Servant of the Empire (Riftwar Cycle: The Empire Trilogy) by Raymond E. Feist & Janny Wurts

Author:Raymond E. Feist & Janny Wurts [Feist, Raymond E.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2017-08-22T00:00:00+00:00

16. REGROUPING

The trumpet sounded.

After two days behind locked gates, with Acoma soldiers camped in garden and courtyard and even the downstairs hallway, the noise was a welcome intrusion. Mara pushed away a book scroll she had failed to read. Her nerves were like overwound strings, responsive to the slightest movement and sound. She was on her feet ahead of thought, even as the warriors on duty had blades half-drawn from their scabbards.

And then reason caught up with defensive instinct. An attack would not be heralded with a fanfare, nor take place in the light of midday. Trumpets could only signal a long-overdue call to council or other imperial announcement. Grateful the waiting was ended, Mara arose to go downstairs.

Arakasi had dispatched no reports in the interim. Mara had been reliant on hearsay bought by tossing coins over the walls to rumormongers, and what news she managed to glean was far too sparse for the enormity of the events that had transpired. Word had passed like wind through the streets the night before that Almecho had taken his life in shame. Odd talk also circulated that the Assembly had named Milamber outcast and stripped him of his rank. Less reliable sources said the barbarian magician had eliminated the Assembly altogether. That version Mara doubted; when she tried to imagine power on a vast enough scale to subdue the tempest that had destroyed the arena, her mind balked at the concept.

Unasked, Kevin had dryly observed that he would not wish to be the one sent to inform the barbarian magician of his change in status.

Mara picked her way down the grand stair, which was stacked like shelves in an armory with helms and bracers laid aside by resting warriors. Swords lay piled in corners, and the curved scroll of the balustrade became a mustering place for spears. Since the arrival of the relief troops, her original thirty warriors had swelled to a garrison of one hundred, and the guest suites were all jammed with officers.

The horn call had roused more sleepers, and the on-duty patrol of seventy-five was fully armored. Prepared for immediate action, the men formed up at the appearance of their mistress and cleared a path between her and the door. Mara passed through and wondered that Kevin was not among the dicers in the corner.

The dooryard outside was no less jammed with warriors. They formed ranks three deep in the narrow space as she signaled for Lujan to unbar the street gate.

Four Imperial Whites waited on the other side, and a herald in a thigh-length robe of brilliant white. His badges of rank flashed in the sunlight, as did the golden ribbon around his head and his gilt-trimmed rod of office.

“Lady Mara of the Acoma,” he intoned.

Mara advanced a step ahead of Lujan and presented herself.

The herald returned a shallow bow. “I bring words from the Light of Heaven. Ichindar, ninety-one times Emperor, bids you retire to your home at your leisure. Go in peace, for his shadow is thrown across the breadth of the land and his arms encircle you.

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