Most stories say that the Rajah was a jealous man, and most stories are right. The Rajah was a jealous man, and Tun Jana was a proud man. He was proud that he was related to the Sultan in his home kingdom of Pasai.  He was proud of his handsome moustache that curled upwards like a smile even when he frowned. He was also proud of the one hundred and thirty-two pieces of silver and forty gold coins in his purse. But most of all, he was proud of his magic.

Now, in those days, magic was a blurry memory and many thought that it could have only come from evil. Hang Nadim and Mak had magic, but it was magic that belonged to the land, and in itself neither good nor bad. Tun Jana Khateb's magic was of a different sort. It was taught to him by his grandfather and he used it with all the finesse of a martial artist, which is to say, that he used it to break things. Elegantly.

In fact, that was how he'd earned most of his one hundred and thirty-two pieces of silver and applause from two hundred and thirty-two pairs of hands. He used to stage shows in Pasai where he would split a tree from fifty metres away with a flick of his wrist or a roundhouse kick. It was also the last thing he would do before he died.

Tun Jana was a proud man, but he was also a proud man with a foolish plan. He went one morning to the Rajah's palace and stood in front of the Queen's veranda where a leafy Areca nut palm tree stood growing. "The Queen will be impressed with me and let me stage a show at court," he thought. "I will earn gold coins and royal favour and a jewelled kris and—" and didn't finish the thought as the Queen and her attendants came walking by.

"O beauteous majesty," he cried with enthusiasm. "The orchids hide their faces as you walk past for they are merely pretty in your presence. Plants droop and languish for you pay them no attention. This palm tree before me deserves to be removed for it prevents the sun from falling radiant on your dazzling face." And with that, Tun Jana stood away from the tree, squinted, and gazed fiercely at it. His handsome moustache bristled. With a sharp flick of his wrist, the tree shuddered and split into two with a loud CRACK. One half broke the roof of the gardener's hut while the other fell heavily to the ground. The Queen gazed in astonishment at the scene as her attendants tittered.

Meanwhile, her husband, the jealous Rajah, was standing in the background and had witnessed the magic show. Now, he shuddered in fury. "Curse the man!" He said with cold, precise anger. "He knew our queen was watching. He tried to show how clever he was!" Then he ordered his warriors to arrest Tun Jana Khateb for using magic and for flirting with the Queen.

And that was how Tun Jana Khateb found himself tied to a stake and stabbed to death with spears.

And that was the cause of the trouble.

The real trouble came the following day when the Rajah received reports of men dying of stab wounds all along the coastal shoreline.