Servant of the Empire

by Raymond E. Feist

  Mara lost the heart to control her" sobbing. 'But you can never be free . . . here.'

  'I know. I know.' He brushed damp hair from her cheek and lost his own poise with the touch. His tears fell as freely as hers. The depths had been shared at last, and acknowledged: while they loved each other desperately, there would always be this open wound, as vast as an ocean and as deep as a chasm, and as wide as the rift between worlds.

  Events in the Holy City revolved around the coming peace conference. With only days left before the Emperor's departure, the Ruling Lords of the Empire exchanged heated speculation over what terms had been agreed to in advance; yet even Arakasi's network could glean only sparse information on that subject. Mara spent long hours closeted with her scribes, sending messages to allies and tentatively confirming ties. Occasionally she entertained other Lords whose town houses were located nearer to the inner city and whose households had been inconvenienced by damage.

  Small frustrations and concessions balanced larger ones. The craftsmen were slow in replacing her lost litter; with every carpenter in Kentosani busy fixing broken rooftrees, lintels, and doorframes, not even an apprentice could be borrowed from the work. Jican bargained to no avail. Imperial decree held a freeze on all private contracts until the dockside warehouses were rebuilt. Mara resigned herself to playing host to those she wished to see, until Lord Chipino of the Xacatecas heard of her straits and sent a replacement litter as a gift.

  It was Xacatecas purple and yellow, and well chipped, since a succession of Isashani's daughters had used it for shopping excursions. Jican remedied the matter by delving into the cellars after paint, but there were still no craftsmen to be hired. The task in the end fell to Tamu, a runner slave who had outgrown his post and graduated to formal messenger. But for three days after, young Tamu sat idle because his hands and arms were stained green to the elbow.

  But at least the litter looked passable. Mara made social calls and compared her findings with Arakasi.

  Overtly, the ruling Lords of Tsuranuanni were supportive of the Emperor's intervention; they sent their eldest sons to serve the imperial delegation, and they did not break peace. But beneath compliant manners, each Lord jockeyed for position, and counted enemies, and made compacts. Frustrated in their desire to convene the council, the rulers of all the great houses made covert, alternative plans.

  Mara paid particular attention to the movements of the Minwanabi. Tasaio remained in exile in the remote western islands. But Desio had insinuated another cousin, Jeshurado, into the former Warlord's army as Subcom-mander, which gave Minwanabi an ally in the Emperor's camp. Desio was one of the five Warchiefs who would be in attendance at the conference on Midkemia, along with Andero of the Keda, the Lord of the Xacatecas, and the Lord of the Tonmargu.

  But Clan Oaxatucan named no Omechan Warchief, owing to bitter infighting over who should succeed the seat left vacant by Almecho. His eldest nephew, Decanto, was the obvious choice, but another nephew, Axantucar, had shown unexpectedly strong backing from other members of the clan. Since the most vigorous factions were deadlocked, and many held back from supporting either man, Decanto and Axantucar were forced to cede the privilege to a third cousin, Pimaca, to act as Omechan Warchief for the imperial honour guard.

  Mara's inquiry into the role taken by the Great Ones had drawn no clear answers. But Arakasi did find a relationship between the Assembly of Magicians and the Blue Wheel Party. As Mara watched the water fall in silver streams from the fountains in her courtyard garden, the Spy Master addressed that point, it turns out that the Great One Fumita was once the younger brother to Lord Kamatsu of the Shinzawai, and is Hokanu's true father.'

  Mara showed astonishment. For whenever and wherever arcane talent was discovered, the Assembly took that man for training and broke all ties to family. Children were raised by relatives as if they were their own, their ties to their natural parents 'forgotten'. 'So Hokanu is Kamatsu's adopted son and actually a nephew by blood.' Since his mother had sworn service to the temple of Indiri after her husband's departure, Kamatsu and Kasumi were the only family Hokanu had known since the age of ten.

  'Do you know if Fumita ever visits his son?' she asked of her Spy Master.

  Arakasi shrugged. 'Kamatsu's house is well guarded. Who can know?'

  Recognizing that the continuance of her house would be better served by cultivating Hokanu's interest, Mara was equally curious to ply him for information on the chance that Fumita's commitment to the Assembly might have a weak point: that he might not have entirely put aside family concerns, and had been influential in bringing the Shinzawai and the Kanazawai Clan aid from the magicians.

  But any thought of Hokanu led endlessly back to the thorny hedge of pain concerning Kevin. Mara sighed. In a rare moment of abstraction, she watched the water drops fall and fall, then firmly forced herself to concentrate on more immediate concerns. If she indulged herself in preoccupation with personal troubles, the Acoma would be overwhelmed at the next move of the Great Game.

  The Light of Heaven would depart downriver in four days. If he succeeded in his peace with the Kingdom of the Isles, all houses would be equally disadvantaged. But if the Emperor failed, there must be a call for a new Warlord. Otherwise Ichindar, ninety-one times Emperor of Tsuranuanni, would face open revolt in the council. It had been centuries, but regicide had occurred before in the Empire.

  A short while later, Mara clapped her hands for her runner. 'Tell Jican we shall move our quarters to the apartment in the Imperial Palace this afternoon.'

  'Your will, Lady.' The slave boy bowed and raced off to complete the errand as if happy for the chance to run.

  Jican received the order like an antidote to frustration after days of simply assessing damage. Kevin was set to work lifting carry boxes outside to the waiting needra carts. On the stairs and landing, crates of jigabirds rubbed edges with parchment satchels, and the Lady's coffers of shell centis and centuries. At least the number of warriors had thinned down. One half of the company had relocated to a public barracks in the city. Of the others, fifty would serve as escort to see their mistress across town, of which twenty would return to guard the town house grounds.

  Removed from the bustle, Mara sat in the courtyard with pen in hand, scribbling notes to Keyoke and Nacoya. To ensure other houses could not pry into her affairs, the Lady entrusted Lujan to carry her missive to the fastest bonded guild messenger. 'Add this verbal message to my report,' she instructed. 'I want the bulk of our army ready to march at a moment's notice, and as near to Kentosani as Keyoke thinks prudent. We must stand prepared for any turn of events.'

  Dressed in the plain armour he preferred for the field, Lujan accepted the sealed parchments. 'We prepare for war, my Lady?'

  Mara said, 'Always.'

  Lujan bowed and left without banter. Mara set down her pen and rubbed cramped fingers. She took a deep breath and held it a moment, then let it slowly out, as she had been taught at the temple. Kevin had forced her to see the ways of her people with new eyes; she understood that greed and ambition were masked by tradition, and honour became the justification for endless hatred and blood. The young Emperor might strive to change his people, but the Great Game would not be abolished at a stroke by imperial edict. No matter what she felt, no matter how tired she became, no matter what regret came her way, Mara knew there would always be the struggle. To be Tsurani was to struggle.

  Kevin had thought the great hall was impressive, but the Imperial Palace complex beyond the High Council's meeting place was even more grandiose. Mara's retinue entered portals wide enough to admit three wagons drawn abreast. Behind, doors whose weight required a dozen slaves to shift boomed closed. Sunlight vanished, leaving a dry, wax-scented dimness lit purple-blue by cho-ja globes suspended on ropes from a ceiling over two storeys high. The corridor was immense, with worn flagstone floors, and two levels of galleries rising up on either side. Off these were doorways painted in riotous colours; each led to an apartment assigned to a counci
l member's family, with those closest to the outer walls belonging to the lowest in rank.

  'Forward,' commanded Strike Leader Kenji to the honour guard, his voice a flurry of echoes off a ceiling dim under layers of varnish and dust.

  Kevin marched at mid-column, beside his Lady's litter. Except for the Acoma retinue, the hallway was largely empty. Servants in imperial livery moved briskly from this task to that, but otherwise the enormous complex appeared deserted.

  'Which is the Acoma apartment?' Kevin inquired of the nearest bearer slave.

  The Tsurani returned a look of disgust at Kevin's irrepressible tongue, but out of pride he could not resist giving answer. 'We are not on the first hall, but the seventh.'

  A moment later, Kevin understood the odd reply, when the honour guard turned a corner and he saw a vast intersection ahead, where several other corridors joined in a concourse. 'Gods, this place is huge.' Then he looked up and saw that this section had four tiers of galleries, accessed by wide stone staircases that zigzagged between landings. Yet for all the grandeur, the building seemed empty.

  Then he realized that, unlike the area that housed the council hall, these passages had no mixed companies of guards on duty. 'It's so quiet.'

  Mara peeked out of her litter curtains. 'Everyone is at the docks, bidding the Emperor and his honour company farewell. This is why we hurried here — better chance to enter unobserved. I did not want to risk meeting Imperial Guards right now.'

  They ascended no stairs. The Acoma apartment complex was situated at ground level near a slight bend, and identified by a lacquered green door with a shatra bird seal. The corridor stretched away from the crook for a hundred yards in each direction, with gigantic portals and more intersecting halls at either end. By now Kevin had deduced that the apartments were arrayed in semicircles around the central dome that housed the High Council hall. Set out in blocks, another three hundred or so small complexes turned this section of the palace into a warren of halls and passages.

  Two massive apartment complexes stood adjacent to Mara's, and opposite lay the residence of House Washota, its green and blue doors securely closed. Past the bend, the doorways had yet more majestic decorations, from vaulting arches obscured by sixty-foot-high silken hangings, to carpeted stairs and urns overflowing with flowers. These were the apartments of the Five Great Families, with the smaller gallery complexes above reserved for guests and vassals. The allotment of space was by rank, but barracks room did not vary. Every Lord in the Empire could dwell within the Imperial Palace with a maximum retinue of twelve.

  Yet Mara had brought fully thirty Acoma warriors into the palace precinct. Though technically she flouted a rule to do so, there were no patrols mustered in the corridors. In unstable times she knew full well that other Lords would do likewise, or bring still more warriors if they could manage it.

  At Kenji's discreet tap, the green door opened. Inside, two guards bowed to their mistress and made way for her retinue to enter.

  Jican bowed also, as her litter was set down in the small anteroom. 'The area is safe, Lady,' said the hadonra, and at his shoulder, Lujan gave Mara a slight nod.

  Then the rest of the warriors crowded through the outer door, leaving Kevin barely enough space to raise his Lady from her litter. Judged by the standards of the town house, the apartment seemed spartan. The wooden floors held little beyond old woven carpets and cushions, and an occasional ceramic oil lamp. And then Kevin realized: the heavier furniture had been moved to block all the windows and doors. The apartment was three rooms deep, and the inner chambers opened into a small terrace courtyard. But today the Tsurani passion for breezeways and open doors was sacrificed for safety. Several screens had been nailed shut and backed with heavy wooden barricades.

  'Expecting an attack?' Kevin asked no one in particular.

  'Always,' Mara answered. She looked sad as she reviewed the steps her warriors had taken to secure her family quarters. 'We may not be the only house to realize that now is the perfect time to enter without attracting notice. Imperial Whites will always be on duty in the Imperial Family's complex, but without council-sanctioned guards, this area is now a no-man's-land. We travel these halls and concourses at our own peril.'

  While the bearers began the task of piling Mara's carry boxes against an outside screen, Arakasi arrived, his face drenched in perspiration. He wore the loincloth and sandals of a messenger, and his hair was tied back with a ribbon too dirty for anyone to reliably determine its colour.

  Mara threw off her travelling robe, a look of inquiry on her face. 'You look like a merchant's runner.'

  Arakasi replied, eyes alight with sly humour, 'Runners wearing house colours are being waylaid by everybody.'

  This drew a slight laugh from Mara, who softened at Kevin's blank look and explained. 'Merchants' runners often don house colours, because that discourages street urchins from throwing stones at them. But now a messenger in house colours is apt to be seized for information. Since stone bruises are less to be feared than torture, roles have been reversed.' She asked Arakasi, 'What news?'

  'Strange bands of men move through the shadows. They hide their armour under cloaks and carry no badge of house service. Imperial servants give them a wide berth.'

  'Assassins?' Mara asked, and her eyes held her Spy Master's without shifting as a servant retrieved the robe that trailed from her fingers.

  Arakasi shrugged. 'They could be that, or some Lord's army being smuggled into the city. They might also be agents of the Emperor sent under cover to see who seeks to break the peace. Someone highly placed let slip some information that has caused a stir of talk.'

  Mara sank down onto a nearby cushion and motioned permission for the others to retire.

  But Arakasi declined. 'I won't be staying, except to add that it appears that some of the demands made by the King upon the Emperor are . . . very odd.'

  This piqued Kevin's interest. 'How do you mean?'

  'Reparations.' In spare tones, the Spy Master qualified. 'Lyam demands something on the order of a hundred million centis to compensate his nation for damages.'

  Mara shot straight on her cushions. 'Impossible!'

  Kevin calculated and realized that the Midkemian sovereign was being generous. In Kingdom terms, Lyam was asking for something close to three hundred thousand golden sovereigns, which would barely replace the cost of keeping the Armies of the West in the field for nine years. 'That's half of what he should ask for.'

  'The amount is not the issue, but the concept of paying damages,' Mara said in acute frustration. 'Ichindar cannot do so and keep his honour. It would shame Tsuranuanni before the gods!'

  'Which is why the Light of Heaven refused,' Arakasi cut in. 'Instead, he takes a "gift" of rare gems to the young King, the value of which should approximate a hundred million centis.'

  Appreciative of the Emperor's ingenuity, Mara smiled. 'Not even the High Council can deny his right to give another monarch a gift.'

  'There's this other thing.' Arakasi's dark eyes flicked meaningfully to Kevin. 'Lyam wishes a prisoner exchange.'

  This drew a strange, emotionally weighted look between the barbarian slave and his mistress. With a strange reluctance to her tone, Mara turned back to Arakasi. 'I understand what he asks for, but will Ichindar?'

  Arakasi returned the openhanded shrug of the Tsurani. 'Who can say? Giving slaves to the King of the Isles is not an issue. Lyam could do as he pleased with them. More to the point, what would the Emperor do with our returning war captives?' A silence developed, for it was true that in Tsuranuanni the honour and freedom of such men could never be restored.

  Suddenly tired, Mara studied her feet. The bruises left since her flight from the arena had nearly faded, but emotional wounds between Kevin and herself over issues of slavery and freedom ached still. 'You have word on the Minwanabi?'

  As if he had prompted the change of subject, Arakasi's mouth thinned. 'They ready more than three thousand soldiers for war.'

  Alarmed,
Mara looked up. 'They are coming to the Holy City?'

  'No.' But the Spy Master had only thin reassurance to offer. 'They merely ready themselves upon the Minwanabi estates.'

  Mara's eyes narrowed. 'Why?'

  But it was Lujan who answered, and bitterly, from the doorway, where he paused after appointing his warriors to guard posts by every window and door. 'Desio fears the imperial peace with reason, my Lady. If you abandon conflict with the Minwanabi, you renounce only a commitment to blood feud. Some might judge Acoma honour compromised, but who would fault you for obeying the Light of Heaven? But if the Emperor forces peace among warring houses, Desio forfeits his blood oath to Turakamu. He must destroy us before the Emperor's power becomes too strong to challenge, or offend the Death God.'

  Kevin took the liberty of asking a servant to bring his Lady a cool drink. He could sense her effort at self-control as she asked, 'Would Desio risk attacking the Emperor?'

  Arakasi shook his head. 'Not openly, but should the High Council find cause to unite against Ichindar's will, Desio would have the largest army within striking distance of the Holy City. That offers a dangerous combination.'

  Mara chewed her lip. With the Omechan Clan divided between Decanto and Axantucar, the danger was apparent: Desio could become the new Warlord if a large enough faction of the High Council decided to use force to defy imperial edict.

  Kevin added an unwelcome observation to this reflection. 'Three thousand Minwanabi swords outside the Council Hall could make a persuasive argument even if Desio doesn't have a clear majority.'

  Wrung by more than fatigue, Mara regarded the drink brought in by the servant as if it contained deadly poison. Then she put off dark thoughts. 'The truce meeting beyond the rift won't happen for another three days. Until Ichindar and Lyam fail in negotiations, all is speculation. Now that we are safely within the palace, let us enjoy this quiet time.'

  Arakasi bowed more deeply than usual and, like a wraith, departed. Mara watched the doorway for long minutes after he left, and returned to life only when Kevin settled beside her and gathered her into his arms. Trembling, afraid to voice the uneasiness she felt inside, Mara finished her thought. 'I fear much is carried upon the shoulders of a very young man, and while the gods may favour our Light of Heaven, they also may turn away from him.'