Fared Amel Granton leaned forward to better hear the Wise One's whispered words.
Only a select few in Kelthane boasted a properly Markan name, instead of the more usual that, or son of, between given and parental name. For more than two centuries, these few and their descendants had helped protect their adopted homeland from the attentions of the less savory. They helped defend a people who sheltered and succored them in return.
Their ancestors had come from Marka, commanded to leave the city by its last true ruler, Emperor Evlander, the Empire collapsing about them. They were the Shadow Riders.
Fared commanded the Shadow Riders, a post he would hold for life. The Shadow Riders restricted themselves to no more than six hundred. Many were now indigenous Kelthanians, as those of Markan descent grew rarer. None of the Riders had ever seen Marka. Honor, Service and Glory was their ancient motto, sworn with one hand gripping a dagger until blood was drawn.
A spasm seized the Wise One and she reached up with suddenly strong arms to grasp Fared's shirt collar, watery blue eyes clear as ice.
"You must go east," she whispered.
Fared leaned further forward to catch her words. Instructions from a vision? After all, she was Gifted.
"Home?" Fared's own blue-gray eyes brightened.
"East." Those eyes were insistent. "Seek the banner sylph."
"A banner with a sylph emblem on it?"
The Wise One shook her head. "Sylph as bannerman. Sylph with a warrior's fire. Seek him. The banner sylph."
Fared blinked. Sylphs did not carry banners and they were not warriors. Sylphs took no part in fighting.
"I don't understand." Fared shook his head. "What sort of sylph is a bannerman?"
The Wise One wrapped herself in her blanket and fell asleep.
Fared turned to his companion. "What did you make of that?"
Samrita moved closer; her earpoints twitched and her hazel sylph-slit eyes held a thoughtful expression. Not only had the gwerin seen Marka, she had been born and raised there.
"Up to you whether you follow her counsel. Her visions have always proved true before." She shrugged. "Not being Gifted, I cannot help you in your decision. She might tell us more when she wakes again."
"Just when I could use gwerin advice most, you fall silent on me." Fared admired Samrita; she remembered the last days, before the Empire's fall.
The gwerin grimaced. "Perhaps it is time to go home," she said. "If Kelthane can survive without us. We seek this... banner sylph. A warrior." She shook her head in disgust. Warlike sylphs were as much a mystery to her as to Fared. "One with a warrior's fire."
"Home." Fared ignored the gwerin's spoken thoughts. He could not contain a delighted smile. "The Jewel of the World. Marka."
Samrita nodded. Unlike in Kelthane, sylphs and gwerins did not remain free in Marka.
"Yes," she replied vaguely. "Home."
***
VII: Haema
Nicolfer's carriage turned into one of the many quiet backstreets in Eldova and halted outside the music shop, unobtrusively squeezed between two warehouses. The few people out took one look at the plain black carriage and hurried about their chores. They did not want to know what business one of the Prefect's agents might have with a lowly music man.
"Wait here," commanded Nicolfer, as she stepped from the carriage.
The coachman said nothing, but obeyed.
Inside, musical instruments lined the walls and a man looked up from his work. A breeding female sylph worked alongside him, her pen scratching on parchment. Her blue tongue protruded and her earpoints were bolt upright in concentration as she worked.
After a quick glance, she ignored the newcomer.
"May I help you?" The man had a pleasant expression; interested inquiry shone in his eyes and a slight smile turned his lips.
"You are Jinsla?" asked Nicolfer.
The man drew himself a little more upright. "Jinsla Renkra, composer and builder of musical instruments. I also sell sheet music. I have composed –"
"Among other things, you have composed several pieces that might be construed as treason." Nicolfer smiled. "And I am told your sylph is literate."
The sylph looked up from her work and her earpoints slanted forward. As she took in Nicolfer properly for the first time, her eyes widened.
Jinsla was thrown off balance. People never came to his shop to accuse him of treason. "Haema." He gestured to the sylph. "She's not literate in the true sense of the word. But she is intelligent."
"She can read and write musical notation." It was not a question.
"Yes. May I offer alovak?"
"No need." Nicolfer's jet eyes glittered. She watched Haema blink and put her pen down. The sylph looked from Jinsla to Nicolfer and back.
"What is it you want with Haema?" asked Jinsla.
"Just to borrow her for a vital task. I'm sure His Majesty will overlook your treason when that task is complete."
A look of horror crossed the sylph's face and her earpoints wilted.
"What task?" asked Jinsla.
"Our enemies use sylphs as scouts. They communicate with each other by whistles and we need to learn what they say. Our codebreakers cannot hear the whistles as they are pitched too high for human hearing. Our sylphs can hear the whistles, but we have so far been unable to train any to break codes. So we need a sylph to write the whistles in musical notation. Then our codebreakers can work on them."
"You intend taking Haema away." Jinsla was aware of his sylph's distress.
"I'm afraid so as she must be in the field to hear the whistles. I hope she is not needed for very long."
"I can't let you take her."
"Very well. But your next visit will be from the City Patrol who want you to answer charges of treason."
"Treason?" Jinsla's eyes widened. "A piece of music, treason?"
Haema put a hand on her owner's arm. "I will do it, enya," she said, only a slight tremor in her voice. "For you."
Nicolfer smiled and lifted a purse. "There is remuneration."
Jinsla relented, concerned more about the charges of treason than because his sylph had spoken or a heavy purse had been offered. "You can have her tomorrow, when I –"
"Now," insisted Nicolfer. "Anything she needs I can buy."
Jinsla and Haema exchanged a look. The composer slumped and shook his head.
"I'm sorry, but this is necessary." Nicolfer turned to Haema. "My carriage is outside. Get in it, please. I'll join you in a moment."
Haema gave her owner's hand a last squeeze before she left the shop, feet dragging. Nicolfer watched as the sylph climbed into the carriage.
"Close the blinds," suggested Nicolfer. "You never know who's watching. Don't want to be robbed of this, do you?" She hefted the purse again.
Jinsla blinked before he complied, aware of Haema's frightened gaze from the carriage. He forced a smile.
As promised, Nicolfer did not take long and she gave the sylph a compassionate look as she climbed into the carriage.
"What you are about to do may save lives and help Eldova defeat her enemies." She lifted her voice. "Drive on!"
The carriage jerked forward and Haema looked over her shoulder at her old life. She whimpered.
"You can stop that," said Nicolfer. "You'll rejoin your owner when I've finished with you, I promise."
Nicolfer, aware of what Haema was looking at, drew her cloak over her purse, as fat and heavy as before. The sylph's earpoints wilted completely. She was intelligent enough to realize that no money had changed hands.
Nicolfer forced a smile, wanting to put the sylph at ease. "We shouldn't be too long in the field."
Behind them, the music shop was silent, and lifeless.
***
Chapter 1
Hunting
Banner Sergeant Yochan looked at the heavens and shivered in the predawn gloom, his breath clouding in the chill air. Shooting stars whizzed through the night sky and the soldier watched with interested curios
ity. Exactly one year ago, on a day as cold as this, two claimants to the then vacant Markan Throne had clashed. That battle triggered events in which soldiers from both armies were now caught, this time as allies, if not exactly friends.
Done staring at the heavenly display, he ducked into his commander's tent, the only one with an uncovered light crystal.
"Good morning, Banner Sergeant."
Yochan grunted what might have been the correct response. Lance Captain Dekran's advancement from Lieutenant had only been confirmed immediately before they left Marka, months after his field promotion.
"News from the sylphs, Sergeant?"
"Not yet, sir. But Belaika can't be too far away from them now."
"Good."
"There have been a lot of pingers," continued Yochan. "But we're still out of contact."
Sylphs gave the name pingers to short ranging whistles, which ensured they were still in touch with each other and in position correctly. They were also used to keep contact with other patrols.
Dekran grimaced. "If I thought our orders would have brought us this far west, I would've insisted on fully trained scouts."
Yochan nodded. "We've only got Belaika."
"Fhionnen's not bad. He can at least compose messages and not just pass them on."
"True. But all the hardest tasks fall to Belaika and that's not fair."
Dekran smiled. "You seem to have taken quite a shine to our leader's sylph."
"We have an agreement, but this is more a question of fairness."
"What can we do? It takes five years to train a sylph up to the required standard and our Emperor was in a hurry to increase the corps' size."
Silence stretched between them. Dekran referred to Emperor Zenepha, a surprise candidate for the vacant Markan Throne. A sylph. Neither man could quite believe it. Having a sylph as Emperor in Marka caused consternation, ridicule and awe in equal measures everywhere they went. A sylph ruling humans was an idea so preposterous that nobody quite knew how to deal with it, human or sylph. Belief systems had been stood on their heads.
"We should have asked for wild sylphs," said Yochan. "They're not too bad either. A sight more independent minded, anyway."
"And don't complain so much. That Samel had a whinge about the lack of baths last night. Baths!"
Yochan laughed. "He was joking."
"You can never tell with city boys. And the ones left in the corps show greatest promise."
"They do. Just not trained enough, sir. Fhionnen doesn't whine."
Dekran smiled. "Doesn't speak much either. Ever get the feeling that he ended up with us because his owner wanted to see the back of him?"
Yochan shrugged. The scouting corps couldn't care less about a sylph's past; it was irrelevant because only the now mattered. "We need to find out what's happening further east, sir. For all we know, Hingast's mob has already regrouped."
"Is it still Hingast's mob? The man is dead, Yochan. Forget rumor; the man's bones hang outside Marka's gates for all to see."
"Of course, sir. But if his men believe he's alive, then he may as well be."
"If the lot in front of us turn east, then we can assume the rest have regrouped," said Dekran. "So far, they're just gadding aimlessly about the countryside."
A scout, barely recognizable as a sylph under his camouflage paint, entered the tent and interrupted their conversation. The paint scheme varied slightly sylph to sylph, but that variation only told the keen observer who had applied it, not who wore it.
But Dekran knew which sylph had messenger duty today.
"Belaika has found the men we hunt," said the newcomer.
"Thank you, Fhionnen." Dekran smiled. "What else did Belaika have to say?"
***
From his elevated vantage, Belaika stared at the army. Three thousand men were difficult to hide, but these Eldovans were surprisingly good. Since learning about sylph scouts, they had got better.
But not quite good enough.
A small smile ghosted across the sylph's face before he grew serious again. These men were only resting before moving on.
So long as he avoided silhouetting himself against the skyline, he would not be seen. Gray, green and brown paint helped camouflage him, but stillness was his best defense. Vivid black slashes crossed his chest and face, but they were more for show than concealment.
He pinged to ensure Samel still held his position before sending a more detailed report. Three thousand Eldovans, with no war machines, but certainly a lot more force at their disposal than the Markan patrol. He heard Samel acknowledge his message. Faintly, he heard it passed on. Bar perfect.
Belaika wriggled away from his place. He found better cover, from where he could keep an eye on the enemy. The Eldovans would have scouts – even if they were only humans – so he must be wary not to blunder into any. Had his sylph companions been trained to the proper standard, he would feel happier this close to the enemy. But for now, the dangerous tasks mostly fell on his shoulders.
Worse, they were alone. Dekran had brought his detachment so far west, they had lost contact with all other patrols and news of events nearer Marka. Not even the watchers – sylph scouts surrounding Marka to warn of any approaching armies – had come this far west.
Beyond any possible reinforcement, a patrol of one hundred men and five scouts could only avoid battle against three thousand, or else show how to die gallantly. Belaika was not ready to die yet, gallantly or otherwise.
He waited for a response from Dekran.
When it came, the whistle was stronger; Samel had closed the gap a little. Belaika hoped the instructions reached him correctly.
Command to Belaika. Stay with target, follow and report course changes.
Belaika scowled as he whistled. Sounds like another night in the open for me.
Choca tonight, taunted Samel.
That must be a joke. It was not funny. Remember to save mine, whistled Belaika.
Not a chance, brother.
Then, he saw sylphs in the enemy camp.
There was nothing special about them, just ordinary infertiles. Probably officers' servants, dressed in the usual garb of plain work smocks. But that had not caught Belaika's attention.
What they were doing showed how well the Eldovans had adapted.
At the first whistle, they tumbled out of their tents. Some headed for the center of the encampment and others to the sides. A soldier accompanied each sylph as she pointed into the forest. Belaika stiffened.
Difficult to tell, but he suspected they pointed to where his orders had just been whistled from. Towards Samel. Imagine lines taken from those pointing fingers and, where they crossed...
He whistled a warning and another message before abandoning his lookout point. He must find another.
***
"Donenya!"
Lance Captain Dekran turned from the morning inspection of his men as Fhionnen ran to him.
"Message?" He had never seen this sylph so animated.
Fhionnen nodded. "Belaika and Samel have changed position. The Eldovans have found a way to pinpoint them when they whistle."
Dekran's eyes widened and he drew the excited scout to one side. "How?"
"They use sylphs to show our positions. They stand in different places in the camp and point."
"Triangulation." Dekran shook his head and resisted the urge to swear. Sylphs were the one advantage he had over the Eldovans. Or used to have. "They send horsemen out to run the scouts down?"
Fhionnen nodded. "So says Belaika. He and Samel have moved."
Dekran nodded. "Thank you. Keep me informed."
"Se bata."
Dekran stared into the distance and hoped the sylphs were capable enough to avoid capture. He could not afford to lose one.
***
Sandev scrubbed the pot hard. Her hands were sore from the work and she wished her skin had the same toughness as that of the small infertiles who worked alongside her.
She had spent the entire wi
nter a prisoner, but could not contemplate escape while so far from Marka. There was no guarantee her plan to break free would actually work. The block that prevented her from using the Gift held, but she had worked out how Nicolfer had made it and felt certain she could break through when needed.
She was so far west she doubted if she could easily find her way home. Except by using the Gift. It showed her captors were confident she could not break the block.
Dervra – one of those captors – remained with the bulk of the Eldovan army, doubtless working on the next part of his plot. Nicolfer came and went, but spent a lot of her time with General Mirrin's army. Sandev wished she would stay with Dervra and leave her alone.
Mirrin held frequent conferences with his officers and sergeants, which sometimes involved Dervra and Nicolfer. Tactics and plans were rarely discussed while Sandev was present, and if not for the sylphs, she would have less idea what was being planned.
A small smile played about Sandev's mouth.
Most officers and a few sergeants had their own sylphs; there were almost two hundred in the camp. They made themselves useful and were always discreet. Which in turn meant that the blue-skinned creatures were all but invisible to the leaders, who spoke freely where long ears could eavesdrop.
Sandev did not doubt that every sylph was loyal to her owner. But there were six exceptions, ignored even more than the rest.
Deaths were inevitable in an army. Accidents, disease and enemy action all helped whittle down numbers. Immune to most human diseases and not expected to fight the enemy, there were sometimes sylph "orphans". They were usually sent out of the way, west, waiting to be sent home. As Mirrin's camp lay the furthest west, it held six of these unfortunate sylphs. When Mirrin's army came into contact with Eldovan home patrols again, these six would leave.
But for now, they were useful to Sandev.
Orphaned or not, they must still work where needed and they often served alovak during meetings, because few sylphs liked to be near Dervra or Nicolfer. Not that the orphans enjoyed the proximity, but they had no protective owners prepared to stand up on their behalf. At these meetings, their presence ignored, they heard everything.
Sandev had not remained idle while a captive. Seizing the opportunity to use these sylphs for gathering information, she looked after the six because nobody else did. The quartermaster ensured they were fed, clothed and kept clean, and made sure they were healthy and exercised, but that was all.
These six sylphs also had emotional needs, which were overlooked.
Markan Empire Page 3
