Markan Throne Page 5

  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 fo
r 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 Zenep
ha 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."