Sajalan's quarters were not far from Crallin's office, hardly surprising since Sajalan was quartered within the barracks. Minutes later, he stood before the highest-ranking officer in the City Guard.
"You sent for me, sir?" Sajalan stood stiffly before the desk.
At a nod from Crallin, Patisk pulled up two chairs, took one himself and indicated Sajalan should take the other.
"I did." Crallin pursed his lips briefly. "Have you heard the rumor?"
"About shapes? Yes sir."
"Nobody reliable has seen them. No guardsman or scout has reported anything out of the ordinary. Which means the rumor is baseless, which in turn means somebody has spread it." Crallin stared at his underlings. "This is somebody known to us, an enemy of Marka; somebody we already know likes to spread malicious rumors. Which is why we hope it is not you, or any other of the Eldovans who joined our ranks after the siege."
Sajalan relaxed. He had feared he or his comrades from Eldova might be blamed for any little thing going wrong. Obviously, this wasn't about to happen now.
"We try our best to fit in, sir. We have no wish to upset any carts."
"Just so." Crallin nodded, as if he expected nothing less. "Your task is to find whoever is spreading these rumors. Report to Lieutenant Patisk on a daily basis. He will decide what action must be taken. Don't worry, I'm mindful of His Majesty's promise that Eldovan will not be used to fight Eldovan."
Sajalan could not care less about any Eldovan except Meylka and himself, curiously enough in that order. "And if the rumors are true, sir? You never know."
Sajalan felt he pushed himself a little too far forward here, but he wanted to make sure these were just rumors.
"Then someone reliable will verify them soon." Crallin smiled again. "But somehow I doubt they will."
***
Kelanus ripped open the letter and began to read. The moment he read the salutation, he recognized his former wife's hand.
My dearest Kelanus
I have heard by the merest chance that you have cleared your name from the awful allegations that were made against you some time ago.
You must understand that such allegations are very difficult to live with and that these almost destroyed me, and your sons. Both are delighted that you succeeded to clear your name.
Kelanus, I know you feel betrayed and, indeed, I am aware I must shoulder much of the blame for that betrayal. But I recognize the error now, and I wish to make amends. Your sons again want to carry your name with pride.
My dearest Kelanus, I wish to end the animosity between us and make good the dreadful mistake I made. Is it not too late for us to try again?
I remain, my Dearest, your loving Wife
Saran.
Kelanus refolded the letter. The Father only knew how it had managed to reach him, but here it was. Saran had heard and was now willing to believe his version of events in Sandester.
He sat in silence, the missive gripped in one hand. She had not been so willing to believe at the time. Then, Kelanus was the most evil creature to walk the world. Even worse, he had sullied her good name, and that of their sons.
Their sons – his sons – had been so shocked that they renounced Kelanus and took their maternal grandfather's name as their own.
And now Saran wanted him back.
A muscle twitched in Kelanus's cheek. He had walled away his pain, but the letter came like an arrow to his heart. He should reply, but she had always ignored his letters before.
He must think about this; he needed air.
The moment he left the palace, he knew he no longer walked alone.
"I have missed seeing you."
Kelanus turned and smiled at the outlander woman. "Tahena, you know I come to see you whenever I can. Sadly, there has been much to do of late." His bass voice resonated in her chest.
Tahena pushed a finger against his lips. "That sounds suspiciously like an excuse."
Kelanus laughed, a deep rumbling sound. "The best I could think of at short notice."
"Then try harder. You must know I miss you." Tahena looked into his face and he hoped she could not see his inner turmoil. "I'm not as busy as you; there are no students and no Sandev to find small errands for me to run. Grayar is more of a loner and has little for me."
Kelanus stopped and gave his companion a solemn look. "If that bothers you, I can find you plenty of work. I'm not the only one who could do with a messenger."
"If I get too bored, I'll find tasks of my own, thank you."
Kelanus laughed and walked on. Tahena kept pace and he had no need to shorten his stride.
"Going anywhere special?"
"Just for some air," he replied. "One can spend too much time staring at a map."
"You mean you want to turn a few things over in your mind."
Kelanus laughed again. He rarely laughed so much; he was grateful that Tahena always managed to drag one out of him. Even when, as now, he didn't feel like laughing. "One or two things to straighten out."
"Sounds ominous. When a tactician as gifted as you mulls things over, I'm sure Marka must fear something dreadful."
Kelanus looked at her again and this time his pale blue eyes were expressionless. "Marka must always fear something dreadful. If it doesn't happen today, then tomorrow."
"A worrying philosophy. If we follow it, at least all our surprises will be pleasant ones."
Again, that bass rumble. "Perhaps one or two nasty surprises."
Tahena's expression sobered. "That's always the trouble, but there must always be balance. Though I'm not a great believer in fate."
"Oh?" Kelanus raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously. I very much believe in free will and the ability to affect things ourselves. Having our entire lives already mapped out, as if determined by another, is a frightening thought."
"Perhaps we do not have the free will we would like."
Tahena laughed. "And what, please tell, do you mean by that?"
"Some of the Gifted –" Kelanus dragged his voice lower, although nobody was close enough to overhear, "– can see the future. How can that even happen without at least some predestination?"
Tahena considered the statement.
Kelanus hid a small smile. Most people took everything at face value, whereas he never did. Perhaps this was why people believed him such a good tactician. Even Marcus Vintner admitted that, until Kelanus switched sides, his cousin Branad had headed for victory.
"Those who See –" Tahena emphasized the word so the capital was audible "– only look at the most likely outcome of an occurrence, or a course of action. Seeing is triggered only by particularly significant events and even then, things can change to make the entire vision irrelevant. Happens all the time."
Kelanus considered her words. "So that's why Seers speak so carefully. Riddles wrapped in riddles, just to keep us on our toes. Or perhaps we only think we understand what they say."
Tahena shook her head. "When a Seer speaks, she or he is usually very certain what is said will come to pass. And also remember that these visions are usually warnings about a thing that will happen if some other thing is not done. Even Grayar is careful about everything he Sees."
"That is almost as confusing as one of Sandev's explanations."
Tahena realized it was time to change the subject. "I'm still glad I ran into you," she said. "Where shall we go?"
Kelanus smiled. "I'm also pleased that we met. Perhaps we should go to our favorite park. I need your advice concerning a letter."
Tahena smiled. "Any advice I have is yours."
***
Hidden in shadows, Nicolfer watched the villa across the road. She could use her sorcery to make herself invisible, but using power might be detected. She did not want to give herself away.
In that villa, her enemy was about to die. She had hoped Tangan might have completed his task before now, but his sylphic nature obviously still fought against her conditioning. Proximity would override his instincts and force him
to act. Not the best way of doing it, but the only way available to her.
She watched a night watchman, lantern on the end of a long pole, pass by. He expected to see nobody this long after curfew, so he saw nobody. Fortunately, the authorities had not yet thought to use sylphs as patrolmen because they would miss nothing. Their excellent night vision would ensure that.
Once the watchman had gone, Nicolfer relaxed a little. She felt adrenaline course through her veins; her excitement always overflowed before an event.
She came out of the shadows and reached out with her mind.
No need to reach far, he was close. She felt his mind, a feeble thing compared with her own. She also sensed terror in the part of him still fully aware of what she did, against his will and better inclination.
Nicolfer smiled as she reached into the boy's mind.
Time to wake, Tangan. Time to kill.
***
The sylph Tangan started at a sudden gurgle from the clepsydra, before remembering what caused it. The villa was otherwise silent, with only a creak now and then from a timber or joist as it settled from the stresses of the day. Nothing to alarm him. Unlike the thing that now, after months of waiting, forced him to his duty.
His mission terrified him, but he must accomplish it. There was nobody else. He felt somehow trapped, as if he could not even control his body. His earpoints were still tucked away, as if he had really stayed asleep in his blanket, and though sounds came through the folded skin, they were muted.
He did not want to do this! He wanted to cry and shout, but powerlessness kept him silent. On legs he did not really want to work, he crept silently from shadow to shadow. He hoped somebody else would wake and stop him.
His silver-gray eyes glowed faintly from the reflected light. Almost all the light crystals were covered and he vaguely heard deep, relaxed breathing coming from the occupants of Sandev's villa.
Wake up properly! Still no control. Someone else maneuvered him, and he could only be a silent witness to an automaton.
He must be careful of the other sylphs. Either might decide she needed to go somewhere, or even hear him moving through the building. At least Janin was away from the villa, on a training exercise.
Part of him wanted one of them to wake.
Caya-y-Sandev and Salu-y-Grayar had sharp hearing. But they shared one of the bedrooms. Salu seemed to think Caya would be reassured by the presence of another sylph. Or perhaps Grayar encouraged it. Either way, she did not sleep in Grayar's bedchamber, an advantage for his task.
Stanak, for some strange human reason, had decided to sleep in the stable, but at least Grayar stayed inside the villa. Having the bodyguard outside made his task even easier.
Even so, the part that was him did not want to do this. He wanted to be stopped!
Turning the corner from the study, a flight of wooden stairs faced him. The second, fourth and seventh steps creaked; if he had a shred of decency, he would tread on every one.
Compelled by another, forced to obey, he kept to the shadows and glided from one step to the next. First to third, to fifth, to sixth... eighth, ninth... tenth, eleventh, twelfth... thirteenth and fourteenth.
He paused at the head of the stairs. Had a door just closed below? He strained to hear, but heard nothing more, except that water clock. To his sensitive hearing, it sounded like a fully laden cart rumbling down the street, despite his earpoints being tucked away.
He felt a muted sense of... something, but thought that might be the Gift, permeating every part of the villa. Even from here, he could sense the power that surged through Grayar like a river. If not for a greater imperative, that sense would terrify him.
Right in front of him was a linen cupboard. Thanks to the light crystals glowing behind their covers, he could just make out the door. However, thanks to the heavy drapes and external shutters, even he could see very little.
Turning from the stairs, he went up on his toes. Easier to walk silently this way. One hand gripped the stolen dagger and sweat poured out of him. He hoped someone would wake and rouse the household. He must accomplish his mission.
Why was his mind no longer his own?
The next door led to the sylph room, where he trusted both Caya and Salu were sound asleep. Next came Sandev's room, ready for her return. Then, the room Grayar had taken for his own. Was that door shut, or just pushed to?
Tangan pushed against the door. Pushed to, so he did not even have to turn the handle. Inca by inca, it moved inward. He kept the movement slow, in case it met sudden resistance. Anything could be behind the door. Neither did he want to bang it and cause a disturbance.
He should bang it. He really wanted to.
Could the other sylphs overpower him? Infertiles sometimes put themselves in danger to save their owner's life. Might Salu do that?
Once he had killed, his mind would belong to him again. He wanted his mind back, he wanted full control of himself, but he did not want to kill to achieve that.
The door stood open enough and he slipped through the space.
The room stank of the Gift and he assumed it all came from his target. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the increased gloom, listening to Grayar's deep and even breathing. The man was soundly asleep. No need for Tangan to see, for his other senses would guide him.
But he waited. The more senses he could rely on, the better. Gradually, he saw more and more.
At least Grayar was meticulously tidy. He already knew this from long chats with Salu; the small infertile was happy to boast how neat and tidy Grayar kept his small cottage. How her owner took pride in taking his share of the chores.
He found it difficult to believe how badly Grayar spoiled his slave. The man should have saved his money; slaves were those to do chores. Unless he needed companionship, of course. Many humans bought sylphs for precisely that reason – to keep them as pampered pets rather than as slaves.
He pulled his thoughts back to his task. He shifted his grip on the dagger and stared at the lump that was Grayar.
At least, the breathing sounds emanated from there. He came closer, until he was stood over the human. Grayar's breathing was deep and unconcerned. Now, he must complete his duty. Now or never.
A snarl turned his lips as Tangan lifted the dagger and carefully chose the place to plunge it in...
***
Chapter 9
Memories
Neptarik leaned on his broom and waited for Mya to fetch the dustpan. To help with familiarization and training, guide and newbie stayed together for a few weeks. Neptarik had no complaints about that; he enjoyed the company of female sylphs.
Today they swept and mopped the tiled corridors in the gateway towers. A pleasant task and not too onerous.
His first few days had passed quickly and he had plenty of new experiences to savor. He was getting to know the sylphs here, especially those with whom he shared the small male sylph dormitory. There, he had his own bed and a small lockable box for effects and spare clothes.
The key to his box hung around his neck. Surprisingly, sylphs in Castle Beren were paid. Admittedly a pittance compared with a sylph scout's pay, but at least he, and not his owner, received the wage. A thrifty sylph could save towards a free day in the city, or for extra rations. Those who saved hard could even buy extra choca.
Neptarik had always found learning new tasks pleasurable, especially when none were difficult to master. Best of all, once detailed for work, the sylphs were left alone to get on with it. So long as everything got done, they were left alone. When the job was complete, free time began. Unless a sylph happened to be foolish enough to be caught lazing around by an overseer.
The only irritant so far had been the deworming humiliation. No matter how necessary, no sylph enjoyed that attention, but one should be warned before it happened. Tricks with choca were not the best way. He wouldn't mind half as much if his real owner had ever neglected this annual chore.
Of course, he could not say so to the man who believed h
imself to be Neptarik's genuine owner.
"What are you muttering about?" asked Mya.
Unaware he had spoken aloud, Neptarik blushed. "Nothing important," he said.
She flourished the dustpan. "Shall we get done? We can rest up somewhere then."
Mya fascinated Neptarik. Coy about her past, she was clearly not from Re Taura. He knew a mainland accent when he heard one. There had been few questions so far, but he suspected Mya had as much interest in him as he had for her. He had caught her looking at him, earpoints erect and twitching, sometimes slanting forwards.
His own earpoints doubtless behaved the same way.
He hummed a quick line from 'Scrubbing the Halls' as he swept dust into the pan and Mya then emptied it into a small metal container.
"Do you always hum?" she asked, eyes shining with curiosity.
"When happy, yes," he replied. "If it bothers you, I will stop."
"No, I like it." Mya flashed a quick grin. "Only know one or two bars of each song?"
Neptarik grinned back. "Much more than that," he replied. "I will hum full songs for you another time. Or sing them if you like. Do we mop now? Better finish before the evening meal."
They mopped the floor together, Neptarik aware of his companion's eyes on him. He moved methodically and meticulously while mopping his part.
The sylphs stood aside politely whenever a human wanted to pass. Most of the soldiers were equally polite, walking along one side of the corridor deliberately left unmopped. When they finished mopping the rest of the corridor, Mya went back to finish the last strip.
They drank from a water fountain – there were several dotted about the castle, another fabulous invention of the last Mametain, as Mya loved to point out – and then sat side by side in the window alcove above the castle entrance.
"There's never been any glass in this window," Mya explained. "No idea why."
Neptarik knew the explanation was the same as if Mya had wondered why there were holes in the stone floor. They were directly above the entrance here and the openings made it easier to attack any enemy who made it across the drawbridge.
"Shall we sit in there?" he suggested, before scrambling into the gap that formed the window.
He sat facing out and swung his legs in the space above the drawbridge. He tried to work out how far up the drawbridge would come if ever raised, while Mya plumped down beside him.
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