“Any word from the patrols?” she asked StormSong.
“Nothing,” declared the tall Sakovan. “SkyDancer will keep them looking even as we travel though. I can’t imagine how he could escape detection.”
“Let’s hope we are as good at it when we get into Omunga,” Lyra responded. “How do we enter the city with chokas?”
“We will switch mounts with one of the patrols,” StarWind explained. “StormSong sent one of them out with horses so we could make time with the chokas and then switch mounts with them.”
“Good idea,” Lyra nodded. “Are all of us necessary?” she asked StarWind, knowing the answer already.
“This is the smallest party I could put together,” the spymaster assured her. “We will be all right. StormSong and MistyTrail will split from us when we get close to the city. The rest of us will appear to be the same party coming back into the city that left under Minister Kapla’s authorization with the exception of you. SunChaser will be able to explain your presence somehow.”
SunChaser grinned as she looked at the Star of Sakova, “My younger sister perhaps. I will tell Kapla that you were living in my house up north and I had nowhere else to send you. He will not ask questions.”
“Very well,” Lyra sighed, “let’s get moving then. I want to be in Okata before Malafar gets there.”
***
“I see Okata is open for trade once again,” greeted Mayor Ferde.
“Welcome, Ferde,” responded First Minister Larst as he looked up from behind his desk. “It has been a long time. Yes, I finally managed to convince the Katana that we were only hurting ourselves by restricting access to the city.”
“And what of the assassin?” questioned the mayor as he sat in a chair across the desk from the First Minister. “Is there no longer any fear of him returning?”
Larst shook his head and sighed as he toyed with his long mustache. “The Katana still fears for his safety, but it lessens with each passing day,” replied Larst. “He is almost convinced that Malafar is probably dead. He did get hit in the back with a fireball before he escaped. Not many would even have had the strength to walk after such a wound. Besides, Malafar achieved his objective and there is no reason to believe that he would be foolish enough to try it again if he is still alive.”
“Why do you suppose he did it?” inquired Mayor Ferde.
“The Sakovans have always hated us,” answered Larst with a shrug. “The real question is why it never happened sooner. The Katana has had the palace mages working nonstop to strengthen his shields, so that the act cannot be repeated.”
The Mayor of Campanil crossed his legs, pulled out a pipe, and began stuffing it with bocco. The silence grew thick as the mayor grabbed a candle off the First Minister’s desk and lit his pipe.
“Larst,” Ferde said, finally breaking the quiet, “we have known each other a long time. As Minister of Trade, you were always reasonable and put the best interests of the whole country before anything else. I have admired that stance even when it meant a loss for Campanil. You have many years of service to our nation and you are knowledgeable in all areas. Why is it that you were not chosen to be Katana?”
Larst scrutinized his visitor with a puzzled brow trying to find a hint of a trap in the proffered question. It was treasonous to speak against the Katana and the mayor’s question could be posed to ensnare the First Minister out of his coveted position. Still, Ferde had always been friendly and courteous to him in the past, even when he had ruled against the mayor’s position. He pondered the implications of his answer before replying.
“The Katana’s Council voted for Alazar,” Larst finally answered. “He had more support than I did and contesting his election would not have been good for the country. We needed a new Katana quickly to bring order to the city and the government. While I am flattered that you think of me in such a high fashion, you must realize by my past actions, that I support the government without question and that includes the Katana.”
“So you did consider running for the position,” Ferde surmised. “How did you manage to become First Minister?”
The First Minister rose stiffly to his feet and glared at the mayor. “What is going on here?” he demanded. “First you favor me with your view of my patriotism and now you challenge my right to office. What game are you playing?”
Mayor Ferde waved his hand in a dismissive manner and smiled. “I do not question your right to office, my friend,” soothed the mayor. “I am merely curious about what transpired. You must understand that as mayor of one of the largest cities, I am privy to many things in the government, but the workings of the Katana’s Council is not one of them. I do not question your patriotism, as you should know from my earlier statements, but I also do not think that you blindly follow anyone, including Alazar. You are eminently qualified for the position, but I was under the belief that you held different views than Alazar and I am just curious why he selected you as First Minister.”
Larst’s glare softened slowly and he eventually nodded and sat back down. “I did try to become Katana,” admitted Larst. “It was clear that I did not have the votes and neither did Alazar. A long battle would have ensued if I had chosen to fight Alazar for the position. He knew this as well and offered me the position of First Minister to end the contest. The country needed leadership quickly and I accepted. It was more important to me to stabilize the nation than to advance my own agenda. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“Yes,” nodded Ferde. “I am sorry to seem to interrogate you, Larst, but I believed you to be a proud Omungan and not someone else’s dupe. I had to be sure.”
“Sure of what?” barked the First Minister. “You are beginning to sound like a conspirator and if that is where you are heading, I advise you to leave immediately.”
“I probably should do just that,” Ferde agreed, “but I care too much about our nation to ignore what I know. Frankly, I do not know what to do, which is why I came to you. I do not think our country has ever faced such a dilemma.”
“Once again I advise you to leave,” Larst stated adamantly. “I will not sit still for any treasonous talk and I do not wish to have you end your illustrious career in prison.”
Mayor Ferde frowned and rose from his chair. He turned to leave the First Minister’s office and suddenly sat back down in the chair. “There are other matters that I wish to discuss with you, if that is acceptable,” he stated.
Larst sighed and nodded.
“In fact, I have some good news,” smiled Ferde. “The people of Campanil will not starve this winter. We have more than enough watula to get us through until next harvest.”
The First Minister’s eyes widened in surprise. “That is wonderful,” he declared. “Where did it come from?”
“We found it stockpiled at one of the outlying farms,” Mayor Ferde replied without disclosing that he knew how it got there.
“Well make sure you guard it well,” cautioned Larst. “If the Sakovans find out about it, you may find your people hungry this winter yet.”
“I don’t think so,” Ferde frowned. “Our investigation indicated that it was not Sakovans who burned the fields.”
“What do you mean?” puzzled Larst. “I read the reports myself and it clearly showed that it was a Sakovan attack.”
“I had the case reopened,” explained Ferde. “I came across some disturbing information that did not mesh with the original report. When the new investigation was completed, it was clear that the attack was staged by Omungans intent on making it look like a Sakovan raid. I have a copy of the new report with me. You may have it.”
The First Minister took the offered report and read through it while the mayor sat puffing on his pipe, filling the room with a thick bocco scent. The First Minister frowned deeply as he set the report on his desk.