Servant of the Empire (104 page)

Mara accepted the trophy with hands that openly trembled. ‘It was a close thing.’

Tasaio loosed a bitter laugh. ‘I think not. You have been touched by the gods, Mara.’ He glanced around the room. ‘Had you never been born, or had your family not died to make your inheritance possible, I have no doubt that change might have come. But this!’ He gestured in white rage at the assemblage of Lords, Magicians, and Emperor. ‘Nothing so momentously conclusive would ever have come to pass. I think I prefer facing the Red God to seeing the Great Game of our ancestors reduced to a paltry charade, and our Lords cast away pride and honour for subservience to the Light of Heaven.’ His hard topaz eyes roved one last time over the council he had dreamed he might rule. ‘Gods pity you all, and the Empire you surrender into disgrace.’

‘Be silent!’ Fumita snapped. ‘Shimone of the Assembly will conduct you back to your estates, my Lord Minwanabi.’

‘Wait, I beg you!’ Mara cried out. ‘Desio vowed to the Red God, on the blood of the Minwanabi line. By the terms of his oath, none who claim kinship with Tasaio may survive if the Acoma are not sacrificed.’

Hard as stone, Fumita faced the Lady of the Acoma. Foolish is the Lord who presumes that the gods take such a particular interest in his enemies. Desio transgressed prudent limits to make such a pledge. The gods do not suffer recanting such vows. His kin must suffer the consequences.’

But Mara felt as if Kevin stood at her shoulder, and his irrepressibly foreign beliefs left a clamour in her mind that not even the Great Ones might still. ‘What of Tasaio’s innocent wife and two children?’ she appealed. ‘Should their lives be wasted for honour?’

Desperate to see her point through, she spun and faced her enemy, only pity in her eyes. ‘Release your children from fealty to the Minwanabi natami and I will adopt them into House Acoma. I beg you, spare them their lives.’

Tasaio looked at her, aware that her concern sprang very near to the heart. Only to deny her, expressly to hurt, he cruelly shook his head. ‘Let their blood be on your conscience, Mara.’ So saying, he tugged the Warchief’s staff of Clan Shonshoni from his belt. ‘My Lord of the Sejaio,’ he called to a thick-necked man on the sidelines, ‘this is now your trust.’

As the staff of office was removed from his hand, he gave one last glance around the halls of power. Then, with a flat look of mockery at Mara and the Emperor, he turned with all his grace and arrogance to the slender magician beside Fumita. ‘I am ready, Great One.’

The magician took a metal device out of his robe, and a faint buzzing sounded through the hall. As he placed his hand upon Tasaio’s shoulder, both of them vanished without warning, the only sign of their passing a faint inrush of air into the space that they had occupied.

The Lord of the Sejaio regarded the Warchief’s staff he now held, and reluctantly came to stand before the Emperor. ‘Majesty! I do not know if I act for the Good of the Empire or not.’ He glanced at the other Lords who clustered
unanimously around Mara and Fumita. ‘But it is said that in the Great Game the gods favour the winners. I surrender to you the office of Warchief of the Shonshoni.’

Ichindar accepted the last of the five staves of office. Clearly, in words of newly unquestioned authority, he pronounced, ‘The office of Warlord is no more!’ Without further ceremony he snapped each staff in two halves and cast the fragments on the floor. Then, over the echoes as the broken rods tumbled down the stair of the dais, he called upon Kamatsu of the Shinzawai.

Hokanu’s father returned a bow of deep courtesy. ‘Majesty?’

‘The Empire has need of you,’ decreed the Light of Heaven. ‘I appoint you to a new office, Imperial Chancellor.’

Again Kamatsu bowed. ‘To serve the Empire, Majesty, I will gladly accept.’

To the assembly of nobles, Ichindar proclaimed, ‘Kamatsu of the Shinzawai is my voice and my ear. He shall hear your requests, your needs, and your suggestions as we undertake to reshape our nations.’ When the new Imperial Chancellor was dismissed, the Light of Heaven called another name.

‘Frasai of the Tonmargu!’

The old soldier made his way forward. ‘Majesty!’

‘We shall have need of one to oversee military matters. If Kamatsu is my eyes and ears, will you act as my good arm?’

‘To serve the Empire!’ Lord Frasai returned in his basso voice.

Clearly, Ichindar outlined new duties. ‘Frasai of the Tonmargu shall bear the title of Imperial Overlord. He shall conduct the business of the Empire as did the Warlord in days past, but only at my bidding.’ Then Ichindar inclined his gleaming helm toward a figure nearest to Mara. ‘Further, I instruct Hoppara of the Xacatecas to act as his second-in-command.’

The youthful Lord grinned at Mara. ‘To serve the Empire!’ he cried exuberantly.

Mara gave him Tasaio’s sword. ‘Send this to the desert-men, to honour your father’s vow.’

Hoppara of the Xacatecas received the ancient sword from her hands and bowed respectfully.

And then the Light of Heaven turned his visage to the Lady who stood patiently in robes of shimmering green silk. ‘Mara of the Acoma!’

The woman who had given him a throne, and the burdens of absolute power, looked up, her eyes unreadably deep and her emotions locked behind impeccable Tsurani bearing.

‘You have prevented chaos from overtaking the nations,’ Ichindar stated to those at large. And then his tone turned personal. ‘What reward can we offer?’

Mara found herself blushing. ‘Majesty, in truth, I wished for nothing beyond the chance to conduct the affairs of my family in peace and prosperity. I fear I have sacrificed too much of my honour to deserve any reward.’

‘And yet you set aside those very needs, and honour, to serve the greater good,’ Ichindar pointed out. ‘You have reminded us of forgotten truths and true greatness.’ He paused to sweep the air with one golden-armoured hand. ‘You have recalled to our times a concept neglected for centuries. By your sacrifice, by setting aside family for the good of the nation at large, you have defined the highest of all honours. Is there no reward we might grant?’

Mara considered barely a moment. ‘Majesty, I would ask for title to the estate and lands that belonged to the Lord of the Minwanabi.’

A harsh, uneasy mutter ran the breadth of the hall. Tsurani tradition dictated that a fallen house was accursed by the gods, to be avoided by commoner and noble alike. Many fine estates were gone to ruin and weeds as a result of the deep-seated conviction that a Lord’s luck was tied to the soil.

The Emperor made a gesture of uncertainty. ‘Why such an ill-omened gift, Lady?’

‘Majesty,’ she said gravely, ‘we gather today to embrace change. To my mind, it is the greater offence against heaven to allow a dwelling of such magnificence to be abandoned to waste and decay. I hold no fear of ill luck. Allow me, and I shall send to the Red God’s temple and seek clear notice that Desio’s blood vow stands fulfilled. Then may the priests of Chochocan bless the property, every foot if need be, and on the day when the restless spirits of the Minwanabi are banished in peace, I will make my home there.’

Struggling to hide tears of relief, Mara continued. ‘Too many good men and women have died, Majesty. Others are slaves, their talents denied, their potential ignored.’ Poignantly struck by the memory of Kevin, she fought her voice level and continued. ‘I work for a future of change, and for that, I ask to be first to break a profitless tradition.’

To her startling request, Ichindar nodded acquiescence. And into a stillness grown profound, as each Lord present examined his land and his people in a new light, Mara called out in appeal. ‘This waste must end. Now. To all who have stood against me in the past, I make this vow. Come to me with peace in your heart, and I will put an end to old conflicts.’ She glanced at Jiro of the Anasati, but he returned no flicker of feeling. His face under his red and yellow helm remained unreadably remote.

On the dais, the Emperor watched the exchange, and the wonder in the expressions of many of the nobles who were gathered. He sensed something of Mara’s emotions, and yet he understood but a fraction of what motivated this deep and complex woman. Profoundly moved by her vision of a forgiving victory, he said, ‘Lady Mara, lands are insufficient compensation for the gift of enlightened thought you have brought into this council. You have wealth and power, influence and prestige. At this moment none stands above
you in influence and greatness in this hall.’ He smiled in sudden wry humour. ‘I would offer to make you my tenth wife if I thought you would accept.’

At Mara’s blush of confusion, a wave of gentle laughter filled the hall. Over the general mirth, the Emperor raised his final command of the day. ‘You have chosen to serve others ahead of your own self-interest. Therefore you shall be recognized, throughout life and all of history. In past ages, when the Empire was yet young, when a citizen came forward to undertake extraordinary service at risk of life and honour, my forebears bestowed on them a title, that all in the land might recognize them with highest acclaim. Mara of the Acoma, I give to you the ancient title Servant of the Empire.’

Stunned speechless, Mara clung to the tatters of her bearing. Servant of the Empire! No man or woman in living memory had received such a loftv accolade. Only a score of times in two thousand years had the title been awarded. Those twenty names were recited for luck, and memorized by children as they learned the history of their people. The rank also brought formal adoption into the imperial household. Reeling mentally at her unanticipated rise in status, Mara realized that she and Ayaki could choose to retire to the palace and live upon imperial largesse for the remainder of her days.

‘You overwhelm me, Majesty,’ she managed at last.

And she bowed to his presence like the humblest of his servants.

Then Lord Hoppara of the Xacatecas let out a battle cry and the High Council hall erupted in cheers. Mara stood at the centre of a circle of admirers, giddy with the recognition that she had won, and more: she had ensured that her family was forever safe from the machinations of House Minwanabi.

Hokanu stood motionless.

Then, in the wash of golden light that fell through the western window, the son of the Shinzawai rested his hands upon the sill. His back to Mara, and his gaze directed outward into the colours of a brilliant sunset, he remained in silent contemplation.

Seated upon the cushions in Kamatsu’s private meeting room, Mara agonized that she could not see to read his face and gauge his reaction to her presence. Her distress was further heightened by anticipation of the difficult words she had yet to utter. She caught herself in Kevin’s habit of picking at the fabric’s fine fringes, and forced back sadness and longing as she stopped. She must live out her days as Lady of the Acoma, even as her beloved must as a free son of Zun.

‘Lady,’ Hokanu said softly, ‘things between us have changed, since we spoke last.’ A tinge of awe touched his tone, and his hands tightened against the beautifully inlaid wood of the window frame. ‘I am heir to the Shinzawai Lordship, true, but you … are Servant of the Empire. What life could there be between us, with such a vast gap between our ranks?’

With an effort, Mara shook off her memories of a roguish barbarian slave. ‘We would live as man and woman, as equals, Hokanu. Our families and our names would continue through our progeny, and both our ancestral estates would be managed by factors.’

Bemused, Hokanu finished for her. ‘We would live in the mansion that once belonged to Minwanabi?’

Hearing a catch in his voice, Mara said, ‘Do you fear bad luck?’

Hokanu gave a short laugh. ‘You are all the luck I or any man would ever need, Lady.’ Absently he murmured, ‘Servant of the Empire …’ Then, in swift recovery of the topic at hand, he added, ‘I have always admired the home of the Minwanabi. With you at my side, I would most certainly find happiness there.’

Sensing he had reached the point of speaking formal words of acceptance of the marriage proposal his father Kamatsu had given him permission to decide, Mara spoke fast to forestall him.

‘Hokanu, before you say more, there is one thing I must tell you.’

Her serious tone caused him to turn from the window. She wished he had not. His directness made the task ahead more difficult. Fine dark eyes caught her in earnest appraisal, and at their clear depths, and the honest admiration in them, Mara felt a twist to the heart. Her words became painful to complete. ‘You should know: I am one month with child to another man, a slave I held in highest regard. He is returned forever to his homeland across the rift, and I will not see him again. Only if I marry, I add the insistence that his child be counted as legitimate.’

Hokanu’s handsome face showed not a flicker of expression. ‘Kevin,’ he mused aloud. ‘I know of your barbarian lover.’

Mara waited, tautly braced for an outburst of male jealousy. Her hands tightened on the cushions until fringes threatened to tear.

Her worry and nerves did not pass unnoticed. Hokanu crossed the room and gently pried her grip from the cloth. His touch was light, and trembling ever so slightly with emotions he politely did not show. ‘Lady, I would expect that you did not enter into this pregnancy lightly, knowing
you as I do. Therefore, I can only presume that Kevin was an honourable man.’

Her surprise brought a light of joy to his eyes. Suddenly smiling at her, he asked, ‘Did you forget I had spent time on Midkemia? My brother Kasumi made sure I was well educated in their “barbaric” concept of fairness.’ His tone made it clear he used the term in jest. ‘I am not a complete stranger to the fibre of the Midkemian people, Lady Mara.’ Then his smile twisted. ‘I was the one who chose to bring the “barbarian” Great One Pug to my father, sensing in him something rare.’ When the name didn’t bring a reaction from Mara, he added, ‘The one who came to be known as Milamber of the Assembly.’ Mara couldn’t contain a giddy rush as she saw the ironic humour. As she laughed lightly, he said, ‘In my own meagre way I played some small part in the tremendous events we have known.’