Mistress of the Empire (88 page)

Lujan made his appearance, looking half stunned with surprise and embarrassment. He wore his best armor, for Mara’s honor, but had never dreamed he would be formally presented at court. He knelt before the new Emperor and the mistress he had long served, who seemed a stranger with the tiara of regent pressed over her mourning headdress of red.

Mara spoke to her Force Commander in words that only the privileged few who occupied the foremost ranks might hear. ‘Saric, Keyoke, and Irrilandi all gave their lives in this,
our greatest victory. You are summoned, Lujan, by your Emperor, to accept reward for your years of praiseworthy service. Let your deeds and your loyalty stand as example to all warriors in the Nations. None living has matched your steadfastness in our service.’

Lujan still seemed stunned as Lady Mara arose and descended from her place of state. She took his hand, bade him rise, and led him down the rail to one side, where two Imperial Whites opened a small gate, and snapped him a crisp salute as the Lady drew him through. Force Commander Lujan, who had commanded armies against the express edict of the Assembly, turned pale with apprehension. He moved carefully, as if the air were too rare to breathe, and the floor under his sandals too highly polished to walk upon.

On the high dais, the Emperor Justin beckoned him onward, upward, to a height of exaltation he had never dreamed.

In the end he hesitated, and Lady Mara had to give him a surreptitious push.

He recovered himself short of a stumble; he, who was swordsman enough never to be caught off balance. He managed somehow to ascend the stair without mishap. At the top, he bowed at Justin’s feet, his green plumes sweeping the carpet.

‘Get up, Lujan.’ The boy was grinning with the same affection he had shown the first time he had touched his teacher with a lunge in training with his wooden sword.

Lujan seemed too stunned to respond. At length the Imperial White with the shadowy face prodded him on with a toe and murmured something nobody else could hear. The Force Commander of the Acoma shot upright as if kicked and looked down on the face of his Emperor.

Justin’s grin took on an insolent edge. ‘The Emperor hereby grants to Lujan, officer of the Acoma, official
patent to commence his own house. Let it be heard by all: this warrior’s children and servants and soldiers shall wear colors of his own designation, and swear upon the natami of House Lujan. The sacred stone awaits its new Lord and master in the Temple of Chochocan. The papers of patent will be given by the hand of the Good Servant, Mara.’ Justin’s happiness threatened to brim over into laughter. ‘You may bow to your Emperor and swear fealty, Lord Lujan of the House of Lujan.’

Lujan, who had never in his life been at a loss for a glib reply, could only gape like a fish. He made his bow, and somehow beat a decorous retreat down the stair. But when at the bottom he found himself confronted by Lady Mara, the eyes that met hers were suspiciously bright at the corners.

‘My Lady,’ Lujan said huskily, disbelief holding him confounded.

Mara inclined her head. ‘My Lord.’ She caught his hand as he started to flinch back at the title, raised it, and placed in his palm three scrolls. Only one was tied off with ribbons of imperial gold. The other two were looped with green, and set with the shatra seal of the Acoma.

Mara smiled. ‘My first recruit, the boldest of the grey warriors ever to swear Acoma service, and my oldest living friend: I do formally release you now from your vows to the Acoma natami, with happiness, as you now go on to serve your own destiny. Today a great house is born. To the title of Ruling Lord that our Light of Heaven has seen fit to bestow, the Acoma add gifts of appreciation.’ She gave Lujan’s hand a squeeze. ‘First, the House of Lujan shall have title to the estates that were mine by right of birth. All lands and livestock on the properties adjacent to Sulan-Qu are henceforward yours to manage and hold for your heirs, with the contemplation glade to be consecrated as setting for your house natami.’

‘My Lady,’ Lujan stammered.

Mara overrode him. ‘My Lord, with this estate, I as Lady of the Acoma grant you the service of five hundred warriors. These shall be made up, first, of all those who swore covenant to you in your band of grey warriors. The rest shall be of your choosing, from among those willing to serve you in the garrison already housed on the Sulan-Qu estate.’

Lujan recovered enough of his rakish poise now to grin. ‘Gods,’ he murmured, ‘wait till the men hear. They started out robbing two needra for a meal, and now they will be officers of my house!’ He chuckled, then shrugged, and might have broken protocol to laugh, when Mara stopped him with a touch to the last scroll in his hand.

‘You are offered a place of honor in Clan Hadama, if you desire it,’ she finished. ‘Were Keyoke alive today, he would say that you learned well. He counted Papewaio as the son of his heart, after my brother Lanokota. You were his youngest son … and at the last, the one of whom he was proudest.’

Lujan felt a poignant moment of loss for the old man who had always treated him fairly, and who had been among the first to recognise and reward his gifts of command. As if in salute to his former officer, he touched the scrolls to his forehead, accepting their contents with a flourish. ‘You are too generous,’ he murmured to Mara. ‘If every needra thief in this Empire realises he might rise so high, you will be the ruler of mayhem.’ Then he turned serious and bowed. ‘In my heart, you shall ever be my mistress, Lady Mara. Let the colors of House Lujan be grey and green: grey in symbolic remembrance of my origin, and green, for my service to Acoma that has led me to this pinnacle of honor.’

‘Grey and green are the colors of House Lujan!’ cried the imperial herald by the dais, that all Lords might hear and take note.

Mara smiled in pleasure at the tribute. ‘Now be off!’ she whispered to her gallant former officer. ‘Keep the promise you made me swear to keep you to in Chakaha. Marry a fine woman, get children, and live to a white old age!’

Lujan snapped off a jaunty salute, spun on his heel, and marched back through the ranks of his peers, while the Imperial White at the Emperor’s right hand murmured softly, ‘I’ll wager he’ll be falling down drunk with celebration within the hour.’

Justin peered up into the familiar face of Arakasi. ‘Don’t sound so smug. Your turn will come in due course.’

Though the Acoma Spy Master tipped his young master a quizzical look, Justin refused to elaborate upon his statement. He looked straight ahead, his young shoulders stiffly square. Not all of the imperial grants made this day would be as pleasurable as Lujan’s patent of Lordship. He nodded to his herald, and the name of Hokanu of the Shinzawai was called across the audience chamber.

Now more than one in the ranks of Ruling Lords exchanged overt glances, many of which hinted at jealousy. Lady Mara had professed to be a fair regent, but now, not a few presumed, she would show her venality by having her husband appointed to some exalted station or office.

Yet if that were true, Hokanu’s face as he approached the imperial dais was fixed in lines hard as rock. He looked neither pleased nor annoyed; only determinedly neutral as he made his bow before the Light of Heaven.

His obeisance was made to Justin; yet his eyes, as he arose, were turned immovably toward Lady Mara. Neither did she appear overjoyed to be the subject of her husband’s scrutiny. Stiffly formal, even more pale than she had been earlier, she stared woodenly ahead as his Imperial Majesty formally made proclamation.

‘Let all present hear and take heed: your Emperor does as he must for the Good of the Empire. It has been duly
noted, according to a ceremony in Juran’s temple yesterday, that the child Kasuma has been dedicated by her father to become the heir to the mantle of the Acoma.’ Justin paused, swallowed, and with a manhood beyond his years forced his voice to steadiness. ‘This has drawn our attention to the Shinzawai, now an heirless house. By Lady Mara’s bequest, for she has been pronounced barren by the priests of Hantukama, she has petitioned for divorce.’ Justin lowered his eyes and regarded his feet in discomfort. ‘As Light of Heaven, for the Good of the Empire, I have seen fit to grant her request.’

Murmurs swept the packed chamber.

Hokanu looked stunned, but he did not change expression. Only his eyes, locked with Mara’s, showed a silent scream of pain.

Justin made a noise behind one wrist that might have been a smothered sniffle. ‘Shinzawai is too great a house, and too important to this Empire, to invite internal strife by remaining heirless. Lord Hokanu is hereby commanded by his Emperor to seek out a bride, and remarry, for the purpose of begetting sound children.’

It was Mara who descended the dais to deliver the divorce papers with their crust of imperial seals. She moved against a shocked silence, and then whispers: for all could plainly see that she loved her Lord. Her sacrifice stilled the petty thoughts of even the most ambitious Ruling Lords. She was not as they had presumed, but a true Servant of the Empire, acting selflessly even where necessity left her wounded.

Former Lady and husband met before the dais. Naked to public regard, they could not fall into each other’s arms and weep. For this, Mara was grateful. Only the pride of her ancestors prevented her from shouting for appeal. Her heart wanted no part of this brutal choice. She yearned only to cast herself at Hokanu’s feet and beg him to plead
for a reversal of the papers Justin had tearfully signed that morning.

She had meant to say nothing, but words burst from her, without restraint. ‘I had to! Dear gods, I love you still, but this was –’ She stopped, reining back tears.

‘It had to be,’ Hokanu grated back, his voice as shaken as hers. ‘The Empire demands all our strength.’

His clear understanding of necessity was a sword that cut, a gift that threatened to undermine all of her resolve. Mara held the scroll with its cruel words and official seals as if it were glued to her flesh.

Gently, Hokanu took the document from her. ‘You will ever be my Lady,’ he murmured. ‘I may breed my sons upon another, but my heart will always be yours.’ His hands were shaking, causing the gold ribbons to flutter and flash in the light. His eyes were hard with distance and pain, and he was recalling the priest of Hantukama, who had once accused him of loving his Lady too much: at the expense of himself, that gentle holy man had rebuked. Bitterly, and only now, Hokanu understood the extent of this truth. Almost, he had allowed his care for Mara to set House Shinzawai in jeopardy.

The Empire could ill afford any weakness, far less one caused by an affection of the heart. Mara was right, hurtful as her petition was to him in this, their hour of triumph. She had recognised the need for this parting; he had unknowingly made her choice the more compelling by his own hard-headedness concerning his disposition of Kasuma.

His course was clear, if sorrowful. He must accept at once, lest courage fail him. For the Good of the Empire, he, too, must make his sacrifice. He reached out with a gentle finger, tipped up Mara’s chin, and forced her eyes to meet his own. ‘Don’t be a stranger, Lady Servant,’ he murmured. ‘You are always welcome to
my company and my counsel, and you will ever be first in my affections.’

Mara swallowed, speechless. As always, Hokanu’s faultless understanding held the power to captivate her heart. She would miss his constant company, and his tender, solicitous presence in her bed. And yet she, too, knew: if she did not force this decision upon him, he would die without a son, heirless. That he should not pass on his gentleness, and his ability to choose right and merciful action when necessary, would be a crime against humanity.

‘I love you,’ she whispered soundlessly.

But he had already bowed and taken his leave, his step as firm as if he marched into battle.

The watching Lords were awed. Hokanu’s courage humbled them; and Mara’s silent pain left them abashed to a man. The Empire was entering a new order, and it appeared that the remarkable couple who had arranged its renaissance were themselves to become a shining example to them all. Men who had greeted such change with resentment were forced to reexamination. They had just witnessed the epitome of honor. To fail to live up to the standards Lady Mara and Lord Hokanu set was to relearn the meaning of shame.

On the golden throne, a boy who had just renounced a beloved father swallowed a lump in his throat. He flashed a glance to his bride, Jehilia, and swallowed again. Then he straightened the shoulders that seemed suddenly weighed down by the drag of the imperial mantle, and waved to his herald.

Next to be summoned was Lady Mara of the Acoma, Servant of the Empire.

She seemed at first not to hear, her eyes fixed upon the empty aisle where Hokanu had lately departed. Then she, too, straightened, and climbed the stair of the high dais, to give her bow to the Light of Heaven.

Justin was through with practiced speeches. He could not bring himself to adhere to the forms he had rehearsed. ‘Mother!’ he called out, a grin curving his impish mouth. ‘To you, who have surpassed every prior Servant of the Empire in service to our Nations …’ Justin paused, and was elbowed in the ribs by Jehilia. He flashed her a surprised glance, and went on, ‘You will accept the regency of our rule until our twenty-fifth birthday.’

Polite applause swept the audience hall, swelling in volume until a cheer erupted, first from the Acoma honor guard, then echoed by the Imperial Whites and the Shinzawai warriors. Then Lord after Ruling Lord surged to their feet and shouted in appreciation of Lady Mara. Justin waved to restore decorum, but order was a long time returning. Into the ripple of reluctantly suppressed admiration he called, ‘To you, Lady Mara, greatest among the Servants of the Empire, we see fit to create a new title.’ Justin rose to his feet, hands upraised. ‘We name Lady Mara,
Mistress of the Empire!
’