“So you are looking for something to get the four hosts of the Jiadin to falter before making the motion?” asked Lord Kiamesh.
“Yes,” nodded Marak.
“I can think of a way,” groused Lord Quilo. “How about I get each of those traitorous dogs in a room alone and tell them to keep their mouths shut?”
Several of the lords laughed, but Lord Chenowith rose to ask for silence.
“There is merit to your suggestion, Lord Quilo,” Lord Chenowith said seriously. “I do not mean physical abuse, but three of those clans are holding large amounts of land taken from other estates. The Vessi, Glamaraldi, and Lejune clans each seized several estates using their Jiadin mercenaries. This council could revoke those gains under the law.”
“But there was no protest at the time,” frowned Lord Patel. “On what basis could we deny them their holdings?”
“On the basis that their clans were a minority interest in the attacking force,” grinned Emperor Marak. “You are a genius, Lord Chenowith. Of course that would require the Jiadin to express a claim to the spoils, but I think I could arrange for them to do that.”
“But the Jiadin are not even Khadoran,” Lord Faliman shook his head. “How can they have a claim?”
“The Lords’ Council reserves the right to create new clans,” explained Lord Patel. “All we would need are three Jiadin men to step forward, request a new clan, and make a claim for the spoils.”
“I could arrange for that to happen,” declared Emperor Marak. “I am not suggesting that we do so, but it makes an excellent bargaining point for negotiations with the three clans.”
“And the fourth traitorous clan?” asked Lord Faliman. “That was the Pikata, wasn’t it? Lord Damirath, if I remember correctly.”
“It was the Pikata,” nodded Emperor Marak, “but it was not really Lord Damirath. It was a magician named Zygor who had stolen Lord Damirath’s body.”
“Then the Pikata clan was not under orders of its rightful lord,” Lord Kiamesh pointed out. “In reality, the ownership of the Pikata clan passed to Zygor when he assumed command.”
“But the Pikata did not gain any estates in the fighting,” shrugged the Emperor. “We can not bargain with them in the same way as the others.”
“Who rules the Pikata now?” asked Lord Jamarat.
“Lord Damirath’s son, Rymaka,” answered Lord Quilo. “The boy is unfit to lead a clan. While Lord Damirath was fair and just, Rymaka is cruel and unbalanced. If ever there was a clan ruler that this council should revoke, Rymaka is the one. He tortures his servants as he used to torture animals when he was younger. He is a poor excuse for a human being.”
“Does he do this while he is in Khadoratung?” asked Emperor Marak.
“He does it everywhere,” Lord Quilo nodded with distaste. “If the boy was a wasooki, he would have been put down years ago.”
“Who is next in line to rule the Pikata?” asked the Emperor.
“No one,” answered Lord Quilo. “Rymaka is the end of the line.”
“Is there anyone in the Pikata clan who could lead those people justly?” asked Marak.
“There are many good people in the Pikata clan,” nodded Lord Quilo. “That is what makes Rymaka even more unbearable. If you were looking for someone to lead the Pikata, the bursar would be an excellent choice. His name is Wicado.”
“I will not stand for torturing servants in this palace,” declared Emperor Marak. “There are clear prohibitions against that as well as other abuses. If Rymaka violates that rule, I will have him arrested. It will be up to this council to take action concerning his fitness as a lord.”
“You will not catch him,” shrugged Lord Quilo. “He will do so in the privacy of his clan quarters.”
“I will catch him,” vowed Emperor Marak.
“Then we will act upon it,” promised Lord Chenowith. “I propose that we have early morning meetings with the other three eastern lords. They will forego making that motion tomorrow, or they will forego a great deal of land. We will make that clear to them.”
“What about the three southern rebels?” asked Lord Jamarat. “How will you stop them?”
“I have a treat in store for them,” grinned Emperor Marak. “In fact, I think they may start a new trend in Khadora.”
“A new trend?” echoed Lord Kiamesh with a puzzled brow. “What kind of trend?”
“The kind of trend that makes Khadoran lords speak honestly about their borders,” answered the Emperor. “I will explain it later tonight. Now it is time for a meal break. I am famished. After we eat, I want you to meet those special visitors that I spoke about earlier. Let’s reconvene in about an hour. We shall meet at the Temple of Kaltara.”
* * *
Lady Mystic strolled the beach, her eyes alternating between the sea and sand in front of her feet. She stopped and turned to face the surf. Her gaze followed the swells to the horizon as she wondered what Aakuta’s land was like. She wished she had spent more time with him discussing Omunga and what it was like to have lived there. The only information she had ever heard were the reports from Clarvoy, which meant that she had heard little.
Lady Mystic sighed and continued walking. She still thought of Aakuta all of the time, but at least she now had times when she did more than just cry all day. She stopped again and stared into the surf. She was so tempted to just walk into the ocean and allow it to swallow her up, but she knew that she did not have the courage to do so. She pressed her lips tightly together to halt the start of the tears as she turned and continued walking along the beach.
She started once again to berate herself for her mistakes when she rounded the bend and saw a basket sitting on the sand. She frowned as she recognized the spot where she spent most of her waking hours. Cautiously, she walked closer to the basket and peered at it. Her head turned as she looked up and down the beach for the basket’s owner, but no one was visible.
Curiosity got the better of Vand’s daughter as she bent over and slowly opened the basket. She stared at the bounty of food and realized that she was famished. She had not eaten all day. Once again she scanned the beach for the basket’s owner. There was no one in sight.
Lady Mystic reached into the basket and snared a large orange. As she picked it up, a small note moved. She bent closer to read it.
“And an extra cloth to dry your tears,” Lady Mystic read from the note.
She frowned as she turned the note over for a hint of whom it was from. The back was blank. The mention of tears seemed to indicate that the basket had been left for her, but she could not imagine who would leave it. She thought immediately of Xavo, but she quickly dismissed the thought. While he was pleasant the other day, that was because he wanted something. This gesture was not Xavo’s style.
Lady Mystic lowered herself to the sand and began to eat the food in the basket. She enjoyed herself thoroughly as it all tasted exceptionally good. She realized that the taste sensation was due to her starvation, but she relished every bite just the same.
“Funny how things always seem better when you have been without them for a time,” she mused to herself.
She wondered if that was why she missed Aakuta so much. Would she truly love him if he were here now? A smile came involuntarily to her lips as she nodded her head in answer to the question. Just as quickly, the tears started rolling down her cheeks. Aakuta would not magically appear like the basket did, she realized. She rose to her feet, lifting the basket with her. Refusing to abandon the basket on the beach, Lady Mystic decided to venture to her home. She had not been there since the day her laboratory was destroyed.
She walked along the narrow path through the jungle, oblivious to the birds and animals that scurried away from her. She emerged from the jungle and headed into the alleyway. As she neared the door to her home, an anxious feeling began to creep over her. She wiped the tears from her eyes and saw something colorful by her door. She could not tell what it was.
When Lady Mystic got closer to her door, she halted and stared at the ground in wonder. At the foot of her door was a large bouquet of flowers in a very expensive vase. She looked up and down the alleyway in confusion. There was no one in sight. She reasoned that the vase could not have been there for long, or someone would have stolen it.