Richard Tuttle - Island of Darkness

“There is no one here now,” retorted the man, “but the midday meal approaches. A dining room is not where I would wish to be seen.”

“Very well,” nodded Temiker as he walked to another door leading off of the dining room. “This is my private office. Come in and explain what you are doing here.”

The man nodded gratefully and walked through the door to Temiker’s office. He sat in a chair before the desk while Temiker closed the door and walked around the desk to sit behind it.

“First you will remove your hood,” demanded Temiker. “I will see the eyes of who I am talking to.”

The man hesitated only briefly before complying. Temiker swallowed hard as he stared at the man’s face. The man’s snout, for that is what it was, had a split lip and long whiskers. A bushy mane ran from the man’s forehead to a golden drape over his shoulders, and the man’s cat-like eyes sparkled as they bore into his own.

“I am a Chula,” declared the man. “Please hear me out.”

Temiker pressed his lips tightly together as he nodded slowly.

“My name is Ukaro,” stated the man. “I am a shaman of the Zatong tribe in Khadora. I have been asked by Marak to come down here to investigate the mysterious disease affecting your crops.”

Temiker noted the lack of a title for Emperor Marak. He had heard stories of the Chula, but he had never met one. His eyes clinically studied the features of the cat-man while he digested the shaman’s words.

“Emperor Marak is known to me,” Temiker declared. “I am pleased that he would send someone to aid in our investigation, but I am surprised that a Chula would come at the behest of a Khadoran.”

“Marak is our Torak,” Ukaro stated. “Much like Lyra is the Star of Sakova, Kaltara has chosen Marak to lead our people.”

“I am Omungan,” Temiker replied swiftly. “Why do you mention Sakovans to me?”

“You are Lyra’s uncle,” purred Ukaro as his lips split in a wide grin. “I know that my sudden appearance here may be unsettling for you, but I spoke with Lyra when she visited Khadora recently. I know of your relation to her, as well as your support for the Sakovan people. I also know that you are Omungan by birth. Frankly, Omungans to me are as much flatlanders as the Khadorans, but in this situation we must work together. I see your relationship to the Sakovans as an unconscious attempt to be aligned with the forces of good.”

“Just what is it that you want me to do?” asked Temiker.

“I am not familiar with the land or the people down here,” Ukaro said. “You are. You stare at my face wondering if I am planning to eat you. How far do you think I would get investigating the crops of farmers who do not understand why I am here?”

“Not very far,” conceded Temiker. “You would be hunted as soon as you were reported.”

“And hundreds of Omungans would die needlessly,” grinned Ukaro. “That is not a solution to the problem.”

Temiker tilted his head and gazed at the shaman after his display of self-confidence. He began to wonder about the magics of the Chula.

“Can you transform into a cat?” asked Temiker.

“That was me,” confirmed Ukaro. “It is the only way that I could approach you without being seen. I am pleased that you are so considerate of cats. I appreciated the scratch.”

“I am sure that you did,” chuckled Temiker as he warmed to his visitor. “I am happy that Marak was able to convince you to come here and help. Do you think that you can discover what is affecting the crops?”

“I can only try,” shrugged Ukaro. “I will say that the Chula know a great deal about plants and growth, as well as the animal kingdom. I am willing to stay as long as it is necessary to find a cure for the Omungan problem. Will you help me?”

“Of course,” Temiker nodded. “I am well known in these parts, and I have had my students investigating the mysterious disease. The local farmers would not think anything of me stomping through their fields, even if I did have a hooded friend along. When would you like to start?”

“Today,” replied the shaman. “I would like to see a field that you consider the worst hit. The greater the devastation to the crops, the better for my study.”

“Then you are in luck,” frowned Temiker. “Alamar was the first region to be hit by this disease. It all started here and has since spread around the country. This region has all of the worst fields. You can have your pick.”

“Then let us get started,” Ukaro said as he rose.

“Before we leave,” interjected Temiker. “Were you serious in your boast about killing Omungans?”

“It was not a boast,” answered the shaman. “I did not come here seeking to kill flatlanders, but I am very capable of defending myself. I hope to avoid such confrontations.”

“I will help you avoid trouble,” offered Temiker, “but I am curious about your Chula magic. Perhaps you can teach me some of it?”

Ukaro’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at the flatlander. Chula magic was a closely guarded secret, but he also knew that Marak had already taken steps to change that tradition.

“Perhaps,” Ukaro eventually replied.

“Come in, StarWind,” Lyra said. “There is worry in your eyes, StarWind. Sit and tell me what is wrong this morning.”

“It is what I was expecting,” sighed StarWind. “I just did not expect it so soon.”

“A message from SunChaser?” Lyra asked.

“Yes,” nodded StarWind. “Imperial Guards have been leaving Okata all week. They have not been marching out of the city in large armies, which is why SunChaser did not pick up on it sooner, but the effect is the same. She invited General Kapla for dinner last night. He confirmed that the troops are filtering out of the city and regrouping.”

“Was she able to discover the destination of these armies?” inquired the Star of Sakova.

“We are the destination,” reported StarWind. “The Katana has instructed the army to find StarCity and destroy it. They plan on entering the Sakova over a broad front in great numbers.”

“So it begins,” Lyra frowned.

“Yes,” agreed StarWind, “but it gets worse. Our food shipments to the Omungan cities must be stopped immediately. The Omungans plan to follow any Sakovan caravans directly back here.”

“So we must let the Omungans starve in order to maintain our security?” questioned Lyra. “Surely there must be another way?”

“I cannot think of one,” replied StarWind. “There were caravans due to go out this morning for Campanil and Tanzaba. I ordered them to wait until you authorized them to proceed.”

“What of the other caravans?” asked Lyra.

“The caravans to Fortaka and Gatong should already be on their way back here,” answered StarWind. “The one to Alamar is probably just arriving there.”

“Are those caravans likely to be followed?” asked Lyra.

“We can’t know for sure,” admitted StarWind. “All three cities are far from Okata, but the troops have had a week to move about. I would feel safer if we ordered them to abandon the wagons and race back here.”

Lyra sat silently for some moments staring at the large wall map. The Sakova was a very large area and the Imperial Guards would not find StarCity easily, but their plan to follow the caravans held great risk to the secrecy of the location of the Sakovan stronghold.

“What has been the general feeling toward Sakovans in the cities?” she asked the Sakovan spymaster.

“The food shipments have greatly impressed the people of the Omungan cities,” answered StarWind. “In Alamar and Fortaka crowds gather and cheer when the caravans arrive. Campanil and Tanzaba are more subdued, but the appreciation is still great. I cannot imagine what the Omungan people will think when we stop the deliveries, but we must.”