Mistress of the Empire (9 page)

The attention of Shimone and Hochopepa intensified as Motecha opened. ‘Is there no end to Lady Mara’s ambition? She has called a Clan War, over a personal insult she delivered, as Lady of the Acoma.’

Hochopepa nodded as if in confirmation of a hunch. ‘So, Motecha has made alliances with the Anasati. Odd. He’s not an original thinker. I wonder who put him up to this?’

Shimone held up his hand. ‘Don’t distract with chatter. I want to hear this.’

Motecha waved a ringed hand, as if inviting rebuttal from his colleagues. But he was not as magnanimous in his equivocation as his gesture suggested, since he rushed on to cut off any interruption. ‘Obviously not. The Good Servant was not satisfied with flouting tradition by co-opting her former enemy’s forces –’

‘Which we conceded was a brilliant move,’ interjected Hochopepa, again just loud enough to make the speaker
stumble. Teloro and Shimone repressed amusement. The stout magician was a master at embarrassing colleagues that he deemed in need of having their pomposity punctured. As Motecha seemed ready to depart from his prepared remarks, Hochopepa added, ‘But please, I didn’t mean to interrupt; pray continue.’

Motecha was nonetheless thrown off stride. He brushed lamely past his hesitation saying, ‘She will crush the Anasati –’

Representing the more seasoned members of the Assembly, Fumita stood. At Hodiku’s nod of acknowledgment he said, ‘Forgive the interruption, Motecha, but an Anasati defeat is neither assured or even likely. Given the well-documented assessment of the forces available to both sides, it is a given Jiro must counteract with a Call to Clan. Alone, Anasati’s war hosts are no match for Lady Mara’s, and she has spoken boldly by raising Clan Hadama. This has already cost her politically. She will lose powerful allies – in fact, two will be forced by blood ties to take the field against her on Jiro’s behalf – and while the Acoma are awesome in wealth and power, the two clans are closely matched.’

Hochopepa grinned openly. Motecha’s thinly veiled attempt to stir the Assembly on behalf of the Anasati was now crushed. Rather than sit down, Fumita continued. ‘There is another issue here, that must be addressed.’

Motecha jerked his chin and conceded the floor in disgust. As he moved away, and no other Great One stood to claim the floor, Hodiku merely waved at Fumita to continue. ‘While matters of honor are deemed inviolate, we must consider: will this clash of clans so weaken the internal structure of the Empire that the stability is set at risk?’

A murmur stirred the Assembly, but no one thrust to the fore to debate the issue. Clan Ionani and Clan Hadama were large factions, yes, but neither commanded enough followers to upset civil order irretrievably. Hochopepa
knew his ally Fumita stalled for time; the underlying concern behind this tactic was wider than the settlement of one House’s personal honor over insult. The worst was already halfway realised: that the conflict of the Anasati and the Acoma would create a polarisation of factions who opposed Ichindar. Disorganised dissenters already rallied behind Jiro’s cause, forming a traditionalist party that could throw serious opposition against the Empire’s new order. Though they were not yet incensed enough to contribute to the bloodshed, were there still a High Council left with power to act, there could be no doubt that if a vote were held at this minute, Lord Jiro would hold enough support to take the Warlordship. There were magicians who had regarded Ichindar’s rise to power as an impious expedient: that the balance should be returned to the time before the Enemy, with the Light of Heaven’s office restored to the old ways. Hochopepa led a small contingent that welcomed change; he paid scant heed to Fumita’s stalling, but instead watched to see where Motecha would gravitate. To his colleague he confided, ‘Ah, there’s the hand behind Jiro’s cause.’

With a slight nod of his head, he indicated the magician Motecha now spoke with, an athletic-looking man just out of youth, unremarkable save for the red hair that showed around the edges of his black cowl. He had thick brows, an expression that approached a scowl, and the carriage of a man who tended to fidget with excess nerves.

‘Tapek,’ Shimone identified. ‘He’s the one who burned up a building while practicing for his mastery. Came into his talents very early, but took a long time to learn restraint.’

Hochopepa’s mild face furrowed in concern. ‘He’s no friend of Jiro’s. I wonder what his stake in this is?’

Shimone gave the barest lift of shoulders, as close as he ever came to the enigmatic Tsurani shrug. ‘His kind gravitates toward trouble, as floating sticks will draw toward a whirlpool.’

On the floor, debate continued. Careful to keep his tone neutral lest someone point out his personal tie to Hokanu and Mara’s House, Fumita offered up his conclusion. ‘I believe that if Clans Ionani and Hadama destroy each other, we shall be faced with both internal and external perils.’ He held one finger aloft. ‘Can any doubt that whoever survives, that house will be so weakened that others will instantly fall upon it?’ He raised a second finger, adding, ‘And can any gainsay that enemies outside our border will take advantage of our internal dissension to strike?’

‘My turn to contribute to the general excess of hot air,’ Hochopepa muttered, and promptly stood. At the cue, Fumita sat with such abruptness that nobody else could rise to his feet in time to prevent Hodiku’s indication that the stout magician had the floor.

Hochopepa coughed to clear his throat. ‘My learned brother makes a strong brief,’ he said, warming up to a virtuoso speech of confusing pomposity. ‘But we must not blind ourselves with rhetoric.’

Shimone’s lips twitched at this half-lie. His fat companion paced heavily to and fro, meeting the eyes of all the magicians in the front rows to draw them to attention. ‘I would like to point out that such clashes before have not spelled the end of civilisation as we know it!’ He nodded for emphasis. ‘And we have no intelligence to indicate that those upon our borders are poised to strike. The Thuril are too busy with trade along our eastern frontier to seek struggle so long as we give them no cause. They can be a hard lot, but profit is bound to seem more attractive to them than bloodletting; at least that seems to be the case since the Alliance for War desisted in their attempt to conquer them.’ A murmur of disapproval disturbed the shadowy hall, for the attempt to annex the Thuril Highlands as a new province had ended in disgrace for the Empire, and it was considered bad form to recall the
defeat. Hochopepa’s scruples did not restrain him from using this point to unbalance his opposition. He simply raised his sonorous voice enough to be heard above the noise. ‘The desert men of Tsubar have sworn binding treaty with the Xacatecas and Acoma on behalf of the Empire, and we have had no resumption of conflict in Dustari.’

That this was in part to Lady Mara’s credit was not lost on the Assembly. A smile spread across Hochopepa’s round face as the tumult died back to respectful stillness. ‘By any measure, the Empire is peaceful to the point of boredom.’ In a dramatic shift, his smile fled before a scowl, and he shook a finger at the gathering. ‘Need I remind my brothers that the Servant of the Empire is counted a member of the Imperial House by adoption? An odd convention, I know, but a tradition.’ He waved to single out Motecha, who had sought to discredit Mara. ‘Should we be so rash as to do anything on behalf of the Anasati, the Emperor could conceivably consider this an attack upon his family. And, more to the point, Elgohar and I witnessed the last Warlord’s execution. At his hanging …’ He paused for effect, and tapped his temple. ‘Let me see if I can recall our Light of Heaven’s exact words upon that occasion of a magician acting in conspiracy with council politics. Oh, yes, he said: “If another Black Robe is ever discovered involved in a plot against my house, the status of Great Ones outside the law will end. Even should I be forced to pit
all the armies of the Empire
against your magic might, even to the utter ruination of the Empire, I will not allow any to challenge the supremacy of the Emperor again. Is that understood?”’

Sweeping a dire glare over the assembly, Hochopepa said, ‘I assure you all, Ichindar was sincere. He is not the sort to threaten violence lightly. Our previous Emperors may have been content to sit by, dividing their time between holy devotions in the temples, and begetting heirs upon
their assorted wives and mistresses’ – he let his voice rise again – ‘but Ichindar is not one! He is a ruler, not some divine puppet wearing the costume of religious office!’

Lowering his voice, forcing every magician present to strain with undivided attention to hear him, Hochopepa summed up. ‘We who attended the Good Servant’s son’s funeral know full well that Mara’s lapse was born of overwhelming grief. Now she must bear up to the consequences of her shame. From the moment she assaulted Jiro with her bare hands, this conflict was inevitable. As our charge is to preserve the Empire, I strongly doubt we can justify pursuing any activity that might find us all’ – shaking the hall with a thunderous bellow – ‘opposing the armies of the Empire in the field over a matter of personal insult!’ Quietly, reasonably, he resumed, ‘We should win, of course, but there would be very little Empire left to preserve after that.’ He ended with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘That was all I had to say.’ And he sat.

Silence lasted only a moment before Tapek shot to his feet. Hodiku granted him a nod, and his robes swirled to his agitated stride as he stalked onto the floor.

His face was pale as he surveyed the gathering silently gripped by reflection. ‘We have heard enough of Lady Mara. The wronged party, I must point out, is Lord Jiro. He did not initiate hostilities.’ Tapek raised his arms. ‘I bid you all to consider direct evidence instead of words for a change!’ He made a sweeping gesture that carved out a frame upon the air. An incantation left his lips, and in the space before him light gathered. A rainbow play of colors resolved into a sharply defined image of a room lined with books and scrolls. There, clad in a robe elegant in its simplicity, paced Lord Jiro in a rare state of agitation. Seated on a cushion in one corner, barely out of the path of his master’s temper, was Chumaka, his leathery face carefully expressionless.

‘How dare the Lady Mara threaten me!’ Jiro ranted in
injured fury. ‘We had nothing to do with the death of her son! The implication that we are a house so honorless as to strike down a boy who shares Anasati blood is preposterous! The evidence planted on that tong assassin is a transparent effort to discredit us, and because of it, we are faced with Clan War!’

Chumaka steepled his fingers, adorned with rings of carved corcara that he had yet to remove since the funeral. ‘Clan Ionani will recognise these wrongs,’ he said in an effort to restore his master to calm. ‘We will not march unsupported to the field of war.’

‘War!’ Jiro whirled, his eyes narrowed with disgust. ‘The Lady is nothing, if not a coward to initiate this call to arms! She thinks to best us without dirtying her hands, using sheer numbers to annihilate us. Well, we must fall back on our wits and teach her a lesson. Clan Ionani may support us; all to the good. But I will never forgive that such a pass has become necessary. If our house emerges from this heavy-handed attack, be sure that the Acoma will have created an enemy to be feared!’

Chumaka licked his teeth. ‘The political arena is stirred to new patterns. There are advantages to be gained, certainly.’

Jiro flung around to face his First Adviser. ‘First, damn the bitch, we have to escape with our hides from what will amount to wholesale slaughter.’

The scene cut off as Tapek clapped his hands and dispersed the spell that had drawn it. He flung back his flame-colored bangs, half sneering at the oldsters in the gathering who had stiffened in affront at his intrusion into the privacy of a noble citizen.

‘You go against tradition!’ cried a palsied voice from a rear bench. ‘What are we, meddling old women, to stoop to using arcane arts to spy? Do we peek into ladies’ dressing chambers!’ His opinion was shared by several
of the greyer-headed members who shot to their feet and stalked out in protest.

Tapek yelled back. ‘That’s a contradiction of ethics! What has Lady Mara made of tradition? She has dared to meddle, I say! Do we wait and pay the price of the instability she may create in the future? What morals will stop her? Has she not demonstrated her lack of self-control in this despicable attack against Lord Jiro?’

At this inflammatory remark, even Shimone looked disturbed. ‘She lost a child to a horrible death!’ he interrupted. ‘She is a woman and a human being. She is bound to have faults.’

Tapek stabbed both hands over his head. ‘An apt point, brother, but my concern is not for the Lady’s shortcomings. She has risen to a dizzying height by anyone’s measure. Her influence has grown too great, and her powers too broad. As Warchief of the Hadama and Lady of the strongest house in the Empire, she is preeminent among the Ruling Lords. And as Servant of the Empire, she holds dangerous sway over the masses. I submit the point that she is only human! And that no Ruling Lord or Lady should be allowed to wield so much influence throughout the Empire! I claim we should curb her excesses now, before the trouble grows too large to contain.’

Hodiku, as First Speaker, stroked his chin at the turn the discussion had taken. In attempt to soothe the uneasiness that stirred through the gathering, he appealed to Hochopepa. ‘I have a question for my learned friend. Hocho, what do you suggest we do?’

Leaning back, making every effort to appear casually unconcerned by resting an elbow upon the riser behind him, Hochopepa said, ‘Do? Why, I thought that should be obvious. We should do nothing. Let these contentious factions have their war. When their slights of honor are
sated with bloodshed, it will be an easy enough matter to pick up the pieces.’