Lord Marak hit the ground and hugged it as the blue-white light exploded above him, creating eerie shadows and illuminating the warriors and tigers surrounding him. Marak glanced up at the brilliant globe of light spinning high over his head and quickly clamped his eyes shut. Still, the light sparkled through his eyelids and Marak slowly and cautiously pushed himself off the ground.
With steady hands, Marak slowly and obviously removed his sword from its sheath and laid it gently on the ground. Next he removed the two belt knives and placed them on the ground. Looking towards the path at the Chula sitting calmly but attentively on their tigers, Marak removed the two throwing knives from their sheaths attached to his forearms and gently laid them next to the sword. Finally, while scanning the hillside from which the light had come, Marak removed two Omunga Stars from his broad Situ belt and placed them on the ground.
Marak distinctly heard a chuckle when he had finished discarding his weapons and stood with his arms outstretched and his palms facing upward.
With a loud voice that reverberated through the woods, Marak called out. “I have not come to invade you by myself. I have come to talk about an ending to the bloodshed. Will your Tribe Leader hear my words or is the senseless killing to continue?”
A tall, muscular Chula, clad only in a breechcloth, materialized out of the trees and walked up to Marak. The Chula warrior quickly ran his hands over Marak and stood back, waving to some unseen person. Another Chula warrior stepped out of the bushes and gathered up Marak’s weapons. Marak was impressed by the stealthiness of the Chula warriors. The first Chula warrior gently reached up and pulled Marak’s headband down over the Lord’s eyes, effectively blindfolding him.
Marak felt firm hands take hold of each of his arms and start leading him up the hillside. His two escorts managed to make the trip uneventful and fifteen minutes later Marak was set down on the floor near a fire.
“You may remove your blindfold,” offered a deep, solid voice.
Marak pushed his headband back up onto his forehead and glanced around the hut. Across from him was a muscular, powerful looking man dressed in deerskin. Marak assumed the voice belonged to the deerskin-clad man because the person sitting next to him looked like he should purr, rather than speak in a deep voice. The second person resembled a man with pronounced cat-like features. He had a full mane of hair, which Marak could picture as being appropriate on a lion. His eyes were narrow slits and long whiskers extended from above his split lips.
“Thank you,” stated Marak. “I am Lord Marak of Fardale and I have come to talk about peace between our peoples.”
“Peace?” purred the cat man. “Do you call sneaking, heavily armed, onto our lands in the dark of night a proper prelude to peace?”
“If the people of Fardale knew I was coming here,” explained Marak, “they would have tried to come with me. You would have taken it for another invasion and we would not be sitting here talking. Yes. I call it a proper prelude to peace talks.”
“Well spoken,” smiled the deerskin-clad man. “I am Tmundo, Leader of the Kywara Tribe. With us is Rykoma, our Grand Shaman. We shall honor your bravery in coming here with talk of peace. It is well that you did not bring another army onto our lands.”
“It is my desire to never bring another army onto your lands,” declared Marak. “It is also my intention to make sure that the Kywara never sneak into Fardale and murder my people again.”
“Murder?” cried Rykoma. “Your people were warned of the consequences of invading the Sitari Valley before they came. Our people only delivered what we promised.”
“If that is true,” questioned Marak, “how can I make sure that it does not happen again?”
“If that is true?” scolded Rykoma. “If that is true? Do you doubt the word of the Kywara?”
Tmundo gently laid his hand on Rykoma’s arm and the shaman fell silent. “The Kywara are known for the truth of their word,” Tmundo stated softly. “Not only the literal truth, like the flatlanders, but the spirit of the truth, as well. If I give my word that no flatlanders will be harmed by Kywara inside Fardale, you may trust it with my life.”
“I will accept your words as truth,” conceded Marak, “but I do not seek your life. I could order my people to stay out of the Sitari Valley, but I would not guarantee their performance with my life. I would guarantee it with the forfeited lives of any offenders, though.”
“So, you fear a lack of control over the people of Fardale,” Tmundo pointed out. “You appear to be wise and honest. Does this mean that you will order your people to stay out of the valley?”
“I will so order,” Lord Marak offered, “if you give your word about Fardale in return.”
“Before I do so,” hesitated Tmundo, “I want to know more about you and Fardale. I know that you have brought fresh soldiers to Fardale with you. Why have they come?”
“I was scheduled to lead them here in two weeks' time to assist Lord Lashendo in defeating you,” admitted Marak. “The men I have brought with me are the men of my Corte. I was a Cortain when we heard of the murders and our departure was moved up to leave Lituk Valley immediately.”
“So, you admit that the soldiers were sent here to destroy us?” interrupted Rykoma.
“I admit that those were the orders I was to follow before we heard of the murders,” continued Marak. “Things have changed since then and I am now in a position to redirect their efforts.”
“I am confused,” Tmundo said. “You are a minor officer in the Situ Army. You had orders to assist Lord Lashendo in destroying us. Now you show up as Lord Lashendo’s replacement, with the same troops, and you expect us to believe that we are in no danger of attack?”
“Yes,” declared Lord Marak. “My men and myself have no reason to wish you harm. We follow orders and those orders were to assist Lord Lashendo with his military operation. Lord Lashendo is dead and no longer in control of Fardale. I am Lord of Fardale and the soldiers will follow my orders. I do not wish war with the Kywara. I also do not wish to send my men back to serve under Lord Ridak. They will stay in Fardale.”
“You are very young to be a Lord,” observed Rykoma. “Is Lord Ridak your father, or are you the son of another Situ Lord?”
“No,” answered Lord Marak. “I am the son of a slave who serves Lord Ridak. Before you ask how I became Lord of Fardale, I will explain it for you. Lord Lashendo wanted to clear Sitari Valley to gain more land to increase his amount of harvestable crops. Without an increase in the amount of crops, Lord Lashendo would not be able to deliver on contracts he has already made. Your murder of Lord Lashendo did not alter the problem for the Situ Clan, but it did alter the available replacements for his position. I do not know how my selection will help the Situ Clan if I fail, but Lord Ridak thinks there is some way it will help. Basically, they allowed me to be Lord because they didn’t want one of themselves to fail, but I do not intend to fail.”
“How, then, will you succeed?” asked Tmundo. “You face the same problems that Lord Lashendo faced, plus there will be no comforting support from Lituk Valley. Is there not more reason for you to seek control of Sitari Valley than Lord Lashendo?”
“I can not tell you how I will succeed,” admitted Marak, “but I can tell you that invading Sitari Valley will not be the solution. I am a warrior and I respect what I have seen of your warriors. It would be foolish of me to waste my men by fighting over a valley that would have little yield this year. If I am able to make my contracts for this year, I can reduce the amount for next year and not require any more tillable land. My problem is getting a large enough harvest this year. The extra men I brought with me may end up tilling the fields.”
“Your words ring with logic,” smiled Tmundo. “Will you be replaced as Lord of Fardale if you succeed?”
“Not if I can help it,” Marak said. “I have bargained for a pronouncement that makes me the absolute ruler of Fardale. Lord Ridak cannot order my people to do something other than what I want. If he removes me, he cannot force me to relinquish my people. He can enslave me for defying him, but there is nothing he can do to regain the Vows of my people short of killing me.”
“It would appear that Lord Ridak is playing with a tiger when he thought he had hold of a housecat,” interrupted Rykoma. “Why should the Kywara make the same mistake?”
“Do not the Kywara have better things to do than watch over their neighbors?” retorted Marak. “Lord Ridak has enslaved my mother and perhaps killed my father. His treatment of people is indecent. I wanted this position as Lord of Fardale to prove that things can work without enslaving people. Do you think I would unburden my people just to turn them back over to Lord Ridak when all of the problems are solved?”
“Do you really intend to free your slaves?” asked Tmundo.
“I have many changes planned for Fardale,” declared Lord Marak. “Freeing the slaves is but one. I have read that the Chula are capable of powerful magic. Is this true?”
Rykoma and Tmundo exchanged uneasy glances. “What would knowledge of Kywara magic have to do with Fardale?” questioned Rykoma.
“Situ magic is limited and not properly used,” answered Marak. “I said my mother was a slave to Lord Ridak. What I did not say is that she is also a soil mage. I spent my younger years in her care and met other mages of air, sun, and water. I believe that the four types can be combined into more powerful magic. I have read that the Chula have different types of magic that have been long forgotten to those whom you call the flatlanders. If your shaman could instruct my mages to increase the fertility of my fields, my yield would increase without the need for more land.”
“Kywara magic is never revealed to flatlanders,” Rykoma replied promptly. “If we were able to help your mages, we would not do so.”
Tmundo sensed the disappointment on Marak’s face, but said nothing about it. “Was your father also a mage?” the Kywara Leader asked.
“I do not know,” Marak answered. “I was young when we were separated and I do not remember him. All I have of him is my necklace and my mother’s memories. She never mentioned him having magical capabilities.”
Rykoma reached over and plucked the necklace from beneath Marak’s shirt so he could see it. “It is very handsome,” the Grand Shaman appraised as he gently pushed it back into place. “It is sad to lose your parents at a young age.”
If Lord Ridak comes with soldiers to forcibly retake Fardale,” asked Tmundo, “will your soldiers fight for you?”
“Lord Ridak will try many other methods of regaining control before he sends his soldiers,” Marak remarked. “I will have plenty of notice. I believe that by then the answer will be yes. I have much work to do to win the hearts of my people first.”
Tmundo smiled as he realized that he was taking a liking to the young warrior-turned-Lord. “I think your courage and devotion to your ideals will win their hearts soon enough. I am willing to make a pact with Fardale. This is the offer of my pact. If the people of Fardale will recognize Sitari Valley as the property of the Kywara and respect our boundaries, the Kywara will refrain from any attacks on Fardale . . . as long as Lord Marak reigns.”
“But what if . . . “, started Marak. “You are a wise man, Leader Tmundo. You not only seek peace with your neighbor, but seek to keep a peaceful neighbor. I am indebted to you on behalf of the Fardale people. It would please me to visit with you again, if that is permissible.”
“You are welcome to visit, Lord Marak,” extended Tmundo. “May I assume that you also offer such an invitation?”
Marak hesitated before answering. “I would welcome such a visit,” he finally replied. “I have a favor to ask in addition to our pact. When I return to Fardale I would like to be escorted by two of your warriors riding their beasts. It will help my people to accept you as friends and neighbors if they can see you as people instead of nightmares.”
“A wise request,” smiled Tmundo. “As long as we can keep your beast from shying, I think it will do us both well. I would like to send some of my people, unannounced, to look at your fields. Perhaps there is some advice we can give you. Will such a journey be safe for my people?”
“I will make it so,” guaranteed Marak. “Still, it would be best if they were small groups at first.”
“No more than one or two,” grinned Tmundo, “and they will leave their beasts behind. Now, we should all need time for sleep. I will have someone show you a place to sleep and in the morning two of my men will escort you to Fardale.”
Marak nodded his thanks and was led to an empty hut where he found his weapons waiting for him. A simple mat adorned the floor of the hut with fresh blankets folded alongside. Marak stripped off his uniform and covered himself with a blanket. The mat was very comfortable and the Lord of Fardale swiftly drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Squad Leader Zorkil opened the door and shook Tagoro. Tagoro rose up on one elbow and squinted at the rising sun. “What is it Zorkil? Has he returned?”
“No,” worried Zorkil. “He has been gone all night and I am worried about him. The Chula are barbarians and will torture him if he is caught. I wish you would tell me what his secret weapon is.”
Tagoro laughed as he scooped water from the basin to his face and wiped it dry with a towel. “You never asked what his secret weapon was, Zorkil,” chuckled Tagoro. “Lord Marak’s secret weapon is his mouth. He believes that many problems can be solved just by talking about them. The thought is quite foreign in Khadora and Marak and I have always joked about it. He has gone to talk with the Chula. That is why he did not want any company. They will not consider one man a threat, but two or three would be treated differently.”
“So that is why he was so adamant about me staying behind,” understood Zorkil. “But I do not think the Chula will stop to talk with him. They will kill him before he gets one word out.”
“Do not underestimate your new Lord,” laughed Tagoro. “Marak has many strange ideas, but they make sense after he has a chance to explain them. If anyone can talk the Chula into being peaceful, he will succeed. Still, I share your apprehensions. He should have been back many hours ago.”
“Do you think we should go looking for him?” asked Zorkil.
“No,” answered Tagoro. “This is his realm and we must allow him to rule as he sees fit. It is his neck that is in the noose. Let’s go wait by the gate so he doesn’t get punctured by one of your archers.”
Tagoro and Zorkil were waiting half and hour when a shout rang out from the wall. Men scurried to their places to prepare for the attack and Tagoro raced to the top of the wall and followed the lookout’s pointing finger. In the distance he saw three figures approaching, one on horseback and two riding tigers. Tagoro strained his eyes to pick out Marak on the horse and when he finally verified that it was the Lord of Fardale, he shouted out an order to stand down.
Marak waved as he got closer and the Fardale soldiers stared in disbelief. Marak halted short of bow range and dismounted. Tagoro and Zorkil were already on their way out to greet their Lord and Marak turned to them. He pressed the reins of his horse into Tagoro’s outstretched hand. The Kywara warriors also dismounted and let the tigers roam free. The tigers actually appeared tame and made no effort to attack the horse, which had been skittish for the first half of the ride. Marak introduced Squad Leader Zorkil and Squad Leader Tagoro to the Kywara warriors and each of them grasped the other’s forearm in the traditional welcome of Khadora.
As soon as the display was completed, the Kywara warriors called their tigers, mounted, and rode back the way they had come. Lord Marak walked with his two Squad Leaders back to the main gate as if he had just been on an outing. Marak held up a parchment as he entered the estate and shouted that Fardale was at peace with the Chula. He contemplated calling another gathering to announce the treaty, but decided that the word would spread quicker this way. He was right and word of the treaty reached the mansion even before he did.
Marak told Zorkil and Tagoro the details of his meeting as they walked to the Lord’s study where Seneschal Pito was waiting with his reports. Once he reached the study, he sent the two Squad Leaders off to confirm the reports of the treaty so everyone would know it was not just a rumor. Lord Marak waved the Seneschal into the study and sat down.
“Good morning, Seneschal Pito,” greeted Lord Marak. “You have the reports I requested?”
“Yes, Lord Marak,” answered the gray haired man. “Is it true about a treaty with the Chula? Do you think we can trust them to honor the treaty?”
“The Kywara, to be exact,” corrected Marak, “and, yes, they will honor the treaty. There is no record of the Kywara ever breaking their word.” Marak did not elaborate that there were few records of the Kywara at all.
“Well, that is certainly a feather in your helmet,” congratulated the Seneschal. “Will they allow us to clear the Sitari Valley?”
“Absolutely not,” replied Marak. “I have no intention of clearing another valley. Our manpower is better spent getting our crops from the fields we already have.”
The Seneschal nodded as he handed the reports to Lord Marak and took a seat. “I’m afraid that will leave us far short of the amount we need to fulfill our contracts.”
“That is a matter which I will take up next with the Bursar,” Marak declared. “Which report details the slave labor and which deals with the mages?”
Pito rifled through the pile of papers and withdrew two sets. “There is some crossover in the two groups,” Pito mentioned. “Some of the mages are slaves.”
Seneschal Pito sat fidgeting quietly as Lord Marak read the reports. He strained to see what Lord Marak was scribbling on the papers, but his eyesight was no longer sufficient to accomplish the task. For over an hour Pito sat in silence and Lord Marak scribbled away. Finally, Marak looked up and shoved the papers back to the Seneschal.
“I have made some notations for your consideration on these reports,” stated Marak. “Read them this morning and I will be available for your questions this afternoon. The main points which I want you to act on immediately are going to be significant changes to the way Fardale has been run in the past. I understand that we have two empty barracks as well as the barracks used by the Lectains. They are to be made ready this afternoon for the slaves. As soon as the slaves have been relocated, you will make a determination about the condition of the slave shacks. Those that can be repaired and brought up to the same condition as the laborer huts, will be repaired. Those which can not be economically repaired are to be torn down and new ones constructed.”
“That will take some time, Lord Marak,” replied a surprised Seneschal. “Even after we construct new buildings for the slaves, they will not remain in good condition for long. You just cannot have that many people live in a building and have it remain serviceable.”
“You are quite right, Seneschal Pito,” smiled Marak. “That is why you are also going to construct enough new huts to house the entire slave population according to the ratio used for the laborers. You see, Seneschal, Fardale no longer has any slaves. As of this moment, all slaves are free men and shall be housed as such.”
Pito’s jaw dropped as he gaped at his new Lord. “This extra work will only hamper your efforts to bring in the crop on time,” stated a stunned Seneschal. “Not to mention the extra land which will be required. I don’t think we will have enough workers to complete the huts by harvest time.”
“Seneschal Pito,” scolded Lord Marak, “we do have to work on your negative attitude. You will have one month for the huts to be completed. I have every confidence that you will succeed in the tasks I have given to you. I want to be informed when construction begins on the first hut. Assemble the slaves for me in two hours' time. I want to personally inform them of their freedom. That will be all for now.”
Seneschal Pito rose shakily from his chair and gathered his papers. He gazed at Lord Marak as if he was looking at a madman, but when Marak’s eyes rose to look at the departing Seneschal, he tucked the papers under his arm and scurried out. As soon as the Seneschal left the room, a small, young woman entered the study. She carried a stack of papers and lowered her slim figure to the chair, which Pito had just vacated. Marak looked up at her and smiled.
“What can I do for you?” Marak asked.
“I am here with the Bursar’s reports,” she answered as she slid the reports across the desk.
“And who are you? Marak quizzed.
“I am Kasa, Bursar Tachora’s assistant,” the woman replied as she toyed with her short black hair. “He told me you want these reports first thing in the morning. I have been waiting for the Seneschal to leave.”
“And where is Bursar Tachora?” demanded Lord Marak as he stared at the woman’s green eyes which appeared to be puffy from lack of sleep.
“I do not know, My Lord,” Kasa answered softly.
“Have you seen him this morning?” grilled Marak. “When did he give you these reports?”
The woman bit her lip and lowered her eyes to the desktop. “I have not seen him this morning,” Lord Marak,” she whispered. “I have been sitting in the corridor outside. He did not actually give me these reports, he ordered me to compile them.”
“I asked for accurate reports of our contracts and financial position,” prompted Marak. “Are you telling me that you are so well informed of the financial dealings of Fardale that you are capable of compiling these reports yourself?”
“I have been doing the reports for two years, My Lord,” she replied nervously. “Only the actual contract negotiations are handled by Bursar Tachora.”
Marak shook his head as he looked at the reports. The financial condition of Fardale was not bad, but the prices agreed to on the grain contracts seemed fairly low to Marak. Granted, Marak was no financial wizard, but he knew the retail price of grain and it appeared as if the ratio between wholesale and retail was much greater than what he knew Lord Ridak got for lituks. He had witnessed contract negotiations while guarding the caravans.
“What do you think of the prices on these contracts, Kasa?” inquired Marak. “Isn’t this price a bit low for grain?”
Marak thought the young woman would bite clear through her lip as she silently nodded. “Kasa, your Lord demands an explanation for these contracts,” clarified Marak. “Why was Lord Lashendo selling grain so cheaply?”
Kasa sat silent for a moment as if deciding a weighty issue. Slowly she nodded to herself and her eyes rose to meet Lord Marak’s.
“Lord Marak,” sobbed Kasa, “they do not suspect that I know, but Lord Lashendo and Bursar Tachora have been selling the grain to a company owned by themselves, a company called Khadora Grain Importers. I suspect that they resell it at a higher price and pocket the difference. When I tried to investigate the company we were selling to, I was nearly sent to the fields as a laborer. Lord Lashendo, himself, told me that I was only an assistant and if I pretended to be anything else he would enslave me. As you are Lord Lashendo’s replacement, I was not sure if you were involved with Bursar Tachora.”
Marak shook his head as everything fell into place. Fardale was required to pay a percentage of their profits to Lord Ridak. Lord Lashendo and Bursar Tachora were skimming a healthy sum for themselves and making the profit that they had to share that much smaller. Tachora, with traditional Khadoran philosophy, wanted an assistant to push off the bulk of his work to, yet didn’t want anyone to find out, so he chose a woman whom he thought wouldn’t know one side of a coin from another. The only problem in his thinking was that it appeared Kasa was quite capable in the realm of finance.
“Kasa,” smiled Lord Marak, “I want to know everything there is to know about Khadora Grain Importers. I want to know whom their contracts are with, how much money they have and where it is kept. I want to know if they have any other partners and, if so, who they are. If I remove you from Tachora’s grasp, can you do this?”
“Yes, Lord Marak,” she smiled. “I have developed contacts in the last two years that the Bursar does not know about. Not because I have been trying to deceive him, but because he just doesn’t care how I handle my job.”
“When Bursar Tachora asks how the meeting went,” ordered Lord Marak, “you can tell him I appreciated your reporting so much that I have taken you for my personal assistant. As of now you no longer work for Bursar Tachora.”
“But I don’t know if he will be capable of performing the tasks, My Lord,” Kasa answered. “It has been a long time since he did most of the tasks.”
“Well, he shall have to relearn, Kasa,” chuckled Marak. “Get that information for me as soon as possible.”