Mara interrupted him. ‘You have something to say to me, my Lord of the Poltapara?’
The man seemed about to bridle; like a bird in full plumage in his finery, he puffed out his chest, then measured the Lady on the dais. Her gaze did not waver, and the soldiers at her back stayed statue-still. Yet in the culture of Tsuranuanni, such brazen lack of reaction became an emphatic statement. The Lord cleared his throat. ‘Are you well, Lady?’
Mara smiled at his polite capitulation. ‘I am, indeed, my Lord. Are you well?’
The man in blue acquiesced, then nonchalantly returned to conversation with his fellows. Kevin spoke sotto voce, ‘One down.’
‘No,’ Mara corrected, hiding relief behind a flutter of her fan. ‘Six down. The Lord who greeted me ranks above the others, two of whom are his vassals. The other three are sworn allies, and since they are still speaking to one another, all will defer to his choice.’
The victory was telling, for as more Lords entered, they saw that one of the more powerful families had accepted Mara’s position ahead of them. Plainly unwilling to challenge her popularity, they gave her greeting and assumed their places with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Then the formerly acknowledged Warchief, Lord Benshai of the Chekowara, swept into the hall, his colourful robes billowing like sails around his voluminous body. Deep in conversation with one of his advisers, and entrenched in his own self-importance, he was halfway down the stair to the lower floor before he noticed the figure who occupied his accustomed throne.
He stopped dead for the briefest moment, his eyes widening in his dark face. Then he gestured to his garrulous adviser to be silent and moved his bulk the remaining ten steps at surprising speed to confront the Lady of the Acoma.
Kevin restrained his comment, for Mara’s tactic was now plain. Despite the fact that early arrivals were for lesser-ranked rulers, anyone on the floor below who stood looking up at the person in the seat of primacy was set at a disadvantage.
‘Lady Mara -‘ began the Lord of the Chekowara.
Mara cut him off. ‘I am well, my Lord. Are you well?’
Several lesser nobles in the clan smothered smiles. Mara’s answer to a question not asked lent the impression the Warchief of the clan had conceded her position as superior to his own.
The Lord Benshai spluttered and strove to recover. ‘That’s not what -‘
Mara interrupted again. ‘That’s not what, my Lord? Forgive me, I assumed you were being mannerly.’
But a man accustomed to power could not long be put off by adept verbiage. In a tone of ringing authority, Lord Benshai called, ‘Lady, you sit upon my dais.’
The Lady of the Acoma returned her most penetrating gaze. In a voice of equal command, that none in the chamber could miss hearing, she pronounced, ‘I think not, my Lord!’
Lord Benshai of the Chekowara drew himself up to his full height. Ivory ornaments rattled at his wrists and neck as he bristled. ‘How dare you!’
‘Silence!’ Mara demanded, and the rest in the room obeyed.
Their compliance was not lost on Lord Benshai. He twisted his short neck and glared at the Lords who had failed in their support of him. Pride alone kept his posture from wilting. Not just to the Lord of the Chekowara, but to all in the gathering, Mara announced, ‘The time has come for plain speaking, kinsmen.’
Now profound stillness fell over the vast hall. Terms relating to blood ties were rarely used in public, for Tsurani set great store upon relationships. Any claim of kinship, however vague, was considered both important and personal. Although all in the clan shared blood ties in the far distant past, the relationships had grown tenuous with time and were never stressed lest implications of debt or honour be implied.
As if the Lord of the Chekowara did not stand nonplussed at the foot of the dais, Mara continued to address the Lords in the galleries. ‘By fate’s ruling, you are members of a clan long considered steeped in honour’ — as many in the hall murmured agreement, Mara’s tone punched through — ‘but lacking power.’ Voices fell silent. ‘My father was considered among those most noble Lords in the Empire.’ Again several rulers in the hall concurred. ‘Yet when his daughter faced powerful enemies alone, not one kinsman sought to lend even token support.’
No one spoke as Mara surveyed the galleries.