'I say no!' Anais cried. 'I say my abdication would weaken the country more than Lucia ever could. There are at least three houses who hold power enough to challenge for the throne. I will name no names, and I do not presume to know their intentions, but a war of succession would follow should Blood Erinima relinquish their claim on the throne, and all of you know it!'
Silence again. She spoke the truth. Blood Batik claimed rights by marriage, but there was no way Anais would pass the responsibility for Saramyr into the hands of her wastrel, womanising husband. Blood Amacha claimed rights by sheer power; they owned the most land, and a large private army. And Blood Kerestyn were most powerful of all; they had been the ruling family before Erinima, and they had never lost the desire to reclaim the throne.
'I know the horror that the word "Aberrant" awakens in all of us,' she continued. 'But I know also that there are many interpretations of that word. Not all Aberration is bad; not all Aberrants are evil. It took the birth of my child to make me see that, but I see it now. And I would have all of you see it, too.'
She raised her hand to forestall another of her antagonists. 'I ask for the vote of the council in support of my daughter's claim to the throne.'
'The council will vote!' the Speaker called.
Anais stood where she was, her hands laid across each other, clammy with sweat. She could feel herself trembling inside. If the council approved by a majority, she could consider herself safe for a time. As the Barakess had said, nobody wanted a civil war now. But if her support was lacking, then she was in terrible danger. Would she truly abdicate, even for the sake of her child? At least, that way, Lucia might live…
'Blood Erinima, family of my heart. How do you say?' she asked.
'We support you as always, Empress,' said her great-aunt Milla. As eldest, she was the head of the family, even though her niece was Empress.
Anais looked about the chamber, scanning the grandiose tiers. She would have to ask each of the thirty families in turn, and the order that she chose them was crucial. Some families who were wavering might be swayed if a more powerful ally took the lead. Blood Erinima was easy. She asked then three other families, all certainties, who assured her of their support. A fourth one, whom she had thought she could rely on, decided to remain neutral.
Then, reasoning that it was best not to use up all her support this early in the vote, she chose an obvious enemy: Blood Amacha.
'We oppose you, Empress, with all our strength and vigour,' Barak Sonmaga replied, somewhat unnecessarily.
She asked several other families, receiving mixed reponses. The powerful Barak Koli voted against her; his daughter Mishani was noticeably absent. Blood Nabichi threw unexpected support behind the Empress. But there was one to whom many of the lesser families were looking: Blood Ikati. Anais took a breath; their support was vital for snaring in some of those who sat on the fence.
'Blood Ikati,' she said, her voice echoing across the chamber. 'How do you say?'
Barak Zahn tu Ikati unfolded his lean, rangy body from behind his stall. He regarded Anais carefully. Anais met his gaze with her own, unfaltering.
I have done him no wrong, she told herself. / have nothing to fear.
'Blood Ikati supports your daughter's claim, Anais tu Erinima,' the Barak said, and as he sat down Anais felt herself weaken at the knees.
The ritual of asking each family was a nerve-racking affair, and by the time it had concluded there was no clear majority. Her supporters and opponents were evenly matched, and there were few who abstained. The council was divided, split down the middle.
Anais felt a thrill of mixed relief and trepidation. If the council had voted heavily against her, she would have been tempted to consider abdication, whatever the cost to Blood Erinima. Her daughter's life would surely be forfeit if Anais tried to put her on the throne with no support. But now her course was set. Though it was risky, she had enough strength behind her to dare this, even if she was sorely tempting the prospect of civil war. When they left the chamber, Blood Amacha would be gathering their allies and Blood Kerestyn theirs. The only comfort she took was that the opposition was divided, whereas her support was as solid as she could hope for.
'My daughter sits the throne,' she said. 'I bid you all a safe journey.' And with that, she left, her composure threatening to break as she stepped from the dais; but she did not allow herself to cry until she was alone in her chambers.
It was perhaps an hour later when Barak Zahn tu Ikati came to her chambers.
Ordinarily, Anais would not have received visitors after council; but for him she made an exception. They had known each other long enough that formality was unnecessary, so she had Zahn shown into a room with plush chairs and gently smoking scented braziers, and she appeared wearing a simple dress and her hair, freshly brushed, worn loose. The decor was relaxed and homely, calculated to put him at his ease. Here some concession had been made to luxury over aesthetic beauty, and the room had a cosy air about it, with rugs on the lach floor and curtains of coloured beads hanging over the tall, narrow window arches.
'Zahn,' she said with a bright smile. 'I'm glad to see you.'
'You too, Anais,' he said. 'Though I wish the circumstances were somewhat different.'
She gestured him to a chair and sat opposite him. 'Troubled times indeed,' she said.
'I cannot stay, Anais,' said Zahn, scratching his neck with his thumb absently. 'The afternoon is drawing on, and I have to journey back to my estate. I came to bring you a warning.'
Anais adopted an attentive posture.
'A servant found my Weaver, Tabaxa, as he lay dying,' Zahn said, frowning slightly. 'He was struck down very suddenly, it seems, and was bleeding from the ears and eyes; yet there was not a mark on him.'
'It sounds like another Weaver did it,' Anais said. 'Or perhaps poison.'
Zahn made a negative grunt. 'Not poison, the servant removed Tabaxa's mask, and he said a word before he died. Very clearly.'
Anais suddenly pieced together the puzzle: why Zahn had sent that letter; why he had seemed so cold in the council chamber. 'Vyrrch,' she said.
Zahn did not reply, but his eyes told her she was right.
'Then why…?'
'Did you know of it, Anais?' Zahn demanded, suddenly lurching forward towards her.
'No!' she replied instantly.
Zahn paused, half out of his chair, and then sank back with a sigh. 'As I thought,' he said. 'A single word is a slim rope to hang so much weight on, Anais. But you must watch him, your Weave-lord. Perhaps he seeks to undermine you. Have you thought what it might mean for the Weavers if Lucia sits the throne and there isn't a revolution?'
Anais nodded grimly. 'She is a mockery of all their teachings about Aberrants. They have killed Aberrant children for so long, and so young… Lucia is living proof that they do not always turn out evil, if at all. If she becomes Empress, they fear what she will do.'
'Perhaps,' said Zahn, 'it is something that needs to be done.'
Anais nodded slightly, her gaze turning to the windows, where Nuki's eye watched benevolently over Axekami from behind the bead curtains.
'Why did you vote for me, Zahn, if you thought I had sent Vyrrch to spy on you?'
'Because I trust you,' he said. 'We have been allies and opponents by turns for a long time now, but you have never broken a deal with me. Also, I confess, I wanted to see how you reacted when you saw me; I would have been able to tell, I think, if you had been guilty.'