Markan Empire

by Nicholas A. Rose

  The boy had found his way around the villa, unafraid to wander through all the rooms. So far as Grayar knew, nothing had gone missing and Tangan had made no threatening moves of any sort. So far.

  Despite his suspicion, the boy certainly acted as a normal sylph, behaving with respect. At times, Grayar even thought the sylph might be enjoying himself here. He was certainly better clothed than had been the case before.

  Tangan even acted as if Grayar truly was his owner.

  And yet.

  The boy had definitely been Nicolfer's creature. Perhaps not bonded to her – not willingly, anyway – but Grayar held no illusions. Precisely how his former colleague from the Ten had messed up this sylph, he was still to learn, but she would have done something.

  She had a reason for abandoning him to Grayar.

  Tangan claimed to have no memory of Nicolfer, even when his earpoints shouted lie to his words. Even when his mouth twisted in distaste as he spoke her name.

  In turmoil indeed.

  "You're hanging around here for a reason," said Grayar. His piercing blue eyes failed to intimidate the sylph. "Out with it. What's bothering you?"

  Tangan's earpoints twitched in contentment. "Just restless," he replied.

  "You have a question." Grayar gave the male sylph a level look and waited.

  Tangan gave him a sylph's slow blink. "Is sorcery always evil?"

  Grayar paused. This question must have gnawed at the sylph ever since he became aware what his previous owner represented. He had probably been involved in some pretty dubious schemes and doubtless wanted his guilt relieved.

  Grayar could not help the boy much with that last.

  "The power itself is neither good nor evil," he replied, eventually. "It is everywhere and in everything, unthinking and unaware. Practitioners of sorcery, at least to start with, are neither good nor evil. But the source of their power is controlled by the Malefic Sephiroth."

  Tangan blinked.

  "The Gift is granted by the Father; sorcery is sought. Because it is always sought for selfish reasons, it is inspired and controlled by the Malefic Sephiroth, and eventually corrupts its practitioners."

  "What about those who have both?" Tangan's silver-gray eyes were intense.

  Grayar nodded. "Nicolfer is indeed Gifted."

  No reaction from Tangan at the mention of her name.

  He continued. "She is one of ten granted the Gift by the Father in the earliest days of our inhabitation of this world. And yes, Nicolfer also sought more power for herself, and was granted sorcery, but not by the Father." Grayar paused. "She wanted more power for herself. Selfishness is the weakness shared by all sorcerers, and exploited to the full by their new masters. Oh sure, sometimes the initial reasons are pure – to heal a sick relative for example – but still a selfish motive to seek power."

  Tangan shrugged. "Does the Malefic Sephiroth force sorcerers to work for it?"

  "That pretty much sums it up. Sorcery corrupts the soul and all because the power was sought for selfish ends. Nobody seeks out the Gift; at least, those who try find only sorcery."

  Tangan looked like he wanted to say more, but instead bowed his head. "Thank you."

  "Should she wish, Nicolfer can still use the Gift, though I expect she prefers sorcery. Worried that you served evil?"

  "I do not know Nicolfer." The sylph's earpoints twitched wildly, whether in betrayal of his lie, or in terror of her name, Grayar did not know.

  "As you wish. The only comfort I can offer is that you no longer serve evil. How you make good whatever wrongs you may have committed is between you and your conscience."

  "I will try," he promised and blinked as he wondered if he had admitted to something he would rather not.

  Grayar gave the sylph an expressionless stare. "I'm sure you will," he said. "Yes?"

  Salu hovered in the doorway, her eyes wide.

  "There is a gwerin to see you," she breathed. "Silmarila?"

  "All right, Salu, I'll come through now." He turned back to Tangan. "Think on what I said. We will talk again, if you wish."

  Salu stared at the male sylph for a moment, before she turned and led her owner to the study.

  Grayar thought the gwerin did not know he was there, so intently did she study the gurgling clepsydra. He used the opportunity to inspect her. Much as he expected, she was smartly dressed in a gold-edged white tunic, gold collar about her neck, pointed ears rather than rounded ones, and a generally human appearance.

  She spoke without turning away from the clepsydra.

  "I have not seen a water clock for many years," she said. "Emperor Evlander had two, but I cannot find either now. It does not surprise me that one Sandev now owns one – I wonder if you do, too. Does Grayar-of-The-Ten own the other?" She straightened and turned. Dark eyes regarded him expressionlessly.

  "Grayar does not," replied Grayar, irritated by the oblique accusation of theft. "And that one of Sandev's is far older than anything Evlander owned." Her eyes were so dark, he could not see where iris ended and pupil began, but he knew they would be cat-slit.

  Silmarila smiled and inclined her head in a sort of bow. "I am Silmarila. You are Grayar?"

  "That's right."

  "His Majesty is concerned that Sandev has not been to see him recently, so may I ask how your hunt for her is progressing?"

  Grayar almost blinked. "Zenepha is aware that Sandev is not in the city?"

  "No, but I will not lie if direct questions are asked."

  "I won't ask how you found out." Grayar's gaze should have been making the gwerin sweat, but she looked fireproof. Too many gwerins had been capable of ignoring his gaze.

  Silmarila smiled again, as if aware of his thoughts.

  "We're doing all we can," continued Grayar.

  "We?"

  "Stanak and I." Grayar felt relief that she didn't know everything.

  "Of course, Sandev's bodyguard. He must be sore that he failed in his primary duty. You still do not know where she is."

  "Not precisely. Probably with Nicolfer or Dervra."

  "That makes me feel much better."

  "As a prisoner." Grayar ignored the gwerin's irony. They were all alike when it came to irony and sarcasm, perhaps they were born that way. "Knowing Sandev, she will find out all she can about what our enemy is up to."

  Silmarila shrugged. "I will do my best to reassure Zenepha. But I meant it about direct questions."

  "I believe you. After all, that is his collar around your neck."

  The gwerin shook her head. "Not his collar. I belong to Marka, not the Emperor."

  "Amounts to the same thing."

  Grayar watched as Salu escorted the gwerin out. The infertile sylph's earpoints were slanted forward when she returned.

  "What is it, Salu? Yes, be as frank as you like."

  "Enya, I do not think it is wise to speak like that to gwerins."

  Grayar snorted. "Unlike infertile sylphs, gwerins need reminders of their status from time to time. Like infertiles, they have that status for a reason."

  Salu nodded, but she still looked concerned.

  ***

  Janin-y-Sandev looked around at the small group of scouts.

  He could still hardly believe his change of fortune. A former beggar, he now belonged to the most auspicious human in Marka. And he was doing well in his training, accepted by the yenakula. In so many ways, the scouting corps was a brotherhood.

  One of the first sylph scouts, Bascon-y-Mansard now despaired of ever again being sent far into the field. His owner commanded the Imperial Guard and Bascon was rarely away from his side. He usually wore a hunted look because his wives liked to fill his spare time and their attentions were not always welcome.

  Another of the original scouts, Tynrasa-y-Fallon was probably the most experienced scout present. Despite his youth, Ean-y-Felis had finished his training and run with the army for two years.

  And Tilipha-y-Nebonda completed their small group. Another scout in training, another
accepted by the yenakula, but different. Being one of the wild sylphs, he wore no collar. He was free.

  That freedom bothered the others. Not so much Tilipha's freedom, but the debate that raged among the scouts, and even beyond them, about whether all sylphs should be free.

  "I say the idea is good," pressed Ean. "We will still work for humans and still work together as now."

  "I say no," countered Janin. "I know what freedom is. Hunger and cold, dirt and squalor. Until Sandev-ya." His mouth closed with a click; there were too many rumors about his owner and he was one of the few who knew the truth.

  As Bascon and Tynrasa exchanged a look, their earpoints twitched.

  "We have always served humans," said Tynrasa. "We belong to them, it is natural. My family has belonged to enya's family for at least twenty generations."

  Bascon touched his collar. "This is reality," he said. "Everything else is a dream. We will fly sooner."

  Tilipha smiled. "Tynrasa, your family would remain close to your owner's family, even if they were free," he said. "Just as we intend to remain close to Kestan-ya's family. But, if they ever became abusive, we would leave and start afresh. You cannot do that if you are property. And do not give me that infertile guff about an abusive owner being better than none."

  Bascon shrugged.

  "You say you are still free," said Janin, "yet it looks to me as though you have bonded yourselves to Kestan-ya."

  Tilipha shook his head.

  "Sylphs take what comes," added Tynrasa. "Until we pass over to the next life, when we continue to serve as needed. If we do not serve in this life, we will be alone in the next."

  Tilipha snorted. "No. If you are free in this life, then you are still free in the next. Better to have no owner than an abusive one. My experience of owners is thankfully short, yet brutal."

  Three pairs of sylph eyes regarded their wild cousin with shock, but Ean eventually nodded his head. "Some humans are bad owners."

  "Does Felis-ya beat you, Ean?" Janin grinned to take any insult from his words. "We have not heard you cry out."

  "Not that." Ean smiled back. "Enya is not cruel and his leash is light. But I understand Tilipha's words."

  Janin shrugged. "A human leading wild sylphs suggests that those sylphs are no longer wild. A strange arrangement."

  Tilipha's eyes narrowed. "No stranger than a sylph as Emperor," he countered. "And Zenepha is free."

  "Freed after many squeals and arguments," said Tynrasa. "And most of those came from His Majesty. I am told he still misses his collar."

  "And he is only a temporary Emperor. The Throne will pass to a human before long." Janin spread his hands as if that was the end of the discussion.

  "Zenepha has got used to freedom," countered Ean. "Some humans say they hope he never steps down. He is very good at bossing them about."

  "He does not boss them." Tynrasa shook his head. "He tells other humans to do that."

  "He tells them." Tilipha's earpoints quivered. A triumphant smile played around his mouth.

  "It is unnatural," insisted Tynrasa.

  "This debate is happening all over the city," said Janin, "but nobody has asked for manumission."

  "I think," interrupted Bascon, "that those sylphs bred into slavery will always be slaves inside." He thumped his chest. "And those born free will always be so. Few wild sylphs sold into slavery are ever happy. Except perhaps for infertiles."

  A grimace crossed Tilipha's face. "They are different," he said. "Infertiles are strange creatures."

  Janin laughed. "They drool whenever they see a collar," he said. "Do not try to deny it, Tilipha. You can pretend those pieces of twine and leather are supposed to be necklaces, but they do not fool us. You know what they seek. And it is not just your infertiles."

  "A lot of the girls agree with Tilipha," said Ean, dragging the subject back to freedom versus slavery. "Many believe his argument has much merit."

  "Then ask your owner to manumit you."

  Ean stared at Janin. "Not yet," he said, after a pause.

  "Why?" Janin had the bit between his teeth now. "Nervous of freedom? No shame in that, it frightens me!"

  "Perhaps." Ean looked at Tilipha for support.

  "Fear of the unknown is understandable." Tilipha sniffed. "Freedom is not as bad as you might think."

  "Oh? I never enjoyed my so-called freedom." Janin did not smile this time. "I do not say that you should beg for a collar Tilipha, but neither should you try to force me out of mine."

  "Better when you decide what you do that day instead of another deciding for you," insisted Tilipha.

  "We would still be told what to do. Instead of belonging to our owners, we would instead work for them. They still decide." Janin's earpoints slanted ahead, as if he had ended the argument.

  Tilipha looked at Bascon and Tynrasa. "Freedom or slavery? Your choice, not some human's."

  "I agree." Ean nodded.

  "Foolishness." Bascon gestured with a hand.

  "Why?"

  "Wild sylphs live in colonies, away from everyone else."

  "We do – usually." Tilipha nodded.

  "Yet you are not free," argued Bascon. "Human cities grow, and you cannot stop them, only move away. Humans still hunt and enslave you. Their choice, not yours. Humans pass laws in some places to protect wild sylphs and preserve their rights. Humans decide that, not you."

  Janin nodded as Tilipha shook his head.

  Bascon continued. "Humans decide, and you build prisons you dare not leave, except to scuttle to another prison. I go where I wish almost all the time and pass in peace because of my collar. That is freedom."

  "Hardly," snorted Tilipha. "The air you breathe is fresher when you make all decisions that concern yourself."

  Janin took a breath and tapped his chest. "Air fills the lungs, not the belly."

  And that seemed to be the last word. For now.

  ***

  "Shapes?"

  Captain Crallin's dark blue eyes regarded Lieutenant Patisk in disbelief.

  Patisk nodded. "Shapes. Outside the walls at night. I've done my best to quash it, but the rumor persists."

  "Keep trying. Shapes. Pah! Has anybody reliable seen them?"

  "Of course not, sir. Nothing reported from the city walls and the scouts outside the walls have seen nothing either. If they haven't seen any shapes, then they aren't there. Nothing gets past those sylph scouts." Admiration thickened his tone for a moment.

  "Where do these rumors sprout from, Patisk?" Crallin laughed. "And I wonder what sort of shapes people are supposed to see."

  "We had problems last year with rumors, sir. Perhaps our malicious spreaders are back at work."

  "Some enemies linger within the walls. We must redouble our search for them. Have the turncoats any idea who to look for?"

  Patisk grimaced. Many Eldovans had changed sides after being captured. The Emperor accepted them, but few guardsmen trusted them, though they tolerated their presence. They were yet to prove themselves and some feared they might change sides again if the opportunity presented itself.

  "Part of me fears the rumors come from them, sir."

  Crallin pursed his lips. "Sergeant Sajalan seems to have a good head on his shoulders. Bring him here; it's past time some of these Eldovans earned their keep."

  Patisk saluted. "I'll have him here within the hour, sir."

  ***

  Newly promoted Sergeant Sajalan of Marka's City Guard looked down at Meylka and ruffled her hair fondly. The infertile sylph ripped the paper off the parcel and stared at the contents.

  "For me?" Her earpoints lashed in pleasure and she smiled at her owner.

  "As promised, new clothes for you. I can afford it now." Sajalan smiled back. Seeing Meylka pleased was itself a pleasure. "Those are as new as you can get. Never worn by another, not even tried on by another."

  "Fit for a dance." Meylka held up a dress and measured herself against it. Now she knew why Sajalan had measured her in minute detail. He
r eyes shone. "Enya, I am grateful. There are clothes here for every day of the week!"

  "The least you deserve." He ruffled her hair again and tickled her earpoints. "We've faced some hard times, but the worst is behind us now. We're free from Hingast, despite the rumors. We have new, better employers."

  Meylka's attitude suddenly changed. She grew solemn again. "There is something wrong?"

  Sajalan smiled again. "My sylph sees so clearly."

  "Enya?"

  "Only rumors. We know Eldovans still surround Marka, even if at a distance, and we know what will happen if I am ever captured by them."

  Meylka nodded. She knew, and the thought filled her with terror. Not for herself, but for what would be done to her owner before he would be allowed to die. She would be forfeited property, but it was unlikely that she would be tortured or physically harmed before going to the sales block.

  Sajalan continued. "Only rumors, but there are tales of strange shapes outside the city. Fearsome shapes. Not wraiths, but something else."

  Meylka shuddered and her earpoints wilted away. "Friends of Dervra?" she whispered. She rued the day she had ever met Dervra; some of the things done to her were terrible. Not least having dogs chase her in an experiment, ruined by sylph scouts.

  Her owner nodded. "More friends of Dervra. I do not know how he gets away with it. Surely the Father should intervene? After all, this is His Ilvenworld. Either way, the rumor says shapes are outside the city walls at night." Human and sylph heads swung around as a loud thump, repeated three times, resounded on the door.

  Meylka, perhaps afraid of a shape, skulked towards the door and opened it, her earpoints wilted. She recognized Lieutenant Patisk.

  "Your owner is here? Ah! Sajalan. The Captain wants to see you."

  "Me sir?"

  "You sir, yes sir." Patisk smiled. "Now might be a good idea."

  Sajalan wondered which of the regulations he had breached and quickly decided there was quite a list. He sighed and swung his cloak around his shoulders. "You stay here, Meylka."

  Eyes wide, the sylph nodded.

  As the door closed behind the guardsmen, Patisk turned to Sajalan. "There are rumors, which we believe are false."

  "The shapes rumor?"

  "That's the one. We believe somebody's spreading it from within the city. Come and find out more from Captain Crallin."

  "I'm with you all the way, sir." Sajalan's brain whirled. At least none of his indiscretions had been rumbled. What did the Captain of the City Guard want with a lowly sergeant anyway? The rumors were nothing to do with him.