One of these abruptly turned away. As he stepped down the stair toward the gathering around the dais, Tasaio gave way to rage. ‘Bruli of the Kehotara! You disgrace the memory of your father! He gave a generation of honourable service to the Minwanabi, and in your cowardice his steadfastness is shamed!’
Handsome as few men could be in cumbersome formal trappings, Bruli spun lightly on his heel. ‘Shamed, you say! That is an insult from one whose family once sought to use me as an instrument to destroy the Lady Mara. Neither you nor Desio condescended to treat me, your vaunted vassal, as generously as this Lady at the time she defeated me.’ Bruli spat in contempt toward the stair where Tasaio stood. ‘I am done with the Minwanabi.’
‘I will see the lands of your ancestors sown with salt, and your natami shattered!’ screamed Tasaio in a surfeit of rage.
The threat left Lord Bruli unfazed. He moved off without a look back until he reached the floor beside Mara. There, in public, he bowed. ‘Some may say you have deserted family honour this day, Lady Mara.’ Then he smiled. ‘I think not. Despite our past differences, I believe in my heart that you truly do serve the Empire, Lady. May peace hold between us from this day forward.’
Mara smiled in return. ‘Before the High Council, I acknowledge friendship between the Kehotara and the Acoma.’
Tasaio’s eyes blazed with frustration. ‘You may have played into Ichindar’s hands, Mara, but this is not the end. I’ve given my word that you may return safely to your home, but the moment my scouts bring news that you’ve set foot upon Acoma soil, then shall I unleash the might of the Minwanabi upon you. More.’ He spun in command upon those still behind him and cried, ‘I call upon Clan Honour! The Acoma have disgraced the Empire and Clan Shonshoni! Let war come to Clan Hadama!’
Ichindar said, ‘I forbid this!’
Tasaio’s smile twisted with overweening malice. ‘I have fifty thousand soldiers ready to march at my command.’ Although the baring of blades was deplored within the great hall, he flouted custom and drew his sword for emphasis. The rare metal blade caught the light like fire, while an uproar swept across the hall. Over the clamour, in his commander’s shout, Tasaio cried, if you seek to make an end to this, Ichindar, let us do so on the field of war! Will your supporters stand with you then?’ demanded Tasaio, his face flushed in challenge.
Mara felt a chill pierce her being. Before her stood a madman who would see his civilization reduced to ashes rather than suffer a rival to claim victory. Numbed by the sight of her worst nightmare made real, and stabbed through by recognition that her hope had been ground down by the caprice of the gods, she closed her eyes to hide her anguish. Because of her pride, and her ill-founded attempt to wrest the course of the future into a new mould, more than the Acoma would fall. With her she dragged down the best among the mighty, and in that most terrible recognition came the personal grief that Ayaki would die before manhood, and Kevin’s unborn child might never know the chance to draw breath.
Mara felt withered by responsibility, for in cold truth, this impasse had happened because of her. Her acts had brought her nation to civil war.
Numbly she heard Ichindar murmur words of apologetic consternation. Too devastated to speak, she turned to bow to his better grace. Seeing the young man standing without sign of fear, Mara forced herself to speak. ‘The Acoma are yours to command, my Emperor.’ At once many Lords pledged support, or made a display of putting distance between themselves and their neighbours; bloody chaos was too close at hand not to make it clear where one stood. Those who wished no part in the coming clash sought to escape being swept along.
That instant, a voice from the edge of the chamber rang out in absolute command. ‘There shall be no conflict!’
The uproar died. Mara snapped her eyes open to find silence as the nobles surrounding her looked upward in disbelief. Dozens of black-robed figures descended into the hall in a ring through every entrance and side door. Eerily silent, and contested by none, the Great Ones of the Assembly advanced down the steps to the lowest floor of the High Council.
The whim of the magicians was as law, even above the might of armies. Mindful of the havoc unleashed by just one man trained to the black in the arena, no Lord present was fool enough to stand against the will of the Assembly. Tasaio stood frozen in abject fury, fully aware that he had lost. The last colour drained from his features as he resheathed his sword in disgrace.