“You are right,” sighed Lord Marak. “I will dine with the lords. Latril, you will accompany me.”
Lord Marak and Latril left the Torak quarters and walked to the Lords’ Dining Room. Unlike the room for the soldiers, which had long tables and benches, the Lords’ Dining Room had fine tables with seating for four or eight. The tables were made of fargi wood shined to a mirror finish. Comfortable leather chairs surrounded the tables, and each table was adorned with candles and flowers.
Lord Marak halted when he entered the dining room. The loud din of conversation ceased when everyone noticed that he had entered. The Torak lord viewed the room quickly and chose to sit at an empty table. Slowly the conversations started anew, and Lord Marak was sure that he was now the topic of conversation at each and every table. An Imperial soldier hurried over and presented himself.
“Would you and your guest care for fish or wasooki, Lord Marak?” the Imperial soldier asked.
Lord Marak glanced briefly at Latril before answering, “Wasooki.”
The Imperial soldier nodded perfunctorily and retreated. Lord Marak appeared to be gazing casually around the room as he wove an air tunnel. He moved the air tunnel from table to table to eavesdrop on the conversations.
“Try the table in the corner,” Latril whispered. “You will find this interesting.”
Lord Marak chuckled inwardly as he adjusted the air tunnel. He had not thought that Latril would also be spying. Suddenly, he dropped his air tunnel and turned to Latril.
“How did you know?” he asked.
“I wasn’t sure,” admitted Latril. “I have always thought your grasp of understanding magic and what your mages must go through was uncanny for someone with no skill, yet male mages are unknown to us.”
“So if male mages are unknown,” probed Lord Marak, “what made you think I could use magic?”
“That is why I suggested listening to the corner table,” smiled Latril. “They were just discussing some male mage known as Aakuta. If indeed one exists, why not others? And if any exist, surely you must be one.”
“Your logic is flawless,” Lord Marak remarked as he wove his air tunnel again and focused on the corner table.
The conversation halted abruptly as one lord rose and stormed out of the room.
“What were they saying?” asked Lord Marak.
“It appears that Lord Druck, who just left, had trouble with this Aakuta,” Latril explained. “He said the dark mage destroyed a squad of his soldiers and stole one hundred thousand gold coins from him.”
“How did this mage destroy the soldiers?” questioned Marak.
“They found the bodies burned beyond recognition,” frowned Latril. “Horses and soldiers in one heap. This was on a road, so I do not think they were burned in a building or from ordinary fire. The description is accurate as to what some of our mages can do.”
“This dark mage stole money from Lord Druck?” asked Lord Marak.
“Not exactly,” Latril shook her head. “It was payment for healing the lord’s son. The other lord, Lord Faliman, had recommended Aakuta. Now it appears they are enemies.”
“This is something that we must learn more about,” Lord Marak declared as he moved his air tunnel to a different table. “When we contact Fardale, I want to let everyone know that we want information on this Aakuta.”
“I did learn about a garden behind the palace,” offered Latril. “Perhaps we can go out there tomorrow and contact Fardale.”
“You should not go alone,” frowned Lord Marak. “And if we go together, people will get the wrong impression of who you are.”
“You are doing more talking than listening,” giggled Latril. “That is already what they all think. Have you not noticed that I am the only woman here?”
Lord Marak’s eyes opened wide with understanding. He started to rise, but Latril placed her hand on his arm.
“Let them think what they want,” she whispered. “Perhaps that will keep them from understanding the truth.”
“You are a strong woman, Latril,” smiled Lord Marak, “but there is a demand I must make of you.”
“What is that?” asked Latril.
“Your knowledge of my skills must remain between you and me,” declared Lord Marak. “It is too soon for others to know.”
“I shall not speak of it,” promised Latril, “but do not be surprised if others discover it. You have many intelligent mages in your service. Do not underestimate them.”
“I never have,” grinned Lord Marak.
“Ah, Lord Marak,” came a familiar voice from behind him. “May I sit with you?”
Lord Marak turned to see Lord Shamino, the Sorgan lord. He waved his hand towards an empty chair.
“By all means, Lord Shamino,” replied Lord Marak. “This is the first time for both of us.”
“That sure started a new buzz among the lords,” Latril said softly. “They are surprised that anyone would sit with you, especially a neighbor.”
“Keep listening,” whispered Lord Marak as the Sorgan lord sat down. “We will talk about this when we return to our quarters.”
“The palace is quite exciting,” Lord Shamino said loudly as he smiled at Lord Marak. He lowered his voice to a whisper and continued, “Many lords are questioning me about the Torak clan in general, and about you in particular. What should I be telling them?”
“What have you told them?” asked Lord Marak.
“I feigned ignorance as best I could,” answered Lord Shamino. “I told them that I have just assumed leadership of the Sorgan clan, but that Lord Quavry appeared to get along rather well with you.”
“You told them that?” questioned Lord Marak.
“Well, he did appear to get along well with you,” chuckled Lord Shamino. “I did not mention that appearances could be deceiving.”
“You are treacherous,” chuckled Lord Marak, “but you do bring up a good point. I need to set the tone for our other lords. Can you contact each of them without raising eyebrows?”
“Easily,” smiled Lord Shamino. “It is you that everyone is watching. What do you want me to tell them?”
“Ask each of them to stop by my quarters sometime tonight,” answered Lord Marak. “It is fine for them to act indifferently for now, but I will need them to express support for me at some point. That time may well be tomorrow.”
“I shall do so right now,” responded Lord Shamino as he pushed back his chair and rose.
Moments later the food was served and Lord Marak observed the assembled lords as he ate. After they had finished eating, lords started approaching the table one at a time. Most of them offered a bland welcome to the palace and fished for information. Lord Marak was polite to each as he tried to gauge their alignments with the other clans. One older lord in yellow and blue pulled back a chair and sat down.
“So you are Lord Marak,” the lord said without emotion. “You are young for a lord. How have you come into power?”
“You have the advantage, sir,” retorted Lord Marak. “I recognize your colors as the Dilendro clan, but I am afraid that I do not know your name.”
“Lord Chandra,” replied the man. “Do not feel bad about it. People do not discuss me as they do you. You, sir, are rocking the boat here in Khadora. What is this nonsense about freeing your slaves? Is this true?”
“It is,” nodded Lord Marak as he tried to get a feel for the old man. “I find that free men are better workers than slaves. You should try it.”
“I think I will wait to see how you fare first,” replied Lord Chandra. “Evidently it is not working for you.”
“Why do you say that?” puzzled Lord Marak.
“I heard that you raised your prices on watula,” replied Lord Chandra. “Now that is a sure sign of a failing estate. You had best rethink your methods. Slavery is used because it provides cheap labor.”
“Well,” smiled Lord Marak, “if I fail, many lords would probably cheer. I do not intend to fail though, Lord Chandra. I believe that all people should be treated with dignity, and that includes slaves.”