Morran Fynn was right: Re Taura had built up a large army and the question was when, not if, the Mametain of Re Taura decided to act. But against whom?
***
Tektu paced restlessly around her small chamber, eyes vacant and earpoints quivering. A hunter of patterns, she worried that she saw nothing now.
Trenvera had sent spy after spy to infiltrate the castle and now there were none. She knew Trenvera wouldn't just stop sending spies, only change tactics. Everybody who had started at Castle Beren since Talnan's exposure and death had proven loyal, if not always effective.
Tektu had no interest in the efficiency of those working at Castle Beren, or even in the spies who came to Taura. Re Taura's enemies already knew about the army; young men were drawn to Re Taura from overseas, hoping to make a fortune fighting for a good paymaster. Word would spread. They intended that, but all plans for the army's use were held in the castle. Unless someone infiltrated Castle Beren, Re Taura's enemies could learn nothing.
Might Trenvera send troublemakers to foment rebellion?
Through many diversions, the people of Re Taura were as happy as humans could possibly be kept, so that plan would get Trenvera nowhere. Keeping the people happy was one reason Nijen was unenthusiastic about eliminating his predecessor and family. If the people were content, there could be no trouble.
"Wrong," she muttered. "There is always someone who is dissatisfied."
Once Nijen had taken power, Tektu had begun to hunt for the old Mametain and his family, until her owner forbade her from pursuing it. Obedient to her enforced vows, Tektu stopped her hunt. Instead, she passed the task to a bounty hunter, commanding him to keep his discoveries to himself and keep watching. Until needed, he must keep silence.
She always obeyed her owner's orders. If in her own way.
She shook her head. "We could have them today."
Nijen believed the people would revolt if he took the lives of the old Mametain and his family; Tektu said she would see to it if squeamishness bothered him.
He replied that he would not oversee the murder of women and children.
She would never understand why people balked when the disposal of women and children became necessary. Human females were no less dangerous than human males and today's children were tomorrow's avengers.
Tektu preferred to tie off loose ends permanently.
The number of sylphs asking to leave the Mametain's service troubled her. Rumors might spread why. Most transferred to duties outside the castle, but others asked to be released altogether and eked pathetic existences as beggars.
She had never learned why so many left, since sylphs here were not badly treated. If anything, her master genuinely liked and respected them. At least those who left preferred not to talk about their experiences. They started no silly stories.
Tektu stared at her comfortable cot, which stood three feet above the floor, to keep the drafts off. The well padded mattress had clean sheets and plenty of blankets that, even in spring, were needed at night. A useful chamber pot was underneath, rarely used but convenient if one wanted to avoid long walks to the privies at night.
Her clothes were no different from any other sylph, except for the brown fox sigil and that she wore no collar. She had no need to show off her ownership; indeed, she would infinitely prefer not to be owned at all, but be free to...
That line of thinking would get her nowhere. She should be used to her status by now. She glanced around her small chamber. Time to go for a short walk, that always helped her think.
But why had Trenvera stopped sending spies?
***
Verdin Vintner enjoyed his meal in The Green Knight. Tender beef and green vegetables cooked so they crunched in his mouth. All washed down with an ale that boasted a distinctive flavor he had never tasted before.
While he ate, he felt someone watching.
Not the innkeeper, who cleaned and moved things around his casks. Nor the serving sylphs, who certainly kept an eye on the customers, in case anyone wanted more ale. But they watched him no more than any other.
It wasn't the other customers either. Sure, as a stranger he had earned glances, but no more than that. All were much older than he, few with hair its original color. Or even any hair left. Maybe they had few teeth left; perhaps they could manage one set between them...
He pulled away from the rather foolish thought. None of these people watched him; the watcher could not be seen. Verdin caught the eye of one the sylphs.
"More of that ale, please," he called.
"The heather ale, Spruce," cautioned the innkeeper.
Spruce, who had almost gone to the wrong cask, filled a fresh tankard and brought it across.
"Thank you." The sylph scampered away again.
Verdin took the opportunity to try and spot the watcher. Still nothing. He had a suspicion that, if he did anything to frighten or anger the watcher, he was unlikely to leave the inn alive.
Tapping against the windows caught his attention and he grimaced at the raindrops running down the glass. Hopefully, that would pass before he left.
An older man entered the inn and shook raindrops from his cloak. The innkeeper straightened and nodded, serving the man personally. The newcomer swept a look around, then left the main room by a small door.
More men trickled in, all dusting rain from cloaks and hats. Some stayed in the main room; lean, hard-looking men who tried to look inconspicuous. Others left through the small door. Verdin began to take an interest. The men left behind had the look of bodyguards.
And bodyguards looked after rich or important men.
There must be a back room; people didn't walk in just to leave immediately. Verdin's heart thumped in excited expectation. This many wealthy men suggested a gathering. A gathering held out of sight suggested privacy. And privacy suggested conspiracy.
If Verdin asked about them, he knew that the sylphs and innkeeper would deny their existence.
Next to enter was the same man who had spoken to Verdin the previous day. He stamped his feet to catch his attention. He accepted his ale, looked straight at Verdin and smiled.
"You may as well come up," he said. "Oh, Mirten will want paying first."
Verdin paid his bill and followed the other man through the small door. He climbed a flight of wooden stairs that creaked under their weight.
The stairs led to a brilliantly lit room, light crystals placed carefully so no shadows could be cast towards the window. Verdin had seen eleven men enter – he and his companion made thirteen – but there a fourteenth man waited in the room. Verdin suspected he owned the watching eyes.
Everybody in the room shot Verdin suspicious looks.
"Relax gentlemen," said Verdin's contact. "Our guest has more to fear from us than we do from him."
If the men relaxed, Verdin saw no sign. Comfortable chairs were dotted around the room, but nobody sat. All gazes were fixed on the interloper.
Verdin ignored them and turned to his contact. "I feared a trap, but you clearly want to remain hidden. From the Mametain?"
The men laughed.
Verdin's contact smiled. "We have nothing to fear from the Mametain. They work for him."
"So this is a trap?"
Another laugh. "Come and sit, young man. We are not here to trap you."
"Sit," said one of the men.
Verdin sat and the other men followed his lead. He noted several chairs were left empty.
Another man fidgeted with an empty pipe. "I understand the sylph in Marka has proved himself an excellent Emperor," he said.
"I am not –"
"Do not insult our intelligence," said his contact. "You are Verdin Branad Vintner, son of the late Branad Ulvic Vintner, claimant to the Throne of Marka. You hold the honorary rank of Lieutenant and you were sent here by Emperor Zenepha."
Verdin held his tongue. The man's intelligence wasn't quite as good as he thought – Marcus Vintner's spymaster had sent them here, not Zenepha – but how did
he know any of it?
The older man smiled at what he thought was Verdin's confusion. "Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Steppan da Kanpura and until six years ago, I was the Mametain of Re Taura."
***
Chapter 5
Shadow Riders
Captain Fared Granton held the ancient spyglass to an eye and surveyed the village below, a gentle breeze ruffling his black cloak and light brown hair. The rest of the Shadow Riders stayed in the forest, with the families and camp followers. Fared had done his best to ensure only single men marched to Marka, but this was not possible for everybody, including himself. Although scouts would be nearby, only Samrita had ridden out with him.
The journey east had not been easy. Too many villages were full of people terrified of armed riders. Fared always paid for whatever his small army needed. Village mayors or headmen stared in surprise when he did and looked like they wondered when the slaughter would begin. He feared most soldiers who passed through simply helped themselves, and not just to food. The Empire had fallen into moral as well as political decay.
Some Riders recommended summary execution for those caught pillaging villages and perhaps a hand lopped off for lesser cohorts. Samrita pointed out that revenge would be taken against the villagers once the Shadow Riders were gone. Not to mention earning the enmity of every faction and petty lord along the entire route. Not what anybody wanted, given how far they must travel and how small their army was in comparison.
Fared swung the spyglass this way and that.
"How is Nynra?" he asked, to make conversation.
"Holding up well so far," replied Samrita.
Nynra was the small pallid infertile who attended the gwerin's needs. A servant rather than a slave – Kelthane did not practice slavery – she had always served Samrita. The Shadow Riders and their families had no sylphs with them. As sylphs were gregarious and enjoyed the company of their own kind, Fared worried Nynra would be lonely. Samrita did not quite count – and the humans not at all – as company.
"What do you see?" asked Samrita.
"A wooden palisade, but if those are trained soldiers down there, you can take the command from here on. Nynra can." His upper lip curled in contempt. "So much of the world is not how it should be."
"The palisade probably deters raiders." Samrita's upper lip curled in disapproval. "Who are probably no better trained than the villagers."
"All these petty aristocrats, seeking to carve empires for themselves." Fared looked and sounded outraged. "All with ideas above their station."
"People act for what they believe is for the best, or to survive." Samrita's earpoints twitched back and forth. "We will trade here?"
"Trade?" Fared snorted derisively. "Buy. Or beg. We need take nobody except you and me. And Nynra to act as your maid."
"Not much acting needed there." Samrita smiled. "I hope this time that their meat is good."
Fared grunted and hid a smile. The last village tried to cheat them, a mistake he doubted they would dare repeat next time a small army called. Angry soldiers knew how to vent frustration better than anybody. Even so, the villagers had escaped lightly. There were no killings and no injury worse than a broken bone.
From what he had seen since leaving Kelthane, few others would act with such restraint.
"We'd better get ready," he said.
***
Fared did not think much of the village's defenses as he approached the palisade. The wooden wall aside, the villagers had dug a ditch and filled it with sharpened stakes. A wooden bridge, intended to be pulled away if the village was attacked, crossed the ditch. But any experienced soldier would immediately see the flaws.
The chains that led from the bridge were half buried and no horses were in sight to pull it away from the ditch. The stakes in that ditch were too close together, so a few dead horses thrown in would make a bridge, and there was no sign of oil to be set alight if enemies attacked. These villagers had grown overconfident as their ditch and wall would not save them from a determined enemy.
Samrita wore a cap to hide her earpoints, so she could pass as human at first glance. She rode carefully across the bridge, perhaps fearing it might collapse under the horse's weight. Fared waited until the gwerin had crossed before following. He had wanted to ride in first, but Samrita insisted this would look wrong to the villagers and – reluctantly – he eventually agreed.
They'd had this discussion at every village.
Fared felt unhappy about Nynra sitting immediately behind the gwerin, but the sylph would slow them if she walked, and they might need to retreat hastily. As at every village before, the sylph showed no inclination to ride and needed persuading to get her up behind Samrita. Typical sylph, frightened of large animals. Nobody would think twice about a sylph not having her own animal to ride. Even so, it would look wrong to have her sitting behind Fared.
The moment they were across the small bridge, Nynra slipped to the ground and held one of Samrita's stirrups. They halted at the gate, which was shut. Fared sensed, rather than saw, hidden watchers.
A rough voice called out from behind the gate. "Welcome to Woodend, strangers. What is your business here?"
Samrita had proved herself a skilled negotiator, so she answered. "We are here to trade by barter or purchase."
"What are you after?"
"Contact with your merchants, or local ruler, whoever is nearest to negotiate with."
A short silence, then one of the wooden gates swung open to admit them. Their challenger stood in the space, though Fared doubted he had any intention to bar their progress alone.
He introduced himself. "My name is Shiorj. I am mayor here. We have no merchants, nor a local lord. Only villagers and farmers. And out there..." He gestured helplessly.
Bandits, thought Fared.
Shiorj stared at Nynra. "A mist child," he said, a touch of awe in his voice.
Fared grimaced. Nynra's pallid coloring had attracted attention before. Sylphs like Nynra were common in Kelthane, hair and eyes almost white, and skin so pale that only a hint of blue showed. Nynra came from the far north, where the sun left the sky for part of the year and only shone weakly whenever it appeared. Sylphs living in those icy lands had... adapted.
"My servant is not for sale or trade, Mayor," said Samrita.
Nynra gave the human a contemptuous look. She had been demanded as the price before. Her expression said it all: people here were barbarians if they thought she was a chattel that might be bartered for.
Shiorj pulled himself together. "Of course not. Come on inside." He swung the gate wider for them to enter Woodend. He caught the bridle of Samrita's horse as she passed through. There wasn't much to the village: perhaps thirty thatched, mudbrick dwellings and a couple of log-built common houses. Shiorj led them to an open-sided log hut, sheltered from the elements on three sides.
Samrita and Fared dismounted, and boys came to take the horses.
"I am Samrita."
Shiorj looked curiously into the gwerin's eyes as he shook hands. Her cat-slit pupils stood out against the hazel irises.
The mayor drew breath sharply. "You're not human! You're –"
"A gwerin." Samrita smiled. "Apologies if my appearance startles you."
"Mist child and gwerin." He looked from Nynra to Samrita, before turning to the Shadow Rider. "What surprises do you hide?"
"Knowing one end of this sword from the other," Fared growled, one hand already resting on the hilt and his gray-blue eyes cold.
Samrita smiled and laid a hand on Fared's arm.
Sylphs – with more usual silver-gray hair and eyes, and a deeper hue of blue to their skin – paused to stare at the strangers. They eyed Samrita with respect, and Nynra as if she might be dangerous.
"Forgive the sylphs their ignorance, mist child," said Shiorj, "it is rare to see any like you this far south."
Nynra looked at her distant cousins with some pity and then ignored them.
Shiorj gestured to Fa
red. "Your man may remain armed, but I trust he won't be used as a threat in your negotiations?"
Fared did not react to this insult.
"His sword remains sheathed unless he feels danger." Samrita smiled. "He is quite tame otherwise, I assure you."
Fared's bared teeth gave lie to her words.
Shiorj indicated seats and took one himself. A glance warned Nynra that the invitation was not extended to her. The sylph gave a small sigh and sat on her heels beside Samrita.
A scruffy-looking sylph eventually served alovak. Samrita noted that the sylphs here were also uncollared. Perhaps being sylphs, as in many other places, was sufficient to display their status.
Samrita knew Nynra would get a shock further east and wondered how she might react when she reached Marka.
The gwerin closed her eyes and breathed in the alovak's aroma. Fared did not even look at his earthenware cup. His attention fixed on Shiorj.
"I've never dealt with a gwerin trader before," remarked the mayor.
Samrita opened her eyes and spread her hands. "We all do what we must to survive in turbulent times," she replied.
"Even so, I expect you ought to be advising some powerful lord or ruler, but instead you wander the countryside, trading. Whatever. Strange times we live in."
"Dangerous times to judge from the stockade," added Fared, calmly.
Shiorj nodded. "We had trouble a couple of years ago. We generally make do for ourselves – there is no local lord and the Prefect is many milas away."
"Troubling times indeed with no Emperor." Samrita sipped her alovak.
"But there is an Emperor. Have you not heard?"
"No." Samrita and Fared looked at each other.
Shiorj's eyes widened and he snorted. "Have you not left the far north for the past year? Where do you trade? Everybody knows there is an Emperor in Marka. Or so I thought."
Samrita inclined her head sideways. "Do you know who took the Throne? And from which faction?"
Fared leaned forward in interest.
Shiorj shrugged his shoulders at the questions. "He's from none of the factions as far as we know. His name is Zenepha."
"Unusual. That name sounds –"
"Sylph." Shiorj nodded. "That's because he is one."
Nynra looked up at Samrita, who simply stared.
Fared barked a laugh. "Rumor," he snorted. "A sylph ruling humans? Ridiculous!"
"Ridiculous or no, the Throne is occupied. Some prefectures have recognized him, others haven't. Prefect Tomo is still to make his mind up. I've heard a messenger from the Emperor has arrived in Hakon, but that is only rumor."