Markan Throne by Nicholas A. Rose
"The master caught his apprentice Ellas with a sylph. Ellas murdered his master and fled when he realized that more people knew of his predilection. And in the south a man can be tried and proven and sentenced in his absence. Hence the warrant for Ellas Panir's execution."
Kelanus abruptly turned to smile at Ranallic. "Isn't that so, Ellas Panir?"
Ranallic shook his head. "None of this can be corroborated. You can say anything you like, but you have nothing to back it up with. Who is Larna Eydren? Someone you invented, perhaps?"
"This is all very well," interrupted Olista, before the hearing descended to a slanging match. He stared at Kelanus. "But does not explain how you claim innocence when you were seen."
"I have no idea what Ellas Panir got up to in the fifteen years between fleeing the south and becoming a Lieutenant in Branad Vintner's army. However, I do suggest that among the skills he learned is a little known one the Gifted call shapeshifting. Several of the Gifted remarked that Branad's tent stank of sorcery and we know that sylphs feel the Gift – or sorcery – whenever it is used."
"Interesting." Olista blinked.
"Nonsense!" snapped Ranallic.
"Your Majesty?" Kelanus raised his eyebrows.
Zenepha nodded. "That is true; we can all sense the Gift and sorcery, though we do not always know what it is we sense."
Kelanus continued. "The Gifted can test people to find out if they have the Gift inborn, or whether they have ever used sorcery." He smiled at Ranallic. "I'm prepared to take these tests. Are you?"
Ranallic glowered back.
Zenepha suddenly rubbed his arms as something formed in the clear area. Moments later, Grayar and a middle-aged southern woman stood before the court.
The innkeeper from Pensdren stared around the hall and started when she saw who occupied the Throne.
"It's true," breathed Larna Eydren. "There's a sylph on the Throne of Marka."
Grayar grumbled something under his breath while excited mutterings swept through the hall.
Kelanus smiled. "Majesty, this is Larna Eydren. As you can see, she is no invention, but a real person."
Larna's attention fixed on the man who called himself Ranallic Eydren, a cold fury in her dark slanted eyes. Her mouth worked silently for a few moments.
"Ellas Panir," she hissed. "Deviant. Murderer of my father!" Larna reached inside her tunic and withdrew from it a well-read parchment.
Kelanus took it from her fingers and passed it to Zenepha. "This," he said, "is the warrant for Ellas Panir's execution. I have another copy which you are welcome to compare with this."
Zenepha barely glanced at the document. "I'm afraid Hejiller's law holds no sway here," he said, his light voice sad.
"I know." Kelanus smiled. "Which is why I demand the right to trial by combat. Let Siranva decide who speaks the truth."
"You demand it only because a court cannot prove your filthy accusations," retorted Ranallic. He gestured towards Grayar and Larna, but did not look at them. "This is collusion, arranged earlier."
"I doubt if a court can prove your allegations either, General Ranallic," countered Olista, "in the absence of witnesses willing to speak on your behalf. The existence of sorcery is too well known." He turned to Zenepha. "Majesty, there is no reason in law to prevent this trial by combat. These men are both warriors and outlanders. The Law demands such trials are executed while the blood is hot, so we should make our way to the place where such combats were traditionally held."
Zenepha nodded. "Very well."
Larna put a hand on Kelanus's arm. "Forgive me, but I will not stay to watch this." Her dark eyes held hope. "I trust you can...?"
Kelanus smiled. "He's a dead man walking," he replied, softly.
Grayar's piercing blue eyes were not quite so warm. "You'd better know what you're doing," he grunted. "You must excuse me, also. Once I've returned Larna to her inn, I must collect Salu. It's time for us to be on our way home." Moments later, both were gone.
Everybody in the hall turned at a shout. Guardsmen tried to prevent whoever caused the commotion from approaching, without success.
"Your Majesty, you must let me speak."
"Who are you?" asked Zenepha. He nodded to the guardsmen, who stepped back, but kept hands on sword hilts, just in case.
"My name is Sernan Anjak Lodern, Senior Lieutenant in the Sandesteran City Guard." He pointed to a soldier. "He can vouch I am who I say." He pointed out a couple more. "So can he, and him."
The men Sernan pointed to nodded as he spoke.
"Have you anything relevant to our discussion?"
"Only concerning the murder of sylphs in Sandester, Majesty. Murders of which Kelanus still stands accused."
Zenepha sat back. "Speak." He nodded to Olista.
"Unfortunately, a full investigation was not completed at the time of the accusations, because charges were not proceeded with. An investigation was begun, but dropped after initial statements were taken. However, more recently, I was asked to conduct a more thorough investigation, which I have done." Sernan patted his case. "Everything is here."
"What did your investigation discover?" Olista's voice was quiet.
"Two sylphs made the allegations: Teren-y-Veldar and Milen-y-Harrar. Neither would testify, because though they said the man who accosted them looked like Kelanus Arus Butros, both claimed that it was not him. Neither could explain what they meant at the time. I did not understand this, until I heard about another sylph who says he saw a man who looked like Kelanus but was not."
"Are you saying Kelanus has a twin?" Olista cocked an eyebrow.
"No."
"What else did your investigation discover?"
"I tried to trace the two sylphs. One... um, Milen, threw himself from the city walls a week after Kelanus lost his commission. Veldar tells me that his sylph absconded at about the same time and never been seen since. We filed a runaway sylph report at the time, still on record."
"Guilty conscience?" Shock painted Zenepha's face. Thankfully rare, sylph suicide usually only happened after losing a loved spouse, or owner.
"Perhaps. Or the true killer returned to finish the job. I also looked into the other murders. We're not talking about ordinary molestation. There is no delicate way of putting this, Your Majesty. The unfortunate creatures' genitals were removed. Cut away. A very distinctive method. The unfortunates were left to bleed to death."
Kelanus looked towards Tahena and she returned his gaze. "Larna told me that was how the sylphs were killed in Pensdren," he said. "I have Tahena and Neptarik as witnesses."
"I was also asked to learn if any sylphs had died since." Sernan's dark blue eyes were cold.
"And?" Zenepha felt ill. How could anybody behave this way?
"Not in Sandester. The real killer developed more cunning once Kelanus left. Sylphs are not always reported missing and some owners can be, ah, abusive towards their chattels. But I identified three possible victims in the records, all of whom were mutilated in the same way as those murdered in Sandester."
A loud exclamation ran around the hall. Even Ranallic stared in shock.
Sernan continued. "This proves that whoever murdered sylphs in this peculiar way was not Kelanus Butros, who by this time served Marcus Vintner. As such methods of killing are compulsive, rather than controlled behaviors, we can infer that Kelanus is also innocent of the murders prior to his resignation and effective exile."
Olista's expression hardened. "Do you know who did kill them?"
Sernan smiled. "The last three victims were killed with the army camped nearby and senior officers billeted in the same village. Usually when the army had stayed nearby for some time. Checking back to the murders we are aware of in Sandester, I managed to draw up a shortlist of five names. All officers who joined the army nine years ago, when the killings began. Two of those men were killed in the last battle between Marcus and Branad Vintner. Two others are still in Sandester."
"And the fifth?" pressed Olista.
"This is nonsense," protested Ranallic.
Excited conversation ran through the hall.
"Majesty?" Kelanus looked eager.
"This throws new light on everything," said Zenepha, "but my heart is heavy because this still cannot be proved in a court of law. There is no reason to prevent you from exercising your right."
"Of course not." Ranallic sneered. "Majesty, let Siranva show the truth." His dark eyes glittered. "Let Kelanus demonstrate his guilt to the world."
Looking around at the shocked faces in the hall, Zenepha sensed that Ranallic had lost a lot of his supporters in the last few moments. "Gentlemen, it is past time for us to go to the field where this trial by combat will take place."
A City Guardsman placed a hand on Kelanus's arm. "You will come with me, sir."
***
During the First Empire, it had been customary for condemned men to leave the city by the West Gate. Still blocked off as part of Mikhan's defensive measures, the procession from Coronation Hall instead led the two combatants through the North Gate. Half of Hingast's torso hung in a cage, already black with carrion. As Zenepha was there, cheers followed them as people recognized the sylph they believed had led them to victory. So far at least, his reign would be regarded as a success. Outside the city, part of the field had been roped off, long benches set around it for spectators.
Kelanus could see that Zenepha wanted to be elsewhere. The Emperor watched Belaika with some envy as the scout went a different way before they passed through the gates.
More sylphs, mostly scouts, stood outside the walls. They touched fist to heart in salute and called out good wishes to Kelanus, but clearly Neptarik was the only sylph prepared to see the whole thing through. He strode alongside Kelanus in silence.
Minutes later Kelanus and Ranallic, each with a Guardsman, faced each other.
Olista spoke. "In Marka, trials by combat are conducted with the maladi, two apiece. These weapons are light and sharp. The belief is that Siranva will bless those blades held by the innocent man." The Supreme Councilor nodded to the two Guardsmen before taking his seat.
Kelanus stared at the blades presented to him. He lifted one from its box, marveling at the exquisite craftsmanship and the etchings along its curved blade. He hefted it experimentally before taking the second. With one in each hand, he swung them in a crossing figure-of-eight pattern before nodding to the Guardsman.
Ranallic stood with the maladi crossed over his chest, eyes closed, perhaps in silent prayer.
"There are but two rules," continued Olista. "Whoever leaves the field of battle has lost the duel. If one kills the other, he has his victory." He nodded to the Guardsmen, who stepped back.
Ranallic's eyes snapped open. With a loud cry, he rushed forward, blade meeting blade. Kelanus parried, keeping his movements to a minimum. Ranallic had always preferred to attack, to hit fast and hard. It sometimes cost him battles and Kelanus trusted it would also cost him the duel.
The blades made more sound than either man expected. Ranallic already had the measure of them and his movements become more economical, which was not really what Kelanus wanted.
The outlander General, slanted eyes burning with hate and fury, probed everywhere, looking to exploit weak points in his opponent's defense. The maladi flashed in the sunlight: locking, sliding, slipping free and flashing again as those who wielded them used the weapons to best advantage.
Kelanus began to sweat, aware Ranallic's ambidexterity gave him an advantage. The blades locked again.
"Tired already?" Ranallic broke away.
Kelanus felt coldly aware that he already struggled; he had not realized trials by combat were fought with two blades. He could do nothing but meet and turn aside his opponent's blows. He inwardly winced as a nick on his right arm announced first blood to Ranallic.
The crowd drew its breath and some cheered. Kelanus's supporters surged forward, held back by the City Guard. A part of Kelanus was distantly aware of the risk of a bloodbath, no matter who won the duel. He pushed everything out of mind, except the enemy and his weapons.
Once again, Ranallic slipped under his guard and left another telltale line of red, this time near his shoulder. The man toyed with him! Ranallic wanted him helpless before the kill.
So far, Kelanus had let Ranallic attack. Now he pushed ruthlessly, driving his enemy back, swinging with both maladi, trying and failing to disguise the fact that he was all but useless with a weapon in his left hand.
Lunging with both weapons slanted ahead, Kelanus stumbled as Ranallic sidestepped and a booted foot casually swept his legs from under him. He landed awkwardly on his injured shoulder and only just managed to muffle his cry. Smiling, Ranallic swished his left maladi down towards Kelanus's throat...
***
After escorting Larna home, Grayar projected back to Marka. He returned to Coronation Hall just as the procession left the building. He rolled the focus around the palm of his hand. Time to do to the foci what Sandev should have done as she discovered them.
Leaving the building, he sighed as he saw the rear of the entourage headed for the trial by combat. A familiar blue-skinned figure slipped the other way. He hurried to catch up.
"Belaika."
The scout looked over his shoulder and recognized Grayar. He slowed his step so the shorter human could catch up without rushing.
"Discover anything?" asked Grayar.
The sylph stopped. His earpoints shot bolt upright and his eyes widened. "Sandev-ya did not pass on my message?"
"No."
Belaika's mouth moved soundlessly for a few moments. "Salter's Lane, villa with three stories, only one with eight windows at the front and no gargoyles for water drains. Found it, came to see you, but you were gone, so told Sandev. Thought she would tell you."
"It's all right; I know you did your duty." The scout was clearly out of countenance, coming this close to babbling. "You've done no wrong. Go in peace with my thanks."
Grayar did not wait to hear the sylph's reply, but hurried through the streets to pause outside Sandev's house. Disquiet ailed him. He hoped she was home.
Caya opened the door almost before he stopped knocking and her earpoints wilted when she saw him.
"Sorry to disappoint you," grunted Grayar, a little annoyed by the sylph's reaction. "Can I come in?"
The tall sylph nodded, but she seemed distracted. Her eyes focused on Grayar abruptly. "Anya has not returned," she said.
Hearing her owner's voice, Salu shot into the hallway and flung herself at him. He hugged her absently.
"Where did she go?" demanded Grayar.
"She went out last night and has not come back. I do not know where."
"Caya has been worried ever since," whispered Salu.
"Something has happened to her, I know it!" The female sylph wiped angrily at her eyes.
"All right, don't take on. Where are Stanak and Janin?" Grayar led the sylphs to the main living room and sat Caya on one of the stools. He motioned for Salu to stay close to her.
"In the study," replied Salu.
"Something has happened to her," repeated Caya.
"Let me speak with Stanak," said Grayar.
His thoughts turned over quickly. Sandev had no reason to stay out, unless she had acted on Belaika's information. That would not surprise him.
"Stay with her," he told his own sylph. He went through to the study.
Stanak rose to his feet. "I'm glad to see you," he said.
Janin, still in scouting paint, nodded agreement.
"Do you know if Sandev went after Nicolfer?" asked Grayar.
"Probably. I was helping with the city's defense."
"I suspect she's fallen into a trap."
The other human's gray-blue eyes narrowed in sudden concentration. "If you're going to look for her, I'll come with you."
"And me," added Janin, despite looking exhausted.
"You'r
The sylph's earpoints wilted.
"Caya is understandably upset," said Grayar. "Salu will help, but she's only an infertile. It's very important to have someone here she knows, someone to look after her. Janin?"
The scout looked unimpressed and said no more.
"Enya, where are you going?" Salu stood in the doorway.
Grayar gave his sylph a faint smile. "To get Sandev back," he said. "It seems we're not going home just yet."
Salu did not return the smile. "Nothing goes quite as you plan," she grumbled.
Grayar turned to Stanak. "You don't possess the Gift, but your sword may be useful. I'm told that Nicolfer is – or was – at a villa in Salter's Lane."
"We'd best get moving then."
***
Kelanus parried again and again. Blood stained his shirt in several places. He had no idea how he'd managed to survive for so long, given that agony lanced through his right arm every time he used the maladi. His left arm felt little better. Thankfully, Ranallic's arms were in a similar state and the shorter outlander had slowed as badly as his opponent.
Kelanus had long forgotten the near miss after his enemy had tripped him and nearly ended the duel. It seemed as though many hours had passed, though it could not be more than fifteen minutes since the fight began. Fifteen minutes, when most sword fights were over in a couple of strokes.
His mind coldly calculated Ranallic's potential moves and worked out ways to counter them. And to attack. He weakened, but so too did the outlander, even if the maladi were more deftly employed in his opponent's hands. As if from a great distance, he heard Neptarik shout.
"Hegra cloc vutratanut, Kelanus-ya! Zhenya!"
Kelanus almost laughed. Any sylph, no matter how respectful, urging him, commanding him to get his act together (though what Neptarik actually said was much coarser than this), trod dangerous ground. But why did he call to the Father?
Something deep inside stirred.
Ranallic detected it and his eyes widened.
The pain left Kelanus and tiredness drained away. The gathered crowd may as well not have existed. Man and maladi were as one. Everything else moved as if time had somehow slowed and, like Sallis ti Ath, Kelanus could now move within it more quickly...