Star of Sakova

by Richard S. Tuttle

  StarWind’s turn arrived and she approached a young male clerk. “I am searching for my brother,” she stated. “He left home two weeks ago to seek work in the fields surrounding the city during harvest and I haven’t heard from him since. I heard that the fields were burned and people died in the fire. I should have heard from him by now and I fear he may have been one of those lost in the blaze. Can you help me?”

  “The bodies have already been buried,” the clerk replied. “Unless he had some marks that were very distinguishing, I am afraid it is impossible to say whether he was one of those lost or not.”

  “He did have a scar on his leg,” fabricated StarWind. “A nasty wasooki wound when he was helping a neighbor herd the animals.”

  The clerk shook his head and continued to scribble. He handed StarWind a slip of paper and pointed to the door on the left wall as he signaled for the next person to approach the counter. StarWind tried to make sense out of the note as she walked towards the door, but the scribble was indecipherable to her. She approached the door and the Imperial Guard stationed in front of it extended his arm for the note. StarWind handed it to him and he stared at it briefly before returning it to her and nodding that she could proceed through the door. She opened the door and stepped into a smaller room with benches for sitting and many doors leading to small offices. Another Imperial Guard approached her and looked at the note before directing her to a wooden door. StarWind opened the door and stepped into a cluttered office with an old man seated at the desk. She walked over to the desk and handed him the note without speaking. He squinted as he looked at it and finally put it on the desk atop a mess of papers lying there.

  “Never can read that scribble,” he stated distractedly. “What is it you want?”

  StarWind reiterated her tale of woe to the old man and he shook his head. “Not much luck finding him in this mess,” the man mumbled. “A leg scar you say? Lots of scars on the bodies and even a few tattoos, but I do not remember anything that resembled a wasooki horn puncture. You did say it was a puncture, didn’t you?”

  “I guess it was a puncture,” StarWind conceded. “The animals horn gored his inner leg.”

  “Nasty that kind of wound,” the old man said, ruffling the papers on his desk in search of something. “How old was he? Was he tall? Short? Fat?”

  StarWind smiled inwardly at the old man. “He was only two years older than me,” she stated. “He was average height and build. He had hair similar to mine but not as wavy.”

  “Hair won’t matter much,” the old man said as he snagged a pipe from under the pile of papers. He procured a striker and struggled to light it as he continued, “Hair burns too easily and the bodies were found in the fields that burned. Some weren’t burned too badly because the fire was swift, but hair doesn’t last long in a fire.”

  “How many were killed?” StarWind questioned.

  The old man managed to get his pipe started and puffed furiously on it. “Lots,” he said. “Over thirty at least. All men. Most of them had those darn stars imbedded in their backs. All sorts of stars. Four-pointed, six, even some with seven points. Savages those Sakovans. Probably dipped them in poison too.”

  “It was Sakovans that attacked,” StarWind asked surprisingly. “I hadn’t heard that. How do they know? Did they see them? What do they look like?”

  The old man stopped puffing on his pipe and looked at StarWind quizzically. “I don’t know,” he finally answered. “Good question that. I wonder what they do look like. Never seen a Sakovan. Would be interesting to take one apart and see what is different about them.”

  “Well, were all of them identified by someone already?” StarWind asked. “The victims, I mean. Are there any who were not identified? Perhaps that would narrow it down some.”

  The old man walked to a cabinet and extracted a large folder and brought it to the desk. He opened it and shuffled through the papers. A frown marred his owlish face as he read. “Only three were identified,” he mumbled. “Pretty small number for that many victims. Guess they were drifters.”

  StarWind worked her way around the desk as she spoke. “I imagine some might be like my brother,” she offered, “coming to work the fields during harvest, but I would not think that would apply to all of them. This shows marks on a body,” she commented as lifted a paper out of the folder. “Is there one of these for each victim?”

  The old man looked absentmindedly at the paper StarWind was holding as he searched through the folder for something else. “Yes one for each victim,” the old man stated. “Ah here it is. A summary of the dead. Thirty three in all. Fifteen with star wounds. The rest were burnt pretty badly.”

  “Perhaps these papers will allow me to identify my brother,” StarWind said. “May I look through this folder?”

  “What?” the old man asked as he noticed that his pipe had gone out again. “Yes, of course. Go ahead. Don’t leave the office though. Papers can’t leave the office.”

  StarWind took the large folder and found a clear spot on the floor to sit. She was vaguely aware of the old man flitting around the room, shuffling papers and mumbling to himself while she read. The information in the folder was very complete and StarWind began to get a feel for what happened that day. She absorbed the entire contents of the folder without interruption. She was stiff from sitting and wondered how long she had been reading when she rose and startled the old man.

  “What are you doing in my office?” he asked reaching out and snaring the folder from StarWind’s hands. “That is my folder. You shouldn’t walk into people’s offices and read their papers. Go on. Get along and do your own business. Can’t you see I have work to do?”

  StarWind smiled at the old man and apologized. She deftly grabbed the note she had been given by the clerk as she placed her hands on the desk to squeeze by the old man and slipped out of his office. She left the building purposefully and headed for the waterfront district.

  The waterfront was shabby and smelled of fish, but it was also lively. People scurried everywhere, some gaily dressed in sailing attire, some in the drab grays of city folk. Merchants roamed the wharf looking for goods to buy or arranging for transit of goods they had sold. She stood quietly and scanned the waterfront for Goral, but could not see the giant with his loud red shirt. StarWind picked a direction at random and started walking along the waterfront peering into each shop and tavern as she passed. A few doors in front of her a man emerged from a tavern with a bloody rag wrapped around his left hand. StarWind stopped and watched him as he ran past her and then she headed for the doorway he had come out of.

  The tavern was dark and mildly populated, but a roar of shouting came from the rear of the building. StarWind made her way through the room, dodging tables and errant chairs and came to a doorway with a large heavily muscled man blocking it. As she tried to get past him, he blocked her entrance with a large meaty arm.

  “Only by invitation,” the big man snarled. “Go sell your wares out front.”

  “I am looking for my brother,” StarWind snapped angrily. “Big man in a red shirt. Is he back there or not?”

  “Can’t speak or hear?” the big brute asked.

  “That’s him,” stated StarWind. “Let me by.”

  “I didn’t say he was back there,” grinned the large obstacle as he continued to block the doorway. “If he is, then it is none of your business. Get out of here before you get hurt little girl. Or maybe you want to give out samples to the boys in the back, eh?”

  StarWind turned as if to leave and then pivoted swiftly. She drove her fist into the brute’s hard abdomen and quickly followed it with a left punch to the man's jaw. She dropped to the floor and twirled her legs, pivoting on her hands, as she swept the man’s legs out from under him. He crashed heavily to the floor, his nose making an audible crunch as it struck the wood planking. StarWind leaped on his back and pulled a short dagger from her boot and held it the man’s throat as her other hand yanked back on his hair.

  “I shou
ld cut your throat for your insults alone,” she growled at him, “but this is my favorite knife and I don’t want it contaminated by your filthy blood. Your attitude towards women is sickening. If you are still here when I return with my brother, I will soil my knife and you will have no further interest in women.”

  StarWind let the man’s head drop harshly and bounded off him and through the doorway. Down the short hallway was an open door and StarWind headed straight for it. She poked her head in and saw Goral standing on the far side of the room watching the barbaric game of Digits where men try to sever their opponent’s fingers. She signaled him as she caught his eye and left the tavern by the rear door. Goral emerged seconds later and they headed down the alley to a quiet spot before talking.

  “I had a hard time getting to the back room,” greeted StarWind. “I am afraid I made an enemy. Have you found anything out?”

  “A little,” said Goral. “There was a group of around thirty men staying at the Hog’s Tail the night before the blaze. Only eleven of them stayed there the night following and they left the morning after. They were neither locals nor sailors. The leader had only three fingers on his left hand. That is why I was checking out that game back there.”

  “That matches with what I found out,” nodded StarWind. “Several of the men murdered were also missing fingers.”

  “A woman who frequents the Hog’s Tail mentioned the named Harac,” Goral added, “but she was not sure if that was the man’s true name. He mentioned that he was wealthy and from Okata. Not much to go on.”

  “It is but another reason for us to go to the capital,” StarWind mused. “I am sure that is where Lyra’s father is being kept and I think he may be the key to everything that is happening.”

  “We could make a stop at Gatong,” smiled Goral. “Catching up with Klaarg may shed a great deal of light on the problem.”

  “Gatong is not on the way to Okata,” chuckled StarWind. “I may have to buy you a geography book.”

  Goral smiled and shrugged and then tensed as he saw four men approaching from the end of the alley. “What exactly was the problem you had getting into the back room?” he asked.

  StarWind whirled to see the four men Goral had noticed. “There are three more behind you,” she warned through clenched teeth. “We cannot use stars here, not with the current fuss over Sakovans.”

  “I gathered the horses while you whittled the day away,” Goral stated. “If we can get past the three behind me, the horses are just off to the right.”

  “I only have a dagger on me,” StarWind swore.

  “Then we shall use their weapons,” grinned Goral as the men charged towards them. “I will take the four. You get the easy job.”

  “Thanks,” smirked StarWind as she pulled her small dagger and positioned herself in the center of the narrow alley with her back to Goral.

  Goral’s eyes scanned the alley for debris he could use as a weapon, but the alley was kept clean and there was nothing except a torn piece of cloth blowing along the ground. As Goral watched, the rag flew up and over his head and he nodded with a smirk. He left StarWind to her own devices and moved to the side of the alley where one of the buildings had a small porch with a balcony. The four thugs were getting close and Goral gripped one of the posts holding up the balcony and ripped it from the porch. The balcony wobbled as the post broke free and Goral held the huge wooden pole like a club. His four adversaries slowed and drew their swords.

  Behind him, StarWind stood calmly, tossing the small dagger from hand to hand as the three avengers raced towards her. They raised their swords and crowded together as they all tried to be the first to fell her. She recognized the big brute in between the rotund sailor and the shirtless man as the human obstacle she had had the altercation with and smiled at him.

  “Keep smiling little girl,” he yelled at her. “It is going to take more than your brother to save you this time. You are about to find out how useless that dagger of yours is.”

  StarWind kept smiling as she used her magic to float the scrap of cloth high in the air. When the charging killers got close enough, StarWind sent the cloth flying down to cover the braggart’s face. When his eyes got covered he slowed and the other two kept coming. The Sakovan spymaster ran towards the three men and tossed her throwing dagger. The dagger struck the boaster’s throat and StarWind threw herself into a roll between the other two men. She grabbed the sword dropped by the dying man and continued the roll to her feet and turned to face the remaining two thugs.

  “Rule number one,” she smirked as they slid to a halt and turned to face her, “never follow a fool into battle.”

  The two remaining men charged StarWind and she showed them that she knew how to use the borrowed sword. She blocked the swing of the sailor on her right and used the force of the deflection to propel her sword across the other man’s bare chest. He staggered back in surprise and StarWind turned her attention to the fat man on the right again.

  “Rule number two,” she panted, “never underestimate your opponent. I would explain rule number three but I fear you will never hear it.”

  StarWind summoned a gust of wind and flung it into the sailor’s face as she lunged forward. The man’s hands went to his face to clear his eyes and StarWind pierced his heart. She pushed his dead body away and pulled the sword free in time to drop to her knees and swing the sword. The shirtless man with the gash across his chest had been in the process of charging the Sakovan spymaster again and her swing took his legs off at the knees. She rose and swiftly ended his suffering as she looked to see if Goral needed help.

  Goral swung his huge club into the first man charging him and the man flew from the impact, colliding with the bald man next to him. Goral braced himself with the pole still extended outward and caught the third man in the stomach with it. Goral raised the pole swiftly upward, carrying the man with it, and let it slide through his hands as he reversed it and caught the fourth man in the gut with the end of it just before the hoodlum’s sword started to descend. Goral heard the thud of the third man landing behind him and turned his attention to the bald man who was knocked down by the first swing. He was the only attacker moving and he was moving quickly away, trying to reach the end of the alley before Goral could catch him. Goral shook the body of the fourth man off the pole and hurled the long post after the fleeing thug. The pole connected with the man’s back and he slid, face down, along the alley.

  “You do fairly well without magic,” StarWind stated. “I just hope the owner of the balcony doesn’t come after us next.”

  “Make sure they are all dead,” Goral said. “We may have to come back to this city someday and I do not want to be remembered.”

  “Well the three I got certainly are,” noted StarWind, “not to mention the one you nearly dropped on my head. You nearly split him in two with that lance of yours.”

  “I will try to perfect my thrust next time,” Goral mumbled as he checked the bodies. “We need to be moving along smartly now. I have grown tired of the city life.”

  “The wild animals of the wilderness are more cordial than these city folk,” chuckled StarWind. “A lot smarter too. Lead the way my gentle giant.”

  Chapter 23

  Minister of Defense

  His crimson robes flowed as Alazar strode down the corridor to the Mage cell block. The guard opened the door to the block and allowed the First Minister to enter. Inside the musty stone walls, Alazar met another guard and indicated for the man to follow him. The First Minister steeled himself for the talk with Master Malafar as he indicated to the guard which cell door to open. Alazar was growing impatient with the mage and knew he must avoid showing that impatience. The guard opened the cell door and Alazar swept into the cell.

  “Greetings, Master Malafar,” smiled Alazar. “I trust you are feeling well. The guards inform me that you have not been eating well. Is the food not to your liking? I can order a change in menu if you wish.”

  “Why do you bother me, Alazar?”
Master Malafar scowled. “I have told you repeatedly that I will not do whatever you want. Kill me or leave me be.”

  “I have no wish to kill you,” smiled the First Minister. “In fact, I am working on your release with the Katana. The task he wanted you to perform for your country is no longer needed. We found a very talented student who was quite capable of handling the job. It was not as difficult as we had thought.”

  Master Malafar was torn between surprise and confusion and the confusion won. “I don’t understand,” he confessed. “I thought the task was so difficult that only a Master Mage could accomplish it. Isn’t that why I was kidnapped? How could a mere student succeed?”

  “My dear Malafar,” Alazar sighed. “You still do not get it. I have told you repeatedly that the government did not kidnap you. I understand your skepticism and haven’t even bothered repeating it the last several times I was here because you refuse to see the truth, but the fact is that we sought to use your services because you were already here, not the other way around. I do believe that the kidnappers’ purpose was at odds with the services we needed and that is why we kept you locked up in here.”

  “Just what services did you require?” quizzed a still skeptical Malafar.

  “There have been several assassination attempts on the Katana,” confided the First Minister. “You many not be aware, but the Katana is magically shielded. The spells are ancient and after the last attempt, the Katana became alarmed. The last attempt, you see, almost penetrated the shields. We believe that the reason you were kidnapped was because you had the power to penetrate the shields. The service we wanted from you was to bolster those very shields.”