Star of Sakova

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “I didn’t ask for anyone’s agreement,” snapped Lyra. “With or without the Sakovans, I am going. Carry out your orders.”

  StormSong looked like she had been slapped, her eyes wide open with shock and her jaw hanging slack. Slowly, her mouth closed and her eyes glazed over with determination. She bowed to the Star of Sakova and silently slid out of the room.

  “Why do I have to fight everyone to do what must be done?” sighed Lyra after StormSong had disappeared. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but only I can take care of this problem. Surely she must have surmised that from the conversation?”

  “She did,” nodded Temiker. “What you don’t understand yet is that these people love you. They will die before they allow harm to come to you. StormSong will be in the group going to Okata or I am not a mage. StarWind’s problem will be in keeping people out of the group.” Temiker started to leave the room and turned when he reached the door. “I will be going as well, whether the Star of Sakova wants me to or not.”

  Lyra looked up at the empty doorway and shook her head. Just what I need, she thought. Barely old enough to be thinking about starting a family and now I am going to be leading an army into the Capital of Omunga.

  She shook her head again and pushed the thoughts out of her mind. She needed to get ready for the trip and figure out how to stop Malafar before the world collapsed on the Sakovans.

  Chapter 37

  Towards Destiny

  Lyra moved swiftly down the stairs and out into the pre-dawn courtyard. The mountain air was crisp and cool and the blackness of the sky was fading to gray. She pulled her vest tightly about her and headed for the choka pens. She saw a crowd of people standing around long before she reached the pens and grumbled to herself. This was not going to be an easy trip she realized and finally sighed with acceptance.

  She tossed her pack to Jostin as she got close to the pens and he scampered off to secure it on a choka. Lyra strode into the center of the group and surveyed those chosen for the trip. She stopped and stared when her eyes came to rest on Goral, StormSong, and MistyTrail. Great, she thought, a giant, an elf, and an overly tall female warrior with an attitude. The trio wouldn’t pass an easy inspection when it came time to enter the city. Perhaps they could pretend they were all part of a circus act.

  Lyra shook her head and continued her observation of the group. StarWind, HawkShadow, Temiker, and SunChaser completed the party, eight in all. Too large for stealth and too small for any effective defense, she thought, but quickly decided not to argue anymore.

  “Any word from the patrols?” she asked StormSong.

  “Nothing,” declared the tall Sakovan. “SkyDancer will keep them looking even as we travel though. I can’t imagine how he could escape detection.”

  “Let’s hope we are as good at it when we get into Omunga,” Lyra responded. “How do we enter the city with chokas?”

  “We will switch mounts with one of the patrols,” StarWind explained. “StormSong sent one of them out with horses so we could make time with the chokas and then switch mounts with them.”

  “Good idea,” Lyra nodded. “Are all of us necessary?” she asked StarWind, knowing the answer already.

  “This is the smallest party I could put together,” the spymaster assured her. “We will be all right. StormSong and MistyTrail will split from us when we get close to the city. The rest of us will appear to be the same party coming back into the city that left under Minister Kapla’s authorization with the exception of you. SunChaser will be able to explain your presence somehow.”

  SunChaser grinned as she looked at the Star of Sakova, “My younger sister perhaps. I will tell Kapla that you were living in my house up north and I had nowhere else to send you. He will not ask questions.”

  “Very well,” Lyra sighed, “let’s get moving then. I want to be in Okata before Malafar gets there.”

  ***

  “I see Okata is open for trade once again,” greeted Mayor Ferde.

  “Welcome, Ferde,” responded First Minister Larst as he looked up from behind his desk. “It has been a long time. Yes, I finally managed to convince the Katana that we were only hurting ourselves by restricting access to the city.”

  “And what of the assassin?” questioned the mayor as he sat in a chair across the desk from the First Minister. “Is there no longer any fear of him returning?”

  Larst shook his head and sighed as he toyed with his long mustache. “The Katana still fears for his safety, but it lessens with each passing day,” replied Larst. “He is almost convinced that Malafar is probably dead. He did get hit in the back with a fireball before he escaped. Not many would even have had the strength to walk after such a wound. Besides, Malafar achieved his objective and there is no reason to believe that he would be foolish enough to try it again if he is still alive.”

  “Why do you suppose he did it?” inquired Mayor Ferde.

  “The Sakovans have always hated us,” answered Larst with a shrug. “The real question is why it never happened sooner. The Katana has had the palace mages working nonstop to strengthen his shields, so that the act cannot be repeated.”

  The Mayor of Campanil crossed his legs, pulled out a pipe, and began stuffing it with bocco. The silence grew thick as the mayor grabbed a candle off the First Minister’s desk and lit his pipe.

  “Larst,” Ferde said, finally breaking the quiet, “we have known each other a long time. As Minister of Trade, you were always reasonable and put the best interests of the whole country before anything else. I have admired that stance even when it meant a loss for Campanil. You have many years of service to our nation and you are knowledgeable in all areas. Why is it that you were not chosen to be Katana?”

  Larst scrutinized his visitor with a puzzled brow trying to find a hint of a trap in the proffered question. It was treasonous to speak against the Katana and the mayor’s question could be posed to ensnare the First Minister out of his coveted position. Still, Ferde had always been friendly and courteous to him in the past, even when he had ruled against the mayor’s position. He pondered the implications of his answer before replying.

  “The Katana’s Council voted for Alazar,” Larst finally answered. “He had more support than I did and contesting his election would not have been good for the country. We needed a new Katana quickly to bring order to the city and the government. While I am flattered that you think of me in such a high fashion, you must realize by my past actions, that I support the government without question and that includes the Katana.”

  “So you did consider running for the position,” Ferde surmised. “How did you manage to become First Minister?”

  The First Minister rose stiffly to his feet and glared at the mayor. “What is going on here?” he demanded. “First you favor me with your view of my patriotism and now you challenge my right to office. What game are you playing?”

  Mayor Ferde waved his hand in a dismissive manner and smiled. “I do not question your right to office, my friend,” soothed the mayor. “I am merely curious about what transpired. You must understand that as mayor of one of the largest cities, I am privy to many things in the government, but the workings of the Katana’s Council is not one of them. I do not question your patriotism, as you should know from my earlier statements, but I also do not think that you blindly follow anyone, including Alazar. You are eminently qualified for the position, but I was under the belief that you held different views than Alazar and I am just curious why he selected you as First Minister.”

  Larst’s glare softened slowly and he eventually nodded and sat back down. “I did try to become Katana,” admitted Larst. “It was clear that I did not have the votes and neither did Alazar. A long battle would have ensued if I had chosen to fight Alazar for the position. He knew this as well and offered me the position of First Minister to end the contest. The country needed leadership quickly and I accepted. It was more important to me to stabilize the nation than to advance my own agenda. Does that satisfy your
curiosity?”

  “Yes,” nodded Ferde. “I am sorry to seem to interrogate you, Larst, but I believed you to be a proud Omungan and not someone else’s dupe. I had to be sure.”

  “Sure of what?” barked the First Minister. “You are beginning to sound like a conspirator and if that is where you are heading, I advise you to leave immediately.”

  “I probably should do just that,” Ferde agreed, “but I care too much about our nation to ignore what I know. Frankly, I do not know what to do, which is why I came to you. I do not think our country has ever faced such a dilemma.”

  “Once again I advise you to leave,” Larst stated adamantly. “I will not sit still for any treasonous talk and I do not wish to have you end your illustrious career in prison.”

  Mayor Ferde frowned and rose from his chair. He turned to leave the First Minister’s office and suddenly sat back down in the chair. “There are other matters that I wish to discuss with you, if that is acceptable,” he stated.

  Larst sighed and nodded.

  “In fact, I have some good news,” smiled Ferde. “The people of Campanil will not starve this winter. We have more than enough watula to get us through until next harvest.”

  The First Minister’s eyes widened in surprise. “That is wonderful,” he declared. “Where did it come from?”

  “We found it stockpiled at one of the outlying farms,” Mayor Ferde replied without disclosing that he knew how it got there.

  “Well make sure you guard it well,” cautioned Larst. “If the Sakovans find out about it, you may find your people hungry this winter yet.”

  “I don’t think so,” Ferde frowned. “Our investigation indicated that it was not Sakovans who burned the fields.”

  “What do you mean?” puzzled Larst. “I read the reports myself and it clearly showed that it was a Sakovan attack.”

  “I had the case reopened,” explained Ferde. “I came across some disturbing information that did not mesh with the original report. When the new investigation was completed, it was clear that the attack was staged by Omungans intent on making it look like a Sakovan raid. I have a copy of the new report with me. You may have it.”

  The First Minister took the offered report and read through it while the mayor sat puffing on his pipe, filling the room with a thick bocco scent. The First Minister frowned deeply as he set the report on his desk.

  “You are sure of this information?” he quizzed the mayor.

  “We are certain,” nodded Ferde. “Some of the blacksmiths even verified their marks on the fake stars.”

  “This is vital information,” frowned the First Minister. “I must bring this to the attention of the Katana’s Council right away. We are poised to attack Sakova because of this tragedy and the assassination, of course the assassination is reason enough, but the Council must be informed.”

  “I have long wondered about the assassination,” Ferde mused as he grasped the opportunity to manipulate the conversation. “This Malafar owned the Academy of Magic. How is it we think he is Sakovan?”

  The First Minister looked up in surprise, his mind still processing the implication of the Campanil attack. “The Academy of Magic was just a front,” he murmured. “He used the school to train Sakovan mages.”

  “I heard that accusation,” noted the mayor, “but his father was also a Minister on the Council. Was his father a Sakovan as well?”

  “Malafar’s father was a Minister?” echoed Larst. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Minister of Agriculture before Calix,” nodded Ferde. “Both Malafar and Temiker were brought up in Okata. I didn’t think a Sakovan could actually penetrate the Katana’s Council. How did we finally find out he was Sakovan?”

  First Minister Larst sat toying with a mustache for a long moment. “I am not sure of the evidence,” he admitted. “He has been labeled as a Sakovan for so long that I guess I never thought about it. Not that it matters much because he showed his true colors by assassinating the Katana.”

  “With the coming war and the report I just gave you on Campanil,” Ferde persisted, “I think it makes a great deal of difference. If Malafar is not Sakovan, then we are being manipulated into this war. Who was it that accused Malafar of being Sakovan? Perhaps we can ask to see the documentary evidence.”

  The First Minster’s face paled as he rose to his feet once more. “Why do I feel as though you already know the answer to that question?” posed Larst. “I told you that I did not want to go there, Ferde. I suggest you leave now.”

  “Go where?” Ferde asked innocently. “I haven’t mentioned anything treasonous, have I? I thought we were discussing the possibility that someone was trying to send this country to war based upon false assumptions. Surely such talk is patriotic, not treasonous.”

  Larst chewed on his lower lip as he stared at the Campanil Mayor before him. He realized now how Ferde had directed the conversation and, although the words had not been spoken, Larst now faced a dilemma of his own. He either stood by his love of his country or his sworn loyalty to the Katana. Finally, he seemed to make up his mind.

  “This conversation never took place,” the First Minister instructed. “If you try to indicate that it did, I will destroy you. Am I clear?”

  Ferde frowned and rose while nodding his head in agreement.

  “Sit down,” commanded Larst. “Do you have any proof regarding his involvement?”

  Ferde was shocked at the realization that he had finally gotten through to the First Minister. “I do,” he assured. “I have a man in custody who worked directly for him. His job was to attack the Academy, secure Malafar, and bring him to the Okata. He was also supposed to track down Temiker and Lyra, Malafar’s daughter. If anyone finds out that I have this man in custody, his life is forfeit.”

  “A criminal’s word is hardly anything worth talking about,” sighed Larst.

  “True,” agreed Ferde, “but if Malafar was brought to the city and placed in custody, he would have had to have been held at the mage cells and we would know who had him incarerated. That is something you can verify without arousing suspicion.”

  “You must know that I will not do anything to dethrone Alazar,” Larst declared. “I will check the mage cells for his confinement, but the information will do little for us. It still doesn’t explain the assassination.”

  “It does if Malafar was drugged over a long period of time,” suggested Ferde. “Have you ever heard of a drug called Quetara?”

  Larst nodded solemnly. “Still there is nothing we can do,” he sighed. “I will not help overthrow a sitting Katana.”

  “Nor I,” agreed Ferde. “That is why I have come to you. I do not know what to do. At least you can try to diffuse the war. Short of war, Alazar cannot do too much harm.”

  “You underestimate the power of the Katana,” warned the First Minister. “He does not need Council approval for a war. The Sakovans are not the only enemy Alazar sees as a threat either. There have been rumblings and rumors of Khadora being the real enemy and the Sakovans being portrayed as merely a thorn to be plucked before turning our attention northward.”

  “Two wars would devastate this country,” groaned Ferde. “What can we do?”

  “There is nothing we can do without breaking our allegiance to the Katana,” summarized Larst. “I will never do so, no matter how he came into power. If we were to act against Alazar, the time for it was before he became Katana. We could hope that the Sakovans would remove him for us.”

  “I fear that will not happen,” Ferde shook his head. “They have said as much and I agree with them. Oh they want to, but if the Sakovans were to assassinate another Katana, war would surely follow and war is not what they want.”

  “You have spoken with Sakovans?” Larst exclaimed, his eyebrows rising in an arch. “What would prompt you to undertake such a dangerous path?”

  “I did not undertake it,” explained the Mayor of Campanil. “They came to me in my bed one night. They slipped past the Imperial Guard and my
personal bodyguards. They could easily have killed me and been gone without capture.”

  “What did they want?” quizzed Larst.

  “They wanted me to reopen the investigation,” answered Ferde. “They do not want war and they had discovered who had really set the fires, which they were being blamed for. They provided the facts and I independently verified them later. Everything they said I have proved to be true.”

  “So you believe them?” inquired the First Minister.

  “Absolutely,” responded Ferde. “I did not at first, but there is no longer any doubt. It was the Sakovans who supplied the watula for Campanil. They managed to sneak it past the army and conceal it on one of the burned farms. They did not need to do this to get me to check out their story. I believe they really cared about my people starving. I think we have much to learn about our neighbors in the interior.”

  “It appears that our greatest threat is among our own people,” frowned Larst. “If the Sakovans will not remove Alazar then we are in for a rough road.”

  Mayor Ferde nodded and rose to leave, but Minister Larst called softly to him. “Do not repeat this conversation with the other Ministers,” he cautioned. “Most are in Alazar’s camp and you will be tried for treason. I need not mention the interrogation that you will go through before you die.”

  “This conversation never took place,” assured Ferde. “If I am caught, I will die with dignity. You will be safe. Besides, like yourself, I will not act against the Katana. I just wanted another patriot to know the truth.”

  First Minister Larst watched him leave. He didn’t know whether to curse the Mayor or thank him for sharing the information. He felt better knowing the truth, but his inability to act would surely plague him the rest of his life.

  ***

  Lyra slept fitfully, the fatigue of the day’s journey sending her promptly to sleep, but a sleep fraught with visions and images of centuries gone by. The dreams had been frequent since her anointment as the Star of Sakova and always portrayed the defining moments of the Sakovan civilization, but they varied as well. Each dream seemed to branch off in a new and exciting way to divulge more of the culture of the people she had been chosen to lead. Each morning she awoke with a feeling of being more Sakovan than the day before, although she often could not remember the details of the dreams.