Mistress of the Empire (91 page)

Mara’s hand went to her mouth, as if to prevent words from escaping unbidden. That smallest motion from her caused a shiver to chase over Kevin’s flesh. His eyes – so much bluer than she recalled – turned toward her. His smile warred with a frown on his familiar face that the years had changed little, after all. ‘I expected I might find you here,’ he said in husky, pent-back emotion that only those atop the dais could hear. ‘Who else in these Nations could fit the title “Mistress of the Empire?” But this, your Light of Heaven.’ His large, capable hand indicated Justin, and his eyes brightened to a knifepoint of intensity – ‘Lady, why ever didn’t you tell me?’

The pair who had once been lovers might have been alone in that vast hall.

Mara swallowed. Too clearly she recalled their last parting: this man in the street, scuffed and half-beaten, as he resisted the slave handlers who had acted on her orders to send him by force back to his homeworld.

She had lacked the capacity for speech then. Now words came to her in a rush. ‘I didn’t dare tell you. A son would have kept you this side of the rift, and that would have
been a crime against all that you taught me to profess. You would never have married, never have lived for yourself. Justin has been raised knowing who his father was. Are you angry with me?’

‘Justin,’ Kevin repeated, trying the name out on his tongue. ‘After my father?’ As Mara gave back a timid nod, he shot a glance that glowed at the boy who sat straight on the golden throne. Then he shivered again. ‘Angry?’

Mara flinched. He always had spoken at inopportune moments, in a tone that rang too loud.

He looked at her, quieting his voice, though his inflection was no less harsh. ‘Yes, I am angry. I’ve been robbed. I’d have liked to watch my boy grow.’

Mara blushed. He had lost none of his ability to throw her off balance. Forgetting to show demure Tsurani poise, she defended herself. ‘You would never have had any other children had I done so.’

Kevin slapped his hand against his knee. While still low, his rejoinder was starting to carry to those standing at the bottom of the dais. ‘Lady, what is this talk of children? I have none! I never did marry. I took service in my Prince Arutha’s court – for a dozen years I’ve been fighting goblins and dark elves with the border barons at Highcastle and Northwarden. Then out of nowhere, I’m summoned to Krondor, and told to my chagrin that when the Emperor of Tsuranuanni requested an exchange of ambassadors, I was overqualified for the post – I’m noble born, but beyond any chance of inheritance with older brothers and near a dozen nephews, and I speak fluent Tsurani. So my King commanded – or rather, Prince Arutha appointed on his brother’s behalf – and suddenly I’m a beribboned court baron, bowing like some sort of trained monkey before my own son!’

Here the Midkemian ambassador turned to regard the Emperor. His irritation modulated as he said, ‘He does look
like me, doesn’t he?’ Then he grinned and tossed a wink at Justin. The gaze he turned back to Mara was edged as ice as his merriment faded again. ‘I hope that your husband doesn’t come after me with a sword for this!’ he finished in that tone of dry mocking that could either delight or enrage Mara.

The Mistress of the Empire blinked, realising how little Kevin would know of the past fourteen years. ‘Hokanu fostered the boy, knowing the truth of his conception.’

Now Kevin looked dumbfounded in turn. ‘Didn’t I just see the Lord of the Shinzawai outside, with a child bride, and two babies?’

Mara nodded, past speech.

Never one to be caught speechless, Kevin said, ‘You’re not married?’ Mara could only shake her head no. ‘Yet you had a husband. What Tsurani convolution of traditions is this?’

‘It’s called divorce on grounds of barrenness. Hokanu needed heirs, for the stability of Justin’s reign, and the Good of the Nations. You just observed the result.’ Mara shook off the play of feelings that threatened to knock her dizzy. She was in public, in full view of the court; her image as a Lady and a Tsurani must be laughable at this moment.

Taking his cue from Mara, Arakasi called out, ‘The Day of Appeals is at an end. Let all retire and give thanks for our Light of Heaven.’ Then began a very slow withdrawal, as most of the court nobles lingered, curious to overhear the strange exchange taking place atop the imperial dais. The cadre of Midkemian nobles who had accompanied Kevin exchanged uncertain signals, unsure if they should wait for their leader or withdraw without him.

Mara saw a hundred pairs of eyes turned toward her, to see how she would react next. And then, suddenly, she did not care. She assumed her most dignified, formal posture. ‘Kevin, Baron of the Court, Ambassador of the
Midkemian King of the Isles, I have been remiss in my duties as a mother. I present to you your blood son: Justin, ninety-two times Emperor, and Light of Heaven of Tsuranuanni. I humbly pray he is fair in your sight, and an honor to your family pride.’

The senior imperial herald, eyes wide in astonishment at what he had just heard, glanced at Arakasi for instruction. The Imperial First Adviser shrugged and nodded, and the herald raised his voice to ring out over the assembled Tsurani nobles. ‘Kevin of Rillanon, ambassador of King Lyam, and father of our own Light of Heaven!’

Lady Mara was jolted almost out of her skin by the noise of a resounding cheer from the younger nobles of the court, who were halfway to the great outer doors. They flooded back toward the railing and began stamping and clapping their approval. More than any other thing, that impressed upon Mara how swiftly two short years of changed policies were taking deeper root: for there was but one way for a Midkemian to have become the father of a fourteen-year-old boy: if he had visited the Empire previously as a slave and a prisoner of war.

It had not been long in the past when the idea of a slave’s child becoming Emperor would have been cause for bloody rebellion, a war over insult and honor that had no point beyond an excuse for each Lord who harbored secret ambitions to see his house triumph over his enemies.

But as Mara studied the faces on the floor below, she saw mostly bemusement, surprise, and honest admiration. To all but a narrow-minded few, the Laws of the Great Freedom were already coming to replace the Game of the Council. More sons of nobles sought out imperial duty rather than serving with their family’s forces. It was these young men, breaking free of the traditions of their ancestors, who cheered the loudest.

Once again, Mara had done the unthinkable. Her people
of the Empire were coming to expect that of her, so adept had they grown at taking such turns in their stride.

And then Justin was off his throne, discarding his mantle and headdress into the care of his body servant. He flung himself into the arms of the father he had never known, but whose name had become a legend spoken in awed tones by the older Acoma servants.

Mara looked on, new tears brightening her eyes, until Kevin’s huge arm hooked out and hauled her off her cushion to share in a three-way embrace.

The Lady was startled into laughter. She had forgotten how impulsive he was, and how overwhelmingly strong.

‘Mistress of the Empire,’ he murmured over a redoubled volume of cheers. ‘You are a Lady of surprises! I trust I will have the chance to spend time in the imperial suite, getting to know my son, and renewing old acquaintance with his mother?’

Mara took a deep breath, smelling the odd taint of off-world fur, and strange spices, and velvets that were woven on looms far away, in a colder land that someday she must journey across the rift to visit. Her blood quickened to a beat of passion that all but swept her from her feet. ‘You will have a lifetime to share with your son,’ she murmured to Kevin so that only he could hear. ‘And all the years you could desire in the company of his mother, so long as your King permits.’

Kevin laughed. ‘Lyam’s glad to be rid of me, I think. Things are too quiet on the border for a troublemaker like me.’ Then he pulled her tight against him, for the simple joy of holding her.

The temple gongs rang out over the Holy City at that moment. Sweet music sounded over the Imperial Precinct, as the priests of the Twenty Greater Gods sang their devotions at evening. Officially, the Day of Appeals was at an end.

Kevin drew back and smiled upon the Lady who had never for a day lost her hold upon his heart. ‘You are mistress of far more than this Empire,’ he said, laughing, and the cheers from the Lords of Tsuranuanni did not stop as he led her and his Emperor son, hand in hand, down from the high dais.

In the course of five years, in writing three novels together, we are indebted to the following people without whose contributions the work would have not been as rewarding, for either ourselves or the reader. Our thanks:

To the Friday Nighters, who started it all way back when R.E.F. asked where Midkemia was, thereby making it impossible not to write the story.

To our editors along the way, Adrian Zackheim, Jim Moser, Pat LoBrutto, and Janna Silverstein, for turning us loose.

To Elain Chubb, for continuity and finish.

To so many people at our publishing houses who care more than the job requires and work above and beyond the call of duty, those gone on to other places and those still with us.

To Jonathan Matson for being more than an agent.

To Mike Floerkey for spreading the word and technical suggestions.

And to Kathlyn Starbuck and Don Maitz for putting up with R.E.F. and J.W. respectively while we were impossible to live with for the last six years. The fact we’re still married speaks volumes for your patience and love.

Raymond E. Feist

Janny Wurts

San Diego, CA/Sarasota, FL

June 1991

RAYMOND E. FEIST was born and raised in southern California. He was educated at the University of California, San Diego, where he graduated with honours in Communication Arts. He is the author of nine bestselling and critically acclaimed series:
The Riftwar Saga
,
The Empire Trilogy
(with Janny Wurts),
Krondor’s Sons
,
The Serpentwar Saga
,
The Riftwar Legacy
,
Legends of the Riftwar
,
Conclave of the Shadows
,
Darkwar Saga
,
Demonwar Saga
and
Chaoswar Saga
.

JANNY WURTS is the author of numerous successful fantasy novels, including the acclaimed Cycle of Fire trilogy. She is also co-author, with Raymond E. Feist, of the worldwide bestselling Empire series. Her skill as a horsewoman, offshore sailor and musician is reflected in her novels. She is also a talented artist and illustrates her own covers. Janny lives in Florida, USA.

Her website can be found at: www.paravia.com/JannyWurts

BY RAYMOND E. FEIST AND JANNY WURTS

Daughter of the Empire
Servant of the Empire
Mistress of the Empire

BY RAYMOND E. FEIST

Magician
Silverthorn
A Darkness at Sethanon

Faerie Tale

Prince of the Blood
The King’s Buccaneer

Shadow of a Dark Queen
Rise of a Merchant Prince
Rage of a Demon King
Shards of a Broken Crown

Krondor: The Betrayal
Krondor: The Assassins
Krondor: Tear of the Gods

Talon of the Silver Hawk
King of Foxes
Exile’s Return

Flight of the Nighthawks
Into a Dark Realm
Wrath of a Mad God

Rides a Dread Legion
At the Gates of Darkness

A Kingdom Besieged
A Crown Imperilled

With William R. Fortschen:
Honoured Enemy

With Joel Rosenburg:
Murder in LaMut

With Steve Stirling:
Jimmy the Hand

BY JANNY WURTS

The Cycle of Fire Trilogy:
Stormwarden
Keeper of the Keys
Shadowfane
Sorcerer’s Legacy

Master of Whitestorm
That Way Lies Camelot
To Ride Hell’s Chasm

The Wars of Light and Shadow:
The Curse of the Mistwraith
The Ships of Merior
Warhost of Vastmark
Fugitive Prince
Grand Conspiracy
Peril’s Gate
Traitor’s Knot

Voyager
An imprint of HarperCollins
Publishers
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins
Publishers
1992

Copyright © Raymond E. Feist and Janny Wurts 1992

The Authors asserts the moral right to be identified as the authors of this work

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