Young Lord of Khadora (9 page)

The next section was bizarre. It dealt with a people called Motangans, who live on a large island across the sea. Most of the commentary was tales from seaman who had either visited the island or sailed close to it. The Motangans were reportedly large apes with the intelligence of men. Marak read about grandiose ape cities and a civilization more advanced than Khadora. The Cortain wondered why, if the stories were true, the Motangans had never sailed to Khadora. If their civilization were so advanced, certainly they would have appeared on the shores and in the ports by now.

Squad Leader Tagoro interrupted Marak’s reading and Marak realized it was almost dark already.

“If you are planning to read through the night,” chuckled Tagoro, “I should bring you a lantern. A runner brought an invitation for you to dine with the Lord Marshal tonight. You had better hurry if you don’t want to be late.”

Marak rose and stretched his muscles. “Thanks, Tagoro,” smiled Marak. “I guess I lost track of time. I thought my eyes were getting tired, but it was probably the failing light.”

Marak explained some of what he had read as he and Tagoro walked back to the barracks. Marak put on a clean uniform and hurried to the mansion. A servant was waiting for him at the door and led him to a small, informal dining room. As Marak was shown in, the Lord Marshal rose and greeted him.

“Ah, our new Cortain. Welcome,” greeted Grefon. “I see you brought the book back already. You must be a fast reader.”

“Thank you, Lord Marshal,” answered Marak. “I guess I just have a problem putting a book down.”

Marak handed the book back to the Lord Marshal and Grefon grinned. He did not normally dine with a Cortain, not even a new one, but he was determined to put Marak’s attitude right before this buttering went any further.

“So, are you an expert on the Chula now?” quizzed Grefon as the servants brought out bowls of soup with large noodles and thin slices of clova meat.

“Certainly not on what is in this book,” chuckled Marak. “The sections on the other indigenous peoples were actually more interesting.”

Grefon shook his head as he savored the spicy broth. Marak could dance around all evening with vague generalities about the book, but the Lord Marshal was not going to allow it. “I think it rather strange that the Chula have even bothered to cross the Kalatung Mountains to harass us, don’t you?”

Marak found that the large noodles were actually packed with wasooki and almost choked on one when the Lord Marshal spoke. “Actually, Lord Marshal,” gasped Marak, “I didn’t read anything about the Chula crossing the mountains. The author indicates that they have always resided here. You are probably thinking about the Omunga. They ride large birds and live on the other side of the Kalatungs.”

“How do you know about the Omunga?” queried Grefon skeptically.

“They are described in the book you lent me,” replied the confused Cortain. “I hope I did not transgress, but I couldn’t put the book down and read the whole thing.”

“Preposterous!” exclaimed the Lord Marshal. “Look, Marak, I do not like my soldiers to butter up to me. You may be a slippery devil, but there is no need to continue this charade. I know why you borrowed the book and it will not work. I do treat my men with respect, but I also treat them equally. You will gain no favor with your ploys, so do not attempt them again.”

Marak put down his spoon and stood. “Lord Marshal,” he stated indignantly, “I appreciate the loan of your book and the invitation to dinner, but I will not have my word questioned. If you take my desire to know as much as I can about an enemy who may soon slaughter my men as an attempt to butter you, then you have certainly taken the wrong meaning to my actions. How much is your favor worth to a dead man? You are sending me and my men into Sitari Valley as bait. No one expects us to return, but I will do everything in my power to make sure my men do return. If the information can be found in a book or through the interrogation of a prisoner, what does it matter, as long as the needed information is gained?”

The Lord Marshal stared at his new Cortain in wonderment. If Marak was putting on a show, it was certainly a good one. Grefon decided that he needed to know what made Marak different from his other men.

“Sit,” ordered the Lord Marshal. “I have invited you to dinner, not a brawl. Tell me what you have read in the book I lent you.”

Marak sat and recited the stories he had read as the servants brought plates of rare wasooki in clam sauce and some type of grilled fish that Marak savored. By the time the servants were serving a lituk-flavored frozen cream, Marak had finished his recitation. Grefon smiled freely as he listened. He had read the volume himself only days ago when he was informed of the massacre in the Sitari Valley. The Cortain’s retention and understanding were excellent. Grefon began to wonder who the boy’s father might have been. The type of initiative the Cortain had shown was more typical of a Lord’s son than the son of a soil mage. Very few soldiers thought beyond the next chance to get to a tavern and that included most officers.

“I owe you an apology, Cortain,” offered the Lord Marshal. “I am so used to dealing with a different mentality that at times I forget people can be eager to learn new things. My library is available to you at all times. Make use of it. I do want you to know my feelings about Sitari Valley, though. I wanted you promoted to Cortain specifically to send you into Sitari Valley. My goal is not to send a Corte to its death. Your men are the best trained men we have and I think it is because you have managed to push them beyond what is normally taught.”

Grefon paused to finish his frozen cream and Marak took the opportunity to do the same. This was not the type of meal that was offered in the barracks and Marak didn’t want to miss a taste of it.

“I know about your private practice area,” smiled the Lord Marshal, “and I approve. Your men are the only chance we have of sending a Corte into Sitari Valley and getting them back out again. That is why you were promoted. I want your men to survive as much as you do and I will do whatever I can to make that happen. If you want to equip your men with those nasty-looking double-edged swords, do it. Do whatever you must to bring them back alive.”

It was Marak’s turn to stare in amazement. The Lord Marshal must have known about everything he thought he was keeping secret. He remembered seeing Rybak come out of Grefon’s study during the meeting days and began to wonder if the Lord Marshal had used Rybak to force Koors to retire. Rybak may very well be the Lord Marshal’s eyes and ears in Marak’s Corte, even now. It appeared that the author of
Indigenous Peoples of Khadora
was not the only teacher Marak had this day and Marak intended to be a good student. He would learn by observing the Lord Marshal’s moves as much as he would from reading a book.

“I will, Lord Marshal,” declared Cortain Marak. “My men will survive or I will not return. If you have any more books on the Chula, I would appreciate seeing them.”

Grefon nodded grimly and led Marak to his study. Cortain Marak was amazed at the variety of reading material Grefon had accumulated. Not all of it was limited to warfare and military strategies. The Lord Marshal had just as good a selection of tomes pertaining to finance, commodities and ancestry. Loaded with three volumes, Marak returned to his barracks to read.

For hours Marak plowed through the books searching for references on the Chula. There were many passages that mentioned the cat people, but very little solid information. It appeared that the Chula kept pretty much to themselves and did not make any attempt to integrate into Khadoran society. His mind kept flashing back to the stories told by the Fardale soldiers, trying to pick up anything that he had heard which might be more revealing now that he had some knowledge of the people who were being described. Nothing came to him and Marak fell asleep with a book in his lap.

Marak dreamed of battles between giant tigers and massive spiders where the human riders were the spoils for the insidious creatures. The battles raged on until there were no humans and the creature fought each other just to be victorious. The scene changed to boatloads of intelligent apes landing on some distant shore and savagely conquering the bird people. The apes soon learned to control the tall, running birds and mounted them just like the Omungans before them. Thousands of huge birds trampled over the Kalatung Mountains bearing ferocious apes and began attacking the Situ. One of the apes rode right into Marak’s barracks while the men were asleep and began killing and eating them. One of his men, he was not sure which one, managed to hurl an Omunga star into the ape’s forehead and killed it. The men, thinking they were safe, went back to bed. The huge riderless bird suddenly went around and pecked the remaining men to death. The bird broke down the door to Marak’s room and started pecking at him. He fought back, but the bird kept pecking. Finally, he reached out and seized the bird’s beak and heard it issue a human scream.

“Don’t kill me,” shouted the mansion servant. “I’m just trying to deliver a message.”

Marak sat up and stared at the frightened servant. “I’m sorry,” Marak groggily replied. “I was dreaming. What message? What time is it?”

“I don’t know the time,” shuddered the servant, “but the Lord Marshal wants you in the Meeting Chamber right away. He is in there with Lord Ridak and neither one of them is the least bit happy. They’re yelling and ranting and the Lord Marshal says that you better get there before I even tell you you’re wanted.”

Marak could not make sense out of the servant’s nervous speech, but one thing came through clearly. The two most powerful people in the Situ Clan wanted him and he was not going to keep them waiting.

Cortain Marak quickly dressed and ran to the Meeting Chamber. He heard Lord Ridak’s shouting voice while he was still in the entry foyer. Entering the Meeting Chamber, he saw Lord Ridak, Lord Marshal Grefon, and a Squad Leader whom he recognized from the feast as being from Fardale.

Lord Marshal Grefon waved Marak over to where the Situ Lord and the Squad Leader were talking. “We have a problem, Cortain Marak,” greeted the Lord Marshal.

“A problem?,” screamed Lord Ridak. “We have a disaster. The Situ will be ruined. We are not talking about missing the deadlines for a few contracts anymore. We are about to violate every contract that has been made with Lord Lashendo. Nobody will ever trade with us again. We will have to devote our entire energies to becoming self-sufficient instead of expanding.”

The Lord Marshal had given up on trying to calm Lord Ridak and gently led Cortain Marak to a corner to explain the problem. “Lord Lashendo decided he did not need to wait for your Corte,” explained the Lord Marshal. “He sent a squad into the Sitari Valley to bait the Chula yesterday. Last night one of the guards saw two tigers leaving the walled compound and went to report the incident to Marshal Garouk. He found the Marshal beheaded and a meat cleaver lying beside him. The guard sounded the alarm and went to awaken Lord Lashendo. He, too, was beheaded.”

Grefon shook his head and glanced back at Lord Ridak, who was finally lowering his voice. “All of the Lectains and all of the Cortains were also murdered in their sleep. Squad Leader Zorkil here is the highest-ranking man left in the Army of Fardale. None of the domestic staff were harmed, not even Bursar Tachora. No other Army personnel were harmed.”

“It would appear that the Chula have a liberal definition of leader,” noted Marak. “Have they made any attempts to attack Fardale since the murders?”

Lord Ridak and Squad Leader Zorkil walked over to join the Lord Marshal’s discussion. Lord Ridak’s color was returning to normal rather than the bright red he was sporting when Marak walked in.

“Not at the time I left the estate,” offered Squad Leader Zorkil. “The men have their defenses ready, but if they can get in unseen and wipe out our leaders, I don’t see how any defenses are going to work. Most of the men were ready to escort me to Lituk Valley.”

“They are scared and leaderless,” interrupted Lord Marshal Grefon. “We must replace Lord Lashendo immediately and reinforce their garrison. Cortain, I am afraid you will not have the luxury of the two weeks I promised you. Your Corte will leave for Fardale as soon as Lord Ridak selects the new Lord of Fardale.”

“And who will I find to send?” stormed Lord Ridak. “Lord Wernik of Stony Brook? Perhaps Lord Caruko of River’s Bend? Everyone knows about the troubles Lord Lashendo has been having with the Chula and the threat they made. They are not fools. When they find out I am looking for a replacement for Lord Lashendo, they will figure it out.”

“You are the Lord of the Situ,” informed the Lord Marshal. “You have only to point your finger and say, 'go'. None of them will refuse you. Choose whom you think is best and Cortain Marak will escort him with an entire Corte in the morning.”

“Oh, they’ll go all right,” snipped Lord Ridak, “but what will they do when they get there? They will devote the entire resources of Fardale to protecting themselves while their own estates are deteriorating.”

“Send one of the Seneschals,” suggested Marak. “They have experience in leading people and are familiar with the running of an estate.”

“Perhaps Bursar Tachora can take over,” offered Lord Marshal Grefon.

“Bursar Tachora is an incompetent fool,” worried Lord Ridak. “He was good in his day, but that was twenty years ago. The old fool can barely find his bed and the old codger chose a woman as his assistant. Imagine, a woman to handle finances! That shows what a waste the man is.”

“Squad Leader Zorkil,” ordered the Lord Marshal, “you have reported and there is no reason for you to remain during the discussion. You will find a bed in the first barracks on your right as you leave the mansion. Get some sleep because you will be returning with Cortain Marak in the morning.”

Zorkil saluted and shuffled out of the Meeting Chamber. “There is no need for him to hear our discussions on the weakness of Fardale leaders,” stated Grefon. “Perhaps Marak has the right thought. Choose the best Seneschal and make him a Lord. He will be so thrilled about the promotion that he will strive to his best.”