Richard Tuttle - Island of Darkness

“He is the only god,” nodded Lyra. “He is yours, too, if only you will let him be.”

“I have little faith in gods,” frowned the sailor. “If there were gods, the people would not suffer so.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe the people suffer because they do not have faith in god?” posed Lyra.

“I have never looked at it that way,” admitted the sailor. “Do all Sakovans believe in Kaltara?”

“Every one,” declared Lyra.

“Are they happy?” probed the sailor.

“Yes,” smiled Lyra. “They are happy with Kaltara. We could all live happy lives if it were not for men who thirsted for gold and power. This is the second time during my short life that the Katana of Omunga has declared war on the Sakovans. Each time it has been when the Omungans had troubles of their own. If they spent a fraction of their efforts in solving their own problems, they would have no reason to bother us.”

“I remember hearing of the last time,” responded the Omungan sailor. “The Sakovans burned watula fields in Campanil.”

“That was a lie,” frowned Lyra. “Mayor Ferde of Campanil exposed the lie. It was a trick by Alazar to stir the people towards war. You have seen Sakovans as few Omungans have. Do you really think that we would destroy Omungan crops?”

“I cannot imagine it,” admitted the sailor. “I think what you are doing for the people of Alamar is a wondrous thing. You have brought us food when our own government would not. The people will never forget that.”

“I wish that were true,” sighed Lyra. “If the Katana sends troops into Alamar, the people will forget our kindness soon enough.”

“Oh, no,” protested the sailor. “Never believe that. The people of Alamar would stand between you and the troops. They will never forget.”

“That is not the impression that I got from General Manitow,” retorted the Star of Sakova. “While he is willing to let the deliveries continue, he would change his mind quickly if Okata soldiers arrived.”

“He is an Imperial Guard,” explained the sailor. “They are servants of the Katana. He thinks the Katana is perfect and right in everything he does.”

“And you don’t?” inquired Lyra.

“You know little about the people of Omunga,” smiled the sailor. “The Katana means nothing to us. It may be different in other cities, but the provinces in the eastern part of the country feel like we are being used. In all of history there has never been a Katana chosen from the eastern provinces. They all come from the west. Most of them come from Okata. We have never even had a minister on the Katana’s Council. It is like we are ruled by foreigners.”

“Is that true?” Lyra asked with surprise. “Not a single minister has come from Alamar?”

“Not just Alamar,” corrected the sailor. “Duran and Zaramilden are eastern cities, too. Our half of Omunga is only good for paying taxes.”

“You do have Imperial Guards to protect you,” Lyra pointed out.

“Protect us?” chuckled the sailor. “From what? Are they protecting us from receiving food from the Sakovans? Do not be deceived. The Imperial Guards are in Alamar to maintain order, not to protect us. They are meant to stop us from revolting.”

“I can’t see General Manitow going so far as to slaughter the people of Alamar,” frowned Lyra.

“No,” admitted the sailor. “I don’t think he would either, but that is what he is supposed to do. The problem with the original plan for keeping order is that the regional Imperial Guards eventually become part of the city. In Alamar, practically all of the soldiers are either from the region, or have married someone who is. They are citizens as well as soldiers. If General Manitow ordered his men to attack innocent citizens, the soldiers would revolt.”

“Interesting,” mused Lyra. “What would happen if soldiers came in from Okata?”

“That is a different story,” frowned the sailor. “Those soldiers do not care for the people of Alamar. They would be merciless in quelling the disturbance.”

“What would the regional soldiers do then?” asked Lyra.

“I am not sure,” shrugged the sailor. “I know if their own families were threatened, they would join the citizens, but that is a hard question to answer. They would be torn between two loyalties. I think it would depend on how harsh the Katana’s soldiers became. If it was just a matter of halting demonstrations and things of that nature, I am sure the regional soldiers would not interfere. But if it is was bloody, I think they would defend the citizens if they thought they could make a difference.”

“You said before that the citizens of Alamar would stand between the troops and the Sakovans if trouble came,” reminded Lyra. “What would the regional soldiers do then?”

The sailor sat silently for a moment, staring at the Wall of Mermidion. Finally, he said, “I think they would stand with the citizens.”

“Why?” inquired Lyra.

“Because every citizen’s life would be in danger,” explained the sailor. “If we defied the Katana, the local soldiers know that the punishment would be death. They could not stand by and see their loved ones killed. They would stand by us.”

“Interesting,” must Lyra. “Let us hope that it never comes to that. I prefer to gain peace without bloodshed. Do you think the same would be true for the Imperial Guards in Duran and Zaramilden?”

“Duran has no real Imperial Guards,” replied the sailor. “They have men who are allowed to wear the uniforms, but they are strictly local soldiers. They receive no training and are not allowed to transfer. It is because Duran is so isolated.”

“And Zaramilden?” prompted the Star of Sakova.

“Zaramilden is not as isolated as Duran,” answered the sailor. “To reach Duran, you must go by boat. The Wall of Mermidion ends at Zaramilden, so there is access to the land, but it doesn’t help much. The only places they can go are into the Sakova or into Khadora. Some merchants do indeed cross the mountains into Khadora and then reenter Omunga near Gatong, but not many.”

“And of course armies would not attempt that route,” surmised Lyra.

“Oh no,” the sailor shook his head. “The Khadorans would never allow Omungan soldiers to enter their country. Sometimes they even turn the merchants back.”

“You have taught me much,” smiled Lyra. “What is your name?”

“I am called Chargo,” answered the sailor. “You have also given me much to think about. I would like to learn more about the Sakovans and Kaltara. It is said that you are the Star of Sakova. Is that like a Katana?”

“I am the leader of the Sakovans,” explained Lyra, “much like the Katana is the leader of the Omungans, but I think the similarities stop there. I was not chosen by the Sakovans to lead them. Kaltara chose me.”

“You were chosen by a god?” gasped the sailor. “Do you really mean that? How did he choose you? Were your parents leaders before you?”

“He prophesized my coming,” explained Lyra. “It was a shock to me as well as the Sakovans. I grew up in Omunga.”

“You are Omungan?” Chargo interrupted with surprise. “How can that be?”

“It is a long story,” Lyra said as she removed her ring and showed Chargo the blue star on her finger. “One day this star appeared on my finger. I did not know what it meant, but the Sakovans did. They proclaimed me to be their leader. I thought it was a mistake until Kaltara talked to me.”

“He actually talked to you?” Chargo asked in awe.

“He did,” nodded Lyra as she slipped the ring back onto her finger. “He made me understand what I needed to know.”

“What did the old Star do?” asked Chargo. “Did he step down or die?”