Both groups of sylphs believed he stood with them.
But he did not. The simple truth was that he stood completely, utterly alone.
Despite what people believed, despite what they wanted, it had begun to unravel last year.
His staunchest supporter, Marshal Mikhan, had advised him to guard against Re Taura. Marcus's General had advised him to concentrate on the Eldovans. Zenepha had taken Mikhan's advice which, even if not precisely wrong, had failed to best serve Marka's interests, and for the reasons Kelanus had so eloquently pointed out.
Everybody now knew that Re Taura really had planned to invade, but Zenepha understood that island country could never occupy a continent, could never force its way to a landlocked city, take it and, most importantly, hold it.
Those responsible for siting Marka had chosen their ground well.
Until the winter, he had hoped that the senior people from Sandester, from Branad Vintner's lands, actively supported him because they believed his rule to be for the best. They had ultimately shown themselves self-serving. Recalled to Sandester, all bar Branad's son Verdin, who had proved himself very loyal.
Trouble would come from that province, even if Zenepha had been assured nothing would happen while he held the throne.
That left Marcus Vintner in Marka. Despite his name, Marcus was barely related to the Sandesteran Vintners, a cousin so many times removed that nobody could say they were even the same family.
Marcus had proved loyal, up to a point, but his hunger for the throne had not lessened one whit. His wife Zandra had most of the guilds in her apron and Zenepha knew husband and wife continued to campaign for their accession. He had used the Sandester Vintners as a counterweight, but now they had left for home, he stood alone against determined opponents. He realized that the Calcan Vintners waited for him to slip, with no intention of catching him when it happened.
And they were right.
Sold to Marka's citizens as a successful foray instead of a lucky break, the Re Taura business had proved a serious blunder. The Calcan Vintners had carried the day there.
Marcus Vintner's people (though not the man himself, who had cannily refused to commit one way or the other) had warned Zenepha that the Eldovans were the biggest threat. Marcus Vintner's people who had defeated and put the Eldovans to flight. And Marcus Vintner's people who had now gone to Eldova to finish the job.
The people might still look to Zenepha because he was the Emperor, but High Councilors and Senators alike realized Marcus Vintner and his contacts decided almost everything now.
Zenepha gave a sylph's slow blink as he stared out of the window.
Only a question of time before Marcus replaced him. Except that Marcus Vintner remained unpopular with the Senate. Strange to think that Senators, who had ridiculed the notion of a sylph Emperor, were now his only counter against Marcus.
"Good morning, Majesty."
Zenepha turned on his heel and only just managed to stop himself from inclining his head. The creature stood before him was far older and infinitely wiser than he could ever hope for.
"Good morning, Samrita," he replied.
Most people and a few sylphs thought Samrita a human at first glance, until they saw her earpoints and the cat-slit pupils of her hazel eyes. Both things showed a sylph connection, though there similarities ended. Zenepha would never understand how sylphs could produce gwerins, throwbacks to some human inheritance everybody had forgotten about.
Or did not want to think about.
Gwerins were also highly intelligent and valued as advisors. He had two.
The second of those gwerins slipped shyly into the room behind Samrita.
Silmarila was not shy, but she deferred instinctively to Samrita, something to do with the older gwerin being more experienced. Samrita had served Emperor Kylist, great-great-grandfather to Emperor Rono. And Rono was centuries dead, buried in the ashes of the second Markan Empire.
Both gwerins curtsied together. It would be the only one he received from them today. He might get called "Majesty" a few times more though. For some reason, the gwerins didn't see him as a sylph, either.
"Nata should be here soon with sweetbread and fresh water," he promised.
Samrita laughed. "We will have plenty to eat, I also sent Nynra to bring the same."
Zenepha smiled. "Let us sit," he suggested.
Their conversation stayed light. Weather, crops, the timber harvest. Small talk, while waiting for their refreshments.
Nata, perhaps thanks to greater experience, arrived first. She set her tray on the table between the three of them, and curtsied.
"Thank you, Nata." Zenepha smiled.
The small infertile's earpoints twitched, she mumbled something barely audible, and fled. Zenepha sighed.
"We were friends once," he said. "On my free day, I always brought her some bread. After becoming Emperor, I offered her work here."
The gwerins exchanged a look. "An act of kindness," said Silmarila, who already knew Nata's history.
"I applaud," added Samrita. She cocked her head and all three heard the sound of ankle bells, growing stronger. "Ah! Nynra."
A moment later, the door opened again. Even now, months after her arrival in Marka with the shadow riders, Nynra's looks still gave Zenepha pause.
The infertile came from the far north, where sylphs had adapted and changed. Skin so pale it was almost colorless, with only a hint of blue. Eyes and hair were almost white, rather than silver, giving her a somewhat startling appearance to the uninitiated. Many in the palace believed Nynra to be some sort of phantom. The other sylphs – and not just infertiles – regarded her with awe, and even humans showed her more respect than they might to other sylphs.
More importantly, Nynra wore no collar. Both Silmarila and Samrita wore collars, made from red gold and encrusted with precious stones. Nynra had adopted the Markan custom of ankle bells for domestic sylphs, but refused to wear a collar. She hailed from Kelthane, where even infertile sylphs were free.
Yet she served. Both Nynra and Samrita feared that the free could not serve a slave, but nobody had ever questioned their arrangement. Zenepha happily left things as they were; at least one other civilized sylph in Marka did not wear a collar.
Unlike other servants, Nynra showed little obeisance, and Samrita made no move to dismiss her. Now refreshments were served, the gwerins came straight to business.
"Mansard's elevation to Marshal has met with surprising approval," said Silmarila, her dark brown eyes calm. "With him being Marcus's man, I feared the Senate might not approve."
"Captain Crallin turned it down," said Zenepha. "And Lance General Kestan has had to take command in the field since Kelanus went west. That narrowed the list of candidates."
"Just so," said Samrita. "And a reward for Mansard after being pushed aside by the shadow riders."
Zenepha grimaced. Until the previous autumn, Mansard had commanded the Emperor's personal Guard. The shadow riders' return had rendered that personal Guard redundant, and Fared had long since replaced Mansard.
"With all the Sandesterans returned home, we have little choice," he remarked.
"Very true," agreed Samrita. "Trouble lies ahead from Sandester, I fear."
"Indeed." This was the crux of Zenepha's dilemma. He could renounce the throne in Marcus Vintner's favor, but that might spark rebellion in Sandester.
"They might settle for independence," added Silmarila, who had taken time to study Sandester and knew a lot more than Samrita about this subject. "Bringing them back under the eagle will be Marcus's problem."
"But not a good start to his reign," pointed out Samrita, a little testily. "He ascends the throne and is immediately faced with revolt."
"If he has any sense, he'll leave them to it," countered Silmarila. The gwerin had enjoyed several long talks with Kelanus about military tactics and strategy, and absorbed her lessons eagerly. She wanted no repeats of past mistakes. "Whatever Nazvasta decides to do, the rightful heir
is loyal to the throne. Verdin is the key to pacifying Sandester. And that will – would – be my advice to Marcus should he ascend the throne."
"The boy." Samrita sounded unsure of Verdin. "Young. Eager. Dangerous."
"All young men are dangerous," retorted Silmarila. "This is why we guide them."
"If they listen."
Silmarila fell silent. She knew the truth of that too well. Despite the passage of centuries, she could not forget the pain.
"Verdin could plunge Sandester into civil war," continued Samrita. "His father renounced the claim and Verdin respects that decision. Nazvasta argues on a technicality that his brother's renunciation does not include him. He is not a descendant."
Silmarila sniffed. "A younger sibling," she said. "An interesting point in law."
"We have no law to cover this eventuality." Samrita's voice was gentle.
Zenepha marveled. Humans would probably come to strong words and shouting matches while disagreeing, but these two gwerins barely raised their voices.
"Other than the law of inheritance." Silmarila smiled.
Zenepha nodded. "But it does not specifically state that younger siblings are descendants," he said. "Only that they can inherit."
Nynra stared at him with her white eyes.
Samrita laughed. "I forget that your former owner made you read those books."
Silmarila's smile was at best polite. "Just so. But how can a younger sibling inherit a renounced claim?"
"A very fine point in law," said Samrita.
"But a valid one."
Samrita grimaced. "For it to be valid, we need a judgment first. Trouble is, I doubt if Nazvasta would recognize any ruling from Marka not in his favor."
"Assuming that such a ruling was not," added Zenepha. "A very high risk strategy to seek one out."
Nynra spoke up. "But why bother? Your Majesty may reign for many years yet."
Everybody stared at the infertile. Even Zenepha had almost forgotten she considered herself free, perfectly at liberty to join in conversations.
The male sylph forced a smile. "Yes," he replied, vaguely, "I may." He tried to avoid the gwerins' combined gaze.
"We certainly hope so," said Silmarila, after a long pause. "But you must remember that our duty is to advise the Emperor, whoever that might be."
Zenepha gave her a sylph's slow blink. He hoped he heard no threat in those words.
***
"Alovak?"
Zandra lifted the alovak can and smiled at the two ladies in her sitting room. One of the palace sylphs had brought the alovak in a few minutes earlier, but her offer to pour had been politely declined and the servant dismissed from the room.
Zandra very much wanted to keep today's conversation private.
Hulen Shayler, head of the Mercers' Guild nodded immediately and her companion, Tamsin Mochna, senior wife to Supreme Councilor Olista, gave a verbal reply.
"No Jenn?" asked Hulen.
Zandra finished pouring and smiled. "She's with Marcus. Whenever he's free, she's never far from his side. Quite touching, really."
"A good, loyal sylph," added Tamsin, her graying brunette hair swaying as she nodded in approval.
"Sometimes too loyal," added Zandra.
Her companions laughed and Zandra laughed with them. Of all her network in Marka, she trusted these two most. Olista, and hence Tamsin, wanted to see Marcus on Marka's throne and had worked to that end from the beginning. Hulen had ambitions, lusting after the President's chair of all the guilds and correctly believed that Zandra offered the best route towards realizing that goal.
"Had I known, I might have brought Ylena," said Tamsin. "She's grown used to being a personal sylph now."
"I'm sure your sylph is enjoying her free time at your villa." Zandra smiled. "Besides, much safer for our discussions to remain beyond the reach of long ears. To some, our words are treason and we never know who reports to whom."
"True." Tamsin nodded. "But Ylena has been with us for many years."
"As a general domestic slave," said Hulen. "With respect, but she is getting a little old for such a large change in role."
Tamsin grunted. "Both Olista and myself are getting a little old for buying new sylphs. Any such unfortunates will still have many years of life ahead of them when we are dead. I rest that is a greater unfairness than the temporary strain of learning a new role. Sylphs, especially infertiles, find changes in ownership distressing."
Hulen shrugged.
"I trust Emperor Zenepha won't be too stressed when his job changes," said Zandra. "He has been very quiet of late."
Hulen and Tamsin nodded together.
"He felt last year's events showed an error of judgment," said Hulen.
"He fears the people are losing respect, that soon they will grow restless and demand a proper Emperor," said Tamsin.
"But who?" asked Zandra.
"Well, he had the sense to replace the Sandesterans with your husband's people," pointed out Tamsin, "so he must favor Marcus over any other claimant. And if he abdicates, he can choose his successor."
"The word is that he cannot have children," said Hulen. "No future claimant from his seed. I also believe he will choose Marcus to succeed him. And I do not say this because of your hospitality."
"I respect your candor," replied Zandra, "and am gratified you both think this way. Has Olista ever mentioned a potential abdication?"
Tamsin pulled air in over her teeth. "We had hoped that Zenepha would prove rather more malleable once the Sandesterans left the city, but the boy's found his feet now and is more than comfortable with power. He certainly has no need for any hand-holding from us." She grimaced. "Even though I doubt he's forgiven Olista for his manumission."
"Strange creature," smiled Hulen. "He has helped fuel the debate among the sylphs."
"Some debate," said Tamsin.
"I agree," said Zandra. "I suspect that the wild sylphs are only begging the city sylphs to reject their collars because so many of their own wonder about taking one."
"Surely not," murmured Tamsin.
"How many city sylphs have asked for manumission?" asked Zandra, quietly. "A few of the scouts have discussed it, but even the most vociferous has not dared take the actual step. I fear Zenepha very much remains an exception."
"And he did not ask for his manumission," said Hulen.
Tamsin nodded.
"On the other hand, lots of the wild sylphs, and not just their infertiles, appear confused on the subject," continued Zandra. "Some scouts have won hearts among the Free Tribe. Sandev couldn't hide her surprise when one begged for a collar, which she refused to grant."
Hulen nodded. "A wild sylph girl has gone for her scout?"
"Janin." Zandra smiled. "Sandev has given her blessing to a union, but she won't enslave a wild sylph."
"Janin used to be a beggar." Tamsin's blue-green eyes sparkled. "Perhaps he will ask for manumission."
Zandra barked a quick laugh. "Or perhaps he's already had enough of freedom. Among the scouts, he's one of the loudest voices urging sylphs to keep their collars. Two generations, possibly three, and the so-called 'Free' Tribe will be nicely civilized and wondering why they ever made a fuss about collars. Choosing Kestan as leader was but a first step along the road of domestication."
"We shall see." Tamsin laughed. "Speaking for myself, I remain unconvinced. Sylphs are never easy to predict. But let us speak of Sandev. She has remained ominously silent on the subject of Emperors since her return home."
"She's become something of a sylph collector," remarked Hulen. "Hasn't she brought some Eldovan infertile home with her?"
"There are certainly a few sylphs at her villa now," said Tamsin.
Zandra said nothing. However many sylphs Sandev collected was none of her business; she wanted to be certain Sandev would not stand in her way when the time came to put Marcus on the throne.
"I'm concerned what the gwerins are teaching Salafisa," she said.
Tamsin and
Hulen stared at her for a long moment. Clearly they had forgotten one of Marcus's sylphs had birthed a gwerin. People already mistakenly assumed the youngster belonged to the throne.
Tamsin recovered first. "They will teach her loyalty to the throne. It is a gwerin's task to advise whoever sits on that throne."
"Will they advise Zenepha to abdicate?" asked Zandra.
"Not immediately," replied Tamsin. "But neither will they stand in his way if he decides to take that route. After all, Marcus is hardly a monster and he does at least have a legitimate claim to the throne. Unlike Zenepha."
Zandra leaned forward. "Then we must make plans to encourage the sylph to step down," she said. A smile blossomed. "More alovak?"
***
Kaira slipped through the crowds, wearing a small though happy smile.
Now the late spring wind had finally dropped, the sun warmed Marka. Thankfully, the heat had not yet grown too uncomfortable, when haze danced in the streets and people avoided outdoors at noontime. Blue skies, calm weather and increasing warmth all helped buoy Kaira's mood. Life treated her well.
Governess to the Vintner's children for the past five years, she had long since resigned herself to living in Marka, rather than Calcan. But she had known the Vintners were headed to Marka before she took the job.
A job she loved.
Born to a middling-successful trader twenty-four years earlier, the youngest of seven daughters and five sons, she learned early to compete for attention. Older siblings had previously owned her clothes while growing up, but she was otherwise treated no differently.
Raised to respect certain standards and educated to the best of her ability, her parents were overjoyed when she won her place with the Vintners. Alone of all her siblings, she would choose her own husband, rather than having a continuous parade of eligible partners suggested by her mother.
And, since arriving in Marka, she had found someone.
Also twenty-four, Basren worked in the main library. Unlike the library in Calcan, the mostly old men who looked after the books and records in Marka guarded their charges like overprotective bears. Books could be read, but not removed. With few exceptions.
Not that many people used the library. Kaira had been researching lessons for the Vintner children the day Silmarila came to reclaim her books. As far as the librarians were concerned, those books now belonged in the reading room and raised voices echoed around the huge vaulted chamber of the main room.
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