Markan Empire

by Nicholas A. Rose

  Attempts to break her block ended abruptly as Tula tumbled into the tent. This sylph always gave the impression of rush. Sandev raised a questioning eyebrow.

  "Gajaran is missing!"

  Sandev winced. "Probably worked herself into knots again over the prisoner," she said, cautiously. Belaika's capture had reopened Gajaran's wound over her lost owner. Sylphs were always... overwrought... after such catastrophes.

  Tula nodded.

  "I'll look for her," promised Sandev.

  Tula managed a smile and watched the human leave.

  Sandev sighed. She knew where to find the missing Gajaran. Of the ownerless sylphs who marched with General Mirrin, she had most time for Gajaran. She could trust all six – up to a point – but the missing sylph had something about her.

  But Belaika's appearance in the camp had shattered her already fragile composure and set her back months.

  Sandev cut across the camp, avoided Belaika's cage where Nicolfer still worked, and moved quickly as she passed the already stinking latrines. No doubt dug in some haste. Sylphs refused to share latrines with humans and, from tonight's evidence, Sandev did not blame them.

  Sylphs had their own latrine area and there she found Gajaran.

  The sylph crouched on her heels on the latrine board, chin on knees and arms wrapped around herself, a posture very similar to that Belaika used. Her earpoints twitched at Sandev's approach, but she gave no other sign of recognition.

  "Grief is easier to cope with when you share the pain with a friend."

  Gajaran raised her head, expression neutral. She didn't look as if she'd been crying but, unless Sandev missed her guess, tears lurked there somewhere. The bond between an infertile and her owner was often stronger than that between parent and child. Even if the owner abused the sylph, it was neither forgotten nor broken.

  "You know about the dursanonecul. You know what they do." The sylph's tone held a hint of accusation. For an Eldovan sylph, Gajaran pushed the line of acceptable behavior.

  "Of course, though in my defense I did not invent them." Sandev tried to sound sympathetic. "As in all things, sylphs do as they must."

  "Are they forced to become scouts and lead soldiers to kill?"

  Sandev decided to be completely honest. "No."

  "Then they truly are devils."

  "Of course not; just sylphs." Sandev spread her hands before she patted the sylph's shoulder. "If they did not help their soldiers to defend themselves, then their enemies would kill them. Wars kill and humans begin wars, not sylphs."

  Sandev waited.

  Gajaran turned her head to one side to consider. Another typical sylph reaction, Sandev realized. So unlike humans, who could and often did react hastily, perhaps never to repent.

  "They do not have to be scouts."

  Sandev inclined her head. "True. But they are slaves, with even less choice than humans. They're encouraged to become scouts and they believe they follow a just cause. Like humans, they cannot know the true nature of war until they find themselves in one. They are sylphs, not devils."

  "You think they are on the good side." Gajaran's tone said she doubted the statement. "Enya was not an evil man."

  "There is no good side in war." Sandev suspected those tears might surface at any moment and kept her tone gentle. "Your owner believed in his cause, otherwise he would never have joined the army. Nobody forced him, he felt he must do his duty."

  Gajaran's earpoints twitched. "He was not evil."

  "Not very many people are. Many fight on the wrong side or on the losing side, which is not always the same thing." Sandev did not add that Hingast enjoyed hunting sylphs for sport. "In war, people must sometimes do evil things. Delwin was at the siege of Marka. Inside the city walls, people and sylphs starved. They were hungry. They were frightened for their lives. Is that a good thing? When the Eldovans broke into the city, they killed many people, innocent people. Evil things happened, but it does not mean the people who did those things were evil." Not all of them anyway, but Sandev didn't add that part.

  Gajaran's earpoints wilted before twitching upright again.

  Sandev continued. "Now, when scouts find enemies and lead soldiers from their own side to fight and kill, it is an evil thing. But they act the way they do because it is war. It does not mean the sylphs are evil." How could she explain to this intelligent infertile that she – and her owner – served a butcher who killed for fun? There was a world of difference between Hingast and Marcus. If she wanted to win this sylph's trust, she must remain neutral, no matter how difficult.

  Gajaran considered again.

  Sandev realized there was no need for more explanation. It did not mean she had suddenly converted Gajaran to the righteousness of sylph scouts, or that she would forgive Belaika for his sins. But she definitely mulled over Sandev's words. What she decided would be passed on to the others.

  "You say that enya was wrong to have joined the army he did?"

  "I don't think he had any choice which army he joined." Sandev hoped her smile reassured. "You're from Eldova. I'm sure Delwin was raised to believe the justness of Hingast's claim to the Throne. Or at least the justness of Eldova's claim." She paused, but the sylph remained silent. "Belaika is from Calcan. He also had little choice in the army he joined and he, too, believes in the justness of his preferred claimant. Even wild sylphs have joined Marcus Vintner's army as scouts, that's how strongly they feel. It doesn't mean they're right, nor that they are on the side that will win, but neither does it mean they're evil."

  She gave the sylph another small pat on the shoulder, but did not remove her hand. "Come, you cannot skulk around here all night."

  Gajaran slipped from the latrine board and threw her arms around Sandev. The expected tears finally flowed. "I miss him," she sobbed. "I cannot forgive those who took him from me!"

  "I know." Sandev held the sylph close. "I understand."

  She put her arm fully around Gajaran's shoulders and led her back to the camp. Tula and one of the other ownerless sylphs – she found it difficult to tell in the dark, but she thought it was Rukana – watched as she returned to the camp.

  She suspected she had passed whatever test the sylphs had given her. Gajaran shivered beside her. Sandev hoped to build on her work tonight. These ownerless sylphs deserved better and she hoped she was finally winning their trust.

  Then she could move on to the next part of her plan.

  ***

  Nicolfer eventually stormed away from Belaika in something of a huff. The scout had refused to cooperate and stared into space, while his earpoints hung limp. Even then, they reacted to some threats, betraying his emotional turmoil. He thought a scarf such as Neptarik wore when gambling might be a good idea.

  Temper boiling, Nicolfer almost strangled her prisoner when she used the choke chain to pull him closer, and almost ripped his ears off when she pulled it over his head.

  Haema gave a delighted giggle at Nicolfer's temper and only just managed to restrain herself when she was glared at.

  "Guard!" snapped Nicolfer.

  "Yes?" Myrad stood by the door.

  "Ensure this sylph is given no water."

  "Yes, ma'am." Myrad gave Belaika a sympathetic glance.

  Belaika watched Nicolfer and Haema leave. He wondered why the sylph had not been punished for laughing.

  Haema was a mystery.

  "Haema-y-Jinsla," Belaika muttered to himself. "But who is Jinsla? Where is Jinsla?"

  Domestic sylphs were rarely separated from their owners this long – how had she ended up with Nicolfer?

  He shook his head as he thought of the recent interrogation. Even if he wanted to, he could not help Nicolfer.

  The whistles trapped on the paper were nothing like the real whistles. Perhaps Haema could write musical notation, but the notes Nicolfer whistled came out all sorts of strange ways. He recognized none of them. Did Haema have something wrong with her ears?

  No water.

  Belaika did not look
forward to thirst, but scouts had been forced to go without before. What sylph stuck in Marka during last year's siege could forget the terrible hunger? All sylph scouts sometimes made sacrifices regarding comfort and diet. Even so, each day's long march would be no fun when thirsty.

  Sylphs needed plenty of water. Thirst cramped muscles and confused digestion. Sylphs lasted longer without food than humans, but they suffered more quickly from thirst. And died from it sooner.

  The only certainty was that Nicolfer wanted him alive. She would get no answers from a corpse, and Mirrin no ransom.

  He wrinkled his nose at that last thought and his earpoints wilted.

  Ransom. He would never live it down.

  There were plans to make before things got to that stage. He intended to –

  He raised his head and stared beyond the bars of his cage.

  A noise from the darkness caught his attention. Torches were out and most light crystals covered over. Only the sentries and his guard should now be awake.

  Belaika could see Myrad: still awake, the guard paid no attention to the noise. Either he had not heard yet – in which case even by human standards he was deaf – or else he knew who approached.

  Belaika saw a sylph carefully picking her way toward him.

  A sylph, because of the faint glow from her eyes, and a she, because he was the only male sylph in the camp. He waited.

  It was not Choca, as he half expected, but Interrogation.

  For a few moments, Belaika and Haema stared at each other, then both sylph heads turned as one to Myrad. The guard so obviously looked another way that he may as well shout his indifference to Haema's presence. The two sylph heads turned back to regard each other.

  "She does not know I am here," said Haema, in a low voice. Whispers would carry further, Belaika knew. Haema didn't need to say who she meant.

  "Why are you here?" The scout nodded toward Myrad. He knew she could see his movement. "He might tell."

  Haema shook her head and her earpoints twitched in suppressed amusement. "They do not like her."

  Belaika waited for the answer to his question.

  "You plan escape," continued Haema.

  He must be very careful. Thanks to their earpoints, sylphs could rarely lie convincingly, but they could be trained. Or conned into believing a lie was truth. He shrugged.

  Haema did not even try to argue.

  "When you go, take me," she begged.

  "Why? You have an owner. Jinsla."

  Pain flashed in her eyes. "Jinsla was the composer I belonged to. She took me away from him. She murdered him." She looked around and Belaika detected fear. "I think she did. Must get home to make sure. You will take me, when you go? You can see me safe away from this army and I will find my way home from there."

  "You only think she murdered him?" Belaika hugged his knees.

  "She offered him money. She sent me ahead and when she followed, she still had her money."

  "Why should I trust you?"

  Haema's eyes gleamed. "You do plan escape. I thought so."

  Belaika turned his head away. "No plan," he said, neither a denial nor a lie. He did want to escape, but he had laid no plans yet, and he only intended to take Sandev with him when he went.

  Haema ignored his comment, but fumbled under her tunic to pass something through the bars. "Drink it before dawn," she said.

  She stood to leave.

  "Can you really trap our whistles on paper?" he asked.

  "You mean write musical notation." She smiled at him. She gave a whistle, pitched beyond human hearing, and a perfect imitation of Fhionnen's pinger. "Yes. Would you want me to write down your secrets properly?" Without waiting for an answer, she melted away into the darkness, moving almost as skillfully as a scout.

  Belaika opened the leather water bag, sniffed at it and tasted it. Just ordinary water. Why should he trust a sylph he had seen half a dozen times? Fair enough, she had always looked sorry for him, but that was no reason to betray everything she knew to help him escape.

  And she did know how to write music. Which meant whenever she heard a whistle, or another sylph repeated one to her, she wrote it down wrong. Why?

  He must solve the puzzle of Haema before he reached a decision.

  Interrogation was not his only visitor that night. Not long after Haema left, Insult appeared silently at the wooden slats of his cage. Belaika eyed Gajaran as warily as if she were Nicolfer, but she said nothing. She merely stared at him for perhaps two minutes.

  He returned her stare and waited.

  She opened her mouth to speak once or twice, but her earpoints wilted each time. She eventually left as silently as she had arrived.

  Hopefully, he would now be left in peace for the night.

  ***

  Belaika stirred in his cage. Though they tried not to disturb him, he sometimes woke when his guard changed. Girran and Myrad were usually silent; he heard more noise from the perimeter sentries.

  Neither perimeter sentry nor guard had made the noise. The lump of darkness remained so still that Belaika knew Girran had replaced Myrad as the guard. More than halfway through the night then. Myrad always moved about a lot more when on guard. Girran always looked to be asleep – or dead – but appearances were deceptive and the man was always more alert than the image he projected, as Belaika had already learned.

  Something else had disturbed Belaika.

  He finished off the water Haema had given him.

  A horse on the picket line snorted. Small rodents rustled in the bushes. A far-off scream of an animal caught by a predator. All normal night sounds. Nothing out of place.

  Yet Belaika was wide awake and expectant.

  Out of the darkness, from beyond the camp perimeter, a whistle came. A whistle no human could hear. Belaika's heart leapt; he almost leapt for joy. He hoped all the other sylphs were asleep.

  Hold fast, brother, it said. Help will come. Velisar.

  Belaika restrained an urge to laugh and sing. That whistle came from no part trained sylph. He had never heard that whistled sign with his own ears, but older scouts whispered the name with awe and respect. It belonged to a legend, to the one who had demonstrated his race could be scouts, and who many now believed to be dead.

  But that sylph was here, not dead. The first, oldest and wisest of all sylph scouts. He was Velisar.

  ***

  Chapter 7

  Hingast

  Lance Captain Dekran ran a hand through his dark brown hair and thought about getting it cut. He already had plenty piled on his shoulders, but reducing hair length would solve nothing. He wondered if any gray hairs were showing yet.

  His detachment lay well beyond the range of scouts who would relay any messages to Marka. The enemy commander seemed determined to keep well west. Dekran still shadowed Mirrin's army – but only just.

  He glanced at Banner Sergeant Yochan. "The scouts stay out of the hearing distance of Mirrin's sylphs when they whistle?"

  "They do." Yochan's gray-blue eyes glittered. "Nobody's in a rush to be the second captured scout."

  Dekran inwardly winced. "I hope there's no danger of losing him when they move away to whistle. Ranva knows we had enough trouble finding him first time."

  Yochan smiled. "It helps now we've added Felnar and Udan to the scouts. If nothing else, they have experience."

  "If I'd known we'd be so far west for so long, I would've insisted on fully trained scouts. No wonder Belaika was unimpressed."

  Yochan shrugged. "We might not have got five even then, sir. There aren't enough to go round. Two Vintner armies, parts of the City Guard and the Trading Council's Grand Army under one command, there's too much army for the scouts to cover. We won't be the only ones resorting to human scouts again."

  "And even more are used on the watching service, scattered everywhere, except here." Dekran hoped one was nearby; he desperately needed to report.

  "Well, we've got two experienced scouts." Yochan lowered his voice, in case of eav
esdroppers. "I don't mean to undermine your authority sir, but we could have three."

  Dekran clenched his teeth. Yochan still pushed for a rescue attempt. Without Dekran's knowledge, he had sent Felnar and Udan to see how well or otherwise Mirrin had organized his camp. He had not directly disobeyed the letter of his orders, but certainly pushed using his initiative to the limit. "Belaika is now kept in a cage," he pointed out.

  "At night," agreed Yochan. "We also know he is being interrogated in the evenings and there is only one thing they can possibly want to know from him."

  "The whistles. The advantage we hold over our enemies." Dekran restrained a sigh. Commanders did not sigh in front of more junior officers.

  "There's no alternative but to rescue him." Yochan kept his expression carefully neutral.

  Dekran knew there was an alternative, but he dare not suggest that just yet. It would earn him no thanks from Marcus Vintner, either. He faced the end of his career over a captured sylph scout. "We might lose most of our men in any rescue attempt, then what?"

  "Surprise will aid us."

  "They have sentries and Mirrin knows we're here." Dekran reflected that perhaps he should give the command to this man. He should resign his commission, or throw himself on his sword. Well, perhaps not that until after they were done with whatever happened here, and any battles that must be fought had been.

  Resignation would be shameful enough without people also thinking he had run from his duty. Cowardice was not among his faults. But how could he explain to Marcus Vintner that he had managed to lose his sylph?

  He could share nothing with his sergeant; he must carry this burden alone.

  "We should still try, sir. I recommend snatching him during the day, when he is getting exercised."

  "Hardly exercise," retorted Dekran. "Fhionnen reports that Belaika's leg is injured."

  "It can't be too badly hurt," countered Yochan. "Else, he wouldn't be able to walk at all."

  "I am also concerned about the number of garbled messages we get." Dekran wanted to talk about anything but Belaika. Marcus and Belaika were close. The only way it could be worse was if he lost Jenn to the enemy. "You have told the scouts never to improvise?"

  "I have sir." Yochan nodded. "Kadhen and Samel know it's better to ask for a repeat than to fill in gaps themselves. They're not always paying full attention so they don't hear some whistles properly."