The Complete Empire Trilogy (121 page)

‘The Xacatecas would be a difficult line to eradicate,’ Kevin summed up.

Hoppara sighed in appreciation. ‘Too many babies and cousins with hundreds of offshoots, and every one but a moment away from being recognized as heir to Mother’s office, if need be. My mother stays safely upon our estates, deputizing me to come here and conduct the business of the council.’ He gestured in the direction of the great hall. ‘Most of our rivals don’t realize I am not Ruling Lord yet. And they won’t be given cause to pose the question, since I have full authority from my mother to negotiate on behalf of House Xacatecas … within limits.’

Mara’s mind raced along as she examined the implications. ‘Then we know for a fact what few will guess: you did not come to council to claim the office of Warlord.’

‘Even had Father lived, he would be no higher than third among those who claim the white and gold,’ Hoppara said.

‘Who stands higher?’ Now, at long last, Mara found her appetite.

Hoppara shrugged. ‘I can only repeat my mother’s view. Minwanabi has the most power, but the vote won’t give him a clear majority. Should the Oaxatucan cease their internal bickering, an Omechan could succeed their former Warchief. They still wield impressive influence. The Kanazawai are in disgrace because of the failed peace plans, so even the Tonmargu rank higher than the Keda.’ He shrugged again, then concluded, ‘Minwanabi is the logical choice. Tasaio is a more than able general. Many will back him who wouldn’t have supported Desio.’

The meats suddenly lost their savour. Mara abandoned
her plate. ‘We come to the crux of the matter. What are you proposing beyond alliance?’

Hoppara also put down his eating knife. ‘For all our vaunted power, the Xacatecas are presently disadvantaged. We lost two advisers in the company with my father, and we are short on reliable guidance. I have been instructed to follow your lead, unless your wits should fail you. Otherwise, I am to throw our support to Tasaio.’

Kevin said, ‘You’d support that murderer? After his treasonous manipulations in Tsubar?’

Mara put up a hand, silencing him. ‘That is logical. Once Minwanabi wore the white and gold, the Xacatecas would be free from the immediate worry of attack from the other four great families.’

‘We would have time to muster our defences while Tasaio was occupied destroying the Acoma.’ Hoppara’s tone was matter-of-fact. ‘However,’ he hastened to add, ‘it is only a choice of last resort. While safest for the Xacatecas in the short run, an Empire under the dictates of a Minwanabi Warlord …’ His voice trailed off in distaste.

Kevin voiced his puzzlement. ‘Damned if I understand that logic’

Hoppara’s eyebrows rose. ‘I would have thought …’ To Mara he said, ‘Have you not explained?’

As if the sunlight through the screen had suddenly lost its warmth, Mara sighed. ‘Only the roots of our current strife: the death of my father and brother.’

A li bird chirped, muffled, from the adjoining chamber. ‘Please cover the cages,’ Hoppara instructed a servant. He looked at his guest. ‘If I may?’ At Mara’s nod, he turned, troubled, to Kevin. ‘The Minwanabi are … strange. Inappropriate though it may be to pass judgment upon another noble family whose behaviour remains honourable in public, there is something in the Minwanabi nature that makes them … more than merely dangerous.’

Kevin returned a look of flat confusion. ‘Any mighty house is dangerous. And to my view, the Game of the Council is just treachery with protocols.’

If Hoppara was shocked by the slave’s outspokenness, he masked it well. Patiently he sought to elaborate. ‘You are here more because of Lady Mara’s potential to be a threat than her not inconsequential charm.’ He bowed slightly as he said this. ‘But the Minwanabi are more than dangerous…. They are –’

Mara interrupted. ‘They are insane.’

Hoppara held up his hand. ‘That is harsh. Understandable, in your case, but still harsh.’ To Kevin he added, ‘Let us say they have tastes that are considered unwholesome by many.’

Kevin grinned, his eyes very innocent and blue. ‘You mean they’re bent.’

Hoppara said, ‘Bent?’ Then he laughed. ‘I like that. Yes, they are bent.’

‘The Minwanabi enjoy pain.’ Mara’s gaze fixed on some inward image less pleasant than Isashani’s lavender sitting room. ‘Sometimes their own, always others’. They kill for pleasure, slowly. Past Minwanabi lords are known to have hunted captives like wild animals. They have tortured prisoners and hired poets to compose verse in praise of their victims’ agonies. Some have a sickness in them, becoming … aroused at the sight and smell of blood.’

Hoppara waved for servants to remove the dishes and bring wine. ‘Some Minwanabi hide it better than others, but they all have this … bent appetite for suffering. Sooner or later it emerges. Jingu was obvious in his vices. Several of his concubines were murdered in his bed, and his first wife was strangled while he took her, rumour claims. Desio was held to be less violent, but even the street beggars know he beat his slave girls. Did you never wonder, with all the Minwanabi wealth and power, why noble Lords were not
anxious to petition a marriage for their daughters?’ He let the question go unanswered. ‘Tasaio is … more guarded. I’ve served with him in the field and seen him raping captive women like a common soldier. He also makes rounds through the healers’ tent, lingering there not to bring comfort to his wounded soldiers but to savour their pain.’

His attention returning to the crystal as his servant poured the wine, Hoppara repressed a grimace. ‘Tasaio is not a man I would wish to see upon the Warlord’s throne.’

‘He is very bent,’ observed Kevin.

‘And very dangerous,’ Hoppara summed up. He lifted his wine, waited for Mara to taste her own, then drained his goblet freely. ‘This is why I must either covertly block Tasaio’s bid for the white and gold, or openly support him, gaining his favour.’

Mara set down her glass, her eyes veiled by lowered lashes as she weighed available options. ‘So, you ask that I contrive a way for you to support someone else, a candidate who would not stand at odds with your covert alliance with the Acoma, lest the wrath of the Minwanabi be brought down upon House Xacatecas.’

Hoppara nodded in obvious relief. ‘That would be the preferable choice.’

Mara rose and waved the young man back as he moved to get to his feet. ‘Your father was never formal with me in private, and I prefer to keep the custom.’ As Lujan assembled her honour guard by the outer doorway, she guardedly said, ‘I will consult with my advisers and keep you apprised, Lord Hoppara. But understand that should I be able to save you and protect your house, you will be required to support me in another matter.’

The boy nodded, silent, and motioned his hovering servants not to pour more wine.

Mara bowed slightly and departed toward the door.

Kevin lingered behind, his eyes on the pretty garden
courtyard. The wall and the Emperor’s barracks were set back a good fifty yards from the screen. Mara’s Force Commander had not relaxed one instant throughout the hour’s discussion. ‘One piece of free advice,’ Kevin said to the Lord of the Xacatecas. ‘Double your guards, and start turning this apartment into a fortress. Three or four Lords have been murdered in their beds already, and unless Imperial Whites have wings, they won’t get over that back wall in any kind of time to help you.’

As Kevin hurried to overtake Mara and her warriors at the doorway, the young Lord of the Xacatecas called his Force Commander to attend him. The Acoma party left the apartment, while Hoppara’s voice rose in steel-voiced command that could have been an echo of Chipino’s. ‘I don’t care if there’s nothing to use but purple pillows and birdcages! Just seal these godsforsaken windows and barricade every screen. That barbarian’s ideas saved my father’s life once in Tsubar, and I have a mind to heed his warning!’

A servant, embarrassed by this outburst, hurried the outer door closed, and Mara smiled at her Midkemian slave. ‘Hoppara is a very likeable young man. I hope he survives to assume his family mantle.’

‘I hope we all survive,’ Kevin said sourly as a companionable shove from Lujan jostled him into place. ‘This jockeying to choose a new Warlord definitely gives me a stomachache.’

The council ended.

Long shadows streaked the courtyard between concourses as Mara and her retinue chose an alternative route back to her apartment. Though the meeting itself had gone quietly, the charged air of tension left even the strongest Lords cautious. Tecuma of the Anasati had not objected to Mara’s suggestion that they join their honour guards together for their return to their quarters. With Clan Ionani vaulted into unanticipated prominence, whether he wished it or not, the young Lord of the Tonmargu was seen as being in contention for the white and gold, and Tecuma was vital for any support the Ionani wished to give their favourite son. Any who wished to throw the Ionani into disarray could not find a quicker means than killing Tecuma of the Anasati.

Times were uncertain for all. Tecuma gave no nod of farewell as he and his warriors branched off to his red-painted entry. He gave no sign that Mara had been with him at all, lest the wrong eyes see and presume a warmer relation between his house and the Acoma.

Bone-tired, Mara marched on to her apartment. After Xacatecas’ airy sitting room, and the enormous, vaulted Council Hall, the inside of her own quarters seemed stuffy and cramped. Mara settled wearily in the central chamber and was immediately approached by Jican, who offered a note left by Arakasi.

Mara broke the seal and read. An immediate frown creased her face. ‘Tell Lujan to keep his armour on,’ she called, then sent a servant for her pens and writing desk.

Kevin settled resignedly into his accustomed corner. He watched his mistress write two hasty messages. She handed them to her Force Commander for delivery with quick last-minute instructions. ‘Tell the Lords in question that we have no further details. If they feel unable to protect themselves, have them join us straight away.’

‘What was that?’ Kevin asked over the rattle of men donning armour as Lujan selected an escort from the ranks of off-duty warriors.

Mara passed her soiled nib to a servant and sighed. ‘One of Arakasi’s agents overheard a band of men who were hiding in the imperial gardens. One of them carelessly mentioned names and revealed that they were sent to attack the suites of two Lords who happen to be Inrodaka’s enemies. Since any who hinder that faction are potential allies to our cause, I deemed it wise to send warning.’ She tapped her chin with the note. ‘I suspect this means that Inrodaka and his gang will support Tasaio.’

The single maid in residence entered. At a nod from her mistress, she began to unpin Mara’s elaborately high-piled hair and remove her necklaces of carved jade and amber. The Lady endured with closed eyes. ‘I just wish we had some clear indication of our own danger.’

Kevin loosened his Tsurani-style slave robe and, from a pocket that by rights should not have been there, removed what looked like a meat knife. He turned the blade toward the lamp, inspecting the edge for flaws, saying, ‘We’re ready. Should it matter when they come?’

Mara opened her eyes. ‘Did you steal that from the pantry? It is death for you to have a weapon.’

‘It is death for a slave to have opinions, and you haven’t hanged me yet.’ Kevin looked at her. ‘If we’re attacked tonight, I’m not going to stand by and watch you killed because you think meek behaviour is going to gain me a
better station in my next life. I’m going to slice some throats.’ He said the last without humour.

Mara felt too spent to argue. Jican would know the knife was missing; if her hadonra had not seen fit to report the theft, inquiry would be met with shrugs and blank looks unless she were to pose a direct question. The hadonra and her Midkemian slave had evolved a complex relationship over the years. Between them, most issues were cause for unending bickering, but in the select few areas they agreed upon, it was as if a blood oath held them together.

Near midnight, a knock sounded on the outer door of the Acoma apartment. ‘Who passes?’ called the guard on duty.

‘Zanwai!’

Roused from a half-doze where she lay in Kevin’s arms, Mara ordered urgently, ‘Open the door!’

She clapped for her maid to bring an overrobe, then motioned for Kevin to assume a position of more propriety, while her warriors lifted down the heavy bar and slid back the tabletop pressed into service as siege shutter. The portal opened into a dark, lampless corridor and admitted an old man, bleeding from a blow to the head. He was supported by an equally wounded guard, who looked over his shoulder as if expecting pursuit. Lujan hurried the pair into the apartment, then spun to help the guards bolt and bar the door behind them. Mara had a sleeping mat pulled out of the room that served as an officers’ barracks. Her own servants relieved the injured warrior of his master’s weight and made the old Lord comfortable with pillows.

Strike Leader Kenji arrived with a satchel of remedies, and it was he who washed and dressed the old man’s head wound, while another of Mara’s warriors helped the soldier out of his armour. His cuts also were tended, the deepest ones spread with salve and tightly bound. None were life-threatening.
Mara sent her servant to bring wine, then inquired what had befallen.

Still pale from shock and pain, the old man fixed eyes of startling blue upon his hostess. ‘An inopportune fate, my Lady. I dined late this night with my cousin, Decanto of the Omechan, in celebration of my support for his claim to the white and gold. As I was making ready to depart, his apartment was overwhelmed by soldiers wearing unmarked, black armour. Lord Decanto was the target of their attack. I just happened to be in the way. Decanto was still fighting when we escaped.’