“Another clan with a boundary dispute,” nodded the Emperor. “Is Lord Padro also making the rounds among his neighbors?”
“Not exactly,” answered Fisher. “Lord Padro is certainly visiting other clans, but not in the south. I learned from Katzu that the Rican lord has been busy visiting some old enemies of yours. He saw Lord Padro at the Pikata estate. He also heard that the Rican lord had already been to see the Vessi, Glamaraldi, and Lejune clans.”
“The four clans that hosted the Jiadin,” nodded the Emperor. “Now what Lord Burdine said makes sense. He said that Lord Sydar told him that clans that were already on my poor side would be the ones to ask for the vote. So Lord Padro is definitely one of the plotters.”
“So it seems,” nodded Fisher. “What I haven’t been able to find out is who else is involved. I can find out who was visited, but not what they talked about or agreed to.”
“You have found out a great deal already,” smiled Marak.
“And what are you going to do with the information now that you have it?” asked the spy.
“I am not sure,” Marak admitted. “It helps knowing the major players, but Khadora cannot afford this type of nonsense right now. The Time of Cleansing is coming very soon. I can feel it.”
“I could eliminate a few of the players for you,” suggested Fisher.
“No,” the Torak shook his head. “That is not the way to build unity. I want to make these rebellious lords understand that there are greater things at stake than their estates. We need every fighter we can find, and I do not plan to turn any of them away.”
“I understand,” shrugged Fisher, “but if you change your mind, let me know.”
“You have such confidence in yourself,” chuckled Marak. “Assassinating a clan lord is not an easy task, yet you offer it so easily.”
“I understand what is at stake,” Fisher replied seriously. “The odds of any of us surviving this coming war are slim. What difference does it make if my contribution comes before the war or during it? The offer is a serious one.”
“And I will take it as such,” Marak nodded soberly. “Let me try to find a better approach first. If I cannot dissuade these lords within the bounds of the law, then we shall talk again about this matter.”
“You have already called for an Assembly of Lords,” Fisher pointed out. “This is likely to be the last one before the fighting starts. Whatever you have planned, you must do it soon.”
“Agreed,” nodded Emperor Marak. “It must be resolved at that meeting.”
“Do you want me to continue pursuing this matter?” asked Fisher.
“No,” Marak shook his head. “I think you have identified the major players. If I can find a way to handle them, the rest will fall into line. Have we heard from Aakuta?”
“Not a word,” frowned Fisher. “I fear the worst. I do have another man on the Island of Darkness now. He will not provide a great deal of intelligence, but he should be able to notify us when the ships leave port.”
“Who is it?” asked the Torak.
“I do not think you have ever met him,” answered Fisher. “His name is Calitora. He is a Chula shaman.”
“An excellent choice,” approved Marak. “Can we communicate with him?”
“We can,” replied Fisher. “He confines himself to the mountain peaks so there is no chance of our conversations being overheard. Why do you ask?”
“I am not sure,” the Torak admitted. “It is just good to know that we can ask for specific intelligence if we need to. We know a great deal about the coastline of the Island of Darkness, but we have little knowledge of the interior. Perhaps this shaman can provide that knowledge?”
“Calitora has the ability to travel in feline form,” nodded Fisher. “That would make mapping the interior possible without alerting the Motangans. I will pass your request on to him.”
Marak nodded with appreciation and changed the subject, “What Chula tribes border the estates of our three rebellious lords?”
“One tribe borders all three estates,” replied Fisher. “It is the Sookie tribe. The leader’s name is Grundar. Why do you ask?”
“I want to meet him,” replied the Torak. “I have been very thorough in meeting all of the Khadoran lords, but the same is not true of the Chula chieftains. Someone should have berated me for that lapse. Do you know Grundar?”
“I have met him,” nodded Fisher. “He is a bear of a man, but very friendly.”
“How long would it take for all of the Chula chieftains to get to Changragar?” asked Marak.
“If it was important,” mused Fisher, “two days at the most. Perhaps even one day might suffice. The Chula will race night and day if it is required of them. What are you planning?”
“I want to meet all of them as soon as possible,” declared the Torak. “You have reminded me that this will be the last Assembly of Lords before the war. Shouldn’t I make the effort to meet my Chula brothers?”
“You certainly should,” Fisher grinned broadly. “May I have the honor of setting it up?”
“Please do,” nodded Marak. “With the secret door to Changragar, I can be there quickly. Just let me know when to arrive.”
“I will come and get you personally,” promised Fisher.
Chapter 16
Changing Boundaries
The ship glided noiselessly along the Sakovan coast south of Alamar. The night was young and dark, the moon not yet risen. The coastline was hard to see, and men lined the rails listening for the telltale sounds of the surf. The smell of wood smoke drifted lightly in the air, and the captain of the ship knew that he was close to his destination. So did his two special passengers who arrived alongside the helm as if the captain had summoned them.
“We are close,” one of the passengers declared. “Bring the ship to a halt and lower the small boat.”
“I can get you in closer,” offered the captain.
“You will follow my orders,” the passenger replied tersely.
The captain slowly backed away and nodded his head. He turned and snared one of the crew and told him to inform the rest of the crew that the passengers were leaving. Within minutes the ship slowed down as the crew raced around silently preparing for the departure. The captain nodded in satisfaction at the performance of his men.
“They will lower the small boat in just a minute,” the captain said to his passengers. “What about picking you back up?”
“Tomorrow night at this same time,” instructed the passenger, “you will be as far north of Alamar as you are now south of it. I will meet you there in a small boat of my own. If I am not there, return the following night. If again I do not show, return home.”
“Just one of you will be returning?” asked the captain.
“Your task, Captain, is to follow my orders,” snapped the passenger, “not to ask questions.”
“Yes, Sir,” apologized the captain. “I will be at the right spot tomorrow night. Your small boat is ready.”
The passengers spun and headed for the rail, while the mate walked up alongside the captain.
“You came close that time, Captain,” the mate said softly. “Other captains that I have sailed with have a golden rule when they carry Clarvoy as a passenger.”
“And I suppose that you are about to tell me that rule?” sighed the captain.
“Indeed, I am,” replied the mate. “Never, ever, speak to Clarvoy unless you are required to. I have seen captains thrown overboard for offending him. It is not a healthy thing to do.”
“I will try to remember that,” snarled the captain. “I hope that he…”
“Don’t finish that thought,” warned the mate. “Even thinking such a thought is inviting death. You are new to these voyages. Listen to one who has made many of them. You may find that several of your crew are in Clarvoy’s employ.”
“For what purpose?” asked the captain.