagine that struggle every time an Emperor dies."

Grayar watched Djerana's graceful movements as she danced around the hall. She danced with Belaika, but she led him, rather than the other way about. Other hungry eyes stared at the ilven. "She would have got on better with Marcus if you hadn't bunged us straight into the middle of Zenepha's coronation dinner-dance," he muttered. "All these humans at once. Too much for even the most forward of ilven."

"She seems happy enough now," remarked Sandev.

"Wait and see what happens when a human wants to dance with her," pointed out the other. "She's already refused Marcus Vintner twice."

Sandev winced. This had not turned out at all as planned. Typical ilven. She watched as the door to the hall opened.

Jenn slipped unobtrusively through the door. Instead of joining her owner, she stood on tiptoe, eyes questing. Brightening, she tripped across the floor to Belaika and put a hand on his arm. Her dance interrupted, Djerana gave the newcomer a neutral look that soon turned to interested concern.

Belaika crossed to his owner and gesticulated unhurriedly. Marcus nodded, then the two sylphs, Marcus and Zandra left.

Zenepha crossed to Sandev and reached her the same moment as Djerana.

"Belaika's wife is birthing," said the ilven. "I am minded to go."

"Of course." Something flickered in Grayar's eyes and he turned to Sandev. "I have a feeling about this one. Coming?"

So two of the Ten, an ilven and an Emperor followed Marcus Vintner and his sylphs to the stables. Selkina caught up with her husband just before they turned in.

Sylphs filled every available space and the nimblest crowded on the rafters. Domestics, stablers, scouts; males, females and infertiles. For sylphs, the more who attended a birth, the greater honor reflected on the mother. It made births very public affairs, with well-wishers always present. As the mixed group approached, heads turned, but the humans and sylphs were almost ignored.

" _Alvanya_."

The whisper spread and sylph after sylph bowed his head, or knelt, or made some other form of obeisance to the ilven. Djerana gave no sign of embarrassment and acknowledged as many of the sylphs as she could. A clear way formed before her and closed up after she passed. The humans and sylphs had to push their way through. Sinabra thickened the air.

Although presently deserted, sacking had been laid out in the center of the stable. Eleka walked up and down, every now and then dropping into a squat, shuddering as she gave a little push. Belaika was beside her, offering support and encouragement. Flanked by Zandra and Jenn, Marcus stood to one side of the sacking.

Eleka waddled back to the center of the stable and crouched as she reached the sacking. Two more sylph females stepped forward, ready to help. Eleka had eyes only for Belaika and pride shone on his face. They grasped hands.

Total silence for a split second.

Eleka crouched even lower and gave a wordless shout. The sylphs surged forward, eyes expectant. Eleka repeated her shout, and it was all over.

A collective sigh rose from all those who could see. White, almost translucent skin, instead of the normal blue. Fine brown hair covered the newborn's scalp and the eyes – which in sylphs usually remained shut for the first day or so after birth – were open, if unfocused. Violet eyes, cat-slit in the same way as other sylphs. Her ears were pointed and already twitching, instead of tucked away as normal with newborns.

"Gwerin!" exclaimed Djerana.

"A gwerin," agreed Belaika, a little glumly. He had expected a son, but cheered up as his owner crossed to join him and Eleka.

"A beautiful baby," remarked Marcus. "You are both to be congratulated."

"Gwerin, gwerin." The sylphs seemed to hold this new arrival in as much awe as Djerana.

A thin mewling came from the baby, her small fists bunching. In a moment, uncaring of the birthing fluids still streaking the infant's body, Eleka put her child to her breast. Sounds of satisfaction filled the air. Belaika draped sacking around his wife. Births were public, but the rest of it – chewing through the umbilical cord and disposing of the afterbirth – remained private.

Sandev leaned closer to Grayar and lowered her voice for his ears alone. "This is going to give the soothsayers a field day. An ilven attaching herself to a sylph Emperor and a gwerin, born to a sylph belonging to a claimant to the Markan Throne. As if life wasn't complicated enough!"

Grayar remained expressionless. "The gwerin will be of little use for some years. Without older gwerins to teach and instruct, she must build her life experience alone."

"I'm sure the old palace gwerins will resurface once it's known Marka has an Emperor again."

Grayar's expression still did not change. "Unless they've found new owners. Or are dead. Life is rarely easy for gwerins without protectors."

Sandev looked away. Knowing Grayar was right did not make it any easier to accept. Surely at least _one_ of the palace gwerins still lived?

Marcus congratulated his sylphs, promising both gold collars for giving him a gwerin. Pride shone in the parents' faces as he spoke. The cause of the excitement nestled comfortably in Eleka's arms, asleep.

Grayar, having seen enough, nodded to himself. "Only time will tell what this gwerin will bring."

"Usually honor," replied Sandev. "In the right hands, their counsel is always sought after. And this one is in the best of hands." She raised her voice. "What name for the baby, Eleka?"

The female sylph looked at Marcus who smiled.

"Your honor," he said.

Eleka looked at Belaika and he nodded.

"Salafisa," she replied.

***

"What?"

Marlen stared at Petan.

"An ilven attended the coronation feast last night," repeated Petan. "Shy, by all accounts. Only danced with sylphs and disappeared early on."

"And a newborn gwerin." Marlen's voice carried menace.

Petan looked out of the window. "Just coincidence," he said. "Or an omen?"

"Omen!" Marlen snorted in derision. "My orders may change once I pass this back." He glanced out of the window towards the beggar Janin who had plagued him these past weeks. "And we can pull him in and find out who he works for." He sighed. "That limitation is thankfully lifted, and not before time."

"I can sort the sylph now," offered Petan.

Marlen shook his head. "Get him another day. This ilven concerns me more. How did she get here? They abandoned this continent more than a century ago."

"She arrived with Sandev and a human man," reported Petan. "No idea who he is, only that he's short and old, with gray hair."

"Perhaps another warrior to give Sandev moral support," remarked Marlen.

"Sandev treated him like an equal. Or perhaps even as a superior."

Marlen shrugged. "Nobody I know, but I'm sure we'll soon find out. Get his name."

Petan nodded.

"An ilven and a gwerin in one day," mused Marlen, half to himself. "Has Siranva stirred into action?"

It was Petan's turn to shrug. "If he's getting involved, it's not good news."

"Find out who this new arrival is." Marlen smiled. "It's as easy to arrange two deaths as one."

***

The next few days were busy. A steady stream of people visited the new Emperor and still more summoned. Advisors were kept occupied and Zenepha began his changes. As with any change, not everybody was pleased all the time.

As Olista had suggested, Zenepha's first act standardized the currency. He utilized as many traditional names as possible, but the changes upset a few. Everybody agreed Zenepha had acted properly to prevent the illegal clipping of coins. Many grumbled at the thought of new coins, sweeping away many of the old traditional names, but it pleased Saylon Eund, Chief Cashier of the Royal Mint, and it certainly pleased the Guilds.

Saylon spent hours discussing the changes with the Emperor, while he and his scribes helped draw up designs for the new coins.

While Saylon worked with Zenepha, his wife called on Zandra.

Arran Sacla smiled her thanks at Jenn and inhaled the scent of the alovak. "Calcan bean," she said. "Always welcome and highly sought after."

Zandra smiled. "You are more of an expert on alovak beans than I. It all smells and tastes the same to me."

Arran waved a dismissive hand. "Comes with practice. Being surrounded by Guildspeople helps. But I'm not here to discuss alovak beans; I wished to meet with you privately."

"I'm honored. Jenn! Sweetmeats please."

Arran continued. "Of course, my husband is pleased that the currency will be properly controlled again, but..." She allowed her voice to trail off as she leaned forward conspiratorially. "I hope this isn't treason, but our Emperor is only a _caretaker_. My husband fears even more change when His Majesty steps down in favor of a more... normal monarch."

Zandra smiled to herself as Jenn returned with the sweetmeats. "Assure your husband that Marcus was involved in His Majesty's decision. The last thing anybody wants is a return to the days of poorly controlled monies in circulation. By all means, discuss this with your husband, but I can promise that..."

A small beginning. But it _was_ a beginning. Zandra would see Marcus on the Markan Throne.

***

Once he had sorted the currency, Zenepha standardized the system of measurements, using his former owner Olista and Marcus's sylph Jenn for deciding on units of length, weight and so on. There were the inevitable howls of protest from some, but Zenepha ignored them all and involved the Guilds as far as possible. He compromised where he must, but managed to push through what he wanted.

This brought more wives to Zandra's door, most eager to make the acquaintance of the claimant's wife. Others clearly wished to size her up and try to fit her in with their own schemes. Eventually, most would end up playing in Zandra's scheme. Or struggling against her.

One visitor was Hulen Shayler. Although a wife, she headed the mercer's guild, a powerful woman in her own right. Her worries concerned the new measurements, which she felt were too complicated compared with the old.

"His Majesty believes this new system covers the greatest number of practical applications," Zandra said.

"I am sure that is so," continued Hulen, "but short _and_ long feet? The inca is a different length and the new mila is longer than the old."

Zandra nodded. "His Majesty has taken the average of all the incas in use and standardized it. The short foot is based on a sylph's foot and the long..."

"I know, I know." Hulen watched for signs of annoyance in the other's face. Pleased to see none, she continued. "There will be much resistance to this new system of measurements. The old system was far superior."

"But very disjointed. We found fifteen different inca lengths in three days. Each Guild used its own system, all adding to the chaos. His Majesty has simply standardized each measurement so all are the same."

Hulen lowered her voice, after glancing quickly at Jenn. "I think many of the complaints come because it is a sylph who has imposed this on the city."

Zandra smiled. "Hulen, I assure you that my husband was fully involved with the new standard. Please reassure your Guild that the Emperor did not act alone."

The other woman's face changed completely. "I can tell my members that this is so? Oh, thank you; you have just made my life a little easier. Though the Guilds were involved, many feel that their suggestions were ignored."

"Certainly not, Zenepha only chose a course between them all. Jenn! Alovak if you please." Smiling, Zandra leaned forward. "The new system has been designed specifically for ease of use, rather than making arithmetic easy for schoolchildren. If the Guilds are still causing problems tomorrow, may I suggest that you..."

Hulen listened to Zandra's advice carefully, almost forgetting to drink her alovak. Much of what she heard sounded good, and she might strengthen her own position by taking the lead. Perhaps even the President's chair of _all_ the Guilds awaited her.

***

Zenepha had not forgotten his other instructions. Ranallic finally presented his roster and the sylph, no military expert, barely glanced at it before waving it through. He listened patiently to Marshal Mikhan as he outlined his plans for Marka, to ensure the city's successful defense against the expected siege. He granted his marshal the authority to do what was needed.

He sent officials to discover which farms were deserted and scribes to trawl through the records to find those without a legal owner. As allowed in Markan Law, all such farms reverted to the Throne.

Though sensible in itself, how Zenepha planned to dispose of those farms caused a sensation. He proposed giving them to people who wanted a farm of their own. If they had no other bonds and were prepared to take two itinerant sylphs off the streets for every fifteen square jumps of land granted to them, the farm was theirs.

Some howled themselves hoarse, but the protests did not come from the expected quarter. Olista and Crallin raised the loudest complaints, aware that if Zenepha followed through with this plan, they would lose their network of spies. Both men tried everything to change Zenepha's mind, but the sylph announced his intentions at Council, which effectively ended all opposition to it.

Olista in particular dared not admit he had used sylph beggars as spies, but there were other arguments against the plan. Why should people made indigent through their own efforts be rewarded? Zenepha replied that the workshy would find a farm far too much hard work. The sylph could not be persuaded and once it had been announced to the Council...

Zenepha had no sympathy for the complaining Olista. He pointed out that he had been content to remain a slave and Olista had uprooted him and set him along a new path. Zenepha ruled Marka now and his former owner would have to make do as well as everyone else. He would grant the land and take sylphs off the streets. And that was that.

The sylph throwing his weight about brought Tamsin to Zandra.

"I do like Jenn's new livery." Tamsin smiled at the infertile before she inhaled the alovak's aroma.

Jenn scowled as she stared at Tamsin, her earpoints bolt upright. Her new knee-length breeches and work tunic had only arrived from the mercer that morning. There were others, but this set was pale gray, seams embroidered with blue memory flowers. These clothes looked much better than the near rags she had brought with her. She liked the gold dragon's head embroidered on the left breast, but her old kit had been comfortable.

"I'm afraid Marcus rather neglected Jenn's wardrobe while they were in the field. One set of best clothes is not enough in the city, so I ordered more. At least she looks respectable now; even beggars were better dressed." Zandra smiled at the infertile, but the sylph pretended not to notice.

"You'll get used to the new cloth," Tamsin told Jenn. "Ah! It is always a delight to taste such wonderful alovak."

Zandra nodded. "Lots of visitors compliment Jenn on it."

"Probably why your husband insists she accompanies him in the field."

Zandra said nothing to this. Jenn stayed at Marcus's side in the field because it meant she had him to herself and was at the insistence of Jenn, not Marcus. But she would not share private matters with relative strangers. "Has Olista calmed himself yet?"

Tamsin tasked. "I've not seen him so worked up for years. The plan for the abandoned farms has annoyed him."

Zandra sipped at her own alovak. "His Majesty clearly recognizes that paternalism is part of his obligation to Marka's people."

"Paternalism yes, charity no. Charity and State must be kept as far apart as possible, or the result is penury for all."

"Only if the State plunders the prudent to reward the reckless," countered Zandra. "Those farms are abandoned and the sylph beggars need owners – or else proper freedom."

"So Marcus would act no differently?"

"He certainly recognizes something must be done. A city can tolerate some beggars, but not the level we see in Marka. And I suspect Olista is more concerned for his intelligence network than he is that some farms might fall into the wrong hands."

A short silence followed. Tamsin glanced at Jenn – so quickly that Zandra almost missed it – and back again. Jenn had assumed a mask of bored indifference, but if the sylph wasn't listening, Zandra would eat the rug.

Tamsin's blue-green eyes glittered. "You know, men in positions of authority often only get told what others think they want to hear and Zenepha will be no exception. Same for Olista and I'm sure it's exactly the same for your husband." She smiled before she spoke again. "Of course, wives often let slip the truth while chatting with the wives of those in authority. A good wife will always pass this gossip on to her husband of course. It's the only way the truth can feed back to those in authority. Usually the only way."

Zandra blinked. "I support my husband as no doubt you do yours."

Tamsin took a careful swallow of alovak, her appearance unruffled. She nodded, as if she had made her mind up about something. "I must say that Olista has chosen to follow the right claimant to the Throne," she said. "And that claimant chose wisely when he looked for a wife."

Zandra almost blushed. "Like other spymasters, Olista and Crallin must pay for their information in future," she said. "I am surprised a city such as Marka allowed so many beggars in the first place, but those sylphs need owners."

"There are always a few." Tamsin sounded dismissive. "But the situation worsened in recent years when raids on the farms began."

"Now General Ranallic has his roster sorted, I think those raids will lessen considerably. The Supreme Councilor should be encouraging His Majesty, not berating him for doing his job properly. And you can tell him I said so."

"Believe me, I will." Tamsin smiled. "I hope Zenepha leaves something for your husband to sort out when he reaches the Throne. Or the Senate might be very reluctant to let the sylph step down."

Zandra frowned. She had not considered this.

"I see you understand. Good." Tamsin's smile was still in place. "We cannot leave everything to the sylph. He's already proving himself rather adept at this game."

"I'm sure that perception will change once Hingast arrives."

"Perhaps." Tamsin shrugged. "But if the boy is any good – and it looks like he _is_ – political inertia may set in. And the Senate will be happy to stay with what is familiar."

"A sylph as Emperor is too much change for most to handle."

"Right now I agree with you." Tamsin smiled and glanced at Jenn again. "But will that be the same next year? Or the one after?"

Zandra resisted shaking her head. "Human affairs need a human ruler," she said.

Tamsin nodded. "In Olista's time in public service, we have built up an extensive network of friends. Low as well as high. You know what I am saying? Of course you do. My husband supports your husband. _I_ support your husband."

"You have a proposal."

Tamsin laughed. "I do. A compact between us."

Zandra leaned back and smiled. "Jenn: more alovak, please."

***

Nobody would dare restrict an ilven's movements, so Djerana came and went as she pleased. She spent her first day after Zenepha's coronation sightseeing, particularly impressed by the pyramid dwarfing the city. At first, she wandered unrecognized, as no human realized what walked among them. That lasted almost twenty minutes.

From some strange innate sense, sylphs immediately knew an ilven and most bowed, or stared wide-eyed. Once recognized, a small crowd gathered to see this exotic creature most believed existed only in legend.

Djerana did not think the humans intended to harm her, but she retreated to the palace anyway. The whole way, people offered water and alovak; sweetmeats, bread and dried fruit, small gemstones and spring flowers. Refusing everything, she all but fled.

The next morning, a group of barren women and sylphs gathered outside the palace. They hoped that an ilven's touch would bestow the gift of creating life they believed should be theirs. Too polite to set them right, Djerana submissively obliged, before she decided to stay in.

After that, the population got used to her.

Sylphs still stared at her with a strange mixture of awe and terror. She looked at sylph scouts with a similar attitude. Human children ran after her, asking if the lady ilven would like water, or something to eat. But generally, she was left alone.

After three days, she had seen everything she wanted of the city and instead stared wistfully north, towards the forests. If not for the danger of an approaching enemy, she would be outside the walls, exploring.

She had been brought here to attach herself to Marcus Vintner. Being independently minded, she made her own decisions and, if Grayar suggested one course of action, she often liked to spite him by following another.

Marcus, as interesting as any human who wanted to put himself into history, paled to insignificance compared with the intriguing notion of a sylph Emperor. A fascinating study in his own right, Zenepha was the only sylph she had heard of to rule humans. She wanted to see how good a job he made of it. She _wanted_ him to make a good job of it. Humans could be a touch... arrogant.

But she suspected that Grayar _knew_ how she would react.

He had brought her here but, after the first night, he had left her completely alone. If not for Olista, she would have nowhere to sleep! The Supreme Councilor had ensured she had a comfortable room in the palace and offered a couple of sylphs to serve during her stay.

With no need of servants, Djerana had refused the sylphs. A battle she lost.

"Going into the city, _alvanya_?" asked Nata, the sylph who had come with the room. Olista's compromise: one servant, not two.

Djerana changed her mind about going into the city for the twelfth or fourteenth time that morning. "I'll stay in today, thank you."

Nata bobbed her head before she scurried out of the room, carrying the cup and plate the ilven had used.

Djerana made her way to Zenepha's briefing room. Without knocking, she pushed the door open and padded barefoot within. She ignored the few glares directed her way, but acknowledged smiles and nods. Zenepha looked up, flashed her a quick grin and wound up his meeting. As the politicians filed out, leaving only Marcus, Zenepha crossed to join the ilven.

"Thought you were going into the city," he said.

"Changed my mind," replied Djerana, emerald eyes sparkling. She sat on the rug in the center of the floor, folding her long legs beneath her. Zenepha sat opposite.

"Settling in all right?" asked the Emperor. "The nearest forest is not too far away. That is, if you're feeling homesick."

Djerana tilted her head back. "An enemy is coming so it is safer to stay inside the city. And being in a forest would not stop homesickness."

"You do not miss your sisters?"

"No. I can sense they are all still alive, so there's no need to worry about them, or miss them. Well, perhaps Djeni, my bathing partner."

"You can sense your sisters?" interrupted Marcus.

Ilven and sylph turned together; both had forgotten he'd stayed behind.

"All ilven can sense each other," replied Djerana.

Zenepha and Marcus stared at her.

"It's like... oh, like a buzz inside. We're only aware of it if we concentrate. Grayar tells me that humans and sylphs do not have this sense. It must be very lonely inside your heads."

Marcus chuckled. "Don't worry about us," he replied. "We fill our heads with plenty of junk to stop them from feeling lonely."

Djerana smiled politely, wondering if the human sported with her.

"Who is Djeni?" asked Zenepha. "Bathing partner?"

"She arrived a moon after me," replied the ilven. "We are close friends, which is why we are bathing partners. To clean where we cannot reach ourselves, such as the middle of the back."

"She might be cross that you have left her to come here."

Djerana grinned again. "She's used to my wandering off to satisfy my curiosity about humans."

"No curiosity about sylphs?" Zenepha's earpoints wilted a little.

"A tribe of sylphs lives within the ilvenhome. We know all about your race. It is humans that fascinate me. And you."

"Me?"

"Nata tells me you personally ensured she got work here; before that she begged and lived on the street."

"Just helping a friend find her feet."

"And there are other reasons why you fascinate me. You rule humans. A sylph Emperor." A trace of jealousy entered the ilven's voice. "You can read and write human letters. There is much about you to interest me."

"I don't know if I can rule humans," began Zenepha, but Marcus interrupted.

"His Majesty has made an excellent beginning in righting the neglect that has plagued Marka for years," said Marcus, speaking to the ilven, but for the sylph's benefit. "He is a superb Emperor."

"Glowing words from one who wants the Throne." Djerana took the edge from her comment with a smile. "A human rarely puts another's interest before his own."

"Believe me, what Zenepha does is in my interest." With that, Marcus nodded to them both and left the room.

"A powerful human is always a joy to me," remarked the ilven. She stared as the door shut behind Marcus. "And he is a particularly interesting one. I wonder... Perhaps, if I was a little younger."

"You look young now."

Djerana's attention returned to the sylph and she smiled. "I'm more than middle-aged for an ilven. I have thirty-five summers."

***

Mikhan Annada – Marshal of Sandester and now also of Marka – inspected the work intended to protect the city in case of siege. In the likely event of siege. Mikhan held no illusions concerning Hingast's intentions. The people of this city hid behind a fool's mask of complacency, believing the fiction that, as Marka had not suffered a siege in centuries, it would never happen. Unlike most of the men under his command, Mikhan knew what Hingast sometimes did to cities that fell into his hands. If he were a Markan, he would be very worried.

Mikhan knew what it was to be in a besieged city.

"That building." He pointed to it with his baton.

"Sir?" Lieutenant Patisk of the City Guard waited for the Marshal to continue.

"It is a depository, yes? It must be faced with stone or brick. Wooden buildings burn when catapults send in fire. And put a ranging mangonel here for extra defense. Nothing like scaring the crap out of enemy bombardiers with a dose of their own medicine!"

_This old boy's enjoying himself_ , thought Patisk, before passing the orders on. He followed his new commander.

"There are a lot more essential buildings of wood than I expected," said Mikhan, making conversation. "Ensure they are faced properly."

"And the rest, Sir? The _non_ -essential buildings?"

"We'll destroy those ourselves. Unless you know of a way to increase the supply of brick overnight? Thought not."

"A shame to destroy perfectly good buildings, Sir."

"When Hingast gets here, he'll catapult fire into the city. We want no uncontrolled fires, it's a waste of precious water supplies to bring 'em under control. What of the granaries?"

"They'll all be within the walls before the end of the week," replied Patisk.

"Good." Mikhan knew the food depositories were originally inside the city, as in Sandester, but the Markans had grown slack. The civil war had bypassed the old capital for far too long and many had forgotten that war still raged.

They reached the industrial quarter, where the marshal again pointed with his baton. "No sign of activity here."

Patisk sighed. "Some of the Guilds are reluctant to move, Sir."

"We cannot risk all of Marka's industries in one place. We've told them this! Marka has enemies within the walls and they know where the industrial quarter is. All Hingast need do is concentrate his fire here and Marka loses them all."

"We've told them, Sir. Captain Crallin has told them, Sir."

"And?"

Patisk looked pointedly at the marshal's baton.

"Oh, speak freely man!"

"It was, ah, suggested that you do not know their business, Sir."

Mikhan sniffed. "Tell 'em they don't know mine. I'm not suggesting _how_ they run their businesses, only _where_ they run them. If they've got better ideas how to conduct the defense of a city under siege, tell 'em I'll be delighted to meet 'em." His blue eyes twinkled in sudden humor. "The guild leaders have got three days to get themselves sorted, or I'll use their city villas for stables."

"We'll tell them, Sir."

"Good."

"Is all this really necessary, Sir?" asked Patisk. "Aren't we overdoing it a bit?"

Mikhan regarded the younger officer. "How many sieges have you withstood, Lieutenant?"

"None, Sir."

"Thought not." He continued to walk along the walls and nodded to the men he passed.

"What are they like, Sir?"

The older man stopped and gestured outside the walls. "See all that?" he asked.

Patisk stared at the land, where men from the army were clearing all the trees within a mila of the city. "Empty land, where there should be farms and forest."

Mikhan ignored the comment. Lots of Markans complained about the loss of "their" forest. Fools to let the trees grow so damned close to the walls. Guilds – again! – complained about the loss of valuable crops. "Men and war machines filling that land, as far as your eye can see. Knowing there are more in the forest beyond, knowing that they'll pillage your farms and your food and next year's reserves. Drinking all the water, trying to find where yours comes from and either dam or poison it. Look at that land and try to see it black with men, all wanting to see you dead and quite capable of sitting it out for years."

Patisk swallowed. He could imagine it.

"There is nowhere to run during a siege, nowhere to hide. Your enemy runs out of stones or green fire and he sends for fresh supplies. You run out and you're dead."

"I see." The younger officer swallowed again. "This is why you're sending down new bores to increase water supplies?"

"Yes. And we'd better hope Hingast never realizes our water comes from an underground river."

"As far as we know, the surface rivers and streams do not filter down to it."

"Better hope they don't."

"What about the families following on from Sandester and Calcan?" Patisk decided to change the subject.

"They'll be here before Hingast." Mikhan smiled. "There are experienced soldiers with both groups."

Patisk stared out across the land again. "Hingast can fill all that land with soldiers and machines?"

"Certainly enough to surround the city." Mikhan smiled and tapped his nose. "I have plans of how to deal with him when he gets here."

As the marshal spoke, Patisk began to feel better.

***

Petan had kept close watch on the sylph beggar ever since Marlen first suggested the boy might be a threat. He knew every moment of the sylph's daily routine. People would notice if he simply crossed over the road to snatch the creature, so he must be circumspect. Occasionally during the day, the sylph tended to disappear down an alleyway further along the street. He had inspected that alleyway and laid his plans. Like most alleyways in most cities, this one served as a rubbish dump and emergency latrine. Even better, it was a dead end with no obvious escape routes. Petan had put an old rug on a ledge last night, ready for today. The sylph usually made his first alley visit midmorning.

Right on cue, the sylph stood, draped his blanket around his shoulders and disappeared into the alley. A few moments later, Petan followed and collected his rug. Luckily, the engrossed sylph never realized he had company until too late.

With a squeal of indignation and fright mixed together, the beggar hastily adjusted his breeches and turned to flee. For his size, Petan could move when needed and quickly wrapped the sylph in the rug. The boy struggled like the girls Petan had enjoyed in his raiding days. He reacted no differently now. He slapped the sylph on the head and told him to lie still on pain of death.

Easier than hunting rabbits.

***

Once his captors freed him from the rug, Janin sat up and rubbed his eyes. He gasped for breath as his earpoints lashed. His anger dissipated as he looked around. A dank stone floor chilled him and he guessed he sat in the Guildsman's ale cellar. Or perhaps an annex to the cellar proper, as there were no casks here. He opened his mouth to say something, saw who sat opposite, and closed it again.

He instantly recognized the man with pale blue eyes and dark hair: the leader of Marka's enemies in the city. He and his men obviously knew he was spying, but what else did they know? This man's questions would betray his ignorance. Janin's earpoints leaned back into his hair as anger turned to fear.

"My name is Marlen Ulan Masser. What's yours?"

The sylph saw no harm in answering. "Janin."

"Janin- _y_...?"

The sylph scowled. "No owner," he replied. "I am a beggar."

"We noticed." Marlen almost smiled. "But most beggars in this city have an owner, do they not? Gangs own you, control where you beg and take the money you collect. Others belong to the rulers of this city, spying on foreigners in exchange for somewhere to sleep and protection from the nasty people who beat sylphs who cannot beg for enough coin."

Janin blinked but said nothing.

"You don't appear to suffer from frequent beatings," continued Marlen, conversationally, "so I'm forced to assume you belong to the second group. Who do you spy for? Supreme Council? This... _sylph_ pretend-Emperor?"

"I always get plenty of coin," said Janin, quickly. "I am a good sylph."

Marlen touched a small pile of coins, mostly copper. "Not enough for a human controller," he said. "Not in a major city."

Janin stared. If nothing else, this man didn't know he worked for Sandev.

"Well, Janin-allegedly-no-owner, you might be very good at avoiding beatings from your owner, perhaps because you offer something else?"

Janin began to hate the man before him.

"I have a deal for you, boy." Marlen's voice and expression hardened. "You tell me who you work for, or _I_ will beat you."

"I am a beggar," replied Janin. His fear strengthened.

Marlen steepled his fingers before interlacing them. "Very well. Petan."

The sylph's eyes widened as Petan stepped forward and grabbed him. He drew his breath sharply as both arms were twisted behind his back.

"Last chance, boy. Who do you work for?"

"I beg."

Marlen drove his fist into the sylph's midriff as hard as he could.

***

Belaika watched the scouts stream out of the gate. The recent birth had granted him the privilege of extra time in the reserve, so he could look after his wife. A larger child than normal for sylphs, the gwerin's birth had proved a strain and Eleka still felt its after-effects.

Thankfully, his owner agreed that the best person to offer comfort and support must be Belaika. Not all owners were so understanding.

Salafisa did very well: she gurgled happily enough and demanded milk in a loud voice at too-regular intervals. Belaika had always wondered why infants weren't born with weaker lungs; these always reached maturity first. Probably the same throughout the animal kingdom.

Someone laid a hand on his shoulder. He started and looked down to meet Grayar's auguring gaze. He muttered a greeting.

"Wish you were with them?" asked the human, as he watched the scouts.

"Partly," replied the sylph.

"Only partly?" A bushy eyebrow arched at the taller sylph.

"My wife has a new child."

"The gwerin." Grayar nodded. "First gwerin birth I've heard of in many years."

"Many years?" Belaika knew this meant more than a handful. There were too many people with this "Gift" about for comfort.

"Many," affirmed Grayar. "There are perhaps twelve other gwerins I'm aware of on this continent, and about the same where I come from. I'm sure there are many more among the wild tribes, which they usually come to lead. Sylphs do not treat them the same as the full-blood infertiles." His voice held a tone of disapproval.

"Those infertiles are common," said Belaika. "Humans hold them in low status as well, but gwerins are different. Humans heap honors onto parents who produce them. Gwerins are intelligent and valuable."

"Most humans are foolish some of the time and some are foolish most of the time," sniffed Grayar. "Gwerins are also feared by many; by those who are fools."

"Why?"

"Because gwerins are intelligent and eventually seen as a threat. Because age brings wisdom and the longer you live, the wiser you become - and gwerins live a long time. Because people cannot always see a gift is also a curse. Because sometimes their advice leads to hardship, even if a lesser hardship than if that advice is ignored. Because they are impartial and fair minded. And because they're not infallible; sometimes they get it wrong. The Emperor does not boast the title 'Lord Protector of Gwerins' for no reason at all."

"Sound like excuses."

"Exactly what they are. The main reason people come to fear them is because there is more human than sylph in gwerins."

"How can that be so?" Belaika blinked and his earpoints slanted forward.

Grayar stared directly at the scout. "You'd hate us all if you knew what humans did to sylphs. Once a completely separate species, you've been mongrelized and scaled down in value and importance. Left with few of your true sylph's features, and those only to make you appear... exotic."

Belaika started. "How can this be true? Everyone knows sylphs and humans cannot breed together."

The human snorted. "Very few people understand how humans mixed themselves with true sylphs to produce the hybrid we now call sylphs. It happened even before humans arrived on the ilvenworld."

Belaika glanced skywards. "The Ark Star?" he asked.

"Even before then." Grayar shook his head. "Every now and again, sports are born, for some reason always in the infertile gender. One type of throwback is when the sylph part is stronger –"

"Monstrous sylphs," interrupted Belaika. "I heard of a huge one, covered in feathers all over. I don't know what happened to her."

"Probably killed, or put in a freak show. And probably died young, because so little of the original sylph is left."

"She never learned to talk and there were bony bumps between her shoulders."

Grayar spread his hands. "A throwback."

Belaika sniffed. "If sylphs used to look like that, then I am glad humans changed us," he retorted. "I prefer us the way we are now."

"I didn't say sports are a complete return to what sylphs were." Grayar tilted his head. "No more than the throwback we call a gwerin is fully human. The stock is too tainted for that. But gwerins have one, special, gift and this is why they are so valuable."

Belaika waited patiently.

Used to expectant silences from sylphs, Grayar continued.

"They are able to analyze a problem from all sides and come out with an answer, which is right more often than not. They're only as good as their information, but they are good at filling gaps. Every ruler desires a gwerin advisor, though very few ever acquire one."

"Now _enya_ has one," Belaika pointed out.

Grayar grimaced. "She will be of little use within your master's lifetime," he pointed out. "Salafisa will need training from an older gwerin, too."

" _Enya_ is certain the old palace gwerins will return," remarked Belaika. "Well, at least one of them."

"The more gwerins here, the better for your daughter. Though I must say the Vintners always looked after their advisors." Grayar smiled.

"What would a gwerin advise, _enya_?"

Grayar pursed his lips. "To hold fast to his beliefs. Zenepha will not remain Emperor, because a human must rule humans."

Belaika nodded, as if he expected to hear nothing different. He glanced up at the sun.

"I must return to my wife," he said, turning to leave.

"I'll walk back to the palace with you," offered Grayar.

Belaika steered the talk away from gwerins. "Where did you find Djerana?"

The human barked a quick laugh. "I didn't find Djerana, she found me. Humans don't find ilven, they introduce themselves if sufficiently interested. I've known her now for, oh, about twenty-five years, when she..."

***

Janin held in a groan. He dared not move as consciousness returned. Marlen's voice washed over him, but moments passed before he understood it again. Something wet and sticky covered him in places and he instinctively knew this must be his blood. Everything ached, but he held still and hoped to learn something if the humans believed he had not woken yet. After all, sylphs were tougher than most people realized. While eavesdropping on the conversation, he tensed individual groups of muscles to see if any were damaged.

He lay face down, but his face, mouth, nose and eyes ached; when he tried to open one eye, he found it curiously resistant and gave up trying. Something had matted his hair at the back and he suspected more blood might be responsible. His head felt like he imagined an anvil would feel, and dimly recalled it had been treated little different from that important tool of the blacksmith's trade.

He held himself as still as possible.

Back and stomach ached; Marlen had punched him several times, while Petan held him. Legs and arms felt almost as bad, but fortunately he didn't think he'd broken anything. It would be hard to escape with a broken limb. And likely be the end of him: sylph bones, though strong and surprisingly flexible, were very light and rarely healed well. A sylph with a broken bone was often soon a dead sylph.

"We must move carefully," said Marlen. "Whoever controls this boy has put such fear into him that we can't get the answers we want."

Oh good, he had not talked. The sylph didn't think Sandev put fear into him more than anyone else, but it would do no harm for the humans to think it. If they believed he feared his employer more than a severe beating from Marka's enemies, then perhaps they might fear this shadowy unknown, also. Moments later, his hopes were dashed.

"Assume the worst," continued Marlen, his voice rumbling ominously. "I'm certain the City Guard are fully aware of our presence and so is Sandev."

"When Hingast arrives," growled Petan, "we'll be forced to move."

"The move will be sooner than you think," replied Marlen.

Janin heard one of the humans move towards the door and open it.

"I must make arrangements now," said Marlen from the door. "I don't think we'll learn anything more from the boy. Kill him."

Petan grunted an affirmative as the door closed.

Janin sat upright, terror coursing from Marlen's last words.

Petan turned to face Janin.

The sylph stared back defiantly.

Petan smiled.

***
**Chapter 13**

Flying Cloud

The port had been bustling since dawn. Neptarik stared as workers landed the night's catch and watched the still-wriggling fish with interest. His earpoints twitched forward and his mouth watered. Balnus tugged him along to stop him getting separated from the others.

Kelanus set as good a pace as possible along the crowded quayside, dodging workers and crates, handcarts and horses, twisting this way and that. He led their borrowed packhorse, striding confidently, knowing the way to the _Flying Cloud_. He had described the ship to his companions: a three-masted vessel with an ornate stern, the only great galley in the harbor. Not that any of them knew much about ships.

Pulled away from yet another landed catch, Neptarik turned his attention to the humans and sylphs as they struggled and sweated through the throng. They avoided other equally busy workers with apparent ease, clearly used to the press of people.

His gaze flickered upwards to watch ships' spars, converted to temporary cranes, lift boxes, barrels, crates and livestock from the ships onto the quay, or from the quay to ships about to leave. More used to army maneuvers and scouting, he viewed this display of trade and commerce with curiosity. Some things he saw were confusing.

For example, three grubby sylph infertiles sprawling on fishing nets piled on the foredeck of one of the fishing smacks. They watched the men – human men! – work, while they lounged, faylike in ragged yellow shirts and breeches. One became aware of his stare, pointed him out to her companions and poked her blue tongue at him. All three fell giggling against each other, but the crowd swept Neptarik on before he could react.

"Why are those sylphs not working?" he demanded.

Though aimed at Balnus, Tahena answered. "They are ship sylphs. Looks like they are left alone when their ships are alongside."

"They should still be working." The confused scout glanced back towards the yellow clad sylphs, but there were too many people in the way for even a glimpse. Having seen some, everywhere he looked he now saw sylphs dotted about not working. And all the idlers were infertiles.

A few kept an eye on cargo or crew as things were carried across gangways or slung from the temporary cranes. Some lounged against ship rails, watching the bustling quay with a seen-it-all-before expression, or chatted with officers. Others were curled up asleep in quiet corners, or basked in the sunshine.

Most sylphs worked as hard as any human, which came as no surprise since this was normal behavior. They loaded carts, chatted cheerfully with each other and the human workers, and gave Neptarik and his companions curious looks. Perhaps they wondered what the strangers wanted.

The scout noticed the sylphs here used a slightly different dialect from his own; some words were changed subtly, while others were mangled almost beyond recognition. He wondered why humans did not share this variety of speech.

His attention returned to the ship sylphs. "What are they _for_?" he wondered aloud.

Kelanus looked over his shoulder and smiled at the sylph. "We'll find out soon enough what a ship's sylph is for. You may not believe in it and you may find it ridiculous, but take care not to mock others' beliefs. Especially when relying on their goodwill."

Neptarik looked at his owner who shrugged. "I'm just a simple soldier," said Balnus. "Ships and the sea mean nothing to me."

They came to an empty part of the quay. Men guarded neatly stacked cargo, ready to be put aboard a ship, but this part of the quay had nothing tied to it. Just a gap of perhaps three hundred pacas.

"The Portmaster said the _Flying Cloud_ would be here." Kelanus could barely keep frustration from his voice, lashing the packhorse's rope up and down. At the other end, the animal gave the human a patient stare.

Hearing the ship's name mentioned, one of the men crossed the quay to join them. "The ship thought she was taking on water, so they've gone to make sure she's not."

_The ship thought?_ Neptarik mouthed to Balnus. _The_ ship _?_

Balnus shrugged.

The man pointed towards the sea. "She's on her way back now."

Neptarik stared across the harbor and his eyes widened. The large vessel just taking in sail would fill the gap alongside the quay. Three banks of oars flashed in the strengthening sunlight. As Kelanus had said, this must be the biggest ship here. Stunned, Neptarik stared.

The ship came closer and closer, and the sylph craned his neck to look up towards the deck. That deck would stand high above the quayside once the ship actually came alongside. But how could it, with oars stuck out of both sides?

He soon found out. As one, the starboard oars pushed against the water, while those on the port side continued to pull, turning the ship port side to the quay, perhaps a ship's length away. The port oars now lifted and disappeared as the ship moved sideways towards the quay. This must be something to do with the starboard oars, though Neptarik could not see what. They must be using a different method of rowing. The ship crept closer to the quay.

"Heads!"

Startled, Neptarik and his companions jerked away as thin lines were thrown to the men on the quayside. With practiced ease, the lines were hauled across, mooring ropes attached. Then it seemed the humans suddenly switched languages, with their talk of springs and breast ropes, head rope and stern rope.

Neptarik and his owner exchanged another mystified look.

"This one's ours," said Kelanus.

Tahena nodded her head. "Yes," she whispered to herself. "This one will do us _very_ well."

The ship shone, her owners obviously wealthy enough to care for her properly. Spars and ropes gleamed in the early sunshine and the paintwork looked as if it had been fresh only days before. Dockworkers pushed a wooden tower – resembling a short siege engine – towards the ship and they saw ladders leading up inside the tower to the gangway. Having seen the ship secured, the would-be passengers turned back to the men on the quay.

A man in a blue jacket and a boy climbed down the tower. "Run to the Portmaster," the man said, "and tell him we need forty fresh barrels of water. And make sure it's the cooper who made the barrels and not his useless apprentice."

The boy nodded and ran along the quay. Kelanus stepped up to the man as he reached the quay.

"I'm looking for Captain Liffen Trallon," he said. "We have passage to the southernmost point of your journey."

The other men standing around took no notice, but the man in the blue jacket nodded. "The Captain is aboard," he replied. "Repp told us to expect you. I'm First Mate Sedaro and part owner of the _Flying Cloud_. Is the animal to be returned to the Portmaster?"

Kelanus nodded. "Those are all our boxes."

"Good to see you're traveling light." Sedaro nodded to the crewmen. "Make sure those go aboard with the first batch of cargo. Caylan, will you take that animal back to the Portmaster please? Follow the lads, they'll show you to your stateroom." He grimaced. "Cloudy's still poking about in the bilges, or she'd show you the way."

"What was that about a leak?" asked Tahena.

Sedaro grimaced. "The ship convinced herself she was taking on water, but we found nothing wrong with the planks. Halfway round the harbor, Cloudy realized the water in the bilge was fresh, not salt. A batch of bad barrels from the cooper; he should take a strap to that shirker pretending to be his apprentice."

Neptarik exchanged a look with Balnus before he clambered up the short tower that led to the gangplank. Ignoring the lack of handrails, he crossed to the ship and his mouth fell open.

He had crossed onto the rowing platform and a few steps led down onto the ship's deck. Crewmen were busy everywhere: restowing cargo, battening down one hold's hatches and opening another, coiling ropes, preparing the main yard for use as a crane, cleaning up spills and breakages. Activity everywhere he looked. The passengers were led aft, and down two ladders. As they were ushered into their stateroom, one of the crewmen knocked on the door beside theirs.

"Captain, sir," said the crewman, "our guests are here, but Cloudy's still busy."

Neptarik ran across the stateroom and pressed his nose against the glass at the extreme end of the ship. He saw the walkway outside, but stared instead at the water, while he hummed some nameless tune.

"At least it's clean," remarked Balnus, looking around at the six cots and the easy chairs screwed into the deck. "I've heard some ships are filthy."

Kelanus nodded, but he turned as the door opened again and a smile split his face. "Good morning, Captain."

Captain Liffen returned the smile and turned it on each of them as they were introduced. He bowed to Tahena while holding her hand and made a fuss over Neptarik, complimenting Balnus on having such a fine sylph. Introductions over, he turned to Kelanus. "You're a little earlier than expected. We don't sail until tomorrow morning, so feel free to come and go as you please. By all means explore the ship. I trust the quarters are sufficient?"

"Much better than expected," replied Kelanus. "The Portmaster made an excellent recommendation."

"Cloudy will be disappointed she was not here to greet you personally," continued Liffen, a hint of regret in his voice. "She's still rummaging through the bilges; when the ship gets an idea, she tends not to let go easily."

Neptarik began to wonder if all sailors were a little mad.

"The leak that never was?" asked Tahena, with a grin.

Liffen frowned. "We had a leak all right, just not the sort sailors dread." He abruptly changed the subject. "I trust you and your companions will dine with me and my officers tonight. Is it your custom for sylphs to dine with you? No?" He turned to Neptarik. "Perhaps you would prefer to eat with Cloudy. It is rare for her to have sylph company when at sea. Later then." Turning on his heel, he left the stateroom and returned to his duties.

"He talks of this Cloudy as if she's some sort of god," grumbled Neptarik. "And what is she? An infertile."

Tahena laughed. "I think Neptarik's jealous another sylph is the center of attention. She's the ship's sylph. You'll find out everything about her when you dine with her."

Neptarik nodded.

After their boxes had been brought down, Kelanus left them, wearing a secretive smile. He acknowledged Tahena's hissed reminder that Sallis ti Ath could not be very far away with a brief nod.

"I wouldn't be at all surprised if he passes through the city gates this morning," she warned.

The General smiled and nodded again. "The Captain said we can go where we wish today. Ti Ath or no ti Ath, this ship's going nowhere until tomorrow. Don't save anything for me at midday." With that, he was gone.

"He's up to something," muttered Tahena, unhappily. "But what?"

They spent most of the morning unpacking their boxes and claiming a cot. Although Neptarik said he was happy to sleep on the deck, he moved as fast as the others to claim a proper bed. From his new vantage, the sylph enjoyed the view from the stern windows. A timid knock on the door heralded two shy human boys, each with a platter heaped with fruits and vegetables.

Balnus thanked them for the food.

After eating, the humans wanted to go ashore, while Neptarik wanted to explore the ship. They agreed to part, Balnus warning his sylph not to get in anyone's way.

"Remember," he cautioned, "you know nothing about ships."

Neptarik inclined his head and left, without even a hint of a _se bata_. He trotted up the two ladders and emerged to daylight and strong sunshine. He blinked while his pupils narrowed to vertical slits.

The nearest crewman polished the ship's wheel. He had never seen one of these things before and stared at it, wondering how it worked. Turning away, he wandered slowly along the deck, ignoring the stern castle and the rowing platforms towering above him.

He glanced over coamings to see every cargo hatch secure, ready for sea. With little to see here, he walked forward and leaned on the stempost before realizing he could scramble over the bulwark. The area between the bowsprit and the heads of the ship was planked in, giving a strange sort of platform, with holes cut into it on both sides. He had failed to notice it because the yard for the foresail lay in the way, the sail neatly wrapped underneath, ropes securing the canvas. He leaned on the bulwark and watched the busy port below.

The quays still heaved with stevedores and slaves, sailors and women, all moving cargoes or bartering goods and services. Knots of sylphs were with them, but Neptarik noted more idle infertile sylphs, mostly on the other vessels. Two fishing boats were moored ahead of the _Flying Cloud_ and each had its own sylph curled up asleep on nets. Their presence still puzzled him.

He turned to stare out to sea, wondering how he would cope with it. They would lose sight of land altogether; he found this both hard to believe and unsettling. Open spaces didn't bother him – sylphs worried by those were quickly weeded out of scout training – but he had never been out of sight of land before.

He became aware he was no longer alone.

Neptarik turned and came face to face with an infertile sylph, a hint of mischief glinting in her silvery gray eyes. Her earpoints slanted forwards and twitched in interested curiosity. Barefoot, a cream shirt flapped loose of her pale blue breeches, which ended just above her knee. She wore no decoration except a silver collar. She grinned at him, a curious smile that lifted one corner of her mouth slightly higher than the other.

"You must be Neptarik- _y_ -Balnus. I am Melnea, but only the Sailing Master calls me that and then only when I am in trouble. Most call me Cloudy, after the ship. We have passengers from time to time, but you are the first sylph passenger I have seen on my decks for some time."

She stumbled with her spoken sylph, as if she had little opportunity to practice her native language. Not to mention mangling every second or third word almost beyond recognition.

"I am Neptarik," he replied and turned back to survey the port.

Not so easily diverted, Cloudy moved around with him. "I can show you around my decks, if you like."

"Your decks?" He blinked at the infertile. "Does the ship belong to you?"

Cloudy giggled. "No, silly! Other way round. I am the ship's sylph and she lives inside me." She looked curiously into the other sylph's eyes and her expression grew more solemn, the mischievous glint fading. "You do not believe. No matter. I did not, either, until it happened to me."

"It is a strange idea. I might get used to it."

The infertile's smile returned. "Sure you will. Let me show you around."

***

Balnus and Tahena returned from the city to find Neptarik and the ship's sylph sat on the floor in the stateroom. As the sylphs stood, the humans stared at Cloudy, who bowed politely.

"Apologies for not welcoming you aboard earlier, so I welcome you now. One is missing?"

"Pleased to meet you," said Tahena. "Kelanus is yet to return. I am sure we're in for a good passage."

Cloudy's earpoints twitched and then wilted as she stared the southern woman. "One or two storms maybe, but nothing too bad. I must attend to something. Please excuse me."

Neptarik was surprised by the speed at which the ship sylph excused herself and wondered if she had suddenly turned shy. Why had she fled?

"Well?" demanded Tahena, the moment the door was shut. "What do you think of the ship's sylph?"

Neptarik, who had heard plenty about pirates infesting the seas south of the Imperial Republic, and a miraculous dolphin piloting ships into some harbor or other, considered. "She talks a lot," he replied, eventually. "She says it is because she speaks for two – the ship and herself."

"Did she show you around?" asked Balnus.

Neptarik nodded. "The ship is very impressive. She knows a lot about the _Flying Cloud_."

"So she should." Tahena smiled. "She's been aboard the ship ever since her launch."

"You're dining with her tonight," Balnus reminded him.

Neptarik nodded. "Sylphs do not forget what they are told. We pay attention. Where is Kelanus- _ya_?"

"Here," the General replied from the doorway.

"Where've you been?" demanded Tahena. "Sallis –"

Kelanus held up a hand. "I know, Sallis ti Ath could be here any moment. You told me he can follow my trail."

Tahena nodded irritably.

"I've left it all through this city. It should take him some time to follow us to the dockside."

The southern woman was not impressed. "Don't you think ti Ath knows we've come here to take a ship?" Her dark eyes sparkled. "He worked out we were headed here in the first place; he'll guess why."

Kelanus shrugged. "Perhaps. But he'll find few allies, Marka does not bear sway here. He has no authority."

Tahena returned the shrug. "Perhaps not. But the Trading Council might listen to him. They always hold a favorable opinion of Marka, even in the worst of times."

"I think it's time to be getting ready for this meal," interrupted Balnus. "It can't be too much longer before we eat."

***

Tahena looked around at her dining companions. Balnus puffed contentedly on a freshly lit pipe. Captain Liffen drew on his own pipe, face wreathed in gray-blue bacca smoke. Three of the four mates were present: First Mate Sedaro, who had first sent them aboard, Second Mate Steffin and Third Mate Raldtu. The Sailing Master, a middle-aged man named Tefric, also dined. Tahena understood this ship's officer – the only one not a part owner – had responsibility for the ship's sylph. Her care and welfare fell to him. The Fourth Mate and the Master's Mate were on watch.

"So Captain," said Kelanus lazily, "how long before we reach the south?"

"Five weeks."

"That soon?" Kelanus looked genuinely surprised. He had speculated that it would take them at least half a year – if not longer – to walk to their destination. And three months to sail there. " _Flying Cloud_ is that fast?"

"She's a good ship," put in the Sailing Master, forcefully. "And fast. Just overhauled and has a clean bottom."

Liffen smiled. "We could make it in three weeks, but the brandy we're carrying now will be traded for rum at Beshar; the rum for manufactured goods and clothing in the Imperial Republic; that cargo for tea in Emplar; the tea for bacca in the far south. It's the bacca we bring back that pays for the entire voyage, this time around. The next will be exotic fruit. People pay a fortune. We'll be slowed a little by Cloudy." He sighed. "She insists on waiting for the High Festival in Hejiller. Says the ship enjoys it as much as anyone else."

"And you're practiced at finding the best winds," added Kelanus.

The Sailing Master nodded. "That and the ship now knows where we can cut corners."

"The _ship_ now knows?"

Tahena placed a calming hand on the Kelanus's sleeve.

"She's seventeen years old," put in Liffen, "and has plied these waters all that time, together with myself and Tefric. Being the last two original members of the ship's company, we know every inca of the way."

"And the ship sylph, of course," remarked Balnus.

"Cloudy is very useful," agreed Tefric. "We bought her even before the ship's launch. With the help of one of the Gifted and another ship's sylph, of course. No way of telling if ship and sylph will work together or even like each other else."

"One of the Gifted. Of course." Balnus hid his smile behind a wreath of pipe smoke.

Tahena gritted her teeth. Were these soldiers determined to get themselves thrown off before they had even sailed? Unfortunately, Balnus sat too far away to get his shins kicked.

Liffen's smile was polite. "Without a sylph for the ship, long distance sailing would be all but impossible. As it is, most ships still hug the coast and find somewhere to shelter at night. _Flying Cloud_ is one of the few to venture further out and sail through the night."

" _Morning Dawn_ is another," added the Sailing Master. " _Scudder_ sometimes. _Matreya_ does it all the time."

"It's thanks to the ship and sylph working so well together that it's possible at all. Cloudy is indispensable."

"I wonder how she's getting along with Neptarik." Kelanus stroked his chin thoughtfully and grinned. "I'm sure I heard a bump, earlier."

***

Neptarik smiled around the splinter he used to clean between his teeth and patted his stomach with his free hand. The two sylphs had enjoyed their meal of fish and vegetables, though Cloudy left most of the fish for him.

She broke the silence first.

"The ship says that you would make an excellent ship's sylph. Most sylphs do, of course, but very few are happy about it. Humans only bother looking for infertiles... Why do you stare at me like that?"

"What did you say?" Neptarik's voice squeaked.

"You would make an excellent ship's sylph."

"But you said that the _ship_ says."

"She does."

The scout decided this sylph was insane.

Cloudy giggled. "Let me try something," she said, her eyes alight. "If I put my hand on your forehead and you put your hand –"

Neptarik moved instinctively, landing with a loud thud on the far side of the stateroom.

A small frown furrowed the other sylph's brow and she glanced at the palm of her hand, puzzled. She looked up. "Have I frightened you?"

The two sylphs stared at each other from opposite sides of the cabin. One sylph's earpoints twitched in amusement, and the other's were laid as far back as possible.

"What were you going to do?" demanded the male sylph, suspicion thickening his tone.

"Just let the ship into you. It does not hurt. She would tell me things I could not possibly know, then she could tell you things about me. It will help me prove I am not making this up. Or that I am mad." A small smile twisted her mouth; she must have guessed his thoughts. "She is not too intrusive."

"Are you a sorceress?" His earpoints had still not recovered.

Cloudy laughed. "That is a human ability. How many sylphs do you know who can conjure?"

"I never knew any who claimed to have a ship living inside them, either!"

"You have never been near the sea; there are lots of us."

"All right," muttered Neptarik, earpoints finally coming upright. "Try it again."

The two sylphs moved closer to each other.

"You may find it easier to show her things, perhaps from when you were younger. It is better than having her rummage through." Cloudy gave a villainous smile. "You never know what she might uncover. Secrets you prefer to keep that way perhaps?"

As she pressed a palm to his forehead, he pressed his hand against her head. His awareness of the other sylph grew, he felt the heat from her hand. He...

...felt another presence.

He glanced fearfully to one side, almost dislodging the other's hand. Cloudy gave a small squeak of protest and shifted.

"Do not break the link."

The other presence entered his mind again.

He almost pulled away as the connection hit him. He sensed every inca of the ship, felt wind playing through the rigging, almost tasted the water under her hull. Somehow he knew how many people were aboard the ship, vaguely knowing everything the crew had ever shared with the ship and her sylph.

Show me.

The voice whispered in his mind and he almost replied aloud.

Show me, or I will see for myself.

Neptarik floundered for memories, remembering that some things he must not show.

As quickly as it had come, the presence retreated, leaving a sense of loss. Realization of what inhabited Cloudy flickered and was lost. The moment of knowledge ached, like a forgotten yet familiar word on the tip of his tongue. He relaxed and sagged to the deck, staring at Cloudy with increased respect. The other sylph was possessed, yet still independent.

Cloudy spoke. "She tells me you scout for an army and you were among the first to pass all the tests. But you have not always been honestly employed and this shames you, even though it should not. You were wounded the last time you were involved in a battle and received a commendation. You are proud of that, even if you try to hide it. You yearn for wives and children; having none weighs heavily with you and saddens your heart. The ship senses you feel incomplete."

"Enough," growled Neptarik, wondering how she could guess all of that. Was she a mind reader? He remembered the strange presence, its way of speaking directly into his mind, and grimaced. Perhaps the other sylph played a trick on him.

"Your turn." Again, she put her hand on his forehead.

_It took her moons to get as far as you are now,_ a voice said, directly into his mind. He almost jerked back in surprise, but remembered in time not to break the link.

What?

It took her moons. Don't doubt me; I know you have fear, that is natural the first time. Feel me again. I do not harm, will not harm.

The sensations were all back: the ship, the people aboard her, Cloudy. It came more easily this time. Easier to accept as well as recognize these new feelings.

_Do you like my Melnea? Many believe_ she _is the ship, not me. Do not let her tease you too much. I terrified her in the early days, and it took her a long time to grow used to me._

"She says it took you a long time to get used to her," said Neptarik, aloud.

Cloudy grunted as though struck.

She hated being out of sight of land. Almost a year, she feared that above all else. A weakness of your race perhaps.

Neptarik repeated what the ship told him.

Ask her to tell you what I am. I know she wants to.

"She says you want to tell me what you are," he repeated. "She told me to ask you. Well, I ask."

Ship, will you tell me what you are?

_Don't want to._ _I have secrets I do not wish to share._ He thought he detected a hint of mockery. _As do you._ With that, the ship's presence left Neptarik alone in his body.

"Well?"

Cloudy shook herself. "Not tonight," she said, but looked as though she argued with herself. "It is time to sleep; a long day for me tomorrow."

"But the ship –"

"Says too much sometimes." The ship sylph looked angry _._

_You learn my secrets, yet are unhappy to share your own._ Neptarik thought of the secrets he had held back from the ship, or whatever it really was, and relented.

"Tell you when we are at sea." Almost at the stateroom door, Cloudy paused. She looked as if the silent argument still raged. Perhaps she and the ship squabbled. But the ship's powers of persuasion had deserted her: the ship's sylph had made her decision.

"Where are you sleeping tonight?"

Cloudy paused and smiled, hand on the door. "At sea, I usually share the Sailing Master's cabin, or that of the Master's Mate. Sometimes, I sleep in one of the messdecks. But in harbor, my cabin is the sail locker. It is warmer there, not to mention being the traditional place for a ship sylph. Good night."

"Wait! I..." Neptarik's voice trailed off as the door closed softly behind Cloudy.

The scout stared resentfully at it, mind awhirl. So the ship sylph and the crew were not insane to believe in a ship somehow alive. Unless they played a very clever trick on him – and the Father knew how clever humans could be – _something_ obviously lived in the other sylph. And a something that used Cloudy in some way In return, Cloudy enjoyed a much higher status than she would get anywhere else.

It worried him that Cloudy – through whatever lived in her – knew everything going on throughout the ship _and_ everything about the crew. For a few moments, _he_ had felt it. Worse, the ship somehow knew he had secrets to keep. How much had she seen, or worked out, for herself?

But he knew he wanted to learn more.

***

Sallis ti Ath stared resentfully at the city gates, locked and barred for the night. Pointless to hammer on them; he had no authority here. Not that any city where he _had_ authority would open its gates after curfew. Annoying to know his target sheltered somewhere in the city; he would much prefer snaring Kelanus today rather than tomorrow. The trail leading to the city would be two days old in the morning and anything might have happened by then. He worried in case the fugitive had already left Cadister.

Finding a good place to spend the night, ti Ath curried and fed his horse, the animal fresh today. He had not been ridden quite as hard as the eight or nine horses he had used – run nearly to death in a couple of cases – to help him gain on Kelanus. He suspected the Gifted one riding with the fugitive used Sandev's network to supply fresh horses. He doubted if sorcerers were aware of the network. _He_ had no idea who the agents were: his training had ended long before he learned such things. Which in turn forced him to consider who really was helping Kelanus. Sorcerers seemed less and less likely, and that raised awkward questions.

He glanced at Cadister's city walls. Hardly an insignificant city, it might be difficult to locate Kelanus. There might be lots more attempts to deceive him. Sallis believed the man had come here to take ship to the Father-knew-where, so he hoped to catch the renegade before he sailed. Unless he found tracks fresher than the rest, meaning Kelanus had entered by one gate and fled through another, Sallis would head directly for the port itself.

He ran a very real and unacceptable risk of losing his prey. Returning to Marka without Kelanus would be shaming to say the least, and might even adversely affect his future employment prospects. Fortunately, he had not used all his letters-of-right to buy fresh horses. If he must, he could take a ship as well. If only he could discover where his targets were heading. Obviously south, but that covered a lot of potential countries and even more potential ports.

He had no wish to be a tourist, he would make more money in Marka.

He looked up at the stars. "Father, grant me Kelanus Butros," he whispered.

***

Neptarik was impressed. The ship hummed with organized activity: everybody knew his place and exactly what to do. The long wooden oars were ready, just in case the light wind failed them. More sailors stood beside halyards and sheets. Although the foremost and aftermost sails were already up and flapping in the wind, they were not sheeted in, these ropes flapping as uselessly as the sails for the moment. More men waited by the lines that secured the _Flying Cloud_ , ready to haul them in as the quay workers let them go. As the sylph watched, dockside workers drew the platform supporting the gangplank away, and singled up the lines securing the ship alongside, ready to be slipped at a moment's notice. He hummed snatches from 'Will I Ever See Home Again?'.

The gentle wind blew across the quayside and towards the sea. According to the Captain, this meant they had no need to "spring off", whatever he meant by that. Neptarik must ask Cloudy later.

Captain Liffen stood behind the helmsmen, watching everything. Each mate had his own station: the First had command of the oarsmen, the Second looked after the middle, or main, mast. Third Mate Raldtu commanded the foremast and headrope, while young Fourth Mate Naltor had the smallest of the masts – the mizzen – and sternrope to contend with. The Sailing Master strode up and down the sterncastle, checking everything from the sails to the direction and strength of the wind, while his mate stood beside the wheel.

Neptarik felt a twinge of envy when he saw who stood the other side of that wheel. Long hair tied back, bare feet planted apart, Cloudy looked fully capable at her station. Thick cotton blue trousers and shirt – both garments a little ragged with black patches in places – replaced the land clothes she wore yesterday. The silvery collar was the same and her eyes were alight with the thrill of leaving the land again.

The scout's attention turned to his companions. Tahena looked nervously at the dockside, but Kelanus and Balnus seemed more interested in the ship. Neptarik's eyes met Tahena's.

"He is here?" No need to ask who "he" was.

Tahena nodded unhappily. "In the city and getting closer every second. Kelanus's trick hasn't worked."

Cloudy and Tefric exchanged a nod.

"Let go for'ard!" called the Sailing Master. "Back the fores'l!"

The headrope splashed into the water as dockworkers freed it from its bollard. Two men on board pulled it in hand-over-hand, coiling it down and away. Men on the sheets forced the foresail against the wind, which helped push the bow away from the quay.

"Let go aft!"

The sternrope splashed into the water and men hauled it in.

As the ship turned from the quay and the headsail was sheeted in to fill, Tahena pointed toward the land. She ignored the activity around her as the mizzen sail was sheeted in and more men hauled on the halyards for the mainsail. The oarsmen were not needed, so they added their weight to the sheets and halyards, while others helped clear away the ship's mooring ropes.

Neptarik tried listening to the shantyman's rude lyrics as he encouraged the crew, who joined in his song and pulled in all the proper places.

"There!" Tahena pointed again.

Neptarik stared at the horseman in worn brown traveling clothes. He scattered workers and slaves as he galloped along the quay, cloak streaming behind. He wheeled his horse in two full circles and sawed the reins. His dark-brown eyes stared at Kelanus.

"That's Sallis ti Ath?" asked the sylph. He and his traveling companions stared down at the horseman, who seemed unperturbed at missing them.

"That's him."

"Lucky for him we've sailed," smiled Kelanus. "He doesn't look much to me."

"If you tried to fight him, you'd lose," promised Tahena.

When they glanced back, ti Ath had gone.

"Well, he missed us." Kelanus glanced down at Tahena. "Time to forget about him."

"You still don't get it." The southern woman shook her head. "He won't give up now. He'll either find another ship to chase us, or he'll ride to our next port."

Kelanus shrugged. "Until then, I intend to sit back and enjoy the journey. Sallis ti Ath's not a problem until the next port. I'll worry about him then."

***

Master's Mate Grenard relinquished the wheel to Cloudy, though he stayed close, in case needed again in a hurry. Neptarik stared in amazement as the ship's sylph deftly and expertly steered the ship out of the harbor. The Sailing Master followed her lead and gave orders to trim the sails as required.

The mainsail filled, and _Flying Cloud_ gathered speed.

A grin split Cloudy's face as she drew in a deep lungful of air. "It is so _good_ to be at sea," she declared.

Neptarik ignored her and stared at the horseman at the harbor end. Sallis ti Ath stared at them in turn. The scout found the tall figure unsettling, especially as he just sat on his horse; he didn't even look disappointed. He pushed down a sudden urge to gesticulate rudely at the rider, knowing his owner would disapprove.

"A friend who missed us?" asked Cloudy, from the wheel.

As the harbor slipped astern, Neptarik glanced back one last time, but ti Ath had gone. He pretended not to have heard the other sylph's question.

Once clear of the port and all sandbanks, the crew dropped into their normal sea routine. Half of the men stood down and promptly disappeared to their messes. A sailor relieved Cloudy of the wheel and she joined her passengers. She smiled at the expression on Neptarik's face.

"Yes," she said, "the size of the sea frightened me when I first sailed; it took the ship to calm me down. As she told you."

"I am not frightened," retorted Neptarik. "Just... amazed at the vastness of it." His eyes scanned the unbroken horizon ahead.

"Tomorrow and there will be no land to be seen anywhere."

"Is the wind changing?" asked Tahena.

Cloudy nodded. "Changing from the land wind to the sea wind," she replied. "No problem; the crew will handle it. When we pick up the trade wind tomorrow we will really start to move."

"Look!" Neptarik pointed to the sea. "What are they?"

The other sylph smiled. "Dolphins. Come and see!" Grabbing the scout's hand, she pulled him to the bows of the ship, scrambled over the bulwark and pointed down where the ship cut into the water.

They stared at the blue-gray and white creatures with bottle shaped noses as they darted and played about the ship's forefoot. They broke surface, vented their blowholes and performed acrobatics in the air. They obviously toyed with the ship, showing they were capable of even greater speed.

"They look so friendly."

Cloudy, pleasure on her face, smiled at him. "I always know we are properly at sea when they join us," she said. "Further out, we will probably see whales."

"Whales?"

"You will see," promised the ship's sylph.

***

"Is this the _Morning Dawn_? Headed for Beshar?"

Sallis ti Ath ignored the noise surrounding him as a last minute cargo was swung aboard the galley. The irritable chargehand of the stevedores pointed silently to the man on the ship's poop deck. Ti Ath remained on the quayside and repeated his question in the required direction.

The balding man, with the ship's sylph standing beside him, looked up and nodded.

"Have you room for a passenger? I'll pay well for Beshar." He flourished his purse.

"Aren't you the fellow as scattered everyone when _Flying Cloud_ left?"

Ti Ath nodded and smiled. "Missed my ship, I'm afraid. Portmaster Repp tells me you're also heading for Beshar."

"Aye. If it weren't for this flaming late cargo, I'd've gone this mornin' myself."

"When are you sailing?"

"Soon as this tide turns." The balding man – Sallis assumed he was the Captain – exchanged a glance with the sylph, who nodded. "Come aboard. We'll take you."

"Can you catch _Flying Cloud_?"

The Captain snorted. "You must be flaming joking. We'll reach Beshar a day or so after her. Maybe three. We can't go quite as fast as that one. Flaming close, but not enough."

Ti Ath paused. It would have to do. He smiled and nodded, waited for a convenient moment to cross the gangplank and, moments later, shook hands with the Captain and ship's sylph.

"I'm Sallis ti Ath."

"Captain Grath. The sylph's Dawnie."

The sylph gave a small bow. "The ship welcomes you to her decks, Sallis ti Ath."

"Thank you."

"If you have a flaming horse, sell it," continued Grath. "I've got no room for animals except if we're to eat 'em." He chortled at his own joke. "And hurry your flaming belongings aboard."

Ti Ath heaved his saddlebag. "The horse is already sold. This is all I have."

Grath smiled again. "Then welcome aboard."

***

Tahena and Balnus were the first passengers on deck the following morning. Kelanus wanted to sleep in, while Neptarik fussed over something on the sternwalk.

Though unqualified to speak on such matters, Tahena thought the _Flying Cloud_ probably the best cared for ship she had ever seen. Everything sparkled: the sails reflected the bright sunlight to almost unbearable levels, all ropes neat and maintained. The long oars gleamed from their places at the sides of the ship, stowed conveniently out of the way, yet ready for use.

"Good morning." Liffen greeted them as he came on deck to check the ship's course and log.

The two ship's boys offered fruit to the passengers before scampering away.

"Hardly a raised voice anywhere." Tahena smiled. "Such a relief."

"Probably experience," remarked Balnus. "They all know what they're about."

"I think Kelanus is a little ill from the motion," continued Tahena. "I hope your sylph isn't being seasick out the back there."

"Not I," said Neptarik, as he joined them on the upper deck. He looked and sounded cheerful enough. A long blink hinted at some discontent as he looked around at the unbroken horizon. A _completely_ unbroken horizon, with no land to be seen anywhere, as Cloudy had said.

"He sounds fine to me," said Balnus.

"Well, if ship sylphs can get used to being out of sight of land, I suppose hardy scouts are no different." Tahena smiled to take any sting out of her words.

"I am sure we are safe here, _donanya_ ," replied the sylph, a little formally.

Tahena watched Melnea – or Cloudy as she insisted on being called – chatting to the crew. Everybody seemed to love the bubbly infertile. In her patched and worn seagoing shirt and breeches she looked more street urchin than sailor, but the sylph obviously _was_ a sailor, and a good one at that.

She smiled at the passengers before taking the wheel. She had no problem holding a course, most unlike Neptarik's fumbled efforts the previous evening. In the end, Cloudy had taken the wheel from him, unintentionally humiliating him when she did. An infertile taking something away from a breeder... Some sylphs were touchy about these things.

"Better if we fall off a point," Cloudy announced from the wheel.

Tahena stared in amazement as the Captain nodded. "Make it so," he told the Sailing Master.

"Very well," Tefric told Cloudy, who made the necessary course alteration, while the crew adjusted the set of the sails. Indeed, it felt as though the _Flying Cloud_ moved a little faster through the water.

When Cloudy finally relinquished the wheel, she joined Neptarik and whispered something to him. The scout grinned and his earpoints rose fractionally.

Tahena prodded Balnus and nodded to the two sylphs as they headed for the bow.

"It's no good, you must marry him off."

The soldier looked across to the sylphs and laughed. "They're going dolphin watching," he said. "I think Cloudy's safe from Neptarik; she's an infertile."

"She intrigues him; he hardly shut up about her last night. And it's strange for sylphs to natter about anything."

Balnus shrugged. "He'll be all right."

"It's not him I'm worried about." Tahena shook her head. "Well I'm going to join them," she announced. "I have a few questions for the ship's sylph."

If Neptarik thought he and Cloudy were being disturbed as Tahena scrambled over the bulwark to join them, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he gave her a warm smile. The ship's sylph, on the other hand, looked far from happy. She hugged her knees closer and stared down the sea, avoiding Tahena's eyes. Her earpoints wilted.

"Oh!" exclaimed Tahena, disappointment in her voice. "No dolphins today."

"She says they're not here every day," replied Neptarik.

"What's wrong, Cloudy?" asked Tahena.

The infertile sylph glanced up. "You have the Father's Gift."

"That's right." Surprised, Tahena nodded. "How do you know?"

"The ship can sense the Father in you," replied Cloudy, her voice small. She looked as if she might be arguing with herself.

"I see. Do you know anything of a ship's sylph without a ship?"

"A ship's sylph without a ship is just a sylph," suggested Neptarik.

Cloudy shook her head and her earpoints slanted forward. "It means a ship's sylph without this part of the ship." She slapped the planking. "But still with this part." She touched her heart. "A ship waiting for a new physical ship." Her earpoints wilted again.

Neptarik stared from the other sylph to Tahena and back again.

"A friend told me to seek a ship's sylph without a ship when we reach Hejiller."

Cloudy shrugged. "There are several about."

"Why are you so dismayed to see me, Cloudy? I mean you no harm."

"Because the ship just tried to reach the Father through you again. Which means she thinks her change is close. She will become what she wants, recognized by the Father." Her earpoints tucked away completely and, pouting, she rose to her feet and scrambled back over the bulwark.

Tahena and Neptarik stared at each other.

***

"Are you still angry?"

Cloudy managed a small smile. "Not with you," she replied.

"At Tahena?"

"Nor her. Is she very upset? I must apologize."

"So you are better now?" Neptarik wasn't sure how to handle this. After all, there were two of them, even if he could see only one.

Cloudy shook her head and returned to her study of the sea. At least she was being more characteristically sylphic for the moment. Silent. The scout leaned beside her on the bulwark and stared at the waves and the ship's wake.

Tefric kept a careful eye on the two sylphs from his place behind the helmsman. He knew Cloudy well enough to see when something troubled her.

Content with silence, Neptarik turned inboard, leaned his back against the bulwark and stared up at the sails. He knew that the crew lived in the space between the rowing platform and the main deck. He followed the line of reefing points of the massive main sail. They began two-thirds of the way up the leech of the sail and met the yard at the bottom. Like almost everything else on the ship, they were a mystery.

"When you die, what do you believe happens?"

Neptarik started. "When I die?"

The ship's sylph nodded.

"Wait for my owner to die and continue serving him."

"If he dies before you?"

Neptarik was surprised again. "Sylphs have shorter lives than humans, so I should be first to go," he said, for once off balance. "But I hope he would wait for me."

Cloudy nodded. "So who do I wait for, Neptarik- _ya_?" she asked. "The ship? She has lived in many sylphs over the years and cared for several hulls. Do I wait for Tefric? He is kind and his family welcoming when I stay with them, but I belong to the ship. The _ship_." She sounded fierce.

Hardly the conversation Neptarik expected.

Cloudy seemed to sense the other sylph's hesitation. "If the ship did not like you, we would not be discussing this at all."

Neptarik gestured. "I do not know what the ship is. She said you would tell me, but I am still waiting."

The smaller sylph blinked. "Too soon."

"When you are ready. No matter what, I am sure you will be looked after."

"The ship says that." Cloudy took a calming breath, followed by a second. "Sorry. It is a shock when you suddenly feel a part of you try to wriggle away. The ship tried to go to her with the Father's Gift. Thought she could touch the Father. Last night and again earlier."

"What do you mean?" Neptarik shrugged. "If you explained about the ship, of course..."

Cloudy forced a smile. "I must apologize to Tahena," she said and turned away.

Now was clearly not a good time to press his questions about the ship.

***

As Cloudy had said, the wind strengthened when they found the trade wind. The ship picked up speed and Tefric rigged extra sails to make the most of it, setting them between the yards of the lateen sails in an inverted "V" shape. The passengers stared in admiration at the man who shinned his way to the end of the mainyard, more than a hundred pacas above the deck. Rope around his middle acted as a safety line, but that offered little protection at the yard's end. From there, he threw a line that marked the start of rigging the extra sails.

Cloudy joined Neptarik, her feet silent on the deck. "We should fly now," she murmured.

The scout smiled.

"You wanted to know what the ship is," continued the smaller sylph.

"Yes," replied Neptarik.

"All right, but you must promise to listen. If you laugh, or even look like you will laugh, I will say no more."

"Sounds fair."

Cloudy took a breath. "You have heard of the sephiroths?"

Neptarik stared. "Not much," he replied. "I have heard the word."

"There are two: the Benefic and Malefic Sephiroths, perfectly balanced and equal. All life is divided between them, usually within itself. Humans and us sylphs can choose which sephiroth to serve, but many animals have less choice. Some already have the balance tipped one way or the other." She looked for any hint of mockery on Neptarik's face.

He just stared. Perhaps Tahena had not been ranting after all when she suggested there were many gods.

Cloudy took another calming breath. "Then there are life elementals."

"What?"

The ship's sylph smiled. "This world belongs to the Father and it attracts life elementals. Unattached life elementals."

"What are they?" Neptarik stared. He hoped all this information came from the ship.

"Life forces. Like the ones that make you and me what we are. It is what you felt when I let the ship into you. You felt the life elementals in everyone else when you sensed the crew through the ship."

"You mean the soul – the bit that makes us different from rocks and puddles?"

"Something like that, but even rocks have life forces. Everything does. Land, sea, plants, animals, rocks... Even the world itself has a life elemental. Some are more aware than others. A life elemental in a rock is a pitiful thing compared to the one inside us. Or the one that is the ship."

Neptarik inclined his head.

"When humans and sylphs came to the Father's world, they attracted the interest of life elementals." Cloudy no longer looked at the other sylph; her eyes were unfocused, as if she was elsewhere. "When one of the Ten wanted to explore this world, he made a compact with a ship's life elemental. That she would live within a sylph and help protect her ship from dangers such as reefs and rocks and storms."

"How can the life elemental do that?"

The ship's sylph smiled, though her eyes still appeared vacant. "You are not paying attention. A life elemental can sense many things, including _other_ life elementals, like those inhabiting rocks and reefs. They can sense each other's presence. The crew can communicate with the ship through the ship's sylph, as _Flying Cloud_ communicates with them through me."

"So when the Captain and Sailing Master listen to you, it is the ship who makes the suggestions?"

"Yes."

"Wait. You said 'she'. Are all life elementals shes?"

"I do not think 'he' and 'she' are the proper words for elementals. The one inside you is probably male." Cloudy smiled. "On this ilvenworld, all the unattached ones are female. That is because all ilven on this world are female."

"So?"

"Those attracted freely to this world come for one reason." The smaller sylph's smile broadened. "They hope the Father will turn them into ilven." Her expression grew solemn again. "And when that happens, she will have no further need for her sylph. That is why I worry about who looks after me... next."

Neptarik stared. And he understood.

***
**Chapter 14**

Beshar

_Flying Cloud_ 's passengers quickly established a routine. Kelanus and Tahena were determined to learn all they could of their strange new environment. Balnus and his sylph joined in the various card schools they found in the messdecks. With his "lucky" scarf wound around his head, Neptarik learned sailors were surprisingly tough gambling meat; he did not win quite as often as he would have liked. Even so, he still won more than he lost.

Discovering Cloudy spending time with Neptarik when gambling, the Sailing Master displayed displeasure. He still found it necessary to take the ship's sylph away from the messdecks more than once. Tefric claimed watching was one step away from playing. While Balnus seemed quite happy to spend his day – not to mention his silver – gambling, Neptarik spent as much time with Cloudy as possible.

Early one morning, just before the sun showed above the horizon, the ship's sylph dug him out of his cot.

"Come quickly!" she urged.

Pausing only to pull on woolen breeches, Neptarik scrambled up the ladder. He came onto the upper deck just in time to stare as the sunrise bathed the sea red. But the ship's sylph had not disturbed him for a sunrise. He followed Cloudy's pointing finger and stared as a huge tail fin smacked down on the surface of the sea.

"What is that?" he breathed.

Cloudy's eyes danced and sparkled as she looked at him. "Whale," she replied. "We will see more in a moment."

Neptarik went wide-eyed as two whales broke surface, keeping pace with the ship easily, expelling old air through their blowholes before diving again.

"Whales always come for a look. Curious about us."

"They are huge," breathed Neptarik.

Tefric joined the two sylphs. "Magnificent beasts," he muttered, inspecting his fingernails. "The largest to be found – on this world, at least." He laid a gnarled hand on Cloudy's shoulder and the sylph looked up, her eyes shining.

"I am glad to have seen them," continued Neptarik. "There is so much to see here. Dolphins, whales, stars, the waves, that green flashing stuff –"

"Phosphorescence," smiled the Sailing Master.

"Phosphorescence, yes. Even sunrises are amazing."

Tefric laughed. "Yes, they're impressive. Sunsets too, unless someone's too busy gambling."

Neptarik grinned. It seemed sailors were little different from soldiers when it came to leg pulling.

The Sailing Master turned back to the ship's sylph. "Siranvaday," he said.

Some of the light faded from Cloudy's eyes, but her earpoints barely twitched. "So it is," she said, voice flat.

"What is so bad about that?" asked Neptarik, as the Sailing Master returned to his duties.

"Nothing," muttered the ship's sylph. "Means washday."

The meaning of this enigmatic answer evaded the scout and he soon moved away to greet his owner as he came onto the upper deck. Balnus ruffled his sylph's hair affectionately.

"This is growing well," he remarked, holding the other's hair in his fist. "Almost as long as a domestic's. We must get it cut."

Neptarik, who didn't care how long or short he kept his hair, shrugged. "Sylphs in Hejiller wear theirs long."

Balnus smiled. "It'll get hotter as we go further south; all the more reason to get it cut."

After breakfast, Neptarik discovered why Cloudy seemed so apprehensive about Siranvaday. Today the crew washed themselves and changed their clothes. Captain Liffen informed them that custom decreed everyone washed themselves all over at least once a week. Tahena went below to the stern walkway to wash herself. Of the crew, only Cloudy appeared unhappy with the arrangement.

Care of the ship's sylph fell to Tefric, which meant he prepared her saltwater bath. When the Sailing Master called for her, Cloudy stood at the prow of the ship. Neptarik noted most of the crew thronged the upper deck, even those who should be asleep. As Tefric advanced, the ship's sylph moved.

"Melnea!" For the first time, the passengers heard the ship's sylph addressed by her proper name. But Tefric looked exasperated rather than angry.

Cloudy leapt onto the lower end of the foresail's yard and ran up the stops holding the sail in place, pausing where the yard met the mast. Tefric shouted for her to come down, but she ignored him, clearly waiting for a chase. The Sailing Master obliged and sent someone up to get her.

She waited until the crewman came within easy reach.

Nimble as a monkey, she ran to the very end of the yard and swung herself out, gripping the leech of the sail.

Tefric sighed. "She's going to fall one of these days, or end up over the side. When we'll have to waste an hour to pick her up."

"She does this all the time?" A freshly washed Tahena rejoined them.

"Every week. It's a standing joke with her."

The crew enjoyed the chase and their sympathies lay with the sylph. Cloudy slid down the sail's leech, landed on the deck with a soft thud, dodged Tefric's outstretched arms and set her gaze firmly on the mainmast. Again, she ran aloft, shinned out to the very end of the yard high above and refused to move.

Tefric shook his head. "A pity Siranva did not give sylphs a fear of falling," he remarked. "I can't be bothered chasing her up there."

"You could always lower the sail," suggested Kelanus.

"And lose way," retorted Tefric. He glanced aloft. "Not to mention having to take that staysail down first. She'll be down soon – boredom or nature will force her if I cannot."

Boredom – setting in ten minutes later – brought the sylph into the waiting clutches of the Sailing Master. In moments, her shirt and breeches lay discarded on the deck. Neptarik openly and shamelessly stared. Arms, lower legs and head were tanned deep blue, but the rest of her had considerably less color, upper legs and thighs paler still than her torso.

Caught, she submitted to her bath and washed herself under Tefric's stony gaze. She exuded an air of sulkiness, though her earpoints gave lie to it. Not as bath resistant as she liked others to think.

Neptarik jumped when Tahena poked him. "Stop staring. It's rude." She turned to Balnus. "You really must give serious consideration to marrying him off."

Balnus laughed.

"I'm serious. When a sylph starts leering at every female, even infertiles, it's time for him to be married."

Neptarik blushed and looked away.

Balnus looked at his scout.

"Have you met Caya?" Tahena turned to the still flushed sylph.

Neptarik nodded.

"She needs to be married. If your master agrees, I will arrange an introduction." Tahena's dark eyes sparkled.

Balnus grunted. "Let's get all this out of the way first," he said.

Tahena nodded and smiled to herself. Sandev would be pleased.

***

Every stay thrummed as _Morning Dawn_ leaned away from the stiffening breeze and picked up speed. The ship's sylph turned her nose into the wind and sniffed. Her eyes were closed and her earpoints twitched with barely suppressed eagerness. Canvas snapped as men sheeted it in and spray flew as the ship cut into the waves.

"Fast!" she exclaimed, making her voice sibilant to hiss the word.

Sallis ti Ath smiled at the sylph's excitement and shared some of it himself. He had little to do until they caught the _Flying Cloud_ and he appreciated the crew of this ship did all they could. Captain Grath hoped to catch _Flying Cloud_ before she left Beshar and still believed ti Ath wanted to join friends. Sallis had never said any such thing, but let the Captain and sylph believe what they wanted. Even so, he sensed the ship suspected his real reasons. If so, her sylph had not told anyone else.

Ti Ath was used to ship sylphs as he had met several during his travels, the first when he left his island home. Few humans understood something more than superstitious nonsense concerned ships and their sylphs, but ti Ath had seen too much. He knew of the pact between the Ten and the life elementals swarming around the ilvenworld.

"How long, Captain?" he asked. "Before we reach Beshar?"

"Two, maybe three days," replied Grath.

"Two and a bit," promised the ship's sylph, silvery gray eyes solemn and sincere. "The ship says two and a bit."

Satisfied, ti Ath nodded. It would have to do.

***

"What is that I can smell?"

Neptarik sniffed at the air again, aware of something different. He didn't know what, hence his question.

"I can't smell anything," muttered Balnus, for once not gambling.

Cloudy laughed. "Land," she replied. "Always smell its stink milas out at sea. We should reach Beshar tomorrow. Last night, a bird slept aboard, but she has flown away again."

"Birds? Out here?" Balnus looked skeptical.

The ship's sylph shrugged. "Happens often. Bird flies too high, gets caught in wind and is carried away from land. Most fall into the sea and drown. Others are lucky and find a ship."

Tahena glanced astern, as she had every day since sailing. As every day before, the horizon looked empty. She hoped Sallis ti Ath had fallen far behind.

A sudden flurry of activity as men swarmed aloft and along the yards to bring in both staysails. After that, they briefly lowered the yard to furl the mainsail, then hoisted it again to keep the deck clear. The _Flying Cloud_ continued to make way on her fore and mizzen sails, gradually losing speed. The four passengers watched for a short time.

"Won't this slow us down?" asked Kelanus, still concerned about speed.

Cloudy gave a disparaging sniff. "We don't want to get close inshore too quickly," she explained. "The coast around here has many rocks and sudden pinnacles. At night, only the ship would be aware and then it might be too late. The more eyes the better. Trouble for ships is always found close to land." The sylph smiled. "We will be in Beshar tomorrow; we are on time."

"Why did you hoist the yard again?" asked Neptarik, taking care to use the correct terms.

"It cannot interfere with the oarsmen from there, if they are needed," explained Cloudy. "It will be lowered again as usual when we get alongside."

Obviously unhappy that the ship had slowed, Kelanus turned to Tahena. "What if ti Ath catches us here, waiting for daylight to go inshore?" he whispered.

The southern woman smiled. "Whichever ship is bringing him will act in exactly the same way as _Flying Cloud_ ," she replied. "We're safe."

"How long will we be in Beshar?" Kelanus asked the sylph.

Her earpoints twitched. "Enough time to offload the brandy, take on the rum, get fresh victuals and water... Two days, if we're lucky."

"That long?" Kelanus was incredulous.

The sylph laughed. "Not everywhere is as efficient as Cadister. And Cadister is our homeport; other ships get priority in Beshar. We might even have to wait for a berth."

"Wait for a berth?" He seemed even less happy.

The sylph twitched her earpoints. "Happens all the time. There are not enough ports for the trade that moves these days. Ships sometimes have to wait."

Kelanus and Tahena exchanged a look. The idea that Sallis ti Ath might actually catch up with them seemed more likely now.

Cloudy looked anxiously into their faces. "Something is wrong?"

Tahena pulled herself together and managed a smile for the sylph. "We're sure you know best," she said. Even as she spoke, she doubted if Cloudy or the ship had missed the verbal sidestep.

***

Approaching Beshar the next morning, the passengers were thankful for the ship's caution. They scrambled onto the upper deck the moment land was sighted and watched eagerly as the smudge on the horizon rapidly grew into cliffs and islands and rocky pinnacles. Neptarik shivered as he looked at razor-like rocks lurking just below the surface, many with swell breaking over them, white patches betraying their presence. The ship's sylph stood beside the Sailing Master; every now and again she murmured a course alteration.

Kelanus looked around. "The ship's forgiven for waiting," he muttered. "Nobody could get through this at night."

Unconvinced, Neptarik watched the ship's sylph carefully. The ship gave all the course alterations, so she must know this water intimately. Perhaps without eyes to help her, she could not pinpoint their exact position. The ship might need Cloudy more than anybody realized. He had a feeling the ship wanted that knowledge kept secret.

"Hasn't anyone worked out a safe passage to Beshar?" Kelanus asked Tefric, when the Sailing Master strayed towards them. "Seems foolish to have a port surrounded by all these dangers."

Tefric smiled. "Yes, but it lies south. An extra day's sailing. We're taking a shortcut."

"I hope the shortcut doesn't drown us."

"Last night you were the one in a hurry." Tefric's smile broadened. "The ship knows the way." He moved away again to give another course alteration.

As _Flying Cloud_ passed a forbidding cliff, the land opened up to reveal a sheltered bay, with Beshar at its head. The city backed uphill and its buildings gleamed in the sunlight. A forest of masts marked the city's harbor area. As the ship entered a channel, Cloudy joined her passengers for a few moments.

"I'll be needed at the wheel soon," she said. She glanced around the bay. "One good sign: there are no ships anchored off. Might even be a berth for us."

"What's that?" asked Neptarik. He pointed to a small boat under oars, headed toward them.

"The pilot boat, coming to guide us in. As if we need them." She grinned, caught Tefric's eye and a moment later took her place at the wheel beside the Master's Mate. Each of the officers took his respective station as the ship prepared to come alongside.

Tefric briefly took way off the ship to allow the pilot boat to hook on. The mizzen sail was backed against the wind, which countered the force of the foresail. Moments later, a man in a blue uniform with two gold stripes on each cuff came aboard and the pilot boat stood off. The sails were trimmed again and _Flying Cloud_ moved forwards slowly with only two sails.

The pilot nodded to the Captain and the Sailing Master. "Good to see you again," he smiled. "Happy New Year. And how is my favorite ship's sylph?"

Cloudy turned and gave the pilot her lopsided smile, but her concentration immediately returned to her steering.

Neptarik stared, finding it difficult to follow everything going on. The other sails were furled and oarsmen readied their oars. Before the ship stopped moving, the oars were out and the ship was now propelled by brute force instead of the wind. He marveled at the skill of the crew as they brought the ship alongside with barely a touch.

The bustle continued, securing the ship with what the watching scout felt were more than enough ropes. Once secured, the crew still hadn't finished, tidying up and preparing the mainyard for use as a temporary crane.

They had a small problem with the gangway, but once they had got it in place, a well-dressed man hurried aboard, immediately crossing to speak with Liffen and Cloudy.

"He's the agent for the man who buys our brandy," Sedaro explained.

Neptarik glanced at his owner and his earpoints twitched.

"He wants to explore," Balnus told Kelanus. "Still a land sylph."

"We must wait until the Captain grants permission," said Kelanus.

Neptarik stayed well out of the way, but his attention fixed on Beshar. The quayside looked as busy as that in Cadister and the scout watched the workers as they swarmed about their business. They avoided all the goods and coils of rope and lines securing ships that crowded every corner. There were children too – human and sylph, ragged and barefoot – staring hungrily at the ships and mobbing any sailor who put a foot ashore.

His gaze swung away from the quay to the gray and white buildings that crammed against each other in an untidy jumble. Obviously a very old city, Neptarik could hardly wait to wander its streets, especially if the ship stayed here for a couple of days. Neptarik had no worries about Sallis ti Ath, since the man was no threat to him, though he understood Kelanus's eagerness to be away again. He smiled as Cloudy joined him.

"It will be this afternoon before the brandy is discharged," she said, glumly. "Tomorrow morning before the rum gets here, let alone loaded."

"And you must wait for daylight before sailing." Neptarik sniffed.

Cloudy shook her head. "With any luck we can sail on the late tide. We are heading south."

"So?"

The sylph smiled. "We will follow the channel. A landsman can follow it, even at night. Lanterns with light crystals show the way when it is dark."

"So we will sail tomorrow night?"

Cloudy shrugged. "Things always take longer than planned in this city. Just the way they work. I would not be surprised if the brandy stays on board until tomorrow."

The ship sylph's words proved prophetic; they soon learned no gang of stevedores would be available before the morning, so Captain Liffen granted shore leave. Cloudy shook her head when Neptarik suggested she might come ashore with him.

"Go with your owner," she said. "My place is with the ship."

The scout didn't argue. Tefric, who had overheard the conversation, put his hand on Neptarik's shoulder as the other sylph crossed the deck to inspect something.

"Don't take it to heart, lad," said the Sailing Master. "If the ship had her way, there'd be no stopping at all, just sailing. Anyway, she's seen Beshar before."

***

After waiting for Kelanus, all four passengers crossed the gangway and set foot on dry land for the first time in almost a week.

Neptarik's eyes widened. "This land moves!"

His companions laughed at him, but all staggered slightly as they walked, thanks to being used to the ship's motion. While they regained the use of their land legs, they had to deal with street children mobbing them. Growled expletives from Balnus, threats from Kelanus and a few words from Tahena saw them left alone, if a few of the older female sylphs still stared longingly at Neptarik.

"What is it with you?" Tahena demanded of the scout. "You're a magnet for female sylphs. Have you got a sign out or something?"

Neptarik stared at Tahena in surprise, but said nothing.

Tahena turned to Balnus. "They all seem to know he's available," she said, accusingly. "It must be some sort of instinct. You must –"

Balnus scowled. "Give the lad a rest."

"It's not all his fault," retorted Tahena. "You neglect his welfare by keeping him single."

Neptarik ignored the banter between the two humans and walked more quickly towards the first street he saw. Determined to enjoy himself, he wanted to spend some of the coin presently smoldering in his pocket.

Far above, Cloudy and Tefric leaned against the bulwark side by side, and watched their passengers. There wasn't much call for either of them with the ship alongside and neither liked to spend much time ashore.

Cloudy had friends among the other ship sylphs, but she must wait until the day's work had finished before visiting. Few ship masters appreciated guests during the working day. Tefric spent even less time ashore; he usually only left the ship if ropes or sails were required.

Of course, the Sailing Master went ashore in Cadister, where his family lived. Cloudy had happy memories of time spent with Tefric's family, while the ship spent her winter refitting. The sylph also enjoyed the festivals in Hejiller. Other than that, land held little interest for either of them.

Both were content to lean on the bulwark and watch the busy port.

"Our passengers are obsessed with speed," said Tefric. He watched the guests as they disappeared from view along the quayside.

"The ship thinks they have not told us everything."

"People never do," replied Tefric.

"When I proved to Neptarik the ship really existed, he seemed scared to let her in. As if she might find out something he wanted kept quiet."

"Everybody has secrets they'd rather nobody else knew. Even sylphs."

"The ship thinks they run away from something."

Tefric shrugged. "It doesn't matter to us. They mean us no harm and they have one among them with the Father's Gift, so they can't be evil people."

Cloudy shrugged. "A pity Neptarik belongs to Balnus."

Tefric laughed. "Fallen in love, Melnea?" He used the ship sylph's real name affectionately.

"The ship is curious about him," she replied, carefully avoiding the question. The ship held the Sailing Master in high regard, so he deserved better than her lies.

Tefric nodded. "If I may say so, the ship is curious about many things."

She turned to face the human. "She thinks the time for her change is close."

Tefric's face grew more solemn. "Oh." His arm went around the sylph's shoulders and he hugged her. "I trust it's not too close, though I wish her well."

The sylph sniffed. "Close to her might be several of our lifetimes," she said. "She does not have a very well developed sense of time."

Tefric nodded, but his mind was troubled.

***

"What did you say?"

Kelanus stared at the innkeeper, as he chatted with one of his serving girls.

Neptarik lifted his head from his tankard and licked a mustache of white froth from his upper lip.

"Sir?" The innkeeper turned to Kelanus.

"Something about Marka and an Emperor?"

The innkeeper folded his hands before him and rested them on the apron that strained over his bulk. "Sir hasn't heard? You must be the only one in Beshar. There is a new Emperor of Marka. The air is full of pigeon feathers. It's been all over the city for two or three days."

"Pigeon feathers?" queried Neptarik. Kelanus and Balnus ignored him. They were without Tahena, who had gone to see a former student of Sandev's.

The innkeeper gave Neptarik a quizzical look; he had been surprised when he saw the sylph drinking and sitting on the furniture. That the sylph now spoke to them like an equal was clearly too much of a culture shock.

"Do you know who this Emperor is?" pressed Kelanus. He hoped the messenger birds had carried that information too.

"It's the damnedest thing," smiled the innkeeper. "All the rumors say the same."

"Marcus? Verdin?"

The innkeeper wrung his hands. "His name is Zenepha," he replied. He stared at Neptarik. "And they say that he's a sylph."

Neptarik blinked and exchanged a surprised glance with his owner.

Kelanus shook his head. "Zenepha the sylph, Emperor?" He turned his attention to his companions. "Drink up, we're leaving."

Balnus swallowed the rest of his ale in one go, Neptarik a little slower, if no less eager to finish.

"Come on, Neptarik."

Outside, Kelanus shook his head. "The Senate must have gone against Marcus."

"And the other claimants," added Neptarik. "Zenepha. He belongs to the Supreme Councilor."

"Belonged," said Kelanus. "A slave can't be Emperor. He must have been manumitted."

Neptarik stared at his owner in consternation. "Poor sylph!" he exclaimed. Few sylphs born into slavery sought freedom. If any.

Uninterested in the strangeness of the sylph race, the news had clearly shaken Kelanus. "I wonder what has happened with Marcus Vintner."

"Or to," added Balnus, quietly. "We must speak with Tahena. She knows how Marka works better than us."

Neptarik shivered. Now his initial shock had passed, he smiled as he thought of a sylph Emperor and wondered how humans would take to a sylph bossing them about. He must have muttered something aloud, as Kelanus responded.

"He's probably a puppet," said the General. "Dancing to the Supreme Council's fiddle."

Neptarik, uneducated and wary of human politics, shrugged. He even changed the subject. "Our next port is in the Imperial Republic," he pointed out. "Will it be dangerous for us?"

"No reason why it should be," smiled Balnus. "So long as you remember they are strict with cheeky sylphs there."

Neptarik wrinkled his nose and his earpoints twitched backwards. "Sounds a bad place."

"Probably nowhere near as bad as the stories say," interrupted Kelanus. "All sorts of stories come out of these places, and most are made up, or distortions of the truth. Or exaggerations. If they were all that bad, their sylphs would run away."

"Even so," continued Balnus, "we can't let it be known who we serve."

"Who _do_ we serve?" Neptarik glanced at his two companions. "We are officially deserters from the army and Kelanus- _ya_ is a suspected murderer."

"Until we learn different, we serve Marcus Vintner." Kelanus sounded a little sharper than intended, but he would not apologize for that. "And we continue as before. Understood?"

Neptarik nodded. " _Se bata_."

***

"Interesting."

Tahena smiled over her teacup at Farana.

"It's true," protested the other woman. "Two pigeons came. A sylph named Zenepha has been crowned in Marka."

The southern woman almost laughed. "I don't disbelieve you. But it is interesting, you must admit."

"The Beshar Council must decide whether they wish to support him or not," continued Farana, barely able to keep excitement from her voice. There could be little doubt of her opinion on the matter.

Tahena waved a dismissive hand. "Being an outlander, northern politics is none of my business."

Farana's blue eyes sparked. A couple of years younger than Tahena, the two had shared several lessons, particularly concerning healing. Farana's healing ability far outstripped Tahena's and she made a comfortable living healing the sick. Tahena had never felt easy making money from the Gift. It seemed almost sacrilegious.

"Even so, it is exciting to again have an Emperor," continued Farana. "The Empire may yet reunite in peace."

"And rats might fly," grunted Tahena, sourly. "Both Supreme Council and Senate are split into factions who hate each other. The saving grace of this sylph is that nobody yet knows how to deal with him."

"I'm sure he'll do very well."

"He's only a sylph. I doubt if he'll survive long; politics is a dangerous game. Unless he has _very_ good advisors."

"He will have. Somebody found a way to cut through all the arguments."

"Arguments that will continue. Hingast is a very real threat, no matter what the two Vintner factions might hope. Branad Vintner's death almost brought disaster to everything. Sandev is not impressed."

Farana giggled. "I'm sure she isn't. Do people suspect she's the one pulling the strings?"

"People suspect so even when she isn't," retorted Tahena. She sipped again at her tea, draining her cup. She carefully replaced the empty cup on the side table. Her dark gaze returned to Farana's face and those delicate pale blue eyes. "She long since learned it is impossible for those with the Gift to rule people, only try to guide them from foolishness. It was ever thus. And if one as Gifted as Sandev finds people troublesome, how in the Father's name will a _sylph_ cope?"

Farana nodded. "Shall we change the subject? It is so good to see you again that I don't want to spoil our first meeting in years by discussing politics."

Tahena smiled. "What a sensible suggestion."

***

Stevedores began to unload _Flying Cloud_ 's cargo the next morning, but hours passed before the rum arrived on the dockside. Tahena kept throwing nervous glances seawards. Somewhere out there, Sallis ti Ath drew closer.

She and her companions had discussed Zenepha's elevation. Though he assured Kelanus and Balnus of his loyalty to Marcus Vintner, Neptarik could not hide his pleasure that a sylph now ruled in Marka.

"Sylphs are the masters now," he gloated.

Kelanus and Tahena spent half the night leaning against the bulwark, staring across Beshar and talking about nothing but events in Marka.

"I think going ashore is unwise today," said Kelanus, after hearing Neptarik asking permission from his owner. "Tahena feels it is dangerous."

"No more dangerous than yesterday," suggested Balnus.

Tahena shook her head. "We stay aboard. Just a feeling."

Neptarik stared at Tahena sympathetically. He knew when best to heed such feelings. But what could possibly be wrong today that was not wrong yesterday? At least Cloudy looked pleased that her sylph passenger would remain aboard.

"Have you got nothing to do?" Neptarik grumpily demanded of the ship's sylph as she smiled brightly at him.

"At sea I am busy. In port, time is my own."

"Going ashore doesn't interest you?"

"I've seen most of these ports before," she replied. "The ship follows more or less the same course year after year. And when you've seen one port, you've seen them all really. Beggars, dirt, noise, stink, bad ale and prostitutes." She grinned. "I like Hejiller though; you will too."

"You sound bored." Neptarik wondered if Cloudy enjoyed a little fun at his expense.

Another quick grin, then seriousness again. "I am never bored." She glanced across at Mate Sedaro, who supervised the rum as it came aboard. "A couple more hours and we only need wait for the tide."

Neptarik nodded.

"Kelanus- _ya_ and Tahena- _ya_ seem nervous today. The ship has the impression that they are running away from something."

Neptarik grimaced. No lies had been told, but Kelanus had said from the beginning that prudence suggested they tell no more than necessary. After all, the Captain and crew might not be quite as understanding if they believed they carried criminals.

He dared not guess what Cloudy or the ship might think if they discovered the whole truth. Would it change anything? All they knew was that the passengers worked for Marcus Vintner, one of the claimants to the Markan Throne. That someone other than Marcus now occupied the Throne didn't change their mission.

Tahena's presence, even if disturbing for the ship's sylph, seemed to reassure the ship.

Neptarik had not tried the hand-on-forehead trick with Cloudy since that first evening and felt no rush to repeat it. How much did the ship really know or suspect? He felt cold as he recalled a snippet of conversation from the first night.

"You may find it easier to show her things, perhaps from when you were younger. It is better than having her rummage through. You never know what she might uncover. Secrets you prefer to keep that way perhaps?"

Had the ship discovered why he and his companions were aboard that night? If so, had the ship shared her information? He saw Cloudy expected a reply to her statement.

"They want to lose no time," he answered, eventually. "Tahena is going home for the first time in years."

Cloudy smiled, but suspicion lingered in her eyes. "I understand that," she said. The set of her shoulders suggested she had heard the evasion. The Sailing Master joined the two sylphs.

"We'll sail before dark," he promised.

Cloudy nodded and turned back to Neptarik. "We will follow the channel on our way out," she remarked. "It is lit."

"Yes." Tefric's attention also turned to Neptarik. "Learning more about ships and the sea from Cloudy?"

"I am, _donenya_." Pleased for the diversion from Cloudy's near interrogation, the male sylph nodded. "It amazes me how much knowledge is needed to become a sailor."

Cloudy turned and looked towards the sea, across the bay, where another ship, smaller than the _Flying Cloud_ , was just taking aboard a pilot. The infertile sylph stood more upright and a smile split her face.

She pointed. " _Morning Dawn_. She's done well to get here so quickly, even if she left on the tide after us."

Tefric looked over his shoulder. "Yes," he replied, smiling at the ship sylph's enthusiasm. "Very well."

Kelanus and Tahena held a whispered conversation before they joined Cloudy.

"Is that ship from Cadister?" rumbled Kelanus.

The ship's sylph nodded emphatically. "Along the quay from us," she replied. "She had to wait for some delayed cargo. We were going to leave Cadister together and race down. To see how much quicker we might get here before her." She smiled. "She is coming in on the tide I am waiting to slacken, before we leave."

Tahena looked even more worried.

"Something is wrong, Tahena- _ya_?" Cloudy's smile faded.

The southern woman grimaced, but said nothing.

Balnus joined Neptarik. "Tahena is convinced that Sallis ti Ath is aboard that ship," he murmured, voice pitched so only his sylph could hear. "As she'll be here before we sail, there may be trouble."

Neptarik detected something indefinable in his owner's voice and, concerned, looked into his eyes. " _Enya_?"

Balnus clapped a hand onto his sylph's shoulder, gripping it. "All will be well, lad, don't worry."

The scout stiffened. Whenever told not to worry, he always heard a hint that something foolish or dangerous was about to happen. His attention turned to the other ship from Cadister and back again. Then he noticed Kelanus and Balnus wore their swords. His earpoints wilted.

The passengers watched _Morning Dawn_ pick her way into harbor, aided by the last of the flooding tide. There was a flurry of activity along _Flying Cloud_ 's decks as the last of the cargo was stowed away and the foreman of the stevedores paid off. Tahena nudged Kelanus.

"There." She nodded towards the other ship without pointing.

Kelanus stared at the tall, slim figure standing perfectly still aboard _Morning Dawn_. Nobody could doubt this was the man who had very nearly made it aboard _Flying Cloud_ in Cadister. His presence here, having taken another ship from Marka, proved his determination to capture the man he regarded as a renegade. Kelanus crossed the deck to Captain Liffen.

"I trust we will sail before the other ship gets here?" He asked as if the answer was unimportant.

Liffen looked up and a small frown creased his brow. "We'll wait for the tide to turn and sail at slack water."

Cloudy moved closer, but said nothing. Her silvery gray eyes were thoughtful as she listened to the conversation.

"I'd be grateful if you sail as soon as possible," returned Kelanus, his pale blue eyes hard.

Cloudy spoke. "Why are you so keen to sail before my friend comes alongside? I had thought of visiting her."

For a long moment, Kelanus stared at the ship's sylph. "I'll explain everything when we're at sea," he promised. "Just please get us to sea."

Liffen stared at his ship's sylph. She paused, then nodded. Kelanus sighed in relief as orders were passed to the crew and they increased their preparations for sea.

Balnus tightened his grip on Neptarik's shoulder for a few moments before dropping his hand. "Behave yourself lad, behave yourself."

Concern mingled with fear on Neptarik's face as he looked at his owner. He fought his fear and the sylph's usual mask quickly fell back in place. "What are you going to do?"

His question went unanswered.

"Come on," muttered Kelanus, under his breath. "Come on, come _on..._ "

Enjoying a more favorable wind than when _Flying Cloud_ had arrived, _Morning Dawn_ managed to keep sail on, but those sails shivered as she came head to wind before she hit the quay. The yards were not lowered as the sails were bunted up to them. Sailors scampered to ready oars. A blue figure on the smaller ship waved in large sweeping gesticulations, and Cloudy waved back.

Kelanus gripped the rail, gritting his teeth. "Come _on_ , Captain!"

"We're going as quickly as we can." Liffen gave the other a strange look. "And if you'd not already paid for the full passage..." He looked as if he might like to return their fares and be rid of them.

Those of the crew who had gone ashore to single up the lines returned, there now being only two ropes securing _Flying Cloud_ to the quay. Those were turned once around the bollards and run back to the ship, so they only needed to be let go from the ship and pulled aboard. The stevedores pulled away the landing platform the crew used to reach the jetty.

Even as _Morning Dawn_ came alongside, Sallis ti Ath leapt off the ship and strode along the quay. He moved at a measured but determined pace. As headrope and sternrope were let go together, freeing _Flying Cloud_ from the land, the pursuer broke into a run, turning almost into a blur.

"Ranva's balls, Captain, get us out of here," roared Kelanus.

Balnus scrambled onto the bulwark and drew his sword...

" _Enya_ no!" cried Neptarik.

...and launched himself off the ship onto the landing platform, rushing down it to meet Sallis ti Ath.

" _Enya_!"

Kelanus gripped the sylph's arm, to stop the scout from throwing himself after his owner, there being too much water between ship and quayside for a safe leap.

The General glanced at the quay before turning away, holding the sylph's head against his chest so he could not see Balnus fight and grapple with ti Ath. Sallis moved in a blur and Balnus could barely hold his own. This fight obviously had only one possible outcome. Not wanting to watch a brave man die, Kelanus dragged his gaze away.

"Take us to sea, Captain," he hissed.

***

"And that is that," completed Kelanus and looked around at everyone. They were now at sea. Fourth Mate Naltor and the Master's Mate Grenard had been left on watch, but the rest of the ship's officers were present. As was Cloudy.

"Murder of a claimant to the Markan Throne?" Liffen shook his head. "We do not know Sallis ti Ath, but we have heard of him. We know he won't give up." He gestured at Cloudy. "Your decision."

Tahena sat beside Neptarik and patted his arm. The sylph put as brave a face as he could on the loss of his owner. But his eyes were vacant, his earpoints wilted and he sat listlessly on the deck. He ignored Tahena's comforting hand on his arm.

He looked up and his earpoints twitched as the other sylph spoke to him.

"What have you got to say?" Cloudy spoke gently.

"Kelanus- _ya_ is a good man." The scout spoke forcefully. "Belaika saw what he saw and he knew that he did not see Kelanus. Anyone who really knows him knows he is innocent."

"This does not explain why you are running as far south as you can," said Liffen.

"We suspect who is responsible for the murder," replied Kelanus. "We're not running; we travel to his home to learn what we can of him. He is a secretive man, but there must be many who remember him." He reached into his tunic and pushed a small portrait of General Ranallic across the table. "He can't have changed that much."

"Do you know how long he has been away from home?" asked Cloudy. A blue forefinger touched the portrait, but she didn't even glance at it. "He is not known to us."

Tahena realized Cloudy referred to herself and the ship, not the rest of the officers. Still strange to hear her speak for two entities.

"He joined Branad's army almost ten years ago," replied Kelanus. "As you now know, he forced me out from there as well."

The ship's sylph returned the portrait. "From what has been said, we know that Sallis ti Ath is a good man. If ruthless." She looked around the cabin. "We have nothing to fear from him; only Kelanus has anything to fear from him. And Neptarik says Kelanus is a good man."

Everybody waited as Cloudy paused. "The ship is unconvinced."

A grimace turned Kelanus's face and even Neptarik looked up.

"There is one thing we can do," continued the ship's sylph. She held up a hand, palm facing Kelanus. "If you let the ship join with you."

Neptarik's earpoints came bolt upright. A faint smile creased Tahena's face and Kelanus appeared surprised.

"What sorcery is this?" he demanded. "I thought this only worked with sylphs."

"No sorcery." Liffen's voice was quiet. "It only works with sylphs when we want the ship to communicate with us. It's easy for her to see into you."

Tahena nodded. "Do it," she urged. "It will settle the argument and reassure our friends."

Kelanus looked from Cloudy to Tahena and back again. "All right."

Cloudy rested her palm on Kelanus's forehead. "Don't break the link," she warned. She frowned in concentration.

"What are you doing to me? What... Aah!"

Earpoints suddenly erect, Cloudy took her hand away. "The ship is happy to tell us that Kelanus speaks the truth." She looked surprised. "We will honor our arrangement."

"That hurt," complained Kelanus, rubbing his forehead. "A lot."

A smile fleeted across Cloudy's mouth and her earpoints twitched. "That is partly because you are not a sylph," she explained. "And partly punishment for concealing things from the ship. She does not like that."

"Then the bloody ship is too nosy by half," muttered Kelanus.

Liffen nodded and stood. "We carry on. This meeting is at an end."

"What if Cloudy had said no?" asked Tahena.

Liffen smiled. "We would have turned around and given you to Sallis ti Ath," he replied.

The three remaining passengers returned to their own cabin. "I'm going to lie down for a bit," announced Tahena. "I need to think."

Kelanus and Neptarik went onto the stern walkway, the only completely private part of the ship. Kelanus rested a hand on the sylph's shoulder.

"I trust you're not going to try anything stupid?"

Neptarik shook his head.

"Good. This is as private as you get."

The sylph nodded thanks, leaned back against the ship's planking and slid down until sat on the deck. He wrapped his arms around his knees and lowered his head. His shoulders shook as sobs wracked him. Staring in the direction of Beshar, he began to grieve for his master.

***
**Chapter 15**

Kytra

She drifted in and out of consciousness. Whorls of color flashed in time with the beating pulse sounding like a gong inside her head. Liquid pounded through her, powered on by an apparently endless pump. Air rattled in her throat as she tried to pull herself awake, aware of incompleteness, that she had lost... someone. A sound she failed to understand reached her from outside. Her senses felt dulled and, when she moved her head, it seemed hours passed before it stilled again. Something stopped her earpoints from moving.

And she hurt. Oh, how she hurt!

The sound came again and she realized she heard two voices. Neither addressed her. Understanding flooded her memory.

"Constable Eldstren, I want you to arrest the accursed man. The filthy, round-eyed northern scum! Look at her, Constable, look at her. There's no excuse for that at any age, but she's no more than a child."

"Madam," interrupted a deeper voice, presumably that of Constable Eldstren, "there is no law in Hejiller against outlanders even if they are round-eyed. And there is no law against chastising slaves, especially if they are sylphs."

"Chas –" The first voice broke off in anger before resuming. "This is hardly _chastisement_. There's a world of difference between maintaining discipline and beating someone around the head with a lump of metal. She has been assaulted, Constable, not chastised. And he is not her owner."

"She is a ship's sylph. And because the ship belongs to the outlander, so does she. Ship and sylph are his property."

"He nearly killed her!"

"But did not." Constable Eldstren sounded to be tiring of the conversation. "If she dies, let me know and then I can do something about it."

The effort to stir proved too great and she drifted back into comfortable unconsciousness. Something familiar to her, known to her, whispered unintelligibly into her mind. Really a some _one_ who lived inside her. As the memory surfaced, she drifted away again.

***

Her eyes flickered open and she struggled to sit up in the strangely familiar bed. Sunlight streamed through the window and warmed the small room. Reflections from a mug of water dappled one green wall and added brightness. Blue and white paint covered the ceiling, intended to represent sky and clouds, and green walls to give the impression she slept in a forest.

To her, an alien environment.

An open door led to the corridor beyond. Why was she here, instead of aboard her ship? The ship! She remembered that much. Frantically, she tried to reach that part of the ship that usually resided within her.

She called for the ship in her mind.

Nothing.

"I am Kytra," she murmured to herself. "I have eight cycles and belong to the ship _Velvet Moon_. Lenar Pylo Frist is my owner." She muttered it three times, to convince herself. Something still felt wrong, and she put hands to her head.

The free earpoint twitched with irritated curiosity. Who had wrapped this thing around her head? She glimpsed her reflection in the polished metal mirror, edges painted as if vines grew around it. She wondered what had happened to her and slowly unwound the bandage. She gasped.

Somebody had shaved part of her head. Behind one ear, a neat line of stitches followed an ugly blue gash in her head. Another line of stitching marked where the earpoint had been cut. This one did not follow its twin as normal, but drooped uselessly. She put her hand to it and pushed it upright. The earpoint sagged back.

Tears filled her eyes. She was damaged!

"No," she groaned.

Someone must have overheard, for moments later a short human woman bustled in, dark slanted eyes shining.

"Up at last are we? And you should _not_ have that dressing off." Seconds later, the woman secured the bandage again.

Kytra recognized the woman's voice. "Where am I? Where is my ship?"

"You are in the sylphs' orphanage hospital," said the woman. "Your ship sailed without you." A hint of outrage entered her tone. "Leaving you on the quay, lying in your blood. I'm Matron Ceren; you may call me Matron."

"Yes Matron." Left behind on the quay? She remembered nothing. She had not asked after the wooden ship, but she did not expect the woman to understand. "When can I leave?"

"When you're better."

"My ear..."

Ceren patted the sylph on her back and made a soothing noise. "It will never be quite as active as the left one, I'm afraid, but you should get some movement back."

Kytra's good earpoint wilted. "I must find my ship."

"You must rest." Matron Ceren smiled at the distressed sylph. "Sit down and make yourself comfortable; I gave you a room with a view over the bay."

She allowed herself to be led to a chair, which she felt certain sylphs should not be allowed to use, and Ceren tucked a blanket around her, ensuring she was comfortable.

The window allowed a superb view across the bay. Each with its own watchtower, the headlands looked as though they touched, but Kytra knew twenty fishing boats sailing abreast could pass through the channel. With no risk of grounding: those headlands were sheer. The channel had its own watchtower bang in the middle and Kytra often wondered how humans had managed to build it. This tower also controlled the boom, pulled across the channel for festivals, or if pirates threatened Hejiller.

Thankfully, pirates were very rare, if any still existed. The festivals rather more common. There were four a year in Hejiller, with free time for all during them. Even the Shograt attended, but as far as she knew, she had never seen him.

From here, she could see the docks. She had plenty of friends down there. _Running River_ 's sylph was a littersister, her ship still smelling fresh from the builders. _Mountain Grace_ boasted a particularly irritable sylph, who had a soft spot only for other sylphs and a reputation of trying to bully her ship's officers; she was called Graceless behind her back. The ancient _Fire Lake_ had been trading for more than a century, but her sylph was a fresh faced youngling; the third for this ship. That _Fire Lake_ still traded was a testament to the care and skill of those who had maintained her throughout her long life.

There were fishing boats, small ships akin to her own. _Whistler_ and _Hounder_ ; _Myna_ , _Isis_ , and _Hapnut_ , and many smaller fishing smacks, who barely deserved their own sylph. There were also sister ships to her own fisher: _Crescent Moon_ , _Full Moon_ , _Silver Moon_ and _Gold Moon_. Her own the newest and last of class. She also knew a few of the outlander trading ships, most small and trading from nearby ports. Others traded from as far away as the northern barbarian lands. One of the biggest ships Kytra had ever seen came every year and always caused a stir when she arrived. Usually just before the High Festival, with a cargo of tea that the rich loved to drink.

But of her ship, no sign.

Other ships were out, either trading or fishing. Her own ship was often away for a week at a time. But they had only planned a three-nighter. How long had she been here? And where _was_ the ship?

As before, calling brought no response.

She should not have to call, the ship ought to be there all the time. But the ship's essence had learned to wall herself away from her sylph, often to escape physical pain. And the Father knew the sylph suffered that often enough. Kytra was left to face it alone, while the ship cowered in a recess of her mind.

The northern Captain drove ship and crew hard, but seemed to have second sight when finding fish. Dark nights could prove dangerous to abusive ship captains, but success and wealth had saved Lenar from a quiet splash over the side. Spreading that wealth among his crew helped keep him alive.

He also drank a goodly portion of his money away; so much so that he may as well pour money over the side of the ship instead of pissing it over.

But whatever demons pushed Lenar to drink also drove him to violence. He never accepted the advice of his ship, but instead beat her sylph whenever an excuse presented itself. Kytra's bruises were remarked upon ashore, but the sylph always brushed over the comments, while envious of the ship's ability to seal herself away when the blows fell. For the crew, it meant they had a sulky sylph to reassure more often than not and a sullen, reserved ship.

No good could come of it, but she had no choice.

And now this. The ship sailed without its sylph and guardian.

A shudder ran through her. In that moment, she knew the ship's essence had returned.

_Sister,_ whispered the ship, from her usual place in the sylph's mind.

Ship!

We must flee, bondage sister. We must flee.

***

The ship had retreated to silence. Kytra wondered why she should flee: where could she go? Everything and almost everyone she knew were in Hejiller. What had frightened the ship?

A quick rummage through the locker beside the bed revealed her clothes. She dressed quickly and winced as the rough shirt snagged the bandage covering her wounded ear. She must discover what had panicked the ship so badly. Ready to leave, she pushed her head out of her room and looked both ways along the corridor. Nobody.

She left the room cautiously and turned right. She always turned right out of the sail locker that served as her cabin on the ship. When she reached the docks she would learn what she had missed. Nobody could deny her that. But perhaps those who owned this institution might try to stop her.

Luck was on her side. She found the way to the front of the hospital, seen only by a very small sylph, who stared wide-eyed at her, earpoints bolt upright.

Unaware that the nurse who usually staffed the front desk poked about under it for a dropped pencil, the ship's sylph walked through the front door and into the city's hammering heat.

She put as much distance as she could between herself and the orphanage hospital. Aware of every stare as she walked towards the harbor, she moved quickly but purposefully. And tried not to look as if she had run away.

Expressionless dark eyes regarded her as humans wondered why she walked alone and obviously not on an errand.

One or two sailors, knowing what she was, if not who, gave her quick nods and friendly grins, but they also noted her bandage. Her free earpoint lashed in irritation. After winding her way through the crowds, she finally reached the harbor.

She stuck her head in at the Quaymaster's office. " _Velvet Moon_ in?" she demanded of the clerk, wearing her usual impish grin.

She and the clerk were good friends. He always gave her a generous ration of choca, an unheard-of treat in the ship.

The clerk's eyes widened in surprise, as if he expected anyone but her. "Kytra. She's overdue by four days. Are... Are you all right? When you were..." He cleared his throat and ground his teeth. How ship owners treated their property was none of his business.

"Overdue? How long since she sailed?" Her hand hovered close to the bandage.

"Eight days."

"Eight?" The sylph's voice squeaked. "There has been bad weather or did they sail south?"

The clerk looked even more miserable. "Not south. _Evergreen_ and _Latcher_ are out looking for her. One's returning now, but we don't know which yet."

Kytra blinked. "Thank you," she whispered. Turning out of the office, she saw her littersister – Lyrran – hurrying toward her.

Lyrran stared and concern mingled with barely concealed fear. As she hugged her sister, a hand gently brushed her bandage.

"Please leave it alone," begged Kytra.

"What has he done to you?"

The injured sylph blinked back tears. "It should get better."

"Should? Where is your ship?"

Kytra knew her littersister referred to the part living within her, not the wooden vessel. "With me." She needed say no more than that.

"Watchtower's signaling!"

The two ship sylphs looked at each other, before dashing across the quay to the _Running River_. They scrambled easily up the rigging for a better view. Kytra did her best to avoid sympathetic glances thrown her way. They stared at the flags on the watchtower.

" _Latcher_."

Kytra said nothing, but nodded. In her mind, the ship spoke.

We must flee!

The sylph ignored the ship, but instead stared at the small sail that had just come into sight between the two headlands. She stared until she could not doubt that this was the _Latcher_ , sent in search of her ship. As the ship came closer, a crowd of sailors, stevedores and ship sylphs gathered to see what the _Latcher_ brought with her.

Kytra remained silent, but dropped onto the deck of _Running River_. Followed by Lyrran, she joined the small crowd. Sailors looked down and made way for her and the expectant buzz suddenly muted. Most faces held a strange mixture of sympathy and concern.

As the newcomer came head to wind – almost perfectly alongside – Kytra and the _Latcher_ 's sylph looked at each other. Joyana must be smallest adult sylph in the world, and spoiled by her crew. She had an irritating tendency to act the age they believed her to be, but she looked solemn now. No sign of her usual smile and she lowered her head, unable to hide tears.

Kytra stared at the scratched wooden nameboard lying on _Latcher_ 's deck. She could not read, but she recognized the shape of every letter on that piece of wreckage. She fell to her knees.

"No!" she screamed.

The ship's voice broke into her mind. _I tried to warn you. I told you we must flee. They will blame us, blame you. The ship is gone, little sister, the ship is gone._

***

Hingast listened as the scout reported to General Hanan, while Marshal Janost nodded his head behind.

Large numbers of people from Calcan and Sandester passing into Marka... Raiding parties still reporting successes... Little sign of the rural population moving into Marka in greater numbers than before.

"Our enemies are still unaware of our approach," remarked Dervra, at Hingast's side. "Those from Calcan and Sandester are families of soldiers already in Marka, not reinforcements."

"They know we're coming," growled Hingast.

"We've seen nothing of these sylph scouts allegedly surrounding us."

"You know very well that our sylphs continuously mention strange whistles. This is doubtless how the enemy sylphs communicate with each other and Marka." The sylphs in Hingast's camp belonged to his officers and men. Though most were infertiles, they had nothing wrong with their hearing.

"They've demonized these sylph scouts."

Hingast scowled. They had certainly done that. There were only a small number of sylphs in his camp, and they claimed thousands of enemy sylphs surrounded them. And that they weren't really sylphs at all, but monsters with eyes of fire and ears that lashed like whips. He would strangle whoever had started that rumor, human _or_ sylph.

"Do you think the enemy knows how many carpenters march with us?"

Why did Dervra worry about the _carpenters_? Hingast shook his head. "If those sylphs are scouts, the enemy knows everything about us. How many war machines we have; how many soldiers and camp followers. If those sylphs are scouts, they'll know everything."

Dervra glanced at his companion and held his tongue.

"Have you learned anything more about this so-called Emperor?" Hingast spoke into the silence.

Dervra pulled himself together. "Nothing more than we already know. Strangely, my sources say he commands the loyalty of the two Vintner claimants."

"They're probably happy to leave him in place to take the blame if anything goes wrong," grunted Hingast. "Or waiting for the right moment to depose him and return things to a more natural order. A sylph as Emperor. Laughable."

"But true. Rumors persist of an ilven in the palace, but how she got there I've no idea." Dervra had several ideas, but had no intention of enlightening Hingast.

An ilven, when none had inhabited this continent for decades, if not centuries. "Siranva's daughters are not renowned for their seafaring skills, Dervra. That suggests to me that somebody brought her here. Where from and why?"

"The why worries me more."

Hingast recognized the evasion. "Are you sure Sandev is the only one of the Ten in Marka? Can you handle two?"

Dervra's eyes narrowed. He must remember that this man forgot nothing. "The only other Sandev can reach is Grayar. Leave him to me."

"Any details of siege preparations?" pressed Hingast. "Mikhan knows the work, he even writes pamphlets."

"Assume that they're making ready."

"Stop the raids against the farmers," commanded Hingast, quietly. "If there is to be a long siege, I want the farmers available to us. Send orders to the raiders."

Dervra gave no sign as to whether or not he agreed with the order. As long as he carried it out, the claimant couldn't care less what the man thought.

"And we must assume that they're aware of our reinforcements," continued Hingast. "Always assume the worst; that way all surprises are pleasant."

Dervra raised an eyebrow.

"And I doubt if they'll call their scouts in when we arrive." His gray-blue eyes stared at the other man calmly. "They'll leave them outside Marka; sylphs don't need cities to survive. They can live anywhere. They can even eat grass. Marka will be... interesting."

Dervra's face showed agreement. "Talking of sylphs, what do you intend for this Emperor? A noisy hunt?"

Hingast smiled. "That will depend on my mood. When I lay my hands on him I may just kill him, if I'm feeling aggrieved over something. If I'm feeling sporty, we'll have that nice noisy hunt. And if I'm in a good mood? We shall find a special cage to house this pretend Emperor, a place where he can be comfortable on public view. As he'll spend the rest of his life in that cage, it had better be very comfortable." He laughed. "We'll display him in Eldova as part of a freak show. Or perhaps I'll just kill him anyway. That's a three-in-four chance he'll end up dead."

Satisfied that Zenepha was doomed, Dervra nodded. "I hope you're not growing overconfident. It's never good for your enemy to know everything."

"The city will be in our hands sooner than you think. I swear on my life."

"On your life? Then perhaps it _is_ time to end Sandev's grip on power." Dervra looked to be in a much better mood than he had for days.

***

Ean- _y_ -Felis crept closer. Though he had helped train the wild sylphs who wanted to be scouts, to be sent into the field with two had annoyed him. A hasty, if intensive, couple of weeks training could never replace the proper teaching potential scouts usually received. He was the only thoroughly trained scout of the three, which meant he must carry amateurs. Perhaps they had only been sent with him to relay his messages to Marka and keep him company. Which in turn meant he had all the really dangerous work to do.

His opinion of them had improved since.

The two with him insisted on doing their fair share of the work and they could formulate whistles properly, not just relay them. They had done well and Ean could not fault them.

He nodded approval to Aksanvun, who had spotted the fleeing infertile. Ean shared the other scout's confusion as to why the sylph should be running. He then saw the large dog pounding grimly uphill after the small sylph. It looked more wolf than hound: a hunting dog. An escaped dog, or did someone in Hingast's army train it to hunt sylphs? They could easily work out why. The second wild sylph, Tilipha, touched Ean's arm.

"Shall we get the girl?"

"Good idea." Ean gave instructions quickly. All three were in position moments later, ready to head the infertile off and swing her into a tree, away from the dog. It looked like Ean would get her. As she ran breathlessly into the forest, the scout darted out from behind his tree and grabbed her.

"If you want to live, keep quiet and climb!" he hissed.

Silvery gray eyes wide with terror, the sylph bit off a scream and all but flew up the tree. Ean encouraged her to jump from tree to tree, until they reached a stream, when he directed her to climb out along a branch and swing into a tree on the other side. From there he helped her down and out of the foliage, back to the ground. Aksanvun and Tilipha rejoined him.

"That dog is still at the bottom of the first tree," grinned Tilipha.

"Strange it does not bark," remarked Ean.

The infertile had a fist pressed to her mouth, perhaps to keep screams inside. Wide-eyed, her earpoints slanted backwards in her hair in fear. If anything, she looked more terrified since her rescue than before it. She stared at all three painted sylphs as if they were ghosts.

"You are safe from the dog," Ean told her. "They cannot follow a scent across water, or into air. Why does it chase you?"

The captive sylph looked carefully into all their eyes. For some reason, her fear eased a little.

Ean waited patiently.

"They train dogs to capture sylphs," she replied, after a brief pause. "Show where they are." She saw two of the sylphs wore no collars and began to look frightened again. "To show where the enemy scouts are."

The scouts exchanged glances.

"We are sylph scouts," Ean told her. "We work for the Emperor of Marka."

The infertile stared at each of them in turn. "They say you have eyes of fire and stand taller than any other sylph."

"No eyes of fire," Ean assured her.

"You have followed us for days."

Tilipha laughed. "For weeks."

"What will the dog do when it finds you?" demanded Ean.

"Stand guard over me," replied the infertile.

"Will he hurt you?"

"Only if I try to escape."

"What is your name?" Ean smiled.

"Meylka."

Aksanvun and Tilipha exchanged a confused glance and twitched their earpoints.

"Pretty name. Care for your owner?" Ean widened his eyes questioningly.

Meylka nodded.

"Tell him now we know about the dogs, we will find a way to make sure the dogs never find us. We have no argument with sylphs; you may go."

The infertile needed no urging. After a last look at the scouts, she slipped away and almost immediately began to run.

"We should take her with us," said Aksanvun. "She will tell."

Ean smiled. "Let her tell her owner we have learned of the plan to use dogs. They will abandon it."

"Why?"

"You seem certain," added Aksanvun.

"We will invent a counter to their dogs. Humans are clever and can work around any problem."

Neither of the wild sylphs looked convinced. "What if she did not care for her owner?" asked Tilipha. His brow furrowed.

Ean smiled. "I would have invited her to come with us. As she is happy, I am content to leave her in peace."

"You enslaved sylphs are confusing."

Ean's smile broadened. "We must get far away from here. Soldiers will come looking."

***

The memorial service touched Kytra. All the sailors in Hejiller were present, together with the families of the dead. The imhotep who led the service even managed to say nice things about Lenar Frist, which amazed the sylph who had belonged to his ship.

The ship – the part living in her – feared the reaction when people learned that _Velvet Moon_ had sailed without the protection of her sylph and then been lost to the sea. But everybody expressed condolences and gave the ship their sympathies.

Kytra had other concerns. Being a young sylph, with most of her life ahead of her, she wanted a new ship. Surely there could not be two ship masters like Frist. But the local shipbuilders doubted if there would be another _Velvet Moon_ built in the near future. If ever; some names gained a reputation.

Now that she officially belonged to nobody, she was supposed to sleep at the orphanage. There the Matron changed her bandage every day and inspected her wound. Her damaged earpoint refused to regain any movement and Kytra's disappointment grew. It hung limp whenever Ceren removed the bandage. The matron could only commiserate; she could do nothing to help.

Kytra spent her days at the docks, chatting with friends and the other ship sylphs. She missed the sea and grew gradually more despondent. She sat at the end of the longest quay, watching ships come and go. She stared longingly at the headlands, beyond which lay the endless ocean. She sometimes forgot to return to the orphanage, when a constable would come to collect her. That the other – comparatively free – ship sylphs saw this only added to her humiliation.

Every day she hoped to hear of a new ship being built. She pestered the outlander ship sylphs and asked about new ship orders in their ports. If the name _Velvet Moon_ was used at their home.

Every day, she returned to the orphanage disappointed.

***
**Chapter 16**

Siege

Marcus Vintner regarded Aylos Jalan expressionlessly. From the height of Jablon's back, he watched Aylos's assistants plant three strangely shaped columns into the ground. Fixed to thin wooden stakes, the tall affairs had pointed tops and what looked like paper protruding beneath like tails.

Marcus and the scientist were not alone. Several purple cloaked Guardsmen surrounded the rejected claimant, and General Ranallic sat on his own horse nearby. Belaika stood beside Jablon, and Bascon – who claimed to want some exercise – stood behind his brother scout.

The display area stood well away from the buildings and Marcus wondered why Aylos's two sylphs had been wandering about the farmhouse's thatched roof, wetting it with buckets of water, when he arrived.

While the civilians prepared the demonstration, Marcus and Ranallic discussed caravans. One from Calcan, receiving Ranallic's order to turn back too late, had still not arrived. Several other caravans had disregarded the orders passed on by sylphs, as for them Marka was the nearest haven. But the rest had turned back, the danger from Hingast's approach now too great for them to continue.

"Almost ready," said Aylos, looking apprehensive. His future depended on this.

Aylos had lobbied hard for people to attend this demonstration. Mansard had dismissed the inventor, but Ranallic had listened carefully. And made his recommendations to Marcus, who would otherwise not be here. Marshal Mikhan also showed an interest, but claimed duties kept him elsewhere.

Aylos knew his city faced great peril from the approaching Hingast, and this only increased his eagerness to prove the firepowder. If the demonstration went well, he hoped for permission to continue his work within the walls. He did not want to fall into Hingast's hands.

Aylos glanced unhappily at the horses, fearing a stampede. "You should dismount and secure the animals," he suggested. "They will not enjoy this."

"These are trained warhorses," countered Ranallic. "They are disciplined."

"They do not know firepowder."

Ranallic looked at Marcus, who shrugged almost imperceptibly and swung out of his saddle. One by one, the other men followed their leader's example, but held their reins in one fist.

The two sylphs helping Obert fix the columns returned. They smiled uncertainly at the scouts and one gave a hand signal. Belaika and Bascon clearly understood it, as both looked startled. They blinked at each other, then stared at Marcus, wide-eyed and earpoints slanted sharply back.

Detecting their mood, Marcus wondered what might happen.

"What do you call those things?" he asked Aylos.

"Rockets," replied the scientist. "Obert designed and built them, but the powder inside is my recipe." He grinned. "Only Tredden and Baylan, Obert and myself know what that is."

Marcus looked at the rockets again, where Obert stood with a burning taper. It refused to be extinguished in the breeze and he wondered if this was another invention.

"And you can produce them quickly?" asked Ranallic.

"I will need one hundred helpers," replied Aylos. "That will guarantee a steady supply until the ingredients run out."

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

Aylos turned and nodded to Obert, who set the taper to the tails of the rockets, quickly checked to ensure all three burned properly and ran as fast as he could back to the small group.

With three whooshes, the rockets followed each other skywards, watched by all. Human and sylph mouths fell open in wonder. There were three barely audible pops, one after the other.

Marcus's mouth twisted in disappointment. "That's not very –"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Men, horses and scouts screamed in terror at the explosions. The men recovered first and wrestled with horses that suddenly wanted to be elsewhere. Belaika and Bascon scrabbled for cover in the dirt, eyes wide and earpoints wilted.

"– impressive," completed Marcus.

Even the sylph scouts needed time to regain composure and the horses longer still before they settled. Even now, as the scouts sat up and grinned uncertainly at each other, their earpoints betrayed inner fear. Belaika in particular looked unsteady as he pulled himself upright.

Marcus stroked his chin. "Useful for frightening the enemy, but I suspect that will work but once." His eyes met those of Aylos. "Any other uses for this... firepowder?"

"Oh yes." Aylos nodded. "Using the slow-match designed by Obert, it is possible to pack powder inside a wooden ball and catapult it at the enemy. The wooden ball explodes once the match has burned into it, scattering fragments in all directions."

A small smile played about Marcus's lips. "Exploding wooden balls."

"Killing all within reach."

"Hmm."

"It has potential," said Ranallic. "If we pack small pieces of metal with the powder, it would cause more casualties."

Marcus nodded. "That would be even more effective. If vicious."

"All wars are vicious." Ranallic shrugged. "If only we have this weapon, we hold the advantage."

Marcus nodded again. "For a short while."

Aylos looked from one to the other.

Marcus turned to the scientist and his assistants. "You get your hundred helpers."

Aylos smiled and bobbed a bow.

Marcus continued. "After speaking to the Emperor, I'm sure he'll grant you permission to continue your work within the city walls. You'll also be charged with producing as much of this powder as is humanly possible in the time left to us." A small smile played about his lips. "I'm sure the Supreme Council will also be pleased to hear of your success."

A huge smile blossomed on Aylos's face. "Thank you, thank you." He bowed again.

Marcus smiled back. "Your firepowder could prove decisive." He remounted Jablon. "Be ready to move this afternoon. His Majesty will concur with my decision."

Aylos smiled. "The Emperor is wise."

***

" _Anya_ , two guardsmen to see you. With a sylph."

Sandev followed Caya to the open door. Two guardsmen supported a battered sylph between them. The creature's earpoints hung limp and he dangled from the burly officers' arms, his feet splayed behind. An aroma of beer emanated from him, and some still dripped from his body. Smudged blue blood covered his exposed skin and his nose looked to be broken.

"Beggin' pardon, Ma'am," said one of the guardsmen, "but we think he's one of yours. We _think_ that's what he kept trying to say."

The sylph looked up and gurgled something incoherent.

Sandev's expression grew more concerned. "Janin!"

Caya grimaced.

"He is one of mine. Bring him in, bring him in. Stanak!"

"I'm here." The bodyguard took Janin from the guardsmen and cradled him in his arms before carrying him deeper into the villa.

Sandev turned back to the guardsmen. "Thank you for bringing him; you may go."

Wary of Sandev at the best of times, the guardsmen bobbed their heads and left quickly, shown the way by Caya. Curiosity roused, the female sylph then followed Sandev and Stanak.

Stanak gently laid Janin down. Difficult with all the cuts and bruises he could see; the sylph had received a hard beating.

"A beggar." Caya wrinkled her nose. "Stinking of bad beer and other things."

The object of Caya's disgust looked up, eyes barely focused, but he remained silent.

"Oh poor Janin, what's happened to you?" asked Sandev, quietly.

The sylph beggar turned, but his eyes suddenly glazed and he lapsed into unconsciousness.

"He's drunk." Shock now mingled with Caya's disgust.

Stanak wrapped the sylph in a blanket. "We'll find out what happened to him when he's slept it off," he said. "We need warm water for when he wakes."

Caya sniffed. "He is dirty, he needs hot."

"He's unused to hot water," countered Stanak. "He'll think we want to scald him. Prepare warm." His gaze augured into the female sylph, but she only looked at Sandev, who nodded.

" _Se bata_." The female sylph padded out of the room.

Sandev watched her go. "She'll sulk. I must go to her."

Stanak nodded. "I'll look after Janin." He couldn't care less if Caya threw a strop. Any water hotter than warm would do the boy no good.

His employer nodded her thanks and walked after her sylph. The bodyguard's attention returned to the prone sylph, whose head protruded from the blanket, the rest of him wrapped securely. The beggar muttered, lapsing into unconsciousness almost as quickly as he woke. His earpoints lashed about, suggesting he was not properly asleep. He fumbled for a corner of the blanket and clung to it.

"When you wake, my lad, you'll have quite a head on you," chuckled Stanak, patting the sylph's shoulder. "It should last for hours, which some might say serves you right."

Janin muttered and groaned. His breathing labored through his broken nose, and Stanak worried that the boy might drown in his blood.

"I'm interested in hearing what's happened to you; I doubt if you've become a drinking partner of the people you're supposed to watch." Gray-blue eyes twinkled as Stanak stared at the prone form. He smiled as Janin's earpoints relaxed and his breathing evened out. The sylph now slept properly.

Stanak looked around as Sandev joined him.

"Caya's insisting on hot water," she said.

"Is she heating it now?"

Sandev nodded.

"The boy's asleep. With luck, it'll have cooled off by the time he wakes." Stanak suppressed irritation. Caya belonged to Sandev, not him.

"Has he said anything?"

"Nothing worth repeating." The man looked down at Janin again. "He's only just gone to sleep."

"They tried to drown him." Sandev's voice was very quiet. "Marlen believed he must be working for me, so he tried to kill him."

"Marlen's probably intelligent enough to know it takes longer to drown a sylph than a man," said Stanak, after considering Sandev's theory.

"He probably uses others to do his dirty work and they're not necessarily as bright as him."

Janin turned in his blanket, muttered and fell asleep again. Both humans watched anxiously. Sandev laid a hand on the sylph's forehead.

"He feels all right," she told Stanak. "No long term harm has been done. Cuts, and a lot of bruises..." Her mouth twisted in distaste. "They tortured him! Poor Janin."

"His usefulness as a spy is at an end," pointed out Stanak. "We must find him other employment."

"I have just the thing in mind." Sandev smiled. "Let me know when he wakes."

***

"Dogs?" Marcus Vintner raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Guard Commander Mansard nodded. "That's what Ean's report says. The commander of today's caravan also passed it on from his sylph. Ean and two others found an infertile being chased by a dog from Hingast's camp. It was being trained to flush out sylphs. Ean spoke with the girl before releasing her."

"Are they intended to harm the scouts?" Olista attended the meeting, supposedly to deal with keeping the city supplied with enough food and water.

"Apparently not." Mansard grimaced. "It might be better if that was the intention. Subtlety is not a virtue I normally associate with Hingast."

"Captured so information can be extracted from them." Olista looked concerned that the advantage of sylph scouts might suddenly dissipate. "And when the sylph has outlived his usefulness?"

Marcus gave a sour grunt. "Hingast hunts sylphs for sport. That's what he regards as the real advantage."

"Is the report accurate?" asked the Supreme Councilor, quietly. "You've all heard of Tervan Whispers?"

Principal Chancellor Lanas nodded his agreement. "A line of people where the first whispers a story or instruction to his neighbor, who then whispers it to his neighbor, who then..."

Marcus smiled. "Yes, the story at the other end of the line is quite different, isn't it?"

Lanas smiled and inclined his head.

"That will not happen here," continued Marcus. "There is a reason why we are happy to send partly trained sylphs into the field. Even though they cannot compose a message, they can certainly pass one on. Tervan Whispers holds good for humans, not sylphs. They can listen to and repeat instructions, orders, commands, messages, whatever, without dropping a single word, or even altering it in any way. Hum or whistle a tune to a sylph, and he can hum or whistle it back, bar perfect, months later."

"Months?" Olista and Lanas looked equally surprised. And impressed.

Marcus spread his hands. "It's why they make such good scouts. Let them know any moves you plan to make with your army, and they will be able to find you for as long as the information is good. If the message is that Hingast trains dogs to find sylph scouts, then that is exactly what he's doing."

Zandra noted the reaction of the others with satisfaction. Didn't these people know their own sylphs?

Jenn, as usual with her owner at these meetings, gave the other humans a curt nod, pleased that the doubters of the sylph scouts' abilities had been comprehensively defeated.

Verdin interrupted. "I trust that caravan is the last, Guard Commander Mansard," he said quietly. "Hingast can't be far away now."

"The last from Calcan," said Mansard. "The scouts report that most other caravans from Sandester have turned back."

Verdin changed the subject. "I hear there are one or two problems with the rallying points."

Mansard smiled. "Since Lance Captain Kestan took charge, all the glitches have been sorted. Every external patrol now has two scouts with it and there are more with each rally point. Even better, they can be moved as the situation demands and the scouts can whistle reports to each other easily."

Marcus nodded. "Now that the scouts are properly distributed, we get reports quicker. Life's so much easier when we know what's going on around us."

"So we know all about Hingast's position and speed?" pressed Verdin.

"We do. And how many men and war machines he has. And how far behind his reinforcements are. Looks like he brought the bulk of his army with him."

"How far?"

Marcus looked very serious. "He should arrive outside the gates within the next three days."

***

Zenepha's earpoints strained towards the music. His head leaned to one side as he listened to the flute. The music came from his bedchamber, which meant Djerana kept his wife company. He paused outside the door to listen a few moments longer, before pushing it open.

The ilven had her back to him, but the music stopped abruptly as she became aware of his presence.

"Please carry on," he begged, as Djerana twisted around on the floor to look at him.

Selkina nodded her agreement as her husband moved around the musician to join her on the floor.

With a hint of a smile in her emerald eyes, Djerana bent her head to her flute and continued to play. The music tugged at every emotion, changing from joyful to sorrowful, desolate to hopeful, angry to calm, all within a few bars. Zenepha wondered how she did it. She either knew this music by heart or made it up as she went along. He suspected the latter.

As the tune came to an end, both sylphs clapped their hands. Djerana looked startled for a moment before recovering her composure.

"Beautiful," breathed Selkina.

Zenepha nodded agreement.

Djerana blushed, then abruptly changed the subject. "How is everything? Is His Majesty pleased with the progress made?"

"Please do not call me that." A pained expression crossed the sylph's face. "My name is Zenepha and we are alone. Besides, you are an ilven."

Djerana smiled. "Zenepha."

"Very pleased. The Vintner armies make life easy. The city is as defensible as it can be. I only wish I could do more in a direct sense."

"From what I know of humans – and sylphs too – just having a leader is enough for them to follow." The ilven's eyes glittered. "You know they brought me here to attach myself to Marcus Vintner. Much as he interests me, seeing a sylph as Emperor, ruling humans... If nothing else, my attachment to you is purely voluntary."

A delighted smile spread across Zenepha's face. His earpoints went bolt upright and twitched in pleasure at her remarks. But he gave the ilven a quizzical look. "There is still time for you to leave the city. I doubt if Hingast will prove very friendly toward you."

"Abandon you? Certainly not. Besides, the Father will guard me." Outrage flickered in Djerana's eyes. Perhaps at the suggestion she should leave, showing that he doubted her loyalty.

"As you wish." Zenepha nodded.

He had heard ilven were timid creatures who usually avoided involvement in human affairs. However, he had just learned they did not lack courage. And other people claimed ilven were the Father's warriors, though he found it hard to reconcile that image with the creature sat before him.

"I must meet with all my advisors after eating," he continued, changing the subject. "And after that, I must meet the Principal Chancellor and his ministers. Care to join me?"

Djerana pulled a face. "If it helps remind them that you're in charge and no longer 'just a sylph', then I'll come with you."

Zenepha's silvery gray eyes shone with gratitude. "Thank you," he said. "Now, I would very much like to relax. I think some of your beautiful music will help me."

The ilven nodded and raised flute to lips again.

***

He stayed safely out of sight here, but he had a good reason to watch the sylphs training below. Even if seen, his presence would not be questioned.

Sixty or so sylphs exercised in the large yard. He had no interest in the females, but he enjoyed watching the males. Mostly wild sylphs, with a smattering of volunteers from the city, learning how to be scouts.

An involuntary shudder rippled through him as he watched sylph muscles flex beneath exposed skin. Tightening and loosening as they exercised. Not bulging muscles as humans might boast, but sinewy and strong nonetheless. His breathing quickened as his gaze slid lower, to areas covered by breeches. He knew what lurked there of course. His hand trembled on the knife he always carried.

Resist the urge. Resist.

His teeth locked together and his lips curled in a rictus of a smile. He could not indulge; he _must_ not indulge. Far too long since the last one fell to his knife. The ecstasy of watching willingness to please turn to realization and horror. So pliable, so submissive, so eager to obey. Even to demands they knew would disgust their owners, even to demands that made them nervous. Until they saw the knife.

None tolerated that. All attempted escape. Years before, those who were not pretty enough for him were forced to flee a hunter and none returned. After his service changed, he became the hunter and stole the property of others. They were not abused in the way most sylphs would accept, however reluctantly. That would be disgusting. His hand trembled on the knife again.

Resist the urge. Resist.

He hated loose ends. Years before, he had been caught and forced to flee. He would never repeat the mistake.

Eyes closed, he tipped his head back and his tongue protruded between his teeth. Fear turning to realization and finally acceptance as the lifeblood drained away. Blue, sticky blood that smelled no different from human blood. The last shivers, the final breaths. Then stillness. A need sated. Until that need dominated his thoughts again, and demanded fulfillment.

Resist the urge. Resist, resist, RESIST!

His eyes snapped open and his gaze returned to the yard below. Most sylphs down there were ownerless. They might make more interesting prizes. Some were pretty, _very_ pretty. Too pretty for masculinity. That was wrong and it must be put right. His hand trembled on the knife.

Resist the urge. He must resist the urge.

***

Stirring, Janin pulled the unfamiliar blanket around himself. He had chewed one corner to sogginess; he vaguely remembered poking it into his mouth. A flush of embarrassment rose in his cheeks; he had not indulged such childish behavior for years. His head felt like someone swung a smith's hammer against it and he suspected something furry grew inside his mouth. Or had crawled in there to die.

Aching all over, his skin felt sticky. He had difficulty breathing through his nose, with one nostril completely blocked. Pain pounded through his head and a groan escaped his lips. The pain meant he still lived, but that might not be a blessing.

"Awake at last."

Janin blinked and turned his head. "Stanak- _ya_?"

"Yes lad, me."

"He tried to drown me," whispered the sylph. "In beer."

Stanak's gray-blue eyes twinkled with amusement. "Sounds like a waste of perfectly good beer to me."

"Not the best. I drank as much as I could." Why did _everything_ hurt?

"The City Guard brought you," continued Stanak. "She wants to question you when you feel up to it."

"Sandev- _ya_?"

"Sandev- _ya_." Stanak patted Janin's hand. "Don't worry, she'll be gentler than your last questioner."

"He tried to _kill_ me."

"Can't know much about sylphs, or he might have made a better job of it."

Janin tried to smile, but only managed a grimace. "Can I get up?" he asked.

"Of course. Your old things have been burned; Sandev has supplied replacements. You'd better be grateful."

The sylph swung out of bed and placed both feet on the floor, wincing in pain. Certain that the floor would not suddenly move, he stood, swayed briefly, then steadied himself. His hand went to his neck. No collar.

"Where are these new clothes?" Janin looked around.

Stanak smiled again. "On the other side of a bath. Sandev wants you smelling sweet so you don't offend Caya's sensibilities."

"You are going to bath me?"

Stanak chortled and stroked his neck. "No, I'm far too squeamish. Caya is going to bath you."

Half an hour later, a considerably cleaner Janin, dressed in short breeches and shirt, reveled in the comfort of new clothes. A cord tied his long silver hair back. One hand touched his neck repeatedly; he felt naked without a collar, so unnatural to be without one.

Though the pain had faded, his head still hurt. His cuts and bruises were clean; he would not have thought Stanak possessed a gentle hand. But all his bruises ached. And he wanted food.

In Sandev's study, Stanak lowered himself into a chair. He accepted the proffered alovak and thanked Caya.

Janin's gaze wandered leisurely around the room. All the walls were lined with the mysterious books in which humans stored their knowledge. The mysterious black lines and squiggles were meaningless to him. Rugs covered the floor, warm and comfortable to his tough bare feet. A clepsydra gurgled in one corner and startled him briefly. Two windows provided most light, as the light crystals placed in sconces around the room were covered, except for one at the side of Sandev's table, which glowed with a faint green light.

His attention turned to Caya. He stood a little shorter, but he still had growing to do, whereas she was fully adult. She regarded him neutrally, an unimportant boy of no concern. Still an improvement on the expression of disgust displayed when she bathed him.

Why did Sandev- _ya_ have a female sylph as a personal slave, when most ladies preferred infertiles for the role? None of his business, so his question stayed unasked.

"Better?" Sandev's speedwell eyes shone at the sylph.

Janin nodded. "If sore."

"Very sore, I expect. Come closer."

Sandev beckoned and, as he stepped toward her, she leaned forward and touched his head. His eyes widened, tinged with fright, but that fear left him almost immediately, taking his pain with it. He glanced at Caya, who looked just as unsettled, then back again. He touched where some of his bruises had been, but found only unblemished skin and no unnatural tenderness. Air flowed through his nose as it should, and met no resistance.

He smiled. "Thank you, _donanya_."

"The least you deserve. I would have healed you sooner, but feared you might be too weak for it." Sandev sat back and changed the subject. "Did you discover why these men were staying at the Guildsman?"

Janin shook his head. "They went out often, but they did not seem to be doing anything. _Were_ staying at the Guildsman?"

"They left," rumbled Stanak, ominously. "Once they realized you were a spy and decided to kill you, they moved to another safe house."

"Safer house, as it happens." Sandev grimaced. "We have no idea where they are now."

The sylph shrugged and spread his hands. "Nor me." He noticed Caya's disapproving glare and wondered why he felt disappointed by her reaction. "I can try and find out for you." No change in Caya's expression.

"You're no longer any use spying." Sandev steepled her fingers and rested her chin on them. "What do you think the future holds for you?"

Janin's eyes widened and his earpoints came bolt upright. He had assumed that he would return to begging, but the question hinted at other plans. "I will become an even poorer beggar," he muttered. "And need to find a new pitch."

Sandev laughed, a sound of delight that made him stare. Mockery?

"Janin, Janin." She shook her head. "Your begging days are over." She leaned forward. "They know who you are now. Once they realize they failed to kill you, they'll return to finish the job if you're unprotected. And beggars are about as unprotected as it's possible to be."

Janin blinked.

Sandev continued. "The Emperor, bless him, wants to reduce the number of beggars on Marka's streets. The proximity of Hingast has slowed his original hope of getting people and sylphs out to farms, but there is demand for sylph scouts. If you like, I'll take you to the training area tomorrow morning. My only stipulation is that you belong to someone."

Janin's hand again strayed to his uncollared neck.

"I would like that very much," he replied. "But who will have me?"

"You may wear my collar."

Janin grinned and his earpoints twitched in happiness. "This sylph is most grateful."

Caya sniffed and shook her head. Janin turned and grinned at the domestic slave. "Not jealous, I hope?"

Sandev laughed.

***

Zenepha looked around at the human faces. Olista sat to the sylph's right and Marcus Vintner to his left. Marshal Mikhan, General Ranallic and Guard Commander Mansard were present, and Captain Crallin of the City Guard. His Principal Chancellor and the five advisors he had appointed were there. Two freshly appointed Imperial Guardsmen stood at the doors, alert for any threat to the Emperor.

Jenn went around the table and poured alovak, happy to wait on. It meant she stayed with her owner. Djerana smiled and nodded at all those who acknowledged her and managed an affronted look for those who did not.

Zenepha held up a sheet of parchment while his eyes scanned it, reading the list of recommended rations. "You can reduce even further the rations for domestic sylphs."

"Isn't that dangerous, Majesty?" Chancellor Lanas pursed his lips.

"Not really." Zenepha twitched his earpoints. "We only slow down when food becomes scarce, and not die like humans. Not as quickly, anyway."

Lanas inclined his head. "As you command."

Marcus Vintner said nothing. When food became really scarce, even sylphs starved eventually, but they certainly lived longer than humans in the same circumstances.

"I'm still not convinced that Hingast will attack us," announced Senator Maben, representing the faction that supported Hingast's claim to the Throne. "I believe he's coming here to state his claim and be treated on an equal footing with the two claimants already here."

"There is only one claimant here," said Olista.

"I've never heard of Hingast traveling to a city free from his rule and not attacking it," said Mikhan. "He sometimes attacks cities that _are_ under his rule."

"Besides," interrupted Marcus, who sensed trouble brewing, "this meeting is to discuss our readiness for siege, no matter what Hingast's intentions are. If he comes in peace, then our preparations will prove unnecessary. But best to be prepared." Marcus very much doubted that Hingast came in peace.

Unimpressed, Maben sniffed. "None of the Emperor's advisors have been allowed to attend the military meetings. Not a one. Yet, you invite the Inner Sanctum."

"The Inner Sanctum represent the people of Marka," countered Zenepha. "It has a right to know what is going on. My advisors exist to advise me, not discuss military tactics." He knew he could not trust this man with any military plans, knowing where they would end up. All his other advisors had warned him about that.

"You don't invite us because you don't trust us," complained Maben. "That is the real reason."

"If you wish to tender your resignation that's fine by us," said Olista. "Not even I'm invited to the military meetings and I'm quite happy with the situation."

Sensing he wouldn't win this argument, Maben spread his hands in surrender. "I still think it most irregular."

"Think what you wish." Marcus forced a smile. "His Majesty has approved the tactics and strategy. That'll have to be enough for you."

"There is one other matter of concern, Majesty," said Captain Crallin. "Although morale in the city is high, it's come to my attention that prices for certain commodities have more than doubled in the past week. I recommend urgent action to prevent this profiteering or we'll have riots in the streets before much longer."

Zenepha nodded his agreement. "Good point, Captain Crallin. Chancellor Lanas, we need an emergency piece of legislation, making profiteering punishable with forfeiture of property and liberty. Ensure prices are monitored and checked for fairness. As far as I am aware, nothing is in short supply yet; wagons still come and go through the city gates every day."

Lanas nodded. "I'll see to it, Majesty."

The knock on the door was so unexpected that everybody jumped. A nervous Markan messenger poked his head around it.

"Marshal Mikhan, Sir," began the boy hesitantly, perhaps overawed by all those in the room, "but Lieutenant Patisk sends his compliments. Hingast has arrived outside the city."

"See?" crowed Maben. "I told you he'd come in peace!"

The messenger shook his head. "The land is black with Hingast's men and we stopped counting the war machines when we reached a hundred."

Zenepha looked up and nodded. "Thank you. We shall join Lieutenant Patisk directly." He looked around the table once more. He sniffed. His earpoints twitched violently. "Gentlemen, I believe the time for talking is over."

***
**Chapter 17**

First Blood

As Zenepha and his small entourage climbed the steep stone steps onto the city walls, Lieutenant Patisk of the City Guard scrambled to his feet. From beside the Emperor, Mikhan tutted.

"The lad needs someone to keep an eye open for visitors," muttered the Marshal, for Zenepha's ears alone. "I'll have a quiet word later; he can't be caught out like this."

The ripple of bows and murmured greetings from the soldiers should have been warning enough that someone important approached.

Mikhan and Ranallic flanked Zenepha, with Crallin and Mansard immediately behind. Marcus and Verdin Vintner were with a clutch of politicians at the rear of the small entourage.

Composure restored, Patisk inclined his head. "Good evening, Majesty."

"Good evening, Lieutenant Patisk," replied Zenepha.

The man looked surprised that the Emperor knew his name. The sylph saw unasked questions shining in the young Lieutenant's eyes. Mikhan spoke highly of him, so Zenepha could at least take the trouble to meet him.

He looked over the crenelled wall and fought to control the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. He hoped nobody else noticed his wildly twitching earpoints, or at least misinterpreted their meaning. A slave should _not_ have to deal with things like this.

Slowly and with difficulty, he forced his fear away. "That them?" he asked.

"Yes Sir." Patisk nodded.

It was as the messenger said. The enemy had camped just beyond the range of Marka's catapults; this meant the city remained beyond Hingast's catapults, an incidental benefit. But the army covered the land outside the walls.

Row upon row upon row of tents stretched into the distance, with the gold and black war flags of Eldova dotted liberally everywhere. A line of wooden stakes, already driven into the ground, sheltered the war machines.

"I take it they have control of all the roads?" Marcus kept his voice low.

"Yes sir." Patisk made it sound like _of course_.

Verdin, Mikhan and Ranallic watched the proceedings through their spyglasses. Marcus glanced enviously at them.

Zenepha noticed the envy. Mikhan told him that the spyglass – or magnifier as some called it – had long been a secret weapon used by Ulvic and then Branad Vintner. The lenses for the iron tube of the spyglass were ground in a heavily guarded manufactory in Sandester.

Mikhan also told him that Marcus had tried and failed to match the workmanship of the Sandesteran lenses. Zenepha wondered why Marcus didn't use Kelanus's glass, but then remembered they had impounded it with the rest of the disgraced General's belongings.

"Hmm." Mikhan swung his glass this way and that.

Zenepha waited for his Marshal's conclusions.

"He has enough men to take Marka, but not so many that he will soon run out of supplies. Those men are building new roads for the war machines, so Hingast can move them in and out of range at will. No sign of miners."

"Miners?" Zenepha exchanged confused looks with the politicians.

"Any weak points?" asked Marcus, too proud to borrow a glass.

"None I can see: he has enough men to cover all escapes." Mikhan shook his head. "I hope we have enough soldiers and sylphs outside. We may be able to smuggle more out at night, but the city is surrounded."

Zenepha grimaced.

Marcus turned to one of his men. "Find Aylos and bring him to my rooms."

The soldier briefly touched fist to chest and left.

"Hingast might sit this one out," announced Ranallic. "Let us starve, or wait for us to make the first move."

Marcus smiled. "We might do just that," he said. He turned and nodded to Mikhan before inclining his head to Zenepha. "With your permission, Majesty, I will retire."

Zenepha nodded. "Let me know how your meeting with Aylos goes."

"Of course."

Most of Zenepha's entourage left with Marcus, but Mikhan and Mansard stayed at his side. Patisk escorted them around the walls, answered questions and pointed out everything Zenepha asked to see.

Very aware of Mikhan's presence, Patisk felt flattered that the senior man let him do the talking. Mikhan interrupted only once, as they approached the industrial quarter.

"Most of the manufactories are now spread through the city," said the marshal. "I'm sure that spies have informed Hingast about the industrial quarter, but only time will tell if he knows we've now scattered our industries."

Zenepha nodded and glanced across to the towering pyramid. "I hope the enemy has no way of climbing that to spy on us."

"It would take a brave man to try." Mikhan chuckled. "The sides are like glass. Nobody can get a grip on that."

Zenepha's earpoints tilted forward. "Keep a close eye on it. Humans are capable of surprising things."

Patisk nodded. "I will see to it, Majesty."

"I'm pleased to see you've managed to face every wooden building," said Mikhan. "You've done well. I thought we might have to pull a few down."

"If Hingast is going to wait, there seems little point in the work," said Zenepha.

Mikhan's deepset blue eyes twinkled. "So General Ranallic says. I've no idea where he gets his ideas from. It's only a matter of time before Hingast's impatience gets the better of him; I'll be surprised if he decides to just sit this out." He glanced over the walls towards the enemy again. "Very surprised."

***

"Thank you, Tilipha, please repeat all that to my secretary."

Lance Captain Kestan smiled at the wild sylph, waiting for him to leave the tent before turning to Lance Lieutenant Dekran. The other man did the work of a Captain and Kestan wanted to promote him. That he himself did the work of a General was irrelevant for the moment. A battle for another day.

"There's not a single wild sylph in Marka." Dekran had been surprised when they all refused the shelter Marka offered.

"Not their way. We can defend this valley with the men we've got. And we may need all the sylphs."

"There are forty scouts here and Siranva knows how many more scattered about."

"Another forty at least. More when the messengers return." Kestan grimaced. "How did the watchers take the news that reliefs might be less frequent?"

Dekran smiled. "Not well. A demand for double rations of choca on their return. But it's understood they report to us now."

Kestan restrained a laugh. "Even the wild ones have discovered the joy of choca. When we get time, we'll detail off some less experienced scouts to take over from the watchers."

"And other scouts from the caravans that turned back are coming to us."

"I hope the messengers will be received by Marka's allies. Sandester worries me most."

Dekran nodded. "They will learn Marka is under siege. We sent humans there, rather than sylphs. At least they will know in Calcan."

"Many of these scouts are too young."

"Or from the city."

Kestan masked a sigh. The fully trained sylph scouts and the soldiers seemed to regard the Markan sylphs as somehow backward. The city boys were certainly softer than the wild sylphs, but most were shaping up well under the training.

"And there was another row about female sylphs in the corps. City sylphs again."

No need to mention which city. Kestan shook his head. "They'll learn different," he said. "Aelfina is right: every sylph must do what they can for the good of all."

Both men turned as Kestan's secretary banged on the canvas outer wall of the tent. He entered when called.

"Finally managed to get it all down, Sir," he said, grumpily. "That Tilipha's too excitable by far, can hardly get his words out quick enough. Strange for a sylph."

"Thank you, Patol." Kestan smiled and took the single sheet of paper from the secretary. He scanned it quickly before waving the sheet in Dekran's general direction.

Dekran took the report as Patol left the tent and nodded to himself.

"We are to harass Hingast wherever and whenever possible. But no stupid missions, or suicidal attacks." Kestan looked thoughtful.

"Attack the army how?" A scowl furrowed Dekran's brow.

"Hit his supply lines. The sylphs have spotted every enemy scout and messenger so far; if we send men with the scouts, they can run down and kill them before information reaches Hingast."

"Is that why we moved so many men to the rallying points?"

"Partly." Kestan nodded. "Three hundred soldiers doesn't go very far, but if we concentrate where we hit Hingast and use our heads, they'll believe a far larger army is here."

"We can cause a lot of trouble." Now the way had been suggested, Dekran already visualized possibilities Kestan had not thought of. "The first time we'll have surprise on our side, but that'll only work once."

A scratch on the tent wall heralded Aelfina. He strolled in, not waiting to be called. "Groups of men from your enemy are cutting trees in the forest. They are spread out, some a fair way from the army."

Dekran smiled. "At last, good news."

"Why is that good?" Aelfina frowned, earpoints slanting forward. Puzzlement shone in his silvery gray eyes. "Those trees will be used to make timber for more war machines." Although his question had been asked in the human tongue, the sylph still had insufficient grasp of it to continue for long. He quickly lapsed into his native language.

Kestan smiled at the sylph. "Because they're unprotected. Nobody suspects we are here."

"If you attack them they will."

"Then a large number of enemy soldiers will be tied down protecting woodcutters. And, when we get going, even more to protect supply wagons and camps. They will not be very happy." Kestan thought briefly of his wife and children, now trapped in Marka. He hoped and prayed they would be well. Hingast had earned his unsavory reputation. It had fallen to Kestan and his men to help ensure the man never got inside the city.

Aelfina's face cleared. "You will attack the enemy soon?"

"I've no intention of letting them settle and learn their way around."

The sylph regarded Kestan. "There is much risk. We must move our home regularly. Soldiers will hunt us to destroy us."

Dekran nodded. "We'll keep moving about. First, we must discover exactly how many men and war machines are here and tell Marcus."

"Which is why you sylphs are invaluable," added Kestan. "No human can hear your whistles and no sylph in Hingast's camp understands them. With any luck, they'll never learn how information is passed from outside the city and back again."

Aelfina looked from one to the other. "Your scouts tell me of one named Velisar," he said.

Kestan raised an eyebrow. "He is here? I hadn't heard."

The wild sylph's earpoints twitched. "They are unsure. But there have been some odd reports. Who is he?"

"He suggested sylph scouts are possible," replied Kestan.

"His owner got killed a couple of years ago," said Dekran. "Some of the lads think he died from grief and is now a ghost. Others say he's found where trouble is greatest."

"What do humans believe?" Aelfina looked interested.

"That he should have been taken in hand after his owner's death and not allowed to go feral, which is what happened." Kestan sighed. "He is the first and probably the best sylph scout."

"He has chosen freedom over slavery." A happy smile spread across the sylph's face.

"Perhaps." Kestan looked unconvinced. "I doubt if he's heard the argument your tribe has begun."

Aelfina laughed and his earpoints twitched in pleasure. "The argument that must be heard. Wild and enslaved sylphs do not meet often enough."

Dekran stood. "I don't have time to hear Aelfina go over his arguments again. I'm off to brief the lancers. Time to frighten our enemy."

Kestan waited for the Lieutenant to leave before turning back to Aelfina. "There is something I want to ask you."

"Ask."

"The infertile who serves me."

Aelfina nodded.

"She still has not given me her name. You said she would."

The sylph shook his head. "I said she might. She still serves?"

"Yes."

"Then she is still to make up her mind. Give her time; infertiles are strange."

"Will she share her name?" pressed Kestan.

"Sometimes they do. Sometimes they do not. It is their choice." Aelfina shrugged. "She may think you are forward if I ask her again."

Kestan sighed. It wasn't just infertiles who were strange, in his opinion. "I don't want to be as bad as the men I rescued you from."

Aelfina lowered his voice. "We know the difference between you and them," he replied. "I will ask the girl again on your behalf and pass back her answer." He grimaced. "She might think you too pushy."

"Thank you." Kestan smiled again. "Now I must join Dekran."

Aelfina watched the human leave the tent. When should he tell Kestan what all his brothers and sisters had decided? Was it fair to add to his responsibilities? Would he accept the extra duties? Above all, were they sure they wanted this? He sighed. He had heard of enslaved sylphs becoming wild sylphs and he had heard of wild sylphs being sold or abducted into slavery. But he had never heard of a large number of wild sylphs decide to bond themselves to one human.

A first time for everything.

***

Grayar and Salu strolled along Marka's main thoroughfare. Grayar marveled how much the city had changed since his last visit. Ever since he and Sandev had established Skorin – just shy of six centuries ago – he had all but ignored Marka.

"Why are we out here?" grumbled Salu.

"Because exercise is good for you," retorted her owner. "And overeating is not; you spend far too much time in the kitchens."

After founding Skorin, Sandev had returned here and left him to care for "his" new empire. They had seen little of each other since.

"Not much chance of that," replied Salu. "Our rations have been cut."

An infertile passed and Salu grimaced at the noisy anklet of bells the other sylph wore. Her earpoints lashed.

Grayar glanced at the anklet, and knew he could never make his sylph wear such a thing. Nor would she volunteer for it. He had adapted to the local fashion of billowing shirt and tight breeches, though he much preferred the simple smocks he wore at home.

Markans had long held the reputation of being a drab people, but both men and women wore brighter colors than he remembered. And when he last visited, domestic slaves did not wear bells.

"It's hard to believe the city is besieged," he said.

Salu gave him a quizzical look.

Grayar gestured towards the taynors who worked hard to keep up morale, even if most people ignored them. "Everybody's about their business as if nothing else is happening."

Salu pursed her lips and stared pointedly at the armed soldiers in the streets. Before, most had been camped outside the walls. "The beggars are gone."

Zenepha had resolved to make employment for the beggars and it looked like he had succeeded.

"The male beggars learn to be scouts and messengers, and the females nursing or domestic skills," said Grayar.

"A lot went into the manufactories," pointed out Salu. She shuddered.

"Better than begging,"

"How much further are you going to make me walk?"

Grayar chuckled. "Until I'm sure you're properly exercised. And myself, of course."

"I'd rather be in the kitchens."

Grayar knew Salu rarely mingled with others of her own kind. His cottage stood milas from human habitation and, even though the nearby ilvenhome had a colony of wild sylphs attached to it, the wild ones had little time for domesticated infertiles. So Salu spent most of her time alone, not good for a member of a gregarious species.

"You can return to the kitchens when we get back," he promised.

"Why are we still here? You brought Djerana to Zenepha. Why not go home?"

"You know why." Grayar's voice firmed. "Sandev needs help and we are going to give her that help."

Salu restrained a sigh. She suddenly looked up, staring at one of the three celestial objects visible from the world's surface in daylight. The Ark Star passed overhead, directly above the pyramid.

"You and she must fight Dervra."

Grayar wished he had never explained about the Ten to Salu. He glanced up at the Ark Star. "I hope not. Outwit him yes, but not fight."

His sylph walked on a few steps, staring at the pavement, her earpoints wilted.

"And Dervra has probably got Nicolfer working with him," continued Grayar. "They usually work together to bring us trouble."

Salu muttered something under her breath.

"Marka's civilization has collapsed twice since its foundation," said Grayar. "Dervra and Nicolfer were behind both events. Now they want to stop Marka from growing again."

"Why?"

"Probably because the Malefic Sephiroth works its will best when humans are divided against themselves."

"The Ten were supposed to stop the Malefic Sephiroth from using humans." Salu remembered her lessons well.

"And we failed. We had to stand apart, but we stood _too_ far apart. We're also supposed to protect ilven, and not making a very good job of that, either. Their numbers still dwindle."

Salu changed the subject, a habit she had picked up from those ilven. "Now Marka is ruled by a sylph."

Grayar grunted a half laugh. "A sylph. An impressive one, but still only a sylph."

"Djerana likes him."

"Which will help protect him. I'm not surprised he was sold from the Key: something about that boy commands respect. However, I don't think even he can hold Marka together for long. It depends how he handles himself during the siege. But people will still see 'only' a sylph."

Turning a corner, they met the full glare of the sun.

"Can we walk in the shade? If I must exercise, I do not want to cook at the same time."

Grayar chuckled. "There is much to be said for living in a maritime climate," he said, as they crossed the road. He had forgotten how hot Marka could get in summer. And this was only early summer. "Missing home?"

"Yes," admitted Salu. "I will never grumble about the rain again."

Grayar and Salu suddenly stopped and looked at each other. The sylph rubbed her arms and her earpoints wilted.

"Sorcery," she whispered.

_Or perhaps the Gift_ , reflected Grayar. That seemed unlikely. He sensed something not quite right, a dissonance he usually associated with sorcery. And wielded by an adept.

Just one thing marked the difference between the Gift and sorcery. Siranva granted the power randomly and seemingly without reason, a gift in the true sense. Practitioners of sorcery always began by actively seeking the power, and often by those who lusted after power for power's sake. Even if they believed they sought it for altruistic reasons. And the Malefic Sephiroth always inspired it. Normally, Grayar would need to be face to face with someone using the Gift or sorcery to sense it.

Here, he could almost smell it.

"Nicolfer," he whispered.

"Not Dervra?" Salu's voice held more than a hint of wishful thinking.

Grayar looked at his sylph and patted her shoulder. "Enough exercise for one day."

"Oh good," said Salu.

***

He watched the sylphs training to be scouts. Now the wild ones had left the city, these were former beggars and a few bored with domestic service. The beggars had been swept from the streets, so even that potential source of relief was closed to him.

Being surrounded by so many lithe sylphs set his heart pounding. Even under the camouflage paint, he could tell these "boys" were far too pretty for masculinity. Perhaps one would fail soon and he could pounce, disguising his act as an apparent suicide. It would not be the first and he doubted if it would be the last. Unless someone caught him. That risk added yet more excitement, but he always took care. He had been caught once and escaped, but he was not infallible. Or immortal.

The way that one's muscles rippled under his skin to catch his attention. Thigh muscles tensioning and relaxing, causing a wiggle in those private places where no man should look at another male. The shame of it! Those places were covered with short breeches of course, but he knew what lay underneath. Perhaps that one would fail next; he must be by far the prettiest of them.

He gritted his teeth. Too pretty for masculinity. He would sort that out, he knew he could. As he caressed his knife, a small smile turned his lips.

***

"Around the walls again."

The sylphs hid groans as the human Sergeant issued his command. Most were tired of running around the inside of the city walls, staying below the walls proper and keeping out of the soldiers' way. The Sergeant alternated between sending the trainee scouts around handwise and counterhandwise. Many were already sluggish though the day had hardly begun.

Thankfully, the paint granted anonymity among the other sylphs. Janin heeded Sandev's warning that Marlen or Petan might catch him and this time ensure he died. Worryingly, the dull black collar around his neck told all those who were literate his name and that of his owner.

"Come on, let's move!" called the Sergeant, tapping his stick against a thigh.

At this dark hint, all thirty of the trainee scouts broke into a run, pounding grimly along the alleyway between the walls and the nearest buildings.

Janin had never been so fit, but he wondered if it was really necessary. For the moment, nobody entered or left the city. He doubted if there would be much running before the siege ended. Admittedly, he felt lean and gratefully accepted the extra food his new duties brought, but he doubted if he would get much scouting done outside the city in the immediate future.

As he ran at the head of the group of sylphs, he reminded himself of the whistles he must learn by heart. How the scouts communicated impressed him.

Many of the more experienced scouts helped teach the raw recruits the whistles. The sylph language had been broken down into twenty-one basic sounds and each sound had its own whistle. Janin suspected humans used something like this to trap knowledge on paper. He knew letters formed their mysterious writing, but nothing more than that. A string of these sounds made the messages easy to translate back into speech. All the trainee scouts could pass whistles on, though few could yet compose anything more than very basic messages.

Some complained about the tough training, but Janin found it easier than his previous life. Plenty of physical exercise, lots of food and his own pallet for sleeping. Camaraderie between the trainees made him feel right at home, being similar to that found on the streets. Perhaps more a feeling of unity against a harsh world.

Even penned in the city, Janin's days were full. All trainee scouts were up at daybreak for a run before breakfast. After eating they cleaned their dormitories and communal areas, then a lesson in the art of scouting. Followed by another run, this time in the day's full heat. The Sergeants ensured every sylph drank plenty of water, so nobody had an excuse for not running in the heat.

As Bascon had explained, sometimes a sylph must run to his objective before learning that it had been moved several milas further away. Which meant pushing himself even harder to reach the new objective.

Janin would not let his owner down. He could not fail her again. Ninety-seven sylphs had begun training days before, now only thirty were left. Most failures were too wary of open spaces, a fear common in sylphs.

But Janin stiffened himself with resolve.

According to the Sergeants, this was the easy part of the training. The trained scouts who had arrived with Marcus Vintner never hesitated to point out that normal circumstances dictated five years' training before a sylph should run with the army. But they no longer had time.

Janin had overheard Bascon and the Sergeant talking about this. The sylph expressed his concern that most of the scouts outside the city were barely trained. He feared this inexperience might be dangerous to both scouts and soldiers.

Janin blinked as he heard the human Sergeant – speaking in sylph, of course – address Bascon as an equal. The sylph spoke in the same manner, as if natural for him to do so, suggesting he had some status among the soldiers. These Sergeants had arrived with Marcus Vintner and Janin wondered where their first loyalty lay. He would bet that Marka did not rank highly.

He pounded along the line of the walls, grimly determined to let nothing get through. He was tough enough, he knew it.

***

Belaika followed Marcus from the new command headquarters to the palace in characteristic silence. That the Markans had become dependent on his master's army and deferred to its undisputed leader, pleased the sylph. But Marshal Mikhan seemed not to understand Branad Vintner had been defeated and that he should follow Marcus now. The marshal looked more to Zenepha for leadership.

This bothered Belaika a lot more than it did his owner. He wondered how Marcus could tolerate this insult, even allowing for human oddities.

Like every other sylph scout, he kept his paint fresh. Even with no chance of leaving the city in the immediate future, he wore his camouflage as if in the field. Like almost all the younger scouts, Belaika had added black slashes to the normal gray, green and brown. Many of the older scouts frowned upon the practice, claiming correctly that black paint added effect rather than practical use. But no human ever said they could not use black slashes.

The older scouts had a point; females always looked more favorably at scouts with the black slashes.

His new gold collar was carefully stored away, replaced by the traditional scout's black leather collar. His only clothing was a pair of short breeches, painted the same colors as his skin, except for the black. Short breeches were suitable in the increasing heat of the city, as spring gave way to burning summer.

He glanced at his owner as they entered the palace, but remained silent. Marcus acknowledged the guards' salutes with a nod of his head.

Jenn waited at the entrance to Marcus's quarters. Belaika wondered if the small infertile had an extra sense that alerted her whenever her owner's return was imminent. She had already brewed alovak, which she happily served.

"Where's Zandra?" asked Marcus.

Jenn shrugged. "She went into the city with the children and Kaira."

"Very good. All right Belaika, I'm finished with you."

Dismissed, Belaika pattered along the corridor and pushed the door open to his own quarters.

He hugged and kissed Eleka, noses and earpoints touching briefly. He then kissed each of his children, including the newborn Salafisa. The gwerin grew well; her eyes already focused and her limbs moved in more than two directions. And permanently hungry, which was natural. Callie and Sallie, his two daughters, crowded around.

Belaika smiled at them all and looked at the small plate of vegetables. The food looked like it had seen better days.

"We have already eaten," Eleka told him. "Jenn held this back for you."

"Nice of her; she said nothing when I came in."

"Probably knew you would find it."

"And so I have." Belaika thanked his wife and ate quickly. A bland meal, but he knew hardships lay ahead.

"Jenn is worried things will not go as planned," said Eleka.

Belaika's earpoints gave a twitch and he grimaced. "Impossible to tell," he replied. " _Enya_ says the Markans are soft. They have good soldiers, but are unused to war. They believe confidence and faith in the Father is enough to save them." He inspected the last vegetable before eating it.

"That is not enough," completed Eleka. She sniffed.

" _Enya_ is certain we can beat off an attack. It depends on how organized Hingast is, and how well Lance Captain Kestan does his work."

"Kestan- _ya_." Eleka cuddled up to her husband, both lapsing into comfortable silence for a few moments. "Jenn worries too much," she whispered. Uninvited, Callie and Sallie, together with their new sister Salafisa, joined their parents.

Belaika, watching his wife's face, nodded.

The heads of the four sylphs – Salafisa did not move – came up at a knock on the outer door.

" _Anya_?" wondered Eleka.

Belaika listened for voices. A rumble of the visitor's voice, then nothing. He heard the door close.

A few moments passed before Jenn poked her head around their door.

" _Enya_ wants to see you." She looked apologetic for interrupting their private moment.

Belaika glanced at his wife, shrugged, then extricated himself from the tangle of arms and legs.

Jenn gave him a sympathetic look, but offered no explanation as she led him into Marcus's receiving room. The moment he entered, she withdrew and looked happy to go. Belaika glanced at the guest.

"Grayar- _ya_." The sylph inclined his head. This man had arrived the night of Salafisa's birth. And was as unsettling as Sandev.

Marcus sat with his hands steepled before him. "Grayar has a small task for you."

Belaika nodded. "I stand ready."

Grayar's blue eyes regarded the sylph. "You might like to hear what the task is before you agree to it."

That sounded ominous. The scout blinked and his earpoints wilted a little.

Grayar nodded at the sylph's reaction. "A rogue sorcerer is in the city."

The sylph remained impassive. He already knew that; a rogue sorcerer had murdered Branad Vintner.

Grayar spoke as if he had read Belaika's mind. "Not him. This one is infinitely more powerful and a lot nastier, I can assure you. I'm asking you to find her. Nothing more."

Belaika looked at his owner. "You don't have to do this," said Marcus. "Purely voluntary. You can say no."

"I ask you," continued Grayar, "because you already know how sorcery feels."

The sylph managed a nod, but his earpoints wilted and his mouth immediately dried. He felt almost as bad as at the beginning of a battle.

"You are afraid. No shame in that."

"I will do it." Though his earpoints betrayed his inner emotions, Belaika's voice remained calm. "You want me to find her."

"Don't think it's any easier because I ask you to find a woman. She is very dangerous."

"All humans are dangerous." Belaika's silvery gray eyes were steady and his earpoints recovered.

Grayar nodded. "Very true. Sadly this duty must be in addition to all your other work, else you might arouse her suspicion."

The sylph nodded.

"When you find her, tell your owner or myself. Nobody else. Do you understand?"

" _Se bata_."

Grayar smiled.

***

Without Zenepha and Selkina for company, Djerana felt lonely, so she played her flute to herself. Her emerald eyes closed as she swayed to her music. The two sylphs were due to return at any time, so when she heard the door to the chamber open and close quietly, a small smile turned the corners of her mouth. She allowed the last note to fade to nothing.

She looked over her shoulder and expectation turned to disappointment.

"Lady ilven." The Imhotep of Marka raised a hand in greeting. "I am pleased to have caught you at last. A less charitable man might suspect you try your best to avoid me."

Djerana remembered there were times humans did not appreciate total honesty and gestured half apologetically with her hands. She glanced out of the fifth-story window and wondered if the risk of broken legs might not be preferable to this man's company. He would doubtless visit her in the spital every day, for hours at a time. The window no longer seemed an attractive option.

"I had hoped to catch His Majesty –"

"He is out."

"– but I am pleased to have run into you."

_That feeling's not mutual,_ reflected the ilven. She managed to force a smile, hoping this would be a brief visit.

"Some questions trouble my conscience. Concerning Siran – Ah, the Father."

The questions worried her. The Imhotep naming the Father had no relevance. "You need not fear naming Him," she said, cautiously. "It is only overfamiliar for ilven to name Him." Burn it, from the expression on his face, she'd given the man an opening!

He leaned forward, brown eyes staring directly into her green. "They say to do this is to look upon the features of the godhead Himself."

Djerana blinked. "Sounds like nonsense."

"You are Siranva's daughters." He did not stumble over the Father's name now! "Daughters of gods must surely be goddesses?"

The ilven sighed. "We are part of the Benefic Sephiroth. So are Grayar and Sandev; they are not gods. Ilven are not gods." A frown briefly furrowed her brow. "I think. Certainly not while we are here and we do not know what happens after we are called."

"There are many who say the Father is not our god, that He merely tolerates our presence here."

"I've not seen Him recently to ask."

The Imhotep laughed. "Ilven telling jokes?"

"Sarcasm learned from Grayar."

"I am surprised the Father would allow this to happen."

"Sarcasm?"

"The siege."

"Oh, that. Yes." The man trampled over ground ilven usually avoided. Gather food. Eat. Sleep. Stare at the beauty of the world and admire it. Deep theological questions were not her thing. Not any ilven's thing. Not yet, anyway.

"Will the Father help?"

Djerana stared. "The Father's dealings with humans are between Him and you. They are none of my concern."

"So He is not looking after Marka?"

"Marka has an Emperor looking after Marka." Who hopefully would walk through that door at any moment and save her.

"He would be very unhappy should anything happen to you."

Djerana shrugged her shoulders. "What troubles you?"

Now the Imhotep glanced out of the window. "Many are beginning to question the Father's... right... to dictate to us."

"He does not dictate. He gave instructions to humans in exchange for allowing you to remain on the ilvenworld. Human affairs are human affairs and He will not interfere unless humans interfere with ilven."

The Imhotep nodded. "Just so. But people need reminders. If you would only –"

"No."

"You haven't heard my suggestion yet."

"If you expect me to attend those moldy lectures you give to people and waste hours in a drafty uncomfortable building, the answer is no. I'm here to help His Majesty."

The Imhotep's smile looked forced. "It would give people hope."

"People always have hope. That's one of the admirable traits of humans. Usually, anyway."

"And faith."

"Faith is a matter of conscience. Choice is another trait I envy. You belong to neither Sephiroth and may choose your own course."

The door opened. At last!

Turning, Imhotep and ilven bowed. "Majesty."

Zenepha looked from one to the other. "You wished to see me, Imhotep?"

"I did, Majesty. On a private matter."

"Then come through."

Djerana relaxed as the Imhotep went into the room Zenepha referred to as his study. Hardly that of course, but it sufficed for official visitors. Selkina watched the ilven.

"Did he trouble you much?"

Djerana shook her head. "Humans who delight in religion always trouble me," he replied. "Religious humans are fine, but those who delight in it are always trouble."

Selkina shrugged. "All humans are strange. Music?"

The ilven glanced down at the flute still in her hands. "Why not?" She raised the flute to her lips again.

Again, she played as she felt, the initial angry notes fading to something more relaxing as she put her conversation with the Imhotep out of her mind. She was unaware when Zenepha returned to the room, unaware two sylphs now followed every note. Finally, she took the flute from her lips and opened her eyes.

"This is beautiful music," said Zenepha. "I have never heard anything like it before."

"Thank you." Djerana's eyes shone. "It's a pleasure to share it. I seldom play for other than my sisters."

"Yes," agreed Zenepha and Selkina, speaking together. They exchanged a surprised look before laughing.

The ilven looked from one sylph to the other and realized that these two were perfectly matched. Selkina, happy to remain in the background while her husband ruled the city, remained an important emotional prop for him, essential for his comfort and wellbeing. She considered her words carefully before speaking.

"The humans you chose to help you govern are an able group," she said, cautiously. "Marcus Vintner is impressive, as are Mikhan and Ranallic. I approve of your former owner and Marka is in good hands."

"Thank you, but you must praise Olista." Zenepha blushed a brighter blue. "He made most suggestions."

Djerana nodded. "On the streets, people cheer you. Already, you earn respect and that is no mean feat."

Selkina nodded. "The servants say how wonderful it is to have an Emperor, and they don't mutter 'even if he is only a sylph'. Not now."

Zenepha barked a laugh. "They'll say different when something goes wrong. My commanders and politicians run Marka, not me."

"Not necessarily," interrupted Guard Commander Mansard, from the doorway.

Ilven and sylphs turned.

"You sound certain." Zenepha's voice was flat.

Mansard smiled. "The advantage of monarchy is that people identify with a person as their ruler, instead of an institution, no matter how noble that may be. Their prince shares their sorrow or joy, he remains among them no matter what. His military commanders and politicians defer to him for any ultimate decision, even if that decision is no more than official sanction. These people will follow you anywhere and everywhere, Your Majesty."

Still unconvinced, Zenepha sniffed. "What brings you here, Guard Commander?" he asked, changing the subject.

Mansard's dark blue eyes twinkled. "Your Majesty has forgotten his command for me to come here at this time every day? To train you how to avoid trouble when trouble comes looking for you. You wished to learn the same self-defense techniques used by our scouts."

Zenepha's face cleared. He _had_ forgotten, but he was not about to let the human know that. "I lost track of the time," he said.

Mansard nodded. "If it is still your pleasure, I think we should begin _ebatela_ now."

Selkina and Djerana settled down to watch as Mansard began to put the Emperor through some basic exercises and moves. They also might learn something.

***

Nicolfer looked into the far corner of the cellar. The solitary light crystal threw dark shadows across most of the floor and walls. Tangan cowered in that corner, hugging knees drawn up under his chin. His head tilted forward and long hair hid his features. His earpoints were buried under that hair, hidden from view, and a low whimpering came from him. Nicolfer made a note to shorten the chain that secured him; it allowed him far too much freedom.

The boy had crammed himself as far into the corner as he could go, seeking protection from her, or if it might somehow block his fears. The sinabra smelled strong down here, mixed with other odors. She must remember to have him washed now and then. Although not directly related, the sinabra always seemed stronger when a sylph was unwashed.

"You cannot hide from me there." She grimaced as Tangan gave no reaction.

She had tried to reach the most primitive part of his brain, the part that dealt with all survival matters. The potential for violence would be hidden there. She began to doubt if it existed at all. Those who had mixed together two separate species to make modern sylphs had done their work well. They had wanted non-violence and it seemed they had succeeded.

But there was more than one way.

She crossed the floor and crouched before him. No need to maintain the pretense of disablement or squalor here. This close, his sinabra flowed strongly around her. He flinched as she touched his arm.

She masked a sigh. He had been the most aggressive sylph she could find, known for squabbling with others. That squabbling never extended to humans and certainly never translated into violence. Offering him violence failed to provoke; nothing provoked him. She must be careful. She wanted to remold and modify him. She had no need or wish to break him.

"You force me to try another way."

For the first time, Tangan looked up and almost met her eyes. He quivered now, probably a mix of fear and shock. She saw doubt in his glowing silvery gray eyes, though his earpoints were still wilted. He hugged his knees even closer, but at least he no longer hid his face from her.

She looked down at him. The risk of damaging this sylph was great. Despite her reputation, she liked sylphs and did not wish to harm one unnecessarily. Or so she convinced herself. Despite that, she believed him mentally strong enough to survive.

"I'm afraid you won't like this, there will be some pain."

Tangan's whimpers grew in volume as Nicolfer came even closer and stretched out her hands...

***

Lance Captain Kestan led seventeen men through the forest, following Aksanvun. The first raid since Hingast's arrival, and the first time any wild sylph would see battle. Several were scouting, though Ean- _y_ -Felis sent all the directions. Kestan felt sorry for Ean, for he and his master were trapped on opposite sides of Marka's walls. That would not impair the scout's professionalism – after all, sylphs were often separated from their owners while scouting – and Kestan moved forward with confidence.

He and his men were not mounted and had left their usual uniforms behind. Drab clothing and painted faces were the order of the day. The scouts had taken great delight in making up and applying the paint, using subtly different schemes per man. The scouts could tell the soldiers apart, but Kestan knew he could not. They didn't want the foresters to realize that they were under attack until too late, hence the paint and drab clothes.

No escape route would be provided; Kestan wanted these men to be missed and a search party sent for them. He had decided the risk must be taken, so they would wait for and ambush that search party. Though the thought of killing civilians caused a shudder, the effect of this small raid on the morale of Hingast's men made it worth abandoning the usual rules of war. And made easier because he knew nothing would stay Hingast's hand should the situation be reversed. Despite this justification, many of his soldiers viewed the raid as no better than murder. No honor would be gained tonight.

The sound of axes and adzes reached his ears and he knew they neared their victims. Of course, the sylphs with them had heard the foresters long since and now fanned out, ready to whistle a warning if any prey tried to escape. They would also warn of the search party's approach, who would then provide yet more deaths intended to upset and frighten the enemy. Hingast would learn that soldiers were free of the city, but he accepted that loss of information. After all, the man would learn eventually that not everyone was penned inside Marka.

Aksanvun peeled away from the small column and took up his station at the rear, as commanded. Kestan and his men crept forward, moving silently. Ean had reported sixteen foresters, all working on recently felled trees, making spars for more war machines. One of many such groups, but these foresters were the furthest from Hingast and the easiest to attack.

Kestan wanted Hingast to send guards with his work parties and hoped the heaviest guard would be put on those working furthest away. He then intended raiding the group nearest Hingast's army. After that, he would rely on the sylphs to tell him where the guards were weakest before deciding where to assault next. And attack the enemy in his camp. Every opportunity to harry this army would be exploited, hoping to inflict damage and casualties far beyond anything expected from his small force. By this time next week, he hoped to have ten or more raiding parties constantly attacking.

He drew his sword and held it above his head.

He and his men burst from their cover and fell on the surprised foresters, many of whom cried out in terror. Kestan thrust his sword, did not wait for the man to fall and turned his attention to a large forester already swinging his ax, a man obviously with his wits about him. Ax met sword and was parried aside, before Kestan slid his dagger into the forester's ribs. He turned again, ready to cut the next man down.

"You fools!" yelled one man. "We're on the same side!"

Kestan restrained an urge to laugh, even as he ran the forester through. This one thought he and his men were raiders working for Hingast.

Sweat trickled down his back; even in winter battles were hot, but the Markan summer broiled and he was glad to be unarmored. Bad enough in leather tunic and breeches.

Only minutes had passed since falling on the foresters and they were now dead. One man licked blood from a small wound while using his other hand to hold cut skin together. One of the scouts stepped forward and pressed leaves to the cut before tying it off with a bandage. The soldier nodded thanks. That looked to be the only blood lost to his own side.

He smiled. "Gentlemen, I think we drew first blood."

The men grinned at each other before stepping back into cover. They were too well disciplined for cheering. Aksanvun's eyes and earpoints betrayed disgust and revulsion at what had happened. Kestan knew the sylph would be pale under his paint. They all reacted the same way first time. All the wild sylphs here would share the feeling, unless they had something wrong with them. Kestan wasn't bothered by the reaction, for no sylph enjoyed fighting, even if not actively involved. They would get used to it.

"Now," he said, "we wait for the search party."

***
**Chapter 18**

Reprisal

General Hanan's pale blue eyes betrayed concern as he reported to Hingast. A group of foresters and the search party sent after them had disappeared. He had sent another search party – this one larger and better armed – and it returned with bad news. The foresters and the first search party were dead, ambushed by unknown soldiers.

"Markans," grunted Hingast, sourly.

"It would seem so." Dervra smiled at the hapless General, before tapping his fingers together. "Infantry or cavalry?"

"No sign of horses," replied Hanan, "but they used swords and bows, which suggests light cavalry."

"Cavalry acting as infantry?" Dervra raised an eyebrow. "Would they lower themselves?"

"The arrows were fired from smaller bows than those used by infantry." Hanan gave Dervra a cold look. He resented having his professional judgment questioned. "Bows most often used from horseback, in fact."

"A large group of men?" Dervra seemed unaffected by the General's distaste.

"Not on the raid." Hanan shook his head. "No more than twenty and perhaps fewer than fifteen. With all the tracks, it was hard to tell."

"Did your men follow the tracks?" pressed Dervra.

Hingast watched and listened.

"They led to deadfall traps and tripwires. Whoever's behind the raid is clever and cunning. From Marcus Vintner's army, no doubt."

Dervra stroked his chin.

"I agree with Hanan," said Hingast. "The man is intelligent and obviously spends much of his day dreaming up new tactics. I'm curious to learn how these soldiers knew where to strike."

"Sylph scouts. Lots of the footprints were arranged so." Hanan placed his hands to show bare feet and half feet. "Sylphs rise on the balls of their feet for anything quicker than a slow walk. A shame our scheme with the dog was compromised. We should have ensured that Sajalan beat that foolish Meylka of his into a pulp."

Hingast stared. And people believed _he_ was cruel. "She got punished," he growled. "These things happen."

"Even so –"

"For now, General Hanan, the groups of foresters furthest from the camp must be protected at all times. Ensure camp sentries are tripled and spaced every fifty pacas, or the enemy will be creeping among the tents. And tell _everyone_ to keep their wits about them and report anything out of place. No punishments for false alarms."

Hanan inclined his head. "It shall be done, Majesty." He stared at Dervra for a cold moment, before he ducked out of the tent.

Dervra sighed. "Your General doesn't like me very much. I may have to hurt him."

"Leave Hanan alone." Hingast's gray-blue eyes glared haughtily at the advisor. "He's good at what he does. And I'm not surprised he got tetchy, with you doubting him like that."

Dervra shrugged. "We must cover all possibilities. Which leads me to ask another question. Can we be certain that this was not our own raiders at work?"

Hingast drained his alovak. "Very certain," he replied, after a pause. "For one thing, our raiders no longer operate here. They have work elsewhere, because we want no mistakes like those you suggest. Secondly, we do not use sylphs. I'll offer a reward to anyone who can capture a sylph scout. It will be fun to hunt one of them; let's see how good they really are."

Dervra smiled, though it did not touch his blue eyes. "Then it seems Marcus Vintner is cleverer than I credited."

Hingast shrugged. "Best not to underestimate enemies; they have a nasty habit of surprising you. However, we don't need worry overmuch about these irritating little raids. Our men will quickly discover where these soldiers are hiding and sort them out."

"Messenger, Majesty!" called the guard, outside the tent.

"Let him pass," replied Hingast, glancing at Dervra.

"Majesty." The messenger swept a low bow, perhaps to mask nervousness, which could only mean more bad news.

"What is it, Malan?"

The messenger swallowed. "Majesty. There has been a raid on the far side of the city. Eighteen men killed and sixteen war machines destroyed."

"All right, thank you. Leave us please."

The moment the messenger was out of the tent, Dervra turned to the other man, a triumphant smile on his face. "I thought you said not to underestimate your enemies," he chortled. "It seems to me that these _irritating_ little raids are already becoming more than mere pinpricks."

Hingast stroked the scabbard of his sword and calmed himself. It took some effort. He reminded himself over and over that Dervra had power, that he could destroy him if he even breathed out of place. He must wait. "We should let these Markans grow ever more ambitious and confident. Arrogance will follow and then they will make mistakes." He smiled. "Then, it will be my turn to be the hammer."

"We cannot afford to have huge numbers of men tied down hunting these troops," cautioned Dervra.

"That's right." Hingast's smile widened. "But I've thought of a way to tempt them out to attack us in force."

"Really?"

"I'll retaliate against these raids by attacking Marka itself. Not a full scale assault, but a little tester. Let us see how well the Vintner armies work with the Markans, eh?"

Dervra nodded. "I approve of this, Your Majesty. Wholeheartedly approve." He hoped his smile hid his dislike of the man opposite. Hingast would live for as long as he served Dervra's ends and not a moment longer. He prayed only that Hingast would prove equal to the task ahead. He could not afford loose ends.

***

Sandev stared at the focus. This one boasted green, blue and white striations reflecting the green light of her desk light crystal. She felt increasingly tired as she filled it; _charging_ was the word they used to describe the action. This was her second today, but she only managed two every other day. Other days she managed one. She wished she could tell Grayar, but she knew his likely reaction if – or more likely when – he learned she had the foci.

She could not even confide in her ever-faithful Caya. The sylph did not understand the Gift and wanted nothing whatsoever to do with it. This normal sylph reaction did not make it any easier to bear.

She still waited for Sernan to come back to her concerning the sylphs who had escaped Kelanus's alleged grasp. She knew better than to go and visit him again; he would report when he had something to say and not before. If she kept popping across to see him, he would feel she hounded him for answers. If there were no answers, he would have said by now. For once, no news was good news. He had the sniff of a good trail.

She stared at the focus in frustration. The things had never been easy to charge and she began to despair of ever having enough to evacuate Marka's people. And this one proved especially difficult.

"Ah, the Father take it!" She almost slung the focus into the far corner. Father, but she felt tired! She gripped the focus in her hand and, if it had not been so sturdily made, might even have crushed it. She calmed herself and returned her concentration to charging. She must be ready for the worst. Only the foci could move them all to safety.

***

Grayar bowed to Caya, much to her surprise. "Is your mistress home?"

The sylph nodded and held the door open for him to step inside. Her eyes widened as Salu followed, the smaller sylph smiling uncertainly at her. Caya led the visitors into a receiving room with a high ceiling and a plethora of paintings.

"I will bring _anya_."

"Thank you."

Grayar inspected one of the paintings and admired its beauty. He knew it must be very old, perhaps two hundred years or so, but the superb depiction of a forest glade looked much better than the primitive art churned out at home. Salu crouched on her heels, waiting. She had received her instructions.

"Good afternoon, Grayar." Sandev's sapphire eyes sparkled as she entered the room.

Grayar returned the greeting. He looked curiously into her face; she seemed tired for some reason. "I need to speak with you." His keen blue gaze flickered briefly to Caya, who had followed her mistress into the room. "Alone."

Sandev raised an eyebrow and glanced at Salu questioningly.

"My sylph has a few questions to ask Caya. You know, cleaning this or that, a 'how do I do this?' sort of thing." He grinned.

Sandev nodded to Caya. Salu rose and left the room with the other sylph. "All right, Grayar, what's bothering you?"

"Nicolfer is in town."

Sandev's face paled. "In the city? Oh, by Siranva, I knew she wouldn't be far from Dervra, but not that she might be _here_!"

Satisfied, Grayar nodded. He knew Sandev's reactions intimately. She was not lying now. And for her to use the Father's name quite so openly...

"I felt sorcery," he said, eventually. "Not just any sorcery, but enough power to do almost anything. There are only two who have had time to develop their skills to such a level, and one of them is outside the city with Hingast."

"I've not felt it, but I rarely wander around the city." Sandev shook her head. "My routes must be well known to her."

"If we add Nicolfer to those you already know about, we must move quickly to discover what they plan to do. But what of those about whom we know nothing?"

Sandev sighed. "I have suspicions regarding several Senators and High Councilors, but no proof. No real evidence either, so I might be wrong."

"Trust your instincts. Give me names; I'll use them to discover where our known enemies might have gone to ground."

"They could be anywhere." Sandev gestured helplessly. "It's a big city and easy for a man – for several men – to hide until they want to emerge again. Even easier for someone like Nicolfer."

Grayar gave a tight smile. "I've set a scout to hunt for Nicolfer and report when he finds her. Belaika knows what sorcery feels like when he senses it."

Sandev's eyebrows lifted. "Is that wise? If she captures him... I do not doubt his courage, but he is only a sylph."

Grayar snorted. "Sylphs must hate hearing those words. Despite what most of us think, they are not fine clay, ready to shatter at the first sign of trouble. These scouts are tough and resourceful. Or do you prefer to wait before we find her hiding place? When Hingast hammers down the gates perhaps? Indecision costs lives."

"We must assume Dervra and Nicolfer know we're here." Sandev shrugged. "Everybody knows an ilven is in the palace, so Nicolfer will realize who brought her."

Grayar blinked and nodded. "She knows there are no ilven on this continent. The ilvenstone remains on my side of the ocean, so how can an ilven get here? Add the sudden appearance of Djerana to the struggle for a new Emperor and it is not difficult to reason that I've popped over to lend a hand." He gave a quick grin. "After all, everybody knows I love struggles. Wouldn't miss it for the world. We must wait until they make their first move. Again." He sighed. "Which they might have done already."

Sandev gave a tight smile. "We are fortunate in the quality of the soldiers presently in the city and, as important, with the quality of the men commanding them."

"We'll have need of them soon," agreed Grayar. "Unfortunately."

***

Marcus lay awake in bed, Zandra deeply asleep beside him. He listened to the early birds singing outside and hoped today might be a little cooler than yesterday. He wondered what had woken him.

He sat up as he heard the outer door to his rooms slam against the wall and the light mutter of sylph voices. He pulled on his shirt, slipped quietly out of bed and stepped into his breeches.

Marcus left the bedchamber and immediately spotted Belaika, looking agitated.

Jenn's tousled head poked from her blankets and she looked at her owner. "You should take this one in hand, _enya_ ; he keeps on scaring me in the middle of the night."

"What is it, Belaika?" asked Marcus.

" _Enya_ , Mikhan- _ya_ sends his compliments and wishes to inform you that Hingast is advancing on the North Gate."

"Now?" Marcus raised his eyebrows. "Is Zenepha aware?"

Belaika shrugged.

"Go and inform him, Icca. Try not to slam his door like you do mine."

" _Se bata_."

The sound of Belaika's leathery feet slapping against the cool marble floor faded as he ran up the stairs.

"You may as well go back to sleep," said Marcus.

Jenn grumbled as she pulled her blankets back around herself. "Belaika is too boisterous, _enya_."

Marcus chuckled and gently touched Jenn's shoulder. "Look after Zandra for me when she wakes."

The small sylph smiled at her owner. " _Se bata_."

Leaving his apartment, Marcus waited at the bottom of the stair leading to the Emperor's quarters. A messenger boy dashed past first, quickly out of sight. Led by a still-excited Belaika, Zenepha eventually appeared. The civilian sylph's eyes were wide and his earpoints lay back in his hair, but he successfully hid his fear when he saw Marcus.

The human smiled to himself. This sylph possessed courage, a virtue many believed rare in his race. Of course, such people often wrongly confused non-violence with cowardice. Marcus knew different, thanks to the faithful service given by the scouts.

"I have sent for a carriage," said Zenepha, eyeing Marcus's sword warily. That the sylph had courage did not mean he approved of violence.

"Good."

Emperor and claimant hurried down the stairs together, with Belaika only two steps ahead of them, ignoring the usual rule of walking behind superiors. As they left the palace, a hastily readied carriage halted before them, the two horses clearly unimpressed at having to work earlier than normal. Guard Commander Mansard sat beside the driver.

"North Gate, Majesty?" called the purple-cloaked soldier, eyes gleaming in the gathering light.

The day's heat also strengthened. So much for Marcus's hope.

"You get in there with Zenepha," said Marcus, "I'll sit up top."

Mansard obeyed, following the Emperor into the carriage, while Marcus clambered into Mansard's place beside the driver. Belaika wriggled in to sit between them.

The driver gave the sylph – who appeared to the uninitiated to be dirty – a shocked look that he dared sit beside him, but when Marcus gave no reaction to the sylph's presence, he subsided with only a single disapproving glance. Anything might happen in these days when a sylph took the Throne. The driver thought that perhaps next he would be able to hold a conversation with his horses.

Marcus turned to the driver. "Are we moving this morning?" he demanded. "At this rate, the siege will be over."

The driver looked forward again and growled something under his breath that Marcus hoped Belaika failed to understand.

Leaving the palace grounds, Marcus saw that the city already hummed with military activity. War machines trundled up the road towards the North Gate, horses and men straining to move the large mangonels into range.

Waved on by soldiers, the carriage halted just before the gate. Fighting had already begun: shouts and screams pierced the morning air as arrows were fired and the few war machines already in position hurled deadly cargoes at the enemy. Rocks and green fire were landing in the city, which meant that Hingast had moved his war machines into range.

Marcus and Belaika scrambled down. Mansard climbed out of the carriage first, straightened his cloak and turned to help Zenepha out. Bascon materialized from a dark shadow to stand beside his owner.

Marcus smiled to himself as Mansard touched his sylph's shoulder, before Bascon melted away again, returning to his duties.

"It's unwise for Your Majesty to be here," warned the purple-cloaked soldier. "Djerana is sensible, she stayed at the palace."

Zenepha sniffed in disagreement. "I want to see," he replied, after a pause. "Djerana did not wake, or she would be here as well."

Marcus and Zenepha mounted the stone steps to the walls together, and soldiers, many already weary from intense labor and the strain of battle, turned to stare. Marcus felt Belaika tense, aware something was happening with the men. He didn't see or hear who started it, but a ragged cheer came from them. It spread, even if many had no idea who or what they were cheering. As these were mostly his soldiers, the claimant blinked in surprise when he understood what the men shouted.

"Zen-ep-ha! Zen-ep-ha! Zen-ep-ha!"

Zenepha's earpoints waggled in excitement and pleasure. His silver eyes, still glowing in the fading dark, were wide again and he looked at Marcus.

The Vintner shook his head and indicated that the Emperor should lead the way onto the walls, simultaneously encouraging his men to continue chanting and cheering. Men pounded their breastplates in salute and hard faces were suddenly smiles.

"Why do they cheer me?"

Marcus leaned forward to keep his words private. "Because you have come. Because they think you care."

"I _do_ care."

Marshal Mikhan joined them at the viewing platform, when it became clear that the attack had finished. Nothing to see, except a handful of enemy corpses dotting the ground beneath the walls.

"Where is General Ranallic?" asked Marcus, quietly.

"South Gate," replied Mikhan. He sniffed. "Told you Hingast wouldn't just sit it out."

Beside Marcus, Belaika stiffened.

" _Donenulya_ ," he began, "another assault at the South Gate."

Mikhan nodded grimly. "The reason why Ranallic's down that end. Not entirely unexpected, Majesty; I believe Hingast is testing our defenses." He saw the carriage below. "Soldier! Requisition that!"

As Mikhan bounded off, Marcus and Zenepha turned to stare beyond the walls again.

"So sad to see them," said Zenepha, quietly.

"Who?" asked Marcus.

"The dead ones."

"Better them than us," replied Marcus.

"They have still had their lives stolen from them," retorted Zenepha. "That they are enemies makes me feel no better. There _must_ be another way!"

Marcus gave the Emperor an understanding look. "Perhaps there is. But as long as some people believe they can cheat their way to success, we are yet to find one. The way of the world, I am afraid. Probably of every world."

Zenepha sniffed. "If we are going to the South Gate, we had better make a start. In case you have not noticed, Marka's Marshal has stolen our transport."

As they left the walls, Bascon rejoined them, smiling at his owner. For his part, Mansard ruffled his sylph's hair and patted his shoulder.

"No chance, Belaika," said Marcus, aware of his sylph's gaze, wondering if he might receive the same treatment.

The sylph pouted.

"It's for the rude awakening," explained Marcus. "You annoyed Jenn."

Sulking, Belaika dropped onto his heels as they waited for another carriage.

"Back to the palace, Majesty?" asked Mansard cheerfully, as the new carriage rumbled to a halt before them. He gave Bascon a final pat.

"South Gate, Guard Commander," replied Zenepha, forcefully.

This time, Mansard stayed on top with Belaika and the driver, this one more tolerant of the sylph's presence, while Marcus rode inside with Zenepha.

"How long before the firepowder is ready?" asked the Emperor, making conversation.

"I hope soon," replied Marcus. "We could certainly use it."

They had little time to talk; they arrived at the South Gate in minutes.

Here, the battle still raged and Zenepha had to be sheltered as he made his way up the stone steps. Mansard and Marcus stood with the sylph on the command platform, where even Belaika showed nervousness as he stared around, his earpoints slightly wilted. Zenepha, however, stood proudly, earpoints determinedly erect, as if nothing untoward happened anywhere near him.

Marshal Mikhan bent his head to the sylph. He whispered to him and asked him to point in a certain direction, or say something. Every time Zenepha obeyed, Mikhan issued an order. To the casual observer, it looked like the Emperor directed the battle.

Marcus gave the marshal's back a cold stare.

A scrambling ladder made contact with the walls and men swarmed up it, hoping to reach the top before it could be pushed away. The defenders had wooden poles ready and pushed the ladder away as the first man reached the top, where an archer fired at point blank range. The arrowhead protruded from the man's back, his eyes wide with surprise as the ladder came away from the walls, falling in a slow arc. Marcus dragged his gaze away; only those on the lower rungs would escape serious injury or worse.

A horn sounded somewhere beyond the milling enemy soldiers and they pulled away, jeered by the defenders. The city was safe for the moment. A cheer went up and, as the Emperor turned to leave, men shouted his name.

"Zen-ep-ha! Zen-ep-ha! Zen-ep-ha!"

"You have led us to victory!" shouted an anonymous voice and this chant followed the cheers. For the first time, Zenepha looked flabbergasted, turning away from the light of hero worship shining in even the sylph scouts' eyes.

Marcus grimaced. He knew what Mikhan was trying to do.

"I did nothing!" Zenepha shouted to Marcus, hoping the soldiers wouldn't hear him.

Marcus Vintner forced a smile. "It'll do you no harm for them to believe you did," he replied, carefully. "Marshal Mikhan is helping enhance your reputation." His voice held a hint of anger and jealousy.

He knew it would help Zenepha politically and militarily if the army supported him. He continued. "And making it harder for your political opponents to move too strongly." He pursed his lips and fell silent, considering.

Zenepha nodded in understanding.

***

"Even better, the people thronged the streets to cheer him."

Djerana folded her long legs beneath her and accepted the cup of water from Caya with a smile and nod. She stared at it suspiciously before giving the drink a cautious sniff.

Caya looked affronted.

"It's quite safe," Sandev assured the ilven. "My water is boiled and filtered." She turned back to Grayar. "Having the people cheer Zenepha does not benefit Marcus Vintner."

Grayar shrugged. "Perhaps it is time for the Emperor to be a sylph. I must admit it is an interesting idea."

"But not what I Saw," protested Sandev. "There will be a Vintner on the Throne of Marka and that Vintner is Marcus."

"With his father still alive? Hmm. The old man might have twenty or thirty years left in him yet. Unfortunately for you, Marcus Senior is stuck outside the city, so he can't renounce his claim in favor of his son."

Djerana interrupted, much to Caya's surprise. Salu, more used to ilven ways, sipped unperturbed at her water. "Emperor Zenepha is good for Marka. And if he is pushed aside, won't his descendants have a legitimate claim?"

Sandev gave the ilven a small smile. "Zenepha cannot have children," she countered. "When I realized we might need a sylph to surprise the Supreme Council, I chose carefully."

Djerana looked unimpressed. "You stole his right to children?"

"We stole nothing," retorted Sandev. "He couldn't have children long before I selected him. Strict population control is a necessity where he comes from."

The ilven showed her displeasure with a sniff. Expecting an explosion, Caya flinched.

It never came.

"Far safer for Zenepha this way." Grayar hurried to fill the silence before one of the sylphs asked an awkward question. "Sooner rather than later, his line would produce a weak sylph – a normal sylph, dammit! – and the Throne would collapse again. Zenepha is an exceptional sylph for exceptional times, but there probably won't be another like him for decades."

Djerana thought this problem also affected human hereditary rule, but said nothing. She had known Grayar for most of her thirty-five summers and knew he would soon launch into a little lecture. With his next breath, Grayar made the ilven grateful she had saved hers.

"You think humans share this weakness and, up to a point, I agree. A weak human can surround himself with strong men and a strong human can wrest power from those who should advise and not rule him. Even the strongest sylph could not do the same. Humans look for strength in other humans, but look only for weakness in sylphs. Humans would use the slightest excuse to pull a sylph Emperor down, but a series of disasters must befall the weakest of human rulers before the same happens to him. Politicians have put Zenepha on the Throne, though the more popular he becomes, the harder it will be to remove him again."

The ilven tossed her head, shaking her long brunette hair. _Thank you Grayar_ , she reflected.

Sandev interrupted. "Where were you this morning? I thought you were Zenepha's shadow. Carried his cloak, perhaps."

Ilven did not enjoy teasing as much as sylphs and she glared at Sandev before replying. "I had no idea he'd left the palace until too late. By then, nobody knew exactly where I might find him and the palace guards would not let me out. Just in case, they said." Her emerald eyes flashed and the glare returned; ilven detested constraint, no matter how noble the reason.

Grayar laughed, then grew serious again. "No matter what the people on the streets call it, today was no victory. Just a test of our defenses. Hingast may yet attempt another assault, this time stronger, or he may choose to sit it out. Either way, it's far from over."

***

"Janin, it _is_ you!"

The young sylph looked up from his work at the potatoes. His thoughts dwelt on the morning's battle, allowing the full horror to sink in. He had rarely been so frightened as when he saw all those men run screaming and yelling towards the walls. Arrows and spears, backed up by catapults and mangonels had added to the terror.

Most sylphs had stood firm, but a few of the Markan scouts had fled. The humans and experienced scouts probably still argued over a suitable punishment for the deserters. He had come here to work after hearing fully trained scouts demand death for the ringleaders. He had volunteered for this work to keep out of the way.

The kitchens were full of human and sylph workers, most preparing food, others cleaning utensils or clearing out fireplaces before laying fresh fires. A couple of skinny human boys washed the tiled floors, while three more washed down the tiled walls.

He stared at the sylph in front of him, her eyes sparkling. Recognition dawned. "Saxin!"

She grinned. In the same gang of beggars, she had looked after him when he was smaller. That all seemed a thousand seasons ago. A different life.

"You belong to the army now?" he asked. He glanced at her silver collar, but saw none of the mysterious squiggles and lines that marked human writing.

"Sort of. Was going to a farm, but now I cannot leave the city. So I work here instead. You?"

"Learning to be a scout." Janin grinned. "Do they know it is foolish to leave you near food?"

Saxin giggled, then looked concerned. "Were you involved in the fight?"

Janin nodded. "At the South Gate." He did not add the fighting had been fiercest and bloodiest there. He had seen corpses before, but what he'd witnessed today sickened him. Despite the urge to flee, he had not. His had survived the battle with his honor intact, as one of the professional sylph scouts had put it. "Not nice."

Saxin looked sympathetic. "I hear some ran away."

Janin grimaced at the reminder.

The partly trained scouts who stood firm had earned the respect of their more experienced colleagues. His thoughts returned to those who had disgraced themselves. At the very least, they would be cast out of the scout corps and suffer the further indignity of cut rations when returned to their owners.

He knew their selfish actions might have caused a general panic, but he felt some pity for them. No sylph should be expected to put up with war.

However, discipline kept soldiers and scouts alive in battle.

"Not me," he said.

One of the human cooks plumped down beside the sylphs.

"You may go whenever you wish," the man said to Janin. "You're not under punishment." He turned to Saxin and pointed a finger. "But you are here to work."

The infertile grinned and returned to her task, though she kept glancing back at her friend.

Janin shrugged. "I'd rather be here," he replied.

"Well, there are enough potatoes peeled," continued the cook, unabashed. "I've got a few ready, if you fancy a quick bite."

Janin's eyes lit as his beggar instincts leapt to life: never turn down free food. Especially with Saxin near. Then he remembered. "Thank you _donenya_ , but it is wrong for me to take rations meant for another."

The cook laughed and gently thumped the sylph on the back. "You are a good sylph. Sandev is your owner, yes?"

Janin nodded, aware that not only Saxin had stopped work to stare at him. One of the kitchen assistants now gave him a considering look. It might mean nothing, but the sylph carefully noted the woman's face, just in case.

"Don't know him," continued the cook, beaming jovially. "But he's a very lucky man to have a grafter like you."

"Woman," corrected Janin, grinning. "He is a she."

The cook laughed again. "Come on lad, you look hungry. Let's get you fed, you've earned it." The man's eyes almost disappeared as he smiled.

"Is that all right?" The sylph still sounded unsure.

"Put it this way," continued the cook. "The evening meal for the sylph scouts is finished. You missed it, so you can either eat with us, or go without. Myself, I hate to see anyone go hungry who works for me voluntarily. You've earned your keep, lad. And I'm sure you'd like to chat with your friend some more."

Janin nodded and smiled. He just wished that the kitchen assistant who had overheard his owner's name would stop staring at him.

***
**Chapter 19**

Hejiller

Cloudy entered the passengers' cabin and smiled shyly at its occupants. Tahena smiled brightly back and Kelanus nodded. Despite the good wind, heat haze danced everywhere, but the cabin stayed cool thanks to drapes set against most of the windows. Stayed relatively cool, anyway. Water ran down the windows as half the crew kept the deck above wet, preventing the merciless sun from drying and distorting the planks.

The ship was days from Hejiller, ahead of schedule and in no hurry, though Cloudy warned a calm lay ahead. Emplar tea chests filled the holds, to be sold in Hejiller. The bacca they bought there would pay for the entire voyage when sold in Cadister.

"May I come through?" asked the ship's sylph, in her soft voice.

"Of course." Tahena smiled again. "He wants your company."

The sylph nodded her thanks and climbed onto the sternwalk. Wrapped in misery, Neptarik sat with his legs dangling above the ship's wake and his head resting against the middle bar of the safety rail.

After leaving Beshar, Kelanus and Tahena dared not leave the sylph alone for days, fearing he might throw himself into the sea. Thankfully, that dreadful prospect grew less likely as time passed. If he planned suicide, it would have happened by now. In a rare fit of temper, the sylph told his companions that suicide was unlikely while his mother lived.

As Cloudy stepped onto the walkway, the scout turned his head and gave her a small smile, earpoints twitching up before sagging again.

"Morning," he said, voice flat.

" _Ilpewa_ ," she replied, making the most of the opportunity to practice her native tongue.

At least she always got a greeting, together with that smile and twitch from his earpoints. Not even Kelanus or Tahena got more. Neptarik blamed nobody other than Sallis ti Ath for his owner's death, but he could not shake off his depression.

Not that Cloudy believed Balnus died in Beshar.

"Tell me again," begged Neptarik. "What the ship said."

Smiling, she plumped down beside him. Tempted to hug him close, she sensed he might resent that. "The ship says your master did not die. She can tell the difference. He has faded from her awareness, because he is no longer on her decks. If you would let me..."

Neptarik glanced warily at the other's raised open hand and his eyes narrowed. From the first she had wanted to touch him again, to prove she told no lies. He had resisted and always refused before now. Looking into her eyes for a long moment, he finally relented.

"All right." He closed his eyes as Cloudy rested her hand on his forehead. He let the ship in.

His eyes opened. This felt very different from his last contact with the ship, as if he entered the ship's world, rather than she his. An emerald-eyed creature smiled at him, auburn hair tumbling halfway down her back. That hair framed a delicate face with a pretty button nose, yet those eyes exuded determination. She knew her own mind. And knew what was best for him.

"Alvanya." _He had always wanted to meet an ilven and here one stood before him. He inclined his head in respect._

She smiled. "Not yet, Neptarik. But this is how I see myself."

"You are beautiful," he complimented her. He felt awe, but supposed he would if an ilven confronted him anyway. So this was the ship's dream.

"I see how you charm my sylph." The ship's smile broadened. "I dread what will happen when you leave my decks. She – we – will miss you."

Neptarik stared. "She has feelings like that? But she is an infertile!"

Irritation flared in those emerald eyes and the ship stamped a foot. "So that means she's not allowed emotions? I know sylphs are boneheads where your infertiles are concerned, but I thought you were more tolerant than that."

"Sorry, sorry." He immediately gave way. He had no wish to anger the ship, or more particularly the life elemental that inhabited Cloudy. Especially as some form of that elemental stood in front of him.

"Come here."

He obeyed, somehow aware that the other could force him to do nothing. He suspected he could break away from this contact if he wanted. Part of him did want to; he neither understood what happened here nor how it could be possible. He should be frightened by this experience, but he felt no emotion other than calm. The ilven that the ship would become stared at him. Her hand touched his forehead.

_He grew aware of_ being _the ship. Of every living creature aboard, more aware than ever before in his life. Cloudy had to put up with this all the time!_

"I have lost three members of my company in my years as this vessel," said the ship. "One fell from my rigging and I knew he was gone in moments. Another got stabbed in a brawl ashore and I knew immediately he was dead. The third died after two days ill ashore and, though my awareness of him began to fade the moment he left my decks, I still knew the precise moment of his death."

As the ship spoke, she shared her feelings with him. Neptarik felt the sudden severance of the first two, and a gradual fading to an abrupt end of the third.

The ship continued. "It took five days for my awareness of Balnus to fade. I offer no assurance concerning his welfare since, but he lived at least until then. Sallis ti Ath did not kill him."

Neptarik felt nothing more than a gentle fading as she spoke of his owner. It was as she told him. When the ship stood back, he blinked and drew in a ragged breath. He would be crying next!

"Now do you believe me?" asked the ship.

"I want to believe you," he replied. "You have helped me feel better, but I want my owner back before I can be really certain."

"I understand your pain. I feel your pain."

"How?" The sylph stared. "I mean no offense, but you are not really... alive."

_Those beautiful eyes narrowed. "I have been eight ships and inhabited seventeen sylphs. Cloudy is my eighteenth, and I hope my last. The sense of loss after the death of each is the nearest I come to physical pain. But it is still not easy. What you feel is a sense of loss; a life elemental senses loss, the same as any other living creature. I still miss every one of those sylphs." She scowled at him. "And I_ am _alive."_

"Of course you are." He did not know why he did it, but he hugged the small ilven before him.

She pulled away first, but he sensed her pleased reaction. "Now I really know why my sylph has fallen in love with you."

Neptarik blinked, again aware of the salt sea and the furious sun scorching the deck on which he sat. The heat already felt uncomfortable on his bare legs, despite being tanned. His eyes focused on Cloudy as her hand fell away from his forehead.

"Did you share any of that?" he asked her.

Cloudy shook her head. "She shuts me out when she wants. I could push in, but I respect private moments, as she does with me. What she said is between you and her, I swear."

"The ilven she wants to become is beautiful. She showed me so much just then. More than I thought she ever would."

The other smiled, pleased. "Yes, she will be amazing." She changed the subject. "We will be in a calm tomorrow and the day after. Will you swim with me?" Her gaze bored into him for a moment, before flickering down and away. Her earpoints gave a violent twitch.

Neptarik nodded. "Of course I will."

In his mind, he heard an echo of the ship. _"My sylph has fallen in love with you."_ He hoped the ship would not get jealous.

***

"Not only is he falling further behind, but I don't believe he's even chasing us." Tahena shook her head in amazement. "So unlike him."

Reflections from the sea danced across the deckhead, adding light to the airy cabin. Despite being cooler than the rest of the ship, the cabin still grew uncomfortably warm. The open windows on the shady, undraped side failed to admit anything more than a breath of air.

Kelanus stared at the southlander. "He has given up?"

She snorted. "Sallis ti Ath never gives up. Only thought of another way. You don't escape that easily."

The General stroked his chin and wondered. "The ship believes that Balnus is still alive. Perhaps he is ti Ath's prisoner, or has somehow managed to persuade him that I am not a threat."

"More likely he now knows you intend to return from the south and no longer sees any point chasing you."

"Can he find us like you can find him?"

"No idea. To be honest, I suspect not. His talent is in seeing where those he chases have been."

"A bit of a gamble."

Tahena smiled. "Sometimes a gamble must be taken. Given your profession, I'm sure you already know that."

Kelanus suddenly changed the subject. "Looking forward to getting home?"

"It is so long since I was there, it's hardly home." Tahena's smile became wistful, with a hint of regret about something forever gone. "We have missed the spring blossoms, which is a pity for they are so beautiful. My parents' house has twenty blossom trees; I loved to play beneath them as a child."

"My childhood home is a much colder place," chuckled Kelanus. "We had eight fruit trees, sheltered from the Aboras by the nearest forest. Snow lay on the ground six months of the year and there were patches all year round where the sun didn't reach. In midwinter the only daylight came an hour or two either side of noon, or from the sky lights."

"Aboras?"

"The north wind. Blows off the icelands and brings winter. There are only two seasons in Frodger: cold and freezing."

Tahena laughed. "Breed tough people where you come from."

"Not so soft yourself."

"I've changed my mind about going home, Kelanus. I want to see this through. With you."

His pale blue eyes locked onto hers for a moment. So that was the way the land lay. He smiled. "I'll need all the help I can get when we return to Marka. And it might still end in my execution."

"Don't say that!" Her voice was unintentionally sharp, but she made no move to moderate it. "Never say that. We will return with the evidence we need. Sandev would never have sent us here unless there is something we can use."

"Doesn't it bother you that I seek evidence against one of your countrymen?"

Tahena considered the question. "In Verdin Vintner's army there is a whole section of southlander mercenary troops."

"Good fighters."

"Of course. But have you noticed they don't like Ranallic? You don't like Ranallic; Mikhan doesn't like Ranallic. It's the man who is disliked, not where he is from. There is something about General Ranallic that breeds distrust and dislike."

"Such as besmirching the names of innocent men."

"That has always happened in politics." Tahena smiled. "This is different. There's something about Ranallic that puts people's hackles up, something they somehow sense about him that worries them."

"Well, with Siranva's help and a little luck, we shall soon discover the truth." Kelanus's smile was not altogether pleasant. "Soon."

Tahena looked concerned for the first time. She hoped that the man before her did not surrender to hate and allow it to consume him. It might be too late to worry about that now.

***

Neptarik finally left the cabin for the upper deck. Tanned a darker blue thanks to his time sat on the walkway, he had not left the confines of the passengers' cabin and walkway since losing his owner. Not even in the Imperial Republic or Emplar. Not that he wanted to set foot ashore in the Imperial Republic. Even Cloudy said sylphs were not very well treated there.

He received pleasantries and warm smiles. The card players among the crew looked pleased to see him. Cloudy flashed her lopsided grin and waved from her place at the wheel. Tefric nodded, then returned his attention to the compass card where he repaired something in the binnacle. Neptarik found a quiet corner on the quarterdeck and settled on the planking to watch everything.

He admired Cloudy at the wheel, holding the ship steady on her course, attention split between the sails and what lay ahead. There were lookouts of course: one at the masthead, one in the eyes of the ship and one staring over the ship's rule-straight wake. Remembering his own clumsy efforts at the wheel, Neptarik felt a twinge of envy for this sylph, so clearly a sailor. Perhaps she might not make a good scout; he could take consolation from that. This was her element, but he suspected she might struggle to compete with him ashore.

"Excuse please, Neptarik."

The sylph scrambled to his feet and bowed his head to the man who approached with a bucket of salt water and a broom. He had forgotten that the strong sun meant that the decks must be kept wet. He was in the way.

"Apologies." He moved away to let the sailor do his job. He leaned against the bulwark on the opposite side of the ship, ready to move if needed.

Fourth Mate Naltor had the watch. The relatively inexperienced young officer probably shared his watch with the Sailing Master so the latter could keep his eye on him. Neptarik doubted the need; the weather looked as though it would spring no surprises.

The scout stared at the sea, where the waves seemed slightly more subdued than he recalled. The fresh wind still ruffled his lengthening hair. His attention returned to Cloudy.

"You sure it will be calm tomorrow?" he called.

Cloudy didn't even look around. "Look at the sea," she replied. "The wind drops already, if slowly."

"We might even have to out oars," chuckled Tefric, having finished fiddling about with the compass card.

"Do not even think about it." A warning note crept into the sylph's voice. "I want my swim and so do most of the crew." She sniffed. "We have plenty of time before the High Festival." She made minor adjustments with the wheel even as she spoke, instinctively meeting each yaw of the ship's head. The movement seemed almost absentminded, as if she had no need to think about her steering.

"High Festival?" echoed Neptarik.

"The real beginning of summer in Hejiller," replied the other sylph. "I will not say too much or I will spoil it for you. But it is fun."

"Except for those who must stay aboard," added Tefric.

"You do insist." Cloudy laughed. "And the others who stay are volunteers."

"Married men who cannot trust themselves when surrounded by intoxicated, willing women," Tefric pointed out.

"Intoxicated?" Already Neptarik liked the sound of the High Festival. "Ale? Beer?"

"They call it Crozo," explained the Sailing Master. "Bad for sylphs."

Cloudy giggled.

The male sylph managed a smile. He hoped Kelanus allowed them to stay in Hejiller long enough to enjoy this festival. "Sounds the very stuff for sylphs," he retorted.

Tefric laughed, returning to his work.

***

As predicted, the next morning brought a flat calm. The sails hung listlessly, swinging with the ship's motion. They creased and snapped, booming like thunder, as the ship rolled in the gentle swell. Clad only in short breeches, Neptarik looked about and saw most of the crew wore less than usual. All ready for their swim. Raldtu and Naltor were at the masthead, looking carefully for ruffles on the sea, or any hint of wind. The ship's sylph grinned smugly when they reported no signs, but she said nothing.

"We must check," Tefric explained to Neptarik. "It's rare for the ship to be wrong, but her sylph is sometimes willful. If she's decided she wants a swim, then she wants a swim. A pity she's not so eager to get wet when soap is added to the equation." He sighed and nodded to Captain Liffen.

"All right." Liffen, also dressed for swimming, addressed the crew. "Hands to bathe."

With delighted yells, men poured across the bulwark, jumping or diving into the sea, the more timid clambering down the nets slung over the side of the ship. Neptarik watched them, until Cloudy prodded him.

"Well?" she demanded.

They jumped from the bulwark, barely making a splash as they entered the water. Cloudy swam around the male sylph, surface diving before immediately reappearing.

The water was so warm, Neptarik could barely believe it had not been heated over a fire first.

"Can you hold your breath?" asked Cloudy.

"Of course," he replied.

"Want to swim under the ship?"

"All right."

"Follow me."

Eyes open, he dived after the ship's sylph. Sunlight dappled down here, the swell breaking light into shafts that twinkled and contorted like flames. Blue turned to black below and only silver light showed the way back to air. Except where the ship, hulking on the surface, blocked out the sun.

Cloudy kicked her legs and moved away slowly, heading beneath the ship. When the hull was directly above, where the water felt cooler, the ship's sylph turned to face him and allowed herself to float up, until her head rested against the ship's keel. Neptarik followed, amazed at the cleanliness of the ship's bottom, before he remembered she had only just come out of refit.

She smiled at the scout and held out her hands to him. He clasped her hands and she moved forward, hugging him, rubbing her nose and earpoints against his. As he broke away, eyes wary, she grinned and poked out her tongue, an endearingly impish gesture. He grinned back before moving closer and took her head in his hands. It was her turn to break away and she pointed up, between the keel and bilge keel. It looked nice and private there, well away from anyone else who might like diving...

***

"They've been under some time," said Tahena.

The Sailing Master shrugged. "Sylphs can hold their breath a lot longer than us. They'll be fine."

Tefric was not swimming because he still hoped for wind. Those on watch weren't swimming either, but probably hoped they would get time when the watch changed. Tahena wasn't swimming because she feared deep water and knew the sea bottom lay milas beneath the ship.

Despite Tefric's words, she worried that the two sylphs had been out of sight for some time and kept crossing the deck, to see if they had resurfaced. She saw nothing of them: no silvery gray hair, no blue skinned limbs...

She watched Kelanus swim around the ship, and asked after the sylphs.

"Nothing," he called back, from the water.

Both sylphs shot up from the depths, Cloudy breaking surface first. She wore fear like a mask as she scrambled out of the water, yelling for Tefric.

"Call them back!" she shouted. "Call them back!"

"What's wrong?" asked Tahena, but Tefric ignored her as he lifted a speaking trumpet to his lips.

"Everyone back aboard!" he shouted, the trumpet magnifying his words. "Back aboard!"

"Get some raw meat!" Cloudy touched the nearest man. "Hurry!" She turned, still frightened, watching the furthest man out, her small hands balling into fists as she urged him on in her mind.

"What's wrong?" demanded Tahena.

The scout shrugged. He wondered why Cloudy had so suddenly broken away. One moment they were together like old friends, the next she flashed out of sight like a demon chased her. For a moment he had feared he might be to blame.

"Where is that meat?" shrieked Cloudy. "Come on Kylas, come on!"

Men streamed out of the sea and scrambled easily up the nets onto the deck. The quicker ones turned to help those behind. The men furthest away increased their pace, perhaps aware of what was wrong.

Cloudy snatched the lump of meat from Kylas as he returned and hefted it, waiting. The last men neared the net now, so the sylph flung the meat as far as she could. Everyone gasped as it disappeared in a swirl of water.

Neptarik glimpsed a fin, one cold eye and rows of terrible teeth. The last two men scrambled up the net, safe.

Kelanus, dripping water onto the deck, turned to the sylph. "How did you know? What was _that_?"

Cloudy managed a grin and some color returned to her face. "That was a shark. A hungry one. The ship senses them when they come near. Sometimes they are close and come to investigate, but they are usually far away. At least everyone is safe." She sniffed. "Someone may have a cut. Blood in the water draws them."

"Now we know it is too dangerous for swimming," Tefric remarked with a grin, "perhaps we should out oars."

"No," insisted Cloudy. "If we are becalmed further south, we risk getting dragged into The Race."

"Race?" echoed Neptarik. "Are there prizes?"

Ship sylph and Sailing Master humored him with a smile.

"The Race," said Cloudy, emphasizing the words, "is where the tide rips between the two continents. Ships trapped in that never return."

Neptarik's eyes widened. "They sink?"

"Sometimes wrecked, sometimes sink; but none return. The Race is too strong and too fast to sail against."

"Don't let her frighten you," interrupted Tefric. "We are way too far north to get trapped in The Race. Oars sound good to me."

The ship's sylph scowled. "We are days ahead of schedule and the crew deserves a rest," she retorted. "Today we shall have dancing and merry making. And there is still work to do on my costume."

"Costume?" echoed Neptarik.

The other sylph grinned. "A secret," she said, mysteriously. "Everyone will see it in good time." With that, she went below.

"Everyone has seen it," muttered Tefric. "Bits of it anyway."

"What do you mean?" Tahena and Neptarik looked at the Sailing Master.

"She thinks I haven't noticed some of the signal flags have had certain colors cut out of them. And one of the spare masthead streamers has disappeared."

Tahena smiled. "You let her cut up signal flags for a costume?"

"Oh, she didn't ask. We won't need 'em again until we're back up north, and she'll have repaired the flags by then."

Tahena rounded on Neptarik. "What were you two doing down there?" she demanded. "You can't chat underwater."

The sylph grinned. "We were not chatting."

At her side, Kelanus chuckled. "When we return to Marka, I promise you that I'll try and find a wife for him."

The southern woman shook her head in disbelief. "I didn't know they went for infertiles," she muttered. "You _must_ get him married."

The sylph scowled and tapped the name badge on his collar. His fingers ran gently across the engraving there. "Nep-ta-rik- _y_ -Bal-nus," he enunciated slowly. "No Ta-he-na and no Ke-lan-us."

Tahena stared at his back as he retreated below to get dressed.

"It probably depends on the infertile," said Kelanus. "And the feelings of the sylph concerned. At least we know he's getting better."

***

Watched by Tahena, Kelanus scowled at the small portraits of Ranallic. His bags were already packed and he sat on the deck in the cabin. Land had been sighted the evening before and shouts drifted from the upper deck as the pilot came aboard for the final stage into Hejiller itself. Neptarik was somewhere above shadowing Cloudy, a habit he had developed since whatever the ship told him had snapped him out of his depression. Or perhaps he enjoyed another spectacular southern sunrise, before the day grew too hot and smothered everything in haze.

"I wonder if anyone will recognize him," he mused aloud, gaze locked on the portraits.

"Who?"

"Ranallic. He must have changed since leaving Hejiller. Older for one thing. Perhaps he still has friends or family here."

"People might recognize the name. And this mysterious ship's sylph without a ship is supposed to be able to help us."

"Ah yes, her. If it is a her, you never know in foreign parts." He smiled. "Sandev speaks in riddles; seems to be a failing of everyone with Siranva's Gift."

"It only means a ship's sylph has outlived the wooden part of the ship." Her dark, slanted eyes flashed with irritation. "There are bound to be a few dotted about. And ship sylphs are as likely to be shes here as further north. Cloudy would have said if things were _that_ different."

"Do we ask all of them?" Kelanus sighed. "I wish Sandev had been a little more specific in her instructions."

"She might not have known any more than she passed on." Tahena quickly defended her former tutor. "It can't be easy seeing many outcomes and not knowing which information is good until something else happens to make the path ahead clearer."

He laughed. "You make nothing clearer," he rumbled.

"Sandev does nothing without reason. If she thought you needed to know a thing, she would have told you. The problem with Seeing is that there are so many different things that can affect a potential future. She has either Seen the most probable outcome, in which case there is no need to tell you more, or there are several possible results, when informing you of them all would only create confusion."

Kelanus stared at Tahena. "I understood what you said that time. I think." He pulled a face.

"All I'll say is this: there must be something more to Ranallic than just the obvious. We will discover something about his past here; something to help us prove your innocence." Her eyes flashed.

Kelanus hid a smile of pleasure. "I'm sure you are right. Now, where's that damned sylph?"

"Leave Neptarik be. He's out of the way topside and he'll return when ready."

"So long as he remembers to carry his own bags." Kelanus clapped his hands together. "At last, I think we may be about to really _do_ something."

"Yes," agreed Tahena. "Provided we find someone who remembers one man out of the tens of thousands who live in Hejiller."

Kelanus nodded. "We must find this sylph. How do ship sylphs without a ship pass their time? Do they become beggars? Or are they cared for by the former crew?"

Cloudy spoke from the doorway. "They usually wait until there is another ship to carry their name." As the two passengers turned to face her, she smiled. "Often the Sailing Master's family will take the sylph in, unless a new ship of the same name is built immediately." She sniffed and changed the subject. "I thought you might like to see Hejiller as we approach. We have just brought the pilot aboard."

Kelanus and Tahena exchanged a look.

Tahena responded. "We'd love to come and see," she replied.

_Flying Cloud_ lived up to her name as she scudded toward the twin headlands. The wind came across her port quarter, although the ship's sylph told them that it would fail once they were in the harbor, sheltered by the headlands. The passengers stared at the watchtowers: one atop each headland and another at the base of the cliffs. A fifth stood in the center of the channel. Small boats swarmed around all three lower towers. In his blue uniform, the pilot hovered around the ship's wheel.

"They are ready to draw the boom across the channel." Cloudy informed her guests. She had no duties for the moment.

"Boom?" echoed Kelanus.

The sylph ignored him and waved to a man on the central watchtower, as he put a speaking trumpet to his lips.

"Always the last one, Flying Cloud!" he called across the water.

The sylph waved again and grinned as broadly as she could.

"The upper classes in Hejiller love my tea," she threw over her shoulder. "They always wait for me."

"Got the timing wrong one year, didn't you?" interrupted Tefric, from the wheel. "Shut out, weren't we?"

The ship's sylph scowled. "They learned, when we sold the tea in Gansbet instead."

Tefric laughed and even the pilot raised a smile.

Before the land stole their wind, orders were shouted and men lowered the yards to furl the sails. Others readied the oars. As before, the yards were hoisted again, to keep the decks clear. Neptarik joined Kelanus and Tahena as the harbor opened up. The wind faltered and finally dropped almost to nothing.

The crew went to their places for coming alongside, which meant the Master's Mate and Cloudy took the wheel between them.

"Out oars!" called First Mate Sedaro. "Give way together!"

Astern, small boats began to drag the boom across the harbor entrance.

"There will only be minimum soldiers in the watchtowers tonight," said Cloudy, "which is why they close the harbor. Once that boom is across, nobody comes in and nobody goes out."

"Lots of ships," remarked Kelanus, nodding towards the quays.

"Everyone will be in," explained the ship's sylph. "Some may go out tomorrow or the day after, if they have recovered." She giggled.

"I suppose you know all of them." Tahena nodded towards the forest of masts all but masking the city of Hejiller from view.

"The ships? Some of them. I am introduced to a few more every time we come here." Cloudy concentrated on her steering as the quays were nearer.

The passengers admired Hejiller, buildings gleaming like white hills in the glaring sun.

Kelanus watched the sylph at the wheel for a few moments. "Where can I get horses?" he asked.

She smiled. "I will show you tomorrow morning."

"I'd like to get some tonight."

"Tonight?" The sylph laughed and shook her head. "No chance."

***

The wide main street of Hejiller was a continuous crescendo of noise, color and smell. Group after group after group of musicians passed, all with drums, cymbals, flutes and trumpets. The beat thrummed inside everyone's chest until it seemed that all hearts must beat as one. Costumes dazzled; some wore very little, but what they did wear bristled brightly with color. Everyone danced: people and sylphs twirled with their arms in the air and shouted with glee. Despite the late hour, children thronged the crowd, for nobody went to bed during High Festival.

Kelanus and Tahena danced together, the southern woman remembering past festivals from her childhood. They saw familiar faces from the _Flying Cloud_ 's crew, but had long since lost contact with the ship's sylph and Neptarik, the pair having disappeared quite early on in a clutch of other ship sylphs. Tahena gritted her teeth when she realized that the other ship sylphs were more than just interested in Neptarik. They hadn't seen him for hours now.

"Never known anything like this Crozo," Kelanus shouted to Tahena. "Really adds to the atmosphere."

Tahena nodded. She had drunk more than her fair share of the stuff and was decidedly tipsy. Crozo and festivals were intended for each other. Rare to find trouble at Festivals and if it happened at all, usually came from outlanders. _Flying Cloud_ 's crew would no doubt be as well behaved here as in the other ports they had visited. Portmaster Repp had recommended a good ship and crew to them.

As a particularly loud band passed, Tahena shivered and wondered why tingles ran through her body. It had nothing to do with alcohol or good music. Her inner senses were speaking.

She looked around, but nothing seemed out of place, with colorful people dancing and merrymaking with the band. A handful of rather plainly dressed sylphs, who giggled and shouted happily, ran past. One infertile from the group hung back, glanced briefly at Tahena and stared at Kelanus.

Did those silvery gray eyes hold fear? Tahena blinked as she saw only one earpoint worked properly; the one on the right looked to be permanently sagged. The sylph disappeared into the crowd, chasing after her companions. Tahena wondered what had happened and felt sorry for the anonymous infertile. Her attention returned to Kelanus, but images of the sylph with the damaged earpoint kept intruding.

"There are our two." Kelanus nodded to the side of the road, where Neptarik drank from a jar of Crozo. Cloudy leaned against him, waiting expectantly for her turn with the jar. The ship's sylph looked especially bright this night, wearing red, gold and orange cloth streamers over gold leggings and shirt. Made at least in part from missing streamers and bunting.

"Looks like they're enjoying themselves." Tahena was amused. Or perhaps relieved the two sylphs hadn't just disappeared.

Kelanus snorted with laughter. "At least we know where they are."

Tahena looked more closely at the two sylphs, particularly the way Cloudy touched her companion and how he responded. She could no longer doubt that they cared for each other and she sniffed. Neptarik might find himself in trouble with the Sailing Master, who was very protective of the ship's sylph.

The two sylphs looked up and Neptarik waved. Moments later, Kelanus and Tahena had joined them.

"Where are the others you ran off with?" asked Kelanus.

"We got separated," replied Cloudy, which did not fully explain the deep blue flush flooding her cheeks.

"We had things to talk about," added Neptarik, before his mouth clamped shut in typical sylph fashion.

"I bet you did." Tahena focused her attention on the male sylph. "Watch your step, or Tefric will want your hide."

Neptarik tossed his head and Cloudy's blush deepened. "Despite what you think, we have not been too forward with each other." The scout seemed affronted.

Tahena sniffed. "You've never turned a female down before," she retorted. "I'm surprised you've gone for an infer –"

"Tefric will leave him alone," interrupted Cloudy. "It is the ship who is really interested in knowing Neppy that way. We have not gone further than a kiss." The ship's sylph gave a broad lopsided smile, whether to placate Tahena or at a fond memory was unclear.

"Neppy?" A smile twitched the corners of Kelanus's mouth.

It was Neptarik's turn to blush.

"Well, enjoy yourselves," continued Kelanus, before dragging Tahena away.

"They're not lovers." Tahena seemed genuinely surprised. "I thought with him being cooped up on the ship for so long..."

"Let them enjoy their moment of happiness." Kelanus's pale blue eyes twinkled down at Tahena. "Talking of lovers, there are plenty of quiet corners."

"Yes, there are. Oh!" She giggled. "Is that a hint?"

Smiling, Kelanus swept her along the street and away.

***

Neptarik inspected the fruit on his plate for a few moments. Never before had he seen food like this: skins of bright yellow and red and green... Juice already leaked where a careless knife had sliced or stabbed. It smelled tasty enough and was certainly fit for breakfast. He ate hungrily, with little trace of table manners. He paused only to wipe dribbles from his chin.

"You were late last night," remarked Tahena. "What time did you and the ship's sylph return?"

"I came back with Mate Staffin," replied the sylph. "I do not even know if Cloudy is back."

Kelanus and Tahena exchanged a glance. "She wasn't aboard when we returned."

"Sent on ahead, eh?" Kelanus grinned. "Hope you haven't upset her."

"No. She wanted a word with one of the other ship sylphs. A private matter, she said."

"Good job you can handle rejection." Tahena gave the sylph a neutral look.

Neptarik shrugged.

"I'd like a word with you about your ability to read."

"That will be quick, I cannot." He grinned.

"Saw you do it with your collar," she countered.

"I got told what it reads."

"I'm sure you can learn. You seem bright enough."

Kelanus interrupted, changing the subject. "I wonder if Raldtu has found horses for us." He flexed his arms in a rare show of impatience. "We must press on." The Third Mate had been ashore since first light, trying to find someone prepared to sell or loan two horses.

All three turned as a quiet knock on the cabin door heralded Cloudy. She had probably been up all night, but looked as though she had enjoyed a full night's sleep. They stared as a second sylph followed her into the cabin. Tahena recognized the plainly-dressed infertile she had seen last night, the sylph with the permanently wilted earpoint. Still in the same clothes, she looked nervous.

Cloudy smiled at them all, though her gaze lingered a little longer on Neptarik. "I hope nobody is too badly hungover."

"Good morning," rumbled Kelanus.

Neptarik grinned at both sylphs.

Tahena raised her head. "Good morning, Cloudy. And hello to your friend."

The other sylph gave a shy grin and bobbed a quick bow. "I am Kytra," she said hesitantly, rubbing a hand up and down the plain material of her breeches.

"Another ship's sylph?" Tahena smiled.

Pain flashed across Kytra's face and her good earpoint sagged. "The vessel part of the ship is gone." She tapped her heart. "This part is still in me." She glanced at Kelanus and visibly tensed.

"A ship's sylph without a ship?" Kelanus kept his voice calm and quiet.

The sylph nodded and glanced at Cloudy.

The older ship's sylph smiled reassuringly. "It is all right," she encouraged, "you can tell him."

Kytra looked at Tahena to calm herself before turning her attention to Kelanus. "Cloudy tells me you seek Ranallic Eydren."

"I do."

"My ship knew him. He was an apprentice seaman in the _Velvet Moon_ before the last one. He stayed two trading seasons before leaving to learn hunting and tracking."

Kelanus grinned and rummaged for a portrait. "This him?" He pushed one at the sylph, who cringed before taking it.

_What has happened to you, poor child?_ Tahena wondered. _Why so terrified of Kelanus?_

"An old portrait?" the sylph eventually asked. "The ship tells me he must be more than seventy years old now."

Kelanus almost groaned. "You must speak of a different Ranallic Eydren," he said. "The man I know is barely in his forties."

Tahena interrupted. "This is too large a coincidence to ignore," she said. "The man we know as Ranallic hails from these parts or nearby. Sandev told me we would meet a ship's sylph without a ship who could help us and here she is. And one to whom the name Ranallic Eydren is familiar."

"But a different man," protested Kelanus.

Tahena ignored the General. "Do you know where Ranallic is now?" she asked. "Don't be frightened, we won't hurt you."

Kytra did not seem reassured by Tahena's promise. "The ship knows where he went to learn his skills," she replied, again glancing nervously at Kelanus. "A village named Pensdren."

"Can you take us there?" pressed Tahena.

"Yes," replied the young sylph. "The ship can guide us there."

Cloudy grinned and winked at the other ship sylph.

_And what is your game?_ wondered Tahena.

"What's the point if we speak of a different Ranallic Eydren?" demanded Kelanus.

"The two must be related," argued Tahena. "They share the same surname. Father and son, perhaps? Either way, we'll only find out if we let Kytra guide us."

Kelanus turned his pale blue eyes on the sylph, who again cringed. "How far away is this village on horseback?"

"The ship says a day or two," answered Kytra. Nervousness thickened her voice. "She went there once for timbers."

"You frightened of horses?"

The ship sylph blinked. "Probably."

***

Matron Ceren of the orphanage looked far from impressed when Kelanus, Tahena and Cloudy, with Neptarik and Kytra in tow, entered her office. She was even less impressed when Kelanus explained why he wanted to borrow Kytra. Even Cloudy failed to allay the matron's suspicions.

"She is frightened," said Ceren. "I can tell."

"The ship within her can help us." Kelanus persisted. He doubted Kytra had anything to contribute and wanted to chase the lead down to settle the matter as quickly as possible.

The matron's slanted eyes narrowed. "The last owner abused his position of authority and treated this sylph abominably," she hissed. "She is frightened, so I will not let her go."

Now he had horses, Kelanus's impatience to be moving again bubbled to the surface. "We need her to guide us."

"Anybody can give you directions to Pensdren. All you need do is –"

"I will be all right with Cloudy," interrupted Kytra, her good earpoint slanted ahead in a show of determination.

"I am not coming, Vel." The other ship sylph shook her head. "Sorry, but I must remain with the ship."

The show of determination ended as the earpoint wilted.

Tahena touched Kelanus's arm, but she addressed the matron. "Will you excuse us a moment?" she asked. "I must speak with my companion."

Neptarik and Cloudy exchanged a look as the two humans left Ceren's office. The matron spoke to the male sylph.

"I suppose if I asked, you would tell me that your Master is a good man."

"My Master _is_ a good man," retorted Neptarik, his silver eyes flashing in irritation, "but Kelanus- _ya_ is not my Master."

"You do not belong to him?" Ceren looked surprised.

"No," interrupted Cloudy, "he does not. I say that Kelanus is a good man."

"And me, and I have known him for longer." Neptarik grinned.

"Why can't you come?" grumbled Kytra. "Why not, Cloudy?"

"You know why, Vel." She smiled at the younger sylph. "I must stay with the ship. You know that. Ask Lyrran."

Kelanus and Tahena returned, the General squaring up to the matron as if he might fight her.

"We are prepared to give surety for the sylph's safety," he said. "Gold, our weapons, whatever you ask."

"Surety?" Ceren's eyes narrowed. "You mistake me, sir; it is not for my benefit I refuse you the sylph, but because of her own fear. She does not trust any round-eyed human male. With reason."

"How about a normal-eyed human female?" Tahena's face hardened. "I will look after her if she fears Kelanus."

"And who will look after you?" Ceren's voice was very quiet.

Tahena's expression tightened further. "You believe I cannot look after myself?" she hissed. "This man is a good man, and better yet, a true man. But if he was that way inclined..." She spread her hands and Kelanus gave a surprised yelp as he lifted a few incas from the ground, while all three sylphs went wide-eyed and hugged themselves. A moment later, she released him. "I can care for Kytra better than you can." Her dark eyes glittered.

"I hope that is Siranva's Gift, and not sorcery," said Ceren, as admiration thickened her voice. She turned to Kytra. "Well?"

The sylph's silvery gray eyes, solemn and wide, regarded Tahena with an expression akin to terror and respect and worship all mingled together. "If Cloudy cannot come, I will be safe with Tahena- _ya_ ," she said.

Ceren nodded. "Very well, the matter is settled." She gave Kelanus a stern look. "I hope."

***

Cloudy walked as far as the city gates, feeding Kytra encouragement the whole way. Both ship sylphs ignored the horses and even Neptarik walked with them, leaving Kelanus and Tahena to ride slowly through the streets. The General played the tourist for the moment, while his companion pointed out places of interest and gave a potted history.

"Hejiller is almost as old as Marka," he rumbled, at one point.

"The city it is built on is even older," replied Tahena. "Candoor held the knowledge of the ancients and was the last city to fall when the original civilization collapsed. What wonders hidden within Candoor are now lost?" Her voice grew heavy with sadness. "Lost."

"Are there many relics of the old civilization here?" Kelanus thought of the strange dish-shaped object near his old home, that seemed to follow the Ark Star whenever it was visible. And remained dormant the rest of the time, though it always came to rest pointing to the exact place on the horizon where the Ark Star would next appear. And the huge pyramid, outside Marka's gates.

Tahena paused. "I'm not sure," she replied. "We'll pass a couple on the way to Pensdren."

"A couple?" Kelanus whistled between his teeth.

"This is as far as I go." At the gates, Cloudy halted. "I cannot leave a town unaccompanied," she explained.

Kytra threw her arms around the other ship sylph's neck. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."

While hugging the other ship's sylph, Cloudy looked up at Kelanus. "May you find what you seek, Kelanus- _ya_ , Tahena- _ya_." She grinned. "We will remain in Hejiller for a little time. We must wait for our cargo, as usual, and the crew deserves some proper leave. If your task is completed quickly, I will be pleased to carry you back to Cadister."

"Thank you." Kelanus smiled. "For a swift and safe voyage."

"Yes, very impressive," added Tahena.

Cloudy blushed. "You will be safe with these people," she told Kytra. "I promise."

Neptarik touched her shoulder. "Meet soon?"

The ship's sylph smiled. "I hope so."

Tahena moved her horse nearer Kytra. "Want to come up?" she asked. "Or would you prefer to scout ahead with Neptarik?"

The sylph gave the horse a wary look before she turned to the male sylph. "Scout?" she asked.

Neptarik inclined his head. "That is what I am."

"Can I stay with you?"

"Yes."

"As you wish." Tahena smiled at Kytra and gave Neptarik a warning look.

Neptarik gave her an innocent one in return as she rejoined Kelanus.

"Well," said the General, "if we don't move now, another day will be gone."

Cloudy watched them leave and stayed at the gate until she could see them no more. Her earpoints twitched as she stared at nothing, mulling an idea over and over. Smiling to herself, she returned to her ship.

***
**Chapter 20**

Truth Will Out

Tahena stood in her stirrups while she and her companion waited for another long timber wagon to rumble past.

"No sign of the sylphs," she said. "I hope we've not lost them."

"Of course not," replied Kelanus. "Neptarik will have his eye on us; he'll know exactly where we are."

The woman sighed. "Having them around complicates things."

Kelanus laughed. "It'd feel strange without sylphs here," he replied. "At least we'll have warning of any danger."

"You know what I mean."

"You mean you don't want Neptarik to think you're a hypocrite."

Tahena sniffed. She sat back down properly on her horse and glared at her companion. "How do you know which way to go to follow these sylphs?"

Kelanus smiled. "We're still following the road. If Neptarik left it, he would leave a patteran to show the way." He looked over his shoulder at the wagon, now safely past. "We can press on again."

Superbly built and maintained, the road had rutted paving, but no hint of weeds. It had lost its smoothness in places, where wagons had found weak points to depress, but was still in far better condition than any other road Kelanus had seen.

Unfortunately, the white stone reflected light and heat, as if the sun was not enough. Tahena had been born at this latitude, but had lost her acclimatization, thanks to her years living in the north. She sweated almost as much as Kelanus.

She stared at his back and smiled. The memory of the High Festival warmed her as she remembered his attentions. She loved a hard man with a tender touch; not that there had been many men in her life, of course. The Father's Gift tended to put them off. Thankfully, if Kelanus had concerns about that, he never showed them. Did he know how much she had fallen for him? She suspected not: this man kept his emotions hidden away for the most part. He probably found it difficult to see emotion in others. No, that was unfair; he had been emotional enough at High Festival.

She smiled again at the memory and looked at the dark patch between his shoulders. Perhaps he suffered a little more than she in the heat.

"This will take us straight to Pensdren," she said, filling the silence. "They built this road for moving ship timbers from the forest to the city."

"We'll find out soon enough," replied Kelanus. "Can't be much further now."

Kytra's ship had said two days, and today was the second day. Tahena had expected Kelanus to be more eager to push ahead, and learn if the two Ranallic Eydren's were related, or if Kytra had brought them here for nothing.

Kelanus seemed less sure that Kytra _was_ the ship sylph they sought, but Tahena _knew_ this road led to answers. Sandev had never been wrong in the time she had known her. If she said that a ship's sylph without a ship would help them, then that would happen. And a ship's sylph without a ship ran along the road with Neptarik. Even better, she knew a Ranallic Eydren! Coincidences this large did not exist.

"How long before we rest the horses?" she asked. "They feel heat too."

Kelanus glanced at the sun, climbing relentlessly towards its meridian. Only a fool rode during the hottest part of the day. "I asked Neptarik to find somewhere cool with water."

"There's one of them now," she said, pointing to a small figure standing in the road. "Kytra, I think."

Without looking Kelanus knew who stood in the road; Neptarik would never show himself like that. Of course, the small infertile with the damaged earpoint had never trained as a scout and couldn't know marshaling was unnecessary. Perhaps she had been asked, just to let her feel useful. Not his concern.

"The lad must have heard me," he said. "Here is somewhere for us to stop."

Kytra grinned at Tahena as she waved the riders off the road towards a copse of stunted trees and bushes. A runnel streamed through its own small rocky valley, tumbling from pool to pool, inviting them to taste it. The infertile walked alongside Tahena's stirrup, still too shy to acknowledge Kelanus.

Neptarik waved from a rock where he basked in the growing heat. He lay at ease and wriggled his toes while watching the surrounding countryside.

"Will this do, _donenya_?"

"It's a good place," Kelanus called back up to him. "No need to keep an eye out. There are no lawless wanderers here. Come down."

" _Se bata_."

The sylph slid off the rock and joined his companions. Tahena shared the food, which was little more than dried vegetables. Kelanus produced some dried goat meat for the two humans. Neptarik and Kytra crouched side by side, slightly apart, but still in the shade of the bushes.

"I'm surprised your ship brought her sylph this way to view timbers," Kelanus remarked to Kytra. "The road seems clear enough."

The ship sylph's mouth worked soundlessly before she lowered her eyes. "Just a dirt track then," she replied. "They used to float the timbers round to Hejiller, but she wanted to choose her own." She looked around and shrugged, her good earpoint twitching. "They built the road during some trouble thirty years ago and have used it for the timbers ever since."

"You may as well try and get some sleep," suggested Kelanus. "I'll stay awake this time. Where are you off to, Neptarik?"

Neptarik paused, one foot off the ground. He put the foot down and turned. "If I am to sleep, I would rather sleep in the sun," he replied, and nodded towards the rock.

"All right." Kelanus nodded. He ignored the scout and watched Tahena.

Kytra submitted to Tahena's attentions as she massaged the ship sylph's damaged earpoint. The human muttered to herself.

"I could try healing this," she said.

Eyes wide, Kytra shrank back.

Tahena smiled. "It won't hurt, I promise." She guided the sylph away, probably for privacy.

Kelanus glanced up at the rock, but nothing of Neptarik showed, except a lower leg that twitched as the scout basked. Kelanus chose to keep watch as he could barely suppress his excitement. Given the obvious age difference, he had no idea how the two Ranallics could possibly be the same man. Might one be father to the other? Were there other surviving relatives? What might he find at Pensdren? He needed to _know_.

His thoughts turned to the ship's sylph without a ship.

That Kytra had been badly treated by the master of her ship saddened him. From what he had seen of ship sylphs, the creatures were usually indulged. Her mistrust of him came from suffering at the hands of one northern man, but that did not stop his concern. Though he shared no blame for her past, for the moment he must shoulder the problem. At least Kytra seemed comfortable around Tahena and, perhaps unsurprisingly, felt happiest with Neptarik. The two sylphs got along very well, much to Tahena's consternation.

In Kelanus's opinion, Kytra was good for Neptarik. The scout had shaken off the worst of his depression, if still not quite his old self. He looked over his shoulder as Tahena and Kytra returned.

"We'll try again later," said Tahena. "It's been damaged for some time. You probably won't get full movement back, but you should get some. A pity we did not meet sooner."

Kytra walked with folded arms and her good earpoint tucked into its ear. She had no more enjoyed having the Gift used on her than Neptarik enjoyed having it used around him.

Kelanus faced the road again. The sooner he got this over and done with, the better.

***

As Tahena had said, the road led to Pensdren. Kytra nodded to herself as her ship recognized where they were. There was not much to it. Houses, a large inn and a temple with a graveyard behind huddled along the land side of the road. A dilapidated quay jutted into the river, the road clearly a mixed blessing for the small town.

The road ended at a large timber yard directly opposite the quay. Beyond, it degenerated into a rutted dirt track. Pilings stuck out of the water here and there, to show the quay used to be bigger. A ramp led into the muddy water of the river beside it. Long wagons like those that passed them on the road stood inside the yard, while the noise made from converting trees into timber assaulted the whole town.

On the other side of the river, two abandoned and partly submerged barges squatted on the riverbed. Kytra looked at them with sad, pitying eyes.

"They used to put the timbers on barges like those and float them downriver," said the ship's sylph. "Where they were picked up by larger ships. But not since they built the road."

"What trouble led to the road?" asked Kelanus.

"Pirates," replied Kytra. "The Shograt finished them."

Pensdren's fields and pasture ran uphill on one side of the town, while the forest hemmed in the other side, running further upriver and out of sight. Kelanus saw a large area where tree seedlings had been planted out, with sylphs tending them.

As the forest provided the great timbers used for building ships, it seemed sensible to have nurseries like this. Now he had seen one, he spotted several more.

The single street looked empty for most still worked in the fields or the timber yard, children included. Only a handful of older men and women sat in their sun porches, or chatted with friends over fence or hedge.

A smattering of sylphs swept pathways, washed laundry, or worked at other chores. All eyes turned to the strangers and the two sylphs quickly gathered more of their race, eager to learn about the newcomers.

"Neptarik gets more than his fair share of attention," remarked Tahena, as breeding female sylphs gathered around the scout. "Looks like there aren't many male sylphs here, either."

"Probably asleep or working," grunted Kelanus, who thought it was hardly Neptarik's fault female sylphs found him attractive. "Perhaps these are unmarried girls."

Tahena looked unconvinced.

They halted before the inn, with closed doors and shuttered windows.

"Too early." Kelanus restrained a groan. "What do we do in a flyspeck like this?"

"Try to find Ranallic Eydren," replied Tahena, securing her horse to a hitching post.

"Let's get accommodation arranged." Kelanus hammered on the inn door a few times with his clenched fist, to no avail. "They can't all be asleep."

"You're wasting your time," said an old man, before Kelanus could bang on the door again. "Larna Eydren is never in at this time of day. And her sylph is deaf." He leaned on the fence that protected the inn grounds from the road and gave them a toothless smile.

"Is he the innkeeper?" asked Kelanus. He wondered why Tahena rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"He?" The old man looked surprised.

"Innkeepers are women in the south," Tahena hissed at Kelanus.

"All right." Kelanus gave her a how-was-I-supposed-to-know expression, while Kytra giggled. "Where might I find Larna Eydren? We need somewhere to sleep and this seems to be the only place."

"Unless you enjoy sleeping under the stars, it is." The old man nodded towards the temple. "She'll be over there with her father."

"Thank you." Kelanus turned to the sylphs. "You stay here, while Tahena and I try to arrange rooms."

" _Se bata_."

Kelanus all but dragged Tahena away from the sylphs and the inn. "Did you hear the name? Eydren. Eydren! How can she be a relative though? And she's with her father. I wonder..."

Tahena tried not to laugh at his exuberance. "Let's find them first. The good news for you is that in these parts, all children take their father's family name."

"They do?" Kelanus looked startled. "What an odd custom."

"I seem to remember somebody warning Neptarik not to mock others' customs." Tahena sniffed in disapproval. "Especially when relying on their goodwill. Besides, as you say, they might not be related."

Kelanus sniffed. "As I recall, it was to do with others' beliefs."

"Not that much difference," retorted Tahena.

The temple presented a modest front, hardly surprising given its location, but familiar as a shrine dedicated to Siranva. Its doors stood open, so worshipers could enter and pray any time of day or night, but nobody was inside. They had time to register the simple altar and beautiful paintings – Tahena said some depicted ilven – before withdrawing to the glaring heat of the far south.

"Let's try the graveyard," suggested Kelanus.

All seemed equally deserted among the headstones, until a short, middle-aged woman abruptly stood and dusted down her long dress. A leather cord held black hair, streaked gray and white, away from her face, and her dark slanted eyes held curiosity as Kelanus and Tahena approached.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

Kelanus smiled. "We're looking for the innkeeper," he replied.

"You've just found her," replied the woman. "I'm Larna Eydren. Did Hiron send you here? He usually does when strangers knock on my door."

"If Hiron's an old man leaning on your fence, then yes."

Larna gave a dazzling warm smile that made the others smile back. "He's one of my best customers. What can I do for you?"

"We'd like rooms for two humans and two sylphs for tonight and possibly tomorrow night, together with stabling for two horses."

"I can provide that," replied the innkeeper.

"We were told you were with your father," remarked Tahena, quietly.

"Yes." She patted the headstone. "He's under here."

"I see. I'm sorry."

Larna's face lit with her smile again. "Don't be; he's been gone twenty-three years. Nearly twenty-four."

"I am Tahena Mithon," continued the other southern woman. "This is Kelanus Butros."

Kelanus walked around the headstone and his eyes widened. Tahena caught his expression, but said nothing.

"Pleased to meet you both." Larna looked closely into Tahena's face. "Yours is a local name. Well, not from all that far away."

"A long story."

"And you are a northerner." Larna smiled at Kelanus. "I expect to hear some interesting tales over a mug later."

She led the visitors back towards the inn and nodded to the old man who had given directions. "Thank you Hiron."

Hiron straightened. "Opening early today?" he asked.

"At my usual time," she replied. She turned to her visitors. "If you lead your horses down that alley, you'll come to the stables. I'm afraid my ostler is in the next valley, doing some smithying. Oh, hello!"

The sylphs detached themselves from the inn wall, until now unnoticed as they sat so still on their heels. More introductions were made. Tahena and Kytra entered the inn, while Neptarik followed Kelanus.

"How is the ship's sylph coming along?" asked the human.

"Very shy," replied the sylph, "but getting used to me."

"Still frightened of me?"

Neptarik helped secure one of the animals and brushed it down quickly. "She'll get better," he said, eventually. His voice held doubt.

Inside, Larna showed them to their rooms; each boasted a single bed and a sleeping pallet for a sylph. Kytra was relieved to hear that she would share Tahena's room.

In the other room, Neptarik watched Kelanus slip a small portrait of the man he knew as Ranallic Eydren into a pocket. After meeting in the corridor outside the rooms, all four returned downstairs. An infertile smiled and gestured silently. Moments later, they joined Larna in her living room, where Neptarik and Kytra crouched unobtrusively to one side.

From other rooms, they heard serving girls clinking glasses and the cook clattering about in the kitchen. The inn was getting ready to open. The silent sylph, earpoints unnaturally still, pattered in with alovak and began serving it.

Larna said nothing to the sylph, but smiled at her. "Ullan is deaf," she explained. "Waste of time speaking to her. She rarely makes any noise. Having said that, she understands more than you might think."

Tahena looked at the sylph and a small frown furrowed her brow.

Larna changed the subject. "What brings you to Pensdren?"

"To search for a man's roots," replied Kelanus. "Or perhaps his beginnings. A man who has twice had me removed from my position to fill it himself."

"Sounds like jealousy." Larna smiled to take the sting from her words.

"I'm a professional soldier," retorted Kelanus. "I fought for Branad Vintner and supported the pursuit of his claim to the Throne of Marka. I rose to the rank of General and replaced Mikhan Annada as Field Commander. Under me was a brilliant mercenary soldier – a southerner – who rose through the ranks quickly and became my Third General after swinging a battle in our favor. Twelve months later, he accused me of murdering sylphs. There was never a trial, though there were sylphs who swore that I'd tried to kill them, but the rumor cost me my job.

"Of course, I went over to the other side – or one of them. I joined Marcus Vintner, who needed a good commander, and quickly swung the war his way. Then, this year, Branad and Marcus Vintner met in battle and Branad was defeated, ending his claim. Once again, my accuser stood a step below me."

"Are you guilty of murdering sylphs?" asked Larna. She spread her hands defensively in response to the glare Kelanus directed at her. "Obviously not, or you wouldn't tell me."

"Within days of his defeat, Branad Vintner renounced his claim to the Throne and was murdered the same night. Accusing fingers pointed my way, directed _by the same man_ , and I found myself arrested again."

"Rivals always hate each other." Larna shrugged. "Perhaps this Marcus Vintner settled his rival and used you to take the blame."

Kelanus shook his head. "Branad had renounced his claim to the Throne, so he was of greater value to Marcus alive. How else could he keep two factions behind him? Everybody believed it was _me_ settling an old score, but they never realized what I might lose by murdering a man I had always respected."

"Hadn't he ended your service with him?"

"Branad had little choice but to act as he did." Kelanus leaned forward. "But who stood to gain most by having me out of the way? Yet again?"

"And you believe this man is from around here?"

"Yes."

"Does he have a name?"

"He does." Kelanus and Tahena exchanged a quick look. "He calls himself Ranallic Eydren."

The innkeeper sat silently for a few moments and a small muscle twitched in her cheek. She spoke so quietly her human companions strained to hear it. "My father was Ranallic Eydren."

Kelanus looked apologetic. "I saw the name on the headstone."

Larna's eyes bored into him. "When he left the sea, Father came here, married a local girl and became the local tracker and hunter, while Mother cared for the inn." Her eyes flickered. "That's him."

Kelanus and Tahena looked at the portrait. "Definitely not the man I know as Ranallic Eydren," rumbled Kelanus.

However, Kytra nodded in recognition.

"My father was murdered," continued Larna. "You said the man who wears my father's name as his own accused you of murdering sylphs. Just murder?"

Tahena's eyes widened. "Just?" she spluttered.

"I think you know what I mean." Larna's words were directed at Kelanus, even though she answered Tahena.

Kelanus twisted his mouth in distaste. "No," he replied. He heard faint sounds from other people moving about and the clatter of the main door being pinned back. A low hubbub of voices indicated the inn had opened for evening trade. "There were no details in the accusations, but I know they were mutilated before they died."

Larna regarded Kelanus from over the top of steepled fingers. "Some years back, we had a spate of sylphs being killed. The murderer chose only males, never females and never infertiles. The killer liked to mutilate and then leave the poor creature to bleed to death."

Tahena gasped. Neptarik winced and shifted uncomfortably on his heels. Only Kytra appeared unmoved.

"My father suspected for some time who was responsible and eventually caught his apprentice in the act. The whole village knew my father's suspicions, but that did not save him from becoming a victim. Nor, for that matter, the sylph. We never found out or understood _why_. The apprentice deserved to die for his crimes against the sylphs, never mind my father."

Kelanus and Tahena exchanged another glance. "Was the apprentice put to death?"

Tahena already knew the answer to her question.

"He fled."

"The man we know as Ranallic Eydren is in his early forties," said Kelanus. "And your father died almost a quarter of a century ago?"

"If we're talking about the same man, he would be forty-two now," said Larna. "We've not forgotten Ellas Panir. The warrant for his execution is still in force."

"Oh?" Kelanus's eyes widened.

"You display your ignorance again," remarked Tahena. "A trial can be held without a defendant in Hejiller."

"He was tried, found guilty and sentenced in his absence," added Larna.

Kelanus's fingers closed around the small portrait and he pulled it free. "This is the man of whom we speak."

Larna's face tightened as she inspected the portrait Kelanus passed to her. "Older," she muttered, "but that's definitely Ellas Panir."

"But how could he make people and sylphs believe he was me when he committed his crimes?" asked Kelanus. "Did anything else strange ever happen around him?"

Larna shook her head. "Not that I recall."

"If he had the Father's Gift," put in Tahena, "it would have manifested itself before he murdered your father."

"Nothing to suggest that. Certainly not when he lived here."

"He must have learned after leaving," said Tahena. "Which means his skill is sorcery."

"What skill?" asked Larna.

"I think that Ra – um, Ellas, is a shapeshifter," replied Tahena. "The Father's Gift is granted and manifests itself when a child is still young. Sorcery is sought out by its practitioners and is demonically inspired, although not all sorcerers are necessarily evil. Not to begin, but sorcery corrupts its practitioners."

"Ellas Panir is definitely evil."

Kelanus's smile did not touch his eyes. "Not for much longer."

Kytra glanced at Kelanus and, if anything, her wariness of him increased. Neptarik gave her a reassuring smile.

Larna nodded. "If you execute that warrant, I'll be ever in your debt."

"No you won't." Kelanus" pale blue eyes turned colder and harder. "What I do to Ranallic – or Ellas Panir if you prefer – will be mostly for myself. Seeing justice done is an added bonus."

"May I be excused?" asked Neptarik, suddenly.

Kelanus nodded and the two sylphs rose smoothly to their feet to leave the room. Kytra's good earpoint twitched once as the door closed quietly behind them.

"Why have we left?" asked the ship's sylph.

Neptarik grinned, but said nothing as he led the infertile sylph up the stairs and to his room, where he pulled free his lucky scarf and some coin.

"That is stealing!" Kytra's eyes were like saucers and her earpoint stood bolt upright. "We will be in trouble! We will –"

"My money," protested the other, winding the scarf around his head. "Let us see what people do for fun here."

"Are we allowed?"

"Nobody said we cannot."

The ship's sylph remained unconvinced as her companion led her downstairs and into the public bar. Twelve large tables had long benches down either side. Two serving girls waited on with ale and hot food, keeping the men at the tables fed and watered.

Despite the heat, most wore furs and woolens, and bacca smoke curled lazily into the air from many pipes. Several games of cards were going on and the room sounded full of good-natured raucousness.

"Do not like this," muttered the smaller sylph. "Do not like this, do not like this, do not –"

"Shush!" cautioned Neptarik.

"Look!" called out a rough voice. "Here's the lad who's set the girls' tongues a-wagging!"

Another man turned to Neptarik. "My Nirrin's been begging me to see your owner so she can mate with you."

"We could have you worn out in less than an hour."

"Wish the human girls would look at me the same way sylph girls look at you."

There was much laughter and Neptarik grinned. He recognized friendly banter, not much different from ribbings he used to get from soldiers. Moments later, he joined a table, while Kytra stood shyly behind him.

"Ale, lad? Sure your owner won't mind?"

"My owner is not here."

The man laughed and moments later a mug of ale was thrust at Neptarik.

"What about your shy friend?"

Kytra shrank back and shook her head.

"Word is the outlander you rode in with is a General," continued the man, after giving Kytra a reassuring wink. "What drags you all down here? Looking for a dead man, I hear."

Neptarik glanced quickly at the serving girls and shrugged. "I am just a sylph," he replied, licking a mustache of ale from his upper lip. Larna's helpers obviously listened at doors. He must warn Kelanus and Tahena to exercise discretion. Later. "I am not told everything. If they say go there, then I go."

"Of course." The man patted the sylph's shoulder.

"You've come from Marka?" asked another man.

Neptarik nodded and took another swig of ale.

"Is it true," continued the same man, "that they've put a sylph on the Throne there?"

"Yes," replied Neptarik, "it is." He grinned. "May I join your game? I have coin and want to win more."

The human men exchanged a look before nodding.

Behind, Kytra sighed and shook her head. Nevertheless, both sylph and ship remembered the crew playing cards for money and she applauded as Neptarik began to make coin.

By the time Kelanus and Tahena finally finished their discussion with Larna, the scout had a tidy amount. Of course, Tahena expressed disgust at the gambling and quickly whisked Kytra away to bed. Kelanus admired the sylph's skill and stayed to watch. Of course, the villagers assumed he was Neptarik's owner and inundated him with requests for his sylph to sleep with the many available and nubile young sylph girls.

"Good stock in that lad," said one man. "We need him to add fresh blood."

"Well, Neptarik?" asked Kelanus, laughing. "Do you want to rent yourself out, or inspect the girls first?"

Neptarik grinned. "Inspect them? Why not? Though I have never met an ugly sylph girl yet."

The men in the bar laughed and thumped their tables in appreciation at the sylph's joke.

"My Nirrin's first in the queue," interrupted the man who had spoken earlier. "A pretty one for the gambler."

"It depends how long we stay," put in the sylph helpfully. "Maybe I can get through them all."

Kelanus laughed. "You're one very greedy sylph."

Neptarik grinned.

***

"Cloudy said she would be some time."

Tahena rolled her eyes. "I know that," she replied, "but there's little point in kicking our heels here; we may as well return to Hejiller and wait until the ship is ready. Besides, Matron Ceren will worry about her orphan. We said we'd only be a few days."

Kelanus nodded. "True."

Kytra sat on her heels and ignored the conversation, sparked by the missing Neptarik. Not that they had lost the scout, just that he spent little time at the inn. He gambled with Larna's customers – handing his winnings to Kelanus for safe keeping – and spent a _lot_ of time with all the allegedly frustrated female sylphs.

Kytra crouched beside one the chairs, forgotten by her companions. Which was how she liked her relationship with most humans. She had her own battle to fight. Could she trust Tahena enough to let her continue to try healing her bad earpoint? Should she, dare she? Perhaps only wishful thinking, but she felt more movement in it already.

They had spent the last day resting at the inn and Kytra decided she enjoyed being away from the orphanage. She liked seeing some of the places her ship had seen, and could now share with her latest sylph.

She looked up at the mention of Neptarik.

Kelanus grimaced. "They want to improve their breeding stock in Pensdren and the only way is to use sylphs from outside."

"He is being used as a prostitute."

"How? There's no money changing hands, except through gambling. Besides, it's good for him."

Tahena snorted. "No, it's very, very bad for him. When we return to Marka, he must be married. This does him no good at all in the long run. He must have a wife! At his age he should have two."

"A hundred wives would not be enough for Neptarik," put in Kytra.

Both humans looked at her in surprise. Kelanus recovered first.

"You're getting worked up over nothing. Neither he nor the girls are married, so their owners may do as they see fit."

"The boy's owner isn't here," pointed out Tahena.

"I've not heard any complaints from Neptarik."

"I'm sure you haven't! I bet he's loving every moment of it."

"So what's the problem?"

Tahena threw up her hands in surrender. "What's happening is immoral. It's disgraceful! Even Neptarik has admitted he wants nothing more than a wife."

Kelanus grinned. "If it's any consolation, I've decided we'll return to Hejiller. I'm sure Cloudy's missing him, too."

Tahena's eyes narrowed even further. "You're making fun of me."

The grin widened. "Of course. But you're right, we should return to Hejiller and try and hurry Cloudy up."

"We'll just have to wait for the stud first," sneered Tahena. "Oh well, it'll give me more time to look at Kytra's bad ear."

As if summoned, Neptarik wandered into the room. He smiled and nodded at them, before taking a seat.

"How much longer before we go?" he asked, nodding to Kytra.

"How do you know we're leaving?" demanded Tahena.

"I heard the discussion," replied the sylph. He smiled as the human woman blushed. "From the bottom of the stairs." He bowed to her. "I am pleased to hear that you care so deeply for my morals, _donanya_." He gave a quick frown. "You are not married, either."

Tahena colored even more and Kelanus rumbled a laugh. Confused, Kytra stared at them.

"You should be whipped!" The southern woman scowled at Neptarik before giving way completely. She threw her hands into the air and laughed. "All right, point taken."

The scout turned to Kelanus. "Do we leave now, or in the morning?"

"Now," replied the General. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Quite a crowd gathered to see them off. Larna Eydren wished Kelanus well in bringing the man who had stolen her father's life and name to justice at last, while a knot of sylph girls wept while taking turns to hug Neptarik goodbye.

Tahena kept her expression deliberately neutral while watching this emotional display, but she did notice that of those men not yet gone to their work, most looked pleased to see the back of Neptarik. He had probably won too much money; these men did not all enjoy a regular income.

Kytra stood to one side and waited for Neptarik to tell her what to do. The ship's sylph insisted on running with the scout, though she spared a smile for Tahena. Her wariness of Kelanus remained and the human woman doubted if that attitude would change much now. If she did not yet know that Kelanus was a decent man, she never would. At least the sylph's fear had caused no problems.

"All right Neptarik," called Kelanus. "Lead us out."

The male sylph took his place at the head of the small procession, turned his face towards Hejiller and led them out of the village. When Tahena next looked over her shoulder, she saw nothing of Pensdren but smoke rising from the village ovens.

"How's our friend Sallis ti Ath getting on?" asked Kelanus, dropping back to ride alongside Tahena.

"Haven't given him a thought in days," admitted his companion and her dark eyes glittered. "But he's not come any closer. Or further away. He's waiting somewhere."

"Perhaps."

"Sallis ti Ath never gives up. Once that warrant's in his hand, he will not rest until his man is in custody."

"Then why has he come no closer?" Kelanus looked at her. "He's making no effort to find us. We could be anywhere by now."

"He knows we intend to return." Tahena shrugged. "He won't have given up. He may have been summoned back to Marka, but he's not traveled far enough north for that."

"Where do you think he is?"

"Cadister, waiting for us."

"What will happen when we meet?"

Tahena sniffed. "He'll arrest you and escort you back to Marka."

"So he's unlikely to harm me?"

"Unless you try to harm him."

Kelanus smiled. "If he's in Cadister when we get there, I'll follow him quietly. That'll surprise him, I think."

"I don't think there is much left in life to surprise Sallis ti Ath." Tahena smiled. "Let's hope the _Flying Cloud_ is ready to sail."

***

While Kelanus and Neptarik returned the horses to their rightful owner, Tahena returned Kytra to her orphanage. The sylph was surprisingly chatty from the moment Kelanus left their sight and smiled up at Tahena more than once. As she handed the sylph back to Matron Ceren, she realized that perhaps she should listen to her heart... She made a decision.

As the sylph disappeared to her quarters, Ceren turned to Tahena. "I take it she was no trouble? Infertiles rarely are."

"Very well behaved," replied the other woman. "Delightful, if a little wary of us. Especially Kelanus."

"I did warn you." Ceren gave a satisfied nod.

"I'd like to buy her," said Tahena. "She is charming."

Ceren's face grew solemn. "I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Why not?" Consternation crossed the other's face.

"She has already been sold," replied the matron.

"To whom?"

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you that: such contracts are confidential."

Of course. Tahena knew better than to try and match the third party's offer. Such behavior was frowned upon all over the south.

"Oh well." She turned away.

"I have many other sylphs who would love to enter your service," Ceren quickly added.

"Thank you, but I'd set myself on Kytra. No matter; I'm sure you've found her a good home."

Ceren smiled. "She'll know she's landed on her feet."

Tahena pulled herself together. "I'm sure she'll be happier with her new owner than carrying my books."

Matron Ceren saw her to the main door, but Tahena hardly registered her, returning to the quayside where they had last seen _Flying Cloud_. Pleased to see the ship had not sailed, she immediately noted a hive of activity aboard. She walked across the gangway, smiling and nodding to the crew. Mate Steffin met her as she stepped onto the deck from the rowing platform and nodded to her.

"What's that smell?" she asked, sniffing the air.

Steffin smiled. "Bacca," he replied. "Gorgeous, isn't it?"

Tahena's dark eyes flashed. "Dangerous," she retorted. "Pulling smoke into nose and lungs cannot be good for you. Faugh! What's going on? We thought you'd be here a couple of weeks yet."

"Ship and Captain have changed their minds," replied Steffin.

Tahena raised an eyebrow.

"Leave's been cut short and we're headed back to Cadister in the next day or so. Just waiting on the final consignment of bacca."

"Why the change of plan?" Looking around, Tahena noted a large number of southern men, all obviously sailors complete with their kitbags, gathering further aft.

"An old friend of the Captain's has agreed to join in a new company. There'll be two ships, so we're rushing north to get things started."

"Are Kelanus and Neptarik aboard yet? Is Cloudy?"

"Yes they are and no she isn't." Steffin grinned again. "Cloudy insisted we keep the cabin for you. Lucky to keep your privacy; we'll be proper crowded headed north with two crews aboard."

"Half the work, surely," laughed Tahena. "Why are they all here?"

"So they can learn to handle a ship like this. Southern ships are different from ours. When the officers are here tomorrow, the training will begin."

"I see." Tahena smiled. "I'd better go and join the others."

Entering the spacious cabin, Tahena found Kelanus in one of the chairs and Neptarik cross-legged on the floor. Her saddlebag looked abandoned on her cot and she nodded thanks to the sylph. She assumed he had sorted the luggage. He smiled back; despite her disapproval of so much he did, he seemed to view her with genuine affection.

"Cloudy or the Captain back yet?" rumbled Kelanus. "The sylph said we'd be welcome and it looks like we're expected, but I'd like to see her first."

"Not yet," replied Tahena. "But they're nearly ready to sail."

Kelanus nodded. "Something about a new ship and a partnership with a Captain Gardo, or some name similar."

"Steffin told me as much." Tahena shrugged.

Shouts from the deck above preceded the sound of pattering feet and Tahena peered out of the stern windows and towards the quayside. "Looks like the last of the cargo has just arrived," she remarked.

"Bacca." Kelanus shook his head. "I wonder how cheap it is to buy down here compared with home."

"It's a disgusting habit," pointed out Tahena. She swung to face Neptarik. "I'm surprised you don't indulge."

The sylph looked affronted. "Bacca?" He shook his head violently and screwed up his face in disgust. "Sylphs neither chew nor smoke it."

"They're not supposed to gamble either," countered the woman, quickly. "Or be busy out of wedlock."

Neptarik's eyes widened momentarily before he grinned. "Not many sylphs gamble," he agreed cautiously, "but many of us are required to breed outside marriage. We must produce a steady supply of sylphs for nasty human owners. But I have never heard of any sylph using bacca."

The southern woman smiled back to show she had finished baiting him.

She turned to Kelanus. "So we're waiting here for the Captain and ship's sylph to return?"

"Unless you have any better ideas," retorted the General. "How did Kytra take her return to the orphanage?"

"She's been sold," replied Tahena. "Sounds like it's to another ship owner so she should be happy enough."

"Unless it's one like the last," pointed out Kelanus. "We can wish her well."

Tahena changed the subject. "Are we staying aboard tonight, or eating in Hejiller?"

"I'd rather stay here." Kelanus shrugged. "I have a lot of writing to do so I know how best to conduct my defense once Sallis ti Ath lays hands on me."

Tahena crossed the small space to stand beside Kelanus. "Everything will work out," she promised. "Look how quickly we discovered the truth about Ranallic. Before we arrived we had no idea what to do or how to go about it. Yet, barely a week later, we're ready to return."

"Yes." Kelanus nodded. "But what will we return to?"

"We're about to find that out." She smiled. "Together."

***

The next morning, Cloudy served their breakfast. An apology for again not being aboard when they arrived and to assure them any rudeness was unintended. Ship sylphs should greet guests personally on arrival.

"Choca!" Neptarik rubbed his hands in glee at the dark sweet on each dish, beside the breakfast proper. His earpoints twitched in excitement and it looked for a moment that he might dance on the table.

The ship sylph nodded. "From my personal stock."

"Personal stock?" Neptarik blinked. "Will you marry me?"

"Oh Cloudy, we're touched but this isn't necessary," protested Tahena. "We've accepted your apologies."

"Please," begged the ship's sylph. "Take, eat, enjoy."

Neptarik nodded agreement and, just in case Tahena or Kelanus persuaded the other sylph to change her mind, popped his share straight into his mouth. Only a fool allowed the rare treat of choca to pass by and he for one intended that his piece ended up in his stomach.

"When do we sail?" asked Tahena. "I'm pleased to say we discovered what we came here to find."

Cloudy smiled. "As soon as the new ship's officers are aboard and the tide is in our favor. We had to wait for you anyway, so the ship is pleased that your quest was completed before you thought it might be."

" _Had_ to wait for us?" asked Kelanus.

The sylph ignored the question. "Enjoy your meal," she said, bobbing a quick curtsy before dashing out of the cabin.

Neptarik fixed his gaze on the others' plates. "If you do not want your choca," he said, "I am more than happy to help you out."

After breakfast, the passengers stepped onto the stern walkway where they leaned against the rail to stare at the quayside and city, already gleaming in the strong sunlight. Tahena suddenly pointed.

"I wonder if those are the officers we're waiting for."

Seven men strode purposefully towards the _Flying Cloud_. A patch of blue betrayed a sylph's presence. The men were southerners with slanted eyes and sun-darkened faces, all smartly dressed in sailors' clothing. Neptarik, whose eyes were sharpest, suddenly scrambled back inside the cabin and disappeared onto the upper deck, where his companions heard him calling to Cloudy.

Tahena and Kelanus exchanged a look before following the sylph topside, where a grinning ship's sylph met them. She nodded towards the men still striding along the quayside.

"Here they are," smiled Cloudy. "We will sail as soon as the tide turns."

Tahena stared at the newcomers as they crossed the gangway to board the ship, where their crew greeted them. The sylph with them started shyly up the gangway, only hurrying when one of the newcomers with graying hair turned and called to her. Reaching the deck, the shy sylph smiled at Tahena and Neptarik, and glanced warily at Kelanus. Her one good earpoint twitched a couple of times.

"Hello," said Kytra.

Tahena grinned and Neptarik stepped forward to hug her.

Cloudy took her turn to hug the smaller ship's sylph. "I hope your time with your new ship is happier than with your old, Vel. Welcome to my decks."

Kytra grinned and bobbed her head. "So happy to stand aboard a ship again," she said. "Thank you for your welcome. We are grateful for it."

Tahena patted the sylph on her back. "I'm so pleased for you," she said. "I tried to buy you, but Matron Ceren said you'd already been sold."

Kytra's smile broadened. "Thank you _donanya_." She gestured with her hand. "I hope we can still be friends."

Tahena hugged the sylph. "Of course," she replied.

***
**Chapter 21**

The Wraiths Attack

Marcus Vintner crept across the room, headed for the door. Everybody's food ration had shrunk again and cut most for those Olista rather chillingly referred to as "non-essential". That included domestic sylphs, so those who were not scouts or nurses spent most of their time asleep, barely breathing.

Jenn looked peaceful, curled up in her blankets with her earpoints tucked away, and Marcus did not want to wake her. Awake and active for about three hours a day, she managed to pack quite a lot of work into that time.

Usually, Marcus would be unable to pass without waking her, thanks to some strange sense, but she slept deeply now.

An auxiliary nurse in the field, her services were not needed in the city and so her rations were cut with all other domestic sylphs. Marcus feared the sylphs were slowly starving to death.

He stepped out of his rooms and into the hallway beyond.

As most light crystals in the hall were left uncovered, he blinked his eyes while they adjusted to the sudden brightness. He closed the door quietly behind him and a scout rose smoothly to his feet.

" _Enya_."

"Good morning, Belaika."

"We are going now?" asked the sylph, while his owner paused.

Marcus nodded. With no meal until midmorning, they had nothing to wait for. The Emperor had even rationed alovak. As Marcus and his scout left the palace, a knot of Guardsmen surrounded them in a swirl of purple-lined cloaks. A Guard Lieutenant made a short report.

"There has been no bombardment during the night, sire," he said.

Marcus's plan to raid Hingast by opening the gates at night had proved stillborn. Hingast had expected something of the sort and ensured plenty of light at the gates. The one attempt at a breakout ended in disaster as Hingast's concealed archers cut down his men as they left the city.

The extra light enabled the defenders to see any assault from the enemy. Hingast then began dousing the fires before sending men against the gates, so some of that advantage was lost. Sometimes he doused the fires just to panic the defenders.

Hingast usually moved his catapults into range under cover of darkness, fired off a few salvoes and pulled back again before the Markans could range their own machines. Last night, he had clearly not bothered.

"That might not be good news, Lieutenant Rutton. He may have something else planned."

"I know, sire."

Hingast's catapults had caused less damage than expected, thanks to Mikhan's preparatory work. All rubble was carted away to be used as ammunition. And Hingast's shaped stones were returned to sender via mangonel whenever his war machines or men came within range.

Marcus swung into Jablon's saddle. "Take me to Aylos Jalan."

The ride through the streets of Marka was quick and uneventful. All servants scurrying on errands were human and the only sylphs in sight were scouts who raised a hand in greeting to Belaika or bowed to Marcus. Aylos had set up his factory in a deserted house close to the Senate, but far enough away to be free from prying political eyes.

"There are reports of an army gathering in Cadister," said Rutton, making conversation. "We don't know whose side the Trading Council will take."

Marcus nodded. "Kestan has sent scouts to investigate," he replied. "We'll know soon enough." The senior officer outside the besieged city, only Lance Captain Kestan and his men could react to external developments. He had proved to be Marka's piece of good news.

Conversation came to a halt as they arrived at their destination, where the sylph Tredden greeted them. He nodded and bowed, earpoints twitching, holding the door for Marcus, Rutton and Belaika.

"Ah!" Wringing his hands, Aylos bustled into the hall. "You have come to see our progress? Please sir, please come with me. It is all ready!" His pale blue eyes glowed with excitement and he gestured that they should follow.

Tredden gave Belaika a quick grin and the scout smiled back; he had not forgotten the warning this sylph had given at the initial demonstration. Aylos led his visitors below ground, where most of the firepowder and the equally secret new weapons were stored.

A hastily-constructed rack contained wooden balls large enough to fit into the mangonels. A black match protruded from each, similar to those used for lighting the green fire. Aylos slapped one eagerly and Belaika flinched, fearing the ball might explode. His earpoints lay back in his hair momentarily.

"For the catapults," explained Aylos. He wagged a finger. "Do _not_ light the fuse until after it is loaded into the catapult. Also, it must be cut shorter by one inca for every hundred pacas of decreased range. The fuse is designed for a maximum distance of four hundred pacas. Every ball has small pieces of iron inside, which will scatter when the ball explodes." He sniffed. "I don't approve, but they will be effective."

"Excellent." Marcus nodded appreciatively. "How many are ready?"

"Two hundred," replied Aylos promptly. "The workers you gave me are fast and accurate."

"And the rockets?" pressed Marcus, unable to keep boyish eagerness from his voice.

"Through here." Aylos vaguely waved his hand at another door that led deeper underground. "Only a few are aware of their existence, so we have not built quite as many. You have fifty-eight at your disposal."

Marcus nodded.

Belaika glanced at his master's hands, clasped tightly in front of him. Marcus gave an outward impression of wanting more, but the sylph immediately knew the available quantity had pleased his owner.

"I've mounted one on the frame I recommend you use for launching," continued Aylos, as he led them into the room.

"Launching?" murmured Marcus. "Some sort of ship?" Nevertheless, he inspected the wooden frame on which the rocket rested. It looked very similar to the frame on which his mangonels and ballistae were built, but with smaller wheels.

Aylos considered Marcus's question. "They are a sort of ship, of the air. Launching is the word Obert uses. Now, before use, the wheels on the frame must be removed. They're intended only for moving the frame into position. They must go because the frame is not designed to move in the same way as other war machines."

"It isn't?"

"On your throwing machines, the wheels help improve trajectory and maintain stability."

Marcus nodded impatiently, though he hadn't got the slightest idea what the scientist was telling him.

"As with your glorified crossbows, my rocket launchers must be fixed in place for the weapons to work properly. You can traverse the launcher a good distance to right or left, but ensure nobody leans over it while the weapon launches." He tapped the framework's metal back. "Heat and flame will be forced away from this and I cannot guarantee which way it will choose to vent itself. Hopefully up, but we concentrated on ensuring the rockets launch properly."

Marcus inspected the rocket sat on its launcher.

Aylos held up a hand. "If the rocket fails to move, clear the immediate area. The firepowder inside the rocket lights the fuse that causes the explosion." He wagged his admonitive finger again. "If it does not launch, it will probably still explode so get your men away from it. Rockets will kill us as effectively as the enemy."

Belaika blinked, but Marcus seemed not to mind Aylos's manner.

"Excellent." Marcus forced a smile. "Has Marshal Mikhan sent his instructions? He knows where best to place these."

"He came yesterday. The rockets and bombs are to be transferred to the walls on covered carts. The twelve rocket mountings you ordered went yesterday and should be in place now."

"Good." Marcus nodded.

They made their way outside.

Marcus paused. "You and your team are to be congratulated."

A huge smile blossomed on Tredden's face, but Aylos merely nodded. "We'll keep producing until you tell us to stop," he promised. "Or we run out of materials."

Marcus turned to Belaika. "Find out where Mikhan is please."

The scout nodded and whistled the question, knowing there would be several scouts within earshot. He heard the question repeated and, moments later, the answer returned.

"Southern command post."

Marcus gave his sylph a quick grin of thanks before turning to his escort. "South Gate, gentlemen."

As the claimant and his escort reached the South Gate, he saw Zenepha had already arrived. The sylph Emperor spent considerable time at one or other of the command posts, but Marcus had thought the sylph still at the palace. Guard Commander Mansard gave his former employer a polite nod of the head, while Djerana gave him a warm smile. Marshal Mikhan conversed with the Emperor, but turned to face the newcomers.

"Good morning. There's something strange going on over there; I was just discussing it with His Majesty." Mikhan's deepset blue eyes glittered at Marcus. "General Ranallic at the North Gate has also noticed it."

Forgetting his usual pride, Marcus accepted the proffered spyglass and used it to stare at his enemy. "Have the scouts passed comment?" he asked, sweeping the glass this way and that. He marveled at the magnification. Why couldn't they make lenses of this quality in Calcan?

"Nothing out of the ordinary," replied Mikhan. "They probably can't get close enough. Either way, nothing to report."

"What am I looking for?" asked Marcus. "All looks normal to me."

"Where are the men normally at the catapults?" The Marshal kept his voice quiet. "Why is the infantry stood behind the nearest row of tents? They are never so far back this time of day."

Marcus looked again. It was true. Where there were usually hundreds of men ready to fight, or preparing weapons, he saw nothing and nobody. He handed the spyglass back to its rightful owner. "You're right."

"Something is going on." Mikhan grimaced. "And we're about to find out what that might be."

Djerana, her emerald eyes wide with terror, suddenly staggered. The sylphs, Zenepha included, rubbed their arms, shivered and looked at each other or their owners with frightened eyes, earpoints slanted so far back that they stuck out behind their heads.

Even the humans were thrown off balance as the world suddenly went strange, with colors reversed and all sense of direction lost.

"What was that?" Marcus dragged himself upright and helped a dry-retching ilven to her feet.

Belaika pointed, unable to hide his fear.

The ground between Hingast's camp and the city walls was no longer deserted.

Mikhan reacted first. "Scouts! Whistle the attack! Archers! Catapults!"

"What are they?"

Nobody answered.

The creatures that... _moved..._ steadily towards the city wore cowled black robes and glided across the ground as if they somehow floated above, rather than walked upon it. All cowls were up, leaving only a dark space where the face should be, if they had faces. Worryingly, they could see through the apparitions.

"Clear the walls of non-combatants," commanded Mikhan. "One sylph scout every five hundred pacas only."

The marshal's dispassionate orders were relayed as Marcus drew his sword. "Down below, Icca."

" _Se bata_." Belaika did not sound disappointed to leave.

Mikhan looked at Zenepha, but he shook his head. The aged soldier turned his attention to Djerana, but her response was equally emphatic.

"I will stay, Marshal Mikhan," she said, her musical voice making itself heard despite the clamor on the walls. "These creatures will not harm me."

The archers sent arrow after arrow into the dark mass of creatures below. When an arrow passed through one, the cowled figure dissipated with a loud pop, spurting forward as it vanished. If they kept up this rate of fire, they would be out of arrows before long.

"They are called wraiths." Grayar's quiet voice came from behind.

Everybody in earshot turned, Djerana with a warm welcoming smile. Mikhan opened his mouth to say something, but Grayar spoke over him.

"I felt the portal between our world and theirs open. They are not here fully, for which we can be grateful. Don't let them touch your skin, or you will die. Thankfully, they cannot stand the touch of iron, so anything containing iron will return them to their proper place. Pass this information to all your men as quickly as possible."

Mikhan nodded to the nearest scout, the wide-eyed sylph whistling the message on, though the humans could not hear the sound. Even Djerana only just detected it, a small frown furrowing her forehead as she tried to decide whether she really heard the whistle, or just imagined it.

Marcus turned his sword, warming his wrist muscles through. "What is this portal and how is it possible to make it?"

"A portal between worlds." Grayar smiled. "Only the most powerful sorcerers can control a portal and the most powerful sorcerer I have the misfortune to know controls this one. Fortunately, I can deal with him."

Even as the stocky man spoke, a continuous series of pops indicated wraiths being repatriated rapidly in numbers. Shouts from below the walls, on the city side, indicated where hundreds of off-duty soldiers ran to their stations, all carrying fresh supplies of weapons. Even better, the sylphs dismissed from the walls had seen that the archers would soon run out of arrows and arranged themselves to keep them supplied. Marcus spotted Belaika among the scouts running up and down the stone steps laden with arrows.

Grayar continued. "They will keep coming for as long the portal is open."

"Can you shut it?"

Grayar smiled, nodded, and disappeared before their eyes.

Zenepha and the sylph scout on the walls rubbed their arms and stared wide-eyed at each other.

The first wraiths to reach the walls caused the next shock. Instead of coming to a halt, as Marcus expected, they began to rise. The first rank of archers leaned over the walls to fire their arrows directly down, many at point blank range. Behind them, men with pikes, axes and swords massed.

A scream indicated the first human casualty as a wraith, while dissipating, caught an archer's exposed flesh. The soldier clutched at his poisoned arms, his mouth opening wider and wider in a rising screech, until he suddenly gurgled and pitched forward, not even twitching.

Weapons flashed, dispatching more and more of the ghostly enemy. Mikhan picked up the Emperor and thrust him, protesting, into the arms of a surprised junior officer.

"Take His Majesty to safety," commanded the Marshal.

"No!" protested Zenepha.

"You too," commanded Mikhan and, to his surprise, Djerana obeyed without a murmur.

"How many more of these bloody things are there?" Beginning to tire, Marcus swung his sword this way and that, dispatching more wraiths.

The world suddenly turned strange again and everyone felt something like a shockwave pass. When Marcus next opened his eyes, the wraiths were gone.

***

Invisible to the untrained eye, Grayar peered around. The tent before him contained the portal, as the wraiths emanated from it in a continuous stream. The soldiers stood well back from the tents, presumably commanded to stay there. He doubted they needed much encouragement. He moved closer and eased his way inside, wary of traps.

The portal shimmered like water and the wraiths streamed from it. Grayar recognized the man beside the portal, though nothing marked the boundary between it and air. Tall, with iron-gray hair and deep blue eyes, Dervra seemed to direct the wraiths, despite the latter's reputation of being uncontrollable. Grayar was still invisible, but Dervra turned his head, looked directly at him and smiled.

Dervra clapped his hands. Portal and wraiths disappeared in a soundless explosion, a blinding flash of nothing. Grayar swayed with the suddenness of the move and shook his head to clear it. When the colors of the world returned to normal, his shield had gone. He had lost control of the Gift, his power useless to him.

"Good morning Grayar." Dervra smiled, his sibilant voice grating on the other's nerves. "I expected you or Sandev."

Grayar stared. How had Dervra trapped him? How?

"Of course, I called forth the wraiths to bring you here. Hingast believes it was to aid him in taking Marka."

Grayar heard Hingast's men give their battle cries as they charged towards Marka's gates. The shouting failed to mask the creaking of war machines as they trundled forward. And nobody could mistake the sound of the mangonels releasing their projectiles.

"Why must you always back the losing side, Dervra? You could be magnificent, but instead you choose to crawl in the dirt with scum who seek only to destroy."

The other man's smile grew wider. "As defiant as ever. Five hundred years since we last met and you haven't changed at all. Not adapted even a little bit."

"You tried to destroy Skorin."

Dervra inclined his head. "Only your image of it."

"I know Nicolfer is in the city. Be careful she does not try to usurp you." Grayar had now worked out how Dervra managed to block him from the Gift. Even better, he'd found a weak point to work around.

"Nicolfer and I are partners; do not try to drive a wedge between us." Dervra's eyes glittered. "Am I not magnanimous, Grayar? You came here to kill me, yet I still allow you to live."

It was Grayar's turn to smile. "I only came here to stop you."

"Stop me?"

"To close the portal."

"Which I opened to bring you to me."

Thudding crashes preceded screams among the field, which meant that Marka's mangonels had found both range and targets. Though violence and war saddened him, that Marka fought back pleased Grayar.

"You'll never win," said Grayar, hoping to draw something out of the other man. Any piece of information that might help. "The Father –"

"The Father?" spat Dervra. "I'm winning now. Soon Marka will be no more and your puppet sylph will be replaced by the true Emperor of Marka. And your precious _Siranva_ will stand by and do nothing."

"You believe Hingast is the true claimant?" Grayar snorted.

"Yes, Hingast. You know his pedigree."

"Through a bastard line."

Dervra giggled, a strange sound. "Birth out of wedlock is not the problem in Marka that it is in Skorin and neither is descent through the female line."

Grayar smiled. "You'd better check the legal records again," he said. "There's a reason why the Vintners usurped the Goldeagles. And Hingast failed to convince the Senate of the validity of his claim. So it has no validity."

"Many Senators support him." Dervra's smile broadened. "Many."

"Not enough."

The sounds of battle from outside increased: shouts and screams filled the air and the rhythmic thud of missiles fired from mangonels intensified. Thankfully, the tents were out of range. Even so, Grayar began to wonder if his friends might not kill him before his enemy.

***

"Get those rockets up here!" yelled Marcus Vintner, spotting the cart as it brought the new weapons to the walls. "Move!" He grabbed the nearest sylph scout, one of the new partly trained sylphs from Marka. "Whistle across the way; find out what Kestan and his men are up to and report back to me." He wished he'd kept Belaika at his side, but his scout would be deployed elsewhere by now.

The young sylph, eyes wide, nodded. " _Se bata_."

Zenepha and Djerana remained below the walls, to help the soldiers where possible. When Marcus next glanced down, he saw the Emperor inspecting the new weapons as they were loaded onto the mangonels. On the walls, carpenters took the wheels off the wooden frames from which the rockets would be fired. They had been craned into position yesterday.

The young sylph returned. "I cannot raise Kestan- _ya_ or any sylphs out there, _donenya_ ," he squeaked. "Too much noise."

Marcus sighed. He risked killing his own men when the rockets were launched. "Send this: imperative you disengage enemy and fall back. Keep trying, one of the scouts out there might catch it."

The sylph nodded again and pattered back to his position, whistling the new orders.

Mikhan glanced at the rockets as the men carrying them struggled past. He sniffed disparagingly. "I hope they're useful," he grunted. "They'll strike fear into the enemy but once."

"Once is enough," retorted Marcus. He shook his head. "I hoped to be out of here before harvest; I think we can forget that now." He watched dispassionately as a group of Hingast's men reached the city wall with a scrambling ladder and were cut down by archers. Screams of the wounded assaulted his hearing; many of the partly trained sylphs had tucked their earpoints away, which reduced their usefulness as scouts and messengers. Fortunately, there were enough battle-hardened sylphs here to keep messages flowing. The new boys would toughen up eventually. At least none had run away today.

"There won't be much left of the harvest for Hingast to use." Kestan had been ordered to destroy as many crops as possible when it became obvious that the siege would drag on. No point in allowing food to fall into enemy hands.

Marcus turned to the young sylph again. This one's earpoints were not tucked away, a good sign. "Managed to get anyone?" he asked.

"No acknowledgment." The sylph grimaced.

"You tried." He must risk casualties on his own side. "What's your name, boy?"

The scout blinked. "Fhionnen- _y_ -Neffas."

Marcus nodded. "Stay close to me, Fhionnen."

" _Se bata_."

Marcus turned again and raised a questioning eyebrow at the men working on the rockets.

"Just give the word, sire," one of them growled.

Mikhan shrugged. "May as well get it over."

Marcus turned to Fhionnen. "General command: loose rockets, loose catapults."

The scout nodded and, earpoints twitching wildly in excited pride, whistled the order. Marcus and Mikhan had already agreed that a quarter of the mangonels' wooden balls would be loosed at the enemy soldiers outside the walls, and that half of the available rockets would be fired at the enemy's war machines. The other rockets were aimed at Hingast's camp, to show he was no longer safely out of range. This should be impressive.

Slow-matches were put to the fuses of the rockets and the balls. The mangonels loosed first, set to all ranges. The explosions masked the whooshing of the rockets as they freed themselves from the wooden frameworks that held them prisoner. Sadly, not all reached their targets, but they added to the death, mayhem and confusion among enemy ranks.

Shouts and screams of terrified, injured men filled the air and almost all came from outside Marka's walls. Horns sounded and the enemy fell back, thankful to escape. A lot of corpses littered the ground between Hingast's camp and the walls. Wounded men crawled feebly in the dirt. Even better, the rockets had started many small fires, which more men tried to extinguish.

"Reload with green fire," commanded Mikhan, the message passed on by the sylphs. "Release when ready."

Marcus nodded, a huge grin splitting his face. Press home the attack; make the most of fear and confusion. Attack, attack, attack! He turned to Fhionnen. "Try to get Kestan now."

The sylph, eyes still bright with excitement, nodded and obeyed the command. "I have an acknowledgment, _donenya_ ," he called, a moment later.

"Command: operate under own initiative; harry the enemy."

Fhionnen nodded and whistled the order.

Marcus turned back to Mikhan. "I think we should try to coordinate our attacks with Lance Captain Kestan again." He should also promote the man to General; Kestan had performed superbly ever since the siege started. "We can risk opening the gates to launch attacks of our own against Hingast." He grinned. "With more rockets and exploding balls."

The old marshal returned the smile. "His Majesty will be pleased," he said. "Such a move will be good for morale."

***

"What is that?"

Dervra looked up as strange whooshing sounds and the noise of muffled explosions reached his ears.

Grayar shrugged. He stopped feeling for a way to smash through the strands of sorcery that held him prisoner. If he read this situation aright...

Dervra turned back to his captive, eyes ablaze. "You've given them the secret of gunpowder!"

"Nonsense," retorted the other. "They discovered it themselves."

"So you were aware of its presence before now."

The explosions sounded louder, nearer. Men driven back from the walls of Marka by the rockets began to regroup.

"I knew they were tinkering with nitrates." Grayar was aware of rapidly approaching danger, though he heard nothing. A rocket had this tent for its target.

Dervra narrowed his eyes at his enemy. He, too, was aware of imminent danger. "Another time," he hissed. Unable to hold his prisoner and escape, he chose life and freedom.

Thankful for release, Grayar projected himself to Sandev's villa just as the missile tore through the fabric of the tent, setting fire to it.

He stood, aware of the surprised stares of two sylphs, both rubbing their arms. Salu, his own sylph, recovered first and smiled uncertainly.

" _Enya_?"

"I'm fine," replied Grayar, tersely. His attention turned to Caya. "I would like to speak with your Mistress. Now, please."

***

Janin- _y_ -Sandev looked at his tray in dismay. There had been no announcement, but he knew the rations had been cut yet again. The three vegetables that caused his disappointment looked shriveled and well past their best. The meager scrap of choca – rumored to be a gift from Zenepha, doled out as "reward" for his part in the battle – was already gone. No sylph allowed choca to remain uneaten any longer than necessary. He looked around the scouts' refectory for somewhere to sit.

Unspoken agreement and an invisible wall divided the dining hall. Those scouts who had marched into the city with Marcus Vintner occupied one corner, while sylphs who had joined the corps in Marka used the rest of the hall.

Janin knew that the other sylphs had not fully accepted the newcomers, which included himself. The Calcan scouts regarded them as not even partly trained. He had heard – and was sick of hearing – that it took five years of hard training before a sylph should run with the army. The professional scouts were friendly, but kept their distance.

They called themselves _yenakula_ , or brotherhood, and referred to the newcomers as _senakul_ , or inferior brothers. A few of the city scouts were female, drawn from the ranks of former beggars. This went unremarked by the fully trained sylphs, but several of the Markan males were not quite so happy about it. Janin thought this must be a matter of upbringing, as he had no opinion on female scouts one way or the other. Everybody had to do what they could do best, for the survival of them all, or so the wild sylphs claimed. And he preferred to take a wild cousin's opinion over that of a pampered city boy. Not that any wild sylphs were here; they had all stayed outside the city. To judge from the state of the rations, probably the better side of the walls to be on.

The _senakul_ were keenly aware of this division, so Janin blinked in surprise when he saw one of the Vintner scouts wave to him as he looked up from his meager meal.

"Come and join us," called Bascon.

A moment later Janin stood beside the small table at which three sylphs were sat. Although he had picked his way carefully through the _yenakula_ corner of the hall, the gazes directed his way were friendlier than expected for one trespassing on another's territory. He grinned at Bascon and inclined his head to Belaika. The former was the oldest scout here and the other had the ear of the most powerful human in Marka. Only Zenepha ranked higher than Marcus Vintner.

"This is Tynrasa- _y_ -Fellon." Bascon introduced the third painted scout. "Tynrasa, this scruffy Markan boy is Janin- _y_ -Sandev."

Tynrasa's eyes widened a little and his earpoints gave a twitch. "You have an auspicious owner. Sit, boy. We are impressed by you."

Janin almost fell into his seat. They were _impressed_ by him?

"There are several new scouts we wish to see trained further once this siege is over." Belaika smiled at Janin's grimace as he mentioned training. "You are one of them."

"You are eager," added Bascon. "Not a coward and not lazy."

Belaika nodded his agreement. "When we were dismissed from the walls, many were ready to go back to bed. We still had work to do and you were one of the few who stayed with no need for a reminder."

"I am honored," stammered Janin. Looking around the tables, he now noticed several other Markans dotted among the Vintner scouts. "What will happen to the others?"

"Some will be returned to their owners," replied Bascon. "Without shame. They are eager, but not good enough for us. Others we cannot wait to see the back of. A few are welcome to continue their training, but we think most will fall by the wayside. We like what we see in the rest and that includes you."

Janin grinned, but his earpoints betrayed uncertainty.

"Until recently you were a street sylph," said Tynrasa. "You are tougher than most Markans, and will be tougher yet when we have finished with you."

"And it helps that we like you as well," grinned Bascon. "You will be one of us, Janin."

The younger sylph grinned and his earpoints twitched with pleasure. For the first time in his short life, he felt as though he truly belonged.

***

Lance Captain Kestan had a headache. He often did these days, with so much to juggle. He had only recently finished burning crops to keep them out of Hingast's hands and he must also continue his increasingly daring raids against the enemy. Sadly, he had lost good men – but thankfully no sylphs – during these attacks, but the number of soldiers killed and war machines destroyed on the other side gratified him.

As usual in the evening, he and Lance Lieutenant Dekran discussed their intelligence – almost all of it supplied by the sylphs – and the day's events.

"We'll have to move our base again," said Dekran. "It looks as though Hingast is moving his tents beyond the range of the rockets."

"That was an impressive demonstration. Shame nobody thought to tell us to get out of it before things got noisy. We were lucky to suffer no injuries. Scared the juices out of most of the lads."

"And the sylphs."

"The scouts claim a command was given, but nobody heard it until later." Kestan shrugged and turned to happier news. "Our numbers grow every time a patrol returns." The patrols Zenepha had sent out before the siege were now returning, met by sylph scouts who redirected them.

"Today might have gone horribly wrong," said Dekran. "I hope we learn from it."

Fully trained scouts now stiffened the wild sylphs, thanks to those already in the field when Hingast arrived. They were spread thinly as half traveled to relieve others or helped train the wild sylph scouts.

"There are only fourteen wild sylphs mature enough to be reliable in the field," continued Dekran. "Most are employed watching for new armies on the move."

"Plenty of reports of that." Kestan sighed.

"The army in Calcan hasn't moved yet. The reports still take days."

"The Sandester mob is moving though," said Kestan. "I suspect one of Mikhan's boys commands it."

"Or Tennen. I wonder what Nazvasta would think if he knew we had sylph scouts spying in his city."

"They won't still be there," pointed out Kestan. "They should be shadowing that army." Nazvasta, brother of the late Branad, was Steward in Sandester. His intentions were unknown, but nobody believed he would side with Hingast. Kestan changed the subject. "Any news of the patrol that delayed Hingast's reinforcements?"

"Nothing yet. Must be one of Branad's mob; no sylphs with it."

Scouts had reported on that attack. One of the patrols had found some of Hingast's reinforcements. The commander waited until nightfall, then fired most of its supplies and killed its horses.

"One of Branad's or not, I want to meet the officer in command. He thinks like we do."

"Rumors from the south are worrying." Dekran had convinced himself this remained the biggest potential threat.

"The trading Prefectures can't decide on a commander," pointed out Kestan.

"It's still a powerful army," countered Dekran. "We don't know its intentions."

"Ean- _y_ -Felis'll learn all we need to know."

"He isn't very experienced either." Dekran's tone was expressionless.

"But the best available," said Kestan. His tone suggested he did not want to go through these arguments again. "He's experienced enough not to make a fool of himself. If or when that army crosses the border with Marka, we'll practically know all we need instantly."

Dekran stood to leave. "We'll give Hingast a rest tonight. Those rockets were every bit as exciting for our boys as they were for his."

Kestan nodded. "See you in the morning."

Juggling tasks was not the only cause of his headache.

Aelfina claimed that the small infertile sylph who served him wanted to share her name. Despite this, she sidestepped every attempt he made to learn it. She'd given a vague promise to share her name when "the time is right."

Worse than courting, what part of sylph ritual was this?

The sylph in question poked her head around the tent divide. "Aelfina- _ya_ ," she announced without ceremony, though her eyes were unusually wide.

The wild sylphs had a secret, something that concerned Kestan, but Aelfina refused to share. There were whispered questions and, when he pressed the sylphs' leader about it, received little more than a smile in reply. Aelfina said only that he had something to discuss with every sylph. Kestan still wondered what that might be. Perhaps he and the small infertile were winding him up between them.

"Hello Aelfina." He dropped into his chair. "Come in and sit. Water?"

"Thank you, nothing." Aelfina came all the way into Kestan's quarters, smiled uncertainly and dropped onto his heels. "I have not come to visit."

"No?" The Lance Captain regarded the tall sylph with genuine fondness.

Aelfina's smile broadened. "We wish to see you in the clearing."

"Now?"

"All those who are not about their duties in the field are there." Aelfina's expression hinted that getting the wild sylphs together had been no easy task. "And those about their duties have already given their assent."

"All right." Kestan pulled himself upright and followed the tall male sylph out of his tent, heeled by the small infertile.

The assembled sylphs parted to allow Aelfina and Kestan through. The off-duty soldiers were also here, as even those who had been ignorant of the sylph language were now all but fluent in it. Most wild sylphs were also equally fluent in the human tongue, but rarely practiced it openly.

Aelfina turned and lifted his hands for silence, earpoints twitching. From the moment he opened his mouth, Kestan knew this would be a very special day.

"We have gathered to do what we have agreed. We of the _neculya_ _nebonda_ have not yet chosen a formal leader, nor somewhere to live."

_The Free Tribe?_ wondered Kestan.

Aelfina continued. "It is customary in our father tribes to elect a leader for life, before electing another. Sadly, we may never again find our fathers, so we must begin a new tribe. And who better to have as our leader but the one who found and melded us?"

All eyes turned to Kestan and he shifted, unused to being the center of attention. Those silvery gray eyes were... intent. A murmur ran through the assembly.

"I propose Kestan Taynor- _y_ - _nebonda_ to be our founding leader."

Kestan stared. Until now, he'd never realized the sylphs had granted him a sylphic name. Only the large sylph-owning families indulged themselves this way. He flushed as the chorus of approval swelled. He smiled and nodded his head, moving closer to Aelfina. He waited for silence and cleared his throat, wondering why it felt so constricted. He blinked back tears of pride. Why had they chosen a _human_ leader?

"I accept your great honor," he began, meaning that for name and title.

Their way ahead had got no easier and he knew better than most that some might die before they ever found somewhere to live. He firmed his voice and continued. He would serve these sylphs well, no matter what.

As the Free Tribe applauded his speech, Kestan paused. From behind, the infertile who served him leaned forward.

"My name," she whispered, "is Cian."

***

Nicolfer watched Tangan as he slept. The boy had improved at the killing game, though he could only be compelled when semi-conscious. Unfortunately, he always came fully awake at the moment he killed and his reactions were typically sylph. She could compel the human part of him on one level, but his consciousness was almost purely sylph and overruled everything once awake. In all likelihood, the stress of her manipulations shortened his life expectancy. As an assassin, Tangan would be useful for one kill only. Fortunately, she wanted nothing more from him.

She had successfully used compulsion without being in the same room only once before and, until very recently, she had to touch him for it to work. She left the room with its sleeping sylph and stood to one side of the corridor. She called with her mind.

Tangan, Tangan! Time to wake, time to kill. Come Tangan, come. The one you must kill is downstairs. Wake Tangan, time to kill.

Eyes blank, earpoints tucked away as if their owner still slept – Nicolfer felt certain the sylph part of him _was_ asleep, or not even this would work – Tangan left the room. He turned left out of the door and headed for the staircase. He did not see Nicolfer. She followed the sylph cautiously, a small smile turning her lips as she watched the boy. He moved slowly, more like a human than a sylph. The human part must be the more primitive. Those who had first wrought the sylphs had done their job well. The trouble she'd had unlocking the boy! She wondered if the old pure sylphs had been killers. Probably not, to judge from Tangan's resistance to her. But she had succeeded. Almost, anyway.

Tangan paused at the door to the room below his own. Slowly, he pushed it open and Nicolfer moved quickly before it closed again. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom and she smiled as she made out the shape of her prisoner.

Not one of her people, but a potential threat to her security. He would be useful for a few moments only. Soundly asleep, he did not know he would die tonight.

Tangan stepped forward. He could see of course, his eyes had adjusted far more quickly than her own. She saw his arm lift, then drop. A dull thud, a grunt from the target cut short. Nicolfer felt satisfaction. The boy had killed again.

Tangan came fully awake.

"Noooooooo!" The sylph dropped the knife, fell to his knees and repeated his scream. He bowed his head to the ground, and drew breath.

"Enough of that," commanded Nicolfer.

The compulsion did not work this time. Tangan howled, earpoints bolt upright, eyes as wide as they could go. Nicolfer grasped his leather collar and twisted, which at least cut off the air supply to the boy's lungs. The sylph struggled and eventually lay limp. Nicolfer relaxed her grip; she had no wish to kill him.

"Back to the cellar, my boy," she told the semi-conscious sylph. "You can wail all you like down there."

Nicolfer half dragged and half led Tangan from the chamber to the cellar. There, she chained him by an ankle as the boy started to come round. Nicolfer looked down at him.

"I'll leave the crystal uncovered," she said, voice compassionate. "I know you fear the dark after doing your duty." She touched him. "Well done."

Eyes wide and earpoints laid back against his head, Tangan flinched.

As she closed and locked the heavy door, he began to scream again. If only she could find a way to prevent all this noise! She had no wish to mutilate him, which was the only way she could think of to keep him silent. It did not matter. So long as he killed the once, nothing else mattered.

Grayar or Sandev. "One of you is mine," she whispered. "And the other is dead." She snorted with laughter and returned to the dead man. Sorcery would dispose of the corpse easily enough.

***

Belaika wandered the streets of Marka and tried to look as though he was on duty. Obeying his orders, he hunted for Nicolfer. Thanks to a lack of moon, only other sylphs could see him, unless someone came close enough to see his eyes, glowing silver in the faint starlight.

An unusual quiet hung over Marka. Hingast's evening bombardment had not yet started and soldiers gathered at the gates. The troops were probably part of his owner's idea of night raids and at least gave him some cover. Shadows moved along the walls, where soldiers and scouts kept watch. Others patrolled the streets, but these were easily spotted and avoided. He must work alone; his brother scouts would want to help and he could not put them at risk.

He had no intention of putting himself at risk, either.

All sylphs felt sorcery's use, but few could identify the feeling. A lonely responsibility. His earpoints pricked upright.

He had heard something out of place. A scream? Sylph, not human. He turned slowly to stare at the building looming above him. One of the quieter streets of Marka, Belaika stepped further into a shadow. He hoped the noise would repeat itself. It had definitely come from the building opposite. He caught a flicker of light behind one of the windows. Wrapped in silence, he waited.

The scream did not repeat itself.

Then, he felt it. Faint, unmistakable. Sorcery, for a few moments, but still sorcery. Belaika stared hard at the building and memorized its location. He would return in daylight, for a better look. Only then would he report.

A figure standing well back from the window watched him go.

***
**Chapter 22**

Treachery

Surrounded by advisors and commanders, Hingast scowled from the head of the table. "So you believe this... firepowder... is of limited value."

Dervra shook his head. "I believe the enemy has a limited supply. They can't get the raw materials for making much more of it. What little they have left will be less effective the next time they use it."

"Less effective?" spluttered General Hanan, his pale blue eyes flashing. "This new weapon routed the army! They broke and ran. Ran!"

Dervra leaned forward. "Now we are all aware of it, I'm sure your men will be less frightened of it next time." His mouth twisted into a semblance of a smile. "They should know discipline in battle keeps most of them alive. Running away from loud bangs does not win wars."

Hingast tapped the table to wrest control from Dervra. "They must make this powder somewhere in the city," he said. "Can our people discover the location of the manufactory?"

"We're working on it." Dervra spoke smoothly, though he directed a venomous gaze at Hanan. "We aim to capture it and those who work there, for our advantage. There was too little left of the weapons for us to discover precisely what the enemy is using against us. Once we do, we can make our own powder."

"I approve." Hingast turned to Marshal Janost. "And the other thorns? The armies from Sandester and Calcan?"

Janost smiled. "Not too many pigeons have found their way here, but we have gleaned some intelligence from contacts. The army from Calcan is not large; about a thousand men commanded by Marcus Vintner Elder. They're some weeks away and might turn back once they learn how strong we are."

"Can we ask our Re Tauran friends to create a diversion?" asked Hingast.

Dervra winced. Re Taura provided his reserve plan. "Nijen assures me Re Taura will not be ready for another year," he lied.

"Pity," said Janost. "Because more worrying for us is the force from Sandester. We have no idea how large it is, and Nazvasta has pulled troops in from everywhere to form it. Field Captains Paul Tennen and Drecan Annada command."

"Son and son-in-law of Mikhan Annada." Hingast drew his breath in sharply over his teeth. "It would have to be those two. What about the other Annada boy?"

"Not with this army," continued Janost, "but he has recently married. Perhaps they've allowed him to remain at home."

"A small blessing," grunted Dervra. "Those boys know the work. Tennen and Annada have real skill."

Hingast nodded. "A pity we can't get them on our side."

"That is why I diverted General Mirrin's column to intercept." Janost's deep blue eyes twinkled with amusement. "Should be an interesting meeting; Mirrin is no stranger to the work either."

"You've heard more?" Dervra's voice was quiet.

"Yes, if a little closer to us." Janost nodded. "The enemy troops outside the walls of Marka can communicate with the city. It goes both ways, with orders coming out, and intelligence going in. It's been going on since the beginning."

"The sylphs?" Hingast's eyes narrowed.

"Ours can hear theirs whistling to each other," said Hanan. "Unfortunately, none of them know where to begin trying to decipher what the whistles mean."

"And our code breakers can't hear them to have a go either." Dervra nodded. "The use of sylphs is ingenious, to say the least. Sylph scouts. Small raiding groups of soldiers, acting outside the usual rules of war. Attacks on us mounted from inside Marka itself. Exploding balls. Ships of the air. We must salute Marcus Vintner for his surprises. He may have more for us yet."

"Unless he dies first." Hingast smiled. "Nothing can interfere with our plan."

Hanan spoke up. "We're coordinating our spies in the city. We must now concentrate our effort on the North Gate. Encourage the enemy to reinforce that gate, and, when he has, this is what we will do..."

Dervra paid close attention. Nobody made suggestions; the plan sounded good.

***

While Caya and Salu clattered about brewing alovak, their owners relaxed into easy chairs in the study. Sandev settled into hers with an audible sigh. She looked increasingly haggard, almost as bad as the sylphs. The infertiles took their time with the task as the lack of food took its toll. Grayar cleared his throat.

"We have Dervra on the outside and Nicolfer on the inside. Two against two."

"I know." Sandev sighed. She looked carefully at her companion, wondering if his anger had subsided. That gunpowder had found its way into the world failed to impress him. She must have voiced her concern aloud.

"They call it firepowder now." Grayar fixed his companion with a steely gaze, then softened his expression. "If you say you did not know, then I believe you." He shook his head. "I wouldn't put it past Dervra if he told Hingast how to make the stuff. We must be careful, or humankind will tread exactly the same path as before."

"I fear it will anyway." Her sapphire eyes were sad. "We can't prevent progress, or limit human inventiveness. I wish we could." When he heard the rest of it, he would be angry again.

"We must channel that inventiveness more constructively," insisted Grayar. He glanced across the books lining the walls and shook his head. "To more practical matters. We must deal with Dervra and Nicolfer. He held me in some sort of block and I could do nothing to escape until he released me."

"I've never come across that before. The blocking, I mean." It was Sandev's turn to give her head a small shake of exasperation. "Let's hope nobody but Dervra can use it until we find a way around it."

"Small hope. He shares everything with Nicolfer."

Yet another clatter from the kitchen caught their attention and Grayar looked towards the door in concern. "Are they all right through there?"

"Of course."

"All the domestic sylphs are on the verge of starvation. We cannot allow that to happen, so we may have to smuggle food into the city using the Gift."

Sandev grimaced. "There aren't enough Gifted in Marka able to use physical projection." This brought the talk to touchy areas. Grayar would be angry, but would he see it as betrayal? She must tell him the full truth. "There is something I must ask of you. A favor that looks like cowardice."

"You? A coward?" Grayar chuckled. "Ask."

"I must go to Cadister. Or you can go, if you wish."

"The city Cadister?"

Sandev nodded.

"Why?"

"The endgame is near; Hingast's final assault will begin in days, and there is something in Cadister I need here now, not in three weeks." Sandev sighed. "Neither of us can carry it here with the Gift alone, not even working together. And one of us must remain here, or the city folk will think we have deserted them. Morale would then collapse."

Grayar's eyes narrowed. "You prefer me to go. What is it?"

A gurgle from the clepsydra interrupted the short silence.

Sandev's sapphire eyes were thoughtful. "You'll need an aid to help carry it. Would the ilvenstone work?"

"The ilvenstone must stay where it is." Grayar's eyes hardened. "And I still don't know what this thing is."

"You cannot move it by yourself. There is another way." Sandev opened her desk, removed an object from it and pushed it across to her companion.

Anger and outrage shone in Grayar's eyes. "We agreed that these must be deactivated and destroyed!" He looked up. "Why have you got a focus?"

"I collected as many of them as I could lay hands on." Sandev looked apologetic and determined at the same time. "I knew a time would come when they would be needed. Do you think it was an easy or light decision to keep them?"

Grayar held up a hand. "We _all_ agreed that they must be destroyed. Too much potential power to handle safely. Too many nasty surprises. _Why_?"

"It wasn't easy. I kept them empty. I only started charging them once Hingast was on his way. In case I had to move everybody out of Marka." She shook her head. "I failed in that, there aren't enough ready. But you could take twenty. Enough to move what we need."

"Any other agreements you've decided to ignore?"

"Grayar! I did this because I had no choice. Not for my own gain, but for Marka. For the good of her people."

Grayar relented, but suspicion lingered in his eyes. "All right. Tell me what you want. What is this thing you need me to move? You must promise to care for Salu for me while I'm gone. If your word can be trusted. And when I return, we will have words about broken agreements and evil things that are done in the name of the greater good."

Sandev leaned forward and began to explain what she wanted. As he listened, Grayar's harsh expression softened and finally turned into a delighted smile.

***

Caya answered the door to Belaika's insistent knock. She blinked and looked him over with just a hint of distaste. Since Janin had joined the corps, she had grown a little more tolerant than before of the scouts. Even so, she still did not fully open the door.

"I am Belaika- _y_ -Marcus, here to see Grayar."

Caya sniffed. That the boy belonged to Marcus failed to impress. "Grayar- _ya_ is not here, but you can see _anya_."

Belaika nodded.

Caya swung the door further open to let the scout in and pointed to a spot on the floor, away from the rugs. "You wait there." Another thought came to her. "Touch nothing."

" _Se bata_."

The female sylph looked for mockery and finally shrugged. She padded away after a final accusing glance and moments later, Sandev appeared.

"Belaika. Come straight through."

"Only a quick visit, _donanya_."

"Come through anyway."

Belaika looked quickly around the study before he turned to face Sandev. "Grayar- _ya_ tasked me to look for Nicolfer."

"He told me. You've found her?"

Belaika nodded. "I can take you there now."

Sandev steepled her fingers. "I'll deal with Nicolfer in my time. Tell me where she's hiding."

"Three-story villa on Salter's Lane. It is the only one with eight windows on the front and no gargoyles for water drains."

"I hope you weren't seen."

"No." It sounded like _of course not._ "I felt sorcery there. I did not see her, but the feeling was strong." He turned as Salu padded into the room with alovak for Sandev. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the scout. "Will you pass the message to Grayar- _ya_?"

Sandev waited until Salu left before speaking. "I will probably deal with her myself. Grayar has an important mission elsewhere. He is not here."

Belaika said nothing.

"Thank you for coming, Belaika. I'm sure your owner will be told of your good work."

The sylph paused. "Forgive me if I am forward, but have you heard anything more about Kelanus- _ya_?"

"Not yet." Sandev smiled. "Relax. No news is good news."

" _Se bata_."

When the scout left, Sandev sat and thought. Salter's Lane. And what was taking Sernan so long about a few disappeared sylphs? Couldn't he even _find_ those who had accused Kelanus? One thing at a time. Nicolfer. Sandev began to make plans.

***

"What do you mean, Grayar's gone?"

Marcus Vintner's dark blue eyes conveyed displeasure and even Jenn, until now comfortably asleep at her owner's feet, opened her eyes and twitched her earpoints. She didn't move; her food rations were still poor and she resisted all unnecessary physical activity.

Belaika shrugged. "When I reported to Sandev, she told me he had left on an important mission."

General Ranallic smiled, but his dark, slanted eyes pointedly ignored the sylph at Marcus's feet and he only glanced at the scout. "I doubt if Grayar has abandoned us, because he left his sylph behind. And the ilven is still here."

"Only a coward would abandon a sylph and an ilven," said the scout.

"And I doubt if Siranva would have chosen cowards as members of the Ten," added Ranallic.

"He chose two who would betray him," said Marcus. Even so, he relaxed a little. He did not think Grayar had run out on them. Anyway, the man belonged to the Ten, and could act as he wished. Surely he would not abandon his sylph – and still less an ilven – to Hingast's not-so-tender mercy?

Belaika and Jenn looked up moments before a dull thudding reached the humans' ears. Marcus snarled at the ceiling.

"Our friends have begun early this evening." Ranallic's voice was calm.

"They're beginning to anticipate our raids," said Marcus.

"Using green fire from the sound of it." Ranallic cocked his head to one side. "North Gate. I wonder who told Hingast that's the weaker one? Marshal Mikhan wants to move more than one-third of the men from the other gate to help defend it. But I dissuaded him."

"Why?" Marcus spoke quietly. Mikhan and Ranallic were not the best of friends, but keeping a gate weak seemed like foolishness to him. Especially if the only reason for it was pride.

"Because it is a feint. The South Gate is the real target."

Belaika gave the southlander a neutral look.

"Considering nobody has fought Hingast before this siege began, you seem to know a lot about the man's tactics." Marcus kept his voice even.

Ranallic glowered. "I read a lot. Hingast has written no books, but Mirrin has published several pamphlets. _On Cities_ is his best."

"I'd like to take a look at some of these pamphlets."

"I'm more concerned right now about the North Gate, just in case I'm wrong and it isn't a feint." Ranallic's eyes glittered.

"Then you'd best return," suggested Marcus. "I'll come with you. Belaika." Jenn gave only the mildest of muffled protests as her owner patted her head on his way to the door. She quickly settled down again.

Belaika heeled his owner, ready to pass messages.

Outside, the whizz of green fire as it landed in the city, and the crumping thud of rocks intended to destroy buildings, sounded more clearly. The duty scout at the palace looked up as the small group approached.

"Warn them at the North Gate that we're coming," commanded Marcus.

The sylph nodded and stepped outside to formulate and send his high-pitched whistle.

Marcus and Ranallic hurried through the streets. Several fires had started under the assault and most were busy fighting the flames. Neither man had any wish to interfere. Belaika led the way where the streets were darker. As they neared the North Gate, the scout showed signs of agitation.

"What's wrong?" asked Marcus. Ranallic had ignored the scout's discomfort.

"The gate is being attacked."

Before long, the two humans also heard the rhythmic thudding of swords on shields, the sharp release as archers loosed their arrows, screams and battle cries.

"It can never wait until I'm there," snarled Ranallic, breaking into a run.

Marcus winked at his sylph. "Let's see how Ranallic handles our enemy before we return to the palace."

" _Se bata_."

Cheers met Marcus as he reached the walls, mostly from his own soldiers, though not as many cheered him as shouted for Zenepha whenever the sylph came. The sight beyond the walls terrified him. Thankfully, there were no more wraiths, but the army arrayed without was awesome. The scouts had not reported more joining Hingast, so Marcus assumed his opponent had reinforced his troops at this end at the expense of the other.

He caught up with Ranallic. "Where is Kestan?"

"Harrying the southern end and the flanks," replied Ranallic. "Mikhan will be sending lads out from the South Gate to help them. And hopefully draw some of these away. Feint or not, they push hard."

Marcus nodded, satisfied with the answer.

Cheering swelled up behind the walls which suggested that the Emperor was not too far away. Marcus turned to stare beyond the walls, watching as archers from among the troops below him claimed casualties from among his men. They took losses themselves as the defenders launched their own arrows. The soldiers below were briefly illuminated as more green fire from Hingast's war machines headed into the city. He turned back just as the cheering reached a crescendo behind him.

"Majesty." Marcus's mouth tightened as he saw Djerana stood beside Zenepha. He was vaguely aware of a horn sounding beyond the walls and the cheering intensified.

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 knew 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.

"What'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.

"Majesty, you should not have come," he said, shaking his head sadly.

Zenepha's mouth dropped open as the City Guardsmen within the hall turned on the men of his personal guard; moments later, two were dead and three disarmed. Djerana pushed her hands over her mouth but could not prevent a horrified scream.

"All right." Lanas turned, a sword appearing in his hand. "Against one wall. Move!"

Not everybody moved. The nine senators of Lanas's inner sanctum, the nine men Zenepha had allowed the former Senate Leader to choose himself, stood firmly behind the Principal Chancellor. Zenepha blinked in surprise when he saw that Senator Maben, who had always stood for Hingast, was among the prisoners, while Senator Taylon, who demanded a Republic, stood with Lanas.

Zenepha refused to be cowed. "Senator Lanas," he began, "I hope you can explain this treason."

***

Sergeant Ryen called out the evening roster at the North Gate command post. Scout after scout received his detail and, now dismissed, melted away to his task. One of the many Sergeants involved in training the new scouts, Ryen had proved himself firm, yet very fair. Forgiving of errors and rarely raising his voice, every sylph felt any failure somehow let him down. He had become a father figure to many of the former beggars who were now scouts, and more than one hoped he might offer them a collar.

Before long, only Janin remained. Ryen gave him a knowing look.

"Off you go," said the human. "You've already been given your task."

" _Se bata_." Janin knew better than to question how his owner had managed to get her own way; she had doubtless used her influence to ensure he kept the task she had given him.

He hoped for an easy night as he watched the command post where Zenepha attended a meeting. The whistles warning of imminent attack reached his ears, but he waited patiently.

Realizing Zenepha was about to leave the command post, he stiffened. Moments later, the Emperor sat in the armored carriage and headed towards Senate Square.

Strange. Janin knew Zenepha usually stayed with the soldiers at the walls during an attack. He walked quickly out of sight as the carriage left. Heeding Sandev's warning to be discreet, he ran along a parallel road, avoiding the risk of being spotted trailing the carriage.

This street was not one of Marka's wealthiest, but the scout had long since accepted that riches and poverty often lived side by side. He deftly avoided small shadows on the paved road that would emit a noxious odor should he step on them; a moment later, fear and panic welled.

Managing to restrain his squeal, he dodged the worst of the dust as the two buildings collapsed in the next street. He hoped nobody was hurt, then felt a flash of terror as he wondered if Zenepha had been caught in the rubble. Fright vanished when he glimpsed the carriage once again. He reached the final corner and paused.

He waited until the Emperor entered the coronation building before he ambled carefully across Senate Square. He made no effort to conceal himself, but the guards failed to spot him until he climbed the steps to the coronation building.

"Halt!"

Janin failed to recognize the guard's accent, but obviously not of Marka. Nothing wrong in that; the city was very cosmopolitan, but the voice sounded familiar. Unimportant, compared with his task.

"I have a message for His Majesty," he squeaked, hardly able to contain his fear. His earpoints twitched and he prayed fervently to the Father that this guard did not understand the significance of sylph ear movements.

The guard was still suspicious. "This is supposed to be a secret session. How do you know he's here?"

"He has just arrived from the command center," replied the sylph. "I must speak with him."

"He cannot be disturbed."

" _Se alut batut_." Janin added a hint of a whine, trying to wheedle his way in.

The guards exchanged a look, as if to say that one more or less made no difference, before the first man nodded. "In you go then."

Janin had never been in this building before and didn't know his way around. He first entered the Senate and this probably saved his life. The deserted room almost spooked him, but sound floated down from the public gallery and the scout looked for a way up to it. He grinned when he discovered the stairway to the gallery and moments later, poked his head slightly above the balustrade so he could see into Coronation Hall. Instinct rather than reason suggested he might like to move carefully.

His eyes widened when he saw the prisoners and only just stopped a gasp when he spotted corpses on the floor. It would never do to get caught now. This was why Sandev had asked him to keep an eye on His Majesty! Message; he must whistle a message.

The guards outside must be part of it, so he doubted if he could leave as easily as he had entered. Roof, he must get to the roof. He moved as silently as possible out of the public gallery and back to the mezzanine, looking for another stairway leading up.

He climbed two more floors before seeing he could go no further. There was no way up onto the roof from inside. Of course, humans in Marka had roofs to keep out rainwater and tended to resent cutting holes in them. Nothing for it but the window.

Swinging out of the nearest, Janin glanced down, realizing just how far up he had come. Strangely, it looked to be a longer drop down than it appeared when staring up at the roof from the ground. He got both hands on the ironwork above the window and thanked the Father that sylphs were much lighter than humans.

He scrabbled for a hold with his feet, then pulled himself onto the wall, rolled over the top and landed with a soft thud in the stone gutter. It still held a good deal of heat from the day. He shook his head and blinked several times, adjusting to the dark. Thankfully, his sylphic eyesight easily penetrated the shadows on the roof and he made his way toward the ridge tiles carefully. He could not fall far from here, at worst to the gutter. The wall tops would prevent a longer fall to certain injury or worse below. Not that he feared falling; sylphs were nimble as alley cats. He swung one leg across the ridge and took a deep breath.

The ferocity of the attack had faded a little, green fire still landed in the city, but no more rocks were being hurled in. He began to whistle to all within range that Zenepha was a prisoner in the Coronation Hall. Acknowledgments came before his whistle got repeated.

Moments later, another urgent message replaced it.

The warning whistle came from Kestan's wild sylphs outside the city, a sighting report that enemy soldiers poured around the walls to the South Gate. Scouts all around repeated the whistle. Even Janin repeated it, but he soon returned to his original report. The Emperor was a prisoner. He struggled to his feet as he saw shadowy figures running along the main road, keeping to the shadows, probably invisible to human observers, but not to Janin. His mouth dried as he recognized a trick of Petan's walk.

He formed yet another whistle, this one a warning to the depleted defenders of the South Gate.

***

Marlen's pale blue eyes flashed as he ran through yet another guardsman at the South Gate. Around and behind, more men fought and killed Markan soldiers, giving and expecting no quarter. Petan, together with the men who had been concealed around the city, had finally come out of hiding to break open the South Gate. This had always been the plan for ending the siege.

His archers scythed down everybody on the walls, including a couple of sylphs who tried to whistle a warning.

Another sylph appeared, dodging and weaving his way through the attack. Marlen's sword blurred in the air, the blow not giving the unfortunate scout time to scream. He expected to see more scouts, but the creatures were neither warriors nor stupid. They had either run away or made themselves scarce once Marlen's attack began. Or perhaps been sent away with most of the other soldiers.

Marlen was certain that his presence had already been whistled everywhere. Hence the defensive maneuver of destroying two buildings to slow down any Markan rally.

Petan and a few others, to huge cheering from outside, swung the gates open and Hingast's men swarmed into the city. More archers entered first, firing at everything that moved with a deadly hail of crossbow bolts, followed by longbow arrows. The attackers increased their hold on the city as more and more men poured through the gate.

Hingast and Dervra entered with Marshal Janost and Kanad Tanur, though Marlen knew the civilian only by reputation. Hingast glanced down at the corpses; his gaze lingered a little longer on the dead sylph, but they held no more pity than for the dead humans.

"Your Majesty." Marlen bowed to Dervra, but Hingast assumed otherwise. "The sylph pretend Emperor is secure within the coronation building."

Hingast smiled. "Excellent. Let us go there immediately." He turned to his companions. "I do not even have to hunt him down." His voice held a hint of disappointment, but the rest of his emotion was pure satisfaction.

***
**Chapter 23**

A General Once More

"We draw closer to him every day. He's waiting for you."

Tahena and Kelanus stood together in the eyes of the ship. They stared at the dark smudge on the horizon that Tefric assured them was Cadister. The ship had found a good wind and spray arced away from her bow as she cut her way through the waves. None came over the rail; only rarely under sail did they "ship a green", as Cloudy termed it. Another vessel – a fishing boat out of Cadister – stood across their path, but her intentions were not yet known. The smaller boat struggled through the rough waves, unlike the considerably larger _Flying Cloud_.

Their journey home had proved uneventful, the only surprising moment coming when Kytra smiled and nodded to Kelanus. Forced out of her shell by interacting with _Flying Cloud_ 's officers as well as her own, she had to speak sometimes. Even so, the sylph with the permanently damaged earpoint rarely said much, but Kelanus was privately overjoyed that she no longer regarded every human male with round eyes as a threat.

Tahena's efforts to heal Kytra's earpoint were less than successful. It had more movement now, for which the sylph was grateful, but could still hardly be described as maneuverable. The sylph had masked most of her distaste at having the Gift used on her but, sadly for the healer, the damage had been left too long. Tahena doubted if any touch-header could do much more to help.

The two ship sylphs spent a lot of time together, which was hardly surprising as both sylphs and life elementals were firm friends. One had much to learn from the other, both in handling a ship the size and complexity of _Flying Cloud_ , and about the waters further north. The elemental inhabiting Kytra had not been in northern waters for more than a century and though she remembered some, much fine detail had been forgotten.

When the ship sylphs were not together, Cloudy joined Neptarik or Tefric. Kytra spent her time learning more about those destined to crew her next ship. She bonded very well with Kaniko, the Sailing Master destined for the new _Velvet Moon_ , and already furiously defended her people against the more experienced _Flying_ _Cloud_ 's company.

The officers and men had initially struggled with unfamiliar methods of sailing and were completely alien to the concept of rowing a ship of this size, but they were fast learners and already excelled in many skills. They even had a thing or two to teach their new colleagues.

Neptarik, already a firm member of the many card schools in operation aboard _Flying Cloud_ , also joined those the newcomers set up, making new friends among the southern crew. Much to Tahena's disgust, the small sack in which the scout kept his winnings soon grew too full for the drawstrings to tie up properly. The scout pestered one of the sailmakers to make him a new one, offering a fat silver coin in payment.

And yet, even the least bright could see Neptarik's unhappiness. He almost mutinied when he realized the ship would not call at Beshar. Despite everything Cloudy said to persuade him otherwise, he remained convinced that his owner's body was buried in Beshar. Prone to long periods of gloomy introspection, the scout had crossed to Kelanus to say something more than once, only to change his mind at the last moment.

Now, Neptarik stood further along the ship from Kelanus and Tahena, staring at the waves.

"Is it me, or can I smell autumn in the air?"

Neptarik looked up as Grenard, _Flying Cloud_ 's Master's Mate, joined him at the rail.

"It is colder," agreed the sylph.

"Perhaps autumn has come early this year; it does sometimes."

The sylph shrugged and waggled his earpoints. There was nothing to be said, so he said nothing, in customary sylph fashion.

"Or perhaps we feel it more easily, returning from a warmer climate." Grenard smiled. "Perhaps it is that. I know the first crops will be harvested about now."

Neptarik grinned. Crops were harvested later in the year in Calcan; though his adopted home city lay no further north than Marka, Calcan's climate differed, as it stood on the coast. Cadister and Marka harvested two crops in good years, Calcan just one.

Having failed to get much of a reaction, Grenard tried a different tack. "Looking forward to getting your feet on the dry again? You've held your courage well; most sylphs hate being away from the land."

Neptarik's polite smile widened. "Yes, I look forward to land again."

Grenard kept his eye on the fishing vessel stood directly in their path. He turned to the helmsman, but had no need to say anything.

_Flying Cloud_ altered course just enough to avoid the nets trawling behind the fisherman and Neptarik, his attention turned outboard, now spotted several more boats dotted about.

Small figures aboard the other ship waved to _Flying Cloud_ and the scout thought he recognized the yellow-clad sylph on the fishing vessel. The rude creature who liked poking her tongue at other sylphs.

_Flying Cloud_ returned to her original course and Neptarik glanced landward again. He could now see Cadister quite clearly.

"We're nearly there," he remarked.

Grenard nodded. "I hope to speak to you before you leave the ship. But now we all have work to do."

Tahena and Kelanus picked their way aft along the rowing platform, collecting Neptarik on the way. They climbed the short ladder to the poop deck, where Mate Steffin smiled and nodded to them.

Kelanus had paid Steffin for their passage; the Second Mate acted as purser, part of his duties. The two ship sylphs were there and Cloudy looked at their luggage with sad eyes as boys brought it up from below. Her gaze lingered on Neptarik as Cadister loomed.

The sylph scout nodded and his earpoints gave a twitch. Both wore a slight smile. Neither said a word, but Tahena sensed rather a lot passed between them in that moment. The two ship sylphs then took the wheel as the crew trotted to their stations, ready to bring the ship alongside. The crew were doubled up, thanks to the southerners who stood shoulder to shoulder with their opposite numbers in the northern crew.

Neptarik watched Kelanus take a couple of deep breaths and cock an eyebrow at Tahena.

"He's close," said the southern woman. "Very, very close."

Kelanus nodded. He already knew who "he" was.

A forest of masts marked Cadister's harbor, where most of the fishing vessels were secured for the day. One or two deep sea traders boasted poles that towered far above anything the fishing boats could manage. As before, the harbor bustled with activity. They were still too far out to make out individuals, but he saw ships' yards in use loading or discharging cargo. A couple of the crew hoisted flags, the same flags repeated at the end of the jetty, with more of a different color and boasting different shapes beneath them.

"Outer Jetty, Berth Three," said Cloudy, though neither Neptarik nor his companions understood that the place where the ship should come alongside had just been allocated to them. "That'll please those due shore leave, it is the furthest one out."

Tefric managed a small chuckle. "Ideal for coming alongside," he replied.

Neptarik's sharp eyes picked out a tall man, dressed in brown, who already hurried towards their berth. "Kelanus- _ya_!" he hissed and nodded towards Sallis ti Ath.

"All right." The General managed a smile for the scout. "Thank you."

Neptarik's traveling companions had eyes only for ti Ath, but the scout watched everything. Kelanus's hunter came to a halt beside the workers readying the gangway with its peculiar tower. Moments later, the sylph stiffened as he saw a second man duck quickly out of sight. A dark-haired man, just short of his fortieth year. One who wore a sword and looked like he knew how to use it. A huge grin bloomed. His earpoints shot bolt upright and twitched.

Tahena stared at this overt display of happiness as the scout began to hum some nameless – and probably tuneless – ditty, something he had not done since leaving Beshar. Her attention returned to Sallis ti Ath as the ship slowly came alongside. Suddenly anxious to see the ship secured, Neptarik already headed for the rowing platform, leaving his bag behind.

Kelanus stared glumly at Sallis ti Ath. "I suppose we'd better get this over with," he muttered, as dockmen threw securing lines for the tower. He watched the men secure the gangplank and his voice rose. "What's that sylph up to?"

It seemed that Neptarik had completely forgotten ship and companions in his eagerness to get ashore. Ignoring warning shouts from crew and dockmen, he leapt the short distance from the rowing platform to the tower before it was secured and scrambled down it. The moment his feet touched the jetty, he hared along it, voice raised.

Tasks done, Cloudy stood beside Kelanus. "Your friend waits for you," she said, silvery gray eyes neutral as she regarded the tall man on the jetty. "I wish you luck, Kelanus- _ya_."

The General smiled at the ship's sylph. "I'm sure things will work out."

He and Tahena shook hands with the ship's sylph, Captain Liffen and Sailing Master Tefric. Kelanus felt surprisingly nervous as he began his slow descent from _Flying Cloud_ to the jetty. Tahena grumbled from somewhere above him about lazy sylphs who couldn't be bothered carrying their own luggage. The General smiled, ready to have a quiet word with the scout when he reappeared. At the bottom of the tower he turned to meet the penetrating gaze of Sallis ti Ath.

"Kelanus Arus Butros?"

Kelanus nodded. "Yes."

"My name's Sallis ti Ath and I have a warrant for your arrest and return to Marka."

"I'm returning to Marka voluntarily."

"So long as you accept that you are under my arrest until you reach the Markan authorities."

"Of course."

A small smile played about Sallis's mouth, gone an instant later. Had Kelanus imagined it?

"There is something more you must know," continued ti Ath.

"Oh?" Kelanus ignored Tahena's presence beside him, and a delighted Neptarik, whooping and tugging at someone's hand further along the jetty, barely registered.

"The armies of Cadister, Fraller, Shium and Duning have united to form a grand army some six thousand strong, but they cannot find a commander acceptable to all sides. I put your name forward and they seemed eager to accept your application."

"What?"

Even Tahena looked confused. She had not expected this.

"Marka is besieged," continued ti Ath. "Mitigating circumstances will be allowed at your trial; should you be the man to lift the siege, an Imperial pardon is little to ask. Assuming you're found guilty, that is."

Kelanus frowned. The other man definitely smiled now.

Sallis ti Ath pointed further along the jetty, where an excited Neptarik dragged a man along with him. "Your companion Balnus persuaded me of your innocence, but the ultimate decision must rest with the courts." His eyes flickered briefly towards Tahena. "That Sandev is involved with you also helps persuade me."

Balnus strode forward and the two men clasped arms. "Pleased to see you again, sir."

"And you." Kelanus grinned.

Neptarik danced around them. "I tried to follow, _enya_ ," he squeaked, thrilled to be reunited with his owner. "But they stopped me."

"All right, lad." Balnus smiled down at his scout. "I'm sure you were more useful there than with me."

Tahena snorted, but said nothing.

Kelanus's attention returned to Sallis ti Ath. "Strange to think a man wanted for murder in Marka is expected to lead an army to relieve the city."

"The Trading Council is aware of the charges against you," said ti Ath, his face bland. "I made an appointment for you to meet the Council this evening. They speak for all four Prefects."

"They know what I stand accused of?" Kelanus looked unimpressed.

"I had to explain why I was chasing you." Sallis made a dismissive gesture with his hands. "I merely told them that you were needed in Marka, rather than wanted in Marka, but they know of you anyway."

"Thanks for that," muttered the General. His eyes widened. "How did you know I'd be here today for you to make an appointment?"

"No doubt I could impress you with some mysterious muttering about the Father's Gift," chuckled ti Ath, "but I only made the appointment when we sighted your ship."

Tahena's dark eyes glittered at Sandev's former student. "Convenient answer," she growled.

"But a true one." Ti Ath refused to be drawn further.

Kelanus glimpsed Cloudy and called up to her. "Can we borrow that cabin again for an hour?"

The ship's sylph waved an arm. "Come aboard and welcome." Busy, she disappeared from view.

Once in the cabin that three of them had shared until very recently, Kelanus turned to his captor.

"There are things I must know," he began. "What does this army consist of? What are its officers like with regards to efficiency and competency; are they aware that if they march with me, they march under the Vintner Banner; do they know who and what they face?"

Sallis ti Ath indicated the seats. "This may take a little time. I suggest we sit."

***

Ean- _y_ -Felis pushed through the grass, disturbing it as little as possible. Moving stealthily, he noted everything about the army before him. The sun already stood more than halfway between its meridian and the western horizon, yet the soldiers drilled on. Although there were three different banners and at least two ways of doing things, it was apparent to Ean's relatively inexperienced eye that this well trained army looked ready to fight. He had not discovered its intentions, but he had learned a lot about it already. His first day and he had ascertained its size and composition. As he moved, he recalled his instructor's words:

"Remain still when you can. All humans are predators and will detect movement without ever seeing who or what moved. If you must move, make it as little as possible."

Ean knew that every scout remembered these words, or a similar form of them. All humans are predators. When it came to keeping still, he ranked among the best of scouts and moved less than most. His camouflage helped keep him invisible, but his observations came to an end when he realized that the troops had finished their exercises for the day. They now returned to the city below the training fields. He waited a decent time before backing away from the training ground, eyes and ears open for anything out of place, just in case some human scouts from the Cadisteran army were still out. It would never do for the people he supposedly watched to capture him.

Entering his small and discreet camp, he immediately realized something had gone wrong.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, rubbing his arms as if it had suddenly grown very cold.

Kerfan and Hepheta, complete with bedrolls, looked up from the hollow, earpoints wilted and silver eyes wide. Neither looked happy. Unlike Ean, they were not collared, showing their status as wild sylphs and therefore only partly trained. Which was why an inexperienced scout led the small group. Ean had dug his _byawta_ into the hollow, a small cave almost completely hidden, where he had made his temporary base.

"Do not blame them," came a deep human voice, from behind.

Ean spun around and his eyes widened. The old man leaning casually on his staff had not been there moments before. Could not have been there. Piercing blue eyes transfixed him for a moment, before he recognized the short man.

"Grayar- _ya_." Ean nodded in recognition.

Grayar glanced up at the sun. "Gather your belongings," he said, "we've not got much time."

Ean took half a step backwards and widened his eyes, while his earpoints slanted forwards questioningly.

"We're going into the city," explained Grayar.

Ean shook his head. "My orders –"

"Have changed." Grayar's blue eyes hardened. "Do not worry, you and I fight on the same side. That army is intended to relieve Marka and lift the siege."

The scout still hesitated, aware of his companions' frightened eyes.

Grayar sighed. "You do not trust me, which I understand. All right, let us assume I am not on your side, that I have caught you spying and intend to turn you in to the authorities here." He raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

" _Obbub_!" Ean hissed to the other sylphs before sprinting away. He had barely taken a step before the air thickened about him and he could not move. Neither wild sylph had made any attempt to flee. Hepheta even wrung his hands in despair. Grayar must have done something to enforce such obedience in sylphs usually so proud of their freedom and independence.

Grayar shook his head. "Nobody is running anywhere," he said.

Ean struggled against the nothingness holding him.

"You have a choice, Ean- _y_ -Felis. You may come to Cadister and learn to trust, or I'll take you there and teach you to trust. Which is it to be?"

Ean reached his decision quickly. "I will come with you into the city," he said, expression mistrustful. He would go into the city quietly, but he had given no promise to stay there.

***

"We had despaired of ever finding a commander acceptable to our coalition." Khel Ar Zhanost, leader of the trading council of Cadister, Fraller, Shium and Duning, and probably the effective ruler of them all, steepled his fingers and leaned forward, dark eyed gaze boring into Kelanus. He continued. "When Sallis ti Ath recommended _you_ , we were astonished to learn you were available."

Twelve councilors sat around the horseshoe-shaped table, watching Kelanus who sat in the middle like a penitent. Except that the General knew these people were the supplicants. Two guards stood just inside the door and infertiles stood ready with refreshments.

"You've heard of me?" Kelanus's bass rumble sounded ominous. A sylph scurried to top up his glass at a sign from another councilor. "And if you have no commanders who know the work, what sort of army is it you expect me to command?"

Khel managed a small laugh. "Modesty is a wonderful thing, but too much is as bad as arrogance. My dear General, your reputation in the field is held in high esteem throughout the former empire, and possibly even further afield than that."

Kelanus narrowed his eyes. If they had heard of him as a commander, then they must know the rest as well. Would he ever be free from those bloody, bloody accusations? He waved his glass in an expansive circle. "Your own commanders are not up to it?"

Another of the councilors opened his mouth angrily, but Khel placed a restraining hand on his arm. "We unite against common enemies, but among ourselves, we have a treaty of offense and defense in perpetuity. We've fought each other at least as often as outsiders. We have capable generals, just not one acceptable to all as overall commander. This is a political problem, General Kelanus, not one of ability."

"I don't want the army turning against itself the very moment we need discipline most. Men win battles and if they aren't up to it, then it doesn't matter how brilliant your commander is."

Khel steepled his fingers before leaning forward again. "You'll find the men are reasonably experienced and as disciplined a crowd as any other army you have commanded. That I swear to you."

Kelanus nodded. "Any army I command marches under the Vintner Banner."

"We know." Khel's dark eyes hardened. "Kelanus Arus Butros, we are first and foremost traders, but we squabble about almost everything else. Including who to command a combined army, or the ensign it marches under. This is why we are pleased to have an outsider command it, provided we command him."

"I've been about a bit, Councilor, and people do nothing unless they see some benefit for themselves." Kelanus's pale blue eyes locked with Khel's. "Philanthropy is not your goal here." He swirled the contents of his glass round and around, but shook his head as the sylph with the flagon stepped forward again. His gaze remained fixed on the councilors.

"Marka has an Emperor again," replied Khel. A smile flickered briefly.

"So?"

"The benefits of a strong, ascendant Marka far outweigh the costs. Despite Imperial taxes, benefit to trade is incalculable when Marka is strong. A _huge_ benefit to trade."

"And if you liberate Marka, doubtless you wish to exert some control over it." Kelanus's eyes flashed.

"No more than due influence, which every Prefecture enjoyed anyway." Khel leaned forward again. "There is something you will take with you; one of my messengers will carry it. So you know, it is a petition to His Majesty in Marka." He put a scroll on the table, lifting it from somewhere below. "I will read it to you."

"They do teach some of us how to read further north." Kelanus leaned forward to take the scroll.

"I will read it." Khel's expression hardened again and the General sat back, sensing something rather more important than who read the contents of a scroll was at stake. Khel bent his head back, putting distance between the scroll and his eyes. He began to read.

"To Zenepha, by Siranva's choice Emperor of Marka, her Prefectures and Dependencies; Dominator of the World, Guardian of the Key, Commander of the Shadow Riders and Lord Protector of Gwerins, we the undersigned send greeting!

"We, the ancient Prefectures of Cadister, Fraller, Shium and Duning send to You, Most Munificent and Imperial Majesty, this petition of ceding Sovereign Right of said Prefectures to Your Throne, for governance by You, Your Sires or Successors in the name of Mark, First and Founding Emperor. Signed, this day in Cadister:

"Eylam Ar Mhinos, elected Prefect of Cadister; Sandan Elad Hindanes, hereditary Prefect of Duning; Valad don Rovan, elected Prime Councilor of Fraller; Jerod Ar Linost, elected Prefect of Shium."

Khel glanced at his fellow councilors, as if to ensure they had all understood. Kelanus realized the Trading Council did not unanimously accept ceding their independence. It was irrelevant. He had a job to do and an army at his back to do it.

Khel continued. "You will assume command?"

Kelanus nodded. "I will command your army, provided I have full control over it and my staff officer – Captain Balnus – is accepted and paid as such."

"Captain?" Khel's eyebrows lifted. "I was given to understand Balnus is a private soldier."

"He has this moment received a field promotion. Well within his capabilities."

"Very well." Khel inclined his head. "I am certain you want to inspect your command."

"I do." Kelanus managed a small smile to show he had heard the dismissal. "Please complete all the necessary paperwork with my companion and advisor, Tahena Mithon." He bowed, turned on his heel and left.

"Kelanus." In the hallway, Tahena caught his arm.

"You're wanted in there," said the General, smiling now. "A paper trail needs to be completed."

"Thank you very much." Irony twisted Tahena's mouth before she remembered why she had stopped him in the first place. "I'd like you to meet Grayar."

The General bowed to Grayar, a short man with impressive blue eyes and silver hair that suggested great age. "Pleased to meet you."

Grayar returned the bow. "And I have longed to meet you, General Kelanus," he replied. "I've heard much about you, particularly from Sandev."

Kelanus groaned. "Since meeting her myself, it seems everybody I come into contact with knows Sandev. Yet another of her former students?"

Sallis ti Ath snorted and shook his head, while Balnus stared.

"Not precisely." A smile fleeted across Grayar's face. "You might say she is a former student of mine."

The General went very still. "She was your student?" he whispered.

"In another age and another place, with another name. A long story." Grayar's expression hinted he was not about to share. "To more important matters. Your army must move tonight; Marka is in mortal danger and might fall this very evening. I will move you."

"How? You're still wanted in there, Tahena."

Tahena scowled at him, before she disappeared into the chamber.

Grayar touched the foci in his pocket, but did not remove them. The things should not still exist, but he thanked the Father they did. "I'll move you almost to Marka's gates. You must be quick to formulate your battle plan with your scouts and field commanders."

"Slight problem, Grayar-of-the-Ten." Kelanus's eyes flashed. "I have only one sylph scout and whatever human scouts these people might have. Despite how protective I am about my own race, sylph scouting is far superior to anything we can manage. Unless you can magick me five or so sylph scouts out of thin air, we may end up fighting our own people if we just... appear."

"If only I had five." Grayar's voice was dry, his expression wry. "If someone had told me, I might have brought some with me. Though I did find three waifs and strays on my way here." He turned and gestured towards the door. "As you will see once you get out there."

Kelanus expected to see Sallis ti Ath, together with Balnus and Neptarik as he left the building. He stared at the three painted sylphs stood outside.

"Ean?"

The named scout looked embarrassed. "General Kelanus, _donenya_." He glanced at Grayar. "Please forgive me for doubting you."

The silver-haired man smiled. "Apology accepted, Ean- _y_ -Felis."

Kelanus knew the other two sylphs for wild ones by the way they stared at everything with open mouths, and the lack of collars. He turned to Neptarik. "As you're not painted, you'd best stay with me as messenger."

" _Se bata_." There was some whispering between the wild scouts, before they disappeared around the corner. Neptarik followed them and Ean lingered.

"Horses," muttered Kelanus, a thousand things whirling around in his head. "We need horses."

"Already arranged," smiled Balnus.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Captain Balnus."

" _Captain_?" Balnus's eyes widened. "When? How?"

Kelanus smiled. "It's deserved. We're just waiting for Tahena. Can anybody tell me how big this army is?"

"Six thousand," said Ean, promptly. "One thousand horse, forty-five hundred infantry and five hundred bombardiers with forty catapults."

"Somebody told you that," said Sallis ti Ath, a man rarely astonished.

"I counted it for myself. Mostly." Ean gave the criminal hunter a hard stare.

Ti Ath spread his hands in mock surrender.

"Thank you Ean." Kelanus smiled. "Grayar, do you intend taking us to Marka now?"

"As soon as possible. I'm sure you need to meet your field commanders and troops before we go, but I urge you to keep your speeches brief."

"You have my word." Kelanus's expression hardened as he began to wind himself up, knowing he'd be fighting before much more time passed. "What was the situation outside Marka when you left?"

***

"You were not posted as deserters; we failed to understand that."

Ean did the talking, while Hepheta and Kerfan relegated themselves to bystanders. The wild scouts were initially wary of Neptarik. He had not been involved in their rescue and they'd had no chance to get to know him before he left Marka. They listened to the conversation.

" _Enya_ had the blessing of His Majesty," replied Neptarik. He grinned at the wild sylphs – were they still wild, now they were scouts? "We were commanded to help Kelanus- _ya_ escape."

"A pretty row _that_ caused. It is the reason Zenepha is Emperor and not Marcus- _ya_. Why has Kelanus come back?"

"We sought evidence to clear his name. He did not kill Branad- _ya_ and he did not do those... other things before either." Neptarik raised his head. "General Ranallic's real name is not Ranallic. He murdered his master, the man training him, and stole his name."

Hepheta and Kerfan exchanged a look.

Ean shook his head, easily confused by the intricacies of human interpersonal relationships. The sooner he returned to his owner, the better. He had been promised a wife when the siege ended. There were several willing candidates, but his owner had to arrange things with the lucky one's owner. He pushed the thought of tiny sylph's feet pattering to the back of his mind. But for now he must make the best of being here.

"We will be busy, with only four," remarked Neptarik. "I doubt if the human scouts will be much use."

Ean nodded agreement.

***

"We will leave the war machines behind; they will only slow us down."

"But _Sir_ ," protested Commandant Treylfor, commander of Cadister's contribution, which included the war machines, "there will be nothing for the bombardiers to do."

"Marka is surrounded by hundreds of siege engines; I intend to capture some and use them. Besides, Grayar cannot project all of us and the war machines together." This last was a lie, but Kelanus had no intention of being slowed by the mangonels. "They are difficult enough to maneuver at the best of times, and these are not the best. We'll capture enemy machines, but until then we need those bombardiers to keep up with the main force."

Treylfor lowered his voice. "Does this information come from the sylphs? Even if it is accurate, it's hopelessly out of date now. They claim they made it here in three weeks, but it probably took them twice as long." His voice lowered even further. "I know sylphs, you understand; they have a tendency to exaggerate things."

Kelanus smiled. "Not these sylphs," he countered. "I used to think as you do, and learned a lesson."

Neptarik reinforced his commander's words with a stare. Humans _always_ refused to believe his race's capabilities. Until shown otherwise.

Grayar spoke. "We must move immediately. There is not much time."

"We need a conference first," insisted Kelanus.

Balnus nodded his agreement. The four commanders of the various armies were present, together with their captains. They seemed resigned to command under the Vintner Banner. Kelanus continued.

"You are right to fear that my information is obsolete; of course it is out of date. However, my intelligence will be updated almost immediately we arrive."

"How?" demanded an anonymous Captain.

Smiling, Kelanus pointed to Neptarik. "By these sylphs you are so quick to dismiss. I have four scouts at my disposal. Neptarik will stay with me as my messenger and the other three will scout ahead."

"To discover what?" asked Treylfor.

"To communicate." Kelanus silently thanked Grayar for his information. "The moment we turn up, we'll be spotted by scouts and our presence reported. Unless the scouts with us can prove otherwise, we'll be treated as hostile. There will naturally be an exchange of information and then we'll know exactly where to strike." He turned to Grayar. "Any idea where Lance Captain Kestan has based himself?"

"None," replied the silver haired man. "I can drop you halfway between the two gates, which should give you plenty of time to acquire the information you need and still give leeway for you to advance as necessary."

A frown briefly furrowed Kelanus's brow. "Marka has four gates."

"Two were blocked before the siege began." Grayar smiled. "A sensible precaution, recommended by Marshal Mikhan. A man clearly experienced in siege craft."

Kelanus nodded. "Sounds like something he would do. Very well, drop us between the two gates, but a mila or so distant. Nasty things might happen if we just appear." He turned back to his lieutenants. "This is how I want you to be arranged when Grayar shifts us..."

***

Lance Captain Kestan felt something approaching terror as he stared towards the intact but defeated South Gate of Marka. Tilipha stood at his side, thrilled to be messenger, a trusted position usually held by a more experienced Vintner scout. Dekran remained by the North Gate. The flow of information from Tilipha was almost continuous.

"They are in Coronation Hall... The defenders hold most of the city, but the Emperor is a prisoner..."

"Which one?" asked Kestan, quietly.

"Zenepha." The sylph's voice rose. "The war machines are falling back all around the city!" His eyes, glowing in the dark, turned excitedly to Kestan.

"I'm afraid it doesn't mean they're retreating." Kestan forced a smile, surprised at his ability to detect the unasked question. No wonder sylphs rarely spoke unless they must. "The enemy is convinced he's won the city." He tried to decide what best to do: whether to attack the enemy direct or not. As most of Hingast's men were still outside the city, ready for almost anything, the direct route would be certain suicide.

"The line is falling back," continued Tilipha, "Hingast pushes forward... He is winning the battle for the walls..."

Kestan let the gloomy intelligence wash over him, taking very little in. He had begun to despair when he heard that the Emperor was a prisoner, coming on the heels of the South Gate's fall. The scouts believed treachery had led to Zenepha's capture. As the war machines fell back, the glimmerings of a plan began to formulate in his mind.

" _Donenya_!" Kestan thought the sylph had injured himself, so deep was the pain in his voice. "An unknown army of many thousands is approaching and only now reported!"

"How far?"

Tilipha's eyes were wide with fright. "Less than a mila."

Kestan's hope died with his plan. "How many?" His voice remained calm and quiet.

"Thousands..."

"Ranva's balls! How did they avoid detection for so long?"

The sylph remained silent.

"Tilipha?"

The sylph kept his head to one side. All traces of fear vanished.

"Tilipha!"

The scout smiled.

Kestan had never before been so tempted to strike a sylph.

"Report, _donenya_. Four thousand five hundred infantry, one thousand horse, half a thousand artillerymen, together with scouts Ean- _y_ -Felis, Kerfan- _y_ - _nebonda_ and Hepheta- _y_ - _nebonda._ Reported by Neptarik- _y_ -Balnus."

"Neptarik?" breathed Kestan.

"All under the command of General Kelanus, _donenya_."

Kestan recovered from his shock three seconds later. "Immediate to Kelanus," he snapped, mind suddenly cold and somehow detached. "And copy Dekran. Recommend one-third deployment to North Gate and report to Dekran. Other two-thirds to me."

As the sylph began to whistle, Kestan's instructions continued, almost nonstop. "Intelligence: South Gate penetrated, Hingast and two thousand enemy soldiers within; Emperor prisoner; war machines falling back beyond range of city. Strength of enemy is, approximately..."

Tilipha whistled on, never before having sent so long a message. Or one nearly so important.

As Kestan fed information to his old commander, hope rose once more.

***
**Chapter 24**

Marka Must Live

Jenn stirred and stretched, mouth opening in an expanding blue cavern as she yawned. She pushed her hands and feet as far as she could, tugging all her tendons into place, ready for work. She sat up, silvery gray eyes flickered open and her earpoints twitched before settling into their normal upright position. She had the sylph room to herself.

Sitting up, she pulled her smock over her head and padded into the apartment's main chamber, hoping for company. Despite meager rations, she felt energetic; after all, she had enjoyed a longer sleep than normal. She smiled at Eleka and her children, and nodded at the guards, their purple-lined cloaks shimmering as the men turned. There were more than usual.

Zandra stood in the center of the room, glaring at the officer of the guard. Jenn stared at the sword strapped around Zandra's waist. A gentle breeze from the open window ruffled her hair.

"You cannot stop me, Officer Naylrun." Determination rather than anger thickened Zandra's voice.

"My orders are to see you safe." The officer was not easily diverted.

"Your orders are to care for my family and sylphs," retorted the other. "Eleka, whistle the –"

"Belay that," Naylrun growled at the sylph.

"Eleka!"

The female sylph glanced once at Zandra, before crossing to the open window and putting her head back. Jenn heard the whistle, as would every sylph within earshot, but she only recognized the end of the message. Her eyes widened.

Zandra wagged a finger under Naylrun's nose. "Too late, the message is sent. All over Marka, fit and young women gather. Must these women face the enemy without their commander?"

Naylrun narrowed his eyes. "You? This is planned right across the city?"

"Of course. Did you think we would stand by as Marka falls? Believe me, I'd far prefer it not to have come to this. But it has and you cannot stand in our way. Or in my way."

"Foolishness!" snapped the guardsman.

"Necessity," replied Zandra. "Are you going to stand aside?"

Eleka put a hand on Jenn's arm. "Care for them?" she asked, nodding to her children.

Jenn nodded her assent and received a squeeze.

"Ready?" Zandra turned to Eleka.

Naylrun nodded to three of his men, but he did not leave. He looked down at Jenn without really seeing her. Worry etched his face and the beginnings of fear lurked in his pale blue eyes. Abruptly, he focused on the sylph and all traces of emotion were driven away. He winked before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Jenn looked down at Eleka's still-sleeping children and hoped none of them woke; she had no idea how to cope with younglings. At least she could call on Kaira if anything got too heavy for her.

***

Belaika- _y_ -Marcus glanced at his owner and Jablon whickered, the warhorse aware of spilled blood. Marcus conversed with his senior officers and the scout listened while waiting for information from other scouts.

The battle raged all around and the screams of injured and dying men filled the night air. Arrows flew in all directions. Belaika kept his eyes open for missiles headed for his owner, ready to snatch them from the air or sacrifice himself if necessary.

"This is madness," said Marshal Mikhan. "If we advance on the Senate, the prisoners inside will die."

Marcus shook his head. "I have a plan," he countered. "I'm just waiting for a message." He turned to Belaika, who shook his head. "Still waiting."

Mikhan stared at his former enemy. "Not one you've shared with us."

"Better not, for it to work." Marcus forced his voice lower. "There may be traitors nearby, Marshal."

"I'll not attack the Senate until I know the prisoners are safe!"

" _Enya_!" cautioned Belaika.

"Is it?"

The scout shook his head again, but his silver eyes were wide with excitement. "Army just detected, the message is from Neptarik _-y-_ Balnus. Commanded by General Kelanus."

Mikhan nodded. "Reinforcements at last. Wait... _Kelanus_?"

Marcus touched Mikhan's arm. "See those doors?" He pointed high on the disused warehouse. "When they open, attack the Senate. That is a direct order, Marshal."

The older man turned, his deepset eyes cold as he touched his fist to shoulder. " _Se bata_ ," he replied, in the manner of a sylph slave.

Marcus ignored Mikhan's rancor. The man barely recognized him as the victorious claimant. Worse, he had thrown all his support behind Zenepha, rather than transferring it to Marcus. The man hesitated now only because his precious Emperor was a prisoner. Perhaps he feared Marcus had a deeper, darker plan.

He had indeed thought of one, but rejected it almost immediately.

Marcus turned away from the old marshal and mounted Jablon. He raised his eyebrows to Belaika and again the sylph scout shook his head.

Mikhan looked from one to the other quizzically, annoyed to be excluded from whatever went on between Marcus and his scout.

Then, sudden confusion among the sylph scouts.

Belaika nodded.

Marcus smiled. "Marshal Mikhan. That message concerned more reinforcements. This time for us." He turned and ruffled Belaika's hair. "Stay with the Marshal."

" _Se bata_."

Marcus gave Mikhan a look that suggested a sylph for a sylph, surety for Zenepha's safety, before he turned Jablon and looked over his shoulder. "Remember, when those gates open, attack the Senate."

Mikhan nodded. "As you command." He still had doubts.

The man could hold all the doubt of the world as far as Marcus was concerned, so long as he obeyed.

A fresh army now came along the main thoroughfare of the city that stretched between the gates. From behind the line of defenders came a steady flow of women, all armed with a staff or pike, an ax or sword. They moved slowly and purposefully, masking lurking fear. Ready to defend their city and homes, preferring death to Hingast's rule. And Zandra strode at their head.

Mikhan swung around, gaze fixed on the doors above, waiting for them to open, snapping commands to his juniors without even looking at them. He drew his sword and held it aloft, waiting. This had better be a good order.

The doors swung open and banged uselessly against the warehouse wall.

"Advance!" he shouted, as he glimpsed Marcus above.

Encouraged by the presence of their womenfolk, the men pressed forward towards the Senate.

***

Marcus's plan began as a hope when he heard Zenepha was a prisoner in Coronation Hall. It only formulated into something more – a gamble rather than a plan – when he realized the enemy had not occupied the disused warehouse.

Jablon shouldered his way inside cheerfully enough and Marcus grinned when he saw the spiral edging, allowing horses to climb to the upper floors, remained intact. The beggars, who until recently had infested this building were gone. The detritus of their occupation littered the floor and sinabra still thickened the air.

If Marcus failed, the prisoners would die before Mikhan could liberate the building. That the murderers would not escape justice was a cold comfort. The blame would be laid at Marcus's door as well. He had got used to it.

Reaching the floor with the raised doorway, Marcus dismounted and patted Jablon. He crossed to the doors and pushed them open. He leaned out and waved to Mikhan below, pleased to see Mikhan immediately gave the order to attack. His heart leapt as he glimpsed Zandra, sword flashing as she and the womenfolk of Marka added their weight to the defense of the city.

Returning to Jablon, he mounted and drew his sword.

"In with your shoulder, lad," he murmured to the horse. He strongly suspected Jablon and perhaps himself had only moments left to live. "In with your shoulder." He booted the animal into a gallop.

The stained glass window depicting the Founding Mark's coronation burst inwards. Marcus's gaze flickered around the hall in the split second available before Jablon landed. Enemy soldiers guarded what appeared to be a clutch of senators and councilors. More stood over a huddle of prisoners. Djerana stared at this sudden appearance with frightened eyes. This was the first time he had seen her out of countenance. Blood from a couple of corpses slickened the floor.

Hingast held Zenepha with one hand and the other, raised, clutched a dagger. Back to Marcus, he already turned, eyes widening with surprise. Anybody not already facing it turned to the window.

Just as Jablon landed and shattered both forelegs on the floor, Marcus swung his sword; Hingast's head and most of his raised forearm came free from the rest of his body, still somersaulting in the air as the corpse began to drop.

Not everybody remained stunned to stillness.

Olista ducked under the reach of his guard and snatched up a sword. "To me!" he yelled, running the nearest enemy soldier through. Gior and two of his officers were also upright, ready to fight.

Amazed to have escaped serious injury, Marcus extricated himself from his screaming, mortally wounded horse. He swung at the nearest soldier, hoping all those he killed were the enemy. Many wore Markan uniforms.

"To me!" yelled Olista again, as he ran one of the treasonous senators through.

Zenepha, shaken but unbowed, joined his former master and Djerana hugged the Emperor, unable to stop tears of relief.

Marcus felt nothing when the Principal Chancellor, Senator Lanas, challenged him by raising his sword. He suspected treason as the reason why Zenepha became a prisoner in the first place and knew those traitors would hold positions of authority. He met the challenge.

***

Kelanus silently thanked Siranva that he had an experienced scout at his side. The continuous flow of information from the scouts allowed him to direct the battle outside the walls with greater ease than would otherwise be possible. Neptarik had experience and intelligence to sift through and prioritize the information. For a sylph, he knew the work well.

"Kestan has found thirty war machines not as heavily guarded as the rest," squeaked Neptarik, eyes alight as his earpoints twitched with excitement.

"Signal Kestan to operate under his own initiative," commanded Kelanus. "Direct Dekran to smash the group preparing to enter the North Gate. Treylfor to advance on the flank. Indelgar to concentrate on the other side of the city – harrying attacks only."

While Neptarik relayed the updated orders, Kelanus turned and viewed the field. The bulk of Cadister's infantry ranged behind, ready to advance on the South Gate and liberate Marka from her invaders. He needed war machines now.

"Kestan has captured his target," said Neptarik, voice still wild with the thrill of battle. Most normal sylphs struggled against terror in these situations, but the scouting corps attracted few normal sylphs. "Do you want them ranged halfway?"

"Yes. Tell Kestan to continue until I tell him otherwise." Kelanus had no need to tell the Lance Captain what to do now. He nodded to the bombardiers' commander, who pressed his men forward. The General knew that the mangonels would be ranged to a point halfway to Marka's walls, ready to cut down enemy soldiers as they began to retreat. As retreat they must; from the sylphs, Kelanus knew the women in Marka had added their weight to the defenders' strength.

He drew his sword and, all along the line of cavalry and infantry, junior officers followed his lead. The three columns advanced slowly, with sufficient space between to allow a panicking enemy to escape. Better to harry a fleeing enemy from behind than to corner him, where he would fight all the harder and inflict more damage than necessary.

"Enemy falling back in Marka!" called Neptarik, who easily kept pace with the horses. "And Hingast is dead."

_Believe that when I see the corpse_ , reflected Kelanus.

Enemy soldiers formed up against him now, ready to attack his flanks and try to delay him. All expected and quickly brushed aside. Hingast had brought the largest army seen since the heyday of the Second Empire to Marka. Kestan's raids had depleted those forces a little.

Kelanus had an impressive army, which helped even the odds in Marka's favor. Sheer volume of numbers should carry the day. He could not allow complacency any part in his calculations; a sizable number of his soldiers were inexperienced, despite the Trading Council's assurances. Just so long as they were disciplined.

Indelgar – a patrol commander who until recently had fought under Branad Vintner – reported that he had broken the enemy on the pyramid side of the walls. The scouts said that Kestan thought highly of Indelgar. Dekran reported that those he fought were putting up a feeble resistance and from within the city...

"They run!" squeaked Neptarik. "They are leaderless and they run!"

But still no sign of panic among the enemy outside the walls. If Hingast's army had suddenly lost the stomach to fight inside the city, there was no hint outside.

Kelanus began to snap orders again. "Once the mangonels have loosed, attack the enemy. Attack, follow, attack."

He glanced at Balnus and smiled, before looking the other way into Sallis ti Ath's less friendly face.

"How are you finding your first battle?" asked Kelanus.

Ti Ath managed a small smile. "They say new experiences are good for the soul, but this is not on my list of things to repeat in future."

"I don't suppose you'll be of any help with the Gift."

Ti Ath raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps, if needed."

Kelanus increased the pace a little; the time for drawing blood was at hand. Abruptly, he and the army were in the thick of the fighting. Swords, pikes and axes flashed. Arrows mowed down men from above in deadly showers.

Even here Neptarik relayed the messages from the other scouts. That flow would slow and stop soon as not even sylphs could hear whistled reports above the din of battle.

The scout stayed at Kelanus's side in case any messages must be carried through the battle. Few sylphs relished this task, but Neptarik had always been good at holding his nerve in the middle of fighting. Unlike most of his race, he could hide fear. It had an effect, though: his eyes were no longer wild and a lot of his earlier excitement had gone.

"Marcus Vintner and Marshal Mikhan are pushing the enemy back," he calmly informed his commander, if with a huge grin splitting his face. "Some reports say that the coronation building is back under Markan control, others say not. But Hingast's men are falling back." His voice squeaked again in excitement. "They still run, _donenya_."

Kelanus nodded. "It's time to wrap this up."

***

"The Senate is back under our control," Belaika informed Mikhan. "Hingast is dead, Zenepha- _ya_ is free." The sylph's eyes were expressionless.

Mikhan glanced down from his horse and nodded. "Thank you." Enemy troops fell over each other in their haste to withdraw and yet seemed reluctant to flee the city. Many were cut down before they ran far. From outside the walls, he heard mangonels release; presumably those Kelanus had captured as nothing fell into the city. Shouts and screams came from outside the walls also, perhaps part of the reason why not many of Hingast's men were eager to leave. He turned to his yeoman.

"Remind everybody that we are civilized," he said. "We take prisoners." There might be a lot of them if they were reluctant to run.

The yeoman nodded acknowledgment before obeying the order. The streets between here and the gate were littered with corpses of defenders and attackers alike. Markans added more Eldovans to the dead, as the defenders steeled themselves to eject the invader. Kelanus waited outside, ready to kill a few more.

Belaika turned his face back up to Mikhan. "The enemy is broken outside the walls, the only resistance is outside the South Gate."

Mikhan nodded. No need to change his orders. Kelanus would continue his work outside the walls and the marshal knew he had nobody better to do it. He was vaguely aware of yet more defenders adding their strength at this end of the city, frowning as he glimpsed Ranallic. He must have deserted his command at the North Gate, together with a good number of his men. The General had a sword in each hand, making the most of his ambidexterity.

"Find out what he's doing here," he snapped at Belaika, the scout nodding his head and whistling the question. The scout with Ranallic replied instantly.

"There are more women at the North Gate," Marcus's scout informed Mikhan. "The older ones. Outside the walls, Hingast's men support those this end of the city."

Mikhan was still not satisfied. "Is there a scout with them?"

Belaika nodded.

"Warn the defenders at that end that Hingast has switched his attack before. There is nothing to stop his commanders from doing it again."

" _Se bata_." Belaika whistled the command and quickly received an acknowledgment.

Mikhan looked down at the sylph, a wistful smile turning his lips. "It seems events have turned in our favor after all. Come, we will advance to the gate."

***

Kelanus grudgingly admitted to being impressed how well the enemy held up. Most light came from the stars, a little from light crystals within Marka, the ruby crystal atop the giant pyramid and from fires where his men torched captured war machines.

He held the advantage, both of numbers and the sylphs' ability to see in the dark, which allowed him to deploy his men to best use. But the only determined resistance surrounded the South Gate. Though the melee had reduced to two defensive squares, Kelanus knew better than to charge them straight away; he instead used two sets of captured mangonels to pound the enemy into submission. Elsewhere, the scouts reported enemy soldiers and camp retainers fleeing into the forest and along the roads. A problem for another time.

Kelanus's other commanders now closed on the South Gate, having cleared the enemy from around the city perimeter. Sylph scouts stood ready to give warning of any regrouping. He bent down to Neptarik.

"Any news of Hingast, Janost or Hanan?" he asked the sylph. The whereabouts of the enemy captains concerned him most.

"Hingast is dead," replied the scout instantly, a hint of reproof in his tone. "Already told you that." He whistled the question. Moments passed before an answer returned. "Janost might still be in the city. Other than that..." Neptarik shrugged.

"Thank you." Kelanus smiled. He probably fought Hanan right now. "Command: increase rate of fire from catapults."

While Neptarik whistled the order, Kelanus turned to Balnus. "Ready the cavalry and have infantry ready to follow."

"The squares?" Balnus sounded surprised. "They have pikes."

"Ti Ath." Kelanus's voice was quiet. "I have use for your Gift now. Grayar has already refused me. Ride with the cavalry, blast a way through."

Sallis ti Ath inclined his head, without any hint of subservience.

"Wait for my command. Let the war machines do their work first."

As more men poured from Marka, further detachments were ready to cut them down or take prisoners as the situation demanded. Many who left the gate were ready to surrender as word leaked out that Hingast lay dead and the other commanders had deserted their men. Some were made of sterner stuff and wanted to fight, to kill as many as possible before losing their own lives. Perhaps they believed those lives were forfeit if captured.

The mangonels increased their rate of fire. Kelanus tensed, waiting for the right moment to give the order...

***

Zandra glanced to her side. Eleka looked back and Zandra smiled.

"Just making sure you're still there," she said.

Eleka nodded.

"Belaika will never forgive me if you come to any harm."

The sylph smiled. "Neither will I."

Zandra assumed Eleka was joking. Then again, sylphs were strange creatures and often frighteningly fatalistic.

Not for the first time, she wished she had a fully trained sylph scout; Eleka took her time to decipher and formulate whistles. Even so, she had done very well.

The corpses littering the city's streets sickened her. She felt sorry even for Hingast's soldiers, despite everything for which they were responsible. Perhaps these men were not those who had pillaged and destroyed many of the farms throughout Marka's environs, but they represented those who had.

" _Anya_!" hissed Eleka.

Zandra swung her sword again as an enemy soldier drifted too close, but he dodged aside and away. This was not the first warning she had received from her "scout". She had no idea how many she had killed tonight, if any. It was one thing to train to use a sword and quite another to get involved in a battle. She had never felt so frightened, so elated or so alive as now.

Even so, she could see that the fighting slowed, perhaps coming to an end. Or she had strayed into a quiet area.

Zandra knew the women could be proud of their achievements tonight. They had released men from the North Gate by taking their stations, they had stiffened the resistance of the defenders at the southern end of the city and, even now, they fought alongside the men. Quite happy to follow the orders of more experienced commanders, Zandra remained at the forefront of the fighting, at least until now. She had no idea how many hours of darkness were left.

Zenepha was somewhere close by, having given his orders for those traitors now locked away to be dealt with later in accordance with the law. When the soldiers realized he stood among them, they cheered him. That might have been half a night or minutes ago. She had glimpsed her husband three times during the whole battle, ominously without Jablon.

More cheers went up from the soldiers and spread rapidly towards her, hot on the heels of yet another snippet of news. Or perhaps rumor. Nobody knew for certain.

"Kelanus has won outside the gate," went the whisper, moments before she added her voice to the cheering.

There were more prisoners; enemy soldiers who recognized they could not salvage their situation. The clatter of dropped weapons and shields resounded all around. Cheers grew in intensity as Zandra learned more soldiers had appeared at the South Gate, waving the dragon's head banner to prove whose side they were on.

She turned to Eleka and hugged the sylph, tears of joy staining her face.

"It's over," she laughed. "At last, it is over."

***

Zenepha surveyed the corpses littering the square and shivered. The uncomfortable memory of Hingast's knife at his throat, tempered only by the sight of Marcus Vintner bursting into Coronation Hall through the window. Never again would people see the depiction of the Founding Mark's coronation: that window was irreplaceable and its like would not be seen again.

"Majesty, the traitors should be tried by court martial." Captain Crallin was at his side.

Zenepha glanced at Marcus and Mikhan, who nodded their heads.

"No," he replied, voice even. "Under Markan Law."

"Majesty, you can't be seen to be weak in this," insisted Marcus. "I share your repulsion of summary justice, but a court martial would quickly establish the facts and execute sentence immediately afterward."

The sylph's eyes flashed. "No."

Marcus spread his hands and shrugged at Mikhan.

"Who told everybody I was a prisoner?" Zenepha changed the subject. "He must be rewarded."

"Yes," replied Mikhan, absently, "he must."

"Janin- _y_ -Sandev," answered Marcus, one hand resting on Belaika's shoulder. "He's done very well, considering he's not even properly trained."

"Where is he?"

Belaika pointed. "Still on the roof. On his way down now."

Distant cheering caught their attention and the sylph began to report to his owner, earpoints twitching as he listened to the whistles flying around.

"Kelanus has soldiers at the South Gate. Our soldiers." His silvery gray eyes shone with pride. "The siege is lifted, _enya_."

Marcus turned to Zenepha. "South Gate, Majesty?"

As the only scout, Belaika led the small group through the streets. It was still dark, but torches and light crystals showed the way. Smoke drifted through the streets. People began to appear from their hiding places and some already danced in the streets. City Guardsmen checked corpses, to ensure that they were corpses and not enemy soldiers with ideas of glory once backs were turned.

His earpoints twitched as he heard a choked sob from Djerana. The ilven would not leave Zenepha even now. The sylph glanced behind at the small retinue, pleased his owner was immediately behind him.

Belaika gritted his teeth and his earpoints wilted a little as he saw a patch of blue silk. It was a woman who had marched with Zandra and paid the ultimate price. A boy and a girl cried beside her, the boy tugging uselessly at a limp arm. The scout glanced over his shoulder at his owner.

"What do you expect me to do, Icca?"

He looked away and his earpoints wilted further. Only Djerana looked as distressed as he felt. Zenepha, in conversation with Mikhan and Crallin, might not have seen.

Soldiers in the streets stared at their Emperor and began to chant.

"Zen-ep-ha! Zen-ep-ha! Zen-ep-ha!"

The chant grew louder and louder as more and more soldiers took it up, banging weapons against shields or on the ground, wild-eyed men and women who had fought and survived. They cheered the sylph who had led them to victory. They cheered because they were still alive.

Used to this behavior, Zenepha smiled and nodded, pausing frequently to congratulate a soldier here, offer a kind word to a wounded man there and accept the many thumps on his shoulder from blooded and victorious troops.

The small retinue halted as they reached the women who had thrown their weight against the enemy alongside the men. Marcus stared at Zandra. Belaika stared at Eleka.

The scout moved first. He held his wife close and hugged her. "I am so proud of you," he whispered.

Eleka smiled back and leaned her head forward until noses, foreheads and earpoints touched.

Beside them, Marcus hugged Zandra.

Eleka stood back and her face grew more concerned. "We lost scouts in the night," she said.

Belaika's face fell. "How many? Who?"

"Three," answered Zandra. "I haven't heard their names yet. _Senakul_ , we're told."

Belaika nodded. Markan scouts, only partly trained. That made the news no easier to bear; any scout caught in the siege could be in the wrong place at the wrong time. In more honest fighting, held in open country, scouts were almost always well out of the way of the really dangerous stuff. In a city, on exposed walls, there was nowhere to hide.

The sky turned gray as night brightened to predawn, the Ark Star just visible overhead, glinting as it continued on its eternal voyage.

Belaika stared at the gate and hissed a quick warning to his companions.

Several mounted men were in the gateway. The scout recognized Kelanus immediately and the unpainted sylph with him was clearly Neptarik. Lance Captain Kestan, arguably one of Marka's best pieces of good fortune throughout the siege, stood to his right and Balnus to his left. Grayar and a southern woman he did not know were there, together with several other soldiers unknown to him. Not to mention sylphs he had not seen for some time, both wild and trained scouts.

Behind, a tall dark-eyed man sat on his horse. He had never before laid eyes on him, but Belaika knew this must be the renowned Sallis ti Ath, the bounty hunter sent to track down and return the escaped Kelanus to Marka.

They waited in the gateway, while Zenepha made his way to them. All dismounted as Zenepha halted. Captain Crallin stared at Kelanus and one hand stroked his sword. The escaped General opened his mouth to speak, but the Emperor stilled him with one raised hand. Belaika and Neptarik exchanged some silent communication.

"Lance Captain Kestan," began Zenepha, quietly. "I commend you for your excellent work throughout the siege. A promotion is the smallest of our favors."

"Thank you, Majesty."

"Kelanus, former commander of Marcus Vintner's army," continued Zenepha, gravely. "Wanted in Marka on suspicion of murder."

Kelanus made to speak, but Zenepha raised his hand again, stalling him.

"We are certain that your timely arrival at the gates brought the end of the siege and doubtless minimized bloodshed. At the very least it has prevented our enemy from regrouping immediately before the gates. A pardon for you."

Kelanus shook his head. "No."

Everybody stared in shock.

Zenepha recovered quickly. "As you wish."

Kelanus's attention turned away from the Emperor. "Lady Ilven." He inclined his head, staring at her as if unable to believe his eyes. "I was told ilven can detect lies."

Djerana shrugged but said nothing.

A small smile touched Kelanus's lips. "Perhaps I was told wrong. No matter." His attention returned to Zenepha. "With me is a messenger from the Trading Council of Cadister, Fraller, Shium and Duning. I'm certain you will be overjoyed with the news he brings."

"Is that all you have to say to me?" Zenepha's quiet voice still carried.

Kelanus's pale blue eyes narrowed. "I refuse your pardon for good reason. Criminals are pardoned for their crimes and if I accept your pardon, I admit to crimes I've not committed. I'm no criminal. I've returned to Marka to face my accuser, General Ranallic." He glanced quickly over his shoulder at Sallis ti Ath. "As we are both outlanders, I demand the right to trial by combat."

Everybody except Kelanus and ti Ath stared in surprise.

"A right not exercised for hundreds of years," murmured Olista, wonderingly.

"Trial by combat." Zenepha sounded disappointed.

"It is said that Si... ah, the Father... will help the one with truth on his side," continued Olista. "It only remained law as there seemed no need to repeal it."

"The Father will not aid you," stated Djerana firmly.

"Yet I still demand the right." Kelanus smiled at the ilven. "If Siranva will not help me, I will crush his cullions when we meet."

Outrage flashed across Djerana's face, her green eyes aflame.

There was a small stir as Ranallic appeared silently. "You would prove your innocence in combat?" He raised an eyebrow, his dark, slanted eyes puzzled even as they augured into Kelanus. A mocking tone entered his voice. "Sure you're up to it?"

"I went to a village called Pensdren." Kelanus's bass voice dropped so low, all strained to hear it, the sylphs excepted. "There, I discovered that the dead _do_ sometimes speak from the grave. Even murder victims named Ranallic Eydren."

Those within earshot stared.

Kelanus continued. "A man murdered by his apprentice, General Ranallic. Or should I say, Ellas Panir?" His voice rose slightly. "The apprentice who murdered his master because his taste had been discovered. 'Too pretty for masculinity', I believe is the phrase you use."

Ranallic waved a dismissive hand. "Sounds an interesting traveler's story," he remarked in a bored tone. "Any evidence to back it up?"

"Actually yes." Kelanus smiled. "The warrant for your execution for a start, signed by the Magistrate and High Reeve of Hejiller. You were tried for murder, Ellas Panir, and found guilty." He leaned forward towards Ranallic and his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Win or lose, my old comrade, you are finished."

Ranallic grimaced. "We shall see. There were witnesses when you attacked those sylph boys and a witness the night you murdered Branad Vintner. That will hold against you and rightly so, for you are guilty as charged."

"If you say so, shapeshifter."

Ranallic snorted in contempt and this time he did leave, calling to some soldiers as he went, already issuing orders.

Zenepha reached his decision as he watched the outlander go. "Very well," he said. "Trial by combat." Even as he spoke, he felt sick. This trial by combat did not serve justice. "But there must be a hearing first. One man killing another in combat proves nothing, General Kelanus. You might need that pardon yet."

Tahena stared at Kelanus. "I thought you were going to keep the warrant a secret," she said, once sure nobody could overhear.

Kelanus winked. "Sometimes you have to show part of your hand to get a glimpse of the other man's cards."

"You're beginning to sound like a gambler."

"Perhaps I've been taking lessons from Neptarik. Ranallic is finished."

Tahena looked at him, her face concerned. "Don't destroy yourself through hate," she said. "You're better than that."

***

The villa on Salter's Lane had some land at the front to keep the road at a distance. It had no gargoyles for drains and was the only building on the road with eight front windows. Belaika had not mentioned that the place had seen better days, with paint flaking from the walls and splits in the window frames. Even in the early evening gloom, it appeared neglected.

The front door swung silently on its hinges. She had expected it to creak from the state of its paintwork. She moved quietly into the building. A stench permeated the air, seeming to radiate from the walls, floor and ceiling. Nicolfer's stench. All illusion of course; Sandev knew well that Nicolfer liked to claim greater wounds than she had ever received in reality. The image she loved to project suggested filth, and Sandev knew that for a lie, too. The lingering malodor proved Dervra's partner had not yet fled the city.

She must do this herself. Grayar's presence in the city had been her rock. Sending him away to bring the army she needed to preserve Marka had been her hardest decision for many years. He had returned to the city and was probably seeking her. He would find her, sooner rather than later. What she had to do, she must do quickly.

And carefully.

Nicolfer was no fool. She knew Sandev would eventually discover her hiding place and try to expel or destroy her. She must pick her way carefully. Her enemy always left traps for the unwary. She might even know her home had been invaded. That door had been left open deliberately.

The rout of Hingast's army was not the end of the war. Many would believe – and many more would hope – that the end of the siege marked peace and an end to the civil war that had wracked the former Markan Empire. Sandev knew better.

She hoped the rumors of Hingast's death were true, but that wouldn't stop Dervra and Nicolfer. They would try something different, try to worm their way into the confidence of another claimant to the Throne. And there were surely more enemies in the city, waiting for the right moment to make their move. Some worked for Dervra, and others had their own agendas. For instance, where were Marlen and his gang?

She could use the Gift to search for the renegade member of the Ten, but remembered the reaction she had suffered the last time she tried that. Best not light a beacon to pinpoint her presence. She paused in the hallway to look up the wooden stairs and down the stone steps that led to the basement. Nicolfer usually preferred down, so Sandev, in contrarian mood, went up. Upstairs was deserted, so she came down again, then followed the stone steps into inky darkness. The smell grew stronger. Mixed with another, more familiar, smell.

She came to a door and gently pushed it open. A solitary light crystal glowed somewhere to her right. Why would those in this house, in a poor district of the city, possess only one crystal and keep it in a cellar, of all places? Sandev's hackles rose, her senses screaming danger. She had company down here.

The familiar sinabra from a sylph smelled strongest here.

A small whimper came from a huddled shape in the center of the cellar and she approached cautiously, caring instincts aroused. A chain led from the shape into the darkness, a chain that chinked as the creature moved, rolling over to see who or what drew near. Silver eyes shone in the gloom, betraying the race to which this prisoner belonged.

" _Donanya? Hna plurana?_ " Almost palpable hope sang in the sylph's voice. " _Se hisha. Muta?_ "

"All right," whispered Sandev, her guard still up as she came closer to the sylph. "I'll help you, where are you hurt?" She remained cautious, but as she reached out a hand, she realized no illusion had been used, the sylph really existed.

The sylph's eyes widened as Sandev touched him, but he did not stare at her, but at something beyond and behind. Too late, and off-balance, she turned.

Her power abandoned her. She could not use the Gift!

"Well met, Sandev."

She completed her turn, the sylph forgotten as she came face to face with Nicolfer, the woman's jet eyes glittering malevolently at her former companion.

"You should have listened to Grayar." Nicolfer managed a smile. "Now, you are powerless." She motioned with a hand and Sandev could no longer move. Nicolfer glanced down at the sylph and motioned again. The chain fell away and the creature convulsed, before he opened his eyes, panting. "Go."

The sylph needed no further encouragement and scrabbled across the floor in his haste to leave.

Nicolfer returned her attention to her prisoner. "I healed him for you," she said. "Aren't I kind? Unlike Dervra, I don't like to see sylphs in pain. The poor creatures are only tools, they can't help themselves. I do hope you're not angry with him. He didn't even know his part in my plan."

Sandev struggled, but could not speak.

"You want to know what I intend to do with you?" Nicolfer's small smile widened. "We're going to see Dervra. Wouldn't you like that? I'm sure he wants to speak with you, after all you've done to thwart his plans. Most unsporting of you, sending Grayar to fetch an army safely out of the way all this distance to destroy us." She pushed her face into Sandev's. "How would you like to spend the next few thousand years as a wandering cripple? I'm sure you would enjoy that so much. To beg as those unfortunate sylphs you used as spies had to. Until your precious sylph monarch destroyed your intelligence network." She shook her head. "And you claim _I_ am cruel."

Sandev stared, sapphire eyes wide. For the first time in many years, she felt real fear.

Moments later, the cellar was empty, save for a solitary light crystal and a chain without a prisoner.

***

Caya opened the door to an insistent knock. "Can I help you?"

The stranger smiled. "I am Sernan Lodern." He flourished a small leather case. "Sandev asked me to conduct a small investigation for her. She is your Mistress?"

Caya nodded. "She will be back soon, I am sure."

Sernan gestured. "Is there somewhere I can wait?"

"Of course." Caya swung the door open wider. "You can wait in the study."

"Thank you." Sernan stepped across the threshold and glimpsed a man lurking in the hallway. A guard for the sylph's protection?

Stanak stepped forward. "Until Sandev returns, I shall keep you company," he offered. "Alovak?"

"Please."

Stanak nodded to Caya who shut the door and pattered away. "The study is through here. Make yourself comfortable. I take it you are a former student?"

Sernan shook his head. "No, my Gift is not so great as to warrant Sandev's personal tutelage. But we are well known to each other. A long story."

Stanak chuckled. "It usually is." He made himself comfortable in one of the chairs and indicated that the visitor should do the same. "Now, what is the work you have completed for Sandev?"

***
**Chapter 25**

The Duel

Zenepha shifted in his seat and masked a sigh. He had so much to do. Trials for the traitors must be arranged, leading – sadly – to certain verdict and painful death. Prisoners to be vetted and put to work or dealt with as that vetting indicated. A suitable response to the petition from the Trading Council, a task now in the hands of Verdin Vintner and the progress of which he must check later. Rebuilding the destroyed and damaged parts of Marka. And, most importantly, distribution of food to those most in need.

Instead, he sat in Coronation Hall, the spacious chamber darkened by timber and tapestries that screened the destroyed window. Worse, the usually faithful Djerana had deserted him, stating she wanted no part in seeing one man kill another in a charade of justice. She had gone walking with Selkina.

Zenepha wanted no part in it either but, as Emperor, he had little choice. The Supreme Council must have a hearing before the duel, to listen to the accusations and denials. Or, as in this case, counter-accusations.

People packed the hall, with most of the chairs removed to fit in even more. Still more thronged outside and Zenepha wondered if there might not be more people here than had attended his coronation. A sobering thought.

He listened to General Ranallic. He paid a lot less attention to him than he had to the man's star witness, Captain Crallin of the City Guard.

"The thing is," Ranallic said, "Kelanus was seen in Branad's tent and, after his arrest, fled from justice."

Olista, who conducted the questioning on Zenepha's behalf, leaned forward. "Seen by Belaika. You call Captain Crallin as your witness, but not the sylph who slept in Branad's tent during the murder."

Those packed within the hall were bipartisan: some supported Kelanus and the rest Ranallic. They, and those who waited outside, were ready to follow their chosen favorite to the field of battle. All seemed eager to see a little more death, even while prisoners still buried corpses and cleared the battle mess before carrion birds did.

"Belaika wishes not to speak," replied Ranallic. "I'm sure he is as disgusted by the act of murder as I."

"And you claim this act was committed because Branad forced Kelanus out of his post?"

"Yes."

"Please explain further, General Ranallic." Olista folded his arms and leaned back again.

As Ranallic launched into a long tirade about the mistreatment and murder of sylphs, allegedly committed by Kelanus, Zenepha allowed himself two sideways glances at his advisors. His attention lingered on Marcus, who – although a rival to the Throne – had proved his loyalty by diving in through the window behind him. And by doing so, saved his life.

Captain Crallin's gaze swept around the hall, as if Zenepha's personal guard was insufficient protection. Having given his evidence, he now probably wanted to see the outcome of the duel. No sign of Sallis ti Ath, but the man wore elusiveness as his trademark.

But Sandev and Grayar's absence surprised Zenepha. Had they boycotted the hearing to show their disgust? Trial by combat sickened Zenepha, but some fool had left it on the statute for Kelanus to exploit. Somebody had told the General of its existence.

"Do you have witnesses to call concerning the events in Sandester?" Olista's voice was quiet.

"There were only the two sylphs who made the allegations," replied Ranallic, spreading his hands.

"So?"

"The authorities decided not to prosecute, so nobody knows what became of those sylphs."

"Sounds careless." Olista's eyes narrowed. "These are serious accusations to make without evidence."

"They were reluctant to face Kelanus in court," replied Ranallic. "I doubt if they would like to do so now, either."

"Sylphs seem reluctant to speak for you, General Ranallic."

"Perhaps they fear Kelanus more than me."

Zenepha gave the interrogation only half his attention. Ranallic had steadfastly and doggedly given so much to the defense of Marka. Kelanus led the army that had lifted the siege. Both had played important roles in recent events, yet one would die today. Unless one ran from the field. Neither man seemed a coward, so that outcome was unlikely.

Zenepha glanced across the packed hall and noted other southerners in the crowd. He noticed Tahena, who appeared to be very attached to Kelanus. She repeatedly threw hostile glares Ranallic's way. The southern mercenaries – who had fought under Branad Vintner and Ranallic before coming to Marka – also directed their hostility towards the General. Why didn't they support one of their own?

Zenepha felt grateful to see two other sylphs in the hall.

Both wore clean white shirts and dark gray breeches. One wore a gold collar, but the other had plain leather at his neck. The countenance of the pair screamed scout, even had Zenepha not recognized them.

Belaika, apparently so reluctant to be a witness, stood beside Neptarik. The latter's earpoints twitched every time he glanced Kelanus's way, almost as if the man was a second owner. Had the scouts attended to lend support? Zenepha doubted if that support would be for Ranallic.

Ranallic finally finished speaking. His case was already well known and, on the face of it, quite damning.

"Thank you, General Ranallic. You may stand down." Olista glanced at the Emperor.

Zenepha forced a smile, though his mouth felt like ash. He was thankful for the circlet that held his earpoints steady.

Belaika now leaned forward in increased interest. If he refused to be called as a witness, why had he come here?

"General Kelanus." Olista quietly called for the other duelist.

Kelanus nodded and stepped forward, his pale blue eyes grave. He glanced quickly at a small area, partitioned and kept clear of people. "Your Majesty." He inclined his head briefly to Zenepha. Ranallic had directed his answers to Olista, but Kelanus spoke to the Emperor.

Kelanus continued. "You've heard Ranallic speak at length of my alleged crimes and the verbal evidence is apparently overwhelming. But there are several points I ask all here to consider before they reach any firm conclusion.

"There was one witness at the murder of Branad Vintner. Put yourself in the place of the murderer: would _you_ leave a witness behind? One who knew me well enough to identify me?

"Why was Branad murdered? Did Marcus Vintner order his murder? If so, why? Branad had renounced his claim before the Senate. Marcus Vintner had nothing to gain. Was it because I wanted revenge because of losing my previous position. Again, why? I now served the man who had just defeated my former employer. What did I have to gain?

"Or did someone else stand to benefit by having _me_ out of the way? Think on who replaced me."

"You were seen." Olista kept his voice quiet.

Kelanus glanced at the Supreme Councilor, but spoke to Zenepha. "Belaika knows me well. He stated in court that although the murderer looked like me, he was certain beyond any doubt that _that person was not me_. Adamant on that point. Do you want me to call Belaika- _y_ -Marcus as witness? His statement is a matter of record."

Zenepha glanced at Belaika, who nodded. "That is unnecessary," he said. "As you say, the scout's testimony is recorded."

Kelanus stared at Zenepha and the sylph saw anguish in his eyes. "Until two years ago I was employed by Branad Vintner, a man I counted – and if he lived would count still – as a friend. I replaced Marshal Mikhan Annada twelve years ago as First General and held that rank for ten years, before Branad terminated my employment concerning allegations made at that time." He sighed. "The allegations concerning improper behavior to, and murder of, sylphs. Though what happened to those who died was far worse than improper.

"Again, let us look at all possible motives.

"That I am guilty as alleged. If this were true, would I leave behind witnesses, especially when all the other sylphs were murdered? And why, after what we think was a spree of sylph mutilation and murder, would I suddenly get careless? Criminals hone and improve their methods; to suddenly leave behind witnesses when before they did not is not an improvement. Those witnesses brought about my fall, but someone else gained much by having me out of the way."

Kelanus looked around the hall before he continued.

"I say that Ranallic Eydren stood to gain most by having me removed from Branad Vintner's army and he stood to gain most when he accused me of Branad's murder."

"But _you_ were _seen_ ," interrupted Ranallic. "There's no getting away from it." He spread his hands in surrender when shushed.

Kelanus ignored the interruption. "Ranallic first came to the attention of Branad Vintner and myself nine years ago. He sought an officer's position in the army. Having been a mercenary myself, I was sympathetic to this and impressed by Ranallic's obvious skill. Thus he began his career with Branad's army as a Lieutenant. We soon realized we had found an able and ambitious officer.

"He proved his skill in the most practical sense over and over, so I promoted him to Senior Lieutenant, then Captain, then Banner Captain in rapid succession. We were forced to invent ranks to promote him to, while waiting for a spare generalship. Eventually, after swinging a battle against Marcus Vintner in our favor –" Kelanus gave the named claimant a wan smile. "– I promoted Ranallic to Third General."

Kelanus paused again. "My Second General fell in battle weeks later and Ranallic was the obvious choice to replace him. Less than three months later, the accusations were made against me. Seven years after Ranallic had joined Branad Vintner. Of course, I offered my services to Marcus Vintner, the reason why Ranallic suddenly found himself again subordinate to me. For a few days, anyway."

Zenepha steepled his fingers as Kelanus again glanced at the small clear area. Some of what the former General had to say had not been heard before. He glanced at Olista, who leaned forward again.

"You escaped from custody," he said. "With help. Where did you and your companions go?"

"To Pensdren, in the far south," replied Kelanus. "Where we met Larna Eydren, at her father's grave. His name was Ranallic Eydren."

An expectant buzz ran through the assembly as everybody in the hall stirred.

"The real Ranallic Eydren took an apprentice by the name of Ellas Panir, to teach him tracking and hunting. Unfortunately, his apprentice had a habit of attacking and murdering sylph males. Male sylphs of marriageable age are not numerous and in a village the size of Pensdren, they were quickly missed.

"The master caught his apprentice Ellas with a sylph. Ellas murdered his master and fled when he realized that more people knew of his predilection. And in the south a man can be tried and proven and sentenced in his absence. Hence the warrant for Ellas Panir's execution."

Kelanus abruptly turned to smile at Ranallic. "Isn't that so, Ellas Panir?"

Ranallic shook his head. "None of this can be corroborated. You can say anything you like, but you have nothing to back it up with. Who is Larna Eydren? Someone you invented, perhaps?"

"This is all very well," interrupted Olista, before the hearing descended to a slanging match. He stared at Kelanus. "But does not explain how you claim innocence when you were seen."

"I have no idea what Ellas Panir got up to in the fifteen years between fleeing the south and becoming a Lieutenant in Branad Vintner's army. However, I do suggest that among the skills he learned is a little known one the Gifted call shapeshifting. Several of the Gifted remarked that Branad's tent stank of sorcery and we know that sylphs feel the Gift – or sorcery – whenever it is used."

"Interesting." Olista blinked.

"Nonsense!" snapped Ranallic.

"Your Majesty?" Kelanus raised his eyebrows.

Zenepha nodded. "That is true; we can all sense the Gift and sorcery, though we do not always know what it is we sense."

Kelanus continued. "The Gifted can test people to find out if they have the Gift inborn, or whether they have ever used sorcery." He smiled at Ranallic. "I'm prepared to take these tests. Are you?"

Ranallic glowered back.

Zenepha suddenly rubbed his arms as something formed in the clear area. Moments later, Grayar and a middle-aged southern woman stood before the court.

The innkeeper from Pensdren stared around the hall and started when she saw who occupied the Throne.

"It's true," breathed Larna Eydren. "There's a sylph on the Throne of Marka."

Grayar grumbled something under his breath while excited mutterings swept through the hall.

Kelanus smiled. "Majesty, this is Larna Eydren. As you can see, she is no invention, but a real person."

Larna's attention fixed on the man who called himself Ranallic Eydren, a cold fury in her dark slanted eyes. Her mouth worked silently for a few moments.

"Ellas Panir," she hissed. "Deviant. Murderer of my father!" Larna reached inside her tunic and withdrew from it a well-read parchment.

Kelanus took it from her fingers and passed it to Zenepha. "This," he said, "is the warrant for Ellas Panir's execution. I have another copy which you are welcome to compare with this."

Zenepha barely glanced at the document. "I'm afraid Hejiller's law holds no sway here," he said, his light voice sad.

"I know." Kelanus smiled. "Which is why I demand the right to trial by combat. Let Siranva decide who speaks the truth."

"You demand it only because a court cannot prove your filthy accusations," retorted Ranallic. He gestured towards Grayar and Larna, but did not look at them. "This is collusion, arranged earlier."

"I doubt if a court can prove your allegations either, General Ranallic," countered Olista, "in the absence of witnesses willing to speak on your behalf. The existence of sorcery is too well known." He turned to Zenepha. "Majesty, there is no reason in law to prevent this trial by combat. These men are both warriors and outlanders. The Law demands such trials are executed while the blood is hot, so we should make our way to the place where such combats were traditionally held."

Zenepha nodded. "Very well."

Larna put a hand on Kelanus's arm. "Forgive me, but I will not stay to watch this." Her dark eyes held hope. "I trust you can...?"

Kelanus smiled. "He's a dead man walking," he replied, softly.

Grayar's piercing blue eyes were not quite so warm. "You'd better know what you're doing," he grunted. "You must excuse me, also. Once I've returned Larna to her inn, I must collect Salu. It's time for us to be on our way home." Moments later, both were gone.

Everybody in the hall turned at a shout. Guardsmen tried to prevent whoever caused the commotion from approaching, without success.

"Your Majesty, you must let me speak."

"Who are you?" asked Zenepha. He nodded to the guardsmen, who stepped back, but kept hands on sword hilts, just in case.

"My name is Sernan Anjak Lodern, Senior Lieutenant in the Sandesteran City Guard." He pointed to a soldier. "He can vouch I am who I say." He pointed out a couple more. "So can he, and him."

The men Sernan pointed to nodded as he spoke.

"Have you anything relevant to our discussion?"

"Only concerning the murder of sylphs in Sandester, Majesty. Murders of which Kelanus still stands accused."

Zenepha sat back. "Speak." He nodded to Olista.

"Unfortunately, a full investigation was not completed at the time of the accusations, because charges were not proceeded with. An investigation was begun, but dropped after initial statements were taken. However, more recently, I was asked to conduct a more thorough investigation, which I have done." Sernan patted his case. "Everything is here."

"What did your investigation discover?" Olista's voice was quiet.

"Two sylphs made the allegations: Teren- _y_ -Veldar and Milen- _y_ -Harrar. Neither would testify, because though they said the man who accosted them _looked_ like Kelanus Arus Butros, both claimed that it was not him. Neither could explain what they meant at the time. I did not understand this, until I heard about _another_ sylph who says he saw a man who looked like Kelanus but was not."

"Are you saying Kelanus has a twin?" Olista cocked an eyebrow.

"No."

"What else did your investigation discover?"

"I tried to trace the two sylphs. One... um, Milen, threw himself from the city walls a week after Kelanus lost his commission. Veldar tells me that his sylph absconded at about the same time and never been seen since. We filed a runaway sylph report at the time, still on record."

"Guilty conscience?" Shock painted Zenepha's face. Thankfully rare, sylph suicide usually only happened after losing a loved spouse, or owner.

"Perhaps. Or the true killer returned to finish the job. I also looked into the other murders. We're not talking about ordinary molestation. There is no delicate way of putting this, Your Majesty. The unfortunate creatures' genitals were removed. Cut away. A very distinctive method. The unfortunates were left to bleed to death."

Kelanus looked towards Tahena and she returned his gaze. "Larna told me that was how the sylphs were killed in Pensdren," he said. "I have Tahena and Neptarik as witnesses."

"I was also asked to learn if any sylphs had died since." Sernan's dark blue eyes were cold.

"And?" Zenepha felt ill. How could _anybody_ behave this way?

"Not in Sandester. The real killer developed more cunning once Kelanus left. Sylphs are not always reported missing and some owners can be, ah, abusive towards their chattels. But I identified three possible victims in the records, all of whom were mutilated in the same way as those murdered in Sandester."

A loud exclamation ran around the hall. Even Ranallic stared in shock.

Sernan continued. "This proves that whoever murdered sylphs in this peculiar way was _not_ Kelanus Butros, who by this time served Marcus Vintner. As such methods of killing are compulsive, rather than controlled behaviors, we can infer that Kelanus is also innocent of the murders prior to his resignation and effective exile."

Olista's expression hardened. "Do you know who did kill them?"

Sernan smiled. "The last three victims were killed with the army camped nearby and senior officers billeted in the same village. Usually when the army had stayed nearby for some time. Checking back to the murders we are aware of in Sandester, I managed to draw up a shortlist of five names. All officers who joined the army nine years ago, when the killings began. Two of those men were killed in the last battle between Marcus and Branad Vintner. Two others are still in Sandester."

"And the fifth?" pressed Olista.

Sernan nodded towards Ranallic. "Is stood right there."

"This is nonsense," protested Ranallic.

Excited conversation ran through the hall.

"Majesty?" Kelanus looked eager.

"This throws new light on everything," said Zenepha, "but my heart is heavy because this still cannot be proved in a court of law. There is no reason to prevent you from exercising your right."

"Of course not." Ranallic sneered. "Majesty, let Siranva show the truth." His dark eyes glittered. "Let Kelanus demonstrate his guilt to the world."

Looking around at the shocked faces in the hall, Zenepha sensed that Ranallic had lost a lot of his supporters in the last few moments. "Gentlemen, it is past time for us to go to the field where this trial by combat will take place."

A City Guardsman placed a hand on Kelanus's arm. "You will come with me, sir."

***

During the First Empire, it had been customary for condemned men to leave the city by the West Gate. Still blocked off as part of Mikhan's defensive measures, the procession from Coronation Hall instead led the two combatants through the North Gate. Half of Hingast's torso hung in a cage, already black with carrion. As Zenepha was there, cheers followed them as people recognized the sylph they believed had led them to victory. So far at least, his reign would be regarded as a success. Outside the city, part of the field had been roped off, long benches set around it for spectators.

Kelanus could see that Zenepha wanted to be elsewhere. The Emperor watched Belaika with some envy as the scout went a different way before they passed through the gates.

More sylphs, mostly scouts, stood outside the walls. They touched fist to heart in salute and called out good wishes to Kelanus, but clearly Neptarik was the only sylph prepared to see the whole thing through. He strode alongside Kelanus in silence.

Minutes later Kelanus and Ranallic, each with a Guardsman, faced each other.

Olista spoke. "In Marka, trials by combat are conducted with the maladi, two apiece. These weapons are light and sharp. The belief is that Siranva will bless those blades held by the innocent man." The Supreme Councilor nodded to the two Guardsmen before taking his seat.

Kelanus stared at the blades presented to him. He lifted one from its box, marveling at the exquisite craftsmanship and the etchings along its curved blade. He hefted it experimentally before taking the second. With one in each hand, he swung them in a crossing figure-of-eight pattern before nodding to the Guardsman.

Ranallic stood with the maladi crossed over his chest, eyes closed, perhaps in silent prayer.

"There are but two rules," continued Olista. "Whoever leaves the field of battle has lost the duel. If one kills the other, he has his victory." He nodded to the Guardsmen, who stepped back.

Ranallic's eyes snapped open. With a loud cry, he rushed forward, blade meeting blade. Kelanus parried, keeping his movements to a minimum. Ranallic had always preferred to attack, to hit fast and hard. It sometimes cost him battles and Kelanus trusted it would also cost him the duel.

The blades made more sound than either man expected. Ranallic already had the measure of them and his movements become more economical, which was not really what Kelanus wanted.

The outlander General, slanted eyes burning with hate and fury, probed everywhere, looking to exploit weak points in his opponent's defense. The maladi flashed in the sunlight: locking, sliding, slipping free and flashing again as those who wielded them used the weapons to best advantage.

Kelanus began to sweat, aware Ranallic's ambidexterity gave him an advantage. The blades locked again.

"Tired already?" Ranallic broke away.

Kelanus felt coldly aware that he already struggled; he had not realized trials by combat were fought with two blades. He could do nothing but meet and turn aside his opponent's blows. He inwardly winced as a nick on his right arm announced first blood to Ranallic.

The crowd drew its breath and some cheered. Kelanus's supporters surged forward, held back by the City Guard. A part of Kelanus was distantly aware of the risk of a bloodbath, no matter who won the duel. He pushed everything out of mind, except the enemy and his weapons.

Once again, Ranallic slipped under his guard and left another telltale line of red, this time near his shoulder. The man toyed with him! Ranallic wanted him helpless before the kill.

So far, Kelanus had let Ranallic attack. Now he pushed ruthlessly, driving his enemy back, swinging with both maladi, trying and failing to disguise the fact that he was all but useless with a weapon in his left hand.

Lunging with both weapons slanted ahead, Kelanus stumbled as Ranallic sidestepped and a booted foot casually swept his legs from under him. He landed awkwardly on his injured shoulder and only just managed to muffle his cry. Smiling, Ranallic swished his left maladi down towards Kelanus's throat...

***

After escorting Larna home, Grayar projected back to Marka. He returned to Coronation Hall just as the procession left the building. He rolled the focus around the palm of his hand. Time to do to the foci what Sandev should have done as she discovered them.

Leaving the building, he sighed as he saw the rear of the entourage headed for the trial by combat. A familiar blue-skinned figure slipped the other way. He hurried to catch up.

"Belaika."

The scout looked over his shoulder and recognized Grayar. He slowed his step so the shorter human could catch up without rushing.

"Discover anything?" asked Grayar.

The sylph stopped. His earpoints shot bolt upright and his eyes widened. "Sandev- _ya_ did not pass on my message?"

"No."

Belaika's mouth moved soundlessly for a few moments. "Salter's Lane, villa with three stories, only one with eight windows at the front and no gargoyles for water drains. Found it, came to see you, but you were gone, so told Sandev. Thought she would tell you."

"It's all right; I know you did your duty." The scout was clearly out of countenance, coming this close to babbling. "You've done no wrong. Go in peace with my thanks."

Grayar did not wait to hear the sylph's reply, but hurried through the streets to pause outside Sandev's house. Disquiet ailed him. He hoped she was home.

Caya opened the door almost before he stopped knocking and her earpoints wilted when she saw him.

"Sorry to disappoint you," grunted Grayar, a little annoyed by the sylph's reaction. "Can I come in?"

The tall sylph nodded, but she seemed distracted. Her eyes focused on Grayar abruptly. " _Anya_ has not returned," she said.

Hearing her owner's voice, Salu shot into the hallway and flung herself at him. He hugged her absently.

"Where did she go?" demanded Grayar.

"She went out last night and has not come back. I do not know where."

"Caya has been worried ever since," whispered Salu.

"Something has happened to her, I know it!" The female sylph wiped angrily at her eyes.

"All right, don't take on. Where are Stanak and Janin?" Grayar led the sylphs to the main living room and sat Caya on one of the stools. He motioned for Salu to stay close to her.

"In the study," replied Salu.

"Something has happened to her," repeated Caya.

"Let me speak with Stanak," said Grayar.

His thoughts turned over quickly. Sandev had no reason to stay out, unless she had acted on Belaika's information. That would not surprise him.

"Stay with her," he told his own sylph. He went through to the study.

Stanak rose to his feet. "I'm glad to see you," he said.

Janin, still in scouting paint, nodded agreement.

"Do you know if Sandev went after Nicolfer?" asked Grayar.

"Probably. I was helping with the city's defense."

"I suspect she's fallen into a trap."

The other human's gray-blue eyes narrowed in sudden concentration. "If you're going to look for her, I'll come with you."

"And me," added Janin, despite looking exhausted.

"You're staying here." Stanak stared the scout down.

The sylph's earpoints wilted.

"Caya is understandably upset," said Grayar. "Salu will help, but she's only an infertile. It's very important to have someone here she knows, someone to look after her. Janin?"

The scout looked unimpressed and said no more.

" _Enya_ , where are you going?" Salu stood in the doorway.

Grayar gave his sylph a faint smile. "To get Sandev back," he said. "It seems we're not going home just yet."

Salu did not return the smile. "Nothing goes quite as you plan," she grumbled.

Grayar turned to Stanak. "You don't possess the Gift, but your sword may be useful. I'm told that Nicolfer is – or was – at a villa in Salter's Lane."

"We'd best get moving then."

***

Kelanus parried again and again. Blood stained his shirt in several places. He had no idea how he'd managed to survive for so long, given that agony lanced through his right arm every time he used the maladi. His left arm felt little better. Thankfully, Ranallic's arms were in a similar state and the shorter outlander had slowed as badly as his opponent.

Kelanus had long forgotten the near miss after his enemy had tripped him and nearly ended the duel. It seemed as though many hours had passed, though it could not be more than fifteen minutes since the fight began. Fifteen minutes, when most sword fights were over in a couple of strokes.

His mind coldly calculated Ranallic's potential moves and worked out ways to counter them. And to attack. He weakened, but so too did the outlander, even if the maladi were more deftly employed in his opponent's hands. As if from a great distance, he heard Neptarik shout.

" _Hegra cloc vutratanut, Kelanus-ya! Zhenya!_ "

Kelanus almost laughed. Any sylph, no matter how respectful, urging him, _commanding_ him to get his act together (though what Neptarik actually said was much coarser than this), trod dangerous ground. But why did he call to the Father?

Something deep inside stirred.

Ranallic detected it and his eyes widened.

The pain left Kelanus and tiredness drained away. The gathered crowd may as well not have existed. Man and maladi were as one. Everything else moved as if time had somehow slowed and, like Sallis ti Ath, Kelanus could now move within it more quickly...

He drove Ranallic back effortlessly, maladi clashing against maladi, his own catching the light, the sound of blade meeting blade distorting in his time-dulled ears. With two gigantic swings, he smashed both of his opponent's maladi without damaging his own.

He brought his two blades back to the ready, prepared to remove Ranallic's head from his shoulders and finish a life that should have ended more than twenty years ago. But the man gave Kelanus a triumphant smile.

Then Ranallic was gone.

Time returned to normal. Kelanus felt pain and fatigue wash back into him. He gasped and fought tears that pricked behind his eyes. A constriction in his throat threatened his breathing.

The crowd stood in shocked silence, unable to believe what they had witnessed. One moment Ranallic stood before them, then gone. Vanished. Kelanus stared into the sky and at the ground, fearing his opponent had shapeshifted into something poisonous. The only thing he could see was a large black beetle, which he crushed underfoot, just in case.

Zenepha stood, eyes wide. "I declare that Ranallic has left the field," he announced. "General Kelanus is the victor and, by right of combat, has cleared his name of all charges!"

Kelanus's supporters cheered and surged forward. The lithe Neptarik, silvery gray eyes dancing with delight, was the first to reach him, tugging at his hand.

Kelanus forced a weak smile for the sylph, but his head hung with exhaustion.

"What trickery is this?" Some of Ranallic's supporters now recovered from their shock. "Sorcery?"

Balnus came not far behind his sylph and congratulated his commander. More people added their voices to the praise and Marcus could be seen smiling benignly from his place beside Zenepha.

"Well," muttered Kelanus, hugging Balnus around his shoulders, "that had better end the rumors."

Balnus smiled and replied with something he failed to understand.

Kelanus gave the scout a puzzled frown. "Why did you shout to me?"

The sylph grinned and bobbed his head. "I just thought you needed a little encouragement, _donenya_."

"Whatever, it worked." Kelanus switched his attention as Marcus joined them. He bowed to the claimant and a mischievous light entered his eyes. "Sir, I understand you have a fresh vacancy for a field commander."

Marcus nodded. "Congratulations on your appointment, General Kelanus. I trust you're not going to stand around all day. In case you've forgotten, we have work to do."

***

Panting, Sallis ti Ath fell onto all fours, sweat bursting from every pore. It dampened his clothes, ran through his hair and dripped from his brow. The tiny, distant figures flocked around Kelanus like ants.

That had been the hardest thing he had ever done. He had no idea how he'd managed it, only that he had accomplished something every other Gifted said was impossible.

Some would say his actions were unethical. Perhaps so, but the right man had won the duel.

***

Light from the solitary light crystal failed to penetrate the furthest corners of the dank cellar. Darker shadows swallowed Grayar's as he entered. He listened to Stanak clumping about as he checked the upper stories. Grayar already knew they were alone in the villa. He poked at the chain with a foot and grunted.

"All clear upstairs," said Stanak, joining Grayar. He grimaced in distaste. "Sandev was held here?"

"Not with this," replied Grayar, poking the chain with his foot again. He sniffed at the air. "Sinabra."

"There were sylphs here?" Stanak looked incredulous.

"One, very recently. Probably the one we passed on the way in."

"What one we passed?"

Grayar smiled faintly. "Your concern for your employer is commendable, but don't let it blind you to everything else. The sylph sat on the lawn to the right. We'll pick him up when we leave."

Stanak glanced at his companion with increased respect. "How was Sandev held? How could Nicolfer capture her?"

"Dervra managed to hold me with some new way of blocking the Gift, against which I was helpless. I've not since had time to try and work out a counter to it."

Stanak's gray-blue eyes suggested that the respect he held for Grayar had diminished once more. "And Sandev suffered as a result."

"Don't worry too deeply about Sandev," replied Grayar. "She's more than capable of looking after herself. She'll find a way around this block. Both the Gift and sorcery are infinitely malleable for an adept."

"Anything we can do here?"

Grayar shook his head.

As the two men left Nicolfer's recent residence, Grayar nodded to his left. A sylph male, as ragged as a beggar from his general appearance, squatted on the overgrown lawn, hands on knees. He eyed the two men warily and his silvery gray eyes widened as he returned Grayar's apparently casual glance. Both men positioned themselves between the villa and the street.

"Don't let him run," urged Grayar in a whisper. He raised his voice. "Boy!"

The sylph stood, but made no other move. He said nothing.

"What do we need him for?" whispered Stanak.

Grayar ignored the question and stepped forward. Despite being taller than both humans, the sylph looked overawed.

"We won't hurt you," promised Grayar. "I want you to answer a few questions, nothing more."

The sylph looked even warier.

"Do you know who lived here?" asked Grayar, quietly.

The sylph nodded, his eyes even wider.

"I know her as Nicolfer," prompted Grayar. "Did you live with her?"

The sylph's expression was carefully blank. "Cruel woman," he remarked. "Nasty. She hurt me, to –" His mouth snapped shut.

"Go on," urged Stanak, subsiding only as Grayar laid a cautionary hand on his arm.

Grayar's full attention returned to the sylph. "What's your name?"

The sylph looked even more defensive and fear crept into his expression.

"I'm Grayar and this is Stanak. What is your name?"

The sylph visibly struggled with himself before he replied. "Tangan."

Grayar nodded. "Was that name given to you by your mother or your owner?"

"By my mother. More or less."

"Can we get back to Sandev?" demanded Stanak, irritably. "That's why we're here, not to find out if some raggedy sylph's name was given to him by his mother or not. What does _that_ matter?" He worried more for his employer.

The sylph suddenly became animated. "Sandev!" he exclaimed. "Trapped by the one I served! Sandev!"

"What happened to her?" Stanak's voice was bleak. "Where was she taken? The house is empty!"

Tangan's face fell. "I do not know. When I fled, they did not follow." His body tensed, as if expecting punishment.

"Physical projection," said Grayar. "As you say, the house is empty now." He sniffed. "Have you been in sight all the time?"

Tangan nodded.

"They might still be in the city." Hope strengthened Stanak's voice, while the sylph, uncertain now, looked from one to the other.

"Unlikely." Grayar turned back to the sylph. "You come with us."

Tangan nodded again. He obeyed meekly and followed at a respectful distance. Stanak turned back now and then to ensure the sylph was still there, but Grayar seemed completely unconcerned whether he stayed in company or ran away.

"What do you want him for?" Stanak demanded of Grayar, keeping his voice low. "Nicolfer probably left him behind for a reason."

"That is true," replied Grayar, his voice at its normal level. "We'll introduce him to the other sylphs back at the villa."

"Why?"

Grayar smiled, but said nothing.

Three steps behind, Tangan's mind whirled. _If you knew, you would not take me with you. I want to tell you, but dare not, cannot! The Father help me, your enemy can control me, like she is inside._ He looked at Stanak's back. _If I say, you will kill me._ His gaze switched to Grayar's back. _She used me to lure your friend Sandev to captivity. And now she has aimed me at you._

He followed placidly. His bare feet made no noise on the paving stones as he walked.

_How can I tell you that she will use me_ _to kill you?_

***

Zenepha leaned against the walls, thin shoulders shaking. Fire torches and light crystals lit the area where the prisoners still labored to dig graves for the dead. Not all the corpses were soldiers; many civilians had died in the frequent bombardments. Even sylphs. Three sylph scouts – all Markans – had died when the gates were breached. He had suggested using sylphs from Marka as scouts, so he must be partly responsible for those deaths. His face twisted in anguish. His personal guard knew him well enough to give him space, though the new members were yet to learn as much about him as those they replaced. There were no graves for the dead horses; these were butchered for meat. The city starved and the people must be fed somehow. Even Marcus Vintner's beast, Jablon, who had died so Zenepha could live. He felt a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Majesty, you must care for the living, your people need you," intoned Marshal Mikhan Annada. "Weeping for the dead doesn't help them."

Zenepha turned his tearstained face to his marshal and, he hoped, his friend. "After what they have given, the dead deserve my tears," he replied. "I'll care for the living in the morning."

***

The rendezvous point lay deep in the forest. Most the camp retainers had stayed there during the siege: farriers and fletchers, coopers and cooks, laundresses and sylphs. The multitude of followers and supporters an army needed to function. Tents were set up, waiting for occupants, but many would remain empty. Dervra looked around at the glum faces and steeled himself. These people needed a leader and he had one to give them.

Inside the anteroom of Hingast's tent, Dervra had gathered a few senior officers. Marshal Janost and General Hanan were present, though the latter had only appeared late on, with a handful of survivors. Kelanus had cut most of his men to pieces, or else taken prisoners. One man he would not have been upset to lose – Kanad Tanur – had also managed to flee. Hingast's choice to rule Marka had the siege proved a success, but not Dervra's favorite candidate. Marlen Masser and a few of the men who had infiltrated Marka long ago were there. Despite Hingast's belief that they worked for him, these were Dervra's men. With a stab of pain, he assumed that Petan must be dead, as he had not appeared.

And five hundred soldiers, though more dribbled in as time passed. The pathetic remnant of the grand army Hingast had so confidently predicted would sweep Marka and install him as Emperor.

Dervra hid a grimace as he wondered how many were still to come. He waited now only for Nicolfer; once they were together, those who had not found their way would be abandoned to their fate.

"They will be disappointed in Eldova when we return," muttered Kanad.

"Why is that?" asked Dervra, maintaining politeness.

"Why?" Kanad's eyes bulged. "We are defeated; it is over!"

"It is never over."

"Hingast is dead!"

"You think so." Dervra forced a smile.

"We saw his head cut from his body! He –"

Everybody stared as a man left the inner tent. A man who had kept out of sight, who had taken no part in the discussions. A man with broad shoulders and black hair curling at the nape of his neck. Gray-blue eyes fixed them in a cold, arrogant gaze. He nodded to them and disappeared back to the inner tent.

"As you've just seen," said Dervra, "Hingast is not dead, we have not lost."

Marlen smiled, while the rest of the entourage stared in disbelief.

"What sorcery is this?" whispered Janost.

Dervra laughed. "Call it what you will. Hingast lives. He'll return hope to our people and stiffen their resolve. We fight on. You have your orders gentlemen. I want us ready to move at a moment's notice. Today, you will learn about turning adversity to your advantage."

The commanders stood and left the tent. Dervra waited until they were all gone before pushing his way into the inner tent.

"Shouldn't you knock, or something?" asked the man who now called himself Hingast. "Not just barge in here?"

Dervra forced a smile. "Apologies, Majesty."

"Majesty." The other man savored the word. "I do like the sound of _that_."

"I'm sure you do. Any problems holding yourself as you are?"

"None."

"We must work on your voice. Manipulate your vocal cords to change tone and pitch, but we must work on that accent. Nobody will know the difference when we're done."

Thankful for the thick tapestries that killed almost all sound against eavesdroppers, the two men worked hard on accent and tone for almost two hours. After Dervra left, the man who now called himself Hingast stepped up to a mirror and inspected himself carefully. He would do.

"I am a claimant to the Throne," he said aloud, his voice a perfect imitation of the real Hingast. "No, I'm the _true_ claimant to the Throne. There is only a sylph between it and me. A sylph Emperor, a sylph _boy_ , who is far too pretty for masculinity."

He threw his head back and laughed.

***

" _Enya_!"

Recognizing the voice, Sajalan turned. The one person he truly loved trotted toward him, a huge smile splitting her pretty pixie face. Formerly of Hingast's army, which he had joined for loot and pillage, Sajalan found himself unemployed. For now.

"Meylka!"

Infertile sylph and human hugged.

"Thought I had lost you, _enya_ ," snuffled the sylph.

Sajalan stroked the small creature's long silver hair. "Not yet," he reassured her. He thought _he_ had lost _her_ , afraid that she might be on her way back to Eldova with the rest of the army not dead or captured. That bothered him a lot more than he cared to admit. He should have known she would not leave without him.

The sylph looked up, her earpoints and eyes showing concern. "What will we do now you work for nobody?"

Sajalan smiled. "The City Guard have interviewed me and they agree I'm no threat to Marka, which is good news."

Meylka waited for her master to explain further.

"They offered land, provided I took a couple of itinerant sylphs, but I'm no farmer. My skills involve swords and pikes, so I applied to join the City Guard. Got an interview tomorrow." He grinned at her.

Meylka could not contain a delighted smile and her earpoints twitched in pleasure. Perhaps she might get some new clothes; the woolen shirt and breeches she wore now were about ready to fall off her.

"A few of the lads have applied to join the City Guard or the Vintner Army." He shook his head. "The Emperor is very forgiving. A sylph."

"A sylph who beat our army." It sounded as if Meylka's loyalties still lay with Eldova. She believed sylphs served humans, not the other way about. She snuggled closer.

"Have you found anywhere for us to sleep yet?" she asked.

Sajalan grimaced. "Not yet," he replied. "Soon."

***

Belaika- _y_ -Marcus cuddled Eleka. Seeing his _anakya_ at Zandra's side had proved one of the proudest moments of his life. His experience told him that the women of Marka had arrived just in time to help throw back the invader. He also knew that, if not for the women, the casualties would have been much higher even after Kelanus appeared. And possibly resulted in Hingast's victory.

He stroked his wife's earpoints gently and felt pleasure as she murmured something unintelligible in appreciation. He and Eleka were not alone in the apartment, but they were left alone. He was grateful for that. Though he had no problem with open expressions of love, like most sylphs he did not approve of open lovemaking. Eleka twisted round to look into his face.

"It does not matter if the next one is not a boy," she whispered. "I promise to find you a second wife."

Belaika smiled. "I do not want a second wife," he replied. "There is no sylph anywhere in the world to compare with you."

Eleka flushed a brighter blue. "Even so, with Salafisa –"

"With the gwerin, you are senior wife no matter what." Belaika smiled at her. In a family, position and rank within the hierarchy meant everything. Unlike firstborn children who were always firstborn, a wife's position could change for the worse if a boy or a gwerin was born to a junior. In the sylph hierarchy, gwerins ranked higher than any other sylph because of the high value humans placed on them. So a gwerin conferred higher status on the mother. It was a complicated system to both outsiders and sylphs.

"Yes," came the candid reply.

"If you want me to have a second wife, I will support you," he said after a moment's pause. Sylph wives were fierce about their rank. The senior wife held a higher status than the junior wife or wives. Once there were two breeding females, they could always outvote Belaika on some things. He would have to submit to that, as sylphs were democratic in outlook, but there would always be times when one of the wives would side with him against the other. Little wonder that humans had time to do so many things: they merely dictated to more junior members, while sylphs wasted so much of the day working out who stood where in relation to whom they had no time for much else.

He grunted as Eleka poked him. "What you laughing at?" she demanded. "And do not say 'nothing'."

Belaika changed what he had been about to say. "Just a thought." He looked at his wife, eyes glowing.

Eleka looked back at him, grinned, then rolled over so she looked down at him.

"Let us try again for a son," she whispered.

***
**Epilogue**

Reward

Kytra stood among the ship's officers and looked around the deck of the brand new _Velvet Moon_. Her good earpoint stood upright in excitement and twitched in contentment. Frost clung to spars and rigging as yet untouched by the sun and the small sylph shivered. She was unused to northern winters and even the locals claimed this one had been the harshest for many years. She'd spent most of the past season wadded with layers of breeches, shirts and tunics, and even worn soft boots during the coldest snap. Her only consolation was that the southern crew, with sun-darkened faces and slanted eyes, had suffered as badly.

The pleasant warm sunshine hinted at the spring to come and a winter all but spent. Where it touched deck and rope, mast and metalwork, steam rose gently. The ship had not yet tasted salt water, her planks still untested by wind and wave. Kytra had watched the ship, _her_ ship, grow from _Builder's Drawing Number 876_ , through the keel laying ceremony and plank steaming to now, the day of her launch.

She glanced up at the masts and across to the yards resting on the deck. She smiled at the snowy sails, bent on just the day before. The compass and oars had arrived the day before that. Without these things, trials were impossible. Gulls rode the wind overhead, aware this ship was not yet a source of food. The blue sky stretched as far as she could see. A perfect day for launching.

Only it wasn't to be what she considered a proper launching.

In Hejiller, ships were built on slips and launched by sliding down into the water. Here, _Velvet Moon_ sat in a drydock that would be flooded at the appropriate moment and then floated out.

Kytra flinched as several shipbuilder's men dashed past with a rope. She almost clung to Sailing Master Kaniko, still frightened of northern men. She screwed her eyes shut and cursed herself for foolishness. These men were not Lynar Frist, ready with fists to batter a vulnerable ship's sylph on a whim. Frist was dead and gone. Her hand almost touched her permanently wilted earpoint, a legacy of Frist's savagery.

Another stirred within and she silently apologized for forcing the ship to remember the past. Time to wall that away; Kaniko, the ship's officer charged with her care, had proved a far kinder taskmaster than her previous owner.

She looked up again as Captain Gardo's hand gripped her shoulder, his dark, slanted eyes smiling at her.

"Just waiting for the word," he said.

Kytra glanced at the high walls of the dock, aware that when it flooded and the ship floated, she would be able to see what lay about. Of course, she already knew what surrounded her, but watching Cadister come into sight would prove as exciting as landfall. A brief glance at the men stood beside the large wheels that opened the sluices. The sea lay just beyond the caisson.

The beautiful, endless sea.

She smiled. "Do it."

Gardo raised a hand and the wheels turned. Water spurted around the caisson and raced along the dock bottom, lapping against the blocks on which the ship rested. As more water foamed along the sides, Kytra felt expectation stir within. The ship was aware of the water climbing towards her keel, climbing ever upward as the sluices were opened further. The sylph knew she did, for she felt the ship's emotion constrict her own throat. She glanced at the gulls again. The breeze had freshened, but she and the ship were sheltered in the dock. That was about to change.

The hull gave a small creak and gently vibrated, as the water shifted her on the blocks. The sylph looked at the join between two granite slabs, part of the dock wall. Not her imagination; the ship lifted. She was afloat.

Cheers from crew and builders as, with a final shudder, the ship broke free from the blocks that had held her immobile until now. She was still held of course; lines secured her to land, a newborn not yet trusted to swim alone. Another sylph waved to Kytra from the dockside, almost dancing with pleasure. Of course, Cloudy would not miss this.

As the ship continued to rise, the shortened tree trunks serving as side-shores fell away, pulled clear by dockmen armed with hooks. Though no longer possible to see water spurting into the dock, convulsions showed more being pumped in. Detritus from the ship's construction twirled and bobbed in the turbulence. Surroundings came into view and the fresh breeze began to whip Kytra's long hair.

After a single glance, she ignored Cadister, having eyes only for the sea as the morning sunshine reflected from it like a million jewels. White horses topped some waves, but nothing to worry a new ship. Along the quay, just refloated after her yearly overhaul, lay _Flying Cloud_ , already taking on cargo for her first journey south of the year. _Velvet Moon_ would join her for her maiden voyage, carrying a cargo for the first time.

The water's turbulence eased and the sylph felt the ship surge again, aware of something like a sigh echo in her mind. Men heaved on the long lines that maneuvered the caisson, pulling it away from the drydock. The sylph almost leapt forward with glee, aware that the ship strained to be free of the land, to sail with nothing but deep water beneath her keel.

Pulled clear at last, men secured the caisson before, using ropes, they gently walked the ship to a berth immediately astern of her sister ship. Gardo's hand increased its grip on the sylph's shoulder, and the Captain smiled at her.

"Well?" he asked.

"The ship is happy," replied Kytra.

Kaniko was already busy, pattering up and down the deck, peering over the side of the rowing platform, ensuring fenders were placed correctly and that nothing fouled the ship during her first move. The hull planks creaked reassuringly, settling into their designed places as salt water lapped them for the first time. There would be leaks, even the _Flying_ _Cloud_ in her nineteenth year had leaks when she first left dock. But they would not last long.

Aware of the ship feeling herself and checking everything over, Kytra could sense only satisfaction from the ship, perhaps mingled with a little awe. The largest ship ever to bear the name _Velvet Moon,_ Kytra felt awed herself.

"How does it feel?" shouted Cloudy, keeping pace with the ship as the dockmen tugged her along.

Kytra said nothing, but grinned and raised both fists in a gesture of happiness at a job well done. She stayed beside Captain Gardo as the crew checking for leaks below reported back.

Gardo looked down at the ship's sylph.

Kytra looked up at the Captain.

"The ship is sound," said Gardo. "Some weepage here and there, but easing already. An excellent job by the shipbuilders."

Kytra glanced out to sea and smiled.

"The moment the dockmen have finished with us, get the ties off those sails," she said. "The ship wants to feel deep water again."

Her gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

On freedom.

***

The end of _Markan Throne_.

***

**Nicholas A. Rose** is the author of the Ilvenworld novels. He enjoys everything to do with the sea, the outdoors and the mountains, which he finds inspirational. Nicholas also enjoys the rather more sedentary pastimes of chess, reading, real ale and, of course, writing.
