Arakasi ducked the maid’s hand. In a movement quick as a predator’s, he caught up a clean rag and held it pressed to his injury. ‘My Lady should not bother herself with a servant’s aches and pains.’
In the softening gloom of twilight, Mara’s eyebrows rose. ‘And servants should not bother to aid their mistresses by risking imperial charges for handing a blade to a slave? No’ – she raised her hand as Arakasi drew breath – ‘don’t answer. Lujan swears he didn’t see. There was a knife that turned up bloody in the pantry, but the cooks insist it was used to slaughter jigabirds.’
Arakasi loosed a sharp chuckle. ‘Jigabirds! How apt.’
‘Very. Now answer my question,’ Mara demanded.
Still delighted, Arakasi obeyed. ‘All is in chaos. There are fires everywhere, and many wounded. Kentosani looks as if it has been overrun by an invading army in the quarters around the arena. The Warlord has retired in shame, humiliated by the Great One, Milamber. The spectacle was too public and caused too many innocent deaths. I wager Almecho will end his sorry life within the day.’
‘The Emperor?’ Through her excitement at this momentous news, Mara kept track of the prosaic. She dismissed the maid with orders to fetch a tray of supper.
Arakasi said, ‘The Light of Heaven is safe. But the Imperial Whites are withdrawn from all parts of the palace save the family suite, where they protect the Emperor and his children. The Council Guards remain on duty, but with no orders from the Warlord to direct them, they will not act.
By nightfall, it should be presumed that house loyalty will prevail, and each company will return to its own master. What rules we know are temporarily suspended, with the council weakened and the Warlord shamed.’ Arakasi shrugged. ‘There is no law, except as strength demands.’
Mara felt chilled in a room that seemed suddenly darker. She clapped for servants to light lamps, then said, ‘Lujan should hear this. Do you think we could be attacked?’
Arakasi sighed. ‘Who can know? All is madness out there. Yet if I were to hazard a guess, we are probably safe for the night. If the Lord of the Minwanabi survived the destruction of the games, then he is most likely hiding in his quarters, as we are, taking stock of personal losses and awaiting word that sanity has returned in the streets.’
The tray arrived, brought in by a servant with Lujan striding hard on his heels. Mara motioned for her Force Commander to be seated, then had a round of chocha poured. She sat back and sipped the hot, reassuring liquid, while Lujan bullied Arakasi into treating his wound with salve. The warrior’s graphic descriptions of suppurating sword cuts were enough to intimidate the bravest, and Arakasi’s courage mostly stemmed from stubbornness. Roused to pity by her Spy Master’s harried frown, but not enough to let him escape being bandaged by the capable hands of her Force Commander, Mara judged her moment and intervened. ‘If Almecho takes his own life, there will be a call to council.’
Eager for the diversion, Arakasi scooped up a cold meat pie. ‘A new Warlord.’
Lujan tossed the unused bandage back in the basket of remedies. ‘Any who attend the election will be taking grave risks. There is no clear successor to the title.’
Yet that danger, while apparent enough, was not the worst imaginable. Mara raised steady eyes in the brightening light of the lamps. ‘If ever the Acoma presence must be in force in the council, it’s to elect Almecho’s successor. Only five Lords command enough following to strive for the title, and one of those is Desio of the Minwanabi. His claim must never be permitted to succeed.’
‘You have made bargains,’ Arakasi allowed, ‘compiled enough promised votes that you could carry an influence. But with all normal order overturned, do you dare rely on who will be present to be counted?’
Now Mara’s fatigue showed plainly. ‘No greater risk could exist than Desio wearing the white and gold.’
Lujan fingered his weapon hilt. ‘Could that happen?’
‘In the normal course of events, no. Now . . . ?’ The Spy Master shrugged. ‘This morning, would any one of us have guessed the reign of Almecho could end in disgrace before sundown?’
The night beyond the window seemed suddenly more than dark. Menaced by gathering fears, Mara longed for the comfort of Kevin’s arms; but he was outside with the warriors, helping to repair gaps the earthquake had opened in the wall. Milamber had broken more than stones and heads in his contest against the Warlord. His deed had undermined all hierarchy within the Empire, and the dust would be long days settling.