“If you had not started training mages when you were lord of Fardale,” added Lord Kiamesh, “none of this would even be possible now. Be thankful that we are as prepared as we are.”
“What about the military training, Lord Jamarat?” asked the Torak.
“We are doing well,” answered the Neju lord. “The last several rotations of trainees have been fantastic in attitude. I think those that we trained earlier returned to their homes and bragged to their fellow soldiers about the training. All of the trainees these days are eager to learn. It is going much faster now.”
“Good,” Marak smiled at Lord Jamarat.
Marak was especially pleased with how the Neju lord had taken on the responsibility for the training. Most lords of Khadora had looked upon Jamarat as a simpleton. They no longer dismissed him as they used to. As a trainer, Lord Jamarat was among the best. His simple methods had enabled him to explain everything in ways that every man could understand.
“How are we to interact with the Fakarans and the Sakovans?” asked Lord Chenowith. “That is not something that we have discussed at length.”
“An excellent question,” replied the Emperor. “And we should not forget the elves in our planning. I received a message from Mistake, err, Princess Alahara. The elves have resolved their differences and wish to talk about their contribution to the war effort. They proposed coming to Angragar to discuss it, but I have requested permission to travel to Elvangar.”
“Will they allow it?” asked Lord Patel. “I thought their greatest fear was that humans would go to Elvangar.”
“That is one of their fears,” nodded Marak. “It is also one of the reasons that I want to go. We could host an elven delegation in Angragar and map out the best way for the elves to help us, but that would only involve a handful of elves. I want all of the elves to see a human and realize that we hold nothing but friendship towards them. I think it is important to make sure that the elven people stand firmly in support of this war. Once the elves commit to come to our aid, we cannot afford for them to back out. That would be disastrous.”
“Have they responded?” asked Lord Patel.
“Not as of yet,” Marak shook his head. “I am sure there will be much discussion before they answer my request, and there should be. I am content to let them work out their domestic problems among themselves.”
“What about the Fakarans and the Sakovans?” pressed Lord Chenowith. “Their involvement is already certain. How will we coordinate with them?”
“That question has not been answered yet,” frowned the Emperor. “In fact, I want this council involved in that debate. I mentioned before that I was bringing some special visitors to Khadoratung tonight. The Star of Sakova and the Astor are among them. It is time for you to meet them. There is a subject that I have not broached with you yet. It is the vital question of what happens if I die before this war is over.”
“What does that question have to do with the visitors?” asked Lord Chenowith.
“A great deal actually,” answered Emperor Marak. “While it will fall to this Lords’ Council to select a new emperor, it will be either the Star of Sakova or the Astor that you will need to follow for the duration of the war.”
“I do not understand,” frowned Lord Jamarat. “Neither of them are Khadoran.”
“That is correct,” agreed Emperor Marak, “but they have both been chosen by Kaltara to wage this war. It will be hard for this council to do what is right in the event of my demise, because it will require you to subject the Khadoran nation to foreigners. What you do after the war is a matter for you to decide, but until the war is ended, you must follow the path of Kaltara. That means bending to the will of the Star and the Astor.”
“What if they don’t agree?” asked Lord Jamarat. “This is confusing.”
“They will agree,” declared the Torak. “They are following Kaltara’s will. They cannot disagree.”
“You do realize what you are asking?” questioned Lord Chenowith.
“I do,” nodded the Emperor. “I said that it would not be easy. Your own countrymen will call you traitors for your actions, but that is how it must be if you desire to save the Khadoran people.”
“I do not see a problem as long as we can trust the Star and the Astor,” interjected Lord Patel.
“How is that?” asked Lord Quilo. “You don’t see a problem with giving up our sovereignty?”
“Not really,” shrugged Lord Patel. “If a pact is made among the members of this body, the rest of Khadora need not know that the Star and the Astor are leading us. One of us will rise to Emperor and do what is necessary.”
“I can live with that,” nodded Lord Chenowith, “providing we have confidence in those chosen by Kaltara. I look forward to meeting them.”
“If one of us is to rise to replace Emperor Marak,” declared Lord Faliman of the Aritor clan, “shouldn’t we decide that now? Informally, of course. It would forestall any bickering in a time of war.”
“I think asking the Emperor for his preference would be in order,” nodded Lord Kiamesh. “I am willing to agree to his choice.”
The other lords quickly agreed and called for the Emperor to specify his replacement.
“My first thought is one of hesitancy,” admitted Marak. “Each and every one of you is qualified to be Emperor, and each and every one of you has supported me fully. My second thought is that it might be a good idea. Nothing can get in the way of friendship more than the thirst for power, and friendship is what I see in the members of this council. You lords have progressed greatly since I have known you. I am proud to call each of you my friend. My choice is a difficult one, but one that I think you will agree with. In honor of his father, one of the greatest emperors ever to lead Khadora, I would select Lord Chenowith.”
The others lords cheered in agreement and Lord Chenowith rose and offered a humorous bow.
“In all seriousness,” Lord Chenowith said “I am touched not only by your faith in me, Emperor Marak, but even more by the acceptance of my fellow lords gathered here today. Now that we have your wisdom to guide us upon your death, let’s not discuss the expiration of your office again. You have too much work to do to be allowed to die.”
The other lords laughed heartily, and Marak joined in, shaking his head and smiling.
“I truly meant my words,” Marak said seriously after the laughter died down. “Any one of you is capable of leading Khadora, and the sad fact is, it might be that none of us survive the coming war. Always look out for and take care of one another, for it is this friendship that will save Khadora. Working together we have accomplished in a short time what others said was impossible. Let’s keep doing it.”
“Speaking of what we have accomplished,” frowned Lord Patel, “what are we going to do about the remaining boundary disputes?”
“That is a serious problem,” answered Emperor Marak. “There is a quiet revolt taking place among the lords. It is a revolt against the new reforms, but I think it centers on the boundaries that are still unresolved.”
“A revolt?” asked Lord Quilo. “Do you mean armed resistance?”
“No,” clarified Marak. “At the Assembly of Lords tomorrow some lords intend to rouse support for a motion to abolish the reforms.”
“They seek to overrule the Emperor and the Lords’ Council?” gasped Lord Kiamesh. “That is unheard of.”
“Actually,” replied the Torak, “it is not unheard of, merely rare. There is an ancient law on the books that allows the Assembly of Lords to recall a member of the Lords’ Council. With sufficient votes, the Assembly of Lords could recall every member of the Lords’ Council and install new members. There is even a mechanism for recalling the Emperor, although it must be shown that the current Emperor is working against the welfare of the country.”
“And if the Assembly of Lords decides what is good for the welfare of the country,” Lord Chenowith continued the logic, “they could remove you from power.”
“Exac
tly,” nodded Marak. “Now, I do not take this as a serious threat, because I do not believe that the rebels hold sway over sufficient votes to cause any of this to happen, but the dissension removes the cohesion that we have worked so hard at building.”
“Who are these rebel lords?” asked Lord Quilo.
“Here is what I believe to be a factual accounting of what is to happen tomorrow,” explained Emperor Marak. “The four clans that hosted the Jiadin will present the motion to recall one of you. When the motion is made, other clans will immediately back it, hoping for an upwelling of support from lords that have been cultivated by the real rebels.”
“The real rebels?” prompted Lord Faliman. “Who are they?”
“Three southern frontier clans,” answered Emperor Marak. “The Seth, Rican, and Disina clans are behind the motion. It is no coincidence that each of these clans has an unresolved border dispute concerning the Chula.”
“What can we do about it?” asked Lord Patel. “I understand that they will not get the votes necessary, but it introduces the thought that not all reforms must be implemented. Once that is made clear, we will have a much harder time driving Khadora to where it needs to be.”
“You are correct,” nodded the Emperor. “I think I can deal effectively with the real rebels, but the hard part is stopping the motion from even being brought up in the first place.”
“So you are looking for something to get the four hosts of the Jiadin to falter before making the motion?” asked Lord Kiamesh.
“Yes,” nodded Marak.
“I can think of a way,” groused Lord Quilo. “How about I get each of those traitorous dogs in a room alone and tell them to keep their mouths shut?”
Several of the lords laughed, but Lord Chenowith rose to ask for silence.
“There is merit to your suggestion, Lord Quilo,” Lord Chenowith said seriously. “I do not mean physical abuse, but three of those clans are holding large amounts of land taken from other estates. The Vessi, Glamaraldi, and Lejune clans each seized several estates using their Jiadin mercenaries. This council could revoke those gains under the law.”
“But there was no protest at the time,” frowned Lord Patel. “On what basis could we deny them their holdings?”
“On the basis that their clans were a minority interest in the attacking force,” grinned Emperor Marak. “You are a genius, Lord Chenowith. Of course that would require the Jiadin to express a claim to the spoils, but I think I could arrange for them to do that.”
“But the Jiadin are not even Khadoran,” Lord Faliman shook his head. “How can they have a claim?”
“The Lords’ Council reserves the right to create new clans,” explained Lord Patel. “All we would need are three Jiadin men to step forward, request a new clan, and make a claim for the spoils.”
“I could arrange for that to happen,” declared Emperor Marak. “I am not suggesting that we do so, but it makes an excellent bargaining point for negotiations with the three clans.”
“And the fourth traitorous clan?” asked Lord Faliman. “That was the Pikata, wasn’t it? Lord Damirath, if I remember correctly.”
“It was the Pikata,” nodded Emperor Marak, “but it was not really Lord Damirath. It was a magician named Zygor who had stolen Lord Damirath’s body.”
“Then the Pikata clan was not under orders of its rightful lord,” Lord Kiamesh pointed out. “In reality, the ownership of the Pikata clan passed to Zygor when he assumed command.”
“But the Pikata did not gain any estates in the fighting,” shrugged the Emperor. “We can not bargain with them in the same way as the others.”
“Who rules the Pikata now?” asked Lord Jamarat.
“Lord Damirath’s son, Rymaka,” answered Lord Quilo. “The boy is unfit to lead a clan. While Lord Damirath was fair and just, Rymaka is cruel and unbalanced. If ever there was a clan ruler that this council should revoke, Rymaka is the one. He tortures his servants as he used to torture animals when he was younger. He is a poor excuse for a human being.”
“Does he do this while he is in Khadoratung?” asked Emperor Marak.
“He does it everywhere,” Lord Quilo nodded with distaste. “If the boy was a wasooki, he would have been put down years ago.”
“Who is next in line to rule the Pikata?” asked the Emperor.
“No one,” answered Lord Quilo. “Rymaka is the end of the line.”
“Is there anyone in the Pikata clan who could lead those people justly?” asked Marak.
“There are many good people in the Pikata clan,” nodded Lord Quilo. “That is what makes Rymaka even more unbearable. If you were looking for someone to lead the Pikata, the bursar would be an excellent choice. His name is Wicado.”
“I will not stand for torturing servants in this palace,” declared Emperor Marak. “There are clear prohibitions against that as well as other abuses. If Rymaka violates that rule, I will have him arrested. It will be up to this council to take action concerning his fitness as a lord.”
“You will not catch him,” shrugged Lord Quilo. “He will do so in the privacy of his clan quarters.”
“I will catch him,” vowed Emperor Marak.
“Then we will act upon it,” promised Lord Chenowith. “I propose that we have early morning meetings with the other three eastern lords. They will forego making that motion tomorrow, or they will forego a great deal of land. We will make that clear to them.”
“What about the three southern rebels?” asked Lord Jamarat. “How will you stop them?”
“I have a treat in store for them,” grinned Emperor Marak. “In fact, I think they may start a new trend in Khadora.”
“A new trend?” echoed Lord Kiamesh with a puzzled brow. “What kind of trend?”
“The kind of trend that makes Khadoran lords speak honestly about their borders,” answered the Emperor. “I will explain it later tonight. Now it is time for a meal break. I am famished. After we eat, I want you to meet those special visitors that I spoke about earlier. Let’s reconvene in about an hour. We shall meet at the Temple of Kaltara.”
* * *
Lady Mystic strolled the beach, her eyes alternating between the sea and sand in front of her feet. She stopped and turned to face the surf. Her gaze followed the swells to the horizon as she wondered what Aakuta’s land was like. She wished she had spent more time with him discussing Omunga and what it was like to have lived there. The only information she had ever heard were the reports from Clarvoy, which meant that she had heard little.
Lady Mystic sighed and continued walking. She still thought of Aakuta all of the time, but at least she now had times when she did more than just cry all day. She stopped again and stared into the surf. She was so tempted to just walk into the ocean and allow it to swallow her up, but she knew that she did not have the courage to do so. She pressed her lips tightly together to halt the start of the tears as she turned and continued walking along the beach.
She started once again to berate herself for her mistakes when she rounded the bend and saw a basket sitting on the sand. She frowned as she recognized the spot where she spent most of her waking hours. Cautiously, she walked closer to the basket and peered at it. Her head turned as she looked up and down the beach for the basket’s owner, but no one was visible.
Curiosity got the better of Vand’s daughter as she bent over and slowly opened the basket. She stared at the bounty of food and realized that she was famished. She had not eaten all day. Once again she scanned the beach for the basket’s owner. There was no one in sight.
Lady Mystic reached into the basket and snared a large orange. As she picked it up, a small note moved. She bent closer to read it.
“And an extra cloth to dry your tears,” Lady Mystic read from the note.
She frowned as she turned the note over for a hint of whom it was from. The back was blank. The mention of tears seemed to indicate that the basket had been left for her, but she could not imagine who would leave it. She thought immediately
of Xavo, but she quickly dismissed the thought. While he was pleasant the other day, that was because he wanted something. This gesture was not Xavo’s style.
Lady Mystic lowered herself to the sand and began to eat the food in the basket. She enjoyed herself thoroughly as it all tasted exceptionally good. She realized that the taste sensation was due to her starvation, but she relished every bite just the same.
“Funny how things always seem better when you have been without them for a time,” she mused to herself.
She wondered if that was why she missed Aakuta so much. Would she truly love him if he were here now? A smile came involuntarily to her lips as she nodded her head in answer to the question. Just as quickly, the tears started rolling down her cheeks. Aakuta would not magically appear like the basket did, she realized. She rose to her feet, lifting the basket with her. Refusing to abandon the basket on the beach, Lady Mystic decided to venture to her home. She had not been there since the day her laboratory was destroyed.
She walked along the narrow path through the jungle, oblivious to the birds and animals that scurried away from her. She emerged from the jungle and headed into the alleyway. As she neared the door to her home, an anxious feeling began to creep over her. She wiped the tears from her eyes and saw something colorful by her door. She could not tell what it was.
When Lady Mystic got closer to her door, she halted and stared at the ground in wonder. At the foot of her door was a large bouquet of flowers in a very expensive vase. She looked up and down the alleyway in confusion. There was no one in sight. She reasoned that the vase could not have been there for long, or someone would have stolen it.
She bent down and picked up the vase. She smelled the flowers and smiled. There was no note indicating the sender, or even if the flowers were meant for her, but she knew that they were. There were no other doors in the vicinity. She shook her head as she tried to figure out who was responsible for the gifts, but she could not. She thought briefly about her father and a possible attempt to make up with her, but she cursed at the idea almost as soon as it was formed. Vand would never apologize to anyone, and she didn’t want his apology even if he offered it.
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