Richard Tuttle - Star of Sakova

“I am not asking your permission,” corrected StarWind. “You and the rest of Omunga have been fed a lot of nonsense about what the Sakovans have done. If the Omungans refuse to act against Alazar though, we must, and that will lend credence to the lies already spread. Those who seek war will have a stronger voice then. I would prefer that you remove Alazar yourself after you are convinced of his deeds, but at least do not allow a war to come out of it if we must do it. This man has stolen your country.”

“I need time to think on this,” frowned Ferde. “First I must verify your story. I warn you, if it is false, expect me to lead the charge to war. If it is true, however, I will lead the charge towards peace. As for Alazar, I do not know. If he has assassinated the old Katana, then he deserves to die, whether he used Malafar or not. Give me time to dwell on this.”

“Fair enough,” conceded StarWind. “You can get word to me through the bulletins. If you will help quell the calls for war afterwards, run an advertisement asking for a translator. If no advertisement appears, I will know your answer. Now can you help get us out of here or must we sneak out as we came in?”

“I will get you out,” Ferde stated as he scribbled a note on a pad he picked up from his nightstand. “This will explain that you were guests here and that you are leaving early to travel to Okata. It will get you past the guards out front. I trust they are all still alive?”

“Yes,” sighed StarWind. “There is a man on the second floor locked in a storage room, but he has nothing more than a headache. I apologize for hitting him, but we did need to see you.”

Ferde nodded as he handed the note and star over his shoulder to HawkShadow. “I would like to meet you in person someday when this is all over,” he said pleasantly. “You believe in Sakova as I believe in Omunga and your courage has been shown. There might be much we can share.”

“Perhaps that will happen,” StarWind smiled. “Please lie face down while we leave.”

The spoon spun around swiftly, gyrating like a top, as it cast reflections of brilliant sunlight around the field and across the buildings near the practice field.

“Too fast,” cautioned Temiker. “You do not need that much energy. You are shouting at it; try whispering.”

Lyra pressed her lips tightly together as she eased the energy flow to the metal spoon that spun on the table forty paces away. Slowly the spinning subsided.

“Good,” nodded Temiker. “Hold that energy level and move the spoon to the edge of the table. Remember, whisper.”

Lyra did not acknowledge her mage uncle as she complied with his instructions. Slowly and smoothly the spoon slid towards the nearer edge of the table and hung precipitously at the edge.

“Now,” Temiker continued, “call it home, but gently.”

Lyra nodded and the spoon fell off the table as she interrupted her concentration. Realizing that she had allowed her thoughts to sway from her task, she tried desperately to correct the situation and summoned the spoon to her as she stretched out her hand to catch it. Temiker dove at Lyra and pushed her to the ground as the spoon came flying towards her like an arrow.

Temiker rose and helped Lyra to her feet and began brushing the dust off his robe. “Much too much energy,” he sighed. “That spoon would go right through your body with that much force. You must learn to use just enough energy to accomplish the task and no more. You are far too powerful for your own good.”

“Sorry,” Lyra replied sheepishly. “Guess I have too much on my mind. Let’s break for a while.”

“Definitely a good idea,” nodded Temiker. “This old body is not used to diving through the air anymore. I must learn to get more physical exercise if I am to keep dodging your mistakes.”

“You move pretty well,” chuckled Lyra. “Thanks, Uncle Temiker. You have the patience of Kaltara with me.”

Temiker smiled at Lyra and shook his head. “I would have loved to have you as my student all these years. I never knew the potential of your power. I doubt Malafar knew either.”

“How is he doing?” questioned Lyra.

“Good and bad,” Temiker replied, brushing the dirt out of his beard. “LifeTender has put him on a diet of swamp grasses and herbs to leech the drug out of his body. He absolutely hates it, but surprisingly he has accepted her direction. I think it is doing wonders for him. Some of that old sparkle is back in his eyes. He does not appear to be bothered by fits of confusion anymore and is actually quite lucid in his comments and discussions.”

“That is wonderful,” smiled Lyra. “I don’t see anything bad in that. What concerns you?”

Temiker motioned to Lyra and walked over to a bench alongside the building. Lyra followed him and sat next to him, trying to anticipate what was troubling her uncle.

“Now that he thinks clearly,” Temiker began, “he sees what a fool he has been. I think Lord Marak opened his eyes at the strategy meeting to the real character of the Sakovan people, a race he has been taught to hate since his youth. He knows now that the government lied to him. He knows that Alazar used him to further his own career and the burden of this knowledge is eating away at him.”

“Do you think he could possibly take his own life?” inquired Lyra. “Could he? Would he?”

“I don’t know,” admitted the old mage. “Malafar has always believed in one path to anything he has done, even when we were children. Once he sees a solution to his current dilemma, he throws all of his effort into it. There is never a second guess on his part; no reasoning once his mind is made up.”

“Should I assign bodyguards for him?” Lyra asked as she chewed absently on her lower lip.

“No,” Temiker answered quickly. “That would send the wrong signal and might give rise to thoughts that do not really exist. I do not know that he is contemplating suicide. I have been wracking my brain to figure out what he will do with this new knowledge. With Rhodella gone, I know him better than anyone alive and I cannot fathom what his reaction is going to be. That is what disturbs me.”

“And with Rhodella gone and his daughter anointed as the leader of a nation where he is not comfortable living, he has little to go back to in his life,” surmised Lyra. “I see where your apprehension is coming from. So how do we protect him from himself or even determine if we need to?”

“He is talking to me again,” offered Temiker, “but he still will not confide in me. I think that may take some time. Perhaps if you spoke with him at length, you could find out what he is thinking better than I.”

“Then I shall do so immediately,” Lyra decided. “Find him and bring him to my office. I think we should deal with this right away. There has been enough bloodshed in this family already and I am not going to lose my father again.”

“I will send him to your office,” suggested Malafar’s brother. “My presence at the meeting would be counterproductive.”

Lyra stared at Temiker for a moment and then nodded sadly. She abruptly spun around and marched off towards the palace. She ran into Jostin as she entered the palace and headed for her office.

“StarWind and HawkShadow are returning,” the freckled youth reported hastily. “They are just coming out of the tunnel.”

“Excellent,” nodded Lyra. “See to their mounts and send them to my office right away. I am anxious to find out how the Mayor of Campanil responded to them.”

The young boy grinned widely and bowed to the Star as he scampered off to greet the spymaster and the assassin. Lyra chuckled inwardly as the lad left. The Sakovans were not a formal people and nobody bothered to bow to the Star except at ritual gatherings. Nobody except Jostin that is. The red-haired boy delighted with any chance to bring news to Lyra so that he could be in the presence of the Star. Lyra smiled and continued on to her office.