“They would be eager to shed their estates of the untrained mages they already have,” brightened Lord Marak, “especially if I were to sell the mage services inexpensively.”
“Exactly,” Master Malafar nodded vigorously. “You will actually end up controlling all of the mages in Khadora. Oh, someone might try to start another school to be in competition with you, but mages cannot be treated as slaves and still prosper. No Khadoran would free his slaves to be your competition.”
“You are a genius, Master Malafar,” laughed Lord Marak. “We have acquired so many mages that I am having a hard time keeping up with the housing needs here in Fardale. Sooner or later their practice field would have to become known to my enemies. I shall see to having that school set up right away. I do wish you would stay here longer. You may have other ideas that would prove helpful.”
“I cannot delay any longer,” Master Malafar objected. “Three days is all I will spend here. I should have left when we first arrived last month, but I wanted to do something for you as a payment for your help in Omunga. Without your interfering, I would have remained ignorant of my own people’s deceit. Now I can consider you repaid.”
“Very well,” Marak frowned as he realized the Master Malafar was being helpful just to ease his conscience and not because he wanted to help with the problems facing Fardale or Sakova. “How will you break this news to your daughter?”
“Lyra has no say over what I do,” Master Malafar stated sternly. “She must rule her Sakovans, and I want no part of that. That chapter of my life is over. I merely want to find a hole to crawl into and disappear. She will just have to accept it.”
“I am having a meeting tonight with Lyra and some of the clan lords that swear allegiance to me,” Lord Marak mentioned in a last attempt to lure Master Malafar into helping out. “I would like you to attend if you don’t mind. As long as you are spending three more days here, let me see if I can tap into your brilliant mind for some more help.”
“Were I a woman, Lord Marak,” chuckled Master Malafar, “I would learn to be leery of your soft-spoken words. You sprinkle honey across the ground hoping to attract something useful. I will attend your meeting, but you will be disappointed if you expect me to suddenly carry your banner. I know the future of my life, and it does not intersect with yours or Lyra’s. In fact, it does not intersect with anyone’s. I just want to be left alone.”
Chapter 3
Meeting of the Lords
As Lord Marak and Master Malafar approached the mansion in Fardale, the bursar, Kasa, ran down the steps to greet them.
“You are safe,” Kasa blurted out. “I wish you would not go off without letting me know. All of the lords of your other estates and clans arrived yesterday for the meeting that you requested. I have had trouble avoiding their questions about where you were.”
“I am sure that you handled it well,” smiled Lord Marak. “I want to invite Lyra and Master Malafar to attend the meeting as well. When it is over, I want you to meet with Master Malafar. He has some interesting ideas about a mage school that I think you should hear.”
Kasa glanced at the Omungan mage as she nodded. “I also have a stack of contracts that require your signature, and the Lord Marshal needs to see you immediately upon your arrival.”
“Is there trouble?” the Khadoran lord asked.
“Lord Marshal Yenga would not reveal it if there was,” frowned Kasa. “He shares nothing until you have heard it first.”
“As he should,” Lord Marak smiled as he saw the frustration in Kasa’s face. “You worry too much, Kasa. Why don’t you and Master Malafar discuss the mage school now and I will see Lord Marshal Yenga. The meeting can wait a few more minutes. Don’t forget to invite Lyra.”
Kasa nodded, and Lord Marak vaulted up the stairs and into the mansion. He moved swiftly to Yenga’s office before any of the visiting lords had a chance to notice that he had returned to Fardale. He hesitated in the doorway and viewed the Lord Marshal talking to a merchant.
“Come in,” prompted Yenga. “I have been waiting for you to return.”
Lord Marak entered the office and gazed at the merchant. Suddenly he grinned broadly and slapped the merchant on the back.
“I should have realized that no ordinary merchant would be visiting my Lord Marshal,” smiled Lord Marak. “What brings you to Fardale, Fisher?”
“Your service,” answered the spy. “I have been picking up bits of information that I felt must be shared with you.”
“Then let the three us talk,” nodded Lord Marak as he pulled a chair over towards the desk and sat down. “First, what is so important that my Lord Marshal demands my immediate presence?”
“Another caravan has been ambushed,” replied Lord Marshal Yenga as deep lines etched across his forehead.
“How did we find out about it?” asked Lord Marak.
“One of our men, Netura, sent a message via an air tunnel from River’s Bend,” stated Lord Marshal Yenga. “He is a smart lad to have stopped in River’s Bend. Most would have ridden all the way back here to Fardale.”
“So we had survivors this time,” responded Lord Marak.
“Only Netura,” frowned Yenga, “and he survived only because Hira had ordered him to flee. Netura was not happy about abandoning his squad leader.”
“Hira was a good squad leader,” Lord Marak said sadly. “He will be missed. What do we know about the attackers?”
“They were dressed as gray warriors,” replied the Lord Marshal, “but Netura believes that it was a disguise. The attack was efficiently executed, and the enemy took pains to ensure that not a single one of their men was exposed to danger.”
“So it is a clan that wishes to hide these attacks from even their own people?” questioned Lord Marak. “Why?”
“That is what Fisher and I have been discussing,” answered Yenga. “The only plausible reason that we can think of is the troops that are doing the ambushing are not from the local estate.”
“You are saying that a large clan is attacking us,” Lord Marak asked, “but they are using troops from a different estate? Why would they do that if they have an estate close to the ambush site?”
“Loyalty,” answered the Lord Marshal. “Typically, the troops under the direct control of a lord marshal can be counted on to remain quiet about their missions. The local troops might gossip too much, and the ambushes would become known to others.”
“So a lord sends troops to an outlying estate with special orders from the lord marshal of the clan,” interjected Fisher. “The local estate will house them and feed them, but will not interfere in any other way. The local marshal would not even be informed of what their mission is.”
“That does not help a great deal,” frowned Lord Marak. “There are many clans in Khadora that have multiple estates.”
“We can narrow it down,” declared Fisher as he rose and walked to a wall map of Khadora. “We now know the location of the attacks. The ambushers were foolish to allow one of your men to escape.”
“Where was the attack?” asked Marak as he walked to the map.
“At the foot of the Three Sisters Mountains,” Fisher said as he pointed to a spot on the map. “The road is fairly well traveled, but the ambush was timed well. Netura was away from the squad at the time. He was selecting a camping spot for the night. Few travel the road at night, and journeys are normally planned in the mornings, or at least scheduled so that they can be completed by nightfall. Only Imperial troops would travel the road at night. The road was deserted.”
“So they knew the caravan was coming,” nodded Lord Marak. “I suspect they had scouts checking its progress during the day.”