The Spy Master wiped at his face and his hand came away red. He managed the ghost of a grin. ‘I dare say I do.’
Mara struggled with partial success to regain her poise. Reaction left her giddy. ‘You have to be the first man to wear the plumes of an Acoma officer who does not know the edge from the flat of the blade. I am afraid Shimizu will sport a bruise as handsome as any he gave you, come morning.’
Arakasi shrugged, his expression caught between triumph and deep personal grief. ‘Had he lived, Papewaio intended to improve my technique. His shade will have to be satisfied with the ruin of the Minwanabi instead.’ Then, as if he had admitted a grief he might rather have kept to himself, the Spy Master silently helped his mistress to her feet.
Voices sounded in the corridor. Indignant and shrill, the words of Jingu and his son Desio carried clearly over the confused tones of the guests. Mara straightened her disarranged robes. She bent, dislodged Shimizu’s sword from the carry box, and met the crowd of nobles and servants as a true daughter of the Acoma.
Jingu stamped explosively through the opened screen. ‘What has happened here?’ He stopped, open-mouthed at the sight of his prone Strike Leader, then glared wrathfully at the Lady of the Acoma. ‘You have brought treachery to my house.’
Onlookers crowded around, their clothing disarrayed from their hasty rush from their sleeping mats. Mara ignored them. She bowed with formal grace and placed Shimizu’s sword at the feet of the Lord of the Minwanabi. ‘I swear by my life and the name of my ancestors that the treachery done is not mine. Your concubine Teani tried to kill me, and for love of her your Strike Leader Shimizu lost his wits. My honour guard, Arakasi, was forced to intervene. He barely saved my life. Is this the way the Minwanabi answer for the safety of their guests?’
A murmur arose from the onlookers, the voice of the Lord of the Ekamchi loudest among them. ‘The warrior is not dead! When he rouses, he might say the Acoma tell lies under oath.’
Jingu gestured irritably for silence. He glared at Mara with pale, cold eyes. ‘As my servant Teani lies dead on the tiles below, I would hear what my officer Shimizu has to say upon this matter.’
Mara gave no sign that, by implying that she had lied under oath, Jingu had offered gravest insult. No honour could be gained by reacting to the words of a condemned man; and all present understood that if Mara’s charge were proved, the Lord of the Minwanabi would have no standing among them. His honour would be as dust, and his influence in the Game of the Council come to nothing.
‘My First Adviser, Nacoya, witnessed the attack by the concubine.’ Mara summoned every scrap of poise she had learned from the sisters at the temple. ‘Your own Strike Leader had to defend me to protect your honour. Had Teani not fallen to her death below, I would have had to kill her with my own hands to save myself.’
Someone by the door murmured a comment in her favour. Outraged, Desio pushed forward, only to be shoved aside by the hand of his father. Jingu dared a smile, like a dog who has stolen meat and escaped receiving the blame. ‘Lady Mara, if you have no other witness, you have no accusation to make. For if Shimizu says that you attacked Teani, and he came to her defence, and you say that Teani attacked you, and Arakasi came to yours, the case rests upon the word of your First Adviser against that of my Strike Leader. They are of equal rank, and by law their word carries equal weight. Who among us can determine which of them is lying?’
Mara had no answer. Frustrated, aching, and furious to discover herself unable to prove the truth, she regarded the enemy who had ruined her father and brother, and whose ancestors had caused her ancestors generation after generation of grief. Her face showed no expression as she said, ‘You balance the honour of the Minwanabi upon a slender thread, Lord Jingu. One day soon it will snap.’
Jingu laughed, a full-throated sound that eclipsed a smaller disturbance by the entrance. Mara saw beyond him and felt a moment of triumph so fierce it felt like the pain of a sword withdrawn. Through the screen, parting a way through the packed bodies of the onlookers, came Nacoya. Behind her walked Almecho with two black-robed figures at his side.
The Warlord glanced about the room, observing the mayhem that had visited the guest suite given to Mara. ‘By the gods,’ he exclaimed with a laugh, ‘what has occurred? A storm in the house, from the look of things.’
Jingu returned a bitter smile. ‘An attack, my Lord, but there seems little agreement on just who assaulted whom first.’ He added a theatrical shrug. ‘I’m afraid we’ll never get to the heart of this, as Lady Mara’s First Adviser – out of admirable if misplaced loyalty – will lie to support her Lady’s tale. It will be her word against Shimizu’s. I expect we’ll have to let the entire matter pass.’
Almecho’s eyebrows rose in malicious reproof. ‘Oh, really? I don’t think we need let any slight of honour pass, Jingu. Just so there is no cloud on your good name – not to mention any shame to spoil my birthday celebration – I’ll ask my companions to lend a hand.’ He turned to the two black-robed figures at his side and spoke to the first. ‘Elgahar, can you sort this matter out?’
A dispassionate voice answered. ‘Of course, my Lord.’ As Jingu’s face drained of colour, the magician continued, ‘We can prove without doubt who is lying and who is speaking truth.’
Almecho’s eyes travelled from Lady Mara’s face to Jingu’s with poisonous amusement. ‘Good,’ he said softly. ‘Let us separate the guilty from the innocent.’
Elgahar demanded silence.
Conversations fell to a murmur, then subsided to total stillness as the guests of the Lord of the Minwanabi crowded themselves into the room where Teani had fallen to her death. Shimizu had regained consciousness. Seated now at the feet of his Lord, he regarded the Great One with impassive eyes.
Mara sat opposite, Nacoya and Arakasi at her side. Her honour guard had cleaned the blood from his face, but he had made no other effort to refresh himself. A few of the guests had sent slaves to bring robes to cover their sleeping attire, but most had not troubled with appearances. Piqued by curiosity, all waited with keen anticipation for the demonstration of the Great One’s magic.
The moon shone brightly over the broken rail of the gallery. Bathed in its coppery light, the Great One lowered his arms. ‘I will require clear space around all areas where the action occurred, and no people standing in the doorway.’
Sandals shuffled on waxed wood as the guests did Elgahar’s bidding. The Warlord placed himself behind the Lord of the Minwanabi, and Mara saw him lean down and whisper. Jingu returned what was meant as an offhand smile, but the result was forced and stiff. No Lord in the Empire truly understood the powers of those in the Assembly of Magicians; the ability of this Great One to cast a spell for truth seemed to bring little comfort to the Lord of the Minwanabi. The magic might easily catch Mara in a lie, and then the Acoma would be ruined, but other possibilities occurred to Jingu. Teani’s unpredictable nature had been part of her appeal to him; and her hatred of Mara was no secret.
The Great One positioned himself by the door. His robes blended like ink into shadow, leaving his face and hands visible as a pale blur. When he spoke, his words rang like a voice beyond the bounds of human understanding. The innocent, the guilty, and onlookers alike shrank from the sound. ‘We stand upon the site of violent acts,’ Elgahar said to those gathered to witness his magic. ‘Resonance of intense passion creates echoes in the other-world, that state of energy which parallels reality. My spell shall call forth these echoes in visible form, and all eyes will see what occurred between the servants of the Minwanabi and his guest, Mara of the Acoma.’
He fell silent. The hood eclipsed his features as he stood for a moment in total stillness, then