‘You don’t suppose somebody’s holding footraces, and making odds to pass the time?’ Kevin suggested in an attempt at humour.
Lujan appeared in the doorway, soaked with sweat from his exercises, and still gripping his unsheathed sword. ‘Footracers don’t wear battle sandals with studs,’ he commented dryly. Then he looked at Mara, who sat as still as a figure in a china shop, with too little colour in her face. ‘My Lady, at your word, I could go out and find a rumourmonger.’
Mara turned paler. ‘No,’ she said sharply. ‘You are too valuable to risk.’ Then she frowned, as she weighed whether she should deplete her garrison by two and send a pair of warriors on the errand instead. Arakasi was three hours late, and to hold uselessly to false hope was to invite yet greater risk.
A scratch came at the outer screen. Lujan spun, his sword pointed at the barricade, and every other Acoma guard in the room whipped around ready for attack.
But the scrape was followed by a whisper that caused Mara to cry, ‘Thank the gods!’
Quickly, cautiously, the warriors let down the wooden tabletop, wedged up by three heavy coffers, and cracked the screen. Arakasi entered, a black silhouette against daylight. For an instant fresh air filled with the sweet scent of flowers swirled through the close apartment. Then Kenji fastened the screen and slotted the wooden pegs that secured it, and coffers and tabletop were replaced with swift dispatch.
In the falling gloom, Arakasi found his way to Mara’s cushions in five unerring strides. He threw himself prostrate before her. ‘Mistress, forgive my delay.’
At his tone, a mixture of disbelief and masked anger, Mara’s brief joy at his return vanished. ‘What’s amiss?’
‘All,’ said the Spy Master without preamble. ‘Wild rumours sweep the palace. There has been trouble upon the barbarian world.’
Mara relinquished her quill pen before tension caused her to snap it. Somehow her voice remained firm. ‘The Emperor?’
‘He is safe, but little more is known.’ Arakasi’s voice became gritty with rage. ‘The barbarians acted with dishonour. They sang a song of peace while they plotted murder. At the conference, despite their bond of truth, they attacked suddenly and almost killed the Emperor.’
Mara sat speechless in shock, and Kevin cursed in astonishment. ‘What?’
Arakasi sat back on his heels, his manner bleak. ‘At the conference, a large company of those you call dwarves and elves massed nearby, and when the Light of Heaven was most vulnerable, they attacked.’
Kevin shook his head in denial. ‘I can’t believe this.’
Arakasi’s eyes narrowed. ‘It is true. Only through the bravery of his officers and the Warchiefs of the Five Families did the Light of Heaven survive this treachery on your world. Two soldiers carried him back through the rift, unconscious, and there followed a terrible thing. The rift closed and could not be reopened, trapping four thousand Tsurani soldiers upon the Midkemian world.’
Mara’s confusion sharpened into rapt attention. She drew a quick breath. ‘Minwanabi?’
‘Dead,’ snapped Arakasi. ‘He was among the very first to fall. His cousin Jeshurado died at his side.’
‘The other Warchiefs?’
‘Gone. Dead or not, none can say, but the rift exists no more. All of the Warlord’s honour guard remain trapped upon the barbarian world.’
Mara couldn’t comprehend the enormity of this. ‘Xacatecas?’
The list continued, inexorably. ‘Gone. Lord Chipino was last seen fighting Kingdom horsemen.’
‘All of them?’ Mara whispered.
‘Scarcely a handful returned,’ Arakasi said, anguished. ‘The two soldiers who carried the Light of Heaven and a half dozen who served to marshal soldiers waiting on our side of the rift. The Imperial Force Commander was killed. Lord Keda lay bleeding upon the ground. Lord Tonmargu was nowhere to be seen. Pimaca of the Oaxatucan also was unaccounted for. Kasumi of the Shinzawai was the one who forced the Emperor to leave, but he did not himself pass the rift.’ Arakasi forced himself to take a breath. ‘The runner who arrived in the city knew nothing more than this, my Lady. I doubt at this time that even those involved could hazard much beyond guesses as to who is gone. The losses are too widespread, and the shock of the event far too sudden. After the Emperor assumes command, we may have a clearer idea of what occurred.’