Reluctantly, the rulers in question vacated their chosen position. As they and a trickle of their vassals and allies swelled the crowd gathered behind Mara, others reacted to the shift of power in the room. More and more supporters left Tasaio’s ranks and added to the throng around Mara.
Tasaio’s features twitched with irritation. In tight tones, he said, ‘You have your stalemate, Mara, and I concede the cleverness that allows you to keep your vow to the letter, without embracing its gist. You’ve gained a few days, at most, so why not end this pretence?’
‘I do not play the Great Game this day for personal gain or glory,’ Mara interrupted. ‘For the Good of the Empire, I call on my Lord of the Tonmargu.’
From the rear of the hall, the second most powerful claimant to the Warlord’s office entered amid an honour guard of twenty. Erect despite his advanced age, he made careful progress down the stairs past Tasaio and came to stand beside Mara. If his body seemed wasted with years, his voice was still powerfully resonant. ‘By the honoured blood of my ancestors, hear my pledge. I act for the Good of the Empire.’ So saying, he mounted the dais and bowed before the dazzling figure of the Emperor. ‘Majesty,’ he intoned, ‘in the best interests of all my people, I surrender my authority to your care.’ He raised the staff that was his badge of office as Warchief of Clan lonani and handed it up to Ichindar.
Jiro started forward in rage. ‘You can’t do this!’
Lord Frasai of the Tonmargu turned up his silvered head in the direction of the young man who had inherited the mantle that had formerly been Tecuma’s. Sadly he said, ‘Son of my kinsman, you are mistaken. Ichindar is of our own blood. Dare you claim that any stands above him in our clan?’
Red-faced with fury, Jiro looked ready to argue. But a swelling roll of sound drowned his voice as excited talk broke out. Amid the commotion, two more entered the hall, Lord Kamatsu of the Shinzawai, wearing the armour of his ancestors and carrying the staff of Kanazawai, and beside him, Lord Keda, his predecessor, and another from a line with recognized claim to the Warlord’s office.
Kamatsu reached Ichindar’s dais and bowed. ‘We speak as one, and act for the Good of the Empire.’ With grand dignity for all his lack of ceremony, he surrendered his staff of office as Warchief of the Kanazawai into the hands of the gold-armoured figure on the dais.
Over a cresting murmur of surprise, Tasaio shouted, ‘This is a violation of tradition, Kamatsu!’
The Lord of the Shinzawai called this accusation down in rebuke. ‘My family is as noble as any in the Empire. We can trace our line back to the twenty-fourth Emperor and are related by blood to the Light of Heaven. Tradition says that anyone of clan lineage may hold the office of Warchief.’ He ended on a note of ringing challenge. ‘Dare you deny the blood claim of Ichindar?’
Mara said, ‘Tasaio, you may be a brilliant commander in war, but your grasp of history is deficient. Has it never occurred to you why only five families have traditionally been allowed to claim the office of Warlord, first noble of the Empire after the Light of Heaven?’
At a loss, Tasaio returned a Tsurani shrug.
‘Those first five houses, including your own, are the most directly related to the Empire’s founders!’ Mara regarded her sworn enemy with contempt. ‘If you had asked, any Master of Lore or the Keeper of the Imperial Archives could tell you. The original High Council was begun by five brothers, all of them siblings of the first Emperor!’ With a sweep of her hand, Mara concluded, ‘We all stem from the same origins, Tasaio. Trace back far enough, and one way or another, all the major families in the great clans are related.’
Lord Xacatecas spoke from Mara’s side. ‘I act for the Good of the Empire!’ He joined his two predecessors on the dais stair and handed up his staff of Xacala Warchief to the Emperor.
Gold armour flashed as Ichindar held up his hands, and all present took note that he held, not three staves, but four. Into the rising uproar, the Light of Heaven called out, ‘I received the staff of the Omechan Clan this morning, Tasaio. Take note and beware: in my province are four claims to the throne of white and gold.’
Jiro of the Anasati turned a look of naked anger upon Mara before he bowed to necessity. ‘Tasaio, fate has decreed this. I am sorry.’ So saying, the second most bitter enemy of the Acoma abandoned his position at the Lord of the Minwanabi’s side. His desertion precipitated the withdrawal of the remaining Ionani nobles, leaving Tasaio alone with a handful of vassals and cowed followers.