“Those doors lead to the Assembly Chamber,” announced the Imperial soldier as he pointed to the far wall, which had large red doors evenly spaced along the length of it. “Your seat in the Assembly Chamber will be at the leftmost side of the room at the rear. I will make sure that it is properly marked before the day is done. The first formal meeting will be in the morning tomorrow.”
“Show me my seat now,” requested Lord Marak. “That way if you fail to mark it, I shall know where I am to sit.”
The Imperial soldier halted suddenly and turned to gaze at Lord Marak. His brow creased as he tried to figure out if he had just been slighted.
“I know the Imperial troops must be extremely busy with all of the clans coming together,” smiled Lord Marak. “After our wait outside the palace, I would prefer to know where I should go in the morning.”
“I understand,” smiled the soldier. “The other lords do tend to give new attendees a rough time. Follow me.”
The soldier led the way across the colorful floor and stopped at the last red door. He opened the door and held it.
“I cannot enter the room and leave your men out here with their weapons,” shrugged the soldier. “You will be seated next to the Sorgan lord, Lord Quavry. The seat will have your name engraved upon it before the day is out.”
Lord Marak’s eyes scanned the massive room. Hundreds of rich red leather chairs were set in rows facing a wide stage. Each chair had a small desk before it, and a small table beside it.
“Very well,” nodded Lord Marak, “but you should have your people change the name on the Sorgan chair as well. Lord Quavry is dead. The Sorgan clan is now led by Lord Shamino.”
“Oh?” questioned the Imperial soldier as Lord Marak eased out of the chamber and rejoined the group. “I had not heard. I will notify the proper authorities after I escort you to your quarters.”
The escort led the group away from the Assembly Chamber and turned down a wide corridor. Lord Marak saw doors on both sides of the corridor, and each door had a gold plaque with the clan name engraved upon it. The doors close to the foyer were spread very far apart, but as they progressed along the hallway, he noticed less space between doors. The quarters were getting smaller as they progressed along the corridor.
When the end of the long corridor was in sight, the escort stopped and opened a door with no name on the plaque. He stood aside and let the Toraks enter the suite. The door entered into a large communal room with a fireplace for cooking. There were doors off to each side of the room, and the escort squeezed by the Torak troops and stepped alongside Lord Marak.
“On the left is a barracks room,” informed the escort. “There are enough bunks in there for a squad plus a few extras. On the right is the lord’s suite. It has a small study and a bedroom. You can use the fireplace for cooking, but the palace has several kitchens available. Meals are served three times a day. There is a kitchen below us for your troops. There is one on this floor for lords and their immediate family or staff. No soldiers are allowed in it. The other kitchens are for the Lords’ Council and the Emperor. You are not permitted into those unless you are invited.”
“Thank you for the information,” nodded Lord Marak. “I may have more questions later. What is your name, soldier?”
“I am called Chard,” replied the escort. “I have welcoming duty today, but I will be part of the security detail after everyone arrives. I will be available if you have questions, but any soldier of the Imperial force will help guide you. The Imperial soldiers do not take part in any clan disputes, Lord Marak. We are separate from all clans and serve the Emperor. Your reception was not meant to belittle you. We were merely uninformed that you would be attending the Assembly of Lords.”
“Somebody must have made a mistake,” shrugged Lord Marak. “The Torak clan was recognized by the Lords’ Council a long time ago.”
“Indeed it was,” agreed Chard, “and we are trained to recognize clans by their colors, but we have never seen the black and silver before. I am not sure why your quarters and assembly chair have not been marked.”
“Just unfortunate, I guess,” smiled Lord Marak.
“Yes,” nodded Chard. “You can be assured that all of the Imperial troops will be informed before this day is out. There will be no more embarrassing moments caused by Imperial troops.”
“Thank you, Chard,” Lord Marak said. “You have been most helpful. Are we free to roam the palace?”
“Pretty much,” answered Chard. “If there are areas where you are not permitted, you will be notified. You must stress upon your people that weapons of any kind are not allowed out of this suite. If one of your men is armed, Imperial troops will try to detain the offender, but they are authorized to kill if need be. This directive includes the lords as well. In this regard, lords are no different than their soldiers.”
“What if I want to send a messenger out of the palace?” asked Lord Marak.
“He either leaves the palace unarmed,” replied Chard, “or you arrange an Imperial escort for him. Contact any Imperial soldier and say that you need an escort. Your request will be acted on immediately.”
“Very well,” nodded Lord Marak.
Chard started to leave and halted abruptly. “There are only three keys to this suite,” he advised. “Two of them hang on the back of the door here. The Imperial staff keeps the third. Do not lose your keys or there will a problem with housing your men until the lock is refitted.”
Lord Marak nodded and Chard left the suite. Lord Marak strode immediately to the lord’s suite. Latril followed him closely. The study was small but adequate. They passed through the study to the bedroom. One large bed occupied one wall, and a long dresser took up most of the opposite wall.
“No windows,” frowned Latril. “How are we to communicate with Fardale?”
“We will think of something,” mused Lord Marak. “You will sleep in here, Latril. I will bunk with the soldiers. Let me get rid of my weapons and we will take a stroll around the palace.”
Lord Marak removed his sheath and placed it on the desk in the study. He felt his broad waist belt and frowned at the touch of the Sakovan stars secreted in it. Although he felt naked without the stars, he removed them from their hidden place and placed them on the desk. Next, he removed two knives from his arm sheaths, and two more from his boots. He sighed as he stepped back into the communal room.
“Do not disgrace us by being caught with weapons,” Lord Marak warned his soldiers. “Make sure that even your hidden weapons remain here. Halman, Gunta, come with me. Latril and I are going for a walk to see if we can find a good place for an air tunnel. Botal, I want this palace mapped. Send the men out in groups of two. Do not make it obvious what you are doing. No paper or notes until you return here. Pay special attention to areas that are restricted, and look for any open air areas like balconies.”
“What about guarding the suite?” asked Botal.
“You take one of the keys, and I will take the other,” replied Lord Marak. “You organize your men and arrange for them to get back in. I will handle my party. I doubt anyone is going to break in to steal our clothes and weapons.”
Botal nodded as he handed one of the keys to Lord Marak. Halman opened the door and Gunta glided through it before Lord Marak and Latril. Lord Marak checked the corridor in both directions before turning towards the rear of the palace.
* * *
StarWind, HawkShadow, and Mistake stood at the edge of the market place in Khadoratung. Thousands of people shuffled by, making rounds of the stalls in search of bargains.
“Where do you want to begin?” asked HawkShadow.
StarWind gazed at the multitude of people moving around and shook her head. “I say we start with the inns,” she replied. “Each side of the market appears to host a row of inns. You can take one side, and I will take the other.”
“These are just the inns in the market area,” complained HawkShadow. “I saw more inns along the riverfront. Khadoratung is a much la
rger city than even Okata. We could spend days just visiting each inn briefly. How do you expect to find General Didyk in all this mess?”
“A foreign general should be something memorable to almost anyone,” shrugged StarWind.
“True,” countered HawkShadow, “but anyone asking about him will also be memorable. That is not a healthy approach.”
“You are right,” StarWind nodded thoughtfully. “Let’s just visit the inns briefly on the chance that he is dining in one of them. Keep your ears open. Khadoratung will not be so different from Okata that people will not love to gossip. If he has been here recently, somebody will be talking about him.”
“All right,” shrugged HawkShadow. “I will meet you back here as the sun sets.”
“I will keep my ears open, too,” offered Mistake as HawkShadow and StarWind departed.
The small Fakaran grinned as she turned her attention to the market stalls. Her eyes widened as she proceeded along one of the rows and gazed at the merchandise for sale. Mistake had never been to a large city, and the market in Khadoratung appeared to be a treasure trove to her. She moved by the stalls slowly, her eyes scanned each stall as she admired the variety of goods available.
The hours passed and Mistake did not realize that she was hungry until a young boy came by with a cart loaded with food for the merchants. She looked past the last row of stalls and saw an inn. She turned at the first intersection and made her way to the Wine Press Inn. She entered the common room and sat at an empty table. The innkeeper came to her immediately, and Mistake thought she would be kicked out.
“Are you here for a meal?” asked the innkeeper.
“Yes,” Mistake hesitantly as she reached for her pouch of gold to prove that she could pay for the meal.
“Our meals are one gold,” smiled the innkeeper. “You have your choice of wasooki and bread, or clova and rice. Which would you prefer?”
“I will have the wasooki,” Mistake smiled as she realized that the innkeeper was not going to hassle her.
“I will have it sent right out,” nodded the innkeeper as he moved swiftly to another customer who had just entered.
Mistake relaxed and began to wonder what it would be like to live in such a large city. Nobody had bothered her as she browsed the market stalls, and even the innkeeper of the fine inn treated her with respect. It was a far cry from her treatment in the small villages of Fakara. She was lost in thought as two men sat across the table from her. She did not even notice their arrival until the innkeeper brought her wasooki and asked the men for their order.
She looked up and caught the two men staring at her. One of the men was young and handsome and was dressed in a uniform of brown and yellow. The other man was completely covered in black; even his head was covered by a black hood. Mistake tried to peer under the man’s hood, but he snarled at her in a barely perceptible voice. Mistake turned her attention to her meal and ignored the men.
When Mistake diverted her attention, the two men let their guard down slightly. Mistake’s ears perked up as she listened to them whisper. She kept her eyes glued to her plate as she listened to every word.
“You must find other clothes,” the dark man whispered. “These are the days of the Assembly of Lords. Lord Druck will probably attend.”
“Without a doubt,” the military man answered. “I suggest that you also change your appearance. In case you haven’t noticed, everyone stares at you when they see you.”
The hooded man grunted, and Mistake finished her meal. She started to slide down the bench to leave when the dark man’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm.
“You are not from this country, are you?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
A knife slid into Mistake’s free hand as she glared at the hooded man.
“Where I am from,” Mistake spat quietly, “it is not acceptable to grab strangers. I suggest that you remove your hand from my arm, or I shall remove it for you.”
The man must have seen the light glint off Mistake’s blade because he immediately let go of her arm.
“What are you doing?” scolded the military man in a whisper. “We do not want to be noticed.”
“I am sorry,” apologized the dark man. “I must have mistook you for someone else.”
Mistake glared at the man as she eased her knife back into its arm sheath. She walked away from the table and paid the innkeeper his one gold. He thanked her for her business as Mistake slipped out the door of the inn. Her mind was still on the encounter at the inn when she stopped in front of a small stall with expensive art objects. Her eyes automatically scanned the objects and froze when they saw a fossilized shark’s tooth.
“Don’t even think about it,” warned the merchant. “I can smell a thief long before she gets to my stall. I could put a knife through your hand before you could grab it and run.”
Mistake looked up and glared at the merchant. Suddenly, the stories that Rejji had told about his trip to Khadoratung flooded into Mistake’s mind. She grinned at the merchant.
“I heard that Wendal was a good teacher,” she grinned, “but is he really quick with a knife? I am interested in that shark’s tooth.”
“Don’t even try to touch it,” warned Wendal. “I don’t want to harm you.”
“How much is it?” Mistake asked.
“Four hundred gold as if that matters,” retorted Wendal.
Mistake untied her gold pouch and placed it on the table. “There is five hundred gold in that pouch,” she declared. “It is yours if you can stop me from taking the tooth.”
“What kind of game is this?” Wendal asked as his eyes narrowed and a knife slid into his hand.
“The tooth is mine if I get it,” smiled Mistake. “Are you a betting man, Wendal?”
“I will have your gold and your hand,” cautioned the merchant. “I am not fooling around here. I am ready for your move and will not miss. Take your gold and move along.”
Mistake’s hand shot out and grabbed the shark’s tooth. Wendal acted swiftly and jabbed the knife where the tooth had been, but Mistake’s hand was already gone.
“How did you do that?” Wendal asked with a frown of disbelief on his face. “That is not possible.”
Mistake grinned and held her arm out towards Wendal. She opened her fingers to show the tooth safely resting in her palm. Wendal grabbed for the tooth, but Mistake laughed as she moved her arm swiftly out of the way.
“Give it back,” demanded Wendal. “I did not agree to the wager. I will call the Imperial troops if you do not return it.”
“Return what?” laughed Mistake as she picked up her gold pouch and retied it.
Wendal shook his head with disbelief as he gazed down and saw the shark’s tooth exactly where it was supposed to be.
“How can you move so fast?” he asked. “Why have I never seen you around here before?”
“I have never been here before,” Mistake answered.
“But you knew my name,” Wendal said in confusion.
“Rejji told me all about you,” smiled Mistake. “He said you taught him a great deal.”
“You are Rejji’s girl?” grinned Wendal. “No wonder he was love struck. Where is he? What is he doing? How did he gain your freedom?”
“He said he was love struck?” asked Mistake.
“He didn’t say it,” shrugged Wendal, “but I can tell these things. He spent three days trying to get enough gold to buy your freedom. I wish he had bought his own freedom. He is a talented lad. I could use him.”
“He is talented,” nodded Mistake. “He is no longer a slave.”
“He isn’t?” grinned Wendal. “Is he here in the city with you?”
“No, he has returned to Fakara,” Mistake replied.
“Fakara?” spat Wendal. “He does not belong in that barren country. The lad has a knack for dealing. He needs to be in a large city like Khadoratung.”
“Perhaps he will build one in Fakara,” teased Mistake.
“Not much chance of that h
appening,” Wendal shook his head. “The last news I had of Fakara is that of warfare. I heard that one called Grulak is fighting the other tribes for the right to rule all of Fakara. It is a dangerous place. You should get word to Rejji to come here.”
“Actually,” grinned Mistake, “Rejji sent me here instead. He wants to know what we can sell to the Khadorans now that Fakara is rebuilding.”
“Fakara is rebuilding?” echoed Wendal. “Who won? Was it Grulak or the free tribes?”
“Rejji won,” declared Mistake. “Rejji is now the ruler of Fakara. Grulak is dead. The free tribes have all gathered behind Rejji.”
“You are serious,” grinned Wendal. “I can tell it in your eyes. I always knew that lad had something special. What kind of goods can he supply?”
Chapter 10
Spying
Mistake stood at the corner of the marketplace waiting for the Sakovans to arrive. HawkShadow appeared first, and Mistake watched him approach. The assassin’s gait appeared normal, but the small Fakaran could detect the wariness in him. HawkShadow’s eyes scanned the crowd around him without ever seeming to move. The natural movement of his head afforded him a wide perspective of the marketplace and the people within it. Mistake began to wonder about what the Sakovan could teach her. She was sure that HawkShadow had never been to this city before, yet he looked as if it was his home. He smiled and nodded to people who naturally returned his greeting as if they knew him.
“Any sign of StarWind?” HawkShadow asked softly as he reached the corner that Mistake was standing on.
“Not yet,” answered Mistake. “Aren’t you nervous about being in this city?”
“I do not care much for being in any city,” shrugged HawkShadow as he gazed over Mistake’s shoulder. “Here she comes now.”
Mistake started to turn around, but HawkShadow’s hand shot out and landed on her shoulder.
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