Janny Wurts - The Complete Empire Trilogy

His expression showed calculation, and his small eyes, faint hope. If Teani had acted the renegade, then Shimizu had preserved his honour in killing her; should the image stop here, he was safe. But the face of the Great One showed neither sternness nor sympathy beneath the dark shadow of his hood. His spell continued to unreel, and in the midst of the chamber the Minwanabi Strike Leader spun into a battle crouch and advanced upon the Lady of the Acoma.

Jingu stiffened as if touched by an executioner’s sword point. Shimizu’s broad back prevented any in the room from seeing what Lady Mara might have said, but after a short exchange of words, the warrior’s blade rose and swiftly fell. Mara could be seen rolling in the corner. And cautiously, surreptitiously, those guests beside their host began to edge away, as if his shame were a contaminant that might spread on contact. Arakasi’s courageous intervention became aftermath, as around the room guest after guest turned eyes of judgment and contempt upon the Lord of the Minwanabi.

Clearly the image had said enough. Into a strangling stillness Elgahar mumbled a few phrases, and the alien blue-white light was extinguished. Mara let air back into cramped lungs, shaking still with suspense. Her danger was not over yet.

Beside the Lord of the Minwanabi stood Almecho, an evil delight in his expression. Costly embroidery flashed as he raised his shoulders in an elaborate shrug. ‘Well, Jingu. That seems a clear enough assault upon your guests. First the girl, then the warrior. You have enthusiastic servants, don’t you?’

Jingu showed no sign of turmoil. Racked by emotions only he could know, he glared first at Mara, then at the muscled and bleeding form of his Strike Leader. Those closest heard him whisper, ‘Why? Shimizu, you were my most trusted warrior. What drove you to this act?’

Shimizu’s lips curled in agony. Whatever excuse he gave regarding the machinations of Teani, his actions had already condemned his master to die to expiate the shame to his honour. ‘The witch betrayed us,’ he said simply, and whether he referred to Mara or Teani was unclear.

‘You madman!’ screamed Jingu, and his vehemence rocked all in the room. ‘Stupid get of a diseased bitch, you’ve killed me!’ Without thought, he drew a dagger from beneath his robe and lunged forward. Before any could react to his rage, he slashed backhanded across Shimizu’s exposed neck. Severed arteries shot a fountain of blood, spattering fine robes and bringing a scream from a weak-nerved Lady. Shimizu tottered in uncomprehending confusion. His hands fumbled futilely as the life spurted between his fingers, and his great shoulders sagged as he realized his own death was upon him. Matters of betrayal and lies, twisted desires and misplaced love, all now became meaningless. He sank back. Almost peaceful as he welcomed the hand of Turakamu, he whispered last words to his master. ‘I thank my Lord for granting me death by the blade.’

Shimizu nodded finally to Mara, a silent salute for her victory. Then his eyes went vacant, and the hands that had sought her life fell slack. Sprawled in death at the feet of the elaborately clothed guests, he seemed a fitting symbol of Jingu’s defeat. In the Game of the Council, the Lord of the Minwanabi was ruined.

Almecho broke the silence. ‘That was impulsive, Jingu. The warrior might have had something more to say. A pity.’

The Lord of the Minwanabi whirled. For an instant he seemed capable of striking out at the Warlord, but his fury left him and he let the dagger fall. Almecho sighed. The cowled figures of the Great Ones returned to stand at his side as he focused his regard on Desio, son and heir of the Minwanabi. ‘As sunrise is considered the best time for such matters, I expect you’ll busy yourself for the next few hours with preparation for your father’s ritual expiation of his guilt. I’m returning to my bed. When I arise, I trust you’ll somehow restore the gaiety to this shambles of a celebration … Lord Desio.’

Desio nodded. Unable to speak, he began to lead his father away. Jingu seemed in a trance. Deflated, his bold, brash voice utterly stilled, he turned his mind inward to the task before him. Never a brave man, he must still act the part of a Tsurani Lord. Fate had decreed his death, and somehow he must find the strength to accomplish what was expected. But as his father crossed the threshold, Desio cast a last glance backward at the Lady Mara. His look offered clear warning. Others might applaud her playing of the Game of the Council, but she had not won; she had simply passed the blood feud along to another generation. Mara read his hatred and hid a shudder of dread. She needed no reminder of the fact that she was still deep within the heart of Minwanabi strength.

She thought swiftly, and before the Minwanabi heir could escape public regard, called after him. ‘My Lord Desio. Violence has been visited upon me by Minwanabi servants. I require an escort of your soldiers when I depart for home tomorrow. It would be a shame to blot the cleansing of your family if the wronged guest was attacked by those in your service … or by nameless bandits or water pirates upon the river.’

Thrust painfully into the responsibilities of rulership, Desio lacked the wits to excuse the request with grace. Aware only of the anguish of his father, and hatred of the Lady who had caused it, he still observed the forms he had been raised to follow. Feud would continue between the Minwanabi and the Acoma, but in public the insult to Mara and the blight on his family name required at least a gesture of reparation. Desio nodded curt agreement and departed, to attend upon the sorrows of Jingu’s ritual suicide.

Movement returned slowly to those who remained in the chamber. Guests stirred and exchanged comments, while a battered Arakasi helped the Lady Mara to her feet. Almecho and others looked upon the Lady of the Acoma with respect. No guest present believed the Lord of the Minwanabi would have sent servants to murder the Lady of the Acoma out of hand. None doubted that the Great One’s magic had revealed the last act of some complex plot of Mara’s, the Great Game of the Council at its subtle and deadly finest. The Lady of the Acoma had surmounted all but impossible odds to avenge a blow that had come close to ruining her house. Now all silently congratulated her for her skill in defeating her enemy in his own home.

Yet Mara had learned nothing if not to guard herself doubly against treachery where the Minwanabi were concerned. After a murmured conference with Arakasi, she stepped forward. Offering a deferential bow to the Warlord, she smiled in a manner that truly made her beautiful. ‘My Lord, I am sorry that my inadvertent part in these bloody acts has cast a shadow over your birthday celebration.’

More amused than irritated, Almecho regarded her keenly. ‘I place no responsibility on your shoulders, Lady Mara. Jingu is about to erase any debt that remains. Still, I suspect the affair is not ended. Even though our young Lord will provide escort for your return home – I salute that touch, by the way – you yet may face difficulties.’

Mara made light of her own danger. With all the charm at her disposal, she instead offered sympathy to the one who was the Emperor’s voice within Tsuranuanni. ‘My Lord, too much sorrow has passed here for your celebration to continue with grace. As much as Desio might wish otherwise, grief will leave him little heart to resume the festivities in your honour. While there are other estates closer, mine lie in the fastest direct route by river. In reparation, let me offer my home as a humble substitute for the final celebration of your birthday. Should you accept my hospitality, my staff and my artisans shall do their utmost to entertain you.’ Filled with secretive plans, Mara thought of the gifted but unrecognized performers she had observed at her wedding. In return for her past courtesy they would be willing to perform on short notice, and as one who had discovered new talents for the Warlord’s pleasure, her social stock would grow. And many a worthy musician and artist might gain needed patronage, putting them even deeper in her debt.