Servant of the Empire

Tasaio cried out in heartfelt appeal to the council Lords. ‘To deal with foreign powers, we must be strong! We suffered shame because Almecho lacked the courage to forge a million swords into one weapon wielded by a single, strong hand!’ Looking in scorn upon the young Emperor in his many layers of finery, then down at the diminutive Lady at his feet, the Lord of the Minwanabi gestured in outright scorn. ‘It is time.’

 

 

Mara returned his hard look without flinching. Before all she said, ‘I gave my vow that I would see no other upon the throne of white and gold before you, Tasaio. Behold, the ivory and gold seat has been removed. By this you will see that I keep my sworn word of honour. No one shall sit upon that throne before you, Tasaio.’

 

A murmur swept the packed galleries, and Tasaio’s lips twisted with rage. Yet before he could manage rejoinder, a voice near the front ranks called out. ‘I will let my choice be known.’

 

All eyes turned to observe as Jiro of the Anasati arose from his seat and crossed to a point midway between the Emperor on the dais and the figure in orange armour on the stair. After a moment of dramatic confrontation, he moved to stand beside the Lord of the Minwanabi. From there he directed a triumphant sneer at Mara. ‘Lady, this settles an old debt between us. Perhaps my brother’s shade will find rest in the knowledge his murderer has been punished.’

 

Mara suddenly felt every hour of missed sleep and the ache of every dashed hope. The error she had made was now past all chance of remedy. Again she had underestimated Jiro’s thirst for revenge and placed too much stock in his ambition. Still, like her father, she faced defeat with a fighting spirit. ‘You think to support Tasaio now,’ she called with a derision that carried to the uppermost tier of the galleries. ‘Is it your intent to catch him weakened after he spends himself destroying me?’

 

The conjecture was preposterous, given the current Minwanabi ascendance. Jiro simply smiled and looked at Tasaio. ‘I stand with the new Warlord, for order must be restored to the Empire.’

 

The words touched off a wave of motion as a score of Lords joined Jiro’s bid to reestablish the old ways. They rose in a rustle of robes to array themselves behind Tasaio, until the stairway where he stood became packed, and then overflowed into the adjacent ranks of seats. Some Lords were trapped in the press, and no small number lost the spirit to fight against the prevailing surge, to win free of the crowd. Their numbers added to those of the truly dedicated, forming a formidable wedge of support behind the Minwanabi Lord.

 

Yet Mara persisted, against reason. ‘My Lord Xacatecas?’

 

Hoppara of the Xacatecas stood and crossed to stand with her beneath the Emperor. A score of loyal Clan Xacala nobles joined him, their features grimly determined.

 

Lord Iliando of the Bontura came to Mara’s side. Then members of the Clan Kanazawai entered the field, ringing the central dais.

 

Still, these gains were rendered impotent at a stroke, as most of the Clan Ionani moved to stand with Tasaio. The few members of the Omechan who had attended divided evenly.

 

When all the Lords in attendance had taken sides, the majority backed Tasaio. Lounging at ease against a railing, his expression suavely assured, he turned languid eyes to his enemy. ‘Well, Mara? Is this the best you can do?’

 

Less showy, but every bit as commanding in presence, Mara squared her shoulders. ‘Lord Jidu of the Tuscalora, you have sworn allegiance to me.’

 

The recalcitrant vassal, who had thought to hide himself to the rear of the Minwanabi faction, shamefacedly removed himself from the stair. Compelled to apologize profusely as he squeezed his corpulent body through the press, he arrived at Mara’s camp red-faced and sweating with embarrassment.

 

Mara paid his discomfort no heed. ‘Lord Randala,’ she cried. ‘You have sworn me a vote in council. I now call that debt.’

 

A major Lord in Clan Xacala, and a potential rival to the young Lord of the Xacatecas for the office of Warchief, the sandy-haired ruler of the Xosai removed himself from Tasaio’s side of the hall. Two other Xacala Lords abandoned other allies and followed. After them came another man from the upper galleries, armoured in scarlet and brown. ‘Let all know that Tasaio of the Minwanabi used the honourable name of the Hanqu in an attempt to ruin the Acoma. I take offence at such presumption, and cast my lot with the Lady.’

 

Accorded unexpected satisfaction from the disastrous past ambush in the glen, Mara advanced onto the lowest stair of the dais. To all present she announced, ‘Never again will a noble of the Empire wear the office of Warlord.’ As a stir threatened to drown out her words, she looked pointedly to five others who stood with her family’s blood enemy. ‘My Lords, all of you have committed one vote of my choosing. I call in the debt at this time.’

 

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