Determined to do what should have been his right, Marak pressed on. He stealthily moved from shack to shack, cursing the color of his uniform each time he had to cross an open space. Swiftly, he gained the footpath into the small patch of trees that afforded a little privacy for the slaves. His mother was already returning towards the shack when she stopped short at the sight of a soldier.
“Marak!” she exclaimed softly. “You should not be here. Go, before you are caught.”
Marak walked to his mother and embraced her. “I will not go,” he stated simply.
He grabbed her hand and led her off the path to a clear area between two trees where they could sit. He gently lowered her to the ground and sat down beside her.
“Mother, it is not right to forbid us the opportunity to talk,” Marak began. “I have sorely missed you and if there is a price to pay for the pleasure of your company for a little while, I will pay it.”
“But, they will make you a slave,” Glenda protested. “I do not want to live to see my son a slave. You must go back.”
“Enough talk about what they will do,” sighed Marak. “I am already here and the punishment is no greater for a longer visit. I want to know about you, not what Lord Ridak wants.”
Glenda hugged her son and cried. “You are so much like your father,” she sobbed, “stubborn as a wasooki and as brave as the mightiest warrior. I know you watch me from the orchard. I wish you wouldn’t. It makes my burden harder to bear. You must get on with your own life and forget me. I am paying the price of my own foolishness and there is no need for you to feel bad about my predicament. Look at you, a Squad Leader at such a young age. You make me proud.”
“What about you, Mother,” quizzed Marak. “You seem to be moving slower when I watch you these days. Are you feeling well?”
“You are observant,” sighed Glenda. “My body is not as young as it once was, but I get around all right. I have no particular ailments, just a need for more rest than before.”
“I vow to get you out of here,” declared Marak. “If it is the last thing that I do, you shall be free again.”
“Hush,” ordered Glenda as she wrapped her arms around her son’s neck. “You should never make such a vow. If anyone other than I heard it, you would be tending the fields alongside me. Where is your father’s necklace? You should be wearing it.”
“It is in my keepbox in the barracks,” Marak said. “There were too many questions about it and I decided it would be safer in the keepbox than around my neck.”
“Wear it,” ordered Glenda. “It is all you have to remind you of him. Keep it next to your heart always.”
“Why do I need to be reminded of him?” barked Marak. “In the fourteen years you have been captive, he has never tried to see you. If he is not dead, he deserves to be.”
Marak never expected the slap that stung his cheek. “Never talk that way about him,” she scolded. “He was the best man I have ever met and you should strive to be like him. He does not know what happened to me. He was told that I am dead. It was the only way I could think of to protect him. Lord Ridak would have killed him as soon as he showed himself. I can live with my punishment, but I could not live knowing my actions had killed him. I only wish I had been able to leave you with him. He loved you so and the two of you would have gotten along well together.”
“I’m sorry, Mother,” apologized Marak. “I have no memories of him now. It is hard to appreciate a father you have never known. I know he did not live on the estate with us. Where did he live and why didn’t he live on the estate at Forest Deep?”
Sounds from outside the fence of the slave compound silenced Glenda’s answer. “You must go now, if you are to get free,” she whispered. “Do not come again. Whenever you make Cortain, it will be soon enough for me.”
Glenda kissed Marak gently and rose. Within seconds she was back on the path returning to her shack. Marak stood and strained to hear which direction the noises were coming from. Unable to pinpoint the direction of the noise, Marak headed through the trees to an open area near the fence and vaulted over it. Taking a long loop away from the slave shacks, Marak walked through the orchard to the trail which led to the creek. He stopped at the creek and cupped the cold, clear water into his hands and rinsed his face. He waited a while before taking the path which led back to the barracks.
As he neared the barracks, Squad Leader Rybak walked by and grinned a malicious smile. Marak knew that meant trouble. For a few stolen moments with his mother, Marak was going to pay back years of hard work. He ignored Rybak and entered the barracks. Most of the men were already sleeping and the few who were not did not meet his gaze. He opened the door to the officer’s communal area and was not surprised to see Cortain Koors sitting with Squad Leader Tagoro. Tagoro’s face told the tale neatly. His pained expression and the Cortain’s unusual glee sealed Marak’s fate.
“Where have you been, Squad Leader Marak?” sang Cortain Koors.
“I am off duty,” Marak stated. “My movements are not subject to your scrutiny.”
“Well,” chuckled Koors, “that depends on what your movements were, doesn’t it? Tell me where you were and I will decide if it is any of my business.”
“I went for a walk,” Marak stated simply.
“And where did this walk take you?” questioned Koors.
“Into the woods and down by the creek,” Marak said.
“All right,” spat Cortain Koors, “let’s stop playing games, Squad Leader. Did you enter the slave compound this evening?”
“Yes,” surrendered Marak.
“As I already knew,” Koors offered. “It is time for us to speak with the Lord Marshal, Squad Leader. Although I doubt I shall be calling you by that title much longer. I knew your kind was not to be trusted and I have waited for this slip of yours for a long time. Finally, you will be placed where you deserve to be placed, in the shacks with your mother. Let’s go, slave Marak. We have a meeting to attend with the Lord Marshal.”
Marak turned around and marched back through the barracks. He heard Koors behind him ordering Tagoro not to mention anything to anybody until he was given leave to do so. Obviously, Koors wanted the pleasure of informing everyone himself. Marak picked up his stride in a last measure of defiance and smiled when he heard Koors huffing to keep up without appearing to be running after Marak. When Marak reached the mansion, Squad Leader Rybak was on the porch with the same malicious grin and Marak simply passed him and entered the mansion.
Once in the entry foyer, Marak stopped and waited for Koors. The Cortain entered the foyer and stopped to catch his breath. Marak felt a small amount of satisfaction in causing the Cortain some discomfort. The man was supposed to be a military man and not overweight and out of shape. Marak felt Koors would be better suited to watching the kitchen staff.
The Cortain caught his breath and led the way through the entry foyer to the Lord Marshal’s suite. He knocked and heard the answering call permitting him to enter. Koors puffed up his chest and led the way into Grefon’s suite. The door opened into a sitting room which was austere for the mansion. The floor was wooden as were the walls and both were elegant. The only furniture in the room was a pair of chairs with a small table between them. There were two doors off the sitting room, one on each side of the room. The door to the sleeping quarters was closed, but the door to the Lord Marshal’s study was open and the glow of a lantern showed on the floor.
Koors led Marak into the study and saluted. The study, by contrast, was quite busy. Grefon’s desk was a rich fargi wood, polished to a reflective surface, and quite massive. Three walls were lined with bookshelves, while the fourth held a couch, table and reading chair. Above the couch was a large wall map of Khadora. The Lord Marshal was at his desk and Marshal Garouk was sitting in a chair in front of the desk. Grefon indicated that the pair should enter and Marshal Garouk excused himself, closing the door as he left. The Lord Marshal waited patiently to discover the nature of the unusual visit.
&nb
sp; “Lord Marshal,” Cortain Koors began, “we have a disciplinary matter to discuss.”
Grefon shook his head and stared at the two men whom he knew to be at odds with each other. “Does this matter concern any of our guests?” the Lord Marshal asked.
“No, Lord Marshal, it concerns Squad Leader Marak,” declared Koors.
“If the matter is internal to Lituk Valley,” stated Grefon, “it should wait until the meeting days are over and our guests have returned home.”
“But it is quite grievous, Lord Marshal,” prompted the Cortain.
“I am sure you would not bother me if it were otherwise, Cortain Koors,” sighed Grefon. “Whatever the problem, it will have to wait. Punishments are public events and I will not have our guests distracted from their business with Lord Ridak. If it involves a death, bury the body and we will discuss it when the meeting days are over. You are both to report to me as soon as the last Lord leaves the estate. Until that time, you will both carry out your orders as they have been given. Dismissed.”
The two soldiers saluted and retreated to the sitting room, past Marshal Garouk and out the door. Koors muttered something under his breath and Marak took the opportunity to leave and check on his men at the Meeting Chamber. All four men were efficiently alert and Marak sprinted back to the barracks and into the officer’s communal room. Tagoro was still sitting where he was when Marak left.
“What happened?” questioned Tagoro. “You have barely been gone long enough for him to chew you out. Will it be slave duty?”
Marak sat down and stretched his legs out. “I won’t know until the meeting days are over,” explained Marak. “The Lord Marshal wants nothing to distract our guests and has put off hearing of the affair until they have left. At least I will have a few more days of freedom before Koors gets his long-awaited wish.”
“So, you think it will be the worst?” quizzed Tagoro.
“Depends on what you mean by the worst,” sighed Marak. “It will be slavery or death, but I am not sure which is worse. I think Koors will push for slavery so he can gloat over me every day.”
“I can’t believe it, Marak,” remarked Tagoro. “You knew the risks all along. How could you have gone over the fence?”
“How I managed to put it off for so long is what amazes me, my friend,” smiled Marak. “It is probably to your credit that I have resisted this long. This whole system of slavery is wrong and I could never last for long with it intact. I have not talked to my mother since I was fourteen. What type of cruel monsters can believe that is just or even acceptable? I kill for these people and I put my life in peril for them. Do they have the right to demand more of me than that?”
Tagoro shook his head sadly. “Why don’t you run away?” he posed. “You have a few days to plan it. I will help you.”
Marak smiled and placed his hand on Tagoro’s arm. “I am beginning to think as my mother thinks,” Marak responded. “I will not let you ruin your life for my sake; however, I am deeply touched by your friendship. I cannot run away and leave my mother behind to take my punishment. I will stay and accept the Lord Marshal’s decree. Now, I must get to bed. If I stray one hair from my duties for the rest of the meeting days, Koors will find some way to make my punishment more bitter than the lituk fruit. Good night, friend.”
Marak slept fitfully and awoke feeling as if he had not slept at all. He quickly cleaned up and donned a fresh uniform. Tagoro already had both squads assembled and ready and Marak led his men off to the mansion. All of the men of Koors Corte, including his own and Tagoro’s, looked at him differently this morning. Marak realized that they all knew and figured Rybak had purposely let it slip. He had no doubt that one of Rybak’s men had alerted the Squad Leader and Rybak ran immediately to Koors. Marak hoped none of the visitors learned of the problem. While he felt justified in what he had done, Lord Marshal Grefon was not at fault for the rules and Marak did not wish to have Grefon embarrassed by the incident.
Inside the mansion, nobody paid any particular attention to Marak, not even Grefon. The morning meeting centered around Lord Ridak’s desire to expand along the coast near Raven’s Point. This push could lead to battles with Lord Saycher of the Morgar Clan. Lord Saycher was a political ally of Lord Quillo, head of the Organila Clan and a member of the Lords Council. If Lord Quilo got the Lords Council involved in the affair, Lord Ridak would come out on the losing end. Different strategies were offered by each of the Clan Lords and their Marshals and Marak was surprised to find out that nobody even thought of negotiation as an option. Nor did anyone suggest driving a wedge between Lord Quilo and Lord Saycher before the advent of hostilities. The only thoughts expressed dealt with troop strength and from which estates to draw the armies.
The midday meal came and went and the discussion turned to expanding at River’s Bend to cut off Lord Saycher’s access to the river. Some thought this would hamper any help destined for the Morgar Clan that might be coming from the Council. Others thought it would open a second front and lead to total war. By the evening meal, Lord Ridak had shelved his expansion plans at Raven’s Point until he could give it more study.
The evening session dealt mostly with finances and commodities. Each Lord had a chance to describe which commodities were costing him too much and others suggested complex trading deals that could bring the cost of the commodities down. Eventually, Lord Ridak adjourned the meeting for the day and everyone filed out of the Meeting Chamber. Marak returned to the barracks and ordered the replacements for the inside guards. As he led the replacements into the entry foyer of the mansion, he saw Squad Leader Rybak emerging from Lord Marshal Grefon’s suite. Rybak either did not see Marak or pointedly ignored him. After making sure his men were in place, Marak returned to the barracks and went to bed.
All of the plans and discussions heard in the Meeting Chamber dulled Marak’s dread of slavery and he slept well. This was the last scheduled day of talks and the remote estate contingents should be leaving the next morning. The men of his Corte were still looking strangely at Marak this morning and he couldn’t tell if it was sorrow or just disappointment they were transmitting.
As he led his men towards their posts, Marak saw Rybak and Koors conversing outside one of the side doors of the mansion. He wasn’t sure what they were cooking up, but decided to push it out of his mind and concentrate on his duties. The men assigned as liaisons had pretty light duty so far and not even the men posted to the Meeting Chamber had any complaints. Marak had heard complimentary comments given to both Lord Ridak and Lord Marshal Grefon about his men’s efficiency and attentiveness. If it weren’t for his little escapade into the slave compound, this would have been a shining moment in Marak’s career.
The morning session picked up where the evening’s had ended and centered on commodities and trading. The afternoon session turned to matters that affected the remote estates, but not Lituk Valley. The only solid proposal to come out of the session, in Marak’s opinion, was Lord Ridak’s approval of a road between Fardale and Forest Deep to allow for grain shipments and wasooki shipments to pass between the two estates without having to go through Lituk Valley. Even that approval was hampered by the fact that other clans controlled some of the intervening land. Both Lord Lashendo of Fardale and Lord Horkad of Forest Deep vowed to commit whatever troops were necessary to get the road built over the other clans’ objections. Neither thought of the possibility that the intervening clans might actually benefit from the road and might be willing to participate in its building rather than fight to prevent it.
The talk finally turned to Fardale’s problems with the Chula. Lord Lashendo retold of his two attempts to gain the Sitari Valley as part of the estate and the disastrous results of both. Because of the Chula resistance, crop production of grain would be greatly reduced next year. Lord Lashendo stated that all of the tillable lands of Fardale were already used up and without the Sitari Valley he would have to default on contracts for next year. This statement did not sit well with Lord Ridak and
the discussion turned to ways to make up the shortfall. If the Situ failed to fulfill their contracts, they would lose a tremendous amount of trade and not just on the grain, but other contracts would also disappear. Khadorans had little faith in people who did not deliver according to their contracts. It was not considered dishonesty to default on a contract if you truly thought you would be able to deliver, but buyers chose to purchase from clans who delivered what was agreed to. If anyone thought the failure to deliver was intentional, war or dissolution of the clan could result. After it was determined that only Fardale had a chance at making up the shortfall in grain, Lord Ridak allowed Lord Lashendo to continue.
Some Marshals asked about the battles with the Chula and other Lords asked what the Chula were like. It was a red-faced Lord Lashendo who admitted he had never seen one and only one man had survived out of the two engagements. He did go on to reiterate his grand plan to exterminate the Chula by baiting them.
“It is time we discussed your plan for eradicating the Chula,” interrupted Lord Marshal Grefon. “I do not think you are ready to bait them. I have reviewed your troop strength with Marshal Garouk and discussed the matter with Lord Ridak. I plan to reinforce Fardale with a Corte from Lituk Valley before the trap is sprung. In the meantime, you should make no further efforts at clearing Sitari Valley.”
Lord Lashendo was visibly shaken to have the Lord Marshal dictate policy to him as if the Lord of Fardale was not capable of handling his own affairs, but he kept his mouth shut. With no avenue for discussion to continue on, Lord Ridak announced the end of the meetings and informed everyone that a feast had been prepared for them for this final evening. Everyone filed out of the room except for Lord Marshal Grefon.
Young Lord of Khadora Page 4