SHAMBALLAH MISSION: 3rd Report
WALLACE / DAWALASAT speaking, translated and trsanscribed by Art-- Dag an' Dak an' me finally reached the real Himalayas after spendin’ a 4-5 days a-trekkin’ thru the foothills. There were no more trails now, nor roads nor towns; we’s meets no Chinese soldiers nor trekkers nor even sherpas. Sometimes we called out that greetin’s-howl all Nokhons use, but we never even met no Yetis. Now it was mountain climbing up the sheerest ice faces, snow everywhere, air so thin even my Nokhon pals were gaspin’ an coughin’ an so cold that we had to keep movin’ on over the top to the other side an’ get us lower down as fast’s we could. We'd die ‘temptin to sleep up there, just like any other kinda human. We had no tent, couldn't make a fire to be seen from three mountains away since we didn't want anyone to know 'bout us-- asides which we had nothin’ to burn. So we had to go all the way down into the valleys, where it was warmer afore we could rest an' sleep. But next morn we hadda crawl up the next mountain all over 'gain. Even for Nokhons this was hard work and took a lot of time. Dak insisted that he knew the way, but I'd taken some NokhSo maps along for just-in-case. But Shamballah warn’t shown on none o those maps, which he couldn'a read anyway. I had a compass and tried to figure out just where we was 'ccordin to the maps. Mostly it looked like we was just plain lost. But "We're supposed to be lost," Dak had 'xplained afore we even started, "Shamballah remains a hidden city only because it is surrounded by spells of deception. It's the accumulated magic of many Sha-hakas that keep it from becoming found, or stumbled upon, or even seen from above by NokhSo skesk-mini-moons (telecommunication satellites)." "So are ya gonna tell us ya cannot find it?" I finally asked, maybe a wee mite exasperated after a-trudgin ‘round in consarned freezin’ snow up to my ears for a week. "Not at all," Dak sez, no 'pology in his chief-o'-police voice, "I'm following the spells that steer us away, they overlap and eventually give us so many wrong directions that which-ever way they haven't steered us will be the correct one." "Khask, this could take a while," Dag grumbled an' sighed, "at least we have food." Not that we had a lot, mostly a big bag a Elaine's dry crusli-cereal. Nuts & raisins, way better'n nothin. We also had a Full Moon. It was kinda twilight an' we was up on a snowcapped crest when the clouds parted and we was s'prised to see Ma-ket 'bove us. We'd sorta forgot all 'bout it. Tain't the same without females and their sweet shyøma, so there warn't no point in holding a grubby little kha-rat for three worn-out males. Asides, it was too cold to stop moving. But a Full Moon let us know that we'd been on route for most of a month: we'd left Adam and friends just three days after the last one. Felt like some slow goin', after we’d come to the Himalayas so quick, flyin' and all. Kinda discouragin’, I'd say: had me feelin' almost too old for this sorta adventure. But more 'mportant, then we all reckoned how a Full Moon meant that there was kha-rat goin' on in Shamballah right now. Besides all the ruttin' it's when Nokhons hold ceremonies to call forth group telepathic trances. Not that I was any special whiz at doing telepathic stuff, but Dagrolyt was a champ. "If we can contact someone there they'd lead us to them," I says. Dak said, "Not good: Da-starda-hat could learn that we are coming and ready his Alutna to take us prisoner." "But if we listen in without making contact," Dag figured, "we might at least sense which direction to go from here." So we gives it a try. Found a wall of snow that gives us some leeway fra the wind and sits on our backpacks. It warn't ideal, just nasty bitter cold, but we each had some khos in our Sha-haka pouches and the moon was right there above us. I spoke the ceremony, Dak echoed my words, and Dag acted as medium. It was best to be Dag because both Dak an' me had known Dastardet too well back when we was all younger. Way too well for him not to recognize the tingle of our psyches. Dagrolyt went deep into the trance, but come out 'most right 'way. He says, "I hear them, the psychic voices of Shamballah." He looks 'round, then points to a nearby mountain on the horizon, neither the highest nor the fathest, and says, "Shamballa is right over there." Dak studies that mountain for a while, bobs his head, "Ra, I recognize it now, that IS it." We had to go down to get there. That took a day. We had to cross a river delta, that took another day, but at least t'was warm. We all had that funny feelin while goin', like we was so sure t'wuz the wrong way, but that's xactly how those hiding spells work, an' we all agreed that feelin’ wrong made it right. Daklakht had been there afore: "If we continue around this mountain we'll come to a tunnel that leads inside, but it will be guarded. We're going to have to climb and come in from the crater up on top." "It's not guarded there?" Dag asked him. "Maybe, but the crater is large and too cold at the top to station permanent guards. I know a way." So we go climbin’ again, most of another day. Which felt wronger and wronger the higher we come. We even got skeered a-bein so high up, but that was just more proof that this was right. It was sunset when we come up onto the rim of what 'peared to be a big meteor crater, so that we could look down inside it. It was jus' a big black hole. Warn't nothin down there we could see, jus' dark. Factually, we really couldn' SEE what we was lookin' at; like our eyes jus' kinda slipped over and past the hole, couldn’a focus on nothin’ in the middle. Same way Nokhons avoid white man hunters by pertendin’ they ain't there. But the worse spell was the one that made the mountaintop also FEEL slippery; like we was gonna fall off, and it was a long ways down, both outside an' inside the crater. A heavy sense of sheerest terror. But we followed Dak anyway, warn't nothin else ta do. We was hangin’ hard to every foothold, movin’ slow all o' us. We couldn’a see no guards, so they couldn’a see us, we reckons. So we crawls over the crest and starts climbing down into the crater, ignorin’ our fears, and that warn't easy. Lookin back on it, I guess we really wuz heroes. 'Specially if'n we'd thought much 'bout who we wuz gonna have to confront when we got to the bottom.
Maybe I should tell what I know about Da-starda-hat. I'd been living with Mazaza and among the Nokhontli for over ten years before being invited to Aket. That would be about 1934 in USA time, I reckon. By then I'd become more Nokhon than American, only going back and forth to buy supplies maybe once every 3-4 months. I had lots of Nokhon friends --or rather my customers became my friends, because I saw them regularly and they were always glad to see what I had for them. There was also the element of being "partners in crime" on the lookout for troublesome Alutna, so we'd share some khos or mushrooms once in a while, then tell stories, so we even knew each other's secrets. It became my social life. New customers were always impressed by my command of Nokhontli--no one had ever heard of any white man speaking their language before, so I was a kinda celebrity. They were also amused by how tiny I was in comparison to them. Nowadays I may seem small even to modern white men, but back when I was young 5'6" wasn't much under an average height. The Alutna caught me a few times trading skesk, but they really didn't know what to do about it. There are no Nokhon laws for dealing with NokhSos, officially we don't exist in their world. Actually, they were legally required to avoid ever coming in contact with me. So unless a NokhSo KILLS a Nokhon there's not much they are authorized to do. Trading with skesk was not illegal in my culture, I was just being a typical no-good troublesome white man-- they might not like it, but the only way they could interfere was to punish my Nokhon customers. Later on, when I was studying magic and striving to become a Sha-haka-- in other words, trying to earn my place in Nokhon society --those officials who were to certify my skill and attitude finally had a way to interfere with my scandalous activities. They simply demanded that I promise not to smuggle any more skesk before they would certify me. Actually, that was fair enough: I was living the life of an outlaw while craving respect for the Nokhon-ness I had achieved. But I had a lot of friends and customers counting on me, I also resented that they could blackmail me like that. So I refused to make that promise for a while. But then I was officially invited to Aket. By the chief of police, no less. I wondered if it was a trap to put me out of business by simply keeping me there. I had wanted to visit Aket for years, but now that the chance had come I was nervous about it. But the Alutna weren't physically dragging me in, it was a formal invitation from Dastardat, back then Alutna-Jii of Aket. I'd never met the man but he was famous for being a strict cop, maybe a little over-ambitious, if not outright power-hungry. There were bad stories about him, but also some good stories from people he'd helped out. Of course, I went to Aket to meet him. And of course Aket astounded me: that underground city, those big crystal illumination rods lighting it up, the multi-thousand year old temples. The paradox of an architectural marvel housing Nokhons who had no technology. And in the middle of it all, something so pedestrian as a police station-- Nokhon-style, naturally. Dastardat surprised me too. Maybe the most powerful Nokhon in that part of the world-- and him being just a tiny little twerp. Oh, he was bigger than ME, probably around 6' tall, but was definitely the smallest adult Bigfoot male I'd ever seen, absurdly puny compared to any one of his big burly Alutna cops. He was also shockingly UGLY; warts, bald patches, big lower lip, baggy eyes. I politely pretended not to notice. I'd been escorted into "Alutna Headquarters" by a cop who'd been friendly enough, Daquondet, whom I'd been accosted by several times for Trading (but who'd finally asked me to get him a box of wooden matches). Dastardat was issuing commands to his troops, sounding quite arrogant and unpleasant, but when he turned to me he was all smiles and jovial. "Ah, our infamous Trader, Dawalasat! Welcome to Aket!" Then he laughed, delighted about something. It didn't take me long to realize that what delighted him was finally meeting a person smaller than himself. Then he took me to his private chambers to discuss why he had invited me to Aket. I was surprised by how friendly he was trying to be, casually mentioning that I could finally get my Sha-haka accreditation--having deserved it, after all, etc--and complementing me upon being the only NokhSo in the world to have ever come so far into Nokhon society. It didn't take long to figure out that he wanted something from me. And he did: forbidden skesk. I was hardly surprised. I was the only Trader around. And I could sense that it would be worth my while to get this particular man whatever he wanted. But I knew it wouldn't be a book of matches, nor was it. Dastardat wanted a noisekiller. There is no skesk more forbidden than white man's weapons. Even for the Alutna-Jii. Dastardat could see that I was shocked and he began to present well-formulated arguments about how NokhSo police always had pistols or rifles, so why shouldn't an Alutna-Jii? Was that so wrong? He was very convincing; I was bobbing my head, not knowing what to say. Finally, against all my own personal convictions, I agreed to get him a pistol. Looking back on it now, I realize that he'd hypnotized me. Dastardat was a master at psychic manipulation, even back then. Later he would learn to completely take over people's minds-- as he eventually did to Daklakht, controlling him from the other side of the world-- and at that time he managed to dazzle and charm me into thinking "what an outstanding fellow!" and how I'd love to get him whatever he needed. Procuring a pistol for the local Sheriff seemed hardly unreasonable. He even allowed me to stay an extra day in Aket so that I could be a tourist, and so that we could discuss just which kind of noisekiller he should have. He wanted a pistol with belt & holster, so that he could draw from the hip like a cowboy. I asked how he knew about such things, unable to fathom that he'd ever seen a Western movie in a theater. That he hadn't, but he had observed actual cowboys out in the West before he'd come to Aket. When I returned home to Mazaza and told her of my visit to Aket she was scandalized that the Alutna-Jii of Aket would have me bring him a noisekiller. I couldn't understand her antagonism to the idea, still enchanted by Dastardat's words. We had one of our very few arguments in the 10 years we'd been together and I stormed out, determined to go get a pistol. I couldn't find anything useful in Monroe, but at a pawn shop in Everett I found a used Colt .45-- a real cowboy 6-shooter. I knew nothing about guns, but it seemed about right. The holster belt had slots to hold extra bullets, so it looked quite formidable. Cost me $99 with 2 boxes of bullets, the most expensive piece of skesk I'd ever bought. This was just after both the Great Depression and Prohibition had ended, neither of which had affected me, since I had plenty of money from my gold trading and I was actually living on nothing, cash-wise. On my usual trading route it would take me a week to get to Aket, which is not the most accessible place in the world; way out in the mountains, far from any roads, much like Shamballah. But I felt a compulsion to deliver Dastardat's package as soon as possible, so I went directly to Aket. It's a long way but I did it in one feverish push. I had no trouble getting into Aket, they'd been expecting me. The noisekiller was to be a secret, so I'd hidden it in my coat, knowing I'd never be searched. I found Dastardat at the HQ and he dropped everything and hurried me into his chamber. He was excited as a kid at Christmas. I unwrapped the package and he admired it, almost in ecstasy. Then he took the pistol up and tried it in his hand. Smiling... then frowning. He couldn't get his finger in the trigger guard, his hands were too big. Even though he was only 6' tall, his hands and feet were oversized, like all Bigfoot folk. I tried to show him how to fan the pistol, but he wasn't interested in that, he wanted to pull the trigger, the way he had seen it done. He was disappointed. Then he was angry, acting like a spoiled brat not having his way. Then he got mean. He called me "Skyøma" and slapped me, I fell down. He may not have been the biggest but he was still a Bigfoot, hell of a lot stronger than me. I think he was a little surprised at how easy I went down because he backed off and half-apologized, muttering "Skii'ens". Then he told me to leave Aket at once. It was another year before I returned to Aket, since I had no business there anyway. Mazaza was scandalized all over again at Dastardat's behavior and considered going to Aket and giving him a good telling-to, but no one can enter Aket without an invitation, so even though she had been there many times and was considered a respected Sha-haka-ma it might have been pointless.
I spent a few years away from the Pacific Northwest, from 1942 to 45, when I was involved in World War II. I'd been too young for WWI and was in my late forties for this new war, so I could have avoided it, especially since no one in the USA knew how to find me anyway. But on one of my rare visits to my brother Hiram's family in Seattle I happened to attend a funeral for his son Gerry, who had died as a soldier in Europe. Not that I really even knew who Gerry was, but I finally paid attention to what was happening in the NokhSo world, and once I learned what Hitler and his Nazis were doing I felt I had to step in. At the recruiting center in Seattle they said I was too old, but I took the physical and passed it like a young man. Now I'm a dime over a century, so I guess I actually will be too old at some point, but I ain't yet and I warn't back then. I went into the war as a regular soldier, but had some Sha-haka talents that proved useful. They were recognized by my officers and I was assigned to a special espionage group (OSS) behind the lines, where I found allies among Nokontli in Europe--all those Germanic myths about Trolls were hardly fairy tales-- we liberated some concentration camps and did some damage to the Nazis. But that's another story, this one is supposed to be about Dastardat. As soon as the war ended I returned to Mazaza and my Nokhon existence. And just in time, I'd been getting old fast after three years of bad nutrition and unhealthy NokhSo ways. I had not been immune to the poisonous temptations of standard human life: bad food and bad drink had wounded me more than any bullets or bombs. Probably took ten years off my life. So it was good to return to the woods and my One True Love. The money in my Monroe bank account was mostly used up due to some poor investments, so I took up trading with the Nokhontli again, after having been away for three years. I still had customers who wished to trade, since there was no other Nokhon who spoke their language and could go to town and pick up skesk. I had the monopoly. Most Nokhons I met were friendly, but others resented that a damned NokhSo would be trafficking in skesk, tempting the innocent to sin. One of those was Dafnat, a religious fanatic who reminded me of my father. He was younger than me, but acted like a fussy-frumpy old man, always reciting Atli to correct people in the error of their ways. One day he warned me: "Just wait till you meet the new Alutna officer Daklakht, he'll put a stop to your trading. He won't tolerate skesk! And he HATES NokhSos like you!" Others also warned me about the new Alutna's hate for standard humans: "Better watch it, I've heard he's KILLED four NokhSos!" "Daklakht, the new Alutna agent? Really big and tough. Hate NokhSos? Oh yeah, there's a story that when he was just a kid way up north two of his friends got murdered by lumberjacks , so he killed those four white men right back. They say he's one of the last examples of a rare Warrior Breed." So of course I became nervous about bumping into this new NokhSo-hating mad-killer ultimate-warrior Alutna, since I'd just reestablished my trading routine and was going the rounds to take orders for what my customers needed, loaning them equipment to pan for gold with--which was itself skesk. But he never showed up. So I made my usual trip to civilization to load up on goods and returned, began making deliveries when Daklakht finally accosted me. He was waiting along my route through the Cascade Mountains, which was hardly secret. My customers were expecting me, everybody knew where I would be. He stepped out of the forest and into my path, stopping me. Not saying a word, studying me. I knew who he had to be, although I was surprised: I'd been expecting a huge brute, a beast-Bigfoot, crude and cruel. Well, big he was, at least eight feet tall, but Daklakht was also just a kid back then, a teen-ager. He was actually a rather handsome example of Bigfoot, slim but muscular, graceful and agile, quite impressive and attractive. He was so youthful and clean-limbed that he could barely braid his sparse beard to identify himself as Alutna. My first reaction was that I liked him, even under those conditions. "I hear that you speak Nokhontli," he said to begin our conversation. "I do. I am also a certified Sha-haka and..." "You are Dawalasat, the Trader. I am going to confiscate your skesk. If you resist..." then he looked down at my scrawny little 5'6" of NokhSo scrawniness and rolled his eyes at the absurdity of me trying to fight him off, "...well, please don't." I felt no threat from him. No hate for my race, which I had dreaded, or at least no demonstration of it. This was a good cop doing his duty. Although economically this was threatening enough: I needed to trade. So I politely discussed with him, hands behind my back, not really daring to argue or resist. "And I'm sure you are Daklakht, the new Alutna. Greetings. But I'm not sure you are authorized to steal my goods. Skesk is not forbidden to a NokhSo." He considered that, no irritation or arrogance in his manner. Although perhaps some uncertainty-- he was quite young, after all. Then he bobbed his head, a decision made: "Fine. Take it with you as you leave, but you shall not be dealing it out to devotees of the Atli. It is forbidden for them, and you know it." He had me there, but I was not ready to give up. "Yes, I know it. But people want it anyway. I am helping them in ways no one else can. I consider that my duty." "Perhaps so, but it is my duty to stop all violations of Atli." "Actually, officer Daklakht, you yourself are in violation of Atli even now, simply by speaking to a NokhSo like me." I realized that sounded maybe a little too smartass, so I mitigated what I could. "What I mean is that sometimes the rules are so unrealistic that you can't avoid breaking them." That got a couple of blinks out of him before he frowned, stepped forward, and towering above me said, "You should leave and never return. You are not a Nokhon-- why are you even here?" I hefted my little Sha-haka shoulder bag to display my credentials in Nokhon society, which was redundant and perhaps provocative, but I also looked him in the eyes and spoke as humbly as possible: "I am among you because I love a Nokhon female. And therefore all Nokhons... more or less." That stopped him. I suddenly realized that he was still young enough to be a romantic. He stepped back again. An equally sudden inspiration struck me. "Besides," I said, "I believe you'd better speak with your Alutna-Jii before throwing me out of my home. Last time I was around here he invited me to Aket." I knew I was taking a chance with that one. Last time I'd seen Dastardat he'd knocked me down and had me thrown out of Aket. That was years ago, no way of knowing how he felt about me now. I knew better than to mention anything about procuring him skesk-- and especially a noisekiller! --but Daklakht was obviously not stupid. His eyes narrowed. Then he turned to go. "I shall speak with the Alutna-Jii. Then we'll see." "Great. Oh, and please say Kha to Dastardat for me, okay? Oh, and ask him if there's anything he needs."
I continued my rounds, wondering if I had won a victory or a temporary respite. I warned my customers that the new Alutna might come visiting, since he was aware of who was doing what. A few of them decided not to trade, although they gave me the gold they had panned anyway just to get rid of it-- it meant nothing to them and they could have credit with me for next time. Others went ahead and traded, secure that their hiding places for skesk were safe enough to fool some young whipper-snapper cop. Which was probably true: most of the articles were small-- the official Boy Scouts of America pocket knives with all the folding blades and tools were especially popular items those days...even though Nokhons had no pockets. Old Dannat was one of the first Nokhons I'd met, because he was a friend of Mazaza. He'd been old even back then, long white hair all over and really big, almost 9' tall. He'd seemed so grumpy and disapproving of me when I first met him (a damned NokhSo!), which only got worse once I started trading skesk, since Dannat was very strict about skesk himself. So I couldn't really call him a friend, but neither could I help respecting his wisdom and skill at curing the very few actual illnesses that affect Nokhons, or healing those who'd gotten hurt by accident or gunshot (readers know Dannat as the "witch-doctor" who healed Adam's almost fatal wound). I learned that he'd been appointed chief Elder of his mlønoli since I'd seen him last, before I'd gone off to the NokhSo War. So I stopped by his bakhl to congratulate him and was surprised at his almost cordial greeting upon my return. He mentioned how Mazaza had missed me and how glad she was now that I'd come back. I was amazed at how much he knew about the NokhSo war and what part I had taken to thwart an evil society gone berserk (the Nazis). It was as if he almost respected me-- were it not for my dealings with skesk, that is. I mentioned my encounter with the new Alutna and Dannat said: "Daklakht is fair enough but more strict than we're used to around here, so there has been some criticism. But I for one am glad we have an honest and diligent cop for a change. I predict greatness for that young man." Today, 70 years later, I agree with old Dannat, but at that time I was worried that the "honest cop" would be putting me out of business. My next encounter with Daklakht came about a month after the first. I had finished my route and was heading home to Mazaza when he appeared beside me in the deepest rain forest. Startled me, I can usually hear someone coming, even Nokhons. But not him. I was worried that he was going to take action against me, but he only spoke to me. Reluctantly. "I have spoken with the Alutna-Jii. I am not to interfere with Dawalasat the Trader." He was obviously not happy to be saying that. But he looked much more distressed to say: "And Dastardat requires a... gift from you." I was not surprised that Dastardat wanted a bribe, but that he would misuse an honest cop to make the deal offended me somewhat. I couldn't help feeling sorry for young Daklakht, and embarrassed to see his shame. I'd been prepared, just in case I ran into the Alutna-Jii's clutches. I knew a BSA pocket knife would not do the trick, Dastardat had more aggressive tastes. So I had hidden a big, long, sharp, dramatically-shaped Bowie Knife of chromium steel inside my backpack, ready for just such an occasion. I'd taken no chances this time: it was oversized and Dastardat should have no problem fitting it into his hand. I had prudently covered it in a packaging of mud and leaves to disguise its skesk-ness. I pulled it out and offered it to Daklakht. He stepped back, hands up, afraid of it. "I do not wish to touch... skesk," he said, really looking like an innocent child now. I could see that it was against his uncorrupted nature to be compromised like this. To help him out I said, "But you can't really KNOW what this is unless you unpack it." Turned the package over and around: leaves, dried mud-- nature. "So don't unpack it and you remain innocent." He gave me an accusing "do you think I'm an idiot?" look, which then softened to a grateful recognition that I was offering him an honorable way out. But still he hesitated. I sympathized. "Should I take it to Aket myself?" "No. I... it must be me. He is testing my obedience." He reached out his hand. "Ah. He is a bit of an asshole, isn't he?" I placed the clump of nature in his hand. He didn't even wince, good self-control. "I shall not disparage my commander." But he couldn't hold back a partial head-bob of confirmation. Then he was gone into the forest again and I did not see him for many moons. Maybe he was avoiding me. Nor did I see Dastardat, the Alutna-Jii, although I heard from him and about him. Not that I was invited to Aket, but I would get a request for a new bribe every so often via some Alutna agents I met here and there. And bribes they were: he never traded anything back, nor was I ever reimbursed for the Colt .45 he'd been dissatisfied with. He certainly didn't return it to me. Actually, I worried about that deadly weapon lying around for someone with no comprehension of how a gun works playing with it and getting killed, which I could consider my fault. The things I heard about him worried me too. It became clear that he was corrupt and greedy, politically ambitious and obsessed with dominating everyone around him. I expected people to revolt but his authority kept growing. I had personally experienced that he could be mean and knew that he had a perverse affection for weapons that could expand his authority and do harm to other people . For 'sample, he had armed his personal Alutna guard with clubs, heavy wooden batons, so that they could hurt people, beat them down. Nokhon folk do not normally carry weapons, including Alutna, because weapons are skesk. But Dastardat ignored that and had his soldiers special-trained to be ruthless. Like I's said, bit of an asshole. But generally I was unaffected by Dastardat's regime, he could have sicced his Alutna on me, but actually he didn't care a rat's ass about my violations of Atli, he was more interested in committing his own. So I just stayed away from Aket and tended my customers, loved my Mazaza and lived the good life. Years passed like that. Dak, however, had all sorts of trouble under Dastardat's command. They had conflicting perceptions of right and wrong, which became more problematic as Dastardat became more ruthless. It didn't help their relationship the time Dastardat attempted to cornhole Dak, who defended himself by demonstrating just how much stronger he was than that pathetic little runt. Dastardat's inflated little ego couldn't tolerate that, so afterwards Dak was assigned to some intolerable missions and eventually suspended from duty as Alutna. Staying in Aket, Dak studied to become Sha-haka. He specialized in psychic confrontation, which put him in the same league as Dastardat. Eventually Dastardat called him back into Altna duty, seemingly reconciliated for a while, but eventually they became bitter enemies, Dak often accusing the Alutna-Jii of corruption, abuse of power and actual murder. But it was still Dastardat who had the authority. According to Dak, Dastardat had achieved his position as Alutna-Jii by a lifetime career of cheating and illegal manipulations, coupled with a remarkable talent for psychic domination: he was outrageously gifted at making people believe his lies and obey his commands. Originally starting as a lowly Alutna at Shamballah, he'd made a play for power so blatantly suspicious— their own Alutna-Jii mysteriously dying --that he'd been exiled in disgrace. So he crossed the Bering Strait and came to Aket with a set of "believable" lies that got him into the local Alutna. Then over the years he gradually-- having learned to not be so obviously criminal --wormed his way up to the office of Alutna-Jii. But his actual goals were political. He'd arranged for his loyal Ma-ralla-hata to be among the Three Elders of Aket, but that was hardly power enough for his ambitions. He still had a cadre of supporters at Shamballah, and over the years had them working on establishing a situation among the Ultimate Nine Elders. Some Elders died mysteriously and some of Dastardat's agents managed to replace them. All the while Dastardat was arranging an eventual place for himself among those Nine Elders of Shamballah, who rule the entire Nokhon world. This was all taking place over many years-- in reference to USA time, from the 40's to the 90's. Nokhons live long lives, and so have I. I remember Mazaza's very best friend Mafalima giving birth to Dagrolyt half a century ago. And how a couple of years later she was also chosen to give birth again, to Dabronat-- two children to one mother is a rare thing among the Nokhontli. Being a friend of the family I was amused to watch those two brothers growing up, because they were such outrageous rascals. Always getting in trouble, but always being forgiven because there are so few children for the adults to dote upon. But they never became spoiled brats, they were always sweet natured and fun. Dagrolyt grew up and became a Sha-haka, Dabronat got into skesk-trouble and was not permitted to finish his studies. Now Dagrolyt is one of my traveling companions, funny how things come together. But while we lived those years without any major problems from Aket's governing policies, that was not so for our other traveling companion. Daklakht was in constant turmoil with his commander. Early in what humans call the 70's there'd been a revolution about to happen in the Gobi Desert, involving both rogue Yetis and Mao's Red Chinese troops. Daklakht already had a reputation for being an Alutna super-agent extremely capable of solving problems, so the Ultimate Nine Elders commanded him to come to Shamballah and fix things. He was gone for a couple of years. That was the first time Daklakht came here, about 45 years back. The second time was 20 years ago, this is his third. But for Dagrolyt and me, this is all new.
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