“These female elves are not from Elvangar,” Eltor informed his friend. “In fact, they did not even know that they were elves. They come from a strange and distant land. Mistake claims to have been to Angragar.”
“Angragar?” echoed Caldal. “That is impossible. The ancient human city is hidden from all eyes.”
“All eyes except the Qubari,” retorted Mistake. “At least that was true until just recently, but now it is the Time of Calling. The Astor has risen, and I am his close friend.”
“Time of Calling?” echoed Caldal. “The Astor? These words gnaw at my memories, but I cannot place them.”
“They do not matter now,” interrupted Eltor. “If our only problem is getting past the reefs, Caldal and I can accomplish that.”
“How?” asked Mistake.
“We have done it before in strange waters,” offered Eltor. “One of us will swim the reef and find a passage. The other will guide the boat with a short sail.”
“If need be,” interjected Caldal who was now sitting erect, “we can walk the ship across the reef. It can be done.”
“So you are not going to stay in this cave and commit suicide?” grinned Mistake.
Caldal frowned and his eyes widened as he stared in the direction of Mistake’s voice. Finally he started laughing softly.
“It was I who talked Eltor into escaping the last time,” he admitted. “I guess it is in my blood to return to my home. I want very much to put this island behind me.”
“Hold your excitement for now,” warned Eltor. “While this plan has promise, we must remain prepared for failure. We were confident the last time. Remember?”
“Let there be no talk of failure,” interjected Mistake. “We all have great reasons to escape this land. We will follow our plan or die trying. None of us will be captured alive. Are we agreed on this?”
“Agreed,” Caldal said promptly as he reached out and grasped Mistake’s hand.
Eltor and MistyTrail repeated the oath and clasped hands with the others.
* * *
The Star of Sakova walked through the gates of Gatong. She had visited the city years ago as a young girl, but her memory of it was dim. The more recent memories of her escape from the assassins at the Academy of Magic sent a shudder through her. She had avoided entering the city on that trip when Antello had given Syman a signal not to enter. The memories sent a chill up her spine. It seemed so long ago, and yet it wasn’t. She felt a sudden urge to travel further north to visit the academy that had been her home. She pushed the thoughts from her mind and moved away from the gate before the Imperial Guards thought to question her.
Lyra walked to the marketplace while letting her mind wander over how she should proceed. Her eyes stared vacantly at the stalls as she walked slowly by, but she did not see anything. She wondered whether she should approach the mayor or the resident general. The mayor was technically the decision maker in most Omungan cities, but it was the general who actually controlled the troops. Without the support of the general, the mayor was nothing more than a figurehead, yet most generals would be loath to exert their power without the backing of the mayor. It was a circular question, and Lyra sighed in frustration.
“Are you alright?” asked a local woman.
Lyra started and turned to look at the woman. The woman appeared to be around her mother’s age and Lyra’s mind instant flashed to an image of Rhodella dying on the floor of the Academy of Magic. A tear instantly formed in the corner of her, and the woman put her arm comfortingly around Lyra.
“What troubles you, young one?” asked the woman. “If it is lack of food, I can spare what little I have. Come to my home.”
Lyra suddenly saw the stalls around her. While merchandise was abundant, the food stalls were bare. Her eyes roved over the passing citizens, and she saw the signs of famine in each and every one of them. She started to cry.
“Come, come, now,” urged the woman as she started guiding Lyra away from the marketplace. “I’ll get you a hot bowl of stew. It’s nothing fancy mind you, mostly scraps of whatever I could gather, but it will ease those hunger pains. There is no need to cry.”
Lyra was speechless as the woman guided her to a modest home. She found her mind replaying the images of the starving people in Duran rather than focusing on what she needed to do in Gatong. Before she knew it, the woman had seated her at a table and placed a bowl of stew before her.
“Eat now,” urged the woman. “Things will be better soon. You just need your strength. Where are you from?”
“I cannot eat this,” Lyra said while shaking her head. She pushed the bowl towards the woman. “I cannot take your food. I should be giving you food, not eating yours.”
Lyra started crying again and the woman moved around the table and placed her arm on Lyra’s shoulder.
“It’s alright,” the woman said soothingly. “I already ate today.”
“And what about tomorrow?” sobbed Lyra. “What will you eat when I have finished off your stew?”
“Tomorrow is another day,” shrugged the woman. “I will worry about it when it comes. Eat while it is hot.”
“No,” Lyra said adamantly as she rose.
Lyra opened her pack and began removing her trail rations. She piled them onto the table, as the woman’s eyes grew wide. When she had placed all of her food on the table, Lyra sat back down and started crying. The woman walked around the table and sat in her chair. She stared at the small pile of rations, and then gazed at Lyra.
“I don’t understand,” the woman finally said. “If it is not hunger that troubles you then why do you cry so much at the mention of food?”
“Because I have the ability to bring food here,” explained Lyra, “and I have not done so. Your people are starving because of me. I cannot do what is expected of me. I just can’t.”
“You have a story to tell,” the woman said softly. “My name is Shel, and I am a good listener. Tell me what troubles you.”
Lyra sniffed and gazed into the woman’s eyes. She tried to smile as she saw a bit of Rhodella in the woman’s face.
“I don’t know where to begin,” admitted the Star of Sakova.
“Start anywhere,” urged Shel. “Why have you come to Gatong?”
“I came to speak with the mayor or the general,” confided Lyra. “I am supposed to strike a bargain with them, but I cannot.”
“Strike a bargain with Mayor Robit and General Papper?” questioned Shel. “What can a young girl offer to men of power? Do not tell me that you are so desperate in life as to offer yourself? Do not do so, child. Whatever your problems are, we can work them out. Tell me what your needs are.”
Lyra wiped the tears from her eyes and stared at the woman. She took a few moments to compose herself before speaking. Shel waited patiently.
“My journey here concerns the needs of the citizens of Gatong,” Lyra declared. “I have the ability to send large quantities of food into the city. That is what I have come to offer to the mayor.”
Shel looked quizzically at the young woman. Her eyes narrowed appraisingly as she studied Lyra’s face.
“But you want something in return for the food?” asked Shel. “What is it that you seek from Gatong?”
“That was the plan,” admitted Lyra, “but I cannot do it. I should have sent someone else to negotiate.”
“And why can’t you do it?” asked Shel. “The people of Gatong are starving. If you have food to share, you must do so.”
“And I will,” promised Lyra. “I would not be human if I refused to deliver the food after seeing the citizens of Gatong.”
“Then everything is wonderful,” probed Shel. “Why do I suspect that you see this gift as a failure for some reason?”
“Because it is a failure,” explained Lyra. “The food that will be delivered had a price attached to it, but I cannot ask for payment now. Excuse me, please.”
Lyra walked to the door of the house and stepped outside. She inhaled deeply as she wove an air tunnel and directed it towards the sea. It took her a few minutes to locate Emperor Marak’s ship off the coast, but she quickly delivered the order to bring the food into port. When she turned to reenter the house, she found Shel standing behind her.