Richard Tuttle - Aakuta - the Dark Mage

“Hira was a good squad leader,” Lord Marak said sadly. “He will be missed. What do we know about the attackers?”

“They were dressed as gray warriors,” replied the Lord Marshal, “but Netura believes that it was a disguise. The attack was efficiently executed, and the enemy took pains to ensure that not a single one of their men was exposed to danger.”

“So it is a clan that wishes to hide these attacks from even their own people?” questioned Lord Marak. “Why?”

“That is what Fisher and I have been discussing,” answered Yenga. “The only plausible reason that we can think of is the troops that are doing the ambushing are not from the local estate.”

“You are saying that a large clan is attacking us,” Lord Marak asked, “but they are using troops from a different estate? Why would they do that if they have an estate close to the ambush site?”

“Loyalty,” answered the Lord Marshal. “Typically, the troops under the direct control of a lord marshal can be counted on to remain quiet about their missions. The local troops might gossip too much, and the ambushes would become known to others.”

“So a lord sends troops to an outlying estate with special orders from the lord marshal of the clan,” interjected Fisher. “The local estate will house them and feed them, but will not interfere in any other way. The local marshal would not even be informed of what their mission is.”

“That does not help a great deal,” frowned Lord Marak. “There are many clans in Khadora that have multiple estates.”

“We can narrow it down,” declared Fisher as he rose and walked to a wall map of Khadora. “We now know the location of the attacks. The ambushers were foolish to allow one of your men to escape.”

“Where was the attack?” asked Marak as he walked to the map.

“At the foot of the Three Sisters Mountains,” Fisher said as he pointed to a spot on the map. “The road is fairly well traveled, but the ambush was timed well. Netura was away from the squad at the time. He was selecting a camping spot for the night. Few travel the road at night, and journeys are normally planned in the mornings, or at least scheduled so that they can be completed by nightfall. Only Imperial troops would travel the road at night. The road was deserted.”

“So they knew the caravan was coming,” nodded Lord Marak. “I suspect they had scouts checking its progress during the day.”

“They may have,” interrupted Lord Marshal Yenga, “but these troops would not be sitting idle at the local estate waiting for your caravans. They would have to know approximately what day the caravan would be passing through the area.”

“But how could they possibly know that?” questioned the lord of the Torak clan. “We do not run our caravans on a schedule. We do not know the day of our departure ourselves until we decide it is leaving.”

“It is possible that they have scouts several days out from the ambush site,” shrugged Yenga.

“More likely,” stated Fisher, “they have someone telling them when a caravan leaves Fardale. That is certainly how I would do it. It would be a simple matter then to know the day that the caravan would pass any particular spot on the route.”

“You understand what you are implying?” inquired Lord Marak.

“That you have a spy in your ranks,” nodded Fisher. “I know that you do not wish to hear such theories, Marak, but that is the most likely of scenarios.”

“Have any other caravans been ambushed besides our Torak caravans?” questioned Lord Marak.

“None,” Fisher shook his head. “A Sorgan caravan passed the ambush site the day before yours. I should also point out that the caravan was not stolen. They destroyed it. Intentionally. This was not done for someone’s profit as much as it was done to harm you.”

“Destroyed?” echoed Lord Marak.

“Yes,” replied Lord Marshal Yenga. “I suspect the attack site was well cleaned up before morning, too. Your caravans are supposed to simply disappear.”

“What clans have estates in the area?” Marak asked with rage almost detectable in his voice.

“Fisher and I have been going over that,” answered Yenga. “There are at least a dozen possibilities. And that is only counting the estates that are close to the ambush site. We really need to include any estate that could effectively move their troops to the attack area without being seen on a road. That adds another dozen clans.”

“Too many choices,” Lord Marak said as he began to pace the floor. “We must narrow it down some more. Fisher, can you snoop around and see if any estates are regularly hosting troops of their clan from another estate?”

“It is already on my list,” nodded the spy. “Such information will not be easy to come by, and it may take me some time. What of your next caravan? You cannot halt shipments until I report back.”

“We could send the watula in a caravan under another clan’s colors,” suggested Lord Marshal Yenga. “You have other clans that owe allegiance to you.”

Lord Marak was silent for some time as he stopped pacing and stood staring at the map. Finally, he sat down in his chair and waved for the others to sit down.

“How large an escort did Lord Sevrin bring with him to the meeting?” asked Lord Marak.

“Just a squad of Ragatha soldiers,” answered the lord marshal.

“And how large does Netura estimate the ambushers to be?” inquired the lord.

“He suspected at least two squads,” replied Yenga, “probably a corte.”

“That is what I would expect to make the ambush easy,” nodded Lord Marak. “When Lord Sevrin leaves Fardale, I want him to leave with two cortes of Ragatha troops in addition to his squad. We should have spare Ragatha uniforms at Woodville. It used to be a Ragatha estate.”

“The uniforms will be no problem,” nodded Yenga. “What do you want me to order the two cortes to do?”

“I am not sure yet,” admitted Lord Marak, “but if you are correct about a spy in our midst, then I want some troops smuggled out of Fardale. This meeting of the lords is the perfect time to do it. Also, make sure that we have a mage who is capable of using an air tunnel among the soldiers.”

“Make sure that Lord Sevrin is the last lord to leave,” suggested Fisher. “We do not want the other lords to notice his escort.”

“You suspect one of my lords is the spy?” asked Lord Marak as his eyes narrowed.

“The average clan member does not have the consistent capability of getting word out to the attackers,” shrugged Fisher. “If there is a spy, it is from someone high up in the clans that owe their allegiance to you.”

“Make it so,” Lord Marak said to Lord Marshal Yenga. “Fisher, find yourself a Torak uniform quickly. I want you to be one of the guards in the meeting room today. Observe everyone, and we will meet again afterwards.”

“I have a uniform with me,” grinned Fisher as Lord Marak gave him a puzzled look. “There is one other thing that you should be aware of. Lord Marak and the Torak clan are the talk of Khadoratung. Everyone is trying to figure out how you came into power here in Fardale, obtained Woodville from the Ragatha clan, and two other estates from the Situ clan. As you are aware, people in the capital do not normally think of clans this far away as anything worth talking about, so it should cause you some concern that you are the topic of their conversations.”

“That is troubling,” agreed Lord Marak. “All of my clans together are nothing compared to the rest of Khadora. Why do you suppose they have taken notice of dealings out here on the frontier?”

“Primarily your abolition of slavery,” shrugged Fisher, “but I feel that there is more to it than that. I think some important people have taken notice of you, and that is not healthy in Khadora. Power has always resided in Khadoratung. The Emperor and the Lords’ Council rule this country. The Assembly of Lords really has no power at all. I would advise you to avoid the assembly meeting later this month.”