Servant of the Empire (67 page)

Arakasi sighed deeply and set down his glass. ‘Perhaps not. Axantucar of the Oaxatucan also suffered an attack.’

Mara heard this without surprise, for he had strong rivals within his own faction. ‘How did he fare?’

‘Well enough.’ Eyes closed, the Spy Master forced himself to relax. With his head tipped back against the wall, he added, ‘All the attackers died, which is surprising. They were tong.’

But Axantucar was always a competent fighter; he, too, had managed armies on the barbarian world. Mara observed her Spy Master and noted that tension had not quite left him. ‘You know more.’

‘I wish that I did not, mistress.’ Arakasi opened eyes that shone too bleak. ‘A delegation of Lords went to the imperial barracks and presented the Commander of the Emperor’s garrison with a demand. They wished three companies of Imperial Whites to guard the Council Hall. The Commander refused. Since the Light of Heaven has called no official council, the halls are not his responsibility. The duty appointed him was to protect the Imperial Family, and he would send no soldiers away from their post unless his Emperor saw fit to give orders.’

Mara tapped her wineglass in a fever of suppressed irritation. ‘When will the Emperor return?’

‘Noon tomorrow, by all reports.’

Mara sighed. ‘Then we have no choice but to endure.
Order will be restored when the Emperor steps into the palace.’

Kevin raised his eyebrows. ‘His presence alone will do that?’

Dryly, Arakasi corrected, ‘The five thousand soldiers he brings with him will do that.’ He went on to add, ‘The great Lords have made their case adamantly. Also the Chief Priests of the Twenty Orders adjourned late last night and proclaimed that the betrayal on Midkemia was evidence of divine anger. Tsurani tradition has been broken, they say, and the Light of Heaven strayed from spiritual to mundane concerns. If Ichindar had the support of the temples, he might command still, but at this point he must relent and allow the council to name a new Warlord.’

‘Then the matter must be settled by noon,’ observed Mara. The reasons were all too clear. Enough misfortune had occurred since the Emperor set his hand in the game. The High Council Lords had shown they would not be displaced. A new Warlord would greet Ichindar upon his return to the palace.

‘Tonight,’ said Arakasi quietly, ‘this building will become a battlefield.’

Kevin yawned. ‘Will we get any sleep before then?’

‘This morning only,’ Mara allowed. ‘We must be at council this afternoon. Today’s meetings will largely decide who lives through tonight. And tomorrow, whoever survives will appoint the new Warlord of Tsuranuanni.’

As Arakasi gathered himself to rise from his pillows, Mara waved him back. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘You will stay and rest for the day.’

The Spy Master did little but look at her, yet Mara spoke as if he questioned her aloud. ‘No,’ she repeated. ‘This is a command. Only a fool would assume that the Minwanabi will not make an appearance. You have done enough, and more, and Kevin spoke rightly last night. Whether or not
there is a threat against the Acoma, I will not leave this council. We are already as prepared as we can be for an attack. If our efforts are not enough, then Ayaki is protected at home.’

Arakasi inclined his white-wrapped head. His fatigue must have been great, for the next time Kevin looked, the nervous intelligence of the man had stilled. Mara’s Spy Master lay in a loose-limbed sprawl, soundly and finally asleep.

Disquiet pervaded the great Council Hall. Mara was not the only ruling noble to enter with more than the traditionally permitted honour guard – the aisles between seats and concourses were packed with armoured warriors, and the hall looked more like a marshalling yard than a chamber for deliberation. Each Lord kept his soldiers at hand, sitting on the floor at his feet, or lined up along the railings between stairways. Any who needed to travel from place to place were forced to take tortuous routes, often stepping over warriors who could only bow their heads and mutter apologies for the inconvenience.

As Mara picked her way between the retinues of two rival factions, Kevin muttered, ‘If one idiot drew a sword in here, hundreds would die before anyone had a chance to ask why.’

Mara nodded. She said softly, ‘Look there.’

In the lowest gallery, the seat opposite the Warlord’s dais at last stood occupied. Warriors in orange and black filled the floor in a wedge formation, and in their midst, clad in battle gear barely more ornamented than an officer’s, sat Tasaio of the Minwanabi. If Kevin had been disappointed by the late Lord Desio’s innocuous appearance, the same could not be said of his cousin’s. Tasaio sat his chair with a relaxed and waiting stillness that even from a distance revealed presence. Kevin was reminded of nothing so much
as a tiger. Briefly, Tasaio glanced across the chamber. His eyes locked with Kevin’s for an instant; yet recognition occurred. The face beneath the fluted rim of the helm stayed impassive, but there was no mistaking the shock of awareness that passed between the two men.

Kevin stared a moment longer, then bent his head toward his Lady. ‘The tiger knows we’re outside his lair.’

Mara arrived at her chair, and sat, and by all appearance seemed occupied with arranging her formal overrobe. ‘Tiger?’

‘Like one of your sarcats, only four legged, twice as big, and a lot more dangerous.’ Kevin assumed his position behind her chair, crowded into the narrow space by the press of extra warriors who normally would have waited on the upper concourse.

Mara took stock of the hall, which seemed more gloomy and, oddly, more resonant to sound. There were empty chairs, with the gloss of armour and sword scabbards more plentiful than fine silks and jewels among the Lords present. As intrigues became more tangled, the talk turned convoluted; words gained layers of meaning, and looks between Lords were all weighted. Each empty place meant a council member dead or intimidated into withdrawal. The factions that remained were resolute, and some caucuses fairly bristled with unspoken aggression.

A council runner brought Mara a note. She slit the seal, glanced at the two chops stamped inside, then motioned for the boy to wait while she read. Lord Zanwai entered, along with a dozen warriors. He appeared recovered from his ordeal the night before, and as a blocked aisle forced him to improvise a route, he chose one that brought him close to Mara. He gifted the Acoma Lady with a smile and slight nod as he passed.

She returned his tacit greeting, then penned a response to the note just received and dispatched the runner to another
gallery. To Lujan she said, ‘We’ve gained two more votes, in thanks for Arakasi’s information.’

The morning’s business wore on. Mara exchanged talk with a dozen Lords on seemingly harmless subjects. Although Kevin tried to follow the byplay, he could not discern if the exchanges masked threats or offers of alliance. More and more, he found his eyes drawn to the lower gallery, where Lord after Lord paid court to Tasaio of the Minwanabi. Kevin could not help but notice that the visitors spoke most, while Tasaio largely remained silent. When he did reply, his words were sparse and crisp, as evidenced by the flash of white teeth. The warriors at his sandalled feet moved no muscle all the while, but sat with the inhuman poise of statues.

‘His followers fear him,’ Kevin whispered to Lujan in a stolen moment of confidence.

The Acoma Force Commander returned a barely perceptible nod. ‘With good reason,’ he murmured back. ‘Tasaio is a superb killer, and he keeps his skills sharp by using them.’

His gaze on the figure in the orange-and-black chair, Kevin felt a chill skim his flesh. If the Game of the Council was ruthless, there sat the most merciless player of them all.

Mara returned to her quarters for lunch and a consultation with her advisers. Arakasi had tied his arm in a sling and commandeered her writing desk. By the clutter of notes and quills, he had been busy, and remained so as Mara asked her servants to bring up trays of light food. Kevin watched the Spy Master pen three more missives in the interim, the parchments held braced under his splinted forearm, while he wrote in level, left-handed script.

‘You’re right-handed,’ the Midkemian accused; he had a swordsman’s eye, and noting which hand a man used was part of an ingrained reflex. ‘I would have sworn it.’

Arakasi did not look up. ‘Today I cannot be,’ he said with spare irony.

When Kevin looked to see if the penmanship suffered, he was further awed to find that the handwriting varied like artistry. One of the notes looked as though it had been scribed by a strong male hand; another seemed feminine and delicate; and yet another, as if the author could neither read nor spell with skill, but struggled by with scanty education.

‘Do you ever get confused about who you are today?’ Kevin asked, for he had yet to find an impersonation that the Spy Master would not try.

Arakasi deemed the question beneath notice and went on with enviable dexterity to fold and seal his letters one-handed. By now Mara had slipped out of her overrobe. She did not ask Arakasi to move, but sat instead on the sleeping mat he had vacated.

‘Who is going to deliver those?’ she asked tartly.

The Spy Master acknowledged her annoyance by offering a bow made graceless by the encumbrance of the sling. ‘Kenji volunteered once already,’ he said gently. ‘These are the replies to a good morning’s work.’ As Mara’s look warmed toward outrage, Arakasi raised his brows in reproof. ‘You forbade me to go out, and I have not done so.’

‘So I see,’ Mara said. ‘I should have assumed you could feign sleep as well as you shape your disguises.’

‘The effects of the wine were quite genuine,’ Arakasi objected, faintly hurt. He looked at the papers scattered around his knees. ‘You do wish to know what I’ve learned?’

‘Tasaio,’ Mara cut in. ‘He’s here.’

‘More than that.’ Arakasi’s air of lightness disappeared. ‘Most of the struggles so far have been tactical sparring. Tonight that will change. Entire sections of the palace are being set up as staging areas for large numbers of warriors and assassins. Some prior battles were fought simply to gain quarters from which to launch assaults.’

Mara looked silently to Lujan, who said, ‘Mistress, our soldiers are still two days away by forced march. We must rely upon the forces we have here to defend you.’

These words left a difficult silence, through which the arrival of the servant with the lunch trays seemed a clattering, alien intrusion. Mara sighed. ‘Arakasi?’

The Spy Master grasped her meaning by instinct. ‘Intelligence will not be necessary. Tasaio is preoccupied with gaining support for his own claim to the Warlord’s throne. He expects you will throw Acoma support to whichever of his opponents is strongest. Even if he overestimates your courage, and you try to bury your enmity under a show of neutrality, he will still move to obliterate you. Your death would satisfy his family’s blood vow to the Red God, and additionally throw your allies into disarray. Your popularity is on the rise. To cut you down would bring notice, perhaps give the Minwanabi enough edge to claim the white and gold over whoever emerges intact from the infighting of the Omechan Clan.’

By now Mara had recovered her wits. ‘I have a plan. Who else is likely to be attacked tonight?’

Arakasi did not need to consult any notes. ‘Hoppara of the Xacatecas and Iliando of the Bontura seem high on the list.’

‘Iliando of the Bontura? But he’s one of Lord Tecuma’s best friends and an Ionani stalwart.’ Mara noticed the servant hanging uncertainly by the food trays. She motioned for the man to resume his duties. ‘Why would an Ionani Lord be singled out as a target?’

‘As a warning to the Tonmargu and other Ionani Clan Lords not to oppose Tasaio or the Omechans,’ Arakasi supplied.

Kevin said, ‘A polite note would be sufficient, I should think.’

Lujan broke in with dry humour. ‘Killing Lord Iliando is a Tsurani polite note.’

Mara gave the interruption short shrift; she asked Arakasi, ‘Could your contacts get word to the Lords you judge to be highest on Minwanabi’s list? I need to ask them for time in council this afternoon.’

Arakasi reached for his pen. He dipped the nib, slipped a sheet of fresh parchment under his splint, and said, ‘You will loan me Kenji and two warriors for the task?’ Without looking up between lines, he added, ‘They need only go to the city and leave the notes with a certain sandal maker in the river stalls. From there the deliveries will be accomplished by other hands.’

Mara closed her eyes as though she suffered from a headache. ‘You can have the use of half my company, if you need them.’ To Kevin she added, ‘See what Jican has ready for us to eat. We must be back in council shortly.’

While the Midkemian moved off to investigate the trays, Lujan left to review the state of his garrison. ‘Have the men rest,’ he instructed his Patrol Leaders. ‘Tonight we shall fight.’

When Kevin returned with a plate and juice, he found Mara still motionless on the mat. Her brows were gathered into a frown, her gaze distantly intense. ‘Are you all right?’

Mara focused on him as he laid the meal by her knees. ‘I’m just tired.’ She looked at the food without interest. ‘And worried.’

Kevin heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘Gods, I’m glad to hear you say that.’

Mara smiled at his japery. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’m scared senseless.’ Kevin stuck a two-tine Tsurani fork through a slab of cold jigabird as if he skewered an enemy. ‘It’s good to know you’re human under all that hard-boiled Tsurani stoicism. When I set out to do something foolhardy, the last thing I feel is complacent.’