“When is the Time of Cleansing?” interrupted the shaman.

“It starts when the evil arrives,” answered Marak. “That is all the scroll stated.”

“So you are to gather the faithful AND the faithless,” mused Ukaro. “The faithless to me are the flatlanders. I feel more strongly than ever that what the others expect of the Torak is not what is required of you. If you were here merely to reclaim our land from the flatlanders, then why did Kaltara send the Star and the Astor?”

“They each have their own lands to reclaim,” Marak offered weakly.

“Perhaps that is how others will interpret it,” shrugged Ukaro, “but I see both of them as being among the faithful. It is the Khadorans, the Omungans, and the Fakarans that are the faithless. It is not referring to the Chula, the Sakovans, and the Qubari. They could never be considered faithless. We have lived for many generations waiting for you to come. We have not wavered in our faith.”

“So I am to make allies with the flatlanders in all three countries?” Marak questioned skeptically.

“It would appear so,” nodded Ukaro.

“Impossible,” Marak shook his head. “The Khadorans will kill me. It is only a matter of time before they do, but I am sure that they will succeed. In any event, there is absolutely no chance that the Khadorans would ever agree to follow me.”

“Come,” Ukaro smiled as he rose. “It is time for you to leave the Chula and return to your flatlanders. Have you found a mate a yet?”

Lord Marak rose and stared at his father with his mouth hanging open.

“A mate?” he echoed. “With everything that is going on, how can you ask such a question?”

“Life continues even through troubled times,” chuckled the shaman. “I wonder what kind of parent you will make.”

“This is no time for me to be distracted by such things, father,” Marak shook his head. “Whatever brings such thoughts to your mind?”