Markan Throne Read online

  "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 w
ith 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 qu
ite 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!