Island of Darkness Read Free Page B

because you are the most qualified person in the country. That is something to be very pleased about.”
    “I only seek to do the best that I can for Omunga,” Larst replied with a touch of embarrassment. “If I am chosen, I will devote my life to making Omunga a better place to live.”
    “I have no doubt that you will succeed as Katana as you have succeeded in everything else you have done,” Karnic smiled politely. “I understand that the Katana is surrounded with special magical shields to protect him from assassins. When does that actually take place? And will I be permitted to record your comments during the process?”
    “You are assuming a great deal,” countered Larst. “I have not been chosen yet.”
    “Assuming that you are,” conceded Karnic.
    “The use of magical shields to guard the Katana is well known,” replied Larst, “but the actual composition of the shields is a very closely guarded secret. I doubt that the Monitors will allow you to observe the procedure.”
    “Well, a doubt can be overcome,” Karnic responded with optimism. “When does it occur? Is it right after the selection process?”
    “Oh yes,” nodded Larst. “It is the first thing done to a new Katana. The Monitors take their task of protecting the Katana very seriously. The shields will be applied within minutes of the selection.”
    “And that is likely to occur tomorrow morning?” mused Karnic. “Even if it is not you, it will be tomorrow that the decision is made. Isn’t that right?”
    “That is the purpose of tomorrow’s meeting,” Larst nodded as his mind began to drift towards the meeting that would occur in the morning.
    The room was silent for several moments as Larst thought about the upcoming meeting and the possibility of being chosen as the next Katana. Karnic walked over to the wall covered with bookshelves. He perused the numerous volumes that had been collected by First Ministers over the ages. He stopped and gazed at a particularly old volume. Its title suggested that it dealt with the genealogies of the early Omungans.
    “Have you read all of these books?” Karnic asked, breaking the silence of the room.
    “No,” the First Minister shook his head. “I have little time these days for reading. Why do you ask?”
    “There are some valuable books in your collection,” responded Karnic. “A few of these are ancient.”
    “They are the collection of the First Minister,” shrugged Larst. “I presume that they have been collected over the generations by every First Minister since the founding of Omunga. Their value is of no import. They will never be sold. They will remain here for the next First Minister.”
    “As it should be,” nodded Karnic. “Still, they must be very interesting to read, like this old tome about the origins of the Sakovans.”
    “The origin of the Sakovans?” echoed Larst. “I don’t remember seeing that one. It would be interesting to read. There is so little that we truly know about our neighbors.”
    “It doesn’t look like it has ever been read,” Karnic commented as the First Minister started towards the bookshelves. “It must be as old as Omunga.”
    “Then it would be a treasure indeed,” Larst said excitedly as he moved in front of Karnic and bent down to search the shelf. “Which one is it?”
    Karnic’s hands shot out and grasped both shoulders of the First Minister. Excruciating pain shot through Larst as he gasped for breath.
    “What are you doing?” he croaked weakly. “You are hurting me.”
    “Not for long,” Karnic said softly with a smirk on his face. “I cannot allow you to receive those shields tomorrow. They would make it impossible for me to assume your body. Thank you for telling me the story of your life, Larst. No one will ever doubt that I am really you.”
    The First Minister’s body stiffened, and Karnic’s body disappeared in a puff of smoke. Karnic’s clothes floated to the floor and landed in a heap. The new Larst grabbed