Mistress of the Empire

by Raymond E. Feist

  Pug held up his hand. 'No, tea is fine. I'm startled to find it here.' Then his eyes narrowed as he added, 'Though by all reports, little to do with the Lady of the Acoma should be surprising.'

  Infused with sudden uneasiness, particularly that he should be acquainted with her affairs across the rift, Mara drew breath to demur. 'Great One —'

  Pug interrupted. 'Please. I renounced that title when it was offered, at the time the Assembly asked to reinstate me.' At Saric's startled lift of brows, the Midkemian magician nodded. 'Yes. They retracted my order of exile, after the conflict with the Enemy that came to threaten both our worlds. I am now also a Prince, by adoption into the royal family. But I prefer Pug, magician of Stardock, to any other title.' He helped himself to more tea, then loosened his wool collar to ease himself in Kelewan's warmer climate. 'How is Hokanu? I have not seen him since' - a frown knitted his brows - 'since just after the battle of Sethanon.'

  Mara sighed, hiding sadness as she nibbled a bit of fruit from the tray. 'He is well, but contending with some unpleasant rivalries among his cousins since he inherited his father's title.'

  Regret played across Pug's expression as he set down his cup. The jomach lay untasted beneath his hands, which were fine-skinned, the nails impeccably manicured. 'Kamatsu was one of the finest men this land has known. He will be missed. In many ways, I owe him for what I am today.' Then, as if uncomfortable with dark thoughts, Pug grinned. 'Has Hokanu developed the same passion for horses that consumes his brother?'

  Mara shook her head. 'He enjoys them, but not nearly so much as Kasumi did.' Quietly, sadly, she added, 'Or Ayaki.'

  Pug focused on the reference with the open, barbarian sympathy that in Kevin had so often been disconcerting. 'The death of your son was a tragedy, Mara. I have a boy close to his age. He is so bursting with life-' He "broke off, fingering his sleeves in discomfort. 'You have been very brave, to endure such a loss without becoming callous or uncaring.'

  It was uncanny, how much this barbarian magician knew of her affairs and her heart. Mara flashed a glance at Saric, who looked on the verge of comment. She signaled her wish to speak first, before courage forsook her entirely.

  'Pug,' she opened, the familiar address coming awkwardly, 'I sent you that message out of desperation.'

  Pug folded his hands in his cuffs and regarded her, utterly still. 'Perhaps it would be wise to start from the beginning.'

  His eyes were old, as if he had beheld vistas wider than the human mind should encompass, and griefs more terrible than the loss of a single child. For an instant, Mara glimpsed past his mystery, to the powers that coiled within this man whose manner seemed easy as a chatty cousin's. She recalled the black-robed figure that had single-handedly destroyed the Imperial Arena, a gigantic stone edifice that had taken decades to build. Hundreds had died, and thousands had been injured in a fearful explosion of power, all because Milamber, this magician, had objected to the brutality of human combat as a display. Despite his everyday appearance and warm manner, he was a mage of unknowable dimension. Mara shivered sharply, feeling like a girl before the awareness of leashed might that this man seemed to hide so adroitly.

  And yet it must equally be recognised that, alone, Pug had flown in the face of tradition, and had earned himself exile for deeds the Assembly could not countenance. If the Acoma were to gain protection, he was a potential key to knowledge.

  Mara chose to risk all. She dismissed Lujan and her advisers, and when she was alone with the barbarian magician, she spoke freely. She began with the year the death of her father and brother forced her to assume control of her house, and recounted the triumphs and defeats that had followed. She spoke without pause, neglecting her tea and the food on the tray for a long time, finally ending with her confrontation with the Anasati that had brought intervention by the Assembly.

  Pug interrupted with a question. From that point forward, he asked often for clarification of a thought or enumeration of a detail, or probed her to learn the motive behind an action. Mara was impressed at the quality of his memory, for he often asked for more information on something mentioned more than a half hour prior. When Mara mentioned Arakasi's latest findings concerning the lapses of continuity in ancient documents in the Imperial Archives, Pug's questions became yet more pointed.

  'Why did you wish my help in these matters?' he asked at last, his tone deceptively mild.

  Mara knew nothing would suffice but total honesty. 'It has become apparent that the Assembly might oppose me, not to keep peace, but to arrest change within the Empire. Great Ones have been reining the nations back from growth for more than a thousand years, if my advisers and my Spy Master's assessments are correct.' Although she might be judged and destroyed for the boldness of her accusation, Mara shed her uncertainties. If she backed away from this chance to gain knowledge, the Acoma were lost anyway. She forced herself to frame in clear words what had become a lifetime's dedication since Ayaki's death. 'Your Midkemian ways have shown the time-honored traditions we Tsurani most revere become destructive when they result in stagnation. We have become a cruel people, since the Golden Bridge. Merit has been replaced by elaborate codes of honor, and by a rigid caste system. I would see change, and an end to merciless politics for personal honor. I would see our Lords become accountable for their actions, and our slaves set free. But I suspect the Assembly would prevent even the Light of Heaven enacting such shifts in policy.'

  Mara looked up to find Pug staring into his empty teacup. Late sunlight slashed the wooden floors, and the cheeses had half melted on the food tray. Hours had passed, all unnoticed. Ruefully Mara realised that the Midkemian magician's questioning had not only caused her to reveal more than she had planned, but also had crystallised her thinking, ordered her mind and delineated exactly which problems lay ahead of her. More in awe of the barbarian magician than before, since she had not noticed his molding of her thoughts, Mara clenched her hands together. In a fever of anxiety, she awaited his terrible judgment, or the gift of his understanding.

  For a while nothing moved in the great hall but the war banners stirred by the breeze. At last Pug broke his silence.

  'Much in what you say puts me in mind of things I have felt . . . things I have done.'

  Nervously Mara said, 'I don't follow.'

  Pug smiled. 'Let us simplify by saying that the Assembly is filled with disagreement. From without, the society of magicians might seem a monolithic entity, a body that occasionally intervenes in the affairs of the Empire, but habitually keeps itself separate.' He gestured widely as folk from his culture were wont to do. 'That is far from the case. Each Great One may act as he sees fit, upon any occasion, for his training is predicated upon serving the Empire.'

  Mara nodded.

  Pug's gaze caught hers, dark with an irony that might have been amusement had the topic been less grave. 'However, there are times when two magicians may have radically different views of how best to serve. On rare occasions, disagreements give rise to conflict.'

  Mara dared a supposition. 'Then some of the Great Ones may not sanction the intervention in my war against the Anasati?'

  'They would be the minority,' Pug allowed. Perhaps his own memories of exile from the Assembly came to mind, for he seemed to weigh Mara's eagerness. 'I am also sure that others argued that your death would solve the matter quickly.' Deliberately careful in his wording, he neither confirmed nor denied her speculations concerning the Assembly's hold over the Empire's development; in bald fact, he had told her little that Fumita had not already hinted to Hokanu at Kamatsu's death rites.

  Mara restrained her frustration as Pug rose, plainly with intent to end the interview. Desperate not to lose her hope of aid, she blurted, 'I wrote you on the chance you might know how I may defend myself against the Assembly if the need arises.'

  'I thought as much.' Suddenly hard as barbarian iron, Pug laced his hands together under his wide sleeves and regarded her as she, too, arose to her feet. 'Walk with me to the pattern.'
<
br />   Mara waved back the servants who closed in to collect the food tray, and the two warriors who moved from their positions by the outer door, to accompany her as escort. Aware that Pug could depart from any place in her house, she surmised that his request stemmed from a wish for privacy. As she led from the great hall into the dimmer inner corridor, Pug drew her to his side with a touch upon her arm. 'Why should you have concern for your safety, Mara of the Acoma?' Softly he added, 'If you were a good child who ceased troubling your parents, you would have nothing to fear by way of punishment.'

  In better times, Mara might have smiled at the image. 'The last agent I sent into the Imperial Archives to research significant financial discrepancies in certain historical periods was destroyed outright by the Assembly.'

  As if Pug had been born knowing the halls of a strange house, he turned up the steps toward the pattern room.

  'Knowledge can be a dangerous thing, Mara of the Acoma.'

  He did not ask which years her agent had inquired into, or what findings he had unearthed; his silence on those points only underscored Mara's fears. She stepped into the pattern room at the magician's side. Pug turned and closed the door. She did not see the pass he made with his hands, but her flesh felt chilled as if a cold wind blew across her, and she knew that a spell had been invoked. Pug straightened, his expression grave. 'For a few minutes, no one, not even the most gifted of my former brethren, can hear what you say.'

  Mara's face drained of color. 'Great Ones could listen to what passed in my great hall?'

  Pug smiled in quick reassurance. 'Most likely it never occurred to any of them to try - it's considered a breach of proper behavior. Though I can't guarantee that much for Hochopepa if the matter is weighty enough. He's a bit of a snoop.' The last was said with affection, and Mara realised that the portly magician must have been one of Pug's friends and supporters, after the upheaval in the Imperial Arena. As much as any Black Robe could be, this Hochopepa might be sympathetic to the Acoma cause.

  Pug's next question caught her back from speculative thought. 'Mara, you realise that the changes you work for will turn the Empire upon its collective ear?'

  Tired to her bones from the strain, Mara leaned back against the wood-paneled walls and regarded the shatra bird symbol inset into the floor. 'Should we continue as we have, and be ruled by men who murder children, and let good people become beaten down and ruined by servitude when their talents and efforts deserve better? Jiro of the Anasati and the faction he leads would see petty power struggles take precedence over all else. It is heresy for me to say so, but I no longer can believe that the gods endorse such waste.'

  Pug made a deprecating gesture. 'Then why concern the Assembly? Have an assassin dispose of Jiro. You certainly have wealth enough to buy his death.'

  The ordinary callousness of his statement at last disarmed her. Mara forgot he was a magician, forgot his terrible powers, forgot all but her own bitter anguish. 'Gods, don't speak to me of assassins! I destroyed the Hamoi Tong because they were too readily available as a weapon for grasping Ruling Lords to further their own selfish causes. The Acoma have never dealt with assassins! I will see my line dead and lost to memory before I begin such practice. Seven times have I been marked for death. Three times the lives of my loved ones have been sent to Turakamu's halls by the tong in my place. I have lost two sons and the mother of my heart to its bloody hands.' Then, reawakened to awareness of whom she addressed, she finished, 'There is more to this than my hatred of assassins. Jiro's death might settle honor, but that ends nothing, solves nothing. The Assembly would still seek to ruin my house. Because Ichindar, and Hokanu, and I myself as Servant of the Empire, all seek to replace what is missing from our lives.'

  'Missing?' Pug prompted as he folded his arms across his chest.

  'Within us. Within the Empire.'

  'Go on.'

  Mara looked deep into Pug's eyes. 'Do you know Kevin of Zun?'

  Pug nodded. 'Not well. I first met him here -'

  'When?' Disrupted utterly from her train of thought, Mara's eyes widened in disbelief. 'You never called upon me. Surely I would have remembered such a momentous event!'

  Pug regarded her with bitter humor. 'I was of a somewhat lower station at that time, being one of Master Hokanu's slaves. Kevin and I exchanged only a few words. But I have seen him once since his return to the Prince's court in Krondor, in a reception for the border barons.'

  Mara repressed a wild leap of the heart. In a tight whisper she asked, 'Is he well?' Her eyes pleaded.

  Pug nodded, aware of the deeper emotions behind that simple question. In answer to a need her pride would never acknowledge, he volunteered, 'Kevin has made a name for himself in the service of Prince Arutha. Third sons of minor nobles need to find their way by their wits. From what I have heard and seen, he does well indeed. He serves in the north of the Kingdom, with Baron Highcastle, and has advanced in rank several times, I believe.'

  Mara's voice fell and her eyes lowered as she softly said, 'Has he wed?'

  'I do not know, I'm sorry to say. Stardock is far from court, and detailed news does not always reach us.' When Mara raised her gaze, Pug observed, 'Though I'm unsure which answer would please you most, yes or no.'

  Mara loosed a rueful laugh. 'I do not know either.'

  Golden light seeped under the door as a servant lit lamps in the hallway; dusk lent purple shadows to the closed confines of the pattern room. Suddenly reawakened to the passage of time, Pug said briskly, 'I must go.' He forestalled Mara's second attempt to delay him, saying, 'I have no gift for you of magic or wisdom, Lady. I am not of the Assembly, but even still, the oaths I swore when I was admitted to its brotherhood bind my mind, if not my heart. Even with my powers, some training is difficult to disobey. I cannot aid you in your struggle. But I can offer this. You are wise to seek counsel outside the Empire, for you will find few allies within.'

  Mara's eyes narrowed as she realised that he knew of her secret preparations to journey over the borders; but how he had found out, or what made him able to read beyond what she had taken pains to conceal as a pilgrimage, she could not guess. 'So it's true the cho-ja may not aid me.'

  Pug's face split into a grin. He moved away from her side, almost boyish in his delight. 'You are further along in unraveling the great mystery than I would have thought.' His expression returned to a neutral mask as he finished, 'Those within the Empire who might wish to be your allies are prevented. No, you must seek outside the Nations.'

  'Where?' Mara pressed. 'The Kingdom of the Isles?' But at once she knew the lead she suggested was a false hope. Already, she spoke with the most powerful man from beyond the rift.

  Pug stretched his arms out, letting the sleeves of his brown robe fall away. Obliquely he said, 'Did you know my wife was Thuril? Interesting place, the highlands. You should visit them sometime. Give my regards to your husband.'

  With no further word, he raised his hands above his head and vanished. The inrush of air into the space he had occupied filled the silence, while the chamber dimmed into the darkness of coming night.

  Mara sighed and opened the door. Blinking against the sudden dazzle of lamplight, she saw Saric and Lujan awaiting her. To her adviser and her officer she said, 'Nothing has changed. We begin our pilgrimage tomorrow.'

  Saric's eyes lit with excitement. After a glance to be sure no servants lurked within earshot, he whispered, 'We go beyond Lepala?'

  Mara bit back an answering smile, careful not to show more enthusiasm than a pious journey might warrant; though she, too, was excited and curious at the prospect of crossing the borders into unknown lands. 'By fastest ship. But we must visit the temples before we travel east. If we are to gain by our visit to Thuril, we must be circumspect in our departure.'

  The preparations left to be made before dawn demanded attention, and Lujan and Saric took leave of their mistress to attend them. As they departed, alike in their movements as only blood kin could be, Mara looked after them and sighed. Th
e house seemed empty and quiet without the children. Regretting she had lost her chance to bid them a proper farewell, she moved in the direction of the stair, and her study, where the servants would be bringing her evening meal. First light would not come soon enough to soothe her unsettled nerves. Now that her path was clear, she was anxious to be away.

  She could not surmise what lay in store for her across the border in the lands of a people who had been enemies of the Empire through years of wars and skirmishes. The treaty that bound the current peace was an uneasy one; the highlanders of the confederation were quick to offend and belligerent by nature. But the most powerful magician of two worlds had circumspectly encouraged her exploration. If nothing else, Mara sensed that he, alone of any, fully understood the stakes. More, he knew the terrible scope of the perils she needed to surmount.

  As she moved past bowing servants, toward the comfort of her quarters, she wondered what Pug's appraisal of her chances at success might have been. Then she had second thoughts, and decided she was wise not to have asked. If the barbarian magician had answered at all, his words would surely have taken the heart from her.

  The priest shouted. Echoes reverberated off the massive vaults of the temple ceiling, which towered above carved wooden pillars and buttresses. The assembled circle of red-robed acolytes answered in ritual chant, and a rare metal chime sounded to signal the ending of the morning ceremony. Mara waited quietly in shadow at the rear of the chamber, her honor guard surrounding her, and her First Adviser at her side. Saric looked absorbed in thoughts far removed from religion. His fingers tapped a tattoo on the corcara-shell bosses on his belt, and his hair looked rumpled, as if he had raked his fingers through his bangs in impatience. While none of her warriors disclosed any sign of discomfort, their stiff postures indicated that they were less able to turn their minds to other matters while in the Red God's sacred precinct. Most of them offered inward prayers to the Deities of luck and fortune that their final meeting with the Death God would be long in coming.