Kevin drew his blade clean between a fold of his slave robe. ‘This is new,’ he said quietly. ‘It still bears faint marks from the grinder’s wheel, and the stamp of the armourer’s mallet.’ He inspected it closely one last time and added, it bears no maker’s mark.’
All eyes turned to the slave. Iliando inflated his chest in the beginnings of offence, but Hoppara’s curiosity forestalled his response. ‘Who has the skill to make ancient weapons?’
Kevin shrugged. ‘Among my people, the art is commonplace. Any one of a dozen good smiths would be able to duplicate this, I think.’
Unwilling to be shown up as graceless by a younger Lord, Iliando lifted a blade and stiffly offered comment, it’s sharp, but I think not so finely fashioned as the ones made by our ancestors. These could be copies, made with inferior metals.’
‘But where would a man get such wealth?’ asked Hoppara.
‘My world,’ suggested Kevin.
The Lords exchanged glances, the stouter one taken aback by the slave’s forthright manner. Yet no one interrupted as Kevin said, ‘After a battle, your warriors pick up swords and armour as spoils. Someone gets his hands on enough iron and a good smith, then shows them one of your ancestral blades . . .’ He made a pass with the weapon. ‘Say he duplicates it. This blade is not so unlike those used by the Hadati mountain people in my homeland. A smith from Yabon could forge its like, and there could easily be such a captive working for one of your Lords.’
‘Minwanabi,’ said Mara, her voice almost splitting over the name. ‘All metals taken across the rift as spoils are property of the Empire, some sent as tribute to the temples, some to the imperial treasury, and the rest to pay the upkeep of the army upon Midkemia. But the collection is overseen by the Warlord and, in his absence, his Subcommander. Tasaio served in that post for five years. That’s ample time for a man without scruples to divert contraband resources back to his cousin’s estates.’ Mara’s tone grew reflective. ‘Or to his own estate, for his private use.’
Iliando’s heavy features showed distaste. ‘If every assassin carried one, the price of this one attack is incredible.’
‘For a raid in the Imperial Palace?’ Hoppara interjected. ‘I would wager five times this many swords would be needed.’ He regarded the red-stained floorboards. ‘No guarantee of success, and every man expected to die. No, Tasaio is the logical one to have hired the tong.’
‘Then,’ said Kevin, kicking the helm of a fallen black warrior with his toe, ‘who sent this lot?’
Hoppara sank tiredly down on an unstained corner of a bed mat. He regarded his sword, the edge of which was chewed with chips, and the tip long since delaminated. ‘Whoever it was, their day’s work was a blessing. The assassins and these warriors caused each other great confusion. I don’t know if we could have withstood the Hamoi tong alone.’
Mara crossed the floor and sat next to the young man. Exhaustion made her sigh. ‘Good men won the day for us, my Lord. You’ve done your house proud.’
Lord Iliando glanced significantly at Kevin, who yet held one of the metal blades. ‘The gods will find ill in this. A slave -‘
But Lujan cracked out an interruption. ‘I saw nothing.’
The heavyset Lord turned toward Mara, incensed at her Force Commander’s rudeness. She gave him back his stare with bland eyes. ‘I saw nothing untoward, my Lord of the Bontura.’
Iliando heaved in a great breath, but it was Hoppara who stepped in with diplomacy. ‘You speak, I believe, of a blade that saved your life?’
The Lord of the Bontura reddened. He cleared his throat, stabbed a glance at Kevin, then shrugged stiffly. ‘I saw nothing,’ he allowed grudgingly; for here, in the Acoma apartments, when Acoma guards had died to spare him, to contradict the word of a Lady and her guest was to insult Mara’s honour.
Kevin grinned. He held out his bloodied blade to Lujan, who accepted the offering with a flatly impassive face. Quick to ease the tension, Mara said, ‘My Lords, it would be appropriate if you each took two of the swords, as spoils of war. I plan on awarding worthy soldiers with the others, as a token of esteemed service.’
The Lords bowed their heads, for her gift was a magnanimous gesture. Hoppara smiled. ‘Your generosity is without precedent, Lady Mara.’
The Lord of the Bontura nodded; and by the flash of his eyes as he considered the enormous gain in wealth, Mara knew greed had won him. Kevin’s transgression would be overlooked.