“An excellent tale,” smiled the Emperor. “Ah, to be free of this office for a journey such as that. All right, Lord Marak, here is my request. I want you to draw me a map of that central square. Label the palace and the temple and indicate the street you came into the square from.”
Lord Marak drew what was requested and slid the drawing to the Emperor. “I cannot guarantee that she arrived using the same street,” Lord Marak said, “but she will certainly have entered the square from the same direction.”
“That will be good enough for me,” declared the Emperor as a knock sounded on the door.
The door swung open, and Gunta and Mistake were allowed to enter. Two Imperial soldiers also entered. The Emperor dismissed the two soldiers. Gunta looked around the room warily, and Mistake appeared ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Lord Marak stood and beckoned them both to the desk.
“I apologize,” frowned the Emperor. “It did not occur to me until just now that your people might think that you are still in danger. I commend them on following your orders without question for their own safety.”
“Gunta, Mistake,” smiled Lord Marak, “I would like you to meet Emperor Bagora.”
Gunta promptly bowed, but Mistake appeared confused.
“You are not imprisoned any more?” asked Mistake.
“He certainly is not,” smiled the Emperor. “I asked him to summon you so that he might prove a point to me. Shouldn’t Gunta return to his quarters?” the Emperor quietly asked Lord Marak.
“There is no need for that,” answered Lord Marak as he realized that the Emperor was concerned about revealing the existence of Angragar to a mere soldier. “Gunta goes everywhere with me. He has been there, too.”
“Very well,” nodded the Emperor. “If you will take Gunta with you and walk to the far end of the room, I will spend some time alone with this young Fakaran.”
Lord Marak and Gunta walked the length of the room to where the reading chair was, while Mistake sat at the desk across from the Emperor.
“What happened?” Gunta asked. “The last we heard you were imprisoned.”
“I believe it was the mage called Aakuta,” whispered Lord Marak. “He blasted a whole clear through the wall of the prison. They had no place to keep me so the marshal brought me to the Emperor. I think he expected a quick decision of execution, but that is not how things went.”
“Obviously,” replied Gunta. “Are you still in trouble?”
“Not at all,” smiled Lord Marak. “Bringing me here gave me the chance to explain my side of things. It took a while, but the Emperor and the marshal now know that I was not the assassin. I like Bagora. He is an honest and decent man. I wish all of the lords were like him.”
“I was not sure the message to get Mistake was really from you,” stated Gunta. “We were ready for trouble when we entered here. You cannot imagine the relief I feel knowing that you are safe.”
“I do think Kaltara is watching over me,” smiled Lord Marak.
“The Chula god?” questioned Gunta.
“Our god,” corrected Lord Marak. “He is known to the Chula, the Sakovans, and the Qubari. I do not think those three peoples can be wrong in their beliefs. Have you had any luck in locating the real assassin?”
“None,” frowned Gunta. “Torak soldiers are watched wherever we go. None of the other clans will even talk to us. If we walk into a room, everyone else walks out. It is as if we are contagious.”
“So everybody still assumes that I was the assassin?” inquired the Torak lord.
“There has been no announcement to the contrary,” shrugged Gunta. “Perhaps you could talk the Emperor into setting the record straight.”
Lord Marak heard laughing from the other end of the room. He looked up and saw the Emperor waving for him to return. He touched Gunta on the elbow and returned to the Emperor’s desk.
“Her drawing is much better than yours, Lord Marak,” chuckled the Emperor.
“Angragar?” gasped Gunta. “Why are you drawing that?”
“You have proved your words, Lord Marak,” declared the Emperor. “I want to have more talks with you on this subject and others, but today is not the time for it. Have you considered buying a house here in Khadoratung?”
“I have never given it thought,” confessed the Torak lord.
“Do so,” suggested the Emperor. “If you want to change this country, you must be accessible to the Imperial Valley. In the meantime, your quarters here in the Imperial Palace will be available to you. I will see that the Torak clan is moved to better quarters after the assembly is over. You should not travel with just a squad for protection.”
“I appreciate that, Emperor Bagora,” smiled Lord Marak. “If there is nothing else at this time, I would like to let my people know that I am safe.”
“Of course, of course,” nodded the Emperor. “I should have done so long ago.”
“I have one more question,” chirped Mistake. “Do you know an Omungan general named Didyk?”
“Omungan?” frowned the Emperor. “I have heard his name mentioned in reports, but I have never met him. I could not imagine an Omungan general coming here, and I have never been south of the Kalatung Mountains. Why do you ask?”
“I heard he was in Khadoratung,” answered Mistake. “I thought maybe he was visiting you.”
“He is not,” declared the Emperor as he rang the bell.
The door opened and a soldier entered the room. He held the door for the leaving guests. As Lord Marak left the room, he heard the Emperor asking for his legal scholar.
Chapter 15
Changing the Rules
A loud knock on the door of the Torak quarters in the Imperial Palace echoed through the small suite. Botal opened the door to see Marshal Chack and several Imperial soldiers laden with weapons.
“We are delivering your weapons,” the marshal declared. “The tainted star will not be returned.”
Botal opened the door wider to let the soldiers in. They deposited the weapons on the table and left. Marshal Chack lingered and Lord Marak walked up to him.
“I apologize for my earlier actions, Lord Marak,” stated the marshal.
“No apology is necessary, Marshal,” replied Lord Marak. “You were performing your duties as you thought best.”
“While that is true,” Chack frowned, “there has been no announcement of your guilt or innocence, nor will there be. We never make such statements. I am afraid that most of the other lords will still act as if you are the assassin.”
“Can’t you make a statement so that Lord Marak is not ostracized?” asked Botal.
“No,” the marshal shook his head. “Until we find the assassin, we will not rule anyone out. I am convinced that you are not the assassin that we seek, Lord Marak, but if I made a statement that you were not a suspect, every other lord would demand a similar statement. It is just something that I cannot do.”
“I understand, Marshal Chack,” smiled Lord Marak. “I will learn to deal with the suspicions of the other lords. Thank you for taking the time to explain it to me.”
The marshal smiled weakly and nodded before leaving the suite.
“That is not right,” protested Mistake. “Word sure spread rapidly enough when you were thrown into the cell.”
“I will deal with it,” Lord Marak snapped before sighing and shaking his head with regret. “We must not be at each other’s throats over this matter. While there will be no formal statement from the marshal, I will still be walking around freely. No objective person would believe that the marshal is letting an assassin walk freely.”
“But they will still treat you as a pariah,” Gunta pointed out.
“They did before this incident,” shrugged Lord Marak. “Nothing has changed. Do you need an escort to leave the palace, Mistake?”
“No,” beamed the small thief as she pointed to a white pin on her clothes that identified her as an Imperial guest. “The marshal gave me this pin to wear. I can go anywhere I want in the palace now.”