Web of Deceit (29 page)

While Chief Dumo’s face burned with rage as he delivered his speech, Yltar’s face was one of profound sadness. Mistake rose so swiftly that the guards lowered their spears to protect the council, but she made no move towards the table.

“You speak ill of the civilization I come from,” said Mistake calmly, “and you are right to do so.”

Dumo’s face registered surprise as Mistake continued, “The problem with Fakara is indeed that is lacks law and order. The country is run by bullies who do kill without reason and take whatever they wish. Would you wish it to be different?”

“No country should exist without law and order,” growled Dumo, “but if you think that by agreeing with me that I will let you go, save your breath. I will not be sweet talked into ignoring our laws.”

“The talk I offer you is not sweet by any means,” continued Mistake. “Fakara is changing right now. You may not be aware of it, but the Jiadin tribe is attempting to unite the tribes under Grulak’s rule. If he succeeds, you had better plan to man your borders once again, for he will not leave you in peace.”

“While that may be so,” retorted Dumo, “my actions have no bearing on that.”

“Oh but they do,” Mistake said. “One of the people you wish to kill here today has made it his life’s work to offer Fakara another solution to their poverty and lawlessness. Rejji has already been in contact with clans in Khadora and arranged to set up a trading port to bring in food and tools to help the Fakaran people rebuild their society. It is a task that will be arduous and difficult, but Bakhai and I have promised to help him. This trip through your land is solely my fault. I insisted that we seek the Sage of the Mountain to learn of my real family before we start the rebuilding effort. When you kill us, you kill the alternative to Grulak’s domination. We can not stop you from killing us. After all, the law is on your side. But before you do, ask yourself one question. Does it benefit the Qubari people more to have Fakarans working in peace to become good neighbors to you, or is it more beneficial to add three young bodies to your graveyard?”

“It is not our desire to kill you to fill our graveyard,” blustered Dumo. “It is to maintain the secrecy of the Qubari Jungle. What you have seen already is enough to aid an attacking army. As the leader of the Qubari, I risk the lives of my people by allowing you to carry word of your discoveries out of the jungle. That is why we have the law and that is why we still exist.”

“Would not our vow of secrecy be sufficient?” asked Mistake. “We have no desire to bring harm to your people.”

“I cannot risk the lives of my people on the vows of strangers,” Dumo shook his head. “Two people have left this jungle in my lifetime. Both ended in disaster for us. I cannot take that chance.”

Anderal rose and asked permission to speak and Dumo nodded and sat down.

“Rejji,” the council member asked, “Mistake has told us of your mission in life and it intrigues me. Having a stable government in Fakara would certainly be most welcome, but I fail to see how simply instituting trade with Khadora would do anything other than create another tempting target for the Jiadin. Can you explain this to me?”

“It will create a tempting target,” agreed Rejji, “but it will also create wealth. The tribes today live off of the surrounding villages. The villages have little to live on and therefore the tribes have little as well. I intend to offer a better life, not only to the villagers, but also to the tribes. I believe that most tribes would gladly give up being bandits if there was a way for them to exist. The wealth we create in Fakara can be used to create more wealth. If we have a market to export the results of our labors, then those labors become worth something. As Fakara exists today, young people from the villages join the tribes because there is no other option. We plan to create that other option.”

“Why won’t the tribes just raid your new wealth?” questioned Anderal.

“Because we won’t let them,” responded Rejji. “I will hire a defense force to prevent attacks and then offer jobs to those I think might try to attack. The one group I know this plan will not work with is the Jiadin. I have not worked out a plan for them yet.”

“In essence, both you and Grulak plan to unite the tribes then?” Anderal asked.

“I guess so,” answered Rejji. “The difference is what the united tribes will do. My tribes will trade with Khadora, and with the Qubari if they wish, the other tribes plan to attack Khadora and probably you as well.”

“Thank you,” nodded Anderal as he took his seat.

“I fail to see where all this talk is heading,” interjected council member Pulom. “While Rejji’s plan is certainly more desirable, it is not the issue here. The issue is our need for secrecy and I think we should limit the discussion to that.”

“I don’t see that any further discussion is necessary,” frowned Dumo. “I think the council should vote.”

“I have one thing I would like to add if I may,” Rejji stated.

Dumo nodded.

“Could an exception to the law be allowed if we could prove that your secrecy would be maintained?” questioned Rejji.

“The council’s decision is the law,” sighed Dumo. “Why waste time on this further? There can be no such proof.”

“I think there can be,” argued Rejji. “I can understand your reluctance to trust our vow of secrecy as we are strangers to you. If you allowed us to leave the jungle, we could run straight to the tribes and tell them everything we have seen. I do see that as a serious threat to your security. I think I can offer you two pieces of information that will allow you to trust us.”

“Very well,” Dumo sighed. “Make your offer.”

“The first piece of information is that my village was totally destroyed by the Jiadin,” declared Rejji. “There is no way I would ever offer them information about anything. What I would offer them is my sword at their throat.”

Rejji could see that his first point had little effect on the council, but he continued, “The second thing I can offer you, to make you believe we will keep our vows, is that we could have already disclosed everything we have seen. We did not do so and will not do so. If we have already refrained form divulging the information, why would we do differently later?”

“How could you have divulged anything?” questioned Dumo. “You have been under guard the entire time you have been here.”

“I am willing to answer that question,” offered Rejji, “only if it will result in our freedom. We too have a need for secrecy. If you trust us, we will trust you.”

The council table was awash with murmurs as the members discussed the case. Rejji could see that there were differences of opinion and he nudged Mistake.

“Use it,” he whispered. “Find out what they are saying and who is willing to trust us.”

Mistake nodded imperceptibly and cast the Air Tunnel. “They appear to be split,” whispered Mistake. “Anderal and Yltar are for letting us go. Dumo and Pulom are not.”

“I think Dumo is a lost cause,” whispered Rejji. “Concentrate on Pulom. When the opportunity presents itself, nudge him.”

Mistake tried to listen to Pulom, but the man kept on harping on the same word, secrecy. The debate seemed to coming to a stalemate and Mistake did not know what that would mean to their future, so she decided to risk nudging him.

She reversed the flow and said, “Secrecy is not the issue. Safety is.”

Rejji fought to suppress his chuckle as the old man whirled around looking for the source of the voice. Pulom glanced over at Mistake and she politely smiled back at him. Mistake started listening again as the conversation resumed. Pulom reverted to his position that secrecy was most important. Mistake again reversed flow and sent the same message. This time Pulom quickly turned and stared at Mistake. Mistake smiled back, but Pulom’s face turned red as he stared at her.

“Secrecy and safety are one in the same,” he shouted, “and how are you doing that?”

The entire council stopped talking and turned to stare at Mistake. Rejji stood.

“They are not quite the same,” Rejji declared. “Mistake has just shown you that she can violate your secrecy, but she has not endangered your safety. The words you thought were being spoken in privacy were heard over here. They could just as easily have been heard in Khadora. In fact, everything we have seen and heard since entering the jungle could have been shared with Khadora. None of it has been shared. I do not know how to impress upon you that we are not a threat to your safety or your secrecy. We have already had the opportunity to tell the world about the Qubari Jungle and all of its strangeness. Ask yourselves why we have not and you will understand why we will not.”

“You can converse with Khadora?” Yltar asked.

Mistake nodded.

“Will you show me how to do it?” he questioned.

“Only if I get permission from the one who taught me,” Mistake declared.

“And why is that?” Yltar asked. “We have the power to set you free and you will not show your secrets to gain that freedom?”

“I have given my word not to teach it to others without her approval,” stated Mistake. “I will ask her if you wish.”

“I may request that in the future,” Yltar grinned, “but for the present, I think you have just shown that you value your word highly. I ask my fellow council members to consider this in our deliberations, which will remain private this time.”

Mistake smiled and nodded and let the Air Tunnel dissipate. The council members returned to their discussion and finally fell silent.

“Bakhai,” Dumo asked, “if we allow your friends to go free, will you stay with us?”

“I would like very much to spend some time in the land of parents,” Bakhai declared, “but I have given my word to see this task completed. I am willing to return here after we find the Sage of the Mountain, if that is desired and allowed.”

Rejji and Mistake turned and stared at Bakhai with amazement on their faces, but Dumo merely nodded.

“Very well then,” Dumo said. “It is the ruling of this council that we shall accept your vows of secrecy and allow you to continue your journey. I want to impress upon the three of you that there are many lives at stake here. It is a heavy burden we place upon you, but we expect you to bear it. This is the ruling of the council.”

Pulom and Anderal drifted away from the table, but Dumo and Yltar approached the Fakarans.

“Bakhai,” ordered Dumo, “I would like to visit with you privately. Follow me.”

“My friends should come too,” objected Bakhai.

“No,” smiled Yltar. “That will not be necessary. They are coming with me so that I can explain to them how to find the Sage of the Mountain. You go with the Chief.”

Bakhai nodded when he saw the glee on Mistake’s face and he followed Dumo out of the courtyard. Dumo led him to a small sitting room with cushions on the floor.

“Sit, please,” Dumo said in a soft voice. “You are enough to send an old man to his grave. You have his stubborn streak for sure.”

“My father?” asked Bakhai. “You knew him?”

“I knew him well,” smiled Dumo. “We never saw eye-to-eye on things, but he was a good man. You are very much like him.”

“Tell me about him,” asked Bakhai, “please.”

“I would like that,” nodded Dumo. “He was a very special Qubari. He was perhaps the most brilliant talker that ever lived. Finding a talker here is not too difficult. We know the families that produce them and many times the children show signs of it, but their abilities are not realized until they undergo a ceremony designed to awaken the talent. Your father was an exception. He could barely speak when he started communicating with the animals. Never have we seen one so young with so much ability. He should have become shaman.”

“Why didn’t he?” Bakhai queried.

“He had many strange notions about things,” replied Dumo. “Qubari have always remained hidden in the jungle. It is our gift and our duty to protect it. He saw his duty extend beyond the edges of the jungle. When he was a young man, he left the jungle and ventured out into the world.”

“Why?” questioned Bakhai. “What made him turn his back on the Qubari?”

“He didn’t see it as turning his back on us,” the Chief responded. “A generation before your father, a young woman ran away from the jungle. Some say she was crazy, others that she just wanted more than what was here. Whatever her reason, she left and married an invader. They had a son and he was named Grulak.”

“The Grulak that leads the Jiadin?” gasped Bakhai.

“The same,” continued Dumo. “When the son was older, but not yet a man, this woman returned to us. She told us that she was afraid for the Qubari because of her son. She said something had invaded her son, something evil. The boy enjoyed killing things. It was animals at first and then people. He spoke in strange tongues and drew strange symbols on the wall with the blood of those he had killed. What prompted her return was her son had murdered her husband.”

“Grulak killed his own father?” Bakhai asked.

“Yes,” nodded Dumo. “This woman feared for her life and her people. She wanted to live out the rest of her days in the jungle. I would not let her. I told her to return to her son and keep watch over him. If he became a threat to our people, she was to kill him. If she could not, then she was to return here to warn us.”

“Did she ever return?”

“She returned just recently,” frowned Dumo. “She warned us that the Jiadin would attack us soon. Then she died.”

“What does this have to do with my father?” asked Bakhai.

“Your father was a student of the prophecies of the ancients,” explained Dumo. “He took the birth of Grulak as a sign and decided that the Qubari’s best defense was in creating a climate in Fakara that would hinder the massing of the tribes. He left the jungle to improve Fakara.”

“Did he ever return?” questioned Bakhai.

“Only once,” Dumo said with sadness in his face. “He returned with his Fakaran wife just before you were born.” Tears welled up in Dumo’s eyes and he quickly wiped them away. “I told him to stay with us, but he refused,” Dumo continued, his voice breaking. “We had an argument and I told him that if he left, he could never return. He was stubborn as you are now. He would not back down from an argument and neither would I. He left and I never saw him again.”