“He is gone,” Lord Marak said soothingly. “Still, that does not mean that you cannot find someone to watch out for you. I know the loss of a loved one can be devastating. Perhaps I can help you when you need help. You have but to ask.”
Lord Jamarat’s eyebrows rose as the looked at the Torak lord. “Why would you help me?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t I?” smiled Lord Marak. “Your clan is old and well respected. Should not a Khadoran help another when he needs it?”
“They should,” nodded Lord Jamarat, “but that is not the way of Khadora.”
“It is my way,” retorted Lord Marak. “If you find yourself in trouble, talk to me. I will do what I can.”
“Do you really mean that?” asked Lord Jamarat. “Or do you say that to look good in front of others?”
Lord Marak smiled as he shook his head. He stretched his arm and placed his hand on Lord Jamarat’s shoulder. “Look around, Jamarat,” he smiled. “There is nobody here to hear my words but you. When you need me, let me know.”
Lord Jamarat smiled and nodded as Lord Marak stepped into the dining room. The room was elegant. Fine fabrics adorned the walls and a row of leather chairs sat before a fireplace. In the center of the room was a long rectangular black table. Lord Mirakotto sat at one end, and Lord Kiamesh sat at the other. Lord Patel and Lord Garic were on the side closest to the door and had their backs to it. On the far side of the table was an empty chair next to Lord Quilo. As it was positioned, only Lord Quilo could observe Lord Marak enter the room. A mischievous smile spread across his face when he noticed Lord Marak, but he said nothing to interrupt the loud conversation that was currently taking place.
“This is all your fault, Kiamesh,” snarled Lord Mirakotto. “If you had not broken with tradition, we would not have to suffer the boy lord among our ranks.”
“Oh?” countered Lord Kiamesh. “And I should have just remained quiet and let you seat that imbecile brother of Lord Woton among us? Jamarat has the wits of a ten year old. He would bark if you commanded him to.”
“Which would have suited Lord Mirakotto just fine,” interjected Lord Patel. “It is no secret that Lord Woton was your man, Mirakotto. You merely sought to replace him with Jamarat to retain your power over this council. Now you shall have to vie for votes the same as we all do.”
“At least Lord Faliman was from a founding clan,” added Lord Kiamesh. “Now we are stuck with a man who should not even be a lord. This makes a mockery of the Lords’ Council. You should have stopped the Emperor, Garic.”
“Don’t you think I wanted to?” defended Lord Garic. “If we had had any advance notice of what the Emperor was up to, we could have worked around it. There was nothing that I could do.”
“Welcome, Lord Marak,” chuckled Lord Quilo when he thought he had had enough fun at the expense of his fellow lords. “Welcome to the Lords’ Council.”
The other lords snapped their heads to see Lord Marak standing near the door. Lord Quilo started laughing, and the other lords shot him dark glares.
“So the boy lord has come to the table,” scowled Lord Mirakotto. “Is it normal in the frontier for people to stand behind the backs of others and eavesdrop on their conversations?”
Lord Marak walked around the table and sat in the empty chair. He fixed his gaze on Lord Mirakotto.
“About as normal as it is in the capital to place personal power over the good of the country,” he said softly to Lord Mirakotto. “Please pass the tea.”
“You make light of this?” snapped Lord Mirakotto. “My son is older than you, and he is years away from being ready to run a clan, not to mention sitting on the Lords’ Council.”
“And you would prefer that an older man sit here?” retorted Lord Marak. “Even if he does have the mind of a child? Look, Mirakotto, I did not ask for this seat, nor did I seek it in any way, but I am here now. We can act like adults and try our best to do the right thing for Khadora, or we can play childish games. Which shall it be?”
“Do not lecture me!” shouted Lord Mirakotto as he pushed back his chair and rose threateningly. “You may have gotten a seat on this council, but you will not be here for long.”
Lord Marak picked up the knife that was on the table before him. He let his eyes drop as he held the knife by the blade. For a long moment the room was deathly silent. Then Lord Marak looked up and locked his eyes on Lord Mirakotto’s.
“How long any of us will serve here is open to debate,” Lord Marak said in a stern tone as Lord Mirakotto’s eyes were drawn to the knife. “It is a debate that I am not ready to join at the moment. Do not push me, Mirakotto. You will strain your old heart.”
A long tense moment of silence followed Lord Marak’s threat.
“Well,” Lord Quilo said lightheartedly as he pushed back his chair and rose. “This has been a most interesting meal, but I have business to attend to.”
“As do I,” Lord Kiamesh nodded gravely as he too rose.
Lord Mirakotto snarled and spun towards the door. He stormed out of the room, and Lord Quilo and Lord Kiamesh followed him.
“You should not push him,” Lord Garic said softly to Lord Marak. “Woton was a dear friend of his.”
“I do not attack others,” Lord Marak replied as his eyes glanced towards Lord Patel, “unless I am attacked, but I can be counted on to defend myself without remorse.”
A thin smile crossed Lord Patel’s lips as Lord Garic rose and left the room. “A wonderful start,” Lord Patel quipped. “Not even the first day and you have made a powerful enemy. I would watch that one if I were you. Lord Mirakotto has been known to strike when it is least expected.”
“That is a sound strategy,” Lord Marak smiled in return as he rang the bell for a servant so that he could order his meal.
“There is no need to hurry your meal,” Lord Patel offered. “This afternoon’s meeting of the Assembly of Lords will be dry and uninteresting. It will be mostly closing comments. Unless of course you are eager to wallow in the ingratiating compliments that will be showered upon you.”
“That is not something that concerns me,” Lord Marak shook his head. “I am not interested in such things. Why only closing comments? There is another day of meetings scheduled.”
“Not any more,” Lord Patel replied. “The Emperor is declaring tomorrow a day of mourning for Lord Woton. The Assembly of Lords will be shortened.”
“Will the Lords’ Council meet?” questioned Lord Marak. “Or is everyone returning home?”
“There is no pressing business before the Lords’ Council,” answered Lord Patel. “I am not sure what the others are doing, but I am going home today. What are your plans, Lord Marak?”
Lord Marak could not help but smile as he pictured Lord Patel rushing home to organize an ambush of Lord Marak’s party returning to Fardale.
“I will linger in Khadoratung for a few days,” replied Lord Marak. “I need to find a residence in the city now that much of my time will be spent here. Perhaps I will return to Fardale the beginning of next week.”
“Well,” Lord Patel smiled innocently as he rose to leave, “I hope you have a safe journey home.”
Lord Patel left as the servant appeared to take Lord Marak’s order. After listening to the meal choices, Lord Marak decided to forego the midday meal. He finished his tea and left the dining room. Chard was waiting for him in the corridor.
“That was a short meal,” commented Chard.
“Indeed it was,” nodded Lord Marak. “It was not as comfortable as a family reunion.”
“I can imagine,” chuckled the Imperial soldier. “I watched Lord Mirakotto storm out of there. He was not a happy man.”
“Lord Mirakotto has problems with controlling his anger,” shrugged Lord Marak. “I wish to return to my quarters.”
Chard nodded and led the way downstairs. When they reached the Torak quarters, Lord Marak released Chard to go and eat. Lord Marak entered the quarters and the room exploded in congratulations.