Keeping his tone light, Kevin said, ‘Do we marshal for war, my Lady?’
Mara smiled without humour. ‘Perhaps. If my clansmen show sense, we do not, but if they prove recalcitrant, I need this show of force. It will not take long for word to travel the river that the Acoma garrison has grown to the point of needing two Force Leaders.’ She shed a heavy collection of jade bangles and dropped them into an open coffer. Her set of matching hairpins followed with a chiming cascade of sound as each was tossed in with the rest. ‘No one need know our companies are fewer than before.’
The empty robe was surrendered to the maids to freshen and hang; Kevin regarded his Lady’s naked back and sighed as she covered herself with a light, indoor lounging robe. ‘The game continues?’
‘Always.’ Mara knotted her sash, ending any hopes of an interlude on her sleeping mat. Unaware that her lover entertained the idea of intimacy, she added, ‘The Emperor may have suspended the council, but the game always goes on.’
Except that it was no game at all, Kevin concluded inwardly. Not when armies entered the picture. Despite his recent decision not to become entangled in politics, he could not help but wonder what course his Lady considered this time.
Shadows painted the Imperial Palace in shades of rose, orange, and deep charcoal blue as the first sun of morning breasted the horizon. The city along the riverfront and in the poorer sections was already awake and busy, but the halls of the powerful rang only with the footfalls of servants and one patrol of warriors armoured in Acoma green.
On this, the day Mara had appointed for the meeting of Clan Hadama, she wished to be first into the Council Hall. The proceedings she had in mind must not go amiss, or her demands upon the clan would do nothing but gain her more enemies.
Lujan and a hand-picked escort of twenty men escorted Mara to the inner circle of the council, but at the point where they would normally be asked to stand and wait, the Lady of the Acoma continued to walk. After a brief hesitation, Lujan signalled to his warriors to maintain ranks. They followed their mistress down to the lower level of the chamber, and if they were startled that the Lady passed by her usual chair, they showed no sign.
In his pose as her body slave, Kevin raised one eyebrow, then chuckled to himself as he guessed his Lady’s intention. Mara crossed the open floor on the lowest level, then mounted the raised dais reserved for the Warlord during council sessions, or for the Clan Warchief during gatherings.
By now the upper dome was golden with new sunlight. Mara sat upon the elaborate ivory-inlaid throne and composed herself. Kevin stood close behind, ready to answer her needs, and as if her action had required neither courage nor audacity, her warriors arrayed themselves in a semicircle behind her position.
Kevin regarded the ranks of vacant seats from his place on the central dais, As the hall was empty but for Acoma soldiers, he spoke freely. ‘Some folks are going to have their bowels in an uproar before this day is done, Lady.’
But Mara had already assumed the air of superiority that accompanied the throne where she sat; she said nothing. She waited in her formal pose for close to three hours, until the arrival of the least-ranked members of Clan Hadama.
The Lord of the Jinguai was first to step into the Council Hall, his guard in yellow and red armour trimmed black at his back. By then the sun had risen high enough that slanting shafts lapped over the central dais. Anyone who entered could not miss the Lady on the throne, in her sparkling jewels and flowing ceremonial robes. The old man gave one surprised glance and precipitately halted. He hesitated, then smiled in genuine amusement and proceeded to his place near the back of the hall.
Kevin whispered, ‘Well, there’s one who’s ready to watch the show.’
Mara moved her decorative fan in a manner that meant he should keep his thoughts to himself. Her face remained impassive as alabaster beneath layers of thyza-powder makeup; all her nerves and excitement were invisibly pent inside.
Within the hour, another five Lords arrived. Most simply moved to their allotted place after one look in Mara’s direction. Two others conferred briefly, exchanged subdued gestures, then went on to their chairs. Noon brought in a delegation of a half-dozen Lords, with them one who numbered among the most powerful of families in Clan Hadama. Upon crossing the upper threshold, this Lord signalled to the rest, and as one body, the group came to the centre of the hall. By now the sun shone down upon the gold and ivory throne, lighting Mara like the statue of a goddess in a temple niche. Before the Warchief’s chair, the Lords paused. Rather than take seats, they clustered together, muttering among themselves.
At length one who wore deep blue moved to address the motionless woman on the throne. ‘My Lady of the Acoma -‘