Richard Tuttle - Star of Sakova

“The Katana’s Council voted for Alazar,” Larst finally answered. “He had more support than I did and contesting his election would not have been good for the country. We needed a new Katana quickly to bring order to the city and the government. While I am flattered that you think of me in such a high fashion, you must realize by my past actions, that I support the government without question and that includes the Katana.”

“So you did consider running for the position,” Ferde surmised. “How did you manage to become First Minister?”

The First Minister rose stiffly to his feet and glared at the mayor. “What is going on here?” he demanded. “First you favor me with your view of my patriotism and now you challenge my right to office. What game are you playing?”

Mayor Ferde waved his hand in a dismissive manner and smiled. “I do not question your right to office, my friend,” soothed the mayor. “I am merely curious about what transpired. You must understand that as mayor of one of the largest cities, I am privy to many things in the government, but the workings of the Katana’s Council is not one of them. I do not question your patriotism, as you should know from my earlier statements, but I also do not think that you blindly follow anyone, including Alazar. You are eminently qualified for the position, but I was under the belief that you held different views than Alazar and I am just curious why he selected you as First Minister.”

Larst’s glare softened slowly and he eventually nodded and sat back down. “I did try to become Katana,” admitted Larst. “It was clear that I did not have the votes and neither did Alazar. A long battle would have ensued if I had chosen to fight Alazar for the position. He knew this as well and offered me the position of First Minister to end the contest. The country needed leadership quickly and I accepted. It was more important to me to stabilize the nation than to advance my own agenda. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“Yes,” nodded Ferde. “I am sorry to seem to interrogate you, Larst, but I believed you to be a proud Omungan and not someone else’s dupe. I had to be sure.”

“Sure of what?” barked the First Minister. “You are beginning to sound like a conspirator and if that is where you are heading, I advise you to leave immediately.”

“I probably should do just that,” Ferde agreed, “but I care too much about our nation to ignore what I know. Frankly, I do not know what to do, which is why I came to you. I do not think our country has ever faced such a dilemma.”

“Once again I advise you to leave,” Larst stated adamantly. “I will not sit still for any treasonous talk and I do not wish to have you end your illustrious career in prison.”

Mayor Ferde frowned and rose from his chair. He turned to leave the First Minister’s office and suddenly sat back down in the chair. “There are other matters that I wish to discuss with you, if that is acceptable,” he stated.

Larst sighed and nodded.

“In fact, I have some good news,” smiled Ferde. “The people of Campanil will not starve this winter. We have more than enough watula to get us through until next harvest.”

The First Minister’s eyes widened in surprise. “That is wonderful,” he declared. “Where did it come from?”

“We found it stockpiled at one of the outlying farms,” Mayor Ferde replied without disclosing that he knew how it got there.

“Well make sure you guard it well,” cautioned Larst. “If the Sakovans find out about it, you may find your people hungry this winter yet.”

“I don’t think so,” Ferde frowned. “Our investigation indicated that it was not Sakovans who burned the fields.”

“What do you mean?” puzzled Larst. “I read the reports myself and it clearly showed that it was a Sakovan attack.”

“I had the case reopened,” explained Ferde. “I came across some disturbing information that did not mesh with the original report. When the new investigation was completed, it was clear that the attack was staged by Omungans intent on making it look like a Sakovan raid. I have a copy of the new report with me. You may have it.”

The First Minister took the offered report and read through it while the mayor sat puffing on his pipe, filling the room with a thick bocco scent. The First Minister frowned deeply as he set the report on his desk.

“You are sure of this information?” he quizzed the mayor.

“We are certain,” nodded Ferde. “Some of the blacksmiths even verified their marks on the fake stars.”

“This is vital information,” frowned the First Minister. “I must bring this to the attention of the Katana’s Council right away. We are poised to attack Sakova because of this tragedy and the assassination, of course the assassination is reason enough, but the Council must be informed.”

“I have long wondered about the assassination,” Ferde mused as he grasped the opportunity to manipulate the conversation. “This Malafar owned the Academy of Magic. How is it we think he is Sakovan?”

The First Minister looked up in surprise, his mind still processing the implication of the Campanil attack. “The Academy of Magic was just a front,” he murmured. “He used the school to train Sakovan mages.”

“I heard that accusation,” noted the mayor, “but his father was also a Minister on the Council. Was his father a Sakovan as well?”

“Malafar’s father was a Minister?” echoed Larst. “I didn’t know that.”

“Minister of Agriculture before Calix,” nodded Ferde. “Both Malafar and Temiker were brought up in Okata. I didn’t think a Sakovan could actually penetrate the Katana’s Council. How did we finally find out he was Sakovan?”

First Minister Larst sat toying with a mustache for a long moment. “I am not sure of the evidence,” he admitted. “He has been labeled as a Sakovan for so long that I guess I never thought about it. Not that it matters much because he showed his true colors by assassinating the Katana.”

“With the coming war and the report I just gave you on Campanil,” Ferde persisted, “I think it makes a great deal of difference. If Malafar is not Sakovan, then we are being manipulated into this war. Who was it that accused Malafar of being Sakovan? Perhaps we can ask to see the documentary evidence.”

The First Minster’s face paled as he rose to his feet once more. “Why do I feel as though you already know the answer to that question?” posed Larst. “I told you that I did not want to go there, Ferde. I suggest you leave now.”

“Go where?” Ferde asked innocently. “I haven’t mentioned anything treasonous, have I? I thought we were discussing the possibility that someone was trying to send this country to war based upon false assumptions. Surely such talk is patriotic, not treasonous.”

Larst chewed on his lower lip as he stared at the Campanil Mayor before him. He realized now how Ferde had directed the conversation and, although the words had not been spoken, Larst now faced a dilemma of his own. He either stood by his love of his country or his sworn loyalty to the Katana. Finally, he seemed to make up his mind.

“This conversation never took place,” the First Minister instructed. “If you try to indicate that it did, I will destroy you. Am I clear?”

Ferde frowned and rose while nodding his head in agreement.

“Sit down,” commanded Larst. “Do you have any proof regarding his involvement?”

Ferde was shocked at the realization that he had finally gotten through to the First Minister. “I do,” he assured. “I have a man in custody who worked directly for him. His job was to attack the Academy, secure Malafar, and bring him to the Okata. He was also supposed to track down Temiker and Lyra, Malafar’s daughter. If anyone finds out that I have this man in custody, his life is forfeit.”