The Complete Empire Trilogy

by Raymond E. Feist

  The oppressive weather made even fidgeting uncomfortable. Mara spent restless hours at her writing desk, penning notes to her various allies. Only missives sent to Jiro of the Anasati remained unanswered, which came as no surprise. Mara sighed and reached for another parchment, then checked the next name on her chalk slate. She dipped her nib, and the soft scratch of her pen wore away yet another afternoon.

  Kevin tended to wilt in the heavy, moist air of the wet season. Less volatile than Mara when it came to intangible matters, he lay dozing upon a mat in the corner of her study, lulled by the soft tap of rain from the eaves, or by the scrape of Mara’s pen. Into the grey-green gloom that lingered from yet another shower came a shadow.

  Mara started upright, her breath stopped in her throat. Her movement roused Kevin, who scrambled up on a fighter’s reflex, his big hands grasping for a sword that was not there.

  Then the Midkemian relaxed with a self-deprecating chuckle. ‘Gods, man, you gave me a fright.’

  Arakasi stepped in from the rain, a heavy black robe slapping around his calves. His sandals were sodden, and slicked with bits of grass, which meant he had come in by way of the needra pastures.

  Mara subsided in relief. ‘You took long enough to get here.’

  The Spy Master bowed, a silvery fringe of droplets falling off his hood and running down his aquiline nose. ‘Mistress, I was very far afield when your recall reached me.’

  Mara clapped for her maid. ‘Towels,’ she demanded. ‘And a dry robe, at once.’ She motioned for her Spy Master to sit and help himself to a cup of chocha from the tray at her side.

  Arakasi poured himself a steaming drink, then bent a keen gaze on his mistress. ‘Lady, I ask that you not tell anyone I am back. I slipped past your guards and took pains not to be seen.’

  Which explained the pasture grass caught in his sandals, but not the reason behind it. When Arakasi did not elaborate on his own initiative, Mara was forced to make inquiry.

  Her Spy Master twisted the fine porcelain cup in his hands in uncharacteristic agitation. He frowned, thought, and ignored the towels and dry clothing left for him by the maid. Still in his black, and still dripping, he said, ‘My informants … Something may be amiss. The possibility exists that we’ve been compromised.’

  Mara raised her eyebrows and with unerring intuition, tracked his thought to a long-past event. ‘The ambush set for Keyoke?’

  Arakasi nodded. ‘I think the late Lord Desio let our man escape at the time, to lull me into believing our other agents in the Minwanabi household were undetected. If so, then the promotion of one of my men to Tasaio’s personal service …’

  ‘Is suspect?’ Mara finished as his words trailed off. She waved her hand in dismissal. ‘Deal with that problem as you wish. If you think a Minwanabi spy may have insinuated himself upon my lands, dig him out. At this moment, I wish to know what actually happened in Kentosani.’

  Arakasi sipped at his chocha. For an interval he seemed reluctant to leave the subject of a possible breach in his network, but as Kevin had settled back in his corner, and as Mara seemed rarely out of patience, the Spy Master turned to the requested subject. ‘Much occurred, but little was public’ Arakasi put down his cup so softly the china made no sound. ‘I lost an agent in the fighting.’

  Mara did not know the man who had died, and never would, but he was an Acoma servant. She bowed her head in respect, as she might at the word that one of her warriors had lost his life in her service.

  Arakasi shrugged with none of his usual lightness. ‘The man was simply at the wrong place when the fighting started. He was killed by a stray arrow, but the loss was regrettable. Candidates for posts in the Imperial Palace are carefully screened, and he will be very difficult to replace.’

  The Spy Master was taking the loss personally, Mara realized, and despite her wish that he would address the matter directly, his lapse was unusual enough that she waited for him to resume of his own accord.

  Arakasi tucked folded hands under the cuffs of his robe and seemed to come back to himself. Briskly he said, ‘In any event, the magician Milamber, though banished from the ranks of the Great Ones, has returned by way of a rift.’

  ‘Where is this rift?’ Kevin interjected, suddenly not half so sleepy as he appeared.

  Mara frowned at him, but it was Arakasi’s look of withering scorn that caused the Midkemian to fall silent. ‘I do not know yet,’ the Spy Master conceded pointedly to his mistress. ‘Milamber was taken captive in the city of Ontoset, by two magicians who served Axantucar. He, two companions from his homeworld, and another Great One were taken under guard to the Imperial Palace.’

  Mara interrupted. ‘The Warlord took a Great One prisoner?’

  ‘It could be argued that the two Great Ones restrained one of their fellows,’ Arakasi corrected dryly. ‘About the Warlord little is known, though speculation abounds. At a guess, Axantucar was not content to wear the white and gold. He may have been harbouring greater ambitions.’

  ‘Murder the Emperor?’ Mara cut in. ‘There were rumours that someone tried poison.’

  ‘Half of such hearsay is true.’ Arakasi tapped his fingers, and water puddled from his sleeves onto the polished wood floor. ‘Ichindar gave that reason for the execution. And since one of Axantucar’s pet Great Ones turned in his loyalties and brought testimony, who can doubt the truth of the issue?’

  Mara’s eyes opened at that. ‘A Great One denounced him?’

  ‘More.’ Warming to his subject at last, Arakasi qualified. ‘Two Great Ones, brothers, lent their aid to this Warlord, as they had to his uncle.’ Mara nodded. She remembered the pair well, as they had been instrumental in proving her innocence in the tangle of conflicting accusations that had culminated in the ruin of Jingu of the Minwanabi.

  Arakasi continued. ‘Brother turned against brother, with one Great One now dead, and the other publicly denouncing all who conspired against Ichindar. At the moment no one moves in the Great Game, for fear of retribution. But for our own part, I judge this a time for caution. If Tasaio believes himself to be the most powerful among the Lords of the Empire, he may choose to strike.’

  Mara held up her hand for silence while she thought. After a moment filled with the sound of rain dripping from the eaves, she said, ‘No. Not now. Tasaio is too clever to attempt to steal a march when so many swords are unsheathed. Who commands the garrison at the Imperial Palace?’

  ‘Kamatsu of the Shinzawai,’ Arakasi replied. ‘He acts as the Emperor’s Force Commander, though he wears the armour of a Kanazawai Warchief, not the Imperial White.’

  Mara’s brow furrowed as she weighed political ramifications. ‘So, for the moment we may surmise that the Alliance for War is done, with the War Party shattered as well, since only the Minwanabi dominate that faction.’ She tapped her chin with a finger, then said, ‘We can assume Jiro of the Anasati will distance himself from both the Omechan and Tasaio, and that the Anasati and other families of Clan Ionani will turn firmly back into the fold of the Imperial Party. No, the Blue Wheel may not be the most powerful faction, but they sit at the Emperor’s right hand, and at this juncture that counts for a great deal.’

  Arakasi added, ‘As for the council, two attempts by Minwanabi to call a formal session have been openly rebuked by Ichindar. The Light of Heaven reiterates his command that the High Council is dissolved until he decides to recall it.’

  Mara was silent a long time. ‘I know there is more to this than treason,’ she concluded at length. ‘Something else is at play. We have had attempts upon Warlord and Emperor before, but neither ever resulted in suspension of the High Council.’

  ‘Maybe this Emperor has more brains or more ambition than his predecessors,’ Kevin offered from his corner. ‘I’d stake my guess that he desires absolute rule.’

  Mara shook her head. ‘To take over by these methods would court revolution. If Ichindar truly desired power, to turn the council to his bidding, he would make them his dogs. The imperial court can
do many things, but it cannot govern the Empire. Our system is not like yours, Kevin, with both ruling lords and their servants all subject to a king.’ She made a frustrated gesture that showed such concepts were alien to her still.

  ‘The Great Freedom,’ Kevin recited. ‘The law that clearly shows the relationship of each man to his master and his servant, so that no one can suffer unjust treatment.’

  ‘A polite fiction, I am certain,’ Mara interjected. ‘In any event, that’s not what I was speaking of; we do not have the system that allows for replacing a corrupt Lord with a noble one. If a Lord falls, his estate falls with him, and if enough of our number fall, the Empire itself must fail.’

  Kevin shoved back sleep-tousled hair. ‘You’re saying the Empire doesn’t have the infrastructure to withstand so widespread a change. Tsurani nobles are too spoiled and self-indulgent to administer their own lands unless they’re also allowed to be absolute dictators. They won’t do it just because the Emperor tells them.’

  Mara found Kevin’s comments rankling. ‘No. What I’m saying is that if the Light of Heaven thinks to turn a body of rulers into no more than clerks by whim, he’ll learn that ordering a thing is not the same as doing it, or seeing that others get it done.’

  Kevin set his back against the wall and nonchalantly inspected his fingernails, which had dirt beneath the rims. ‘I can’t argue that with you.’

  Uncertain why he should choose this moment to be difficult, Mara directed her attention to Arakasi. ‘I think we need to go to Kentosani.’

  Suddenly still, a shape cut from shadow in his dark cloak, the Spy Master said, ‘Mistress, that may be dangerous.’

  ‘When hasn’t it been?’ Kevin questioned with a bite of sarcasm.

  Mara waved a hand to silence him without even looking in his direction. ‘I must chance that the Emperor would have no argument with a meeting of Clan Hadama in the council chambers. And if some members of the Jade Eye Party are also in the city at the same time, and we choose to dine….’

  But the social byplays of politics held no interest for Arakasi this day. ‘These are matters to discuss with your hadonra and First Adviser, mistress,’ he interjected with the slightest trace of sharpness. ‘I must return to my agents and ensure that you are safe.’

  Caught up in her own thoughts, Mara missed his abnormal abruptness. ‘Do so,’ she said in vague reference to words she had interpreted only by surface meaning. ‘But I will expect you at my quarters in the Holy City in one month’s time.’

  ‘Your will, mistress.’ Arakasi bowed with no trace of hesitation. As unobtrusively as he had entered, he slipped through the screen and vanished into the silvery afternoon drizzle. Still deep in thought, Mara allowed him time enough to leave unseen. Then she clapped for her runner and sent for her advisers.

  The rain held almost everyone indoors, and within a few moments Nacoya, Keyoke, and Saric entered. Lujan arrived last, smelling of the oils used to preserve laminated armour. He had been in the barracks instructing young recruits, and his sandals added to the puddles left by Arakasi’s black cloak.

  Without preamble, Mara said, ‘Nacoya, send messages to all the Ruling Lords of the Jade Eye Party, informing them that one month from this day we shall be in residence at our town house in the Holy City. The Acoma would be pleased to host each at a lunch or dinner … according to rank, of course.’ Almost without hesitation she added, ‘Send word to all members of Clan Hadama that a meeting will be held in the High Council hall in six weeks’ time.’

  Nacoya paused in the act of straightening a drooping hairpin. ‘Mistress, many of the Hadama Clan were allied with Axantucar. They will have little inclination to return so soon to Kentosani, despite your request.’

  Mara turned a hard glance toward her First Adviser. ‘Then make it clear: this is not a request. It is a demand.’

  On the point of argument, Nacoya gauged the look in her mistress’s eyes. She reconsidered, nodded once, and with poor grace said, ‘Your will, mistress.’

  From his corner upon the sleeping mat in Mara’s study, Kevin regarded the evening’s exchanges with a growing sense of disquiet. Something in Mara had changed, he intuited, though he could not put his finger on precisely what. Certain only that a distance had grown up between them, despite his best efforts at patience, he regarded the cold, remote look on the face of his Lady and decided. Whatever the resolve behind her thoughts, this time he was unsure that he wanted any part of knowing it. The game was no game, not in any sense he could understand. And by now familiar enough with the politics of Tsuranuanni, he could sense when events led to danger. Changes, he had learned, did not occur in this land except through bloodshed, and the fall of yet another Warlord promised the direst of trouble.

  The rain beat on the rooftree, and darkness fell, and though the air remained every bit as humid and close as before, Kevin found he had lost all inclination to sleep.

  The storm passed, and while clouds on the horizon proclaimed the approach of showers later, the day blazed brilliantly. Mara stood in the hot sun, her bearing erect and her expression unreadable. Lined up before her on the expanse of the practice field stood her entire garrison, every fighting man wearing Acoma colours. The only absent warriors were those assigned to far holdings in distant cities and the current patrol on duty along the perimeter of the estate itself.

  At her right stood Nacoya, looking tiny under the weight of a formal robe. Her diminutive height was emphasized by the wand tipped with a fan of shatra tail feathers, official token of her office as First Adviser. Behind her and to the left stood Keyoke, Saric, and Lujan, also wearing formal garb. The lacquered dress armour, the jewels, and the shell inlay on the officers’ staves glittered blindingly in the morning light.

  Squinting against the sunlight scintillating on polished armour, Kevin regarded the scene from inside the house, his vantage point a window seat in the large hall where Mara held court. Ayaki stood with his elbows propped on the cushion by the Midkemian’s knees. Behind the young master, with a pot of wax and a polishing cloth dangling forgotten from his hands, stood the elderly house slave, Mintai, who was assigned this chamber’s upkeep. The old man enjoyed the free moment that such ceremony brought, this being one of the rare times he could lapse into idleness without fear of reprimand.

  Mara had started off giving awards and promotions, then had gone on to accept the oath of loyalty of an even dozen young warriors called to Acoma service. Once the new recruits completed their final bows and stepped back to take places in the ranks, she addressed her army as a whole.

  ‘Now have the Acoma grown in strength to match their honour. Kenji, Sujanra!’ As the officers who were named stepped forward, Mara accepted two tall, green-dyed plumes from Keyoke. ‘These men are elevated to the rank of Force Leader!’ she announced to her companies, and as the two men bowed before her, she affixed the badges of their new rank to their helms.

  Kevin dug Ayaki in the ribs. ‘What’s a Force Leader? I thought I knew all your ranks.’

  ‘Tasaio of the Minwanabi has four of them,’ the boy said unhelpfully.

  The Midkemian’s blue eyes fixed in turn upon the house slave, and, flattered to be consulted as an authority, Mintai flourished his polishing rag toward the expanse of Mara’s army. ‘It is an assignment made sometimes when a force is too large for one commander. These will now be subofficers to Force Commander Lujan, and each will command a company.’ A puzzled look crossed his face. ‘This must mean she’s dividing the army.’

  Kevin waited for Mintai to qualify, then belatedly realized when no explanation followed that the old man must be a bit simple. ‘What’s that mean?’ he prompted.

  He received a Tsurani shrug. ‘Perhaps the mistress wishes to call more soldiers to her service.’

  ‘So we can beat Tasaio,’ Ayaki broke in. He made a noise in his throat that was his idea of the sound a man might make while dying, then grinned brightly.

  Kevin poked the boy in the ribs again, and the sound effects dis
solved into laughter. ‘How many men exactly are in a company?’ he demanded of Mintai.

  The old slave repeated his shrug. ‘Many. It is all to a Lord’s liking. There is no fixed rule of quantity.’

  But Kevin’s curiosity was only whetted by vagueness. ‘Then how many men answer to the Patrol Leader?’

  ‘A patrol, obviously, barbarian.’ Mintai showed signs of wanting to return to his polishing. The outworlder might be his Lady’s lover, but he was due no respect for asking silly questions.

  Predictably, the barbarian missed the cues that his interest had become a bother. ‘Let me ask in a different way. How many men usually in a patrol?’

  Mintai pursed his lips and refused answer, but now Ayaki was eager to show off. ‘Usually a dozen, sometimes twenty, never less than eight.’

  That a nine-year-old could keep such a nonsensical system straight was just another anomaly on this crazy world. Kevin scratched his head and tried to make order out of chaos. ‘About ten, say. Now, how many Patrol Leaders does a Strike Leader command?’

  ‘Sometimes five, other times as many as ten to each company,’ Ayaki declared.

  ‘You don’t need to shout like you’re on a battle field,’ Kevin reprimanded, and tried, despite several retaliatory pokes in his own ribs, to figure in his head. ‘So each Strike Leader can command as few as forty men and as many as two hundred.’ He blinked as he looked back into the hot sun, where the newly promoted officers arose and resumed their places. ‘Then how many Strike Leaders do you need before you split your forces like this?’