Servant of the Empire (59 page)

‘Then Jican will owe you no favours. Go carefully,’ Mara bade him.

Arakasi bowed and stepped under the arch that led into the house, where he instantly became all but invisible; his voice issued softly out of the shadow. ‘You’ll be staying?’ Then, after barely a pause, ‘I thought so.’

And suddenly he was gone.

Kevin regarded his Lady in the greenish light falling through the trees. ‘You won’t be persuaded to go home to Ayaki?’ He asked also for himself, at the back of his mind a need to speak to Patrick, and share with his countryman the news that weighed on his heart since the games: Borric and Brucal routed, and the Kingdom open to invasion.

For an instant Mara looked anguished. ‘I cannot go home. Not with this much change under way. I must be close to the seat of power, no matter in whose charge things fall. I will not have House Acoma crushed as a consequence of other men’s decisions. If we are in peril, I will cherish my son beyond the last breath in my body, but I will act.’

Her hands rested tense on the stonework. Gently Kevin captured them in his own warm palms. ‘You are frightened,’ he observed.

She nodded, which for her was a momentous admission. ‘Because I can act against a plot by the Minwanabi or any other enemy Lord. But there are two forces in the Empire I must bow before without question, and one or both are at play here.’

Kevin needed no prompt to guess she referred to the Emperor and the Magicians. As her gaze darkened and turned inward, the Midkemian knew she worried also for her son.

Three more days passed, filled with the sounds of marching soldiers in the streets, and the grind of carts bearing away wreckage, rubble, and bodies. Mara waited, and took
reports from Arakasi, delivered in strange forms and at odd hours of the night. Kevin laconically remarked that the Spy Master had a knack for spoiling their lovemaking, but the truth was that boredom left the couple more time for indulgence. His prediction that the Emperor would undertake the rule of the Empire proved partially correct, but more than one game within politics was under way, and Arakasi diverted all his resources into uncovering whose hand pulled the strings.

As time passed, and the council members scrambled to assemble a profile of the emerging power structure, it became plain that Ichindar’s intervention was not a whim. He had planned carefully and kept men ready to step in and conduct the business usually left to the factors and agents of the Council Lords. The puzzle became clearer as Arakasi began to unwind which factions provided Ichindar with support. Members of the Blue Wheel Party, nearly all of them absentees from the chaos at the Imperial Games, were at the heart of the plot. Even the old Imperial Party families, who could claim ties of blood, were outsiders in this new order.

Since the declaration of imperial peace, the city began recovery from its wounds. Repairs of the destruction wreaked by the barbarian magician began with the laborious clearing of broken stones and timbers. For days a spire of smoke rose over the vicinity of the arena as the dead were brought there and burned. Stories of Imperial Whites hanging looters or black marketeers who were hoarding put an end to both practices. Moorings were set in the river, and small craft used to ferry goods ashore while new docks were built on old pilings; the shops began slowly to restock. Servants with shoulder yokes and handcarts picked their way around fallen stones to do business.

Ten days after the disaster at the games, Mara received reports from Sulan-Qu. There had been a small influx of
refugees there, and some fighting over salvage on the riverbanks, but Acoma interests had not suffered. Nacoya reported that, except for Ayaki’s tantrums, all was quiet at the Acoma estate. The worst the First Adviser had contended with was Keyoke, who had to be dissuaded from sending half the standing garrison to Kentosani to extricate his mistress. They had learned she was safe, Nacoya wrote, through Arakasi’s agents. Mara set down the inscribed parchment. Tears blurred her eyes as she thought upon the devotion of those who loved her. She missed her son unbearably, and vowed to spend more time with him at the earliest opportunity.

Fast footsteps sounded in the hallway. Mara heard her guards snap to attention, and then Arakasi appeared, looking hollow-eyed and grim. In a total breach of protocol, he burst into her private quarters and threw himself face down on the carpet in absolute obeisance.

‘Mistress, I beg forgiveness for my rush.’

Caught in a moment of weakness, Mara dabbed at her eyes. She knew she ought to feel frightened, but events were changing so quickly, she felt as if they were happening to somebody else.

‘Be seated,’ Mara said. ‘What is the news?’

Arakasi rose, and his eyes roved the chamber, seeking. ‘Where is Kevin? He should hear this, as you will certainly want his opinion.’

Mara flicked her hand, and her runner departed for the kitchen, where the Midkemian had gone for hot chocha. Already returning up the stairs, the barbarian slave entered almost immediately. ‘What’s the excitement?’ he asked as he set down a tray laden with a pot and assorted cups. ‘A bit of spiced chocha hardly seems cause for getting nearly knocked flat by your runner.’

Kevin’s back was turned to Mara as he bent to pour the first cup, and he had not noticed Arakasi, who habitually sought the least conspicuous corner.

‘First, the barbarians –’ the Spy Master began.

Startled into rattling the china, Kevin spun. ‘You!’ He covered his overreaction with a sour smile. ‘What about the
barbarians?
’

Arakasi cleared his throat. ‘The outworlders have launched a completely unexpected and massive counter-offensive. Our armies on Midkemia have been overwhelmed and routed back to the valley where we control the rift! We have just suffered the worst defeat of the war!’

Tactful for once, Kevin reined back a laugh of joy. But he could not resist a smug look at Arakasi as he handed his Lady her spiced chocha.

‘What else?’ Mara asked, sure there must be more because of her Spy Master’s precipitous entrance.

‘Second,’ Arakasi ticked off, ‘the Emperor has agreed to meet with the barbarian King to discuss peace!’

Mara dropped her cup. ‘What?’ Her exclamation cut across the smash of china, and steaming chocha splashed in a flood across the floor.

Kevin stood rooted. Mara ignored the drenched tiles, and the fine spray of stains that spread slowly through the hem of her robe. ‘Peace?’

Arakasi continued, speaking quickly. ‘My agent in the palace sent word this morning. Before the Warlord’s last major offensive, two agents of the Blue Wheel Party slipped through the rift with the outbound troops. They were Kasumi of the Shinzawai and a barbarian slave, and they left the encampment and carried words of peace to the barbarian King.’

‘That’s why your Shinzawai friend wasn’t at the games,’ Kevin said. ‘He didn’t know if he was going to be a hero or an outlaw.’

Mara pulled wet cloth from her knees, but called no maids to assist. ‘Kasumi. That’s Hokanu’s brother.’ Her
eyes narrowed. ‘But the Blue Wheel Party would never do something this bold without –’

‘Without the Emperor’s approval,’ Arakasi interjected. ‘That’s the gist. Ichindar had to be willing to discuss peace prior to dispatching any envoy.’

Mara turned pale as she considered. ‘So this is why the Light of Heaven was prepared to step in and rule.’ Slowly she added to Kevin, ‘Your appraisal of our Emperor may be more accurate than we gave you credit for, my love. Ichindar meddled in the Great Game, and none knew.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘This goes counter to all tradition.’

Kevin pulled a napkin from the tray and knelt to dam the flow of chocha. ‘You’re one to talk. I seem to recall you’ve bent one or two traditions to the point of twisting them beyond recognition.’

Mara protested. ‘But the Emperor …’ Her awe made it clear she considered the Light of Heaven to be just short of a god.

‘He’s a man,’ said Kevin, the hand with the dripping rag rested on his bent knee. ‘And he’s young. Young men often do unexpected and radical things. But this one’s lived a pampered life, for all his boldness. He’s surely naïve if he thinks he can skip in and order your power-hungry Tsurani Lords to pack up and go home and grow radishes.’

Arakasi said, ‘Mistress, whatever “radishes” may be, I fear Kevin is right.’

‘There’s another hand in this,’ Mara insisted, unsatisfied. She glared at her sodden overrobe, then threw it impatiently off. Fine cloth finished where Kevin’s ministrations had left off, but if a few silk cushions had been saved, Mara never noticed. ‘Had the magician Milamber not caused Almecho’s disgrace, how would things have proceeded?’

If the question was rhetorical, the progression was not hard to trace. Even Kevin could follow that the Blue Wheel
Party would have once more reversed policy and withdrawn from the Alliance for War. This would have left Almecho with only Minwanabi as a major supporter. With the Acoma and the Xacatecas busy worrying the Minwanabi flank, Desio could not afford to increase support. Almecho and his party would have been deadlocked, after thirteen years of near-absolute rule.

Kevin wrung his rag savagely over the chocha tray and voiced the only viable conclusion. ‘So your Emperor would have barged into the High Council to announce a peace proposal, and your Warlord would have lacked enough support to confront him. Very neatly done.’ Kevin finished with a whistle of admiration. ‘Your Ichindar is a very smart boy.’

Arakasi appeared inwardly calculating. ‘Even had things gone as Kevin surmises, I don’t think our Emperor would have risked an open confrontation with the Warlord. Not unless he had some special avenue of appeal.’

Kevin’s eyes widened. ‘The magicians!’

Mara nodded. ‘Almecho has his “pets”, so Ichindar would need allies to counter them.’ To Arakasi she said, ‘Go and speak with your agents. Discover, if you can, who among the Great Ones is a likely candidate to have been involved in this game. See if one has a special relationship to any within the Blue Wheel, especially the Shinzawai. They seem to be at the heart of things.’

As her Spy Master bowed and departed, Mara’s gaze sharpened as if she viewed some private vista from a place of dizzying height. ‘Great changes are coming. I feel this like the breeze that brings the butana,’ she said in reference to the bitter, dry wind that in the old stories raised the spirits of demons and set them free to roam the land. Then, as if thoughts of mythological evils and present-day strife gave her shivers, she ruefully acknowledged her clumsiness. ‘But
one can hardly seize the initiative while swimming in puddles of chocha.’

‘That depends on what sort of initiative,’ Kevin countered, and he rescued her from the disaster by sweeping her into his arms.

The upheaval precipitated by Milamber brought in a few small concessions. As trade resumed, and shortfalls opened opportunities, Mara received word from Lord Keda that her terms for the warehouse space had been accepted. The destruction along the dock front in Kentosani had made her offer the only option, and a premium would reward the first grain shipments to reach the market on the flood. Lord Andero conceded her the Keda vote with a minimum of sureties; with no High Council called to session, such a promise held questionable value.

Yet Mara dispatched a messenger with word of her acceptance anyway. Any promise was worth more than no promise at all, and from the information brought by her Spy Master, the ruling Lords who were not busy exploiting trade advantages were displeased with the Emperor’s machinations. Peace, they said, was a coward’s act, and the gods did not favour weak nations.

The news came thick and heavy after that; Mara spent yet another morning in conference with Arakasi, while Kevin dozed in the shade of a tree in the courtyard. He did not hear until later, when official word came, that the Light of Heaven had departed for the City of the Plains, his intent to cross the rift to Midkemia and negotiate for peace with Lyam, King of the Isles.

Kevin shot bolt upright at the mention of the Midkemian name. ‘Lyam!’

‘King Lyam,’ Mara repeated. She tapped the parchment delivered to her town house by imperial messenger. ‘So it is written here, by the Emperor’s own scribe.’

‘But Lyam is Lord Borric’s son,’ Kevin remembered, a dazed look on his face. ‘If he’s King, that can only mean King Rodric, Prince Erland of Krondor, and Borric himself are all dead.’

‘What do you know of King Lyam?’ Mara asked, choosing a seat by his side.

‘I don’t know him well,’ Kevin admitted. ‘We played together as children one time. I just remember him as a big blond boy who laughed a lot. I met Lord Borric once at a commanders’ meeting.’ He fell silent, wrapped in thoughts of his own land, until curiosity caused him to ask to read the parchment. The Emperor of Tsuranuanni did not believe in travelling without half the nobles in his Empire, it appeared. Kevin’s mouth quirked wryly. By imperial command, the Light of Heaven’s honour guard consisted of the Warchiefs of the Five Great Clans and the eldest sons of half the other Lords in Tsuranuanni.

‘Hostages,’ the Midkemian said outright. ‘The Lords will hardly defy edict and make bloody trouble with their heirs in the Emperor’s field army.’

The arena of politics suddenly paled. Kevin shut his eyes and tried to imagine the brown-haired youth in gilt armour seated across a table with Borric’s son Lyam, who was also young … and it came home to Kevin, like a slam to the heart, that time had passed. The war had gone on, and people had died in his absence. He did not even know if his father and elder brothers were alive. The thought stung, that for years he had forgotten to care. Seated in a beautiful courtyard, surrounded by alien flowers and a woman from a culture that often seemed incomprehensibly cruel, Kevin, third son of the Baron of Zun, took a deep breath and tried to take stock of who he was.