Incomo stepped forward to greet him. ‘The hearts of the Minwanabi are filled at our Lord’s return.’
Tasaio returned a curt nod. He handed his battle helm to a servant, who bowed and retreated hastily. Never a man to waste words on banalities, the Lord of the Minwanabi turned a flat gaze upon his adviser. ‘Are the priests ready?’
Incomo bowed. ‘As you requested, my Lord.’
New black-and-orange cushions adorned the high dais, along with a rug sewn of sarcat pelts and a table fashioned of intricately etched harulth bones. Tasaio gave the change in furnishings what seemed a passing glance; yet no detail escaped him. Satisfied that nothing left over from Desio’s rule remained, he sat and gave no other sign beyond laying the bared steel blade of the Minwanabi ancestral sword across his knees.
There followed a pause, in which Incomo belatedly realized that he was expected to act without further sign from the master. Where Desio had insisted on control over even the tiniest action, Tasaio expected to be served. The Minwanabi First Adviser waved for the ceremony to commence.
A pair of priests approached the dais, one wearing the red paint and death mask of Turakamu and die other clad in the full-sleeved white robe of Juran the Just. Each intoned a blessing from the god they served. There followed no offerings, and no grand ceremony in the manner that Desio had orchestrated. The priest of Juran lit a candle, for constancy, and left it burning in a stand woven of the reeds that symbolized the frailties of mortal man before his god. The priest of the Death God did not dance or blow whistles. Neither did he ask his deity to show favour. Instead, he trod up the stairs of the dais and reminded in cold words that a promise of sacrifice remained unfulfilled.
‘A vow sworn upon the blood of House Minwanabi,’ the priest reminded. ‘The family of the Acoma must die in the name of Turakamu, with Minwanabi lives as surety. Who would accept the lord’s mantle must also complete this charge.’
Tasaio said thinly, ‘I acknowledge our debt to the Red God. My hand on this sword confirms it.’
The red priest traced a sigil in the air. ‘Turakamu smile upon your endeavour . . . or seal your death and that of your heirs should you fail.’ Bones clacked and rattled as the priest spun around and left the dais; while the draught of his passage guttered the candle of the Just God.
The new Lord of. the Minwanabi sat silently, without expression, as first one and then another family member or retainer came forward to bow and pledge loyalty. When the last vassal had affirmed fealty, he arose and called to the Strike Leader posted by the side door, ‘Send in my concubines.’
Two young women entered, both wearing rich clothes. One was tall, slender, and fair-haired, her wide-set eyes jade green, and delicately enhanced with paint. The other, robed in gauze lace dyed scarlet, had a dark complexion and a rounded figure. Of different types, both women owned a beauty that stopped men’s eyes, and they advanced in tiny steps, in the fashion of those trained since childhood to give pleasure. Both bowed gracefully before the dais, slender legs shown to advantage by short robes, and loose-wrapped gowns revealing an ample glimpse of breast. Although such women were chosen from among the loveliest in the Empire, neither held status above the meanest servant. All who were gathered in the hall stilled in curiosity to see what their Lord wished with his courtesans.
Before Tasaio’s dais, both women fell to their knees, touching foreheads to the floor.
‘Look at me,’ commanded Tasaio.
Frightened, but in all things obedient, the two young women did as instructed. ‘Your will, my Lord,’ they intoned in voices of practised softness.
The new Lord of the Minwanabi regarded them with dispassionate eyes. ‘Incarna,’ he addressed the dark one. ‘Are your children close?’
Incarna nodded, dread draining the colour from her cheeks. She had borne her Lord two illegitimate children, but their father’s rise in status might not be to their benefit. It was not uncommon for a man come to the mantle of Ruling Lord to kill such offspring, preventing any claim upon the family.
‘Bring them,’ Tasaio commanded.
A shimmer that might have been tears brightened Incarna’s almond eyes. Yet she jumped to her feet and hurried out of the Minwanabi great hall. Tasaio’s regard shifted to the fair woman who remained on her knees before the dais. ‘Sanjana, you’ve told my First Adviser you are with child?’