The Complete Empire Trilogy

by Raymond E. Feist

  Even as her bearers bent to set down her litter, Mara pulled aside the curtain and called, ‘Mara of the Acoma!’

  The officer on duty approached and offered a salute. ‘My Lady, what service?’

  ‘Announce to your Lord that I wish to see him, at once!’

  The plumed officer returned a bow of impeccable politeness and strode inside the gates. Despite the early hour, Kamatsu of the Shinzawai was not in bed. Already finished with breakfast, he sent word that Mara be escorted inside, to the comfortable study off his garden.

  In a secluded chamber surrounded by flowers and greenery, Mara found the Lord of the Shinzawai in conference with another figure in the black robe of a magician.

  Caught off guard, Mara hesitated, then bowed low. ‘Great One. I crave pardon for my intrusion.’

  The cowled figure turned. Mara recognized Fumita as enigmatic dark eyes swept across her. ‘You do not interrupt, Mara of the Acoma. You merely find two old men reminiscing.’

  His statement was kindly meant, but even the casual scrutiny of a member of the Assembly was disquieting in Mara’s state of barely contained agitation. ‘I would return later,’ she apologized. ‘But time is limited, and I have need to speak with Lord Kamatsu.’

  The Warchief of Clan Kanazawai waved the Lady toward a sumptuous pile of cushions. ‘Have you eaten, Lady Mara? If not, my servants might bring you refreshment.’

  Mara accepted the seat gratefully, but the thought of any food caused her stomach to feel queasy. ‘A little tesh will be sufficient for my needs.’ As one of the Shinzawai servants departed unobtrusively for the kitchen, she glanced around the room. ‘Where is Hokanu?’

  The elder Lord of the Shinzawai smiled in a warmth of indulgence. ‘He will be distressed to learn that he missed your visit, Lady Mara. But as acting Force Commander of the house, and Subcommander to Lord Keda, he is needed in the hills with the army.’ Sadness touched his expression as he added, ‘Like every clan in the Empire, the Kanazawai make ready for war.’

  Then, presuming she called to learn what had become of her contract of marriage proposal, Kamatsu sighed. As if a weight bore down upon his shoulders, he gestured to his visitor in appeal. ‘Mara, in other, calmer times, nothing would please me better than to bind my house to one as honoured as the Acoma.’ His honesty was genuine as he qualified. ‘Nor could I wish for a daughter-in-law more resourceful than you. But although my first son was not lost, as we first supposed, he will not be returning to rule after me. He has been granted his own title to lands by the King of Isles. As his father, I honour his choice to remain in the land of Midkemia. Hokanu remains my heir.’

  Aware that the older man paused to search for words, Mara tried to relieve him of his discomfort. ‘It was not for the marriage contract that I came here. Please, do not feel obligated to deliver your answer to me in times when other difficulties surround us.’

  Kamatsu returned a warming smile. ‘Your thoughtfulness is appreciated, Lady Mara. I have always understood Hokanu’s reasons for favouring you. In fact, if the choice were simply personal, he would have had me send acceptance on the day your writ arrived. The delay in answering your request was mine alone, since the future of our land is precarious. I’m not certain any of us will be in a position to enjoy weddings after tomorrow.’

  So he also had heard about Tasaio’s call to confront the Emperor. Forgetful of the presence of the Great One who sat motionless as shadow in the corner, Mara regarded the man who was among the most honoured rulers in the Empire. His age lay lightly upon him. The silver hair at his temples made him look distinguished rather than old, and his eyes were kindly with laugh lines. Where Hokanu’s intelligence held an intensity like fire, the father had weathered with years to a quiet, confident wisdom. Intuitively, Mara sensed that this was a ruler to whom she could speak her true mind.

  ‘Hear me out,’ she said earnestly. ‘For what I say is intended for the Good of the Empire.’ With that formal beginning she outlined a plan she had been contriving to set into play since sundown the day before.

  Before the entrance to what had been the High Council section of the palace, Tasaio and his black-and-orange-clad honour guard were halted by a contingent of a dozen Imperial Whites. In full ceremonial regalia, and commanded by a Strike Leader whose golden plumes spread like a fan over his polished helm, they stood in neat ranks across the entrance, barring the way.

  Before Tasaio could speak, the Imperial Strike Leader held up his hand. ‘My Lord of the Minwanabi, you are commanded to present yourself to the Light of Heaven, who awaits your presence within the chamber formerly employed by the High Council.’ The officer motioned, and his warriors stepped smartly aside, allowing Tasaio clear passage.

  Resplendent in his finest suit of armour, and carrying his heirloom family sword in the scabbard at his black-lacquered belt, Tasaio ordered his retinue forward. As they traversed the lofty halls of the council complex, he gave his First Adviser a dry, satisfied smile. ‘Ichindar knows enough to keep the illusion of command, even if the reality of his authority is in question.’

  Incomo gave no reply. Hot in his ceremonial clothing and too breathless from brisk walking for even a pretence of dignity, he barely maintained the correct distance behind his master as he attempted to ascertain what might go wrong during the coming confrontation. As they reached the entry to the council hall, Incomo was caught by surprise as Tasaio stopped suddenly on the threshold of the main portal; the elderly adviser barely avoided a collision. Yanked from his preoccupation over possible disasters, Incomo peered over his master’s shoulder to see what caused the delay.

  The chamber was filled with Ruling Lords, not unexpectedly, since the lowest ranks took their seats first, and as the current most powerful family in the Empire, Tasaio was privileged to assume his place last. That this was no ordinary council stood confirmed by the fact that even the highest tiers of galleries were packed. The least significant Lords in the Empire had seen fit to attend this gathering, surest indicator of a time of crisis. Incomo squinted nearsighted eyes to better make out the central dais. In the dazzle of sunlight from the dome, he made out a figure in shining white overrobes and armour of precious polished gold. Ichindar, ninety-one times Emperor, stood at the top of the central dais. Through the flash of jewels and metal, Incomo took a moment to notice what had changed.

  When he did, the reason behind Tasaio’s precipitous stop became plain: the ivory and gold throne that had seated generations of previous Warlords was no longer in place upon the dais.

  ‘Curse the name of her ancestors,’ Tasaio hissed under his breath. After the absence of the gold and white throne, he had spotted Mara, clad in shimmering green silk, and standing below the dais at the feet of the Light of Heaven.

  ‘My Lord Tasaio,’ addressed Ichindar in the awkward interval while Tasaio was still not recovered from surprise. The Lord of the Minwanabi had plainly intended to enter the chamber and, before the entire High Council and the Emperor himself, presume to mount the dais and take the Warlord’s seat. Mara had arranged to have the chair removed to rob him of such theatrics. As all eyes turned, catching the Minwanabi Lord in his moment of furious embarrassment, the Light of Heaven continued. ‘You sought my attendance at a meeting with the Lords of the Empire. I have come.’

  Tasaio recovered his poise with a reflex as swift as a sword stroke. As if he intended to speak all along from his position in the central doorway, he looked loftily over the hall. ‘Your Majesty, my Lords.’ He glanced at Mara. ‘Lady.’ Entering the chamber to a hushed audience, he slowly descended the stairs. ‘We come to demand an end to this interruption of the traditional course of governance in the Empire.’ Without pause to make a bow he said, ‘Majesty, I say it is time for the High Council to reconvene for the appointment of a new Warlord.’

  Quiet for only a moment as Tasaio reached the wide concourse above the lowest floor, the glittering figure on the dais inclined his head. ‘I agree.’

  Taken aback a second time in
moments, Tasaio stopped. He realized that to descend the stairs further would put him below the Emperor, so he remained where he was, looking at Ichindar at eye level. Yet he hesitated. Of all the answers he had anticipated, this was the last he expected to hear. ‘You agree, Majesty?’

  Ichindar raised his jewelled rod of office. ‘Before this day is ended, we must arrive at a clear consensus. The High Council must ratify my decisions of the last year, or the old order must be re-established.’ He glanced down at Mara. ‘I am in debt to the Lady of Acoma for lending me understanding. I now perceive that a single dictate is not the way to gain support for the changes necessary to ensure our future. If our Empire is to survive, the time has arrived for us all to rethink our needs. Other worlds and cultures are now open to us through the rift gates. In our first experience we have learned to our sorrow that the old ways of conquest and war are poor coin to treat with the peoples of other realms.

  ‘Not only have our former enemies shown themselves to be honourable men,’ continued the Emperor, ‘they have generously kept us apprised of their struggles against the ancient horror known in our history as the Enemy.’ A buzz of talk greeted this, yet Ichindar raised his voice above it. ‘To deal with the Midkemians, and others who may come after them, we need to change our ways.’

  Tasaio cried out in heartfelt appeal to the council Lords. ‘To deal with foreign powers, we must be strong! We suffered shame because Almecho lacked the courage to forge a million swords into one weapon wielded by a single, strong hand!’ Looking in scorn upon the young Emperor in his many layers of finery, then down at the diminutive Lady at his feet, the Lord of the Minwanabi gestured in outright scorn. ‘It is time.’

  Mara returned his hard look without flinching. Before all she said, ‘I gave my vow that I would see no other upon the throne of white and gold before you, Tasaio. Behold, the ivory and gold seat has been removed. By this you will see that I keep my sworn word of honour. No one shall sit upon that throne before you, Tasaio.’

  A murmur swept the packed galleries, and Tasaio’s lips twisted with rage. Yet before he could manage rejoinder, a voice near the front ranks called out. ‘I will let my choice be known.’

  All eyes turned to observe as Jiro of the Anasati arose from his seat and crossed to a point midway between the Emperor on the dais and the figure in orange armour on the stair. After a moment of dramatic confrontation, he moved to stand beside the Lord of the Minwanabi. From there he directed a triumphant sneer at Mara. ‘Lady, this settles an old debt between us. Perhaps my brother’s shade will find rest in the knowledge his murderer has been punished.’

  Mara suddenly felt every hour of missed sleep and the ache of every dashed hope. The error she had made was now past all chance of remedy. Again she had underestimated Jiro’s thirst for revenge and placed too much stock in his ambition. Still, like her father, she faced defeat with a fighting spirit. ‘You think to support Tasaio now,’ she called with a derision that carried to the uppermost tier of the galleries. ‘Is it your intent to catch him weakened after he spends himself destroying me?’

  The conjecture was preposterous, given the current Minwanabi ascendance. Jiro simply smiled and looked at Tasaio. ‘I stand with the new Warlord, for order must be restored to the Empire.’

  The words touched off a wave of motion as a score of Lords joined Jiro’s bid to reestablish the old ways. They rose in a rustle of robes to array themselves behind Tasaio, until the stairway where he stood became packed, and then overflowed into the adjacent ranks of seats. Some Lords were trapped in the press, and no small number lost the spirit to fight against the prevailing surge, to win free of the crowd. Their numbers added to those of the truly dedicated, forming a formidable wedge of support behind the Minwanabi Lord.

  Yet Mara persisted, against reason. ‘My Lord Xacatecas?’

  Hoppara of the Xacatecas stood and crossed to stand with her beneath the Emperor. A score of loyal Clan Xacala nobles joined him, their features grimly determined.

  Lord Iliando of the Bontura came to Mara’s side. Then members of the Clan Kanazawai entered the field, ringing the central dais.

  Still, these gains were rendered impotent at a stroke, as most of the Clan Ionani moved to stand with Tasaio. The few members of the Omechan who had attended divided evenly.

  When all the Lords in attendance had taken sides, the majority backed Tasaio. Lounging at ease against a railing, his expression suavely assured, he turned languid eyes to his enemy. ‘Well, Mara? Is this the best you can do?’

  Less showy, but every bit as commanding in presence, Mara squared her shoulders. ‘Lord Jidu of the Tuscalora, you have sworn allegiance to me.’

  The recalcitrant vassal, who had thought to hide himself to the rear of the Minwanabi faction, shamefacedly removed himself from the stair. Compelled to apologize profusely as he squeezed his corpulent body through the press, he arrived at Mara’s camp red-faced and sweating with embarrassment.

  Mara paid his discomfort no heed. ‘Lord Randala,’ she cried. ‘You have sworn me a vote in council. I now call that debt.’

  A major Lord in Clan Xacala, and a potential rival to the young Lord of the Xacatecas for the office of Warchief, the sandy-haired ruler of the Xosai removed himself from Tasaio’s side of the hall. Two other Xacala Lords abandoned other allies and followed. After them came another man from the upper galleries, armoured in scarlet and brown. ‘Let all know that Tasaio of the Minwanabi used the honourable name of the Hanqu in an attempt to ruin the Acoma. I take offence at such presumption, and cast my lot with the Lady.’

  Accorded unexpected satisfaction from the disastrous past ambush in the glen, Mara advanced onto the lowest stair of the dais. To all present she announced, ‘Never again will a noble of the Empire wear the office of Warlord.’ As a stir threatened to drown out her words, she looked pointedly to five others who stood with her family’s blood enemy. ‘My Lords, all of you have committed one vote of my choosing. I call in the debt at this time.’

  Reluctantly, the rulers in question vacated their chosen position. As they and a trickle of their vassals and allies swelled the crowd gathered behind Mara, others reacted to the shift of power in the room. More and more supporters left Tasaio’s ranks and added to the throng around Mara.

  Tasaio’s features twitched with irritation. In tight tones, he said, ‘You have your stalemate, Mara, and I concede the cleverness that allows you to keep your vow to the letter, without embracing its gist. You’ve gained a few days, at most, so why not end this pretence?’

  ‘I do not play the Great Game this day for personal gain or glory,’ Mara interrupted. ‘For the Good of the Empire, I call on my Lord of the Tonmargu.’

  From the rear of the hall, the second most powerful claimant to the Warlord’s office entered amid an honour guard of twenty. Erect despite his advanced age, he made careful progress down the stairs past Tasaio and came to stand beside Mara. If his body seemed wasted with years, his voice was still powerfully resonant. ‘By the honoured blood of my ancestors, hear my pledge. I act for the Good of the Empire.’ So saying, he mounted the dais and bowed before the dazzling figure of the Emperor. ‘Majesty,’ he intoned, ‘in the best interests of all my people, I surrender my authority to your care.’ He raised the staff that was his badge of office as Warchief of Clan Ionani and handed it up to Ichindar.

  Jiro started forward in rage. ‘You can’t do this!’

  Lord Frasai of the Tonmargu turned up his silvered head in the direction of the young man who had inherited the mantle that had formerly been Tecuma’s. Sadly he said, ‘Son of my kinsman, you are mistaken. Ichindar is of our own blood. Dare you claim that any stands above him in our clan?’

  Red-faced with fury, Jiro looked ready to argue. But a swelling roll of sound drowned his voice as excited talk broke out. Amid the commotion, two more entered the hall, Lord Kamatsu of the Shinzawai, wearing the armour of his ancestors and carrying the staff of Kanazawai, and beside him, Lord Keda, his predecessor, and ano
ther from a line with recognized claim to the Warlord’s office.

  Kamatsu reached Ichindar’s dais and bowed. ‘We speak as one, and act for the Good of the Empire.’ With grand dignity for all his lack of ceremony, he surrendered his staff of office as Warchief of the Kanazawai into the hands of the gold-armoured figure on the dais.

  Over a cresting murmur of surprise, Tasaio shouted, ‘This is a violation of tradition, Kamatsu!’

  The Lord of the Shinzawai called this accusation down in rebuke. ‘My family is as noble as any in the Empire. We can trace our line back to the twenty-fourth Emperor and are related by blood to the Light of Heaven. Tradition says that anyone of clan lineage may hold the office of Warchief.’ He ended on a note of ringing challenge. ‘Dare you deny the blood claim of Ichindar?’

  Mara said, ‘Tasaio, you may be a brilliant commander in war, but your grasp of history is deficient. Has it never occurred to you why only five families have traditionally been allowed to claim the office of Warlord, first noble of the Empire after the Light of Heaven?’

  At a loss, Tasaio returned a Tsurani shrug.

  ‘Those first five houses, including your own, are the most directly related to the Empire’s founders!’ Mara regarded her sworn enemy with contempt. ‘If you had asked, any Master of Lore or the Keeper of the Imperial Archives could tell you. The original High Council was begun by five brothers, all of them siblings of the first Emperor!’ With a sweep of her hand, Mara concluded, ‘We all stem from the same origins, Tasaio. Trace back far enough, and one way or another, all the major families in the great clans are related.’