“But you have already correctly prophesized that he will refuse action on the matter,” smiled Alazar. “I have already discussed the matter with him, but as always, he would rather sit in luxury in the capital and pretend that anything outside the city does not matter. You will get no satisfaction from him.”
“Then we are doomed,” sighed the fat general.
“How can you give up on your country so easily?” stormed Alazar. “Think like a general. Doharte is merely an obstacle to victory. Doesn’t the general know how to remove obstacles?”
General Kapla struggled forward in his chair and panted with the exertion. “You can’t be suggesting what I think you are,” he whispered. “Assassination means death. I would be caught. It is impossible.”
“Who would suspect you?” smiled the First Minister. “You are not even in the running for the position of Minister of Defense. Of course, after it was over, I would strongly suggest your appointment to the Katana. He would never refuse me.”
“But someone could squeal,” General Kapla protested. “Whoever I got to do it could demand more money or become dissatisfied with the deal.”
“Do not obtain the assistance of anyone,” instructed Alazar. “Do it yourself and you will be safe. I will provide the alibi for you. I will swear that when he died, you and I were discussing the Sakovan problem. You cannot have a better alibi than the First Minister.”
General Kapla nodded nervously. Assassination was considered cowardly and despicable in Omungan society. The punishment was public brutal death at the hands of the citizens. The people would literally pull the offenders body apart with their hands. In addition, the entire lineage of the offenders would be killed.
“When you are Minister of Defense,” Alazar continued, “we will lay out the plan to exterminate the Sakovans. Whatever Lord Marak does at that point, we will not have to worry about attack from both sides.”
“What about the Katana?” inquired General Kapla. “He still will not sanction a war with Khadora and he cannot be assassinated. No weapon would ever get past his Monitors and magic does not affect him.”
“Let me worry about the Katana,” smirked Alazar as he moved to let the general out of his office. “With you on the Katana’s Council, he will sanction the war against Sakova. We will worry about Lord Marak when the Sakovans are finished.”
The First Minister congratulated himself after the general left. For years he had been planning to take over the country and finally he had found the right set of circumstances to put the plan into action. The general was ambitious and a fool. Anyone who could analyze data would have seen that Lord Marak was insignificant and not a threat to Omunga. The Khadoran Lord could barely keep his own clan together and most of the other Lords were already plotting to do away with him. The Sakovan threat was so fabricated that even the myopic Katana wouldn’t buy into it. What really mattered was galvanizing the army to face an external threat so that when Alazar seized power they would not react as they were supposed to. The army was the stabilizing force in Omunga. No soldier was ever permitted to become Katana and the army was to prohibit anyone else from taking power by force.
The First Minister sat at his desk with his feet on the polished surface. The problem with the designers of the Omungan government is that they had never foreseen someone with the determination of himself, Alazar chuckled. Once the new Minister of Defense was installed, he would be forced to protect Alazar or face the penalty for assassination. The First Minister had no doubt which option General Kapla would decide on.
There was still the problem of killing the Katana though. The general was not quite correct about the protections on the nation’s leader. He could be killed by magic, but not by any mage that served him. Each mage in the service of the Katana, including the First Minister, was required to accept a spell, which effectively prohibited him from casting any offensive spell intended to harm the Holy Katana. Of course a mage not so sworn, could cast the offensive spell, but the Katana also had impressive defensive shields around him at all times. It would take a Master to accomplish the deed and not just any Master, but one who was powerful enough to blast through the shields so swiftly that there would not be any time for the Monitors to react. Even then, the assassin would never survive to leave the palace.
This is where Klaarg was failing him. The fool assassin had failed to produce either the brother or the daughter needed to make Malafar do his bidding. He had not managed to provoke any Sakovan attacks on Omungan citizens yet either. Alazar rose and started pacing. He still had to galvanize the Katana’s Council to back him as the next Katana, for that was how the Katanas were chosen. If the Sakovans were to start attacking, he would be seen as a visionary and be readily backed, especially when Malafar, the Sakovan, assassinated the Katana.
The First Minister stopped in front of the wall map and stared at it. He needed to get as many of the Ministers behind him as was possible. Minister of the Economy. Minister of Agriculture. Minister of Trade. It all came down to money and crops. Alazar’s black eyes twinkled as he looked at the map and saw his future.
Alazar moved swiftly to the small room off of his office and stripped off his crimson robe. He grabbed a long tattered black robe from the closet and slid it on. He reached into the pocket and withdrew a cloth eye patch and slid it on, adjusting the wide cloth strap so it covered his scar. He knotted up his long black hair and stuffed it into a seaman’s cap. Next he removed his fine court shoes and put on a pair of scuffed sandals. As a finishing touch, he treated his goatee, eyebrows, and any other exposed hair with a dusting of fine gray powder.
Alazar moved to the mirror and inspected himself. He smirked at the reflection. Razala! It had been some time since Razala had shown his face in Okata. The capital of Omunga was a den of many vipers and Razala knew how to find them. He opened a chest and extracted several bags of gold and stuffed them in his pockets. With a practiced limp, Razala returned to the office of the First Minister of Omunga and flipped the lever for the secret passageway. The bookcase slid silently open and Razala entered the dark corridor.
The secret passageway ended in a potter’s shed in the public garden just outside the palace walls. The shed had not been in use for many years and everything in it was covered with dust except the floor. Klaarg was efficient in keeping the floor clean so that no sign of passing would be noticed should someone happen to visit the abandoned building.
Razala peered through the spy hole in the shed door. It was already dark out and nothing moved in the garden. He quietly opened the door and stepped into the garden. Excitement wound its way through Razala as it always did when he used one of his disguises. Strange he thought, but he would miss this part of his scheming when he became Katana.
Razala limped out of the garden and onto the city streets. He kept to the darkness and those few souls out and about, gave the ominous looking sailor a wide berth. Razala was a tall man and although he looked old and lame, the maliciousness of his face let others know he was not to be crossed.
The streets in the vicinity of the palace were fine homes and, unfortunately for Razala, well lit. He was forced into the light more times than he cared for, but he soon limped his way out of the area into a less opulent section of the city. He picked up his pace here, the limp becoming less pronounced, until he neared the waterfront. The waterfront was lined with taverns, shops, and warehouses with rundown homes behind them. One could purchase anything in this seedy area of town. The trick lies in getting your purchase home without becoming victim to a pickpocket or thief.