Then he realized that, unlike the area that housed the council hall, these passages had no mixed companies of guards on duty. ‘It’s so quiet.’
Mara peeked out of her litter curtains. ‘Everyone is at the docks, bidding the Emperor and his honour company farewell. This is why we hurried here — better chance to enter unobserved. I did not want to risk meeting Imperial Guards right now.’
They ascended no stairs. The Acoma apartment complex was situated at ground level near a slight bend, and identified by a lacquered green door with a shatra bird seal. The corridor stretched away from the crook for a hundred yards in each direction, with gigantic portals and more intersecting halls at either end. By now Kevin had deduced that the apartments were arrayed in semicircles around the central dome that housed the High Council hall. Set out in blocks, another three hundred or so small complexes turned this section of the palace into a warren of halls and passages.
Two massive apartment complexes stood adjacent to Mara’s, and opposite lay the residence of House Washota, its green and blue doors securely closed. Past the bend, the doorways had yet more majestic decorations, from vaulting arches obscured by sixty-foot-high silken hangings, to carpeted stairs and urns overflowing with flowers. These were the apartments of the Five Great Families, with the smaller gallery complexes above reserved for guests and vassals. The allotment of space was by rank, but barracks room did not vary. Every Lord in the Empire could dwell within the Imperial Palace with a maximum retinue of twelve.
Yet Mara had brought fully thirty Acoma warriors into the palace precinct. Though technically she flouted a rule to do so, there were no patrols mustered in the corridors. In unstable times she knew full well that other Lords would do likewise, or bring still more warriors if they could manage it.
At Kenji’s discreet tap, the green door opened. Inside, two guards bowed to their mistress and made way for her retinue to enter.
Jican bowed also, as her litter was set down in the small anteroom. ‘The area is safe, Lady,’ said the hadonra, and at his shoulder, Lujan gave Mara a slight nod.
Then the rest of the warriors crowded through the outer door, leaving Kevin barely enough space to raise his Lady from her litter. Judged by the standards of the town house, the apartment seemed spartan. The wooden floors held little beyond old woven carpets and cushions, and an occasional ceramic oil lamp. And then Kevin realized: the heavier furniture had been moved to block all the windows and doors. The apartment was three rooms deep, and the inner chambers opened into a small terrace courtyard. But today the Tsurani passion for breezeways and open doors was sacrificed for safety. Several screens had been nailed shut and backed with heavy wooden barricades.
‘Expecting an attack?’ Kevin asked no one in particular.
‘Always,’ Mara answered. She looked sad as she reviewed the steps her warriors had taken to secure her family quarters. ‘We may not be the only house to realize that now is the perfect time to enter without attracting notice. Imperial Whites will always be on duty in the Imperial Family’s complex, but without council-sanctioned guards, this area is now a no-man’s-land. We travel these halls and concourses at our own peril.’
While the bearers began the task of piling Mara’s carry boxes against an outside screen, Arakasi arrived, his face drenched in perspiration. He wore the loincloth and sandals of a messenger, and his hair was tied back with a ribbon too dirty for anyone to reliably determine its colour.
Mara threw off her travelling robe, a look of inquiry on her face. ‘You look like a merchant’s runner.’
Arakasi replied, eyes alight with sly humour, ‘Runners wearing house colours are being waylaid by everybody.’
This drew a slight laugh from Mara, who softened at Kevin’s blank look and explained. ‘Merchants’ runners often don house colours, because that discourages street urchins from throwing stones at them. But now a messenger in house colours is apt to be seized for information. Since stone bruises are less to be feared than torture, roles have been reversed.’ She asked Arakasi, ‘What news?’
‘Strange bands of men move through the shadows. They hide their armour under cloaks and carry no badge of house service. Imperial servants give them a wide berth.’
‘Assassins?’ Mara asked, and her eyes held her Spy Master’s without shifting as a servant retrieved the robe that trailed from her fingers.
Arakasi shrugged. ‘They could be that, or some Lord’s army being smuggled into the city. They might also be agents of the Emperor sent under cover to see who seeks to break the peace. Someone highly placed let slip some information that has caused a stir of talk.’
Mara sank down onto a nearby cushion and motioned permission for the others to retire.
But Arakasi declined. ‘I won’t be staying, except to add that it appears that some of the demands made by the King upon the Emperor are . . . very odd.’