“You may rest assured that my investigation will be thorough,” declared Marshal Chack as he picked up a Sakovan star from the desk, “but you may want to rethink your evaluation of Lord Marak. He was captured at the site of the attack, and Lord Woton was slain with one of these.”
“Marshal,” frowned Botal, “Lord Marak normally carries three of those stars in his waistband. When we arrived here and were told to leave our weapons, he deposited them on the desk. Last night when we returned from the evening meal, one was missing. I think somebody is trying to make it look like Lord Marak is the culprit.”
“Why was this supposed theft not reported?” asked Marshal Chack.
“A star is hardly a valuable item,” shrugged Botal. “Besides there are supposedly only two keys to this room. I had one, and Lord Marak had the other. There were no signs that anyone broke in. Who would have believed that someone entered this room only to steal an insignificant star?”
“I can give no credence to your report,” Chack said. “There is no proof to your story, and it is too convenient after you learned of the assassination.”
“Are my men to be imprisoned then?” inquired Botal.
“No,” Chack shook his head. “The removal of your weapons is for your protection. Many a soldier would be expected to do some foolish thing to free his lord. I strongly advise against it, but you are free to come and go as you please. If you wish to leave the palace, inform me and your weapons will be returned outside the building.”
Marshal Chack picked up the last star and left the suite. Botal closed the door and turned to face his men.
“I do not want any of you do anything foolish,” sighed Botal. “That goes double for you two,” he added as he stared at Halman and Gunta. “I know what your first reaction is, but we must think things out before we act.”
“It is obvious that someone has planned this well,” responded Gunta. “We will not do anything foolish, but we will not allow Lord Marak to be executed either. We need a plan to find the real culprit.”
“Agreed,” nodded Botal. “Latril, report to Fardale and seek instructions from Lord Marshal Yenga. Halman, notify the other lords who owe allegiance to Lord Marak. I want word of this to come from us before they hear of it elsewhere. Gunta, you and I need to look at our drawings. I want to know where they are keeping Lord Marak.”
* * *
Mistake ran through the crowd of the marketplace as she sought StarWind or HawkShadow. Tears flowed from her eyes, and her vision became blurry. She stopped to wipe her eyes and felt a hand touch her shoulder.
“Why are you crying?” StarWind asked softly.
“Haven’t you heard?” sobbed Mistake. “There was an assassination attempt on the Emperor.”
“We heard,” HawkShadow said from the shadow of the alley. “The news is all over the marketplace. I heard one of the members of the Lords’ Council died instead. Do you know the Emperor? Is that why you are crying?”
“No,” Mistake shook her head. “They said it was Lord Marak who tried to kill the Emperor. They have arrested him. Now everything we have worked for is ruined.”
StarWind gasped audibly and bit her lip. “This is trouble,” she said a moment later. “The lords will tear Marak limb from limb.”
“No they won’t,” HawkShadow said with determination. “I won’t give them the chance.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Mistake with a glint of hope in her eye.
“I am going to get him out of the palace,” HawkShadow said. “He has become as important to us as he is to Khadorans. I would not doubt that General Didyk is behind this.”
“How are we going to get him out?” inquired Mistake.
HawkShadow emerged from the alley and stared at the small Fakaran. “We are not going to get him out,” HawkShadow declared. “I am. This is no time to start teaching you what you need to know. You are best off pretending that you do not know us. The Imperial troops may be searching for us before the day is out. Come, StarWind, we have work to do and not much time to do it.”
Mistake scowled at the Sakovans as they hurried away. She kicked a stone in anger as she stormed about being left out of the attempt to free Lord Marak.
“So you think Sakovans are better than Fakarans,” Mistake whispered bitterly to herself. “We will see about that. Perhaps you will change your attitude when you find Lord Marak’s cell empty when you get there.”
Mistake dried her tears with a cloth and then composed herself. She forced a smile onto her face and made her way to Wendal’s stall.
“You seem happy this morning,” greeted Wendal. “I trust the Wine Press meets with your expectations.”
“Very much so,” smiled Mistake.
“So what do you have planned for today?” Wendal asked absentmindedly as he arranged the items on his table.
“I thought I would tour the Imperial Palace,” Mistake answered cheerily.
“You had better think again,” frowned Wendal. “You will not be allowed into the palace. Besides, there is disturbing news from there. Someone tried to assassinate the Emperor.”
“No,” Mistake said with feigned shock. “Why would anybody do that? I thought everybody loved the Emperor.”
“Evidently not,” shrugged Wendal as he watched Mistake for a reaction. “Some say that Lord Marak is the one who tried it.”
“Well I hope they caught him,” frowned Mistake. “There is enough killing in the world already. It certainly shouldn’t happen in a fine city like Khadoratung.”
“No it shouldn’t,” agreed Wendal. “I guess you will have to change your plans.”
“No,” Mistake shook her head. “I can’t. Rejji made such a big deal out of seeing the palace when he was here that I told him I would let him know what the inside looked like. I cannot go back in failure.”
“I am sure that he will understand,” shrugged Wendal. “He wouldn’t want you hurt or killed for trying to sneak in.”
“I was kind of hoping that you would know a way for me to get inside,” pouted Mistake.
“Me?” chuckled Wendal. “What makes you think I could get you inside?”
“You enjoy a challenge,” grinned Mistake. “Admit it. If you were in my position, would you return to Fakara without seeing the inside of the palace?”
“Probably not,” laughed Wendal. “Still the timing is not good for such a prank.”
“I will not get another chance before I leave,” pleaded Mistake. “All I have to do is pop inside and back out again. How would you do it?”
“I would make them think I belonged inside,” Wendal thought out loud. “Actually, the days of the Assembly are the best time to do it. Every clan is represented inside. The guards cannot possibly check everyone thoroughly.”
“What do they look for when you go up to the door?” asked Mistake.
“Clan colors,” answered Wendal. “Either you are a soldier or lord wearing the clan colors, or you have a pin that identifies your clan. Not all pins would get you inside, though. You would need an appropriate one and a good story to go along with it. When Rejji was here he wore such a pin that identified him as the bursar’s boy.”
“I remember him telling me that you wanted very badly to purchase it,” nodded Mistake. “Do you have any?”
Wendal hesitated just a moment too long, and Mistake knew the answer to the question. Her lips spread wide in a big grin.
“How much?” she asked.
“I don’t sell them,” protested Wendal. “I collect them.”
“Well how much to rent one?” Mistake persisted. “I won’t need it for long.”
Wendal stared at the diminutive Fakaran for a long time before answering.
He shook his head as he pulled a tray from behind his stall. “This is a stupid idea,” he warned. “I am probably aiding you in suicide. What will Rejji think of me then?”
“If I die,” laughed Mistake, “I promise that I won’t tell him.”
“You are incorrigible,” laughed Wendal as he handed Mistake a small blue and yellow pin that denoted a member of the lord’s family. “This will identify you as a member of Lord Samert’s family. He is the lord of the Vessi clan. Whatever you do, avoid any of the Vessi clan members. They will know immediately that you are a fraud. The best time to enter is just before a large group. Wait until you see such a group approaching one of the doors. Get in front of them, but do so naturally. The guards will want to dispense with you quickly so they can handle the larger group.”