‘I understand as well as any of you why this is so,’ she said. ‘Yet I also feel that political reasons are insufficient justification. After all,’ she qualified in bitter inflections, ‘conscience does not trouble us. Such is the Tsurani way, we tell ourselves. If a young girl is killed and an honourable family’s natami is turned downward in the dirt, who can argue it is not the will of the gods?’
Mara searched each face in the room, looking for adverse reaction. In the instant before the boldest rulers could raise their voice in protest, she cried, ‘I say it is not the gods’ will!’ Her words rang across the galleries, and the near to unseemly emotion that coloured them held every Lord in his chair.
‘I, Mara of the Acoma. I who forced the Lord of the Anasati to give quarter, and I who destroyed Jingu of the Minwanabi under his ancestral roof! I who have moulded the Acoma into the mightiest house in Clan Hadama! I say that we make our own destiny and seek out our own place upon the Wheel! Who here says not?’
A stir greeted this concept, and several Lords moved, as if made uncomfortable by what sounded like blasphemy. One ruler toward the rear called out, ‘Lady, you voice dangerous thoughts.’
‘We live in dangerous times,’ Mara shot back. ‘It is time for radical thinking.’
A general if reluctant agreement followed. Low-pitched grumbles deepened to a buzz of animated discussion, cut short by the Lord of the Chekowara, who barely contained his rage at being forgotten where he stood. He shouted across the general noise, ‘What do you propose, beyond usurping my office, Lady Mara?’
Jewels blazing in the sunlight that fell from the dome, Mara removed a document scroll from the depths of her sleeve. Now Kevin had to fight against his desire to express admiration at her timing. ‘Show them the carrot,’ he whispered to himself.
In the brightness of the light, the yellow-and-white ribbons that denoted a writ from the Keeper of the Imperial Seal could not be mistaken. Aware she had drawn every eye in the chamber, Mara regarded the gathering with imperious composure. ‘I have here, under official seal, an exclusive trading option granted to the Acoma.’
‘Trading option?’ ‘With whom?’ and ‘For what?’ came various queries from the galleries.
Only Lord Benshai seemed unimpressed. He stood like a mountain and glowered. ‘Did you hold a writ from the hand of the Light of Heaven himself, I would not bow to you, Lady.’
Lujan slapped a hand loudly on the grip of his sword, clear warning that no insult to his Lady would be tolerated. The Chekowara warriors bristled likewise, and aware of how real was the threat of bloodshed, Kevin sweated beneath his robes and longed for a knife to his hand.
Yet as though the tautness of her warriors were nothing more than posturing, Mara read the document aloud to the gathering. The chamber grew still as a tomb. ‘I hold the key to wealth, my Lords,’ she concluded, ‘I have exclusive rights to these goods, both import to and export from the world of Midkemia.’
A hush descended. Into a profound stillness Mara said, ‘You realize how the wholesale importation of any of these listed items, in particular those of metal, would affect your wealth?’
The silence in the Council Hall took on a strained quality. A few Lords conferred in whispers with advisers, while the ones in the highest-ranking seats slowly turned pale. The Lord of the Chekowara sent swift signal to his warriors to relax their battle-ready posture; better than any, he realized that Mara had him beaten. Had she tried force, or called upon political allies, her position might yet be in question. But as she had strength enough to equal if not best him, and, now, the certain power to undermine the finances of every family in the clan, not a Lord present would dare to support their former Warchief. A look of baffled fury on his dark face, Lord Benshai sought furiously for means to back down without disgrace.
Around him, his fellow rulers of the Hadama Clan seemed too self-absorbed by their own predicament to relish his defeat. One in the front balcony called out, ‘Lady, are you offering participation?’
Mara answered guardedly. ‘Perhaps. I may be willing to establish trading consortiums and allow others to participate — those of you who prove yourselves my kinsmen in deed as well as word.’
Many looked askance at this suggestion, and by the flurry of movement as the advisers present leaned over to whisper to their lords, the idea was not taken with enthusiasm. The Lord of the Chekowara saw his opening. In a voice well practised at persuasion, he said, ‘Mara, your proposition is well and good, but we have seen nothing to suggest trading with the barbarians is feasible, even should you hold exclusive rights from the Emperor. Besides,’ he added with a wave a father might use to reprimand a wayward girl, ‘these things change, don’t they?’