“That is to be expected of a people who have always sought our lands,” shrugged Ukaro. “What will you do about it?”
“I am not sure yet,” answered Marak. “I may ask the Chula to give up some lands to solve the problem. I will review each claim personally.”
“You have the right to do so,” frowned Ukaro, “but use it wisely. Such decisions could foster bitterness if not done carefully. The goal is to unite your peoples, not drive them apart.”
“I understand,” nodded Marak. “I should return to Khadoratung. Give my love to mother.”
“She will be sorry to have missed you,” Ukaro smiled warmly.
The Emperor returned to the library and passed through the secret doors to the temple in Khadoratung. Gunta and Halman were waiting anxiously outside the temple.
“At last,” sighed Gunta. “I do not care to be apart from you for so long.”
“If I am not safe in the temple of Kaltara,” smiled Emperor Marak, “where can I be safe?”
“Between Halman and me?” grinned Gunta.
“I always seem to get attacked when you two are around,” chuckled the Emperor. “We are returning to the palace where I also do not need your protection. You should take some time off for yourselves. Have a meal and rest a bit.”
“After you are safely inside the palace,” declared Halman.
Emperor Marak nodded, and the three Torak warriors walked from the temple to the palace. Marak’s shadows escorted him to his office and then left. The Emperor walked to the large wall map of Khadora and stared at it. He tried to envision the attack that Vand would throw at him, but he soon realized that looking at just Khadora prohibited him from seeing the whole story. He made a mental note to order a map of the land stretching from the ancient city of Angragar to the southernmost point of the Sakova. A knock on his door drew his attention, and he granted authorization to enter. An Imperial Guard entered and waited for permission to speak. Marak nodded.
“There is a merchant at the entrance to the palace that demands to speak to you,” declared the guard.
“A merchant?” frowned the Emperor. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“No,” the guard shook his head. “In fact, the guards are at a loss as to why he would wish to speak to the Emperor. He is not a well-known merchant that might sell goods to the palace. He runs a small stall in the marketplace. Should I turn him away?”
Marak stood silently for a moment, wondering if it might be an assassination attempt. Finally, he shook his head.
“No,” answered the Emperor. “Treat him with the same respect that you would extend to a lord. Bring him up to see me.”
The guard nodded and withdrew from the office. Marak walked to the window and gazed out at the city of Khadoratung. He knew the visitor would not be Fisher in one of his many disguises because he had already spoken to his spy. Marak subconsciously fingered the pouch that held his Sakovan stars while he waited for the knock on the door. He did not have to wait for long. The knock shattered the silence of the office, and the Emperor gave his approval for the merchant to enter.
Marak turned to face the door as a tall, lean man was shown in. The man’s face showed the strain of many years in the sun, but he was not yet old and frail. The man’s tunic was clean, but showed obvious evidence of many repairs. Marak surmised that the man’s stall was not very productive. The man bowed with respect, and the Emperor nodded for the guards to leave. The merchant waited for the doors to close before speaking.
“Thank you for seeing me,” the merchant bowed. “I am called Pialorta. I am but a small merchant in the marketplace here in Khadoratung.”
“Welcome, Pialorta,” smiled the Emperor as he walked behind his desk and waved at the chair before it. “Sit down and tell me what has brought you here today.”
The merchant moved hesitantly to the chair and finally sat down, but Marak could tell that the man was extremely uncomfortable in the presence of the Emperor.
“I truly do not understand why I am here,” confessed the merchant. “In fact, I was sure that I would be turned away when I asked to speak to you.”
“Then why did you try?” asked Emperor Marak.
The man chewed on his lower lip as he stared across the desk at the most powerful man in Khadora. His hands began to shake. Several silent moments passed between the two men before the merchant spoke haltingly.
“You will think me a fool, Emperor Marak,” the merchant began, “but I was instructed to speak to you.”
“Instructed by whom?” questioned the Emperor.
“By God,” the merchant swallowed hard. “I cannot explain this very well, but I was standing at my stall in the marketplace when suddenly I grew very dizzy. I shut my eyes to clear my vision and heard a booming voice inside my head. My eyes flew open and I was amazed at what I saw. It was not the busy stalls of the marketplace, but a lush green valley with animals frolicking in the meadow and a cool clear stream running before me. It was a most relaxing sight.”
“What did this voice say?” prompted the Emperor.
“He introduced himself as Kaltara,” the merchant continued, pleased that the Emperor had not immediately called the guards to have him evicted. “He told me that my merchant days were over. He said I had a higher calling in this life. He instructed me to visit the Emperor who was known to him as the Torak. I know that your clan name is Torak, so I assumed that you were indeed the Emperor that I was to seek. If not you, who could God have meant for me to speak to?”
“I am the Torak,” confirmed Marak. “Did Kaltara tell you what it is that you are supposed to do?”
“No,” the merchant shook his head. “I was too afraid to ask at first.”
“At first?” echoed the Emperor.
“Yes,” the merchant nodded vigorously. “I was afraid at first, but Kaltara took my fears away from me. After that point I found that I no longer cared what my task was to be. I knew that I would give up my stall and do whatever God asked me to do.”
“Are you a religious man?” asked the Emperor.
“I have never been before,” admitted Pialorta. “I have given as much thought to God as the average Khadoran, which is to say, none at all.”
“But you believe in Kaltara now because he spoke to you?” inquired the Torak.
“It was not just the words,” Pialorta shook his head. “It was much more than that. I felt Kaltara within me,” he added with reverence. “I want to run and shout to everyone in the marketplace, but that is not what I was instructed to do. I came immediately to the palace. What am I to do, Emperor Marak?”
The Emperor stared blankly at the merchant for a long time without answering. Pialorta appeared to have calmed down once his message had been delivered. He sat and waited patiently for the Emperor to speak. Finally, Marak grinned broadly at Pialorta.
“You know, don’t you?” asked the merchant. “I can see it in your face.”
“I do indeed understand,” smiled Marak as he rang the bell on his desk to summon the guards. “It was not long ago that I asked Kaltara for help. You, Pialorta, are that help.”
The guards entered the room with their swords drawn. Marak waved dismissively at them and said, “Send a tailor up here immediately.”
The guards withdrew and Pialorta looked questioningly at the Emperor.
“You shall have the chance to speak to the multitudes in the marketplace,” smiled the Torak. “You will speak to thousands of Khadorans about Kaltara, and you will explain how to worship him.”
“Me?” balked the merchant. “I do not understand.”
“You are to become the Priest of Kaltara here in Khadoratung,” declared the Emperor. “The new temple is ready to be filled with the voices of thousands of worshippers. You shall gather the faithless and teach them to become the faithful.”
Emperor Marak had expected the merchant to protest, but Pialorta merely sat with wide-open eyes, staring at the Emperor. Finally, he nodded.