With a droop to her shoulders that was not feigned, Mara drew a tired breath, ‘I bring you a proposal.’
Tasaio took a half-step forward. Uncannily composed, and beautiful as a predator, he did not twitch a muscle at the sound as a hundred Acoma soldiers slapped hands upon their sword hilts. Reckless in his disdain, the Lord of the Minwanabi said, ‘I have no interest in listening, Mara. My predecessor swore blood oath to Turakamu that this feud would end in Acoma obliteration. While I lack Desio’s passions and count the pledge regrettable, still I am bound to it. I must see the Acoma line ended. The alternative need not be discussed. There can be no cessation to our conflict.’
Mara sensed Arakasi’s alarm, but she could see no other way beyond this impasse. ‘Would you consider . . . a suspension?’
Caught by surprise, Tasaio blinked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Quarter. No end to our enmity – that will never abate until one family or the other is dust—but a postponement of conflict, until the Empire is once again on a firm footing for peace?’
‘The Good of the Empire,’ Tasaio murmured. His humour was cutting. Intrigued despite his sarcasm, he added, ‘Say on.’
‘I propose a meeting with the Ruling Lords of the Empire, but in the Imperial Palace. There we confront the Light of Heaven with our need to resolve this confrontation and prevent a crisis that will plunge our land into ruin. Or would you wish to govern an Empire where the eastern frontier is dominated by Thuril captains and their marauding high-landers? A northern border overrun each spring by Thun raiders seeking Tsurani heads as trophies? A return of pirates to the Outpost Isles?’
‘You do paint a bleak picture,’ Tasaio allowed. ‘If I agree to this meeting, you’ll deliver the votes needed to grant me the Warlord’s throne without bloodshed?’
‘Should you agree to meet with the Emperor, peacefully, I will pledge to make every effort, to the last of my resources, to ensure no one ascends to the Warlord’s throne before you.’ Mara drew a shaky breath. ‘Upon this you have my most holy oath, sworn upon my family’s name and honour, from now to the last generation of the Acoma line.’
Tasaio raised his eyebrows at this most sacred of vows. A sceptical twinge of malice coloured his tone. ‘If any of your descendants are worth swearing by, how long a truce would you wish?’
Although offered the most mortal of insults, Mara steeled herself against irrational anger. More than her family’s name was at stake here, and more than the affairs of nobles – servants, children, craftsmen, and thousands of nameless slaves would suffer if the Empire’s rulers were to indulge in a senseless war. Changed from the woman of limited perspective that she had once been, Mara did what she could not have conceived of prior to being influenced by Kevin’s foreign ideas: more, she swallowed her family’s honour. Rather than merely a phrase, to serve the Empire was now her only guiding motive. Swallowing mortification, she said, ‘Hold off your final assault until I have returned home and seen to the affairs of my house. After that, let our struggle resume without stint until the bitterest end.’
Her tone of capitulation drew a bright laugh from Tasaio. Unable to resist toying with the vulnerability she had exposed, he said, ‘Already you presume to guess my answer, Lady. You overestimate my love of the Empire. My honour is my own, not my nation’s.’ He looked her avidly up and down to see if she showed discomfort.
But Mara was familiar with his malice. She revealed not the slightest hint of discomfort to gratify his lust for torment.
After apparent thought, Tasaio amended, ‘However, a quick solution to my accession to the white and gold would spare me a certain degree of bother.’ He smiled, and Mara saw how well this madman could mask his depravity behind military propriety and courtly manners. ‘I will agree. Let the High Council meet before the Light of Heaven and have an end to his dictatorial rule. You shall marshal your allies, and when the moment comes, you will have them support my claim. Then, when such things as fate requires are finished, you shall have my safe conduct back to your estates until you have put your affairs in order. Be sure that I will march against you, Mara, but until then you may count the hours you live as payment for your service to the Empire.’
Drained, and feeling desolate beyond words, Mara sealed her pledge with a bow. She dared not wonder how her father or brother would have reacted, were they alive to know of her commitment. All she could hope was that war might be averted, lives might be spared, and the unborn child within her womb might be permitted enough time to achieve birth. Whether she and Ayaki died for the pact she sealed this moment, perhaps the cho-ja Queen would consent to keep one newborn infant alive in secret . . .