"Some of you ask why only two claimants have been summoned. Is it not enough that the political masters of Marka have seen how the various claimants behave and drawn conclusions? One of you demanded to know why Enthan was not called here, another why not Hingast.
"Do you really wish to be ruled by the Imperial Republic? Yes, Enthan is a Vintner, but he comes from an ancient branch of the family, even less closely related to me than Cousin Branad here. And the Imperial Republic operates in a totally alien way compared with Marka. You want Hingast's rule? Have you forgotten what he did to the Prefecture of Sabla? You want him here?" Marcus snorted. "You question why it is I and not my father who claims the Throne, yet some of you would welcome a man who would destroy this city on a whim. If you want me to send for my father, I will do so gladly and he will either again stake his claim or renounce it. But in Siranva's name, stop squabbling among yourselves!"
Everybody, Senator and Councilor, stared at the younger Vintner in surprise.
Marcus snorted again. "Do you think we are just warriors? That we are blind? We have seen what you have tried to do with Marka and, in many ways, we salute your efforts. But never think that we were or are ignorant. I am happy to submit to the political will, which is, or is supposed to be, the people's will of this great and glorious city. Do you think Hingast will allow you the same privilege? He is on the move, coming this way. Our army can help protect you from Hingast. But time's running out. And it is time, gentlefolk, to decide. Wait for Hingast to arrive and force you to a rushed decision, which will likely be unsatisfactory as all hasty actions are, or make your minds up now. Calmly, reasonably."
"Instead of Hingast, it is you who forces us to a hasty decision."
Heads twisted, but Olista could not see the guilty Senator.
Marcus smiled. "I force you to nothing. Decide against us, and we ride away. Decide against Hingast and he will destroy this city. Think carefully and choose wisely."
Olista tapped his fingernails against the arms of his chair. "Now, can we please return to the debate regarding which of these claimants the Senate will recommend to the Supreme Council?"
As the debate raged again, the Senate split into four factions. Just over one-third supported Branad Vintner and another third supported Marcus Vintner. However, the latter faction was split between those who accepted Marcus Junior and those who wanted his father. The fourth faction was an alliance between the supporters of Hingast and Enthan. Olista doubted if any other claimant would be put forward. The Senate was not supposed to tell the Supreme Council whom it could recommend to its attention and Olista suspected Hingast supporters in the Supreme Council had encouraged the Senators to rebel.
He glanced at the public gallery, packed for the first time he could remember, but he saw no sign of Sandev. Trust her to stay away now. Her plan that the two Vintners should meet so one could defeat the other had misfired. That Branad Vintner had lost the battle seemed to have had no effect on the factions. Even now he had not renounced his claim; a hint that the renowned mercy of Marcus Vintner should perhaps have been set aside for one day. Yet he recognized the need for that mercy. Marcus Vintner's chances were increased the more Prefectures he had under his control and, as importantly, how large an army he commanded. If Hingast was coming, fortunate indeed that both Vintners still lived.
Olista glanced at them. If Marcus felt betrayed by Branad, he showed no sign. That the younger man had political gifts was beyond doubt; he had brought the Senate to silence by speaking quietly and seemingly without effort on his part. Sandev was right: Marcus Vintner was the man to be Emperor and bloodlines had nothing to do with it.
***
Outside the coronation building, Zenepha waited with the crowds, their voices mingling into a low hum that hung in the air. He saw human and sylph beggars picking pockets as they pushed through the throng.
Everybody realized that something momentous was happening inside, but Zenepha knew they would hear no major announcement today. He would be surprised if the Senate could decide quickly which of the two claimants should take the Throne. If they made their minds up at all. Guardsmen stood outside with some of the Vintner soldiers, all outwardly relaxed. Close to the outlander soldiers, the two painted sylphs crouched on the ground.
Zenepha watched them with interest. Sitting on their heels, they took turns to throw dice. Whenever someone passed, they glanced up and earpoints twitched, more alert than the soldiers around them. Guardsmen kept nobody away: more people had gone into the Senate, presumably to the public gallery, than normally entered in a month and more thronged the steps. A few paused to speak to the outlanders. But they all stayed away from the sylphs, perhaps unsure of them.
Zenepha decided he would speak to them.
He crossed the square and approached the steps. The City Guardsmen looked away and the outlander soldiers stared at him. The two painted sylphs were aware of his approach: their silvery gray eyes regarded him without expression and their earpoints stilled. One of the outlander soldiers stepped forward to block his way.
"What can we do for you?"
"It's all right," interrupted one of the Guardsmen. "This one is with the Supreme Councilor."
The soldier nodded and stepped back.
"You belong to Olista-ya?" asked one of the sylphs, staring at the newcomer.
"I am Zenepha-y-Olista." He dropped onto his heels. "May I join you?" This close, he realized the sylph with the black slashes across his face and chest was taller than him, the talkative one perhaps a little shorter.
"I am Neptarik-y-Balnus," replied the same sylph. "I belong to Balnus." He nodded to the soldier who had temporarily halted Zenepha's progress.
Zenepha looked at the silent, taller, sylph, who blinked and shrugged.
"I am Belaika-y-Marcus."
Zenepha's eyes widened and his earpoints shot bolt upright. "You are Marcus Vintner's sylph?" His voice almost squeaked. "The Emperor?"
Belaika's eyes narrowed and his earpoints lashed forwards and back before returning to their normal position. "You support him as Emperor?"
"My owner does. My views are irrelevant."
Neptarik smiled as he eyed Zenepha's silver collar. "True, you are a slave, too."
Zenepha changed the subject. He wasn't interested in thrones, or who sat on them. "Are you warriors?"
Belaika and Neptarik exchanged glances and soft laughter. The shorter sylph replied.
"We scout for the army," said Neptarik. "We see more than humans, and report back quicker. We scout, but do not fight. We are not warriors."
Zenepha grinned with relief. Ever since he had first seen the two sylphs, he worried that the human taste for violence had spread to his own race. "Is this paint?"
"Skin paint," replied Neptarik. "Hides us in the field."
Zenepha nodded. "Blend in better." He looked up. "Not in cities, though. You stand out and cannot hide."
Belaika rejoined the conversation. "Humans see only what they expect to see. Stand still, do not blink and humans will walk past without ever seeing you. Move a muscle, and they see. Stillness is best." He glanced around him. "We passed many sylph beggars. Have they no owners to care for them properly?"
"Bandits attack farms," explained Zenepha. "They kill the farmers, but spare the sylphs, who have nowhere to go. Many stay out there, but others flee to the city."
"Where they are forced to beg." Belaika sounded unimpressed and his earpoints sagged a little. He glanced up at the coronation building. "The rulers should do something. That is the agreement: humans give security and sylphs give service. They need workers and we need owners."
Zenepha blinked. "Perhaps Marcus-ya will do that." He did not add that some humans did not deserve to own any sylph; that some owners abused, rather than used, those for whom they were responsible.
Belaika nodded. "Enya says he will protect the countryside as it should be protected. Then, sylphs who live on the streets can find owners and be happy. As it should be."
"Of course, the wild sylphs may colonize it instead," interrupted Neptarik.
"If they stay wild much longer," retorted Belaika. "I doubt if –"
"Wait, wait." Zenepha looked from one of the scouts to the other. "Are you saying you have wild sylphs with you?"
The scouts exchanged another look.
"We found a slave caravan on the way here," replied Belaika, getting friendlier and more talkative by the moment. "We freed the captives, but they have nowhere to go. They say that they only travel with us until they find somewhere to live, but I think they will ask to stay before much longer." He gave an ironic laugh. "I wonder what the slavers will say then."
"It is a crime to take wild sylphs against their will," remarked Zenepha. "Where are the slavers now?"
"Enya brought them with us. They will be handed over to Markan justice."
Zenepha nodded. "You think they will be punished?"
"Enya thinks probably not. Until I am shown different, I agree."
"Your owner is wise." Zenepha sighed.
Neptarik rattled the dice in his cup and threw them.
"Twelve," said Belaika, before they came to rest.
"Eight," replied the other sylph, before rattling the dice again.
"Six," said Belaika.
"Seven," grunted Neptarik.
Zenepha looked from one to the other. "What is the point of this game?" he asked.
Both pairs of silvery gray eyes regarded him solemnly.
"To pass time," replied Neptarik, eventually.
At that moment, there was movement on the steps above. The soldiers came ready and the crowd stirred. The two Vintner claimants had left the Senate. Slaves scurried to bring the impressive horses, and Zenepha took a step backwards, away from the scouts. The claimants came down the steps, the one with the darkest eyes joining the sylph scouts. The infertile Zenepha had earlier seen heeled this claimant. She smiled warmly at Belaika, but shook her head at his raised eyebrows and slanted-forwards earpoints. She glanced sideways at Zenepha, eyes cool.
Zenepha bowed to both the claimant and in respect to the two scouts. Belaika smiled at the Markan sylph before turning his attention to his owner, while Neptarik inclined his head. Zenepha stayed on the steps and watched the troops and their leaders move away, until people blocked his view of them. He looked up.
"Enya," he said, acknowledging the presence.
"Enjoying your day off?" asked Olista.
"It is... interesting. The younger one is Marcus Vintner?"
"Yes. He is impressive." Olista glanced down at his sylph. "Very impressive. How did you get on with the scouts?"
Zenepha nodded. "They do not fight, only scout. I had no idea sylphs could be used for these things."
"Yours is a surprising race, my boy. I've always told you that. You all have hidden talents; if only you showed them more often."
Thinking this to be dangerous ground, Zenepha hastily changed the subject. "Have the Senate agreed to anything?"
"Such as recommending one of them?" Olista shook his head. "Not a chance. The faction that should support Marcus is divided between him and his father. Even if they joined, the vote would still be split between Marcus and Branad."
"Why did they split?" Zenepha blinked.
"They feel Marcus's father should come to Marka to renounce his claim before the Senate. Personally, I feel the Senate resents having no say in which claimants we invited in the first place, so they're exercising every right they have, just to be awkward. It was ever thus between Senate and Council."
"I see."
"As I understand it, Branad Vintner lost the battle, but he has not renounced his claim yet."
"Will he?"
"Perhaps. Life would certainly be simpler if he did. A faction supports him, and others support Enthan or Hingast."
Zenepha suppressed a shudder. "I hoped their arrival would make Markan politics a little easier," he said, boldly venturing his opinion without waiting for permission.
"It may make a slight difference eventually," replied Olista, indifferent to his sylph's insubordination. "Though I doubt anything will ever make Markan politics any easier. I don't know if Sandev is still coming to see you tomorrow evening; this turn of events may force her to cancel."
Zenepha shrugged. "I do not mind."
"I hope the Senate and Supreme Council realize that those men camping outside Marka with their armies – they work together for the moment – can take this city easily, should they wish."
Zenepha's eyes widened. "Do you think they will?"
"The Vintners falling out and fighting immediately outside the gates worries me more." Olista glanced up at the sun. "Late morning. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. I know somewhere to eat. Want to come with me?"
The sylph dropped his gaze. "Se bata," he replied. His question remained unanswered, but he had not forgotten it. He glanced after the departing Vintners and hoped that the Senate would choose wisely – and soon.
***
The boy was breathless as he reported to Marlen and Petan. His voice squeaked with excitement as words spilled from his mouth. "Marcus Vintner and Branad Vintner are both in the city, with grand horses and lots of soldiers. There are more outside the city, they say there are thousands and thousands –"
Marlen opened his mouth, but didn't have a chance.
"– and they've got sylph warriors as well. Painted in gray and green and black so you can't see 'em till they jump up at you. They say they can kill you with a look cos they don't have no other weapon. I saw 'em myself, just from a distance to be safe and they look really scary. But though the Vintners are here, the Senate can't agree which one to make Emperor and –"
"Thank you." Marlen forced a smile, though he wanted to slap the irritating messenger into silence. "You have done well; you may go." He tossed a silver coin to the boy, who snatched it out of the air and secreted it away.
"Thank you, sir." The boy bowed and left the room.
Marlen and Petan exchanged a glance. "Painted sylphs? New one on me. We'll have to find someone to carry messages who's a little less... excitable... in future. I thought he was going to choke, he couldn't get his words out fast enough. I wonder how much he embellished?"
"Like the sylph warriors." Petan chuckled to himself. "Sylph warriors!"
Marlen snorted. "Most sylphs find it difficult to keep their footing in strong winds, they're too light. Even a young child can pick up and carry an adult sylph. They'd be all but useless as warriors. If you could persuade one to pick up a weapon and do violence in the first place."
"It's not the first report to mention painted sylphs," pointed out Petan. "Everyone has mentioned them. What are they for?"
Marlen nodded. "Not warriors. They're too... timid. I'll wager my best coat to the undergarments you wore all last month that they are messengers, or something like that."
Petan managed a smile. Rare when Marlen made jokes and when he did, they were usually at someone else's expense. "Scouts?" he hazarded.
"That would explain the paint." Marlen stroked his chin. "Intelligence gatherers. Scouts. Messengers."
Petan nodded approval. "Good idea, whoever thought of it. They'll be good for that and the paint will help camouflage them."
"But the sylphs aren't the problem, they're not even an annoyance." Marlen brought the discussion back on track. "The two Vintners are the problem."
"Kill them," suggested Petan.
"Gaining what? Both have sons. Branad's is grown, I believe."
"Their combined army will protect the city. Hingast cannot easily overcome this many men."
Marlen smiled. "Our Emperor has more than a few tricks he can use to defeat the Vintners. It's quite easy to tie down large numbers of soldiers by forcing them to spread all over the land. A series of raids..."
As Marlen continued to speak, Petan's smile broadened and he began to feel much happier. The Vintners wouldn't know what had hit them.
***
Chapter 5
> Roads To Marka
Zandra Ems, wife of Marcus Vintner, opened the carriage door and stepped down, followed by Eleka-y-Belaika, heavy with child. Guard Commander Mansard Dullas turned to regard her, his dark blue eyes expressionless. In the middle distance, the remains of a wrecked caravan and clouds of squabbling carrion birds were clear to the eye. Closer, a doubled-up sylph scout retched between swilling his mouth with water and spitting it out. Scouts needed no camouflage on this mission, but old habits died hard with sylphs, so he wore his paint and scouting breeches. His wives flanked him, offering comfort and sympathy.
Most Guard Commanders would have rushed Zandra back inside the armored carriage, fearing the woman they believed destined to be empress might be harmed. Mansard had watched her grow up and – much to her mother's horror – taught her the sword. He felt more secure in his position and rarely interfered with her wishes. Whenever he advised caution, she listened. She did not always agree with his professional judgment, but she respected it, and obeyed accordingly.
The Guard were fully trained soldiers and the personal guard of the Vintner family. There were only three ranks beneath the Supreme Guard Commander: Guard Commander, Guard Lieutenant and Guard Officer. Pay higher than for ordinary soldiers always attracted plenty of volunteers, so senior officers always chose the best.
Zandra glanced compassionately at the scout before turning to Eleka. "Back inside with you," she ordered. "Whatever's over there is not nice."
"Se bata." The pregnant sylph bobbed her head and darted back into the carriage.
"You are quite right," intoned Mansard. "It is not nice over there." He glanced at the sylph scout, who quivered as if suffering from fever. "Bascon has seen many things, but he's never reacted like this before."
At the mention of his name the scout looked up, eyes and earpoints betraying misery. Seeing he wasn't wanted, he returned to staring at the ground and dry heaving.
Mansard continued. "I've sent some of the lads to bury the bodies."
"Many dead?"
"Four men, five women, six children and five sylphs. The caravan's empty now, but I wonder if there was any need to slaughter the people. None had weapons and it looks like they offered no trouble to their attackers."