Young Lord of Khadora (24 page)

“Great!” exclaimed Lord Marak. “I want to accomplish the Vows of Service before morning. When the emissary arrives we can jointly tell them we have solved our differences.”

“I will give my Vows now,” declared Lord Burdine. “After you have accepted the Vows from my escort, they will take you to Glendale to complete the process.”

Lord Marshal Grefon hurried into Lord Ridak’s study where the Lord of Lituk Valley was plowing through a pile of reports.

“Lord Ridak,” interrupted Lord Marshal Grefon, “I think we have a problem.”

Lord Ridak was annoyed at the interruption. He hated going through the reports, but the less interruptions he had, the sooner he would be done with the task. “What is it Grefon?” snarled the Lord of the Situ Clan. “Has another of your runners been killed by bandits?”

“Not exactly,” stiffened the Lord Marshal. “I thought you might be interested in a report from one of our couriers. He ran into a Corte of Imperial troops escorting an emissary from the Lords Council.”

The statement piqued Lord Ridak’s interest. It was not often that anyone from the Lords Council came this far from the capital. “Where was he heading?” Lord Ridak inquired.

“He was bound for Watula Valley,” offered Lord Marshal Grefon. “There is trouble with a border dispute involving the Sorgan and Litari Clans.”

Lord Ridak knew that border disputes in those frontier lands were continual, but they seldom involved a mediator from the Lords Council. Normally they were resolved by force with little recourse to the loser. “So, the Sorgan and Litari are fighting over their border,” commented Lord Ridak. “It is unusual for them to request a mediator, but it is not something that requires my immediate attention. At least let me finish these infernal reports and we can discuss the ramifications of your information.”

“They are not squabbling between themselves,” insisted Lord Marshal Grefon. “They are squabbling over Fardale. Both Clans have filed grievances with the Lords Council over Fardale transgressing their borders.”

“What?” shouted Lord Ridak. “What is that fool of yours doing? I have plans to expand Fardale next year and I do not want a decree from the Lords Council to set the boundaries in stone. This is all your fault, Grefon. I would have been better off leaving Fardale without a Lord than sending in some child who starts a war with his neighbors as soon as he gets there.”

“That is the part I don’t understand,” admitted Lord Marshal Grefon. “Marak is not the aggressive type. He is an excellent warrior and a natural born leader, but he has always given the enemy too much leeway. I cannot believe that he is pushing his boundaries into either of the other Clans.”

“What are you suggesting?” quizzed Lord Ridak. “Why else would the Sorgans and Litari file grievances with the Lords Council?”

“I don’t know,” conceded Grefon. “Neither of them is a member of the Lords Council, so the request for a mediator indicates that the grievance is severe and could lead to regional conflict.”

“Perhaps,” suggested Lord Ridak, “they are afraid that Marak will call on us for help. Neither of them could hope to stand up to the Situ Clan.”

“Even if they worked together,” declared Lord Marshal Grefon, “they would not stand a chance against us and they know it. I am concerned that the bandits who have been blocking our communications might not be bandits at all.”

“Wait just one minute,” interrupted Lord Ridak. “What do the bandits have to do with what we are talking about? Stay on one problem at a time, Grefon.”

“I see it as the same problem,” Grefon sighed exasperatingly. “If Watula Valley intentionally cut off our communications with Fardale and then filed a grievance about a border dispute with Fardale, what would that suggest to you?”

“That greedy son of a Sorgan!” exclaimed Lord Ridak. “Lord Quavry has goaded Marak into violating his border and now he is going to get official sanction for a new border advantageous to himself. Well, I will not sit by and allow this to happen. Ready the Army, Lord Marshal. We should have wiped out the Sorgans a long time ago.”

“I don’t think that is the answer,” insisted Lord Marshal Grefon. “I know the Marshal of the Sorgan Clan, Marshal Yenga. He is a brilliant strategist and he would not be fool enough to be in the middle of a war when the emissary arrived. Whatever casualties Fardale has incurred, the battle is long over. What is important, though, is that we have a say in the negotiations with the emissary from the Lords Council. We can not allow Marak to bargain away our land.”

“When will the emissary reach Watula Valley?” inquired Lord Ridak.

“There was a bridge collapse and they have been delayed,” smiled Lord Marshal Grefon, “or they would have been there already. As it is, they will not get there until morning.”

“Very well,” advised Lord Ridak, “you will travel with the emissary to Watula Valley. You can leave immediately and ride until you reach their camp. With the Imperial escort, you will not need one of your own. You can bring back Marak’s Corte as an escort when you return.”

“As you command, Lord Ridak,” Lord Marshal Grefon agreed as Lord Ridak scribbled a note and presented it to his Lord Marshal.

“This gives you my authorization to speak on my behalf regarding Fardale,” Lord Ridak said. “Make sure my lands remain as they were before you talked me into putting your boy in charge.”

Lord Marshal Grefon stiffened at the accusation and he saluted mechanically as he left. He nearly bumped into the Seneschal and a wealthy merchant as he exited the Lord’s study. He mumbled an apology and made his way to his suite to prepare for his journey.

Lord Ridak sighed as he looked up at the new interruption, the Seneschal and some young merchant so bejeweled with gems that he appeared gaudy.

“Pardon the interruption, Lord Ridak,” the Seneschal groveled, “but I have a most lucrative offer you should hear. This merchant has a market for mages. He is particularly interested in soil mages, but he is willing to consider whatever we have. We have negotiated price and he is willing to pay triple the going rate. I thought you should be notified.”

Lord Ridak rubbed his greedy little hands together. He already had more mages than he needed, not that they were much good for anything, anyway. Most of the time they failed to live up to their abilities. If his conquest of Morgar was successful in the Fall, Lituk Valley would have more mages than he cared to house.

“That is an acceptable price,” agreed Lord Ridak. “How many mages are you looking for?”

“As many as I can get, My Lord,” grinned the merchant. “I have a fool client who values the prestige of owning mages more than his money.”

“A fool, indeed,” snickered Lord Ridak. “I will need to keep two of each discipline to make sure our crops are cared for, but you may purchase the rest. That will be a healthy number of mages. Are you prepared to pay for that many?”

“I am, indeed, My Lord,” grinned the gaudy merchant. “I have taken the liberty of having your Seneschal draw up the documents for each of your mages. If you would care to sign them now, we can retire to his office and conclude our business without the need to trouble you further.”

Lord Ridak nodded absently as he took the pile of papers and started signing them. He suddenly paused as he was signing the document for the mage, Glenda, Marak’s mother. He had planned on using her as leverage in case the young pup got out of hand. He rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. It was needless, he finally decided. No doubt, Lord Marshal Grefon would return with Marak’s head in a basket, anyway. Still, just to make sure they were never reunited . . .

“These sales are conditional,” declared Lord Ridak. “I will only allow the sale to go through if you promise that no one in Lituk Valley will know where you are taking the slaves. I do not want their future location known here.”

“As you wish, My Lord,” the merchant readily agreed. “I would not want anyone to know of my client, anyway. Some other merchant might find out about him and try to cut me out.”

“Excellent,” laughed Lord Ridak as he finished signing the pack of papers. “Remember to leave me two of each discipline. Destroy the remaining contracts after the merchant leaves.”

“I will make sure of it,” promised the Seneschal.

The Seneschal and the merchant bowed their way out of Lord Ridak’s study and hurried back to the Seneschal’s office. Lord Ridak returned to his reports with a smile on his lips. A healthy unexpected profit was always a delight to Lord Ridak. Even the trouble out at Fardale had a silver lining. With any luck at all, Lord Ridak would be rid of Marak and still not be blamed for the unfulfilled contracts. He could now point to the direct intervention of the Lords Council to attest to Marak’s incompetence. It was too late in the growing season for anyone to expect him to recover the fields now. Lord Marshal Grefon would know how to handle the emissary and Lord Quavry.

Lord Marshal Grefon tied his pack to his horse and mounted for the ride to meet the emissary. He gazed at the commotion in the courtyard where the gaudy merchant was loading slaves into his four wagons. He recognized Marak’s mother as one of the slaves who was being sold and sighed. Marak had been a good little soldier until he got involved with Fardale. Now, Grefon knew, Marak would deteriorate rapidly. His mother, Glenda, was probably the only thing that had kept Marak in tow. When he found out that she had been sold he would be livid. Well, Grefon did not have time to worry about the little people. He had to get himself out to Watula Valley and save the boundaries of his future estate and if Marak got crushed in the dealing, that was part of playing politics. He should have remained a good little soldier.

* * *

Lord Zawbry of the Ragatha Clan sat in his study in Woodville. The Marshal of Woodville sat across the desk from him biting his nails. “Are you sure the emissary is heading for Watula Valley?” asked Lord Zawbry.

“I’m certain,” answered Marshal Tingo. “The Imperial troops had nothing to hide. Whatever their mission, the entire nation will know about the affair in a few days, anyway. There is nothing secret about a Lords Council mediator. They freely told me about the border dispute. Both the Sorgan and the Litari claim to have had their borders violated by the new Lord of Fardale.”

“This new Lord is young and could be impetuous,” granted Lord Zawbry, “but he did not appear to be aggressive in your other reports.”

“I doubt that he is,” laughed Marshal Tingo. “This is typical behavior for the Litari. They hope to bully the young Lord into giving up concessions by bringing in the Lords Council. We know the Sorgan have blocked Marak’s communication with Lituk Valley. That is probably why the Litari let the Sorgan in on the deal. The Litari territory is such that they could not block Marak’s communications without Sorgan help.”

“It is typical of the Litari,” agreed Lord Zawbry. “They tried to pen us up in hopes that we would pick up and leave Woodville. Only the agreement with the Situ saved us. It is yet another reason for the Litari to go after the new Lord.”

“What are we going to do about it?” inquired Marshal Tingo.

“Do?” puzzled Lord Zawbry. “Why should we do anything about it? We are not allies of the Situ. Let them deal with their own problems.”

“Their problems could quickly become our problem,” informed Marshal Tingo. “If the Litari gain some of Fardale, they may be able to shut off our access again. I am sure that is what they are after.”

The Lord of Woodville stared at his desk and the Marshal was not sure if the Lord had heard him. “If we can’t get through Fardale,” continued Marshal Tingo, “we can not move our goods to market.”

“I know, I know,” snapped Lord Zawbry. “Give me a minute to think of the consequences of this situation.”

Marshal Tingo nervously tugged at another nail and wished he was back in his office. Lord Zawbry became moodier every day. He wondered if something was bothering the Lord, something other than the Litari troubles.

“We can not allow the Litari to cut off our access to the rest of the world,” decided Lord Zawbry. “Once the emissary makes his decision, it will be too late for us to act. We need to get a message to Lord Sevrin right away.”

“Informing the Lord of the Ragatha Clan is an excellent idea,” echoed Marshal Tingo, “but how will that help us with the Litari? The Situ have executed an agreement with us allowing for our access. Surely the mediator will not make any boundary changes which would affect that agreement.”

“Of course he will,” lectured Lord Zawbry. “That is the whole purpose of the mediation. That is precisely what Lord Burdine is after and he will fight to get it. If we get a message to Lord Sevrin, we can tell him to expect a message from us every ten days. If he does not receive a message during a ten day period, he will know that our access has been cut off and he will send troops to reopen it.”

“I was more concerned with the Litari seizing all of Fardale,” apologized Marshal Tingo. “I did not think of the Litari settling for a small strip which would deny us access.”

“That is why I am the Lord and you are the Marshal,” chided Lord Zawbry.

“If we have to attack the Litari to gain access to the outside,” suggested Marshal Tingo, “we should push through the heart of Glendale rather than Fardale. Even though we will be fighting the Litari, the Situ in Fardale could get mixed up in the battle and we don’t need another enemy.”

“That makes sense,” agreed the Lord of Woodville. “It would be better if we could attend the meeting with the emissary and ensure that our access stays open.”

“Couldn’t we attend as friends of Fardale?” asked Marshal Tingo. “There are two Lords ganging up on Fardale. I think our presence might help the young Lord avoid losing too much land.”

“That is an excellent idea,” granted Lord Zawbry. “Of course, I don’t dare go myself. Putting myself in the mansion of the Sorgans is a sure way to lose more than we could gain by attending. You shall be Woodville’s representative. Send that message off to Lord Sevrin and then go to Fardale and present yourself to the new Lord. Explain that you will accompany him to the meeting and speak on his behalf.”