The Complete Empire Trilogy. Janny Wurts

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The Complete Empire Trilogy - Janny Wurts


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      Arakasi watched Shimizu with the single-minded intensity of a killwing. At first the tall officer seemed stunned by betrayal. Then, as Teani visibly struggled for words to deny the accusation, Shimizu stirred in the doorway and slowly drew his sword.

      The concubine strove to patch the tear in their relations. ‘Shimizu! Mara lies. She speaks falsely of me to make you betray our master.’

      Shimizu hesitated. Reflections from the lamp trembled along the razor edge of his lacquered blade as, tortured with self-doubt, he debated.

      ‘Attack her,’ Teani goaded. ‘Kill Mara for me. Kill her now!’

      But her voice rang too shrill. Shimizu straightened his shoulders. Fear, and regret, and painful resolve all mingled on his features as he slowly shook his head. ‘I must inform my Lord Jingu. He shall judge.’

      ‘No!’ Teani sprang to her feet. ‘He’ll hang us both, you fool!’

      But the protest served only to seal her guilt in the eyes of the warrior who had loved her. He spun away from the doorframe. Arakasi moved to overtake him, and sounds of a struggle arose from the corridor. Plainly the Acoma Spy Master attempted to block Shimizu’s way, to grant Mara time to obtain proof of Minwanabi treachery against Papewaio.

      Teani whirled, her eyes narrowed with fury. ‘You’ll never get what you want from me, you sexless bitch.’ She drew a knife from the waistband of her robe and sprang from the cushions to murder.

      Mara had seen the shift of the concubine’s weight. Already rolling as Teani piled into her, she dropped her shoulder under the thrust. The knife struck harmlessly into cushions.

      As the concubine twisted the weapon free, Mara recovered her breath. ‘Shimizu! Help! For your master’s honour!’ She rolled again, the flash of the blade a hairsbreadth from her groin.

      Teani uttered a furious curse and slashed at her enemy’s throat.

      Mara blocked with a wrestler’s move, but only for a moment. The concubine was larger than she, and anger lent her strength. Sliding, twisting, struggling for her life upon the floor, Mara managed a desperate cry to Nacoya. ‘Get help. If I die in front of witnesses, Jingu is ruined and Ayaki will survive!’

      The old nurse fled. Teani shrieked wordlessly in frustration. Possessed utterly by hatred, she rammed Mara backwards against the tiles. The knife dipped. Mara’s grip began to give, and the blade trembled lower, nearer and nearer to her exposed throat.

      Suddenly a shadow loomed overhead. Armour flashed in the moonlight, and hands seized Teani from behind. Mara’s hold broke with a jerk as the concubine was yanked backwards, the knife still in her hand.

      Shimizu hauled his lover up by the hair, like a hunter’s kill. ‘You must be an Anasati spy,’ he said bitterly. ‘Why else would you harm this woman, and see my master shamed beyond redemption?’

      Teani met her lover’s accusation with a glare of sultry defiance. Then she twisted like a serpent and rammed the knife towards his heart.

      Shimizu spun and took the blade against the wristband on his arm. The edge glanced off, opening a slight wound. Wild with rage, he flung away the concubine who had betrayed him. She staggered gracelessly backwards and caught a heel on the track that secured the screens. The balcony lay beyond, the railing a silhouette against the moonlit surface of the lake. Teani flailed, off balance, and stumbled against supports already weakened for murder. The railing cracked and gave way with the softest whisper of sound. The concubine twisted, horror robbing her of grace, as she clawed to regain the balcony. Mara’s breath caught in her throat, even as the weakened boards splintered from under Teani’s feet. The sound was a death knell. Teani knew, as she tottered, that the glazed tiles of the courtyard awaited below; the body found broken in the morning would be hers, and not that of her enemy.

      ‘No!’ Her shout echoed over the lake as the last board collapsed beneath her. She did not scream. As she plunged through the darkness, she cried, ‘I curse you –’ and then her body struck the tiles. Mara closed her eyes. Still clenching a drawn sword, Shimizu stood stunned and tormented. The woman he had cherished lay dead below.

      The moonlight shone uninterrupted across a vacant expanse of balcony, framed by broken supports. Mara shivered and stirred, then raised stunned eyes to the warrior, who seemed locked like a statue in grief. ‘What happened to my honour guard?’ she asked.

      Shimizu seemed not to hear. He turned half-dazed from the balcony and bent unfriendly eyes upon Mara. ‘You will provide evidence that Teani was an Anasati spy, my Lady.’

      Mara pushed damp hair from her face, too shaken and too preoccupied to react to the threat in his tone. Her goal, vengeance for her father, her brother, and even Papewaio, lay very close at hand. If only she could wring an admission from Shimizu – the Strike Leader could not hope to hide the fact that he had been forced to kill Teani to defend the oath of guest safety. Since the concubine had initiated the attack, Jingu could be accused of betrayal; for upon Mara’s arrival half the guests present had overheard his announcement that Teani was a privileged member of his household.

      Shimizu took a threatening step forward. ‘Where is your proof?’

      Mara looked up, relief at her own survival making her careless in her reply. ‘But I have no proof. Teani was an Anasati spy, but my claim of written evidence was only a gambler’s bluff.’

      Shimizu glanced quickly to either side, and with a jolt of renewed dread, Mara remembered. Nacoya had left to find help. No observers remained to witness whatever happened in the room.

      ‘Where is Arakasi?’ she repeated, unable to hide the fear in her voice.

      Shimizu stepped forward. His manner changed from stunned horror to resolve, and his fingers tightened on his weapon. ‘You have no further need of an honour guard, Lady of the Acoma.’

      Mara retreated, her feet tangling in cushions. ‘Warrior, after all that has passed this night, would you dare compromise the honour of your master beyond doubt?’

      Shimizu’s expression remained stony as he lifted his sword. ‘Who is to know? If I say that you killed Teani, and I was honour-bound to defend her, there are no other witnesses to challenge me.’

      Mara kicked clear of the cushions. Shimizu advanced another step, backing her helplessly against the carry boxes. Terrified by his passionate logic, and chilled by realization that his mad, clever plan might create enough confusion to spare Jingu’s honour, she tried to stall him with words. ‘Then you killed Arakasi?’

      Shimizu leaped across the massed expanse of cushions. ‘Lady, he sought to keep me from my duty.’

      His blade rose, glittering in the moonlight. Out of resources, and cornered without hope, Mara drew the small knife she kept hidden in her sleeve.

      She raised her hand to throw, and Shimizu sprang. He struck with the flat of his sword; smashed from her grasp, the knife rattled across the floor and lay beyond reach by the balcony doors.

      The sword rose again. Mara threw herself to the floor. Darkened by the shadow of her attacker, she screamed, ‘Nacoya!’ while silently beseeching Lashima’s protection for Ayaki, and the continuance of the Acoma line.

      But the old nurse did not answer. Shimizu’s sword whistled downward. Mara twisted, bruising herself against the carry boxes as the blade sliced into the sleeping mat. Mara struggled, pinned helplessly against unyielding boxes of goods. The next cut from Shimizu’s sword would end her life.

      But suddenly another sword rose over Shimizu’s head. This weapon was familiar, and ineptly handled as it carved a shining arc in the moonlight and crashed upon the neck of her attacker. Shimizu’s hands loosened. His sword wavered, then fell from his fingers, to splash point first through the leather side of a carry box.

      Mara screamed as the huge warrior toppled, his plumes raking her side as he crashed upon the floor. One pace behind, and staggering to a stop, Arakasi employed the sword he had lately used as a club for a prop to steady


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