“You are assuming a great deal,” countered Larst. “I have not been chosen yet.”
“Assuming that you are,” conceded Karnic.
“The use of magical shields to guard the Katana is well known,” replied Larst, “but the actual composition of the shields is a very closely guarded secret. I doubt that the Monitors will allow you to observe the procedure.”
“Well, a doubt can be overcome,” Karnic responded with optimism. “When does it occur? Is it right after the selection process?”
“Oh yes,” nodded Larst. “It is the first thing done to a new Katana. The Monitors take their task of protecting the Katana very seriously. The shields will be applied within minutes of the selection.”
“And that is likely to occur tomorrow morning?” mused Karnic. “Even if it is not you, it will be tomorrow that the decision is made. Isn’t that right?”
“That is the purpose of tomorrow’s meeting,” Larst nodded as his mind began to drift towards the meeting that would occur in the morning.
The room was silent for several moments as Larst thought about the upcoming meeting and the possibility of being chosen as the next Katana. Karnic walked over to the wall covered with bookshelves. He perused the numerous volumes that had been collected by First Ministers over the ages. He stopped and gazed at a particularly old volume. Its title suggested that it dealt with the genealogies of the early Omungans.
“Have you read all of these books?” Karnic asked, breaking the silence of the room.
“No,” the First Minister shook his head. “I have little time these days for reading. Why do you ask?”
“There are some valuable books in your collection,” responded Karnic. “A few of these are ancient.”
“They are the collection of the First Minister,” shrugged Larst. “I presume that they have been collected over the generations by every First Minister since the founding of Omunga. Their value is of no import. They will never be sold. They will remain here for the next First Minister.”
“As it should be,” nodded Karnic. “Still, they must be very interesting to read, like this old tome about the origins of the Sakovans.”
“The origin of the Sakovans?” echoed Larst. “I don’t remember seeing that one. It would be interesting to read. There is so little that we truly know about our neighbors.”
“It doesn’t look like it has ever been read,” Karnic commented as the First Minister started towards the bookshelves. “It must be as old as Omunga.”
“Then it would be a treasure indeed,” Larst said excitedly as he moved in front of Karnic and bent down to search the shelf. “Which one is it?”
Karnic’s hands shot out and grasped both shoulders of the First Minister. Excruciating pain shot through Larst as he gasped for breath.
“What are you doing?” he croaked weakly. “You are hurting me.”
“Not for long,” Karnic said softly with a smirk on his face. “I cannot allow you to receive those shields tomorrow. They would make it impossible for me to assume your body. Thank you for telling me the story of your life, Larst. No one will ever doubt that I am really you.”
The First Minister’s body stiffened, and Karnic’s body disappeared in a puff of smoke. Karnic’s clothes floated to the floor and landed in a heap. The new Larst grabbed the bookshelf and eased his body erect. He stretched cautiously as the feeling of his new body took hold of him.
For several minutes, Larst stood still, holding the bookshelf for support. Finally, he smiled and stretched with excitement. The First Minister bent down and scooped up the old clothes of the historian. He walked to the fireplace and threw the garments into the fire. He strode to the desk and sat in the luxurious leather chair and reviewed the papers on the desk. He knew when new guards would relieve the Imperial Guards outside the room. Until then he had to remain in the office so that no one would notice that Karnic had never left the room.
Chapter 2
The Weapon Called Food
Mistake gazed at the enormous canyon as she rode along its western rim. She felt her body shudder involuntarily as she rode close to the edge and tried to peer into its depths to see the bottom. She shook her head in awe.
“It is called the Wound of Kaltara,” HawkShadow declared. “God created it when he lost faith in the Sakovans.”
“Impossible,” Mistake said softly as she looked at the enormous gash in the surface of the planet. “It must be over a league to the other rim. Is that a river at the bottom?”
“The Kaltara River,” nodded HawkShadow. “The Wound of Kaltara is over a league wide and half a league deep. It runs for many leagues in each direction.”
“How do you cross it?” asked Mistake. “The walls are vertical cliffs. Surely these birds cannot fly across it?” she added, as her eyes fell to the choka she was riding.
“Certainly not,” chuckled HawkShadow. “Chokas are war birds. They do not fly at all. The fact is,” he continued, “you can’t cross it. It is an impenetrable barrier between the Sakova and that portion of Omunga to our east.”
StarWind snapped her fingers to get HawkShadow’s attention. Her fingers moved rapidly in a signaling fashion and the Sakovan assassin nodded.
“It is MistyTrail,” HawkShadow said softly. “She has been observing us for some time now.”
“Are you sure?” asked StarWind as Mistake turned her attention away from the majestic canyon. “Why haven’t we introduced Mistake to her yet?”
“I wanted to observe her technique for a while before we met,” shrugged HawkShadow. “It is not often that I get the chance to be an intruder in the Sakova. She has done remarkably well.”
“MistyTrail has been watching us?” Mistake asked nervously as she reached into her pack for the carozit. “You should have told me,” she frowned as she wondered what kind of impression she had made gawking at the canyon.
The carozit, a magical artifact, was given to Mistake by the Sage of the Mountain in Fakara. It was a simple polished stick with two metal balls attached to one end with strings. The magic affected the balls when the carozit was turned upside down. Instead of clanging together by the force of gravity, the balls would hang in the air to display the relative distance to your nearest relative. The Sage had given it to Mistake when she had told him of her search for her family.
Mistake turned the carozit upside down. The balls clanged together, and Mistake’s mouth fell open in awe.
“It is her!” shouted Mistake as HawkShadow and StarWind turned and stared at the carozit.
“She must be my sister,” Mistake continued excitedly. “I want to meet her now. Take me to her.”
HawkShadow nodded in amazement. He immediately turned to the west and headed for the forest. StarWind and Mistake followed him. HawkShadow led them into the forest until he found a suitable clearing. He dismounted and immediately moved towards Mistake to help her off the choka.
“I don’t need help getting down,” Mistake scowled as she slid to the ground.
“Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment,” warned HawkShadow. “The choka is not yet used to you. He can shred your skin swifter than an army of knives. Those talons are sharper than any blade.”
Mistake ignored HawkShadow and peered into the woods. She turned in a complete circle. Her face clouded over with concern when she did not see anyone.
“Why have we stopped here?” questioned Mistake. “MistyTrail is not here. Please take me to her.”
“Patience, little one,” smiled HawkShadow. “She will be here shortly. She must make sure that this is not a trap.”
“But surely she knows you and StarWind?” frowned Mistake. “Why would she think that you would trap her?”
“She does not know you,” StarWind pointed out. “MistyTrail knows what the procedures are for incursions into the Sakova. She takes her obligations seriously. Have patience, Mistake.”
Mistake pouted as she fiddled with her short brown hair. She straightened her clothes and brushed off the trail dust as her eyes continually scanned the forest around them.