Aakuta: the Dark Mage fl-4

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Thank you, Emperor,” bowed Lord Marak. “Thank you for nominating me. I am indebted.”

  “The reason that I asked you here, Lord Marak,” frowned the Emperor, “is to set the record straight. Do not think that I nominated you because I like you. As Emperor, I would never impose my will on the Assembly of Lords in such a fashion to show favor to one clan over another. That is a point that must be clear in your mind.”

  “Then why did you nominate me?” asked Lord Marak.

  “For the very reasons I mentioned in my speech in the Assembly of Lords,” replied the Emperor. “For too long the Lords’ Council has been the haven for the same clans and the same old ideas. It is time for all of Khadora to participate in running this country. I also feel that we must entertain new ideas if we are to grow, but I am also keenly aware that many of those new ideas will be rejected. This is something that you must learn to understand as well.”

  “I will endeavor to remember that,” nodded Lord Marak. “Still, you did break with tradition on my behalf. You could have accomplished your goal with any of a hundred other lords.”

  “True,” agreed the Emperor. “There is still the matter of these prophecies you believe in. I am not convinced of their validity, but I understand that you are. If there is any truth contained in those scrolls, it will benefit Khadora to have you in a position to affect change in this country. You are the only lord that met all of the requirements that I had for a candidate. That small show of support from your neighbors in the dining room last night was also impressive. You seem to have a way of making supporters out of enemies. Perhaps you can do that on a larger scale. Do not disappoint me.”

  “I will not disappoint you,” promised Lord Marak.

  “Good,” grinned Emperor Bagora. “Of course, it did not hurt my decision that I do like you. Now you must purchase a house in Khadoratung. A member of the Lords’ Council needs to be available in times of emergency. Fardale is much too far away to be acceptable.”

  “Then I shall see what is available,” agreed Lord Marak.

  “You will then be close enough to visit here often,” smiled the Emperor. “I look forward to continuing our discussion on these prophecies. I will contact Marshal Chack and arrange for you to have larger quarters befitting a member of the Lords’ Council. He will also move your seat in the Assembly of Lords to the front of the room.”

  “New quarters will be nice,” responded Lord Marak after a moment’s hesitation, “but I would like to remain where I am in the Assembly Chamber.”

  “Remain in the back?” questioned the Emperor. “I do not think you understand. The Lords’ Council sits in the front of the room so that the other lords can follow their lead. If you remain in the rear, you will forfeit a great advantage.”

  “Perhaps,” shrugged Lord Marak as he thought about giving up the ability to use an air tunnel in the Assembly Chamber, “but my hope is that the lords of Khadora will begin to decide things independently and not always follow the lead of others. Maybe I will change my mind at some future date.”

  “Very well,” sighed the Emperor. “Be careful in your dealings with the Lords’ Council. Your election may well bind together the factions that exist there. You should go to their dining room for your midday meal today. They will want to test your mettle, and it is best done without a large audience.”

  “A point well made,” frowned Lord Marak. “I will go there directly.”

  Lord Marak left the Emperor’s office. Instead of finding the Imperial soldier who had escorted him, Chard greeted Lord Marak.

  “I relieved the other man,” smiled Chard. “He did not have time for a meal today so I let him go eat. Where are we bound for?”

  “So I am not to be followed any more?” quipped Lord Marak.

  “It was a sore point with Marshal Chack that you noticed each man sent to follow you,” chuckled Chard. “Now that you are a member of the Lords’ Council and only have a single squad in the capital with you, it is not unreasonable for the marshal to offer a guide.”

  “I like this approach better,” smiled Lord Marak. “Take me to the dining room of the Lords’ Council.”

  Chard nodded and led the way. When they arrived outside the dining room, Lord Mirakotto was in the corridor talking to Lord Jamarat.

  “Not enough men for your escort,” quipped Lord Mirakotto as Chard separated himself from Lord Marak and moved respectfully away from the conversation.

  “I am new to the Imperial Palace,” smiled Lord Marak. “I guess there are times that I need a guide.”

  “There will be no guide for you within the realm of the Lords’ Council,” Lord Mirakotto retorted. “I do not know what hold you have over the Emperor, but do not think that he will interfere in the work of the Lords’ Council. He has no standing to do so. You may have taken the seat of Lord Woton, but you can never take his place.”

  “I do not wish to take anyone’s place,” Lord Marak replied steadily. “I seek only to do what is in Khadora’s best interests.”

  “Khadora’s best interests?” snapped Lord Mirakotto. “You are not yet old enough to be a lord in my mind. What the Emperor was possibly thinking when he nominated you for one of the highest posts in the land is beyond me. Enjoy your stay in the Lords’ Council, Lord Marak. It will be the shortest ever recorded.”

  Lord Mirakotto turned and stormed into the dining room. Lord Marak shook his head and turned to see Lord Jamarat glaring at him.

  “I am sorry for the loss of your brother,” Lord Marak said to the Neju lord. “I did not know him personally, but I heard bits about his service to Khadora. I am sure that he will be missed.”

  “Do not offer your phony words to me,” scowled Lord Jamarat. “All you care about is stealing his seat in the Lords’ Council.”

  “Stealing?” frowned Lord Marak. “Let me make one thing clear to you, Lord Jamarat. I did not ask to be on the Lords’ Council, nor did I ever expect to be nominated. I did not ask a single lord to vote for me. I am honored that so many did, and I will endeavor to do my best to serve Khadora as I am sure you would have, had you been elected, but do not accuse me of wrongdoing in this.”

  “That seat was supposed to be mine,” huffed Lord Jamarat.

  “I expected it to be so,” nodded Lord Marak, “but the result is not my doing.”

  “You are right,” conceded Lord Jamarat after a long pause. “The Emperor would never have spoken if Lord Kiamesh had not started it. He is the one who stole Woton’s seat. He did not want the Neju clan to be represented on the Lords’ Council.”

  “Of that I know nothing,” shrugged Lord Marak as he realized that Lord Jamarat thought like a child. “You miss him, don’t you?”

  A puzzled frown fell over Lord Jamarat’s face as he stared at Lord Marak. Slowly, he nodded.

  “Woton was everything to me,” Lord Jamarat said as a lump formed in his throat. “You cannot understand. He protected me when I got in trouble. Now he is gone.”

  “He is gone,” Lord Marak said soothingly. “Still, that does not mean that you cannot find someone to watch out for you. I know the loss of a loved one can be devastating. Perhaps I can help you when you need help. You have but to ask.”

  Lord Jamarat’s eyebrows rose as the looked at the Torak lord. “Why would you help me?” he asked.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” smiled Lord Marak. “Your clan is old and well respected. Should not a Khadoran help another when he needs it?”

  “They should,” nodded Lord Jamarat, “but that is not the way of Khadora.”

  “It is my way,” retorted Lord Marak. “If you find yourself in trouble, talk to me. I will do what I can.”

  “Do you really mean that?” asked Lord Jamarat. “Or do you say that to look good in front of others?”

  Lord Marak smiled as he shook his head. He stretched his arm and placed his hand on Lord Jamarat’s shoulder. “Look around, Jamarat,” he smiled. “There is nobody here to hear my words but you. When you need me, let me know.”r />
  Lord Jamarat smiled and nodded as Lord Marak stepped into the dining room. The room was elegant. Fine fabrics adorned the walls and a row of leather chairs sat before a fireplace. In the center of the room was a long rectangular black table. Lord Mirakotto sat at one end, and Lord Kiamesh sat at the other. Lord Patel and Lord Garic were on the side closest to the door and had their backs to it. On the far side of the table was an empty chair next to Lord Quilo. As it was positioned, only Lord Quilo could observe Lord Marak enter the room. A mischievous smile spread across his face when he noticed Lord Marak, but he said nothing to interrupt the loud conversation that was currently taking place.

  “This is all your fault, Kiamesh,” snarled Lord Mirakotto. “If you had not broken with tradition, we would not have to suffer the boy lord among our ranks.”

  “Oh?” countered Lord Kiamesh. “And I should have just remained quiet and let you seat that imbecile brother of Lord Woton among us? Jamarat has the wits of a ten year old. He would bark if you commanded him to.”

  “Which would have suited Lord Mirakotto just fine,” interjected Lord Patel. “It is no secret that Lord Woton was your man, Mirakotto. You merely sought to replace him with Jamarat to retain your power over this council. Now you shall have to vie for votes the same as we all do.”

  “At least Lord Faliman was from a founding clan,” added Lord Kiamesh. “Now we are stuck with a man who should not even be a lord. This makes a mockery of the Lords’ Council. You should have stopped the Emperor, Garic.”

  “Don’t you think I wanted to?” defended Lord Garic. “If we had had any advance notice of what the Emperor was up to, we could have worked around it. There was nothing that I could do.”

  “Welcome, Lord Marak,” chuckled Lord Quilo when he thought he had had enough fun at the expense of his fellow lords. “Welcome to the Lords’ Council.”

  The other lords snapped their heads to see Lord Marak standing near the door. Lord Quilo started laughing, and the other lords shot him dark glares.

  “So the boy lord has come to the table,” scowled Lord Mirakotto. “Is it normal in the frontier for people to stand behind the backs of others and eavesdrop on their conversations?”

  Lord Marak walked around the table and sat in the empty chair. He fixed his gaze on Lord Mirakotto.

  “About as normal as it is in the capital to place personal power over the good of the country,” he said softly to Lord Mirakotto. “Please pass the tea.”

  “You make light of this?” snapped Lord Mirakotto. “My son is older than you, and he is years away from being ready to run a clan, not to mention sitting on the Lords’ Council.”

  “And you would prefer that an older man sit here?” retorted Lord Marak. “Even if he does have the mind of a child? Look, Mirakotto, I did not ask for this seat, nor did I seek it in any way, but I am here now. We can act like adults and try our best to do the right thing for Khadora, or we can play childish games. Which shall it be?”

  “Do not lecture me!” shouted Lord Mirakotto as he pushed back his chair and rose threateningly. “You may have gotten a seat on this council, but you will not be here for long.”

  Lord Marak picked up the knife that was on the table before him. He let his eyes drop as he held the knife by the blade. For a long moment the room was deathly silent. Then Lord Marak looked up and locked his eyes on Lord Mirakotto’s.

  “How long any of us will serve here is open to debate,” Lord Marak said in a stern tone as Lord Mirakotto’s eyes were drawn to the knife. “It is a debate that I am not ready to join at the moment. Do not push me, Mirakotto. You will strain your old heart.”

  A long tense moment of silence followed Lord Marak’s threat.

  “Well,” Lord Quilo said lightheartedly as he pushed back his chair and rose. “This has been a most interesting meal, but I have business to attend to.”

  “As do I,” Lord Kiamesh nodded gravely as he too rose.

  Lord Mirakotto snarled and spun towards the door. He stormed out of the room, and Lord Quilo and Lord Kiamesh followed him.

  “You should not push him,” Lord Garic said softly to Lord Marak. “Woton was a dear friend of his.”

  “I do not attack others,” Lord Marak replied as his eyes glanced towards Lord Patel, “unless I am attacked, but I can be counted on to defend myself without remorse.”

  A thin smile crossed Lord Patel’s lips as Lord Garic rose and left the room. “A wonderful start,” Lord Patel quipped. “Not even the first day and you have made a powerful enemy. I would watch that one if I were you. Lord Mirakotto has been known to strike when it is least expected.”

  “That is a sound strategy,” Lord Marak smiled in return as he rang the bell for a servant so that he could order his meal.

  “There is no need to hurry your meal,” Lord Patel offered. “This afternoon’s meeting of the Assembly of Lords will be dry and uninteresting. It will be mostly closing comments. Unless of course you are eager to wallow in the ingratiating compliments that will be showered upon you.”

  “That is not something that concerns me,” Lord Marak shook his head. “I am not interested in such things. Why only closing comments? There is another day of meetings scheduled.”

  “Not any more,” Lord Patel replied. “The Emperor is declaring tomorrow a day of mourning for Lord Woton. The Assembly of Lords will be shortened.”

  “Will the Lords’ Council meet?” questioned Lord Marak. “Or is everyone returning home?”

  “There is no pressing business before the Lords’ Council,” answered Lord Patel. “I am not sure what the others are doing, but I am going home today. What are your plans, Lord Marak?”

  Lord Marak could not help but smile as he pictured Lord Patel rushing home to organize an ambush of Lord Marak’s party returning to Fardale.

  “I will linger in Khadoratung for a few days,” replied Lord Marak. “I need to find a residence in the city now that much of my time will be spent here. Perhaps I will return to Fardale the beginning of next week.”

  “Well,” Lord Patel smiled innocently as he rose to leave, “I hope you have a safe journey home.”

  Lord Patel left as the servant appeared to take Lord Marak’s order. After listening to the meal choices, Lord Marak decided to forego the midday meal. He finished his tea and left the dining room. Chard was waiting for him in the corridor.

  “That was a short meal,” commented Chard.

  “Indeed it was,” nodded Lord Marak. “It was not as comfortable as a family reunion.”

  “I can imagine,” chuckled the Imperial soldier. “I watched Lord Mirakotto storm out of there. He was not a happy man.”

  “Lord Mirakotto has problems with controlling his anger,” shrugged Lord Marak. “I wish to return to my quarters.”

  Chard nodded and led the way downstairs. When they reached the Torak quarters, Lord Marak released Chard to go and eat. Lord Marak entered the quarters and the room exploded in congratulations.

  “What a day!” grinned Botal. “It is hard to believe that the Torak clan has a seat on the Lords’ Council.”

  “Indeed,” smiled Lord Marak. “I had hoped one day to get one of my clans on the Lords’ Council, but I never expected it to be me. Now we must make use of it. Latril, join me in the garden.”

  Latril nodded and they left the quarters and went to the garden. They sat on a bench and appeared to be talking to each other while Latril wove an air tunnel to Fardale.

  “You could be doing this yourself,” Latril pointed out. “Why do you need me?”

  “I would look rather suspicious speaking to myself,” chuckled Lord Marak. “Besides, my abilities are not known yet. I prefer it to remain that way.”

  Latril nodded as she completed the link. Lord Marshal Yenga immediately congratulated Lord Marak on his rise to the Lords’ Council.

  “How did you know?” asked Lord Marak.

  “Mistake contacted us,” explained Yenga. “It seems the word is all over Khadoratung already. Will you want
a larger escort for the trip home? I imagine that your enemies will be more determined than ever to kill you now.”

  “Actually,” frowned Lord Marak, “I will be buying a home in Khadoratung. Ask Kasa to arrange our finances and I will contact her when I find out the price. As for the escort, I will have more than enough. How are our troops doing in Deep Bend?”

  “Everything there is quiet,” answered Lord Marshal Yenga. “There have been no reinforcements sent from the Imperial Valley. We can take the estate will little effort.”

  “Order it,” decided Lord Marak. “I want it taken with a minimum of bloodshed, but it must be in our hands two days from now. Let no word escape that we have taken it.”

  “This is a large risk,” warned Yenga. “I would not be fulfilling my duty as your Lord Marshal if I did not warn you that attacking a member of the Lords’ Council is asking for war.”

  “You have fulfilled your duty,” Lord Marak noted. “Before midday, two days from now, I want you to release one of the special birds at the Sorgan estate. The message is simple. Let Lord Patel know that we have seized his estate at Deep Bend, and it is now a Torak estate. I want the bird to arrive in the Imperial Valley close to midday. Can you do that?”

  “It will be as you command,” Lord Marshal Yenga replied with obvious concern in his voice. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

  “I hope so as well,” conceded Lord Marak as he wove his own air tunnel to the two cortes he had stationed outside the city of Khadoratung. “I will contact you as soon as my plans are solidified.”

  Lord Marak indicated that Latril should drop her air tunnel as he made contact with the air mage attached to Cortain Tagoro’s corte.

  “Lord Marak?” asked Cortain Tagoro. “Are you ready to leave the city?”

  “Not yet,” answered Lord Marak, “but you are. I want your men to move out tonight. We have two days to accomplish our goal so plan accordingly. Secrecy is most important. I will meet you there two days from tonight. Scout it out for a bloodless entry.”