Richard Tuttle - Winged Warrior

In his wanderings, the Torak ended up in the library. He was pleased to see that the shelves were lined with books. He suddenly stopped walking and stared at the section of the shelves that hid the secret doors in Angragar. With the urge of curiosity, he walked to the shelves and sought the secret lever. He was quite astonished when his hand came into contact with it. Looking around to ensure that no one was present, he pulled the lever. When the bookcase slid open, Marak slipped through the crack and pulled it closed. He shook his head in awe as he saw a single door in the hidden enclosure. Without a thought, he marched to the door and opened it. He stepped into the small enclosure and closed the door.

He cautiously opened the door and felt a coolness invade the small space. He exited the closet and walked to the spy hole behind the shelves. There was no one present in the library. He turned around and saw that two doors were behind him, the one he had just exited, and another. With a grin on his face, Emperor Marak released the catch on the bookshelf and walked into the library of the Chula temple. He closed the bookshelf and left the library.

A short distance away from the library was an office that was reserved for the priest. Marak walked to the office and peeked through the open door. A Chula shaman was in the room and his head immediately swiveled towards the door, his long mane swaying violently.

“Did I make too much noise looking in on you?” grinned Marak.

“You were silent as always,” grinned Ukaro as he crossed the room and hugged his son. “It is impossible to sneak up on a Chula shaman, though. We have a sense about things around us. How are you? Where are your shadows?”

“I am fine, Father,” answered Marak. “Halman and Gunta are still waiting for me outside the new temple in Khadoratung.”

“In Khadoratung?” the shaman frowned questioningly. “But how?”

“I am not sure myself,” shrugged Marak. “I was touring the new temple and found that one of the secret doors existed. I passed through it and came out here. There is now a second door in this temple.”

“Kaltara is aiding you,” smiled Ukaro. “It must be that you will have need for such travel.”

“I suppose,” frowned the Torak. “Something is bothering me, Father. I took the Lords’ Council to the prayer chamber in Khadoratung to meet Kaltara. He was reticent to speak to them, although he eventually did. How am I to convince others to follow Kaltara if He only speaks to me?”

“He does not only speak to you,” smiled Ukaro. “I think His hesitancy is that you may not demand that He speak to others. He will do so as He sees fit.”

“There is still the problem of convincing others,” sighed Marak. “I don’t know how to do it.”

“Stop worrying about it,” soothed Ukaro “Just do it. It will come to you. You must have faith in Kaltara before you can give it to others. He would not task you to a job without providing the skills necessary to finish it.”

“Alright,” nodded the Torak. “Your advice has always been good for me.”

“I see that you are making great progress with your Khadorans,” stated the Chula shaman. “We have noticed the difference already.”

“We have made progress,” replied the Torak, “but there is still more to do. One of the problems remaining has to do with the borders between the Chula and the Khadorans. Some lords have laid claims to Chula land.”

“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.