Mistress of the Empire (85 page)

Still, some Black Robes remained unmollified. The High Priest of Chochocan made a sign of protection as Sevean shouted to the cho-ja, ‘You are foreigners! How
dare
you raise your arts to protect the condemned!’

‘Wait.’ All eyes turned as Mara stepped forward, boldly claiming the authority in the new order she had dreamed to achieve. Her bullion-edged sash of office proclaimed her Imperial Regent, even if the appointment had not been official. ‘I have a proposal to make.’

Those gathered in the hall stilled expectantly, and all eyes regarded the Lady who was Servant of the Empire as they waited to hear what she said.

Mara buried her doubt deep within her heart. Despite their inference to the contrary, the Chakaha mages had spent their powers in their warding of the great hall. After long rest, they might be able to defend her as they had boldly led the Black Robes to presume. As their magic had improved with the centuries, so had their understanding of their enemies. Cho-ja had cleverly manipulated the truth, implying what Mara had every reason to believe: that should the hive-home at Chakaha send reinforcements to Kentosani, she stood beyond harm from the Assembly for the rest of her life.

But now appearances were all she had to keep her opposition off balance. She dared not provoke any test of the cho-ja mages’ abilities. Between herself and a horrible death she had no weapons beyond words, bluff, and the politics of the Great Game. And the Black Robes were no fools. Mara took an inward grip on her poise and answered Sevean directly. ‘The cho-ja mages dare nothing, but act in the cause of justice! This embassy from Chakaha has come to make amends for the oppression of all our ancestors.’

Motecha shook his fist. ‘This is Forbidden! Any Empire cho-ja who supports uprising is forsworn! The Great Treaty Between Races has stood for thousands of years.’

‘Thousands of years of cruelty!’ Mara flung back. ‘Your precious Forbidden! Your hideous crime against a civilisation that did nothing more than resist the rapacious conquest of their lands! I have journeyed to Thuril. I have seen how the Chakaha cho-ja live. Which of you can say the same, magician?’ The lack of the honorific ‘Great One’ was lost on few in the room. Many Lords gasped in
admiration. The Imperial Whites stood sword-straight in their ranks, and Jehilia and Justin clasped hands.

The priests maintained solemn formality as Mara continued, ‘I have explored the beauty of cities raised by magic, and the peace of this great culture. I have seen what our vaunted Empire has stolen from the cho-ja, and I am determined to give it back.’

Hochopepa cleared his throat. ‘Lady Mara, you had allies within our ranks, until now. But this … obscenity’ – he gestured to the cho-ja magicians – ‘will unite us to a man.’

‘You aren’t united already?’ Mara lashed back in sarcasm. ‘Did the destruction of my litter and my closest retainers not indicate your Assembly’s decision on my execution?’

Here a few of the Great Ones shifted their weight and looked abashed, for Tapek’s impulsive act had not been regarded with favor. But the Assembly itself was Tsurani; that one of their number had shamed his office must never be admitted in public.

Mara’s eyes narrowed. ‘As for obscenity, that is a false charge! Why?’ Her wave encompassed the winged beings who flanked her. ‘Because these gentle creatures, who harbor no ill will to any of you, despite your persecution of their race, practice arts greater than your own?’ She quieted her voice to a whisper of menacing accusation. ‘Hochopepa, how can that be an obscenity to a body of men who kill children with power
because they are female?
’

At this disclosure, several Black Robes expelled breaths in frantic dismay. Motecha whirled and gestured to a nearby soldier. ‘Kill her!’ he commanded. ‘I order you.’

The Force Commander of the Imperial Whites stepped before Mara, his sword half drawn. ‘I will cut down the first man, soldier or magician, who threatens the Good Servant, even should I die in the attempt. My life and
honor are pledged to protect the Imperial Family. Before the gods, I will not forswear my first duty.’

Motecha did not shout, but power radiated in waves from his person as he demanded, ‘Stand away!’

The Imperial Force Commander met the magician’s authoritative gaze. ‘I will not, Great One.’ He snapped a hand signal.

Other white-clad warriors closed on the dais. Their armor might be ceremonial, but the blades they carried were sharp, flashing in the gloom as they drew weapons in a single motion. Akani rushed out and stayed the single warrior who had moved to obey Motecha out of fear. ‘No, wait.’

Motecha advanced on his colleague as if he faced an adversary sworn to murder. ‘You deny the law!’

‘I’d still rather not turn the Imperial Palace into a charnel house, if you don’t mind.’ The young magician gave Mara a wry shrug. ‘Good Servant, we have reached a difficult impasse.’ He indicated the Great Ones at his back, many of them eager to call down immediate attack on her person, a hundred Imperial Whites, and two cho-ja masters who might or might not have skills enough to defend. ‘If we don’t find a quick solution, many will die.’ He smiled in sour humor. ‘I don’t know if we must take your cho-ja friends at their word, or test to see whose magical prowess is the greater.’ He glanced at Motecha. ‘But given the difficulty we had in entering this very chamber, I have an inkling of the disaster that might result.’ Again he considered Mara, not entirely without warmth. ‘I have no doubt you wish to live and guide your son’s steps to maturity.’ He sighed and admitted, ‘There are those of the Assembly who would spend their lives to eradicate you for this rebellion immediately. Others would prefer peace, and use the opportunity to study what our cho-ja counterparts could offer to expand our knowledge of the great arts. I exhort every man and mage to step back and
refrain from profitless destruction until we have exhausted
all
other options.’

The cho-ja magician at Mara’s right hand furled its wings; its companion followed suit and said, ‘In this, perhaps we can assist.’ It added a cantrip in its native language and waved short forearms. An unseen disturbance seemed to pass across the chamber, and the tension between the combatants began to leach away.

Motecha fought to preserve his anger. ‘Creature!’ he cried. ‘Cease your …’ But speech died in his throat. Against his will, his contorted face relaxed.

The cho-ja magician chided gently, ‘Magician, your fury clouds reason. Let peace ever be my gift to you.’

Akani studied the magnificently marked carapace, veiled now in a translucence of folded wings. His shoulders relaxed and settled. ‘Although I revere our tradition,’ he admitted, his regard encompassing his fellows, ‘I also recognise what I sense in these emissaries from Chakaha. Look well and deeply. They bring us something … rare.’ To Motecha he added, ‘Their presence is not an offense. We are fools to cling mindlessly to tradition and not explore the wonders we are offered.’

Hochopepa pushed to the fore. ‘Yes, I feel this, too.’ He sighed. ‘I know both … wonderment and’ – the admission came with difficulty – ‘shame.’

Mara broke the stillness, ‘Can any Great One deny that nothing of hate or anger motivates this act of kindness?’

Hochopepa allowed the wave of calmness to envelop him wholly. He smiled. ‘No.’ Then his pragmatism reasserted as he said, ‘First, your son’s ascension to the Throne of Heaven may be proper according to law. But your transgressions are … unprecedented, Good Servant. We may never be moved to forgiveness, Lady Mara.’

Muted muttering resumed among some of the Lords in the hall, but no open opposition arose. Motecha added,
‘The Assembly’s course is clear. We cannot accept as Justin’s regent a ruler who has defied us. The precedent is dangerous. We are outside the law for valid reasons.’ As he calmly studied Mara, all anger gentled from him by the workings of cho-ja magic, Motecha’s clear reason stirred agreement among his colleagues. ‘I have accepted Justin’s coronation, but that does not free Lady Mara of responsibility for her disobedience. When she opposed us, she repudiated the law!’ Across the space before the imperial dais, he locked gazes with Mara. ‘You dishonor your rank and heritage if you shelter behind alien magic, Lady of the Acoma! You must reject cho-ja protection and voluntarily embrace your due punishment. Justice must be served.’

‘Indeed,’ said Mara softly. Her shoulders stayed straight only out of habit. She had no more ploys left; she alone was near enough to perceive the fine tremors of exhaustion that played through the cho-ja mages. The calming spell had been called up from reserves that were already exhausted. They had no hidden miracles in them to offer. Too quietly for anyone but those closest to her and the cho-ja to overhear, she said, ‘You did your best. We have won a review of the terms of the great treaty, no matter what becomes of me.’

The mage to her left stroked her wrist with a gentle forelimb. ‘My Lady,’ it intoned in her mind, ‘among our kind your memory will never die.’

Mara forced her chin up. To all who were gathered in the audience hall she said, ‘I once thought to dedicate my life to service in the Temple of Lashima. But fate decreed that I assume the mantle of the Acoma. I will be heard. The gods have given into my care more than my house and my family.’ Her voice strengthened, carrying into the farthest corners of the domed chamber. ‘I have undertaken to change traditions that have shackled us into stagnation. I have seen cruelty, injustice, and the profligate waste of worthy lives. For this
have I set myself up as midwife to a rebirth, without which we as a people will die.’ No one interrupted while she drew breath. ‘You all know of the enemies I have defeated. They have varied in their cunning from base to brilliant.’

She looked from face to face, seeing her appeal touch some of those before her. Motecha and many others simply listened. ‘Our Ruling Lords craved power for honor, for prestige, for the enjoyment of themselves, with no thought for the suffering of subjects under their sway. Our noble families and clans play the Game of the Council for stakes that spill blood to no purpose! To kill me in the name of justice, before my son has achieved manhood and can rule without guidance from a regent, would be to condemn the Nations to stagnation and ruin again. Our Empire will fall, for our flaws. That is the price of my death, Great Ones. That is the epitaph your justice will write on our future. That is the cost our people must pay for your
privilege
of acting outside the law!’

Silence claimed the audience hall while all present pondered the import of Mara’s words. She herself stood rigid, while behind her the priests shuffled in their ranks and whispered among themselves. Pride forbade Mara to look around. She saw the concern on Hokanu’s face. Mara dared not acknowledge his worry for her, not with so much as a glance. To meet her husband’s eyes would be to lose her grip and break down weeping in public.

She stood statue-straight, as a Servant of the Empire and a daughter of the Acoma, and prepared to meet her fate.

The magicians were once more unsettled, the effects of cho-ja magic wearing thin.

‘She’s gone too far now,’ Shimone murmured. ‘No argument can save her, for our Assembly is answerable to no law. This
must
not be misconstrued as a privilege. It is our right!’

Fumita averted his face; Hochopepa looked troubled.

Sevean said, ‘You will die, Lady Mara. Cast off the alliance of your emissaries from Chakaha, or they will perish with you. I say they cannot defend you. When we destroy you, the priests will return to their rightful place in the temple and leave politics to others.’ Indicating the High Priest of Jastur and the Sisters of Sibi, he said, ‘Or let them challenge us if they feel they must. We are still supreme in our arts! Our powers broke the wards over this hall! Perhaps these cho-ja have learned to lie in the lands outside the Empire! I say you attempt to deceive, Lady Mara, and that you have no means of self-defense.’

Motecha looked startled for a moment. Then his expression hardened. He studied the Chakaha magicians and saw they made no gestures to protect Lady Mara. His eyes narrowed as he felt Sevean’s power manifest. Again Motecha raised his hands, and again his magic coalesced into a fiery lash of green light. He muttered a harsh incantation, fierce in his concentration.

This time nothing would stop him and his colleagues from striking down the Good Servant.

The priests seemed distressed. Many of them stepped back, as if trying to set distance between themselves and the Servant of the Empire. Hokanu looked anguished, until his First Adviser, Dogondi, stepped between, shielding his view of Mara’s plight. ‘Don’t look, my Lord,’ he murmured.

Enthroned on the imperial dais, Jehilia gripped Justin’s hand, while the boy stared at his mother with wide, hard eyes that had all the fear scoured out of them. ‘The Great Ones will pay,’ the young Emperor vowed in a monotone. ‘If they kill her, I will see them destroyed!’

Jehilia tugged his hand in anxiety. ‘Hush! They will hear you.’

But the Great Ones had no attention to spare for the children who sat on the thrones of power. As a body, they banded together, conjoining their powers with Motecha’s
spell. Only three remained apart, as the incantation for the death spell neared its climax: Hochopepa, looking miserable; Shimone, his stern face twisted with regret; and Fumita, who could not entirely release his ties to family and contribute in killing a woman who would have been his daughter-in-law.

Mara stood straight on the polished stone floor below the imperial dais. At her sides, the Chakaha mages crouched now with furled wings. Behind her stood the High Priest of Turakamu, leathery and old, but erect under his trappings of office. He laid a thin hand on her shoulder, as if in comfort to one who would shortly be greeting his divine master, just as Motecha flung out his arms.