Raymond E. Feist - Empire Saga 3 - Mistress

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Mistress of the Empire

Raymond E. Feist was born and raised in Southern

California. He was educated at the University of

California, San Diego, where he graduated with

honours in Communication Arts. He is the author

of the bestselling and critically acclaimed Riftwar

Saga (Magician, Sil`,erthorn and A Darkness at

Sethanon), Prince of the Blood, Faerie Tale, The

King's Buccaneer and Shadow of a Dark Queen.

Feist lives with his wife, novelist Kathlyn Starbuck

and daughter Jessica Michele in Rancho Santa Fe,

California.

Janny Wurts is the author of several successful

fantasy novels including the Cycle of Fire trilogy

(Stormwarden, The Keeper of the Keys and

Shadomiane), a short story collection, That Way

Lies Camelot and The Master of Whitestorm. Her

epic new series, The Wars of Light and Shadow

begins with Curse of the Mistwraith and coritinues

with The Ships of Merior . All of her novels have

been published to great accalim.

Also by Raymond E. Feist and Janny Wurts

Daughter of the Empire

Servant of the Empire

Also by Raymond E. Feist

Magician

Silverthorn

A Darkness at Sethanon

Prince of Blood

Faerie Tale

The King's Buccaneer

Shadow of a Dark Queen

Also by Janny Wurts

Sorcerer's Legacy

Stormwarden

Keeper of the Keys

Shadomfane

The Master of Whitestorm

That Way Lies Camelot

The Curse of the Mistwraith

The Ships of Merior

SCIENCE

FICTION

FANTASY

RAYMOND E. FEIST

and

NANNY WURTS

Mistress of the Empire

Ha~perCollinsPublishe~s

HarperCollins Science Fiction 8` Fantasy

An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

77-85 Fulham Palace Road,

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

This paperback edition 1994

3 S 7 9 8 6 4

Previously published in paperback by Grafton 1993

Reprinted twice

First published in Great Britain by

HarperCollinsPublishers 1992

The Author asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

ISBN 0 586 20379 6

Set in Sabon

Printed in Great Britain by

HarperCollinsManufaauring Glasgow

reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted,

in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,

photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior

permission of the publishers.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not,

by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or

othetwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent

in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it

is published and without a similar condition including this

condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This book is dedicated to

Kyung and Jon Conning,

with appreciation for giving us insights and friendship

Acknowledgments

In the course of five years, in writing three novels together,

we are indebted to the following people without whose

contributions the work would have not been as rewarding,

for either ourselves or the reader. Our thanks:

To the Friday Nighters, who started it all way back

when R.E.F. asked where Midkemia was, thereby making

it .mpossible not to write the story.

To our editors along the way, Adrian Zackheim, Jim

Moser, Pat LoBrutto, and Janna Silverstein, for turning us

loose.

To Elain Chubb, for continuity and finish.

To so many people at our publishing houses who care

more than the job requires and work above and beyond

the call of duty, those gone on to other places and those

still with us.

To Jonathan Matson for being more than an agent.

To Mike Floerkey for spreading the word and technical

suggestions.

And to Kathlyn Starbuck and Don Maitz for putting up

with R.E.F. and J.W. respectively while we were impossible

to live with for the last six years. The fact we're still married

speaks volumes for your patience and love.

Raymond E. Feist

Janny Wurts

San Diego, CA/Sarasota, FL

June 1991

Tragedy

The morning sun shone.

Dew bejeweled the lakeshore grasses, and the calls of

nesting shatra birds carried sweetly on the breeze. Lady

Mara of the Acoma savoured the air, soon to give way to

the day's heat. Seated in her litter, her husband at her side

and her two-year-old son, Justin, napping in her lap, she

closed her eyes and breathed a deep sigh of contentment.

She slipped her fingers into her husband's hand. Hokanu

smiled. He was undeniably handsome, and a proven

warrior; and the easy times had not softened his athletic

appearance. His grip closed possessively over hers, his

strength masked by gentleness.

The past three years had been good ones. For the first

time since childhood, she felt safe, secure from the deadly,

unending political intrigues of the Game of the Council.

The enemy who had killed her father and brother could no

longer threaten her. He was now dust and memories, his

family fallen with him; his ancestral lands and magnificently

appointed estate house had been deeded to Mara by the

Emperor.

Superstition held that ill luck tainted a fallen family's

land; on a wonderful morning such as this, misfortune

seemed nowhere in evidence. As the litter moved slowly

along the shore, the couple shared the peace of the

moment while they regarded the home that they had

created between them.

Nestled between steep, stone-crested hills, the valley

that had first belonged to the Minwanabi Lords was

not only naturally defensible, but so beautiful it was as

10 Mistress of the Empire

if touched by the gods. The lake reflected a placid sky,

the waters rippled by the fast oars of a messenger skiff

bearing dispatches to factors in the Holy City. There, grain

barges poled by chanting slaves delivered this year's harvest

to warehouses for storage until the spring floods allowed

transport downriver.

The dry autumn breeze rippled golden grass, and the

morning sun lit the walls of the estate house like alabaster.

Beyond, in a natural hollow, Force Commanders Lujan and

Xandia drilled a combined troop of Acoma and Shinzawai

warriors. Since Hokanu would one day inherit his father's

tide, his marriage to Mara had not merged the two houses.

Warriors in Acoma green marched in step with others

in Shinzawai blue, the ranks patched black, here and

there, by divisions of insectoid cho-ja. Along with the

Minwanabi lands, Lady Mara had gained an alliance with

two additional hives and with them the fighting strength

of three more companies of warriors bred by their queens

for battle.

An enemy foolish enough to launch an assault would

invite swift annihilation. Mara and Hokanu, with loyal

vassals and allies, between them commanded a standing

army unsurpassed in the Nations. Only the Light of

Heaven's own Imperial Whites, with levies from other

houses under his sovereignty, would rival these two armies.

And as if fine troops and a near-impregnable fortress did not

in themselves secure peace, the title Servant of the Empire,

bestowed upon Mara for her services to Tsuranuanni, gave

her honorary adoption into the Emperor's own family. The

Imperial Whites were as likely to march in her defence, for

by the honor central to Tsurani culture, insult or threat to

her was as an offense visited upon the Light of Heaven's

blood family.

'You seem delightfully self-satisfied this morning, wife,'

Hokanu said in her ear.

Tragedy

Mara tilted her head back into his shoulder, her lips

parted for his kiss. If, deep in her heart, she missed the

wild passion she had known with the red-haired barbarian

slave who had fathered Justin, she had come to terms with

that loss. Hokanu was a kindred spirit who shared her

political shrewdness and inclination toward innovation.

He was quick witted, kind, and devoted to her, as well

as tolerant of her headstrong nature, as few men of her

culture were inclined to be. With him, Mara shared voice

as an equal. Marriage had brought a deep and abiding

contentment, and though her interest in the Great Game

of the Council had lessened, she no longer played out of

fear. Hokanu's kiss warmed the moment like wine, until a

high-pitched shout split the quiet.

Mara straightened up from Hokanu's embrace, her

smile mirrored in her husband's dark eyes. 'Ayaki,' they

concluded simultaneously. The next moment, galloping

hoof beats thundered down the trail by the lake.

Hokanu tightened his arm around his wife's shoulder as

the two of them leaned out to view the antics of Mara's

older son and heir.

A coal black horse burst through the gap in the trffl,

mane and tail flying in the wind. Green tassels adorned its

bridle, and a pearl-stitched breastplate kept the saddle from

sliding backward along its lean length of barrel. Crouched

in the lacquer-worked stirrups was a boy, recently turned

twelve, and as raven haired as his mount. He reined the

gelding into a turn and charged toward Mara's litter, his

face flushed with the thrill of speed, and his fine, sequin

stitched robe flying like a banner behind.

'He's becoming quite the bold rider,' Hokanu said admiringly. '

And the birthday present appears to please him.'

Mara watched, a glow of pleasure on her face, as the boy

reined in the mount upon the path. Ayaki was her joy, the

person she loved most in life.

The black gelding tossed its head in protest. It was

spirited, and eager to run. Still not entirely comfortable

with the huge animals imported from the barbarian world,

Mara held her breath in apprehension. Ayaki had inherited a

wild streak from his father, and in the years since his narrow

escape from an assassin's knife, a restless mood sometimes

claimed him. At times he seemed to taunt death, as if by

defying danger he could reaffirm the life in his veins.

But today was not such a moment, and the gelding had

been selected for obedience as well as fleetness. It snorted

a gusty breath of air and yielded to the rein, falling into

stride alongside Mara's litter bearers, who overcame their

inclination to move away from the large animal.

The Lady looked up as boy and horse filled her vision.

Ayaki would be tall, the legacy of both his grandfathers.

He had inherited the Acoma tendency toward leanness, and

all of his father's stubborn courage. Although Hokanu was

not his blood father, the two shared friendship and respect.

Ayaki was a boy any parent could be proud of, and he was

already showing the wits he would need when he reached

adulthood and entered the Game of the Council as Lord

of the Acoma in his own right.

'Young show-off,' Hokanu teased. 'Our bearers might

be the only ones in the Empire to be granted the privilege

of sandals, but if you think we should race you to the

meadows, we'll certainly have to refuse.'

Ayaki laughed. His dark eyes fixed on his mother, filled

with the elation of the moment. 'Actually, I was going to

ask Lax'l if I might try our speed against a cho-ja. It would

be interesting to know whether his warriors could overtake

a troop of the barbarians' cavalry.'

'If there was a war, which there is not at the moment, gods

be praised,' Hokanu said on a note a shade more serious.

'Take care you mind your manners, and don't offend Force

Commander Lax'l's dignity when you ask.'

Tragedy

Ayaki's grin widened. Having grown up around the alien

cho-ja, he was not at all intimidated by their strange ways.

'Lax'l still has not forgiven me for handing him a jomach

fruit with a stone in it.'

'He has,' Mara interjected. 'But after that, he grew wise

to your tricks, which is well. The cho-ja don't have the

same appreciation of jokes that humans do.' Looking at

Hokanu, she said, 'In fact, I don't think they understand

our humor.'

Ayaki made a face, and the black curvetted under him

The litter bearers swerved away from its dancing hooves;

and the jostle disturbed young Justin. He awakened with

a cry of infant outrage.

The dark horse shied at the noise. Ayaki held the animal

with a firm hand, but the spirited gelding backed a few

steps. Hokanu kept a passive face, though he felt the urge

to laugh at the boy's fierce determination and control. Justin

delivered an energetic kick into his mother's stomach. She

bent forward, scooped him up in her arms.

Then something sped past Hokanu's ear, from behind

him, causing the hangings of the litter to flutter. A tiny

hole appeared in the silk where Mara's head had been

an instant before. Hokanu threw his body roughly against

those of his wife and foster child and twisted to look in the

other direction. Within the shadows of the bushes beside

the path, something black moved. Instincts honed in battle

pressed Hokanu to unthinking action.

He pushed his wife and younger child out of the

litter, keeping his body across them as a shield. His

sudden leap overturned the litter, giving them further

cover. 'The brush!' he shouted as the bearers were sent

sprawling.

Guards drew their blades in readiness to defend their mistress.

But seeing no clear target to attack, they hesitated.

Mara exclaimed in puzzlement from beneath a tangle of

14 Mistress of the Empire

cushions and tom curtains, over the noise of Justin's wails.

'What -'

To the guards, Hokanu shouted, 'Behind the akasi

bushes!'

The horse stamped, as if at a stinging fly. Ayaki felt his

gelding shudder under him. Its ears flattened, and it shook

its heavy mane, while he worked the reins to soothe it. 'Easy,

big fellow. Stand easy.' His stepfather's warning failed to

reach him, so intent was he on steadying his mount.

Hokanu glanced over the litter. The guards now rushed

the bushes he had indicated. As he fumed to check for

possible attack from the other quarter, he saw Ayaki

frantically trying to calm a horse grown-dangerously over

excited. A sparkle of lacquer in the sunlight betrayed a tiny

dart protruding from the gelding's flank. 'Ayaki! Get off!'

His horse gave a vicious kick. The dart in its hide had

done its work, and nerve poison coursed through the beast's

bloodstream. Its eyes rolled, showing wide rings of white.

It reared up, towering, and a near-human scream shrilled

from its throat.

Hokanu sprang away from the litter. He grabbed for the

gelding's rein, but slashing hooves forced him back. He

dodged, tried another grab, and missed as the horse twisted.

Familiar enough with horseflesh to know this animal had

gone berserk, he screamed to the boy who clung with both

hands locked around the beast's neck.

'Ayaki! Jump off! Do it now, boy!'

'No,' cried the child, not in defiance, but bravely. 'I can

quiet him!'

Hokanu leaped for the reins again, frightened beyond

thought for his own safety. The boy's concern might have

been justified if the horse had simply been scared. But

Hokanu had once seen the effects of a poison dart; he

recognised the horse's shivering flesh and sudden lack

of coordination for what they were: the symptoms of

Tragedy

fast-acting venom. Had the dart struck Mara, death would

have taken seconds. In an animal ten times her size, the

end would be slower, and brutally painful. The horse

bellowed its agony, and a spasm shook its great frame.

It bared yellow teeth and fought !he bit, while Hokanu

again missed his grip. 'Poison, Ayaki!' he shouted over

the noise of the frantic horse. Hokanu lunged to catch

the stirrup, hoping to snatch the boy clear. I-he horse's

forelegs stiffened, bracing outward as the muscles locked

into extension. Then its quarters collapsed, and it toppled,

the boy caught like a burr underneath.

The of the heavy body striking earth mingled with

Mara's scream. Ayaki refused to leap free at the last. Still

riding his horse, he was swept sideways, his neck whipped

back as the force of the fall threw him across the path. The

horse shuddered and rolled over upon the boy.

Ayaki made no sound. Hokan' avoided a hedge of

thrashing hooves as he darted around the tormented

animal. He reached the boy's side in a bound, too late.

Trapped under the weight of dying, shivering horseflesh,

the child looked too pale to be real His dark eyes turned

to Hokanu's, and his one free hand reached out to grip that

of his foster father's a heartbeat ahead of death.

Hokanu felt the small, dirty fingers go limp inside his

own. He clung on in a rage of aerial. 'No!' he shouted,

as if in appeal to the gods. Mara's cries rang in his ears,

and he was aware of the warriors from her honor guard,

jostling him as they labored to shift the dead horse. The

gelding was rolled aside, the rush of air as its lungs deflated

moaning through its vocal cords. For Ayaki, there would be

no such protest at shattering, untimely death. The gelding's

withers had crushed his chest, and the ribs stood up from

mangled flesh like the broken shards of swords.

The young face with its too white cheeks stared yet,

open-eyed and surprised, at the untroubled sky overhead.

16 Mistress of the Empire

The fingers that had reached out to a trusted foster father to

stave off the horror of the dark lay empty, open, the scabbed

remains of a blister on one thumb a last testimony to diligent

practice with a wooden sword. This boy would never know

the honors or the horrors of a battle, or the sweet kiss of

his first maid, or the pride and responsibility of the Lord's

mantle that had been destined one day to be his.

The finality of sudden ending left pain like a bleeding

wound. Hokanu knew grief and stunned disbelief. His mind

worked through the shock only out of reflex trained on the

fields of war. 'Cover the child with your shield,' he ordered.

'His mother must not see him like this.'

But the words left numbed lips too late. Mara had rushed

after him, end he felt the flurry of her silken robes against

his calf as she flung herself on her knees by her son. She

reached out to embrace him, to raise him up from the

dusty ground as if through sheer force of love she could

restore him to life. But her hands froze in the air over the

bloody rags of flesh that had been Ayaki's body. Her mouth

opened without sound. Something crumpled inside her. On

instinct, Hokanu caught her back and bundled her against

his shoulder.

'He's gone to the Red God's halls,' he murmured. Mara

did not respond; Hokanu felt the rapid beat of her heart

under his hands. Only belatedly did he notice the scuffle in

the brush beside the trail. Mara's honor guard had thrown

themselves with a vengeance upon the black clothed body

of the assassin. Before Hokanu could gather the wits to

order restraint - for, alive, the man might be made to say

which enemy had hired him - the warriors made an end

of the issue.

Their swords rose and fell, bright red. In seconds Ayaki's

killer lay hacked like a needra bullock slaughtered in a

butcher's stall.

Hokanu felt pity for the man. Through the blood, he

Tragedy

noted the short black shirt and trousers, the red-dyed hands,

as the soldiers turned the body over. The headcloth that

hid all but the eyes of the man, was pulled aside to reveal

a blue tattoo upon the left cheek. This mark would only

be worn by a member of the Hamoi Tong, a brotherhood

of assassins.

Hokanu stood slowly. It did not matter that the soldiers

had dispatched the killer: the assassin would have died

gladly before divulging information. The tong operated to

a strict code of secrecy, and it was certain the murderer

would not know who had paid his leader for this attack.

And the only name that mattered was that of the man who

had hired the Hamoi Brotherhood's services.

In a cold corner of his mind, Hokanu understood that

this attempt upon Mara's life had not come cheaply. This

man could not have hoped to survive his mission, and a

suicide killing would be worth a fortune in metal.

'Search the corpse, and track his path through the estates,'

he heard himself saying in a voice hardened by the emotions

that seethed inside. 'See if you can find any clues as to who

might have hired the tong.'

The Acoma Strike Leader in command bowed to the

master, and issued sharp orders to his men.

'Leave a guard over the boy's body,' Hokanu added.

He bent to comfort Mara, unsurprised that she was still

speechless, fighting horror and disbelief. Her husband did

not fault her for being unable to keep composure and show

proper Tsurani impassivity. Ayaki had been all the family

she had known for many years; she had no other blood

kindred. Her life before his birth had already been jarred

by too much loss and death. He cradled her small, shivering

body against his own, and added the necessary instructions

concerning the boy.

But when the arrangements were complete and Hokanu

tenderly tried to draw Mara away, she fought him. 'No!'

18 Mistress of the Empire

she said in strangled pain. 'I will not leave him here

alone!'

'My Lady, Ayaki is beyond our help. He already stands

in the Red God's halls. Despite his years, he met death

courageously. He will be welcomed.' He stroked her dark

hair, dampened with tears, and tried to calm her. 'You

would do better inside with loved ones around you, and

Justin in the care of his nurses.'

'No,' Mara repeated, a note in her voice that he instinctively

knew not to cross. 'I won't leave.'

And though she did after a time consent to have

her surviving child sent back to the estate house under

protection of a company of warriors, she sat through the

heat of the morning on the dusty soil, staring at the stilled

face of her firstborn.

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摘要：

MistressoftheEmpireRaymondE.FeistwasbornandraisedinSouthernCalifornia.HewaseducatedattheUniversityofCalifornia,SanDiego,wherehegraduatedwithhonoursinCommunicationArts.HeistheauthorofthebestsellingandcriticallyacclaimedRiftwarSaga(Magician,Sil`,erthornandADarknessatSethanon),PrinceoftheBlood,FaerieTa...

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