The runner proved unnecessary. While Mara deliberated over how best to get covert word to one of the agreed-upon places for leaving messages, the Spy Master himself showed up in the guise of a vegetable seller. The first Mara knew of the event was a commotion from the kitchens, and an uncharacteristic bout of temper from Jican.
‘Gods, don’t slice him with that meat cleaver,’ Kevin said in a merry baritone. His laughter echoed up the broad staircase, and aware that her irate hadonra would retaliate by having her lover scrape latrines, Mara hurried down to intervene.
She found her Spy Master leaning on the wheel of a handcart filled with a cargo of spoiled vegetables that some thrifty soul had saved to feed livestock. ‘There aren’t any fresh ones in the market,’ Arakasi was saying reasonably to Jican. When that failed to placate the red-faced little man, he added on a note of hope, ‘In the poor quarter, these melons would fetch good prices.’
In danger of laughing outright after days of trauma and worry, Mara made her presence felt. ‘Arakasi, I have need of you. Jican, ask Lujan for an escort of soldiers, and go and find some edible meat to butcher. If you find none, those melons won’t smell so terrible.’
Arakasi pushed off from his perch, bowed, and left handcart and contents to the hadonra. ‘Happy hunting,’ he murmured as he passed, and earned an intent look from Mara. ‘You seem in a fine mood this morning,’ she commented.
‘That’s because nobody else is,’ Kevin interrupted. ‘He does it just to be perverse.’
The barbarian fell into step with mistress and Spy Master as she retraced her way through the scullery, then settled for conference on the stone benches laid out in a circle within the courtyard.
Mara liked the place, with its flowering trees and its soft-voiced trio of fountains. But her manner was far from languid as she opened, ‘Is it certain Almecho is dead?’
Arakasi shed a smock that smelled ripely of fruit mould. ‘The Warlord performed the rite of expiation before all his retainers and friends, including two Great Ones. His body lies in state in the Imperial Palace.’
‘You heard there is no call to council?’ Mara questioned, and now her concern showed through.
Arakasi’s lapse into levity ended, ‘I had heard. Some Lords are already grumbling, and Desio’s voice is the loudest.’
Mara closed her eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of flowers. So fast; events were moving all too swiftly. For the sake of her house, she must act, but how? All the known laws had been broken. ‘Who will rule?’
‘The Emperor.’ All eyes turned to Kevin.
Mara sighed in a burst of impatience. ‘You do not understand. The Emperor rules as a spiritual leader. While the daily business of the Tsuranuanni is conducted by the imperial staff, the High Council governs the nation. All policy begins there, with the Warlord foremost among the great Lords of the land.’
Kevin hiked a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the palace. ‘I seem to remember someone saying the Light of Heaven never went out in public, either, but there he was, big as life, sitting at the games. This Emperor has already changed the way of his fathers, as I see things. Ichindar may be more intent on governing than you think.’
Arakasi stroked his chin, if not he, then the Great Ones could be at play here. There were an inordinate number of them present the other day.’
‘Everyone has guesses,’ Mara interjected. ‘What we need are facts. Who survived the debacle at the games, and were there any suspicious accidents in the aftermath?’
‘Far more injuries than fatalities,’ Arakasi said, ‘I will write you a list before I leave. If a momentous precedent is being set at the palace, there are agents I can approach with questions. For now I advise caution, despite the Emperor’s peace. Many streets are still blocked with debris. The priests of the Twenty Orders have opened their temples to house the homeless, but with trade disrupted at the docks, food is scarce. There are hungry, desperate people at large who are every bit as dangerous as assassins. Repair work began at the waterfront this morning, but until the markets reopen, the streets will be perilous to walk.’
Mara made a rueful gesture at the wrappings on her feet. ‘I shouldn’t be going out until my litter is replaced, in any event.’
Arakasi rose, stretched, and flexed his hands until his knuckles cracked. Mara regarded him narrowly. The cut on his cheek was healing, but the surrounding flesh looked more drawn than she recalled. ‘How long has it been since you slept?’
‘I haven’t,’ said the Spy Master. ‘There has been too much to do.’ With the faintest distaste, he picked up the discarded farm smock. ‘With your leave, my Lady, I will borrow back that handcart and seek your guards and hadonra. The markets may be closed, but I do have ideas where Jican might buy vegetables.’ His head vanished briefly behind crumpled, filthy cloth as he tugged the garment over his house robe. Tousled, squint-eyed, and looking every inch the weathered field hand when he emerged, he added, ‘The price will be very dear.’