Tasaio laughed without humour. ‘I dislike pointless flattery, First Adviser, as well as unconvincing humility. Rise, and remember that.’
A loud peal of thunder rattled the house, and echoes boomed across the night-dark lake. With a field commander’s ability to adjust his voice to noise, Tasaio said, ‘Here are your orders, First Adviser. Dismiss Desio’s body servants and concubines. I have staff of my own, and they will attend me as I don my robes of mourning. I shall sleep this night in the officers’ barracks. Tell my hadonra to clear everything that belonged to Desio from the Lord’s quarters. I want the chambers stripped. My carry boxes and personal items will be fully installed by dawn, and the old Lord’s robes, bedding, and other personal items will be burned.’ Tasaio’s eyes narrowed. ‘Tell the kennel master to cut the throats of the man-killer hounds – they will answer to no other master. After first light, assemble every member of this household on the drill field. A new Lord of the Minwanabi rules, and all must understand that inefficiency will not be tolerated.’
‘As my Lord wishes.’ Incomo prepared for a sleepless night. He unfolded sore knees and made ready to stand, but his master had not finished.
The Lord of the Minwanabi regarded his First Adviser with flat, unwavering eyes. ‘You do not need to indulge me as you did my cousin. I will hear your thoughts on all matters, even if my opinion lies contrary. You may suggest as you see fit until the moment I give orders. Then you will silently obey. Tomorrow we shall review the accounts and call together an honour guard. By midday I wish to be in my barge of state, on my way downriver to Kentosani. See that every detail is in order for my journey. For when I reach the Holy City I intend to present my case.’
‘What case, my Lord?’ Incomo inquired in tacit respect.
At last Tasaio smiled, a sword-sharp brightness to his expression. ‘Why, to assume the seat of Warlord, obviously. Who has a better claim than I?’
Incomo felt the hair stir at his neck. At last, after years of wishful yearning, he would serve a Lord who was clever, competent, and ambitious.
Thunder shook the floor again, and rain slashed against the screens. Straight in the wavering flare of lamplight, Tasaio finished his thought. ‘Once I wear the white and gold, we shall obliterate the Acoma.’
Incomo bowed again. When he rose, the room was empty, a draught through the darkened doorway the only trace of his master’s visit. Silently the First Adviser considered the desire he had never dared utter, but that fate and the gods had freely granted: Tasaio now wore the Minwanabi mantle. Touched by a mood of dry irony, Incomo wondered why the gift left him feeling worn and old.
The storm left runoff that trickled in streams around the luck symbols anchored to the roof peaks of the Imperial Palace, and downspouts dripped into puddles in the courtyards. Inside the building, the sound of falling water became muffled; draughts played like sighs up and down the cavernous corridors, setting streaming the flames of those lamps that servants had bothered to light. Lujan and five armoured warriors marched briskly through concourses gloomy with shadows to report back to the Acoma apartment.
Mara met her Force Commander in the middle room, where she conferred with Arakasi. Kevin stood by the wall at her shoulder, his mood of biting sarcasm brought on by inactivity. He had a headache. His teeth were on edge from listening to warriors sharpen weapons, and the reek of the lacquer used to preserve laminated-hide armour made his stomach queasy.
Before the Lady’s cushions, Lujan arose from his bow.
‘Mistress,’ he said briskly, ‘we bring word of new movement by Sajaio, Tondora, and Gineisa soldiers into apartments previously unoccupied.’
Mara frowned. ‘Minwanabi dogs. Any word of the kennel master himself?’
‘No. Not yet.’ Lujan unstrapped his helm and scuffed his fingers through damp hair.
Arakasi looked up from the untidy pile of notes passed on to him that morning by his contacts throughout the palace. He regarded the Acoma Force Commander with hooded eyes. ‘In three more days, the Emperor will return to the palace.’
Propped by one shoulder against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, Kevin said, ‘Taking his own sweet time about it, isn’t he?’