Fisher slid past the bookshelf into the small alcove. He pulled the bookshelf closed and turned to examine the small room. He saw nothing other than a door and frowned. No doorway had been in the alcove during the construction. He was sure of that. The spy eased the mysterious door open and looked into a small, empty closet. His mind swam with confusion.
Fisher checked the small alcove one more time before stepping into the closet. It was extremely dark inside the closet so Fisher withdrew a candle from his pouch and lit it. Fearful of someone accidentally seeing the glow from his candle, Fisher closed the door to the closet and began inspecting every section of the walls for something that might not be obvious. He found nothing. Frustrated by the mystery, Fisher blew out the candle and opened the door. A cold breeze flowed across his feet, and the spy became instantly alert.
Fisher stowed his candle in a pouch and drew a dagger. It was a warm sunny day in Khadoratung, so Fisher assumed that a wizard created the cold breeze. He slowly moved out of the closet and eased the door shut. As he looked around the alcove, he frowned at seeing a second door leading off of it. He knew that there had only been one door a moment ago.
Fisher was about to examine the second door, when he heard a noise in the other direction. He moved up against the back of the bookshelf and put his ear to it. He could hear people talking in the library, but he could not hear what they were saying. He saw a tiny stream of light coming through a hole and moved his eye towards it. He inhaled deeply as he gazed into the library. There were two Chula in the library cleaning the floor.
Fisher stood silently for a long time trying to figure out what was going on. Eventually he slid his dagger into its sheath and turned to gaze at the two doors behind him. He wondered where the second door went.
Loud noises drew Fisher’s attention back to the spy hole. He watched as the Chula left the library. With no one in sight, Fisher fingered the latch used to unlock the bookshelf. He pushed it open and walked into the library, pushing the bookshelf back in place. He strode out of the library as if he had just entered it to replace a book. The coolness in the air confirmed that he was no longer in Khadoratung.
“So this is how Marak has been moving around so swiftly,” he softly mused to himself as he reached the outside entrance to the temple at Changragar.
“Ah, favored son of the Kywara,” Ukaro called in greeting as he approached the entrance to the temple. “I had not heard that you were skulking around these parts.”
“It is not a planned trip,” Fisher replied smoothly. “Is Rykoma around?”
“I certainly hope so,” answered Ukaro. “I have come to speak with the Head Shaman of the Kywara. Have you looked in the office in the temple?”
“No,” replied Fisher. “I just arrived myself.”
Ukaro halted and stared questioningly at the Kywara spy. The shaman had just hiked up the mountain trail leading to Changragar, and he would have seen Fisher had he been on the trail.
“Do not ask,” smiled Fisher. “Let’s go see Rykoma together. I would like your input as well on a problem that I have.”
Although puzzled by Fisher’s mysterious appearance, Ukaro nodded and walked alongside the spy as they made their way to the office inside the temple. Rykoma smiled broadly as the pair entered the office.
“This has the makings of an interesting day,” greeted Rykoma. “What brings the two of you to see me?”
Ukaro immediately nodded to Fisher to proceed with his problem first.
“I need the services of a young shaman,” Fisher declared. “He must be powerful, both in magic and in endurance. He is likely to die in my service. Can you recommend anyone?”
“You do not ask for much,” Rykoma replied sarcastically. “Why must he be young?”
“I do not want him to have taken the rites that change his physical features,” answered Fisher. “I want someone who can blend in.”
“You want an expendable spy?” frowned Ukaro. “Is this something that the Torak has requested?”
“No,” answered Fisher. “In fact, I think the Torak would frown upon my asking for one.”
“Yet you expect us to look favorably upon your request?” retorted Rykoma. “It is not the Chula way to throw life away. Life is sacred and to be cherished.”
“You should not ask others to do what you would not do yourself,” added Ukaro. “I am disappointed in you, Fisher.”
“I would prefer to go myself,” replied Fisher, “but the Torak has forbidden it.”
“Sit and explain,” Rykoma ordered as he sat down himself.
“For some time,” Fisher began, “I have had a spy on the Island of Darkness. It is not someone that I sent there, but rather one who volunteered on his own. You may know him as Aakuta or Master Malafar. In any event, he has been sending information to mages at Raven’s Point. I have been getting the information and passing it on to the Torak. During the rescue of the elven king, Aakuta’s nature may have been discovered. I fear that he will soon cease passing information to me.”
“So you want someone to go to the Island of Darkness and replace him?” asked Ukaro.
“Aakuta needs to be replaced,” nodded Fisher. “The information of the timing of their attack is vital. Without that knowledge, it is likely that we will lose the coming war.”
“And Marak has refused to let you go?” questioned Ukaro.
“He has forbidden it,” nodded Fisher. “He feels that he needs me more here. I cannot think of anyone who can possibly survive for a time on the Island of Darkness other than a Chula shaman.”
“Your request makes sense,” nodded Rykoma, “but the Chula are not well versed in the ways of the Motangans.”
“I know,” agreed Fisher. “I have heard the tales of Mistake and MistyTrail and their time on the Island of Darkness. I think if a shaman could survive among the mountain peaks, he might be able to remain safe.”
“He would provide little information being isolated in that way,” stated Ukaro.
“I understand,” replied Fisher. “While the information that Aakuta is sending is valuable, I would be satisfied with just the timing of the invasion. A man on the mountain peaks would be able to see Vand’s fleet as it readied to depart the island. Patrols seldom cross the peaks, and should that happen, there is that small cave that the girls hid in.”
“It might work,” mused Rykoma. “Calitora is very powerful for a young shaman. He is also a superb warrior, and his endurance would be excellent.”
“He is also reckless,” warned Ukaro. “Perhaps a better choice would be someone who would be more willing to remain on the mountain peaks and not journey down to see what others are doing.”
“Entering the cities would be suicidal for someone not trained in the ways of the Motangans,” agreed Fisher. “The spy is to remain on the mountains. I do not wish to gift the Motangans with a Chula body.”
“Not to mention the information that could be gleaned from the interrogation of a Chula shaman,” added Ukaro. “I would suggest someone with less curiosity.”
“There are no others that can match Calitora’s skills,” sighed Rykoma.
“You are not limited to only the Kywara tribe,” shrugged Ukaro. “There are other Chula tribes that have young shaman. I am sure that the Zatong can offer a replacement.”
“I have no authority over the Zatong or any other Chula tribe,” countered Rykoma. “While I can parley with them and get them to offer up one of their sons for this mission, I do not think that we can afford to waste time on this. I will send Calitora.”
“Thank you,” Fisher bowed respectfully to the Kywara shaman. “I will leave the two of you to discuss other things.”
Fisher left the office and returned to the library. He quickly slipped the hidden catch and moved into the small alcove, closing the bookshelf behind him. He walked hesitantly to the door that he had not used before. He stood before it in the dark and contemplated where it might lead. Steeling his nerves, the spy opened the door and stepped into the closet. He closed the door.