Aakuta: the Dark Mage

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “You do not need to see StarWind for her to arrive,” smiled HawkShadow. “It is better to notice things without appearing to. Just act as if we are old friends who have met by chance. We will be ignored that way.”

  Mistake nodded to HawkShadow as StarWind stepped up alongside her.

  “Nothing,” smiled StarWind as she gazed beyond HawkShadow. “Did you have any luck?”

  “Same as you,” shrugged HawkShadow. “Nobody has seen General Didyk or anyone resembling him. You would think that someone would remember him. Perhaps Khadoratung was not his destination.”

  “Oh it was,” grinned Mistake.

  HawkShadow and StarWind both glanced at the diminutive Fakaran.

  “Explain,” HawkShadow said.

  “He arrived three days ago,” reported Mistake. “He spent one night in an inn and then left, but he did not leave the city.”

  “How do you know this?” inquired StarWind.

  “I had a long conversation with one of the merchants,” answered Mistake. “He seems to know everything that goes on in Khadoratung. The general asked a lot of questions about the Lords’ Council, as if he was seeking an audience with one of its members. Wendal could not tell which lord the general was searching for.”

  “Where is this merchant Wendal?” asked HawkShadow.

  “He has gone home for the day,” shrugged Mistake. “I do not know where he lives, but his stall is in the canter of the last row of stalls. He sells expensive art objects.”

  “How does he know that the general is still in the city?” questioned StarWind.

  “His horse is still at the inn that he stayed at the first night,” replied Mistake. “Some men came to get him the second day he was here. He has not been back since.”

  “And this merchant just happens to…” StarWind began.

  “You have done well, Mistake,” interrupted HawkShadow with a broad smile. “Keep your ears open. If you hear any more, let us know.”

  “Where are you staying?” asked Mistake.

  “We haven’t decided yet,” answered HawkShadow. “I suppose one of the inns around the marketplace will do. Where are you staying?”

  “I think I will stay at the Wine Press,” answered Mistake. “They treated me well at the midday meal today.”

  “Perhaps we will stay there, too,” nodded HawkShadow. “Maybe we will see you there for the evening meal.”

  “That would be nice,” Mistake said with a slight frown.

  Mistake knew enough to understand that she was just dismissed. She smiled slightly and turned to visit the merchant stalls that were quickly closing for the day. HawkShadow took StarWind’s arm and let her away from the marketplace.

  “Why did you cut me off back there?” StarWind asked when they were alone. “Don’t you think it odd that a merchant keeps tabs on the horses of guests at the inns?”

  “Most assuredly,” declared HawkShadow. “This Wendal is more than a merchant. Of that I am sure, but Mistake does not understand that. I do not know why he confided in her, but I did not want to poison that relationship. If we put our doubts about Wendal into her mind, I am sure that he would detect her change in attitude and stop giving her information.”

  “All right,” agreed StarWind, “but I want to know more about him. Who is he working for? And why did he share information with Mistake?”

  “Very good questions,” shrugged HawkShadow. “We will take turns observing him tomorrow.”

  “If General Didyk is meeting with the Lords’ Council,” frowned StarWind, “it may mean that the truce between Omunga and Sakova will not last long.”

  “I doubt the Lords’ Council would meet with an Omungan general,” mused HawkShadow, “but he might get an audience with a member of the Lords’ Council. From what I have heard, Khadora is little different than Omunga in the way that the powerful people vie against one another.”

  “The question is what a lord of Khadora would have to gain from such a meeting,” posed StarWind. “Omunga has little to offer Khadora. There can be no leverage in dealing with Omunga that one lord could gain over another.”

  “That is what bothers me the most,” HawkShadow said pensively. “Dealing with Omunga means little to Khadorans, so the general’s worth is in what he can do for Khadora. What can he do for Khadora?”

  “He is not here to find an ally to aid Omunga in taking over Khadora,” shrugged StarWind. “Nothing would force the Khadoran clans to join together quicker than a threat of invasion from Omunga. He would find no ally here.”

  “The last thing Omunga would want is a united Khadora,” nodded HawkShadow. “That is something the Omungans fear.”

  “Which is exactly what Lord Marak is trying to do,” StarWind pointed out excitedly. “The general is here to warn the lords that Lord Marak is working against the Khadorans. Perhaps he is telling them that Lord Marak is working with the Sakovans. That way the lords will seek to eliminate the only person capable of uniting the country.”

  “There is no way that General Didyk could possibly know about our relationship with Lord Marak,” HawkShadow shook his head. “That would mean that we have a spy deep in StarCity. I cannot believe that.”

  “That is the beauty of it,” StarWind explained. “Didyk doesn’t have to know about Lord Marak and us. He can just make it up. Do you think the Khadorans would ask for proof?”

  “Then whichever lord General Didyk is meeting with, he is Lord Marak’s enemy,” nodded HawkShadow. “We must find out where the general is.”

  “Let us turn in for the night,” suggested StarWind. “Tomorrow we will keep watch on Wendal. I have a feeling that he will lead us to General Didyk.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” agreed HawkShadow. “Let’s keep Mistake out of this, though. This game could get rough before it ends, and I don’t want her hurt.”

  “You like her, don’t you?” smiled StarWind.

  “Very much so,” grinned HawkShadow. “She is much like MistyTrail. That can also be a problem. Sometimes MistyTrail has a little bit too much faith in other people. It may get her killed someday.”

  “She was right about Lyra,” StarWind pointed out. “Maybe she has better sense than you give her credit for.”

  “I hope that is true,” conceded HawkShadow. “I have grown quite fond of her.”

  A block away, a woman merchant was packing up her stall and bumped into Mistake.

  “Sorry,” said the merchant. “I didn’t see you there. Did you want something before I close?”

  Mistake sighed and dropped the air tunnel she had been using to spy on the Sakovans. She smiled at the woman and shook her head.

  “No thank you,” Mistake said pleasantly as she turned and headed for the Wine Press Inn.

  * * *

  “Time for the evening meal,” announced Lord Marak. “Let’s go sample the foods of Khadoratung.”

  “The soldiers are not allowed to eat with you,” Latril pointed out. “They must eat downstairs.”

  “Then we shall all eat downstairs,” shrugged Lord Marak. “What is the problem?”

  “While you may feel like one of the soldiers,” Latril frowned, “you are not. You are the lord of the Torak clan. You cannot win the hearts of the other lords by acting like a soldier. You must mingle with them and learn about them. Only then can you learn what motivates them.”

  “I fear that I already know what motivates them,” frowned Lord Marak.

  “She is right,” interjected Botal. “You are viewed as an outsider here. Not only an outsider, but a strange one at that. Eat with the other lords. Talk with them. Joke with them. For all appearances, become one of them. Only then will they listen to any of your words.”

  “You are right,” sighed Lord Marak. “I will dine with the lords. Latril, you will accompany me.”

  Lord Marak and Latril left the Torak quarters and walked to the Lords’ Dining Room. Unlike the room for the soldiers, which had long tables and benches, the Lords’ Dining Room had fine tables with se
ating for four or eight. The tables were made of fargi wood shined to a mirror finish. Comfortable leather chairs surrounded the tables, and each table was adorned with candles and flowers.

  Lord Marak halted when he entered the dining room. The loud din of conversation ceased when everyone noticed that he had entered. The Torak lord viewed the room quickly and chose to sit at an empty table. Slowly the conversations started anew, and Lord Marak was sure that he was now the topic of conversation at each and every table. An Imperial soldier hurried over and presented himself.

  “Would you and your guest care for fish or wasooki, Lord Marak?” the Imperial soldier asked.

  Lord Marak glanced briefly at Latril before answering, “Wasooki.”

  The Imperial soldier nodded perfunctorily and retreated. Lord Marak appeared to be gazing casually around the room as he wove an air tunnel. He moved the air tunnel from table to table to eavesdrop on the conversations.

  “Try the table in the corner,” Latril whispered. “You will find this interesting.”

  Lord Marak chuckled inwardly as he adjusted the air tunnel. He had not thought that Latril would also be spying. Suddenly, he dropped his air tunnel and turned to Latril.

  “How did you know?” he asked.

  “I wasn’t sure,” admitted Latril. “I have always thought your grasp of understanding magic and what your mages must go through was uncanny for someone with no skill, yet male mages are unknown to us.”

  “So if male mages are unknown,” probed Lord Marak, “what made you think I could use magic?”

  “That is why I suggested listening to the corner table,” smiled Latril. “They were just discussing some male mage known as Aakuta. If indeed one exists, why not others? And if any exist, surely you must be one.”

  “Your logic is flawless,” Lord Marak remarked as he wove his air tunnel again and focused on the corner table.

  The conversation halted abruptly as one lord rose and stormed out of the room.

  “What were they saying?” asked Lord Marak.

  “It appears that Lord Druck, who just left, had trouble with this Aakuta,” Latril explained. “He said the dark mage destroyed a squad of his soldiers and stole one hundred thousand gold coins from him.”

  “How did this mage destroy the soldiers?” questioned Marak.

  “They found the bodies burned beyond recognition,” frowned Latril. “Horses and soldiers in one heap. This was on a road, so I do not think they were burned in a building or from ordinary fire. The description is accurate as to what some of our mages can do.”

  “This dark mage stole money from Lord Druck?” asked Lord Marak.

  “Not exactly,” Latril shook her head. “It was payment for healing the lord’s son. The other lord, Lord Faliman, had recommended Aakuta. Now it appears they are enemies.”

  “This is something that we must learn more about,” Lord Marak declared as he moved his air tunnel to a different table. “When we contact Fardale, I want to let everyone know that we want information on this Aakuta.”

  “I did learn about a garden behind the palace,” offered Latril. “Perhaps we can go out there tomorrow and contact Fardale.”

  “You should not go alone,” frowned Lord Marak. “And if we go together, people will get the wrong impression of who you are.”

  “You are doing more talking than listening,” giggled Latril. “That is already what they all think. Have you not noticed that I am the only woman here?”

  Lord Marak’s eyes opened wide with understanding. He started to rise, but Latril placed her hand on his arm.

  “Let them think what they want,” she whispered. “Perhaps that will keep them from understanding the truth.”

  “You are a strong woman, Latril,” smiled Lord Marak, “but there is a demand I must make of you.”

  “What is that?” asked Latril.

  “Your knowledge of my skills must remain between you and me,” declared Lord Marak. “It is too soon for others to know.”

  “I shall not speak of it,” promised Latril, “but do not be surprised if others discover it. You have many intelligent mages in your service. Do not underestimate them.”

  “I never have,” grinned Lord Marak.

  “Ah, Lord Marak,” came a familiar voice from behind him. “May I sit with you?”

  Lord Marak turned to see Lord Shamino, the Sorgan lord. He waved his hand towards an empty chair.

  “By all means, Lord Shamino,” replied Lord Marak. “This is the first time for both of us.”

  “That sure started a new buzz among the lords,” Latril said softly. “They are surprised that anyone would sit with you, especially a neighbor.”

  “Keep listening,” whispered Lord Marak as the Sorgan lord sat down. “We will talk about this when we return to our quarters.”

  “The palace is quite exciting,” Lord Shamino said loudly as he smiled at Lord Marak. He lowered his voice to a whisper and continued, “Many lords are questioning me about the Torak clan in general, and about you in particular. What should I be telling them?”

  “What have you told them?” asked Lord Marak.

  “I feigned ignorance as best I could,” answered Lord Shamino. “I told them that I have just assumed leadership of the Sorgan clan, but that Lord Quavry appeared to get along rather well with you.”

  “You told them that?” questioned Lord Marak.

  “Well, he did appear to get along well with you,” chuckled Lord Shamino. “I did not mention that appearances could be deceiving.”

  “You are treacherous,” chuckled Lord Marak, “but you do bring up a good point. I need to set the tone for our other lords. Can you contact each of them without raising eyebrows?”

  “Easily,” smiled Lord Shamino. “It is you that everyone is watching. What do you want me to tell them?”

  “Ask each of them to stop by my quarters sometime tonight,” answered Lord Marak. “It is fine for them to act indifferently for now, but I will need them to express support for me at some point. That time may well be tomorrow.”

  “I shall do so right now,” responded Lord Shamino as he pushed back his chair and rose.

  Moments later the food was served and Lord Marak observed the assembled lords as he ate. After they had finished eating, lords started approaching the table one at a time. Most of them offered a bland welcome to the palace and fished for information. Lord Marak was polite to each as he tried to gauge their alignments with the other clans. One older lord in yellow and blue pulled back a chair and sat down.

  “So you are Lord Marak,” the lord said without emotion. “You are young for a lord. How have you come into power?”

  “You have the advantage, sir,” retorted Lord Marak. “I recognize your colors as the Dilendro clan, but I am afraid that I do not know your name.”

  “Lord Chandra,” replied the man. “Do not feel bad about it. People do not discuss me as they do you. You, sir, are rocking the boat here in Khadora. What is this nonsense about freeing your slaves? Is this true?”

  “It is,” nodded Lord Marak as he tried to get a feel for the old man. “I find that free men are better workers than slaves. You should try it.”

  “I think I will wait to see how you fare first,” replied Lord Chandra. “Evidently it is not working for you.”

  “Why do you say that?” puzzled Lord Marak.

  “I heard that you raised your prices on watula,” replied Lord Chandra. “Now that is a sure sign of a failing estate. You had best rethink your methods. Slavery is used because it provides cheap labor.”

  “Well,” smiled Lord Marak, “if I fail, many lords would probably cheer. I do not intend to fail though, Lord Chandra. I believe that all people should be treated with dignity, and that includes slaves.”

  “You may fail, or you may not,” shrugged Lord Chandra. “It matters little to me, but others have already matched your price increases, and that matters a great deal to me. My clan is not a wealthy one. We survive mostly because nobody wants what we have
. If they did, we would have been conquered long ago. These price increases just might be the death of my clan.”

  “How many slaves do you have, Lord Chandra?” asked Lord Marak.

  “Only a handful,” answered the Dilendro lord. “They are all mages. I had two of each discipline, but two have died in the last year. I am afraid they are aging like everything else on my estate, but your increases will hasten the demise of my people. I ask you to reconsider.”

  “How much watula do you consume in a year?” asked the Torak lord.

  “Not a great deal,” replied Lord Chandra. “Normally I would wait you out and harvest my own small fields, but the locust plague has destroyed my crops. That is what makes the timing of your increases so unfortunate. Half the country is being destroyed by the locusts.”

  “Your mages cannot rid your fields of the locusts?” inquired Lord Marak.

  “Of course not,” scowled the old man. “What kind of foolish question is that? I am afraid that you know little of being a lord.”

  “Actually,” smiled Lord Marak, “I think not knowing how to be a lord might be a blessing for me. What would you say if I could solve all of your problems?”

  “You?” laughed the old man. “You cannot even see the problems that you are creating for yourself. How can you solve mine?”

  “I know of mages that can rid your fields of locusts,” retorted Lord Marak. “They would cost you less than the annual cost of keeping your current mages. I also know where you can sell the mages you do have for about the same price.”

  “Are there mages that can really get rid of the locusts?” Lord Chandra asked skeptically.

  “They will not charge you if they fail,” smiled Lord Marak. “You have nothing to lose by trying them.”

  “Now you are saying something worth listening to,” Lord Chandra said, “but why would I sell my slaves?”

  “Several reasons,” answered Lord Marak. “If you hire mages only when you need them, why pay to feed and house them all year long?”

  “There is some sense to that,” agreed the old lord, “but there are things that cannot be solved by mages, like your price increases.”

  “Do not be so sure of that,” grinned Lord Marak. “I would not spread this word around too much, but I intend to offer a generous discount to any clan that is slave free. In fact, the cost of my goods to a clan who has no slaves will be considerably lower than last year’s prices.”