“Why are they refusing?” frowned the marshal. “Emperor Marak has the blessing of the Lords’ Council in this endeavor. Do they think the battle with the Jiadin is the end of our troubles?”
“Some do not see any troubles on the horizon,” conceded Lord Oktar. “They are demanding proof of the Emperor’s warnings.”
“How can he prove anything to them before the invasion is actually launched?” responded the marshal. “Must they see the armies of the enemy to realize the danger that they are in?”
“Some would probably try to find an innocent explanation even then,” sighed Lord Oktar. “I do not have much hope of success for this mission, but I promised Emperor Marak that I would try my best.”
“How long will you be away from the estate?” asked the marshal.
“Perhaps a week more,” shrugged the lord. “I do not plan to spend a great deal of time at any one estate. If they will not listen to my plea, I will leave for the next estate.”
“I want every precaution taken,” Marshal Berman demanded as he turned to the cortain beside him. “Lord Oktar is to be always surrounded by your men. Do you understand?”
The cortain nodded as the door to the common room opened. A middle-aged man entered the room. His dark cloak had a hood, but the traveler had chosen not to use it. His beady eyes scanned the room slowly as he took a seat at an empty table on the side of the room opposite the Balomar troops. The innkeeper delivered plates of food to some of the soldiers and then walked across the room to the newcomer. The stranger ordered a meal and a cup of ale. He stared vacantly across the room as he waited for his food.
Marshal Berman watched the new arrival in silence for a few moments. When the innkeeper delivered the man’s food, the traveler sniffed the plate cautiously, his hawkish nose crinkling with concern. He finally shrugged and began eating his food.
“Do you watch every traveler with such interest?” Lord Oktar asked as he noted the marshal’s distraction.
“I guess I do,” sighed the marshal as he returned his attention to the Balomar lord. “It is one thing to protect a lord against known enemies, but suspecting every unknown person has become irritating. I will feel safer when you are back on the estate. Perhaps I should double your guard.”
“An entire corte is more than sufficient,” Lord Oktar shook his head. “Any more men and I will go broke feeding them. Keep them training for what is to come.”
“Very well,” agreed the marshal as he watched the stranger devour his food and push his plate away from him.
The soldier across the table from the marshal noted the concern on his leader’s face. He turned to watch the stranger stand up and leave the table. The soldier’s hand drifted towards the knife in his belt, but he relaxed as the traveler turned and headed for the door.
“Now you have made your men nervous as well,” chided Lord Oktar as he shook his head. “If a traveler cannot stop at an inn for a meal, Khadora is in a poor state indeed.”
When the stranger reached the front door of the inn, he suddenly turned and threw a knife at Lord Oktar. The Balomar lord looked on in horror as the knife sped towards him. The room erupted in shouts with soldiers scrambling to their feet. Being crowded into the corner of the room, the lord knew there was no way he would be able to rise in time to avoid the knife. Lord Oktar closed his eyes as he waited for death to claim him.
The nervous soldier across the table from the lord rose quickly and threw his body into the path of the knife. He grunted quietly as the knife ripped into his flesh. His body fell onto the table, sending food plates and cups of ale flying.
A soldier closer to the door leaped to his feet and drew his sword. As the assassin turned to flee, the soldier shoved his sword into the door, slamming it shut. Another soldier drew his sword and attacked the stranger. With his back to the closed door, the assassin had nowhere to flee. The soldier’s sword struck the assassin in his left eye. The stranger slammed backwards into the door and tumbled to the floor.
Marshal Berman leaped onto the table and ran towards the front door. He shouted orders to secure the entire building as he raced across the room. Soldiers immediately seized the innkeeper and the other travelers in the room as the marshal knelt next to the assassin and searched his body. Marshal Berman rose with a disgusted sigh.
“Throw the body outside,” commanded the marshal. “I will not have him fouling the air in here.”
Two soldiers opened the door and tossed the body outside while the marshal marched back to the table of Lord Oktar.
“I owe you an apology,” Lord Oktar said softly to Marshal Berman as two soldiers lifted their wounded comrade off of Lord Oktar’s table and placed him on the next one. “I could not imagine such an attack. How could he have possibly hoped to survive?”
“Overconfidence?” shrugged the marshal. “I really cannot fathom what goes through such a mind. There was nothing on his body to identify him in any way. He had a small pouch of gold and nothing else. We don’t even know what clan he hails from.”
“Is he dead?” asked Lord Oktar.
“Very much so,” nodded Marshal Berman. “I wish I could have interrogated him before he died. Barring that, I can make no sense of his attack.”
“Perhaps some people around here will recognize him,” suggested the cortain. “I could have my men start asking around.”
“No,” the marshal replied adamantly. “Get your other two squads fed. You are escorting Lord Oktar away from here within the hour. I will stay and see if I can find any clues as to his identity.”
The cortain nodded and ordered the squad to go outside and relieve one of the other squads. Marshal Berman walked over the wounded soldier.
“I’ll be alright, Marshall,” smiled the soldier as he held a rag to the wound in his side.
“You acted properly,” nodded the marshal. “Your act of bravery will be rewarded. You will stay with me, and I will get you to a healer. Are you well enough to ride?”
“I can ride,” nodded the soldier. “It looks worse than it is. I will be alright.”
The squad of soldiers entering the inn paused and looked around the room. Several soldiers still held the innkeeper and the travelers at sword-point. The squad leader issued crisp instructions to his men and they relieved the soldiers still on duty.
“What are we to do with these men?” the squad leader asked the cortain.
The cortain turned to Marshal Berman for orders.
“Let them go,” sighed the marshal. “I think the assassin was working alone.”
“Assassin?” questioned the squad leader. “What assassin?”
“The one who tried to kill Lord Oktar,” snapped the marshal. “You had to trip over his body to get in here. Concern yourself with your orders and not foolish questions.”
The squad leader felt thoroughly rebuked, but he was still confused. He inhaled deeply to summon his courage and then faced the marshal.
“Begging the marshal’s pardon,” the squad leader said sheepishly, “but there was no body outside. I did not know there was an attempt on Lord Oktar’s life.”
The marshal opened his mouth to berate the squad leader, but he stopped before he had issued a syllable. He rushed to the door and threw it open. He stepped outside and scanned the area for the assassin’s body, but he found nothing.
“He must have an accomplice,” shouted the marshal. “Did you see anyone carrying a body away from the inn?”
“I only saw one person leave the inn since we arrived,” answered the squad leader. “He was a strange looking man with an eye put out. He rode off just a few moments before we were relieved.”
“That is impossible,” shouted the marshal. “That man was dead. I checked him myself.”
“He still knew how to ride a horse,” the squad leader replied sheepishly.
* * *
The river barge bumped to a halt as the lines tugged on the pilings. Mistake adjusted her stance as the movement threatened to topple her.