Hokanu regarded the advisers with a flash in his eyes as dire as light on barbarian steel. ‘We need Arakasi back.’ The gifts of the Acoma Spy Master were many, and his ability to read through the snarl of politics and individual greed of the Nations’ myriad Ruling Lords at times approached the uncanny. ‘We need him to pursue this evidence that supports Jiro’s guilt, for the boy’s true murderer lies behind it.’ Hokanu sighed. ‘Meantime, speculation is leading us nowhere. With Tasaio of the Minwanabi gone, who dares seek the death of the Servant of the Empire?’
Saric scratched his chin in the gloom. Not without sympathy, he said, ‘Master, you are blinded by love for your wife. The common folk of the Nations may regard her as a talisman, but her exalted station invites jealousy from other hearts. Many would see the Good Servant on her way to Turakamu’s halls, simply because of her breaks with tradition, and her climb to a rank unmatched by any previous Warlord. Also there are many who see their House status lessened, and their ambitions curtailed, because she is favored by Ichindar. They would seek Mara’s dishonor … if they dared.’
Hokanu looked impatient. ‘Then who would dare?’
‘Of us all, Arakasi might know.’ Glancing at Incomo, Saric tactfully phrased the question that played upon his restless mind. ‘Is there any reason to think that your former master might be reaching from the land of the dead to strike a blow in vengeance?’
As Keyoke’s eyes hardened at this possibility, the former First Adviser to the Lord of the Minwanabi, now Second Adviser to the Lady of the Acoma, cleared his throat. He unflinchingly met the distrust that focused on him. ‘If so, I was no part of such a plot. But Tasaio was a secretive man, and dangerous. Many times he was wont to make arrangements outside my knowledge. I was often dismissed when most Lords would have commanded my attendance. The Obajan of the Hamoi Tong was seen to pay a personal visit to Tasaio. My impression at the time was that the event involved unanswered questions over the murder of Acoma spies then in Minwanabi service.’ Incomo’s long face showed unguarded distaste as he concluded, ‘Threats were exchanged, and a bargain struck. But no man alive overheard the words that passed between the Obajan and Tasaio. I can only relate that never in life did I observe the Lord of the Minwanabi so balked in his plans that he lost himself to a display of wild anger. Tasaio was many things, but he was seldom without control.’
To this, Saric added speculative observation. ‘If the former First Adviser of the Minwanabi cannot know for certain that Tasaio left orders for vengeance should he fall, I offer that we waste ourselves in guesswork. More to the point, Tasaio was not a man who ever for a moment considered defeat – as tactician he was unmatched. Given that he believed until the end that he was free to crush our Lady in open war, why should we assume that he took the coward’s path and paid death price for Mara when he gave no credence to the chance she might survive him? We should more nearly be examining the ranks of Jiro’s enemies. Mara is one of the few Rulers in the Nations with strength enough to engage him without stalemate; with Imperial support behind her, discord between Acoma and Anasati is the more likely to lead to setbacks for Lord Jiro.’
‘And yet the Anasati Lord seems eager enough to take what provocation fate and our misfortune have offered,’ Hokanu broke in. ‘He does not shrink from conflict. That does little to excuse him from culpability in the matter of Ayaki’s murder. Until my wife is able, I will presume to make this decision. Order the garrison to make ready to march. There must be war, and we dare not be caught unprepared.’
Keyoke silently inclined his head. He would not accord the situation the formality of spoken word, since this he could only do before his Lady. Yet his acquiescence in the matter showed unswerving support. Saric, who was younger and less bound to the old traditions, inclined his head in a gesture very close to the bow an adviser would offer his sworn Lord. ‘I shall make formal declaration of war upon the Anasati. When Jiro responds in kind, we shall march.’
Keyoke glanced at Irrilandi, who nodded to indicate his own endorsement of what would soon occur. Most Tsurani bloodshed was committed surreptitiously, with ambush and raid, and without public acknowledgment of responsibility. But formal battle between houses was a time honored, ceremonial event. Two armies would meet upon a field at an agreed-upon time, and one would leave victorious. No quarter was asked or given, save in rare circumstances, and again by formal rules of conduct. History held record of battles that had raged for days; it was not uncommon for both houses to be destroyed in the process.
Then Hokanu sought one further step. ‘I ask that we notify Clan Hadama.’
Saric raised his eyebrows, concerned deeply, but also intrigued by the subtleties of the suggestion. ‘You provoke an Anasati Call to Clan?’
Hokanu sighed, ‘I have an intuitive feeling –’
But Keyoke broke in with a rare interruption that supported Hokanu’s hunch. ‘Jiro is no warrior. He has Omelo for Force Commander, and though a good enough field general in his own right, he does not excel at large scale engagements. A Call to Clan is the best hope Jiro has to keep his House and army intact. We do not provoke what is likely a foregone conclusion.’
‘More,’ Incomo added. ‘Lord Jiro is a scholar at heart. He sneers at the coarseness of armed conflict. He wishes reason to declare against Mara, and has nurtured a hatred of her that extends back into his youth. But he prefers hidden attacks, and cleverness. He is a master of shah. Remember that. He will seek to ruin by subterfuge, not raw force. If we do call a Clan War first, then the possibility exists that Clan Ionani will not permit an Anasati interest to drag them to destruction. We are more than Jiro’s match in open combat. If his Clan members are behind his obsessive desires enough to escalate by accepting his slight of honor for their own, Clan Hadama will answer.’
Hokanu weighed this without much hope or enthusiasm. Whether Clan Ionani moved against them or not Lord Jiro had managed to set himself at the spearhead of other factions that had cause to undermine Mara’s strength. That his was not the only mind to perceive past this personal spat to deeper, more lasting discord had been evident by the number of Ruling Lords who turned out for Ayaki’s funeral. The High Council might be abolished, but its tradition of contention continued in secret, ferocious intensity, whenever excuse existed for the Empire’s nobles to gather. That the Black Robes had sent a contingent of five to the rites showed that their trend of intervention into the arena of intrigue was far from ended since Ichindar’s ascension to centralised power.
At last, Hokanu concluded, ‘We may have strength and allies enough to crush the Anasati, but at what cost? In the end, it may not change things. We can only hope that a swift, bloody clash on the battlefield will contain the damage, and split up the traditionalists before they can ally and organise into a united political party.’
‘Master Hokanu,’ Saric interjected at the naked look of sorrow that appeared on the Acoma consort’s face, ‘the course you have chosen is the best we have available. Rest assured that your Lady could do no better, were she capable of hearing our counsel. Now go, attend to her, for she needs you at her side. I will instruct the scribes to prepare documents and arrange for messengers to convey them to Lord Jiro’s estates.’
Looking haunted despite the relief at this unstinting statement of support, Hokanu left the hall. His stride was a warrior’s, purposeful and quick; his hands were a worried husband’s, balled into helpless fists.
Saric remained, as the other Acoma officers broke the circle and departed from the hall. Left alone in the breezeless shadows, he slapped his fist into a hand grown uncalloused since his promotion from a warrior’s ranks. He ached for those friends he had left in the barracks, and for the woman he had been called to serve, who had wholly won his support. If the Acoma acted quickly enough to end this dispute, the gods would be granting a miracle. Too many disgruntled Lords remained with too few responsibilities since the disbanding of the High Council. Peace left them too much space for mischief. The old political parties had broken up, their reason for existence canceled by Ichindar’s new rule.
The Empire was quiet, but far from settled;