Mistress of the Empire (90 page)
Read Mistress of the Empire Online
Authors: Raymond E. Feist,Janny Wurts
Mara tried to smile at his humor. ‘You are the best a woman could wish for in a husband. You gave love without condition. You never held me back from my destiny.’
‘No man could,’ Hokanu admitted wryly. Unspoken behind his words was an anger for the works of Jiro’s assassin: if not for the tong’s ugly poison, he would not be losing the only woman who would ever match him in spirit.
Mara plucked a white flower, and Hokanu gently took it from her. As he had once done before, he wound it in her hair. There were light strands amid the black, now, that matched the hue of the petals.
‘You gave me a beautiful daughter to follow after me,’ Mara said. ‘One day she will have brothers who are your sons.’
Hokanu could only nod. After a long moment of just walking at the Lady’s side, he said, ‘There is a certain elegance in your being succeeded by Kasuma as Ruling Lady.’ His smile was bittersweet. ‘Our daughter. My father would be pleased to know that our children will rule two great houses.’
‘He is,’ announced a voice.
Lord and Lady spun around in surprise. Deep in mystery in his black robes, Fumita offered them both a bow. ‘More than you know … my son.’ The admission of kinship was
not wrung from him, but a glad pronouncement that the changed status of the Assembly now made possible. The magician’s stern face broke into a startlingly brilliant smile. ‘Lady Mara, always think of yourself as my daughter.’ Then his manner became impassive, as he delivered his official message. ‘I asked to be the one to inform the Great Mistress that the Assembly has voted. The decision was reluctant, but the magicians concede to her demands. Our order will be answerable to the new law, as set down by the Emperor Justin over the Nations.’
Mara inclined her head in respect. She half expected Fumita to effect the same abrupt departure that was his habit when he saw his part as finished.
But as if his admission of kinship with his son had opened the floodgates of change, this one time he lingered. ‘My son, my daughter, I wish you both to know that your courageous actions are approved. You have done Acoma and Shinzawai honor. I only wish my brother – Hokanu’s foster father – were still alive to bear witness.’
Hokanu kept an impassive face, but Mara could sense his great pride. A crooked smile finally cracked his warrior’s façade, matched almost at once by a mirroring one from Fumita. ‘I guess none of the scions of House Shinzawai are adept at keeping tradition,’ the magician observed. To Mara he added, ‘You may never know how difficult it has been, sometimes, for our kind to give up the life we knew before our power was recognised. It is worse for those like myself, who were grown men with families when our power manifested. The Assembly’s secrets have crippled our emotions, I sometimes think. That has been a tragic mistake. We were forced to wall away our feelings, and as a consequence, acts of cruelty seemed removed from us. As change refreshes us, we will reawaken to our humanity. In the end, we of the Assembly will grow to have cause to thank you, and to bless Lady Mara’s memory.’
The Mistress of the Empire embraced the magician with a familiarity she would never have dared before. ‘Visit the Imperial Court often, Fumita. Your granddaughter must grow with the joy of knowing her grandfather.’
As if uncomfortable with the rush of feelings, for the gift of a family restored, Fumita bowed brusquely. A heartbeat later, he vanished in a breath of air, leaving Mara and Hokanu alone to share a last moment of each other’s private company.
The fountains sang, and the flowers released their perfume on the deepening evening air. The page who arrived was an intrusion, as he made his bow and announced, ‘My Lady, the Light of Heaven requests the presence of his father, and the Mistress of the Empire, for his council.’
‘Politics,’ Mara said with a sigh. ‘Is it the dance or ourselves that are the masters?’
‘It is the dance that masters us, of course,’ Hokanu smiled. ‘Else I should never be leaving you, Lady.’ Then he turned, and presented his arm to his former wife. With a dignity born of profound courage and unshakable inner peace, he escorted her toward the imperial suite, and her new role as Regent and Mistress of the Empire.
Reunion
The herald struck the gong.
Lady Mara, Mistress of the Empire, resettled her weight on the gilt-edged cushion that failed to soften the unyielding marble of her official seat on the imperial dais. Hers might be less brilliant a throne than Justin’s gold-overlaid one, but it was no less uncomfortable. In two years of presiding over Justin’s public duties, she had never grown used to it.
Mara’s thoughts drifted. Gaining in his experience on the golden throne, Justin was more and more capable of managing the decisions presented on the Day of Appeals. He had his mother’s talent for seeing the pattern in complex issues, and his father’s ability to cut to the heart of the matter. Most of the time Mara served at his side more in the role of adviser than Regent; sometimes she sat lost in memories as she endured the lengthy hours of state councils, trusting Justin to let her know when her attention was needed.
Sundown was near, she saw by the slant of the light through the dome in the grand hall of audience. The Day of Appeals was at last drawing to a close. The last few of the Emperor’s petitioners approached the rail on the floor below. Mara resisted the urge to rub tired eyes as Justin, ninety-two times Emperor, called out the traditional words that acknowledged his approaching subject’s right to be heard.
‘Lord Hokanu of the Shinzawai, know that you have the ear of the gods through our ear.’ Justin’s voice was breaking to the baritone that would be his in manhood, but joy at the arrival of his foster father caused him to forget to blush at
the roughness that had invaded his speech. ‘Heaven smiles down upon the felicity of your visit, and we bid you glad welcome.’
Mara started sharply from reverie. Hokanu was here! Her heart leaped as she looked down to see how he fared. Months had passed since their paths had last crossed at a state function. The Shinzawai Lord had left the court, she recalled, to attend upon his lady wife, who had been pregnant with his heir.
Heirs
, Mara was forced to correct herself, as the imperial herald called out two names, and she reviewed the pair of bundles borne in the arms of their father. A nurse and two servants hovered nearby, and another, a slight, pretty girl whose eyes were downcast and shy before the presence of her Emperor.
Justin was grinning; another trait he had inherited from his outworld father was spurning the Tsurani bent for stiff-faced protocol. These days some of the younger nobles were imitating him, affecting his animated expressions and frank speech, as unmarried women might follow popular fashion, much to the discomfort of the older Ruling Lords. He gave his stately mother a mischieviously unroyal poke in the ribs. ‘Mother, you must have words for this occasion.’
Mara did not. She could only smile down on the proud father for a long minute close to tears. The babies were beautiful, perfect; if they could not have been hers to bear, she blessed the gods that the quiet Elumani’s fertility had granted her husband’s fierce desire. ‘Sons?’ Mara managed to whisper at last.
Hokanu nodded, speechless. His eyes mirrored the joy in her own, and also the aching regret. He missed Mara’s quick mind, and the ease of her company. Elumani was a gentle girl, but she had not been chosen for fiery spirit. Still, she had given what Mara could not: the House of Shinzawai now had children for continuance of the line.
Hokanu had his boys, and they would grow and come to replace the companionship he had lost.
The imperial herald cleared his throat. ‘Lord Hokanu of the Shinzawai, presenting to the Light of Heaven his heirs, Kamatsu and Maro.’
Justin voiced the official acknowledgment of the children. ‘May they grow in joy and strength, with the blessing of heaven.’
Mara found her voice. ‘I am happy for you both. Lady Elumani, I am especially flattered and proud.’ She paused, deeply touched by the unexpected gift of having a namesake of Hokanu’s blood. She had to force herself not to weep as she continued. ‘When your sons are old enough, I would be pleased to have them visit the imperial nursery, and to enjoy making acquaintance with their half-sister, Kasuma.’
The tiny, auburn-haired girl at Hokanu’s side gave a graceful bow. She still did not raise her eyes, and the skin of her cheeks blushed pink at this royal recognition. ‘I am deeply honored,’ she said in a voice like a mellow songbird’s. ‘The Mistress of the Empire is too kind.’
All too soon the Shinzawai party were making bows of parting to the Emperor. Mara gazed wistfully after the blue-armored figure that strode out with all the warrior’s grace she remembered. Then her emotions overcame her. She raised her ceremonial fan and tipped it open to hide her sudden tears. Sons for the Shinzawai: they were now a fulfilled wish, more than a dream for the future of the Empire. Twins! Mara shook her head, bemused. It seemed as if the bounty of the gods outdid itself to make up for the poor infant of hers who had died before birth.
Her loneliness was now well worth such rewards. Seeing Hokanu, spending time with him, was no longer possible, and she missed him, but a time would come when they could visit without pain, because deep friendship had formed the heart of their marriage.
Again the gong chimed. The imperial herald’s voice rang out, announcing the presentation of the newly arrived ambassador from the Kingdom of the Isles, on the world of Midkemia.
Mara stole a peek at the group who approached, then raised her fan swiftly as her heart twisted yet again.
Never could she behold a group of men in outworld dress without thinking of the barbarian lover who had tossed her life tempestuously into change. Three of them were slender and tall, and one even walked with the barest hitch to his stride. That flawed movement tugged at her memory.
She chided herself. Too much, today, she had allowed herself to become maudlin over past affairs of the heart. She braced herself to endure greeting a man who would be a stranger, who might speak Tsurani with the odd, nasal twang of a Midkemian, and who, though tall, would not be Kevin. That these men did not wear slave’s grey, but rather the fine silks and rich velvets, with the blazon of the King of Isle upon the tabards of the officers, made no difference. Mara looked away, avoiding even imperfect reminders of personal loss.
The ambassador from the Isles and his company reached the rail. An official who had visited repeatedly in establishing this exchange of envoys, Baron Michael of Krondor, addressed the court. ‘Your Majesty, it is my honor to present to you the ambassador of the Kingdom of the Isles –’ The sudden silence caused Mara to look.
The ambassador had one hand half raised to sweep off his plumed hat and bow, in the style of his homeland. But there he had frozen. His knuckles obscured his face. The watching courtiers stilled also; a few of the nearer Imperial Whites peculiarly struggled to hide amazement.
Then the barbarian ambassador doffed his hat and bowed, slowly, his eyes never leaving Justin’s face. A murmur swept the court as he did so. Mara looked again
at the new ambassador, and her heart again seemed to skip. The man who had reminded her of her lost love was replacing his outlandish hat, with the white plume and gold badge. Her eyes again threatened to betray her, so she quickly fanned her face, lest rumors sweep the city this night that the Imperial Regent had been given over to unreasonable bouts of tears for no good reason. She heard Baron Michael finish the introduction: ‘… emissary from His Royal Highness Lyam, King of the Isles.’
‘You may approach,’ the Light of Heaven allowed, sounding all boyishly treble. Mara heard movement as the Imperial Whites stepped aside and opened the railing, inviting the ambassador onto the dais to present his credentials.
The Midkemian ascended the first stair. His booted foot-fall rang across a chamber arrested into stillness. Carefully Mara closed her fan, as the emissary from the Kingdom of the Isles mounted the last steps between them.
He paused three paces from the throne and swept into another bow. This time his hat stayed off as he straightened. Mara beheld his face.
A soft cry escaped her. The profile of the man, and that of her son in his gold-edged robes of state, were mirror images. But where the boy’s features were yet unlined, and only lately beginning to mature into the firmness of adulthood, the man’s were well scored with creases, as fair skin will age with passing years and too much sun. The once red hair was frosted now with white, and the eyes were wide, stunned.
The Mistress of the Empire saw fully. She was forced to confront what all the Lords in the court had seen, from the instant the ambassador had made his entry. Only the hat, and the high angle of the dais, and the weak moment of cowardice that had caused her to hide behind her fan had made her the last to discover just who stood before her with an air of exasperated startlement.
‘Kevin,’ Mara mouthed soundlessly.
Arakasi, as Imperial First Adviser, stepped forward to receive the ambassadorial credentials. Showing an unusual grin, he said, ‘You’ve changed.’
Recognition registered. With an answering laugh, Kevin said, ‘So have you. I didn’t recognise you without a disguise.’
With only the barest glance at the documents, Arakasi turned and said, ‘Your Majesty, before you stands the ambassador from the King of the Isles, Kevin, Baron of the Royal Court.’
Justin nodded and said, ‘You are welcome,’ but his voice showed he, too, was close to losing decorum. For before him stood the blood father he had only heard about.
