Someone alerted Marshal Chack, and he arrived with three hundred armed Imperial soldiers. They methodically cleared the room by starting at one end and working their way to the other. They subdued anyone who resisted the call to stop fighting, and evicted the others from the room. When the fighting was over, sixteen soldiers of various clans had died. Another four hundred required the services of healers.
Marshal Chack ordered all clan soldiers to return to their quarters and remain there until further notice. He ordered Imperial soldiers to enforce the ban on the movement of any clan soldiers and then reported to Emperor Mirakotto.
“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” the marshal reported. “I have restricted all escorts to their quarters. My men are patrolling all of the residence corridors with orders to stop any clan soldier from leaving their quarters.”
“They still have to eat,” pondered the Emperor. “I do not want a repeat of such behavior. I am ordering all clan soldiers out of the palace. Let them camp in the outside area with the rest of the escorts.”
“The lords are not going to like that,” countered Marshal Chack. “They will feel unprotected without at least some of the soldiers nearby.”
“I do not care what they think,” snapped Emperor Mirakotto. “They have Imperial troops to protect them. Besides, no lord will be disadvantaged. Their enemies’ troops will also be outside the palace. Carry out my orders, Marshal.”
Marshal Chack bowed to the Emperor and left the room. He gathered every spare Imperial soldier that he could find and addressed them in the entrance foyer.
“You will start with the left residential corridor,” he said to his troops. “We will empty the palace one suite at a time. Let them take their weapons, and escort them to an exit. Then you come back and do the same for the next clan. As you free up Imperial soldiers from the left residential corridor, I will send them to the right residential corridor. Move out.”
The Imperial guards began to empty the palace of clan soldiers. Marshal Chack was kept busy as he was called to address the concerns of each lord as the complaints were made. It took over ten hours to empty the palace. Marshal Chack and the Imperial troops were exhausted.
* * *
Lord Marak rose early. He got dressed and left the empty Torak quarters. He hesitated a moment outside the door as he debated whether he wanted to eat in the lords dining room or the one set aside for the Lords’ Council. It was early enough that neither kitchen might be open. He decided on the Lords’ Council kitchen, as they were more apt to be up early to serve the most important lords in Khadora. He climbed the stairs and found the dining room empty. He passed through the room and into the small kitchen. One man was busy making pastries. The man bowed his head slightly, but did not talk or stop his work. Lord Marak took two pastries from the tray and left the kitchen.
Lord Marak ate the pastries as he passed through the dining room and started down the stairs. His mind was distant as he walked. He kept replaying the previous day’s meeting of the Lords’ Council. He wondered if he could have played it any differently, and how he could recover from the loss. As he reached the main floor and stepped off the stairs, he did not notice the shadowy figure on the stairs leading down to the soldiers’ dining room. He did see an Imperial soldier walking towards him as he turned down the left residence corridor to return to his quarters.
Lord Marak had not gone more than twenty paces along the residence corridor when he heard a noise behind him. He spun around and saw two figures. A dark clad man was hidden behind the Imperial guard. The Imperial soldier had both hands up to his throat, and his face was a bright red, veins bulging as if they were about to burst. On the floor in front of the Imperial soldier was a knife that had been dropped. Lord Marak frowned when he saw the telltale brown stain of poison upon its blade. He also noticed the Imperial soldier wore gloves on his hands.
The Imperial soldier was struggling to free something around his neck as the shadow behind him exerted more pressure. Lord Marak acted swiftly. He brought his right arm up in a swinging motion, and his fist connected with the Imperial guard’s face. The soldier went limp, and Lord Marak recognized the shadow who had been behind the Imperial soldier.
“I want him alive, Fisher,” Lord Marak said softly. “Let’s get him into the Torak quarters.”
Lord Marak bent and picked up the knife. Fisher draped the soldier over his shoulder and followed Lord Marak to the Torak quarters. Lord Marak unlocked the door and held it open while Fisher entered and deposited the unconscious man in one of the soldier’s bunks. Lord Marak closed the door and joined Fisher in the barracks room.
“What are you doing in the palace?” asked Lord Marak. “They will arrest you if they find you. All clan personal have been ordered out of the Imperial Palace.”
“I know,” frowned Fisher as he removed the wire from the soldier’s throat. He bound the man’s hands and legs before saying, “Isn’t it convenient that all of the escorts are out of the palace while this assassin runs free?”
“Do you think this is the man who killed Bagora?” asked Lord Marak.
“Without a doubt,” nodded Fisher.
Suddenly there was a loud pounding on the door. Lord Marak reached into his pouch and found a Torak staff pin as the pounding continued.
“Put this on,” ordered Lord Marak. “We can say that you were sent to tell me something.”
Lord Marak ran to the door and opened it slightly. Marshal Chack pushed the door open and barged in.
“What is going on here, Lord Marak?” demanded the marshal. “I saw you and your man carrying an Imperial guard into this room from the other end of the corridor. I demand an explanation.”
Lord Marak sighed and pointed to the barracks room. “Come in,” Lord Marak said as he closed the door and led the marshal into the barracks room. “I was just going to try and find you. We have captured the assassin.”
Marshal Chack’s eyes narrow skeptically as he gazed at Fisher and then the Imperial soldier. “Who are you?” he demanded of Fisher.
“I am a friend, Marshal,” Fisher replied. “This soldier is your assassin. Show him the knife, Lord Marak.”
Marshal Chack looked briefly at the knife, but his attention immediately returned to Fisher. “I asked who you were,” reminded the marshal. “Don’t expect me to believe the staff pin that you are wearing. I personally escorted everyone out of the residence sections myself last night, and nobody has been allowed into the palace since then without my express approval. Who are you?”
“I am a spy,” answered Fisher. “Why is your interest on me instead of this assassin?”
“Because I know that soldier,” stated Marshal Chack. “Andretti has been a member of the Imperial Palace for a number of years. Did you know this man was a spy, Lord Marak?”
“I have known him for some time,” admitted Lord Marak. “He is a spy, but he is not your enemy, Marshal Chack. He just saved my life. That knife was aimed at my back.”
The soldier started to wake up. He groaned and opened his eyes to see Marshal Chack in the room.
“What is this?” he said indignantly. “Why am I tied up?”
“What proof do you have of your accusation, Lord Marak?” asked the marshal.
“Our words should be enough,” declared Lord Marak. “If you need more, you can find out the whereabouts of Andretti when Emperor Bagora was assassinated. Check to see where he was when Lord Woton was killed, or when I was attacked in the marketplace.”
“Or search his quarters,” suggested Fisher. “He must keep that poison somewhere.”
“What is going on?” demanded the soldier. “What tale are they stringing, Marshal Chack? I was just walking the corridor when I was attacked from behind.”
The marshal turned and walked to the door to the corridor. He opened the door and blew a whistle. Three Imperial soldiers came running. He gave instructions to each and then returned to the barracks room.
“We will have answers to those questions
shortly,” declared the marshal. “What reason would this man have to kill anyone?”
“What reasons do any assassins need?” posed Fisher. “Perhaps we should ask him. I know several methods of persuasive questioning. I am sure that he will tell us everything.”
“I will have none of that on my watch,” the marshal shook his head. “I will have men transport him to a cell until the Emperor rules on this.”
“No,” Fisher stated. “He will not be moved from this room until we have the answers we need.”
“Who are you to make demands?” snapped the marshal. “The Imperial Palace is my domain. You will not give orders here. In fact, you will be arrested. I still do not know who you are.”
“My name is Fisher,” the spy stated.
Suddenly, Andretti gasped. Everyone turned to look at him and the man was trembling. “Take me to the Emperor,” he demanded. “I will tell everything only to the Emperor.”
“Marshal,” Fisher said, “these quarters are the Torak quarters. As such, Lord Marak controls what goes on in here. You may stop us from leaving these quarters with this assassin, but he is staying here until we have a confession out of him.”
“That is impossible,” argued Marshal Chack. “The entire Imperial Palace in under my domain. The Emperor will back me up on that.”
“Do you know what clan this man belongs to, Marshal?” asked Fisher.
“No,” responded the marshal. “When someone joins the Imperial Palace, their association with their clan is over. As it is with the Emperor, so it is with the lowest of Imperial workers. His clan does not matter.”
“I advise you to rethink your position,” declared Fisher. “This man is Andretti Argetta. Small wonder that he demands to be taken to the Emperor. Mirakotto Argetta is this man’s only hope of living.”
“They have no right to keep me tied up,” shouted Andretti. “I demand that you take me to the Emperor.”
There was a knock on the door and the marshal moved quickly to answer it. He returned with a heavy crease across his brow.
“He was one of the two guards on duty at the Emperor’s suite the night Bagora was killed,” Marshal Chack stated. “He left his post right after the Emperor said he was going to bed. We also found this hidden in his quarters.”
The marshal held up a jar of brown liquid. He put the jar on a table and glared at Andretti.
“You will tell me all that you know,” Marshal Chack declared. “You will tell me now, or I will leave you here with Fisher.”
“You can’t do that,” trembled Andretti. “The Emperor will have your head.”
“And why is that?” asked the marshal.
“Because he works for Mirakotto,” answered Lord Marak. “It all makes sense now. The first attack was to kill Bagora and have me blamed for it. The only problem is this incompetent fool killed Lord Woton instead. That must have really riled Mirakotto. Woton was one his boys.”
“Are you suggesting that Emperor Mirakotto knows what this fool has been doing?” questioned the marshal.
“Isn’t it obvious?” retorted Fisher.
“How is it that you know each other?” asked the marshal.
“Andretti is an old acquaintance. He is the man who killed my family,” Fisher said with hatred in his voice. “I vowed to kill him and the lord that ordered the deaths.”
“Are you threatening the Emperor?” asked Marshal Chack.
“Are you protecting the man who ordered the death of Emperor Bagora, Marshal?” countered Fisher.
“Marshal,” pleaded Andretti, “I will tell you everything, but you must promise to get me out of here.”
“Tell me,” demanded the marshal.
“Get me out first,” countered Andretti.
“I am a man of my word,” scowled Marshal Chack. “Confess now if you ever want to leave this room.”
“Alright,” nodded Andretti as he began sweating. “I did kill Bagora. Mirakotto ordered it. All I did was follow orders. Nothing more.”
“And Woton?” questioned the marshal.
“Marak is right,” answered Andretti. “Bagora was meant to die and the blame put on Marak. I stole the star from his room while they ate. Mirakotto was furious with me for killing Lord Woton.”
“And what about the attempts on Lord Marak,” inquired the marshal.
“This was the third,” confessed Andretti. “The first was in the marketplace. I was sure that I had knifed him that day. I do not understand how he survived. I also tried again right after he bought that house. He started walking to the palace with only two guards, but by the time he came near my hiding place, nearly a whole squad had come out of nowhere and surrounded him.”
“How did you get into Bagora’s room?” asked the marshal.
“I had put a rope from his balcony during the day,” answered Andretti. “I also used a wire so I could unlock the doors to the balcony. I just waited downstairs until he was asleep and then climbed up. It was easy.”
Marshal Chack breathed deeply as rage raced through him. He wanted to step forward and strangle Andretti, but he had given his word. Now he wondered what he was to do with the assassin. Mirakotto would not allow him to be killed. Worse, if Mirakotto learned that Andretti had confessed, Chack’s life would be in danger. It would be much easier to get a new marshal than to trust the one he already had. The marshal walked into the main room of the Torak quarters as he pondered what to do.
Suddenly, he heard a scream from the barracks room. He raced in to see the poisoned knife protruding from Andretti’s neck. Fisher rose and wiped the blood off his hands. The marshal stared questioningly at Fisher.
“You had given your word to take him out of here,” shrugged Fisher. “This fool has already destroyed my life and Bagora’s. He has tried to kill Lord Marak. I could not let him destroy yours, too. Mirakotto would surely have you killed if you arrested Andretti. He cannot afford for anyone to know he had Bagora killed.”
“And what am I supposed to do now?” sighed Chack as he sat on a bunk. “You have just murdered a man in my presence. You admit to being a spy, you have vowed to kill the Emperor, and I now know that I work for a murdering emperor. What am I to do? My life is over no matter what I do.”
“Your life is not over,” declared Lord Marak as he placed a comforting hand on the marshal’s shoulder. “You have done nothing wrong. In fact, all of your actions have been exemplary. Your men have already found the poison in Andretti’s quarters. There is no way to hide the identity of the assassin at this point, but there is no reason for Mirakotto to know that he confessed anything to you. Simply tell him the truth, but only the bare minimum.”
“The bare minimum?” echoed Marshal Chack.
“Yes,” nodded Lord Marak. “Tell him that Andretti tried to assassinate me and failed. State that you had Andretti’s dead body carried out of the Torak quarters. Mirakotto may wonder if Andretti talked before he died, but he will suspect that only I might have the knowledge that we share. My quarters are, after all, supposed to be empty of everyone but myself.”
“I see two problems with your plan, Lord Marak,” sighed the marshal. “Mirakotto will seek your death to make sure that nobody learns what you might know, and I still have in my presence a spy who has threatened to kill the Emperor. I cannot just ignore that.”
“Mirakotto already wants me dead,” Lord Marak pointed out. “Andretti told us as much. As for Fisher, I suggest he leave this palace immediately. You should forbid him reentry. If he cannot get back into the palace, you do not have to fear the threat of Mirakotto’s assassination.”
“I really have nothing to arrest Fisher for other than his threat,” conceded Chack. “His execution of Andretti merely saved my men the effort. Once Andretti had confessed, his life was already forfeit. The problem with Fisher is that I am torn. Part of me wants him to flee, but part of me wishes him success in killing the Emperor. How can I remain as marshal when I feel like this? My life is supposed to be dedicated to protecting the Empero
r.”
“Marshal,” Fisher said as he stood, “you are good at what you do. Continue to do it. You serve Khadora, not any one man. I have vowed to kill Mirakotto for what he did to my family, but that vow was made years ago. I have no need to take your skills away from Khadora to satisfy my own selfish desires. I will leave the palace immediately and not look back. I will never return here unless I am asked to. Does that make your decision any easier?”
“It does, Fisher,” nodded the marshal. “I think I can understand what you have gone through. I appreciate you giving up your lifelong quest to spare me, but I still have to live serving under a man who is a murderer. I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Your job does not require you to agree with the Emperor,” Lord Marak said. “All Khadora can ask of any man is to do his best. You have been doing that and will continue to do so. I see no conflict. Let me walk Fisher out of the palace while you get some men to remove the body.”
Marshal Chack nodded distractedly as Lord Marak walked Fisher out of the room. He marched him out of the Imperial Palace. They walked to the park and sat on a bench.
“What will you do now?” Lord Marak asked Fisher.
“What do you mean?” retorted Fisher. “I will do what I always do.”
“I mean about your vow,” said Lord Marak.
“So did I,” grinned Fisher. “I promised that I would not return to the palace until I was asked to. So I need to get an invitation. I do not think that will be too difficult.”
“You cannot kill the Emperor,” sighed Lord Marak. “Fisher, you have too much good to offer Khadora to throw it all away on the likes of Mirakotto.”
“You speak words of wisdom as you always do,” conceded Fisher. “Are you sure you don’t want to be a shaman?”
“I have enough titles at the moment,” chuckled Lord Marak. “Will you come with me to the Balomar estate?”
Aakuta: the Dark Mage fl-4 Page 35
