“I can easily imagine that,” chuckled the Torak. “Alright, I will go there in the morning with Myka. We will clear the city before the ships arrive.”
“By yourself?” scowled Lyra. “That is just what I expected from you. I am supposed to hide myself so that I don’t get hurt, but you are going to fly in on your magic dragon and take on sixty men by yourself? I don’t think so.”
“Myka cannot carry a corte of soldiers on her back,” sighed Marak. “There is no land approach to the city, and the only ships we have in the area are the ones we don’t want them to know about. What do you expect me to do?”
“I expect you to come to Breele and pick me up,” answered Lyra. “I am not without capabilities of my own. We can split the Motangan soldiers between us. It will be safer that way.”
There was a long silence in the conversation and then Marak chuckled.
“It will be a three way split,” he announced. “I am sure that Myka will want to claim her third.”
“Then you will come to get me?” Lyra asked with astonishment.
“I left Myka at Changragar,” nodded the Torak. “I will be in Breele before sunrise. Place four torches in a square to mark a clear spot for the dragon to land.”
“Done,” Lyra replied excitedly. “I will let Temiker know what we are planning.”
Marak felt the air tunnel being dropped, and he turned to go inside. He found Fisher standing a few paces away.
“You have been working on your stride,” commented the Torak. “I did not hear you approach this time.”
“I have been more conscious of it,” smiled Fisher. “I have also been thinking a lot about your news this evening.”
“About Clarvoy coming to Khadora?” asked Marak.
“Yes,” nodded Fisher. “I want to get him.”
“I can well imagine that,” frowned the Torak, “but I advise you not to become obsessed with him. It will lead you to make mistakes, and mistakes can be deadly.”
“I will be careful,” promised Fisher, “but I wanted to ask a favor. You mentioned once that Lord Chenowith reviewed his father’s private papers. I understand that Emperor Bagora was noted for keeping extensive journals about every detail of his life. I would like to see those papers.”
“Inconceivable,” Marak shook his head. “Lord Chenowith felt guilty reviewing the papers, and he was Bagora’s son. He would never permit anyone else to see them. What could you possible want with those papers anyway?”
“Emperor Bagora was also noted for having an extensive network of spies,” answered Fisher. “I must know who they are.”
“Why?” puzzled the Torak.
“Few spies are ideological,” explained Fisher. “Most of them perform services for the gold. Oh, I can imagine that the Emperor had a fair number of spies who worked for him because they believed in him, but others saw only the money.”
“And what is the importance of this?” asked Emperor Marak.
“A spy that works for gold,” explained Fisher, “can be bought by many masters. I think that is how Clarvoy built his spy network. I certainly don’t think that many Khadorans would serve Vand for his ideology.”
“But Clarvoy could bring in people from Motanga,” Marak pointed out.
“True,” agree Fisher, “and no doubt he did, but those people will have no history in Khadora. Their access to really valuable information would be extremely limited. Clarvoy gets his really good information from professional spies, people who have been a part of Khadora all of their lives. These people sell their information for gold, and I believe that Emperor Bagora would have ferreted out every single one of them.”
“So Clarvoy and Bagora were using the same spies,” mused the Torak. “Your reasoning is sound, Fisher, but it leads nowhere. I would not even ask Lord Chenowith to allow you access to the journals. I personally know the anguish his own access has caused in his mind. He would not allow it. He would rather die than have his father’s papers read, and Khadora cannot afford to lose him. I cannot afford to lose him.”
“Even for a chance at Clarvoy?” frowned Fisher.
“Even for that,” nodded Marak. “I intend to defeat Vand with or without Clarvoy. I can only do that with the clans of Khadora united behind me. Lord Chenowith has made that possible in the past, and he continues to make it possible now. I could not ask that of him.”
“I understand,” Fisher nodded with defeat.
“Do you?” smiled Marak. “Fisher, I believe in you. Perhaps I believe in you more than you believe in yourself. I cannot ask of Lord Chenowith what you request of me, but you are resourceful. I have full confidence that you will snare Clarvoy.”
Fisher brightened at the Emperor’s words of encouragement. He smiled at the Torak and retreated from the roof of the palace.
* * *
The Walkan clan of Khadora had one of the largest estates in the Imperial Valley. It was one of the ancient founding clans of Khadora and had produced some of the country’s most notable lords. One of those notable lords was the late Emperor Bagora. The Walkan clan also had one of Khadora’s largest armies whose uniforms were red and blue, not too different from the red and black of the Ronan clan, seeing as the blue used by the Walkan clan was a deep, dark blue. The enormity of the Walkan army also allowed for officers that were not familiar with every single soldier on the estate.
As fate would have it, Fisher just happened to own a Ronan clan uniform that he had worn on the day Emperor Mirakotto and Lord Garic had mysteriously died. He now wore that red and black uniform again as he moved through the fields of the Walkan estate.
Fisher had been to the Walkan estate numerous times, posing as a merchant. He knew the layout of the mansion fairly well. In fact, he had managed over the years to gain entry to just about every major room in the mansion. Of course, there was one room that he was never allowed to enter. It was through no great feat of intelligence that Fisher knew his destination within the mansion. The question was how to enter the forbidden room without being caught. If he were apprehended, Lord Chenowith would be extremely irate. He would demand justice from either the new court system or from Emperor Marak. Either way, the Torak would find out, and Marak would be forced to punish Fisher. The spy knew that the Emperor would have to demand an execution in order to salve Lord Chenowith’s fury.
Dying to save Khadora did not trouble Fisher. He already assumed that he was near the end of his days, and he believed in the cause he was fighting for. What troubled the spy was the impact that his death would have on Marak. The Torak would undoubtedly blame himself for Fisher’s death, and that Fisher could not allow. To alleviate the problem, Fisher had brought poison with him. He had vowed to swallow that poison if he was captured during this mission. He was confident that he would not be recognized by Lord Chenowith or anyone else on the estate. His body would be buried, and Marak would never hear of it.
Fisher exited the field and walked along the path that led to the mansion. The moon was bright, but the grounds of the estate were quiet. For a large clan, the army presence on the estate at night was minimal. Of course, the current political climate in Khadora did not require a large security force for protection from your neighbors, but Fisher had expected to see more soldiers. The lack of patrols began to disturb him as he neared the mansion.
When Fisher rounded the rear of the mansion, he stopped and stared at the reason for the lack of patrols. The grounds were a mess. Cut trees dotted the landscape, and dozens of new wooden huts were in various stages of completion. At first Fisher was confused, but then he remembered hearing about the Sakovan resettlement program. Evidently, Lord Chenowith had his army working all day to create homes for the Sakovans. His appreciation for the man soared.
“Kind of amazing isn’t it?” came the female voice behind him.