Grefon smiled as the young Cortain walked out of the study. He had no doubt that the book would be returned soon, unopened. Cortain Marak would soon find out that buttering a Lord Marshal was not as easy as it looked.
Marak took the book and went to the private practice field. He sat under a sevemor tree and watched the men practice for a while and then started reading. As the Lord Marshal predicted, he found the book fascinating. There was not a great deal written about the Chula and Marak quickly devoured that section. The one part of the text about the Chula, which really struck him, was a suspicion that the cat people used a type of magic that was unknown in Khadora. The author made light of these suspicions, but Marak wondered if there could be other types of magic.
Instead of putting the book aside, he found himself reading about other indigenous peoples including the bird people who were called Omungans and lived beyond the Kalatung Mountains, which were not far south of Stony Brook. The very fact that his eight-pointed metal disc weapon was called an Omunga Star made him read the section. The author explained why the Omungans were called bird people. They did not resemble birds in any way, in fact, they appeared quite human. What was different about them was the fact that they rode on extremely tall and fast birds. The author claimed that the birds were actually faster than a horse and stood about ten feet tall. The Omungan warriors used a variety of weapons, but it was the Omunga Star, which was thrown even while mounted, that captured Marak’s interest. He completed the section on the Omungans, paying particular attention to the odd weapons they used and their tactics.
Marak looked up briefly at the practicing warriors and was pleased with the way Rybak’s men were fitting in. He turned back to his book and started reading about the Fakarans, or spider people, who lived beyond the Fortung Mountains far to the East. Less was known about the Fakarans than either the Chula or Omungans and the section was short. Marak did read that the Fakarans used two-handed swords with a double edge, carried in sheaths on their backs and wondered if that was where the sword he purchased had come from. There was a reference to stories about the Fakarans getting the name ‘spider people’ from the fact that they rode on large spiders, but the author openly laughed at the stories. The author claimed to have visited the Fakarans and not seen any evidence of large spiders.
Again Marak looked up and noticed that the men were quitting for the day. He gazed at the sinking sun and couldn’t believe that he had been reading all day. The men waved and nodded to him as they filed past to grab a quick dip in the icy cold stream. Marak picked up his book and decided to read just a bit more while the men bathed.
The next section was bizarre. It dealt with a people called Motangans, who live on a large island across the sea. Most of the commentary was tales from seaman who had either visited the island or sailed close to it. The Motangans were reportedly large apes with the intelligence of men. Marak read about grandiose ape cities and a civilization more advanced than Khadora. The Cortain wondered why, if the stories were true, the Motangans had never sailed to Khadora. If their civilization were so advanced, certainly they would have appeared on the shores and in the ports by now.
Squad Leader Tagoro interrupted Marak’s reading and Marak realized it was almost dark already.
“If you are planning to read through the night,” chuckled Tagoro, “I should bring you a lantern. A runner brought an invitation for you to dine with the Lord Marshal tonight. You had better hurry if you don’t want to be late.”
Marak rose and stretched his muscles. “Thanks, Tagoro,” smiled Marak. “I guess I lost track of time. I thought my eyes were getting tired, but it was probably the failing light.”
Marak explained some of what he had read as he and Tagoro walked back to the barracks. Marak put on a clean uniform and hurried to the mansion. A servant was waiting for him at the door and led him to a small, informal dining room. As Marak was shown in, the Lord Marshal rose and greeted him.
“Ah, our new Cortain. Welcome,” greeted Grefon. “I see you brought the book back already. You must be a fast reader.”
“Thank you, Lord Marshal,” answered Marak. “I guess I just have a problem putting a book down.”
Marak handed the book back to the Lord Marshal and Grefon grinned. He did not normally dine with a Cortain, not even a new one, but he was determined to put Marak’s attitude right before this buttering went any further.
“So, are you an expert on the Chula now?” quizzed Grefon as the servants brought out bowls of soup with large noodles and thin slices of clova meat.
“Certainly not on what is in this book,” chuckled Marak. “The sections on the other indigenous peoples were actually more interesting.”
Grefon shook his head as he savored the spicy broth. Marak could dance around all evening with vague generalities about the book, but the Lord Marshal was not going to allow it. “I think it rather strange that the Chula have even bothered to cross the Kalatung Mountains to harass us, don’t you?”
Marak found that the large noodles were actually packed with wasooki and almost choked on one when the Lord Marshal spoke. “Actually, Lord Marshal,” gasped Marak, “I didn’t read anything about the Chula crossing the mountains. The author indicates that they have always resided here. You are probably thinking about the Omunga. They ride large birds and live on the other side of the Kalatungs.”
“How do you know about the Omunga?” queried Grefon skeptically.
“They are described in the book you lent me,” replied the confused Cortain. “I hope I did not transgress, but I couldn’t put the book down and read the whole thing.”
“Preposterous!” exclaimed the Lord Marshal. “Look, Marak, I do not like my soldiers to butter up to me. You may be a slippery devil, but there is no need to continue this charade. I know why you borrowed the book and it will not work. I do treat my men with respect, but I also treat them equally. You will gain no favor with your ploys, so do not attempt them again.”
Marak put down his spoon and stood. “Lord Marshal,” he stated indignantly, “I appreciate the loan of your book and the invitation to dinner, but I will not have my word questioned. If you take my desire to know as much as I can about an enemy who may soon slaughter my men as an attempt to butter you, then you have certainly taken the wrong meaning to my actions. How much is your favor worth to a dead man? You are sending me and my men into Sitari Valley as bait. No one expects us to return, but I will do everything in my power to make sure my men do return. If the information can be found in a book or through the interrogation of a prisoner, what does it matter, as long as the needed information is gained?”
The Lord Marshal stared at his new Cortain in wonderment. If Marak was putting on a show, it was certainly a good one. Grefon decided that he needed to know what made Marak different from his other men.
“Sit,” ordered the Lord Marshal. “I have invited you to dinner, not a brawl. Tell me what you have read in the book I lent you.”
Marak sat and recited the stories he had read as the servants brought plates of rare wasooki in clam sauce and some type of grilled fish that Marak savored. By the time the servants were serving a lituk-flavored frozen cream, Marak had finished his recitation. Grefon smiled freely as he listened. He had read the volume himself only days ago when he was informed of the massacre in the Sitari Valley. The Cortain’s retention and understanding were excellent. Grefon began to wonder who the boy’s father might have been. The type of initiative the Cortain had shown was more typical of a Lord’s son than the son of a soil mage. Very few soldiers thought beyond the next chance to get to a tavern and that included most officers.
“I owe you an apology, Cortain,” offered the Lord Marshal. “I am so used to dealing with a different mentality that at times I forget people can be eager to learn new things. My library is available to you at all times. Make use of it. I do want you to know my feelings about Sitari Valley, though. I wanted you promoted to Cortain specifically to send you into Sitari Valley. My goal is not to send a Corte to its death. Your men are the best trained men we have and I think it is because you have managed to push them beyond what is normally taught.”