The Imhotep nodded. "Just so. But people need reminders. If you would only –"
"No."
"You haven't heard my suggestion yet."
"If you expect me to attend those moldy lectures you give to people and waste hours in a drafty uncomfortable building, the answer is no. I'm here to help His Majesty."
The Imhotep's smile looked forced. "It would give people hope."
"People always have hope. That's one of the admirable traits of humans. Usually, anyway."
"And faith."
"Faith is a matter of conscience. Choice is another trait I envy. You belong to neither Sephiroth and may choose your own course."
The door opened. At last!
Turning, Imhotep and ilven bowed. "Majesty."
Zenepha looked from one to the other. "You wished to see me, Imhotep?"
"I did, Majesty. On a private matter."
"Then come through."
Djerana relaxed as the Imhotep went into the room Zenepha referred to as his study. Hardly that of course, but it sufficed for official visitors. Selkina watched the ilven.
"Did he trouble you much?"
Djerana shook her head. "Humans who delight in religion always trouble me," he replied. "Religious humans are fine, but those who delight in it are always trouble."
Selkina shrugged. "All humans are strange. Music?"
The ilven glanced down at the flute still in her hands. "Why not?" She raised the flute to her lips again.
Again, she played as she felt, the initial angry notes fading to something more relaxing as she put her conversation with the Imhotep out of her mind. She was unaware when Zenepha returned to the room, unaware two sylphs now followed every note. Finally, she took the flute from her lips and opened her eyes.
"This is beautiful music," said Zenepha. "I have never heard anything like it before."
"Thank you." Djerana's eyes shone. "It's a pleasure to share it. I seldom play for other than my sisters."
"Yes," agreed Zenepha and Selkina, speaking together. They exchanged a surprised look before laughing.
The ilven looked from one sylph to the other and realized that these two were perfectly matched. Selkina, happy to remain in the background while her husband ruled the city, remained an important emotional prop for him, essential for his comfort and wellbeing. She considered her words carefully before speaking.
"The humans you chose to help you govern are an able group," she said, cautiously. "Marcus Vintner is impressive, as are Mikhan and Ranallic. I approve of your former owner and Marka is in good hands."
"Thank you, but you must praise Olista." Zenepha blushed a brighter blue. "He made most suggestions."
Djerana nodded. "On the streets, people cheer you. Already, you earn respect and that is no mean feat."
Selkina nodded. "The servants say how wonderful it is to have an Emperor, and they don't mutter 'even if he is only a sylph'. Not now."
Zenepha barked a laugh. "They'll say different when something goes wrong. My commanders and politicians run Marka, not me."
"Not necessarily," interrupted Guard Commander Mansard, from the doorway.
Ilven and sylphs turned.
"You sound certain." Zenepha's voice was flat.
Mansard smiled. "The advantage of monarchy is that people identify with a person as their ruler, instead of an institution, no matter how noble that may be. Their prince shares their sorrow or joy, he remains among them no matter what. His military commanders and politicians defer to him for any ultimate decision, even if that decision is no more than official sanction. These people will follow you anywhere and everywhere, Your Majesty."
Still unconvinced, Zenepha sniffed. "What brings you here, Guard Commander?" he asked, changing the subject.
Mansard's dark blue eyes twinkled. "Your Majesty has forgotten his command for me to come here at this time every day? To train you how to avoid trouble when trouble comes looking for you. You wished to learn the same self-defense techniques used by our scouts."
Zenepha's face cleared. He had forgotten, but he was not about to let the human know that. "I lost track of the time," he said.
Mansard nodded. "If it is still your pleasure, I think we should begin ebatela now."
Selkina and Djerana settled down to watch as Mansard began to put the Emperor through some basic exercises and moves. They also might learn something.
***
Nicolfer looked into the far corner of the cellar. The solitary light crystal threw dark shadows across most of the floor and walls. Tangan cowered in that corner, hugging knees drawn up under his chin. His head tilted forward and long hair hid his features. His earpoints were buried under that hair, hidden from view, and a low whimpering came from him. Nicolfer made a note to shorten the chain that secured him; it allowed him far too much freedom.
The boy had crammed himself as far into the corner as he could go, seeking protection from her, or if it might somehow block his fears. The sinabra smelled strong down here, mixed with other odors. She must remember to have him washed now and then. Although not directly related, the sinabra always seemed stronger when a sylph was unwashed.
"You cannot hide from me there." She grimaced as Tangan gave no reaction.
She had tried to reach the most primitive part of his brain, the part that dealt with all survival matters. The potential for violence would be hidden there. She began to doubt if it existed at all. Those who had mixed together two separate species to make modern sylphs had done their work well. They had wanted non-violence and it seemed they had succeeded.
But there was more than one way.
She crossed the floor and crouched before him. No need to maintain the pretense of disablement or squalor here. This close, his sinabra flowed strongly around her. He flinched as she touched his arm.
She masked a sigh. He had been the most aggressive sylph she could find, known for squabbling with others. That squabbling never extended to humans and certainly never translated into violence. Offering him violence failed to provoke; nothing provoked him. She must be careful. She wanted to remold and modify him. She had no need or wish to break him.
"You force me to try another way."
For the first time, Tangan looked up and almost met her eyes. He quivered now, probably a mix of fear and shock. She saw doubt in his glowing silvery gray eyes, though his earpoints were still wilted. He hugged his knees even closer, but at least he no longer hid his face from her.
She looked down at him. The risk of damaging this sylph was great. Despite her reputation, she liked sylphs and did not wish to harm one unnecessarily. Or so she convinced herself. Despite that, she believed him mentally strong enough to survive.
"I'm afraid you won't like this, there will be some pain."
Tangan's whimpers grew in volume as Nicolfer came even closer and stretched out her hands...
***
Lance Captain Kestan led seventeen men through the forest, following Aksanvun. The first raid since Hingast's arrival, and the first time any wild sylph would see battle. Several were scouting, though Ean-y-Felis sent all the directions. Kestan felt sorry for Ean, for he and his master were trapped on opposite sides of Marka's walls. That would not impair the scout's professionalism – after all, sylphs were often separated from their owners while scouting – and Kestan moved forward with confidence.
He and his men were not mounted and had left their usual uniforms behind. Drab clothing and painted faces were the order of the day. The scouts had taken great delight in making up and applying the paint, using subtly different schemes per man. The scouts could tell the soldiers apart, but Kestan knew he could not. They didn't want the foresters to realize that they were under attack until too late, hence the paint and drab clothes.
No escape route would be provided; Kestan wanted these men to be missed and a search party sent for them. He had decided the risk must be taken, so they would wait for and ambush that search party. Though the thought of killing civilians caused a shudder, the
effect of this small raid on the morale of Hingast's men made it worth abandoning the usual rules of war. And made easier because he knew nothing would stay Hingast's hand should the situation be reversed. Despite this justification, many of his soldiers viewed the raid as no better than murder. No honor would be gained tonight.
The sound of axes and adzes reached his ears and he knew they neared their victims. Of course, the sylphs with them had heard the foresters long since and now fanned out, ready to whistle a warning if any prey tried to escape. They would also warn of the search party's approach, who would then provide yet more deaths intended to upset and frighten the enemy. Hingast would learn that soldiers were free of the city, but he accepted that loss of information. After all, the man would learn eventually that not everyone was penned inside Marka.
Aksanvun peeled away from the small column and took up his station at the rear, as commanded. Kestan and his men crept forward, moving silently. Ean had reported sixteen foresters, all working on recently felled trees, making spars for more war machines. One of many such groups, but these foresters were the furthest from Hingast and the easiest to attack.
Kestan wanted Hingast to send guards with his work parties and hoped the heaviest guard would be put on those working furthest away. He then intended raiding the group nearest Hingast's army. After that, he would rely on the sylphs to tell him where the guards were weakest before deciding where to assault next. And attack the enemy in his camp. Every opportunity to harry this army would be exploited, hoping to inflict damage and casualties far beyond anything expected from his small force. By this time next week, he hoped to have ten or more raiding parties constantly attacking.
He drew his sword and held it above his head.
He and his men burst from their cover and fell on the surprised foresters, many of whom cried out in terror. Kestan thrust his sword, did not wait for the man to fall and turned his attention to a large forester already swinging his ax, a man obviously with his wits about him. Ax met sword and was parried aside, before Kestan slid his dagger into the forester's ribs. He turned again, ready to cut the next man down.
"You fools!" yelled one man. "We're on the same side!"
Kestan restrained an urge to laugh, even as he ran the forester through. This one thought he and his men were raiders working for Hingast.
Sweat trickled down his back; even in winter battles were hot, but the Markan summer broiled and he was glad to be unarmored. Bad enough in leather tunic and breeches.
Only minutes had passed since falling on the foresters and they were now dead. One man licked blood from a small wound while using his other hand to hold cut skin together. One of the scouts stepped forward and pressed leaves to the cut before tying it off with a bandage. The soldier nodded thanks. That looked to be the only blood lost to his own side.
He smiled. "Gentlemen, I think we drew first blood."
The men grinned at each other before stepping back into cover. They were too well disciplined for cheering. Aksanvun's eyes and earpoints betrayed disgust and revulsion at what had happened. Kestan knew the sylph would be pale under his paint. They all reacted the same way first time. All the wild sylphs here would share the feeling, unless they had something wrong with them. Kestan wasn't bothered by the reaction, for no sylph enjoyed fighting, even if not actively involved. They would get used to it.
"Now," he said, "we wait for the search party."
***
Chapter 18
Reprisal
General Hanan's pale blue eyes betrayed concern as he reported to Hingast. A group of foresters and the search party sent after them had disappeared. He had sent another search party – this one larger and better armed – and it returned with bad news. The foresters and the first search party were dead, ambushed by unknown soldiers.
"Markans," grunted Hingast, sourly.
"It would seem so." Dervra smiled at the hapless General, before tapping his fingers together. "Infantry or cavalry?"
"No sign of horses," replied Hanan, "but they used swords and bows, which suggests light cavalry."
"Cavalry acting as infantry?" Dervra raised an eyebrow. "Would they lower themselves?"
"The arrows were fired from smaller bows than those used by infantry." Hanan gave Dervra a cold look. He resented having his professional judgment questioned. "Bows most often used from horseback, in fact."
"A large group of men?" Dervra seemed unaffected by the General's distaste.
"Not on the raid." Hanan shook his head. "No more than twenty and perhaps fewer than fifteen. With all the tracks, it was hard to tell."
"Did your men follow the tracks?" pressed Dervra.
Hingast watched and listened.
"They led to deadfall traps and tripwires. Whoever's behind the raid is clever and cunning. From Marcus Vintner's army, no doubt."
Dervra stroked his chin.
"I agree with Hanan," said Hingast. "The man is intelligent and obviously spends much of his day dreaming up new tactics. I'm curious to learn how these soldiers knew where to strike."
"Sylph scouts. Lots of the footprints were arranged so." Hanan placed his hands to show bare feet and half feet. "Sylphs rise on the balls of their feet for anything quicker than a slow walk. A shame our scheme with the dog was compromised. We should have ensured that Sajalan beat that foolish Meylka of his into a pulp."
Hingast stared. And people believed he was cruel. "She got punished," he growled. "These things happen."
"Even so –"
"For now, General Hanan, the groups of foresters furthest from the camp must be protected at all times. Ensure camp sentries are tripled and spaced every fifty pacas, or the enemy will be creeping among the tents. And tell everyone to keep their wits about them and report anything out of place. No punishments for false alarms."
Hanan inclined his head. "It shall be done, Majesty." He stared at Dervra for a cold moment, before he ducked out of the tent.
Dervra sighed. "Your General doesn't like me very much. I may have to hurt him."
"Leave Hanan alone." Hingast's gray-blue eyes glared haughtily at the advisor. "He's good at what he does. And I'm not surprised he got tetchy, with you doubting him like that."
Dervra shrugged. "We must cover all possibilities. Which leads me to ask another question. Can we be certain that this was not our own raiders at work?"
Hingast drained his alovak. "Very certain," he replied, after a pause. "For one thing, our raiders no longer operate here. They have work elsewhere, because we want no mistakes like those you suggest. Secondly, we do not use sylphs. I'll offer a reward to anyone who can capture a sylph scout. It will be fun to hunt one of them; let's see how good they really are."
Dervra smiled, though it did not touch his blue eyes. "Then it seems Marcus Vintner is cleverer than I credited."
Hingast shrugged. "Best not to underestimate enemies; they have a nasty habit of surprising you. However, we don't need worry overmuch about these irritating little raids. Our men will quickly discover where these soldiers are hiding and sort them out."
"Messenger, Majesty!" called the guard, outside the tent.
"Let him pass," replied Hingast, glancing at Dervra.
"Majesty." The messenger swept a low bow, perhaps to mask nervousness, which could only mean more bad news.
"What is it, Malan?"
The messenger swallowed. "Majesty. There has been a raid on the far side of the city. Eighteen men killed and sixteen war machines destroyed."
"All right, thank you. Leave us please."
The moment the messenger was out of the tent, Dervra turned to the other man, a triumphant smile on his face. "I thought you said not to underestimate your enemies," he chortled. "It seems to me that these irritating little raids are already becoming more than mere pinpricks."
Hingast stroked the scabbard of his sword and calmed himself. It took some effort. He reminded himself over and over that Dervra had power, that he could destroy him if he even breathed out of place. He mus
t wait. "We should let these Markans grow ever more ambitious and confident. Arrogance will follow and then they will make mistakes." He smiled. "Then, it will be my turn to be the hammer."
"We cannot afford to have huge numbers of men tied down hunting these troops," cautioned Dervra.
"That's right." Hingast's smile widened. "But I've thought of a way to tempt them out to attack us in force."
"Really?"
"I'll retaliate against these raids by attacking Marka itself. Not a full scale assault, but a little tester. Let us see how well the Vintner armies work with the Markans, eh?"
Dervra nodded. "I approve of this, Your Majesty. Wholeheartedly approve." He hoped his smile hid his dislike of the man opposite. Hingast would live for as long as he served Dervra's ends and not a moment longer. He prayed only that Hingast would prove equal to the task ahead. He could not afford loose ends.
***
Sandev stared at the focus. This one boasted green, blue and white striations reflecting the green light of her desk light crystal. She felt increasingly tired as she filled it; charging was the word they used to describe the action. This was her second today, but she only managed two every other day. Other days she managed one. She wished she could tell Grayar, but she knew his likely reaction if – or more likely when – he learned she had the foci.
She could not even confide in her ever-faithful Caya. The sylph did not understand the Gift and wanted nothing whatsoever to do with it. This normal sylph reaction did not make it any easier to bear.
She still waited for Sernan to come back to her concerning the sylphs who had escaped Kelanus's alleged grasp. She knew better than to go and visit him again; he would report when he had something to say and not before. If she kept popping across to see him, he would feel she hounded him for answers. If there were no answers, he would have said by now. For once, no news was good news. He had the sniff of a good trail.
She stared at the focus in frustration. The things had never been easy to charge and she began to despair of ever having enough to evacuate Marka's people. And this one proved especially difficult.
"Ah, the Father take it!" She almost slung the focus into the far corner. Father, but she felt tired! She gripped the focus in her hand and, if it had not been so sturdily made, might even have crushed it. She calmed herself and returned her concentration to charging. She must be ready for the worst. Only the foci could move them all to safety.