Aakuta: the Dark Mage (24 page)

“Gunta, Mistake,” smiled Lord Marak, “I would like you to meet Emperor Bagora.”

Gunta promptly bowed, but Mistake appeared confused.

“You are not imprisoned any more?” asked Mistake.

“He certainly is not,” smiled the Emperor. “I asked him to summon you so that he might prove a point to me. Shouldn’t Gunta return to his quarters?” the Emperor quietly asked Lord Marak.

“There is no need for that,” answered Lord Marak as he realized that the Emperor was concerned about revealing the existence of Angragar to a mere soldier. “Gunta goes everywhere with me. He has been there, too.”

“Very well,” nodded the Emperor. “If you will take Gunta with you and walk to the far end of the room, I will spend some time alone with this young Fakaran.”

Lord Marak and Gunta walked the length of the room to where the reading chair was, while Mistake sat at the desk across from the Emperor.

“What happened?” Gunta asked. “The last we heard you were imprisoned.”

“I believe it was the mage called Aakuta,” whispered Lord Marak. “He blasted a whole clear through the wall of the prison. They had no place to keep me so the marshal brought me to the Emperor. I think he expected a quick decision of execution, but that is not how things went.”

“Obviously,” replied Gunta. “Are you still in trouble?”

“Not at all,” smiled Lord Marak. “Bringing me here gave me the chance to explain my side of things. It took a while, but the Emperor and the marshal now know that I was not the assassin. I like Bagora. He is an honest and decent man. I wish all of the lords were like him.”

“I was not sure the message to get Mistake was really from you,” stated Gunta. “We were ready for trouble when we entered here. You cannot imagine the relief I feel knowing that you are safe.”

“I do think Kaltara is watching over me,” smiled Lord Marak.

“The Chula god?” questioned Gunta.

“Our god,” corrected Lord Marak. “He is known to the Chula, the Sakovans, and the Qubari. I do not think those three peoples can be wrong in their beliefs. Have you had any luck in locating the real assassin?”

“None,” frowned Gunta. “Torak soldiers are watched wherever we go. None of the other clans will even talk to us. If we walk into a room, everyone else walks out. It is as if we are contagious.”

“So everybody still assumes that I was the assassin?” inquired the Torak lord.

“There has been no announcement to the contrary,” shrugged Gunta. “Perhaps you could talk the Emperor into setting the record straight.”

Lord Marak heard laughing from the other end of the room. He looked up and saw the Emperor waving for him to return. He touched Gunta on the elbow and returned to the Emperor’s desk.

“Her drawing is much better than yours, Lord Marak,” chuckled the Emperor.

“Angragar?” gasped Gunta. “Why are you drawing that?”

“You have proved your words, Lord Marak,” declared the Emperor. “I want to have more talks with you on this subject and others, but today is not the time for it. Have you considered buying a house here in Khadoratung?”

“I have never given it thought,” confessed the Torak lord.

“Do so,” suggested the Emperor. “If you want to change this country, you must be accessible to the Imperial Valley. In the meantime, your quarters here in the Imperial Palace will be available to you. I will see that the Torak clan is moved to better quarters after the assembly is over. You should not travel with just a squad for protection.”

“I appreciate that, Emperor Bagora,” smiled Lord Marak. “If there is nothing else at this time, I would like to let my people know that I am safe.”

“Of course, of course,” nodded the Emperor. “I should have done so long ago.”

“I have one more question,” chirped Mistake. “Do you know an Omungan general named Didyk?”

“Omungan?” frowned the Emperor. “I have heard his name mentioned in reports, but I have never met him. I could not imagine an Omungan general coming here, and I have never been south of the Kalatung Mountains. Why do you ask?”

“I heard he was in Khadoratung,” answered Mistake. “I thought maybe he was visiting you.”

“He is not,” declared the Emperor as he rang the bell.

The door opened and a soldier entered the room. He held the door for the leaving guests. As Lord Marak left the room, he heard the Emperor asking for his legal scholar.

A loud knock on the door of the Torak quarters in the Imperial Palace echoed through the small suite. Botal opened the door to see Marshal Chack and several Imperial soldiers laden with weapons.

“We are delivering your weapons,” the marshal declared. “The tainted star will not be returned.”

Botal opened the door wider to let the soldiers in. They deposited the weapons on the table and left. Marshal Chack lingered and Lord Marak walked up to him.

“I apologize for my earlier actions, Lord Marak,” stated the marshal.

“No apology is necessary, Marshal,” replied Lord Marak. “You were performing your duties as you thought best.”

“While that is true,” Chack frowned, “there has been no announcement of your guilt or innocence, nor will there be. We never make such statements. I am afraid that most of the other lords will still act as if you are the assassin.”

“Can’t you make a statement so that Lord Marak is not ostracized?” asked Botal.

“No,” the marshal shook his head. “Until we find the assassin, we will not rule anyone out. I am convinced that you are not the assassin that we seek, Lord Marak, but if I made a statement that you were not a suspect, every other lord would demand a similar statement. It is just something that I cannot do.”

“I understand, Marshal Chack,” smiled Lord Marak. “I will learn to deal with the suspicions of the other lords. Thank you for taking the time to explain it to me.”

The marshal smiled weakly and nodded before leaving the suite.

“That is not right,” protested Mistake. “Word sure spread rapidly enough when you were thrown into the cell.”

“I will deal with it,” Lord Marak snapped before sighing and shaking his head with regret. “We must not be at each other’s throats over this matter. While there will be no formal statement from the marshal, I will still be walking around freely. No objective person would believe that the marshal is letting an assassin walk freely.”

“But they will still treat you as a pariah,” Gunta pointed out.

“They did before this incident,” shrugged Lord Marak. “Nothing has changed. Do you need an escort to leave the palace, Mistake?”

“No,” beamed the small thief as she pointed to a white pin on her clothes that identified her as an Imperial guest. “The marshal gave me this pin to wear. I can go anywhere I want in the palace now.”

“They will take that from you when you leave,” declared Gunta. “It was only meant to allow you to visit the Emperor.”

“No!” scowled Mistake. “It is my treasure.”

“But it would allow you to reenter the palace,” shrugged Latril. “You will have to give it up.”

“Never,” Mistake said adamantly.

Lord Marak opened his pack and extracted a Torak pin that identified the wearer as a staff member of the Torak clan. He handed the pin to Mistake.

“Wear the Torak pin when you leave,” he instructed, “and use the Imperial pin when you enter. Never use the same door for both entry and exit.”

“Thank you,” beamed Mistake as she switched pins. “I will return to the inn and see what the people outside the palace are saying. I want to tell StarWind that the Emperor is unaware of the Omungan general being in Khadora.”

Marak smiled broadly as the diminutive Fakaran slipped out the door. “Latril,” he said turning to his mage, “let’s see how icy the reception is in the dining room. Botal, I want a man in this room at all times.”

The Torak squad leader nodded as Lord Marak and Latril exited the room. The Torak lord led the way to the dining room. Lord Marak felt as if he was being watched. With what appeared to be a casual look at Latril, he noticed an Imperial soldier following him. He looked again as he ushered Latril into the dining room, and the soldier was caught unprepared. The soldier dropped his eyes to the floor and continued walking past the dining room.

When Lord Marak and Latril entered the dining room, the conversation immediately died. Everyone turned and glared at Lord Marak. The young lord sighed deeply and escorted Latril to the only empty table, one designed to seat six. After they sat down, light murmurs of conversation started up again. Lord Marak did not need an air tunnel to know that everyone was discussing him. The ugly glares spoke volumes about how Lord Marak was to be treated. As he looked about the room, he saw the Imperial soldier, who had been following him, slip into the dining room and stand with his back to the wall.

In the far corner of the room, Lord Sevrin sat with several lords from the upper reaches of the Macara River. The Ragatha lord sighed with frustration as he listened to the vile comments his companions were making about Lord Marak. Finally, he stood up.

“You act as if Lord Marak is the most vile enemy in all of Khadora,” Lord Sevrin said loudly to the men at his table.

Everyone in the room turned to listen and see what was happening.

“I have news for you high and mighty lords,” steamed Lord Sevrin. “Lord Marak took one of my estates because the man that I chose as lord of that estate was a fool. He attacked Lord Marak without provocation and paid with his life. You might think that such a situation gives me the right to hate the Torak lord, and maybe it does, but I do not. Lord Marak was in the right, and I conceded Woodville to him. As I came to know Lord Marak, I found a Khadoran lord that puts the rest of you to shame. He is a man of impeccable honor and a compassionate conqueror. It is obvious from his state of freedom that he is not responsible for the death of Lord Woton, and yet you all act as if he is. When the rest of you are ready to measure up to the high standards that Lord Marak has set for honor among lords, I will once again sit at your table.”

Lord Sevrin turned and marched to Lord Marak’s table and sat down. A hundred conversations immediate split the air of the room. Lord Sevrin had been a member of the Assembly of Lords for over twenty years, and he was known personally by most of the lords in the room. Before the conversation had a chance to die down, Lord Rybak rose from his seat in the center of the room.

“I must say that I agree with Lord Sevrin,” announced Lord Rybak. “As a Situ, my clan has also been bested by Lord Marak in battle. While I am new here in the Assembly of Lords, I cannot remain silent while many of you disparage his name. I will just leave you with a question and an offer. Ask yourselves why a clan that had been defeated by Lord Marak would speak so highly of him. Answer that question, and you will be vying to sit at his table. As to the offer, I will follow Lord Marak’s offer of a discount to clans that relinquish slavery as the Situ clan has.”

Lord Rybak walked to Lord Marak’s table and sat down. The noise level in the room grew so high that it was impossible for some to listen to the people at their own tables. Lord Shamino and Lord Burdine rose and also relocated to Lord Marak’s table. Lord Marak looked at his lords and shook his head as he smiled.

“You have cast your lot quite early in this war,” Lord Marak stated. “I wonder if it would not have been better for them to think of us as adversaries for a while longer?”

“You do not have a while to think about it, Lord Marak,” answered Lord Burdine. “You were an outcast coming into this room. If we did not act now, your reforms would be dead. By us showing our support for you now, the other clans must come to grips with the fact that you are not an outcast. You are no longer imprisoned, and all of your neighbors are willing to make a defiant stand in your favor. That will cause all of the other lords to reconsider their attitudes towards you, even the ones who are your enemies.”

“He is right,” nodded Lord Sevrin. “We would gain nothing by remaining silent because if this shunning was allowed to stand, you would never be able to propose anything that we could get behind you on. You would never be allowed to speak. Now is the time for us to state our allegiance. It is a rare sight in Khadora to see all of a lord’s neighbors openly defy common sentiment and take a stand in favor of that lord.”

“I thank all of you for doing so,” smiled Lord Marak as he noticed the same Imperial soldier suddenly leave the dining room. “Nothing in your Vows of Service required this gesture.”

“You mean more to us than our Vows of Service,” declared Lord Rybak. “That is not the reason we spoke. We believe in what you are trying to do for Khadora. The others will eventually understand.”

“Even if you have to defeat them one by one,” grinned Lord Burdine.

The dining room eventually quieted down and returned to normal. While none of the other lords approached Lord Marak and spoke to him, several did nod to the Torak Lord as they left the room. After everyone had left, Lord Marak and Latril returned to the Torak quarters.

* * *

Lord Marak had wanted to go to the garden and make contact with Fardale before the morning session of the Assembly of Lords, but a storm had blown in overnight and the weather outside was foul. He paced the room with the nervousness of a caged animal. His mind processed thoughts in an erratic fashion, but one concern kept on reoccurring. He wondered about the Imperial soldier that was ordered to spy on him. He knew that either the Emperor or the marshal had ordered the man to spy on him, but he could not determine why. Did either of them continue to consider Marak as a suspect in the assassination? If the soldier was meant merely as a safety precaution, then why did he leave the dining room to report what had transpired there?

“Stop the pacing,” chided Halman. “You will wear a hole in the floor.”

“Would that be so bad?” quipped Lord Marak. “Were it a big enough hole, I could crawl into it, and everyone would be pleased.”

“What will happen,” retorted Gunta, “will happen. Remember what you spoke of in the Emperor’s office? Perhaps you should let your mind dwell on those types of questions rather than how much the other lords like you.”