Tsiora answered and her words helped to calm Tau. “Abasi Odili attempted a coup and has thrown our queendom into a state of civil war. His crimes can have only one response.”
“And in better times, we would respond exactly as you’re suggesting,” Mirembe said. “But, Your Majesty, we do not have the luxury of better times. We must do as we Nobles have always done. We must settle our internal differences peacefully so that we can face our enemies with the full might of our bronze and fire.”
Tau couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Differences?” he said. “Odili tried to kill our queen and there are many others who no longer breathe because of him. He’s a murderer and there’s nothing but justice waiting for him.”
“How dare you,” Otobong said. “You’re talking about a Royal Noble.”
Tau could see where this was heading. They wouldn’t listen. They’d planned it out so they wouldn’t have to. The new Ruling and Guardian Councils intended to outvote the queen and welcome Odili back with open arms, and Odili would accept. He’d have to or he’d die like everyone else in the Xiddeen attack.
Then, once the rebellion was ended and Odili was pardoned, these Greater Nobles would get to keep their roles as councillors. Tau didn’t know how a Noble might rise in caste, but if there was any way to do it, he imagined this was it.
“I think you mean to let Abasi Odili live,” he said, putting a hand to his strong-side sword, “but so long as I draw breath, that won’t be possible.”
Nyah stepped close enough to be standing between them. “That’s enough, both of you,” she said, and, without giving either of them time to respond, she turned to Tsiora. “My queen, may we adjourn? These issues will be better discussed by the light of day, and—”
“You put your hand to your sword while we stand in council chambers with our queen,” Otobong said to Tau, towering over him. “You lack the civility of an inyoka.”
“Oh, you wish me to be civil?” Tau asked the larger man. “You want me to play the part of a Noble when you’ll never give me the same consideration as one. Is that the game?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I can smile and talk as sweet as cane sugar. I can follow every rule you’ll ever make, and it will never be good enough for people like you, because people like you don’t see me as people,” Tau said, pulling a handspan of black dragon scale free from its scabbard.
“Has this thing gone mad?” Otobong asked, backing away.
“General, that is our champion to whom you speak,” the queen said.
It took him a breath, but Otobong tilted his head in deference. “Of course. He’s your champion. Apologies, my queen.”
Tau knew what was expected. He knew it was his turn to apologize, so they could both play the part of noblemen in good company, but Tau wasn’t a nobleman. They’d never let him be one and he wasn’t sure being one was better anyway. So, staring up at the general, he dropped his second hand to its corresponding blade.
“I need no titles to defend me,” he said. “I can do it myself.”
Otobong’s nostrils flared at that and the queen raised her voice. “This meeting is over,” she said. “Mirembe, if you are determined to see a new ruling council formed, we’ll consider it at another time. For now, we’ll retire to think over the advice that has been offered.”
Tau let his eyes flit to Mirembe’s face. The self-named chairwoman looked like she’d sucked something sour, and then she caught him looking at her.
“My queen,” she said, “one last bit of advice?”
“If you must, Mirembe,” Tsiora said.
“Whether we like it or not, we should speak with Guardian Councillor Odili. It’s our duty to try to resolve this without Omehi spilling Omehi blood.”
Tsiora could have been made from stone. “Is that everything?”
“Almost,” Mirembe said, eyeing Tau up and down, “but I must ask, would our queen not be better served by a champion like Kellan Okar?”
“As chairman of our newly formed Guardian Council,” said Otobong, “I would like to second the chairwoman’s thought. Indeed, Okar and Odili are also well acquainted and—”
Tau’s twin blades kissed the bare flesh on Otobong’s neck and the leather armor on his back, the dragon scale selling the man on silence.
“Thief,” Tau said. “I warned you. You won’t steal Odili from me.”
“Champion.” It was the queen.
“I will have justice,” Tau said, keeping his blades in contact with the general’s skin as the eleven Indlovu in the room moved to their feet and drew their bronze.
“Queen Tsiora, it appears as if you’d be well served to seriously consider my suggestion about champions,” Mirembe said, her dispassionate facade thrown aside. Then, raising her voice, she spoke to Tau. “Put away your weapons, you insect.”
“Champion Solarin, we have not yet asked you to kill the general,” the queen said.
“This isn’t the way,” Hadith whispered. “It’s not it, Tau.”
Struggling to get his breathing back under control, Tau looked from face to face, seeing Hadith, Nyah, and at the last, his queen. He took a step back, lifting his black blades away from the general.
His life no longer in immediate danger, Otobong slapped a hand against his bleeding neck and pulled it away to stare in shock at the red smears on his fingers. “You drew blood.”
The guardian swords were sharp beyond measure, and Tau was not accustomed to them.
“You attacked me?” Otobong asked. “You attacked me!”
“General Otobong,” Nyah said, trying to take control, “do you honestly expect to heap abuses on others and receive none your—”
“No!” the general shouted. “It goes too far. This filthy half man shouldn’t even be allowed near dragon scale, let alone to wield it.” The general faced the queen. “Queen Tsiora, tell me, if you will, is this how you intend to rule? With blood drawn among those loyal to you and truces violated with assassinations? I thought you wanted peace. Why are you willing to offer it to our enemies but not to the women and men of your own kind?”
“General . . . ,” warned Nyah, but Otobong would not be stopped.
“I would like to know,” he said, “will you rule with Lessers standing in the place of their betters?”
Nyah spoke first. “There’s only one Lesser that the queen has elevated, and he’s champion because of proven merit. Queen Tsiora has no intention of—”
The queen cut off her vizier. “We do what the Goddess wills and won’t be second-guessed.”
Otobong nodded. “Then we can expect more of them in these meetings, hmm? Whispering in your ear? Undermining your Nobles?” He sniffed. “Queen Tsiora, I understand that you didn’t get to join yourself with a savage, but that shouldn’t mean it must be done with a Lesser.”
“General!” shouted Nyah, pointing an open hand at him.
Otobong eyed her. “You’ll strike at me too, Vizier? Will you lay this Noble low with the Goddess’s own gifts?” He licked his bottom lip and let his mouth twist like he was about to spit. “What have we become?”