Tears flooded her eyes as she saw that two were children. Servants had tried to make them look presentable, but their fresh wounds could not be hidden. Tasaio had cut their young throats. Sickened by the thought that the boy might have been her own Ayaki, Mara felt Lujan reach out and steady her arm.
‘I would have spared them,’ she murmured numbly.
The Great One regarded her with sorrow. ‘The Minwanabi line is ended, Lady Mara. The Assembly officially stood as witness. Now that my charge is complete, I will excuse myself. Live a long life, and a happy one, great Lady.’
Hochopepa reached into his pocket, where he kept his talisman of transport. A buzzing sounded upon the air, and he was gone.
Mara was left at a loss before the host of former Minwanabi retainers who still survived. The first six rows of people had all donned grey robes of slavery. Behind were ranks of soldiers, with weapons and helms stacked at their feet, and heads bowed in defeat.
An ancient man, garbed as a slave but aristocratic in bearing, stepped forward and prostrated himself before Mara. ‘My Lady,’ he intoned respectfully.
‘Speak,’ the Lady bade him.
‘I am Incomo, former First Adviser to Lord Minwanabi. I present myself to assist you in whatever dispensation you decree for all of us who served that unlucky house.’
‘Their fates are not mine to dispense,’ Mara whispered, still shaken by the bodies of the dead children.
Incomo looked up, emptiness in his dark eyes. ‘Lady, my former Lord commanded all blood relatives to their ancestral home. He ordered and saw each kinsman kill his own wives and children, then fall upon his sword, in turn. But he waited until an hour ago, when he heard you had set foot upon Minwanabi soil, before he took the lives of his own family. Only when they were dead did he fall upon his sword.’ Trembling in abject fear, Incomo performed his last duty to his master. ‘Lord Tasaio bade me tell you that he would rather see his children in death’s hall at his side than live in an Acoma house.’
Mara felt a stab of horror. ‘That murderous animal! His own children!’ Blind rage shook through her, then dwindled to grief as she again regarded the small forms of the little boy and girl upon the bier. ‘Grant them full honours,’ she said softly. ‘A great name ends this day.’
Incomo bowed. ‘I am your slave, mistress, for I have failed my master. But I beg you, have mercy, for I am old and ill suited for labour. Grant me the boon of honourable death.’
Mara almost snarled in her outrage as she said, ‘No!’ Her eyes bored into the startled man as she cried, ‘Stand up!’
Stunned by her unseemly emotion, Incomo was taken aback.
Mara could not bear the sight of his subservient attitude an instant longer. Taking his arm in a surprisingly strong grip, she pulled the elderly adviser to his feet. ‘You were never sold into slavery by Tasaio, were you?’ Incomo couldn’t speak, he was so taken off guard. ‘You were never ordered into slavery by an imperial court, were you?’
‘No, Lady, but -‘
‘Who calls you a slave?’ Her disgust was palpable as she half dragged the old man to where her own advisers stood. To Saric, wearing an adviser’s formal robes, she said, ‘Your training under Nacoya was sorrowfully cut short. Take this man as your honoured assistant, and heed him well. His name is Incomo, and as all of Tasaio’s former enemies know, he gives competent counsel.’
The old man gaped at his new mistress, who smiled at him in a surprisingly friendly way. She looked from his astonishment to a wry, nearly laughing Saric and said, ‘If you have ambitions to become my First Adviser, you will listen to whatever this wise old man may tell you.’
Mara turned away and the former Minwanabi adviser said, ‘Master, what is this?’
Saric chuckled. ‘You’ll discover that our mistress has her own way of doing things, Incomo. You’ll also find you’ve been given a new life.’
‘But freeing a slave?’
At this Mara spun back in a fury. ‘You were never pronounced a slave! In my house you never will be. It is tradition that made freemen slaves when their masters fell, not the law. Now serve me well, and cease this discussion.’
As she moved on, Saric raised eyebrows in his personal brand of bemusement. ‘She is a Servant of the Empire. Who will say no to her if she changes another tradition?’