That Ichindar considered tradition ahead of his own personal safety suggested much. This slender, solemn-faced young ruler was not greedy for absolute power; neither was he too timid to embrace bold concepts in the light of pending crisis. Admiring the maturity and courage apparent in one so physically slight, Mara said, ‘Much of what you have done, Majesty, is also unprecedented.’
Ichindar inclined his head, the long, golden plumes of his headdress swaying as he nodded a stately acquiescence. Enveloped in elaborate layers of robes, he sat with painful formality, his face already marked by the ruler’s burdens. Green eyes in dark hollows and cheeks gaunt from sleepless nights marred what should have been a carefree visage. Beneath the jewels, and pomp, Mara perceived a spirit beaten down with worry. Young he might be, but the Light of Heaven was aware that he stood upon ground more perilous than quicksand. He held no delusions. His strength stemmed from the incalculable reverence the Tsurani people held for his office, but although deep-seated, such sentiment was far from limitless. Although uncommon among Ichindar’s ninety predecessors, regicide was not unheard of.
The Emperor’s death was considered proof unto itself that the gods had already withdrawn their blessing from the Empire. Circumstances must already be disastrous for any but the most ambitious of Lords to attempt such a deed. Yet Mara knew Tasaio harboured just such ambition. And there were those, this day, who considered abolishment of the Warlord’s office a dire enough offence against tradition to justify such an act.
Aware of the perils she invited by encouraging a course that departed further from the familiar, Mara raised her eyes to the enthroned figure on the dais. ‘Majesty, I offer only hope. I can stem Minwanabi’s ambition alone, but only at great cost. Tasaio would have to be granted the Warlord’s title. A peaceful succession to the white and gold might send these armies outside Kentosani home in peace. I submit to you this is an easy choice. Take it, and you may retire from the Great Game, return to the High Council its licence to act, and retire to your divine contemplations. But all personal feuds and differences aside, I submit that this course would only buy time. A Minwanabi on the Warlord’s throne would lead to a future of strife.
‘I believe the chance exists, here and now, for permanent change – an end, perhaps, to the needless bloodshed that riddles our concept of politics. I believe that honour need not be rooted in killing for supremacy. Our moment to instil a more compassionate governance may never come again in our lifetimes. Humbly, I implore you: think what that could mean.’
The Emperor’s green eyes regarded her piercingly, even from his place high upon his dais. When he did not offer opinion, the priest of Juran the Just arose from his seat; a flick of one thin hand from the enthroned figure allowed him permission to speak.
‘Mara of the Acoma, does it occur to you that your words might not be pleasing to heaven? Yours is an old and esteemed name, and yet you appear to have laid aside your family honour. You pledge one thing to Tasaio of the Minwanabi, but even now you seek to forswear a most sacred vow.’
Mara knew a terrible, invasive shadow of fear. The perils of inciting accusation of heresy were not far from her mind, so she directed her reply solely to the Light of Heaven. ‘If I have laid aside the blessing of my ancestors, I say this is my own affair. I have transgressed no laws, nor offended heaven. In all that I have done, through all that I implore you to consider, I act for the Good of the Empire.’ She shifted her regard to the priest as she added, ‘Even if I should dishonour my family’s name, this I would willingly do to serve the Empire.’
A stillness greeted this statement, and then a stir of murmurs from the handful of advisers and priests. The representative from Juran’s temple sat down with a look distinctly shaken.
The Light of Heaven turned wide, intelligent eyes upon the lady who stood in erect defiance at the foot of his throne. After an interval of unhurried thought, he gestured to his priests. ‘Let none present impute disgrace to the Lady. She does no shame to her house and name, but honours the Empire with her courage and service. For who else among our thousands of Ruling Lords has dared to approach us with this truth?’