Nacoya returned the ritual reply. ‘The Lady Mara welcomes so honoured a guest as Bruli of the Kehotara into our presence.’
At that moment the small form of the runner slave appeared through a side door. He carried a baton marked with white ribbons, signalling the arrival of a message. Mara feigned a struggle to hide relief. ‘Bruli,’ she said quickly, ‘you are welcome in our home. Please ask for whatever you wish from our servants. They will see that you are comfortable. Now, if you will excuse me, the press of business cannot be long ignored by the Lady of the Acoma. I will see you again, perhaps tomorrow?’
She rose, revealing a slenderness hidden until now by the elaborate ceremonial dress. Her bow was peremptory, and she stepped precipitously through a side screen, leaving Bruli of the Kehotara with memorized words of poetry unsaid and a befuddled expression on his face.
Nacoya took over smoothly, according to plan. Knowing vanity to be the great weakness of this young noble, she stepped to Bruli’s side, taking his arm and patting it in a motherly manner.
Bruli’s gaze hardened, still fixed upon the doorway through which Mara had departed. ‘Mother of wisdom, the Lady’s behaviour borders on insult. What matter of business could not wait for my humble words of praise?’ Bruli paused and touched his hair to reassure himself that he had not mussed it when he removed his helm for his bow. ‘Surely something more has caused the Lady Mara to rebuff me in so abrupt a manner. Tell me, what is amiss?’
Nacoya resisted a smile while steering the pretty man towards a side chamber prepared with tables of wine and fruit. ‘Young sir, come take some refreshment. Then I will tell you what I have mentioned to no other, for I think you handsome and well mannered. Lady Mara is a young girl, despite being a widow. Her father, brother and husband were all warriors, fine warriors, but they are all she has ever known. She is weary of men in armour. If you wish to court her favour, return at once to Sulan-Qu and seek the best tailors there. Have them fashion lovely robes of soft weave and jaunty colours. I think if you appeared tomorrow with the look of the scholar or poet, not the warrior, that is more likely than anything to change her cold reception to your advances.’
Bruli’s forehead knitted in thought. To be a warrior was the highest goal of any Tsurani male, but women had all sorts of odd notions. His blue eyes came alight. ‘Thank you, ancient mother. Your advice is sound.’ He sighed in self-reproach and accepted the wine Nacoya offered. ‘Had I wits, I would have anticipated this. Of course, it is now obvious. I shall return tomorrow and Mara shall see how gentle I can be, a man of refinements and grace, with no need of armour and arms to proclaim my manhood. Thank you.’
Nacoya patted Bruli’s sleeve, her brow disingenuously furrowed. ‘And music, I think. My lady would be impressed with any man who showed interest in the fine arts.’ Bruli nodded and handed his empty glass to a servant. ‘My thanks, old mother. Now, you will understand if I do not tarry. If I am to have new robes from the tailors, I must depart for Sulan-Qu on the hour.’
‘You are a diligent suitor, worthy of the Lady’s attention.’ Nacoya clapped for servants to summon Bruli’s litter and his guardsmen. There followed a comical bustle as Bruli rearranged his honour guard by height, that the picture they made while marching should seem bold and harmonious to the eye. When he had departed from the estates, for the first time in memory Nacoya couldn’t contain herself. She crossed the hall to the door to Mara’s quarters, doubled over. Then her laughter could no longer be stifled. Clapping a withered hand to her mouth in helpless desperation, she hurried to meet her mistress. Who but a Ruling Lady would have seized upon Bruli’s vanity and worked that weakness into a plan? The Lords Jingu of the Minwanabi and Mekasi of the Kehotara would learn that matters of honour were not always settled with weapons.
Still chuckling, Nacoya entered Mara’s quarters, where Jican and Arakasi were already meeting with the Lady of the Acoma. Mara looked up from a scroll and noticed the hand still pressed tightly over her First Adviser’s mouth. ‘You seem amused.’
Nacoya sat, slowly, her disarranged hairpins sliding further to one side. ‘If a foe can be bested without bloodshed, what harm if a little entertainment can be derived from the act?’
Mara’s interest sharpened. ‘Then our plan is working, mother of my heart?’
Nacoya returned a spirited nod. ‘I think I can keep Bruli busy for a week or so and spare you the need to insult the Kehotara. The idea we discussed looks promising.’
Mara nodded her approval, resuming her interrupted conversation with Jican. ‘Did you say that Hokanu of the Shinzawai requests permission to call upon the Acoma?’
The hadonra consulted the parchment in his hand, which was of quality penmanship but not an ornamented petition for marriage. ‘The Lord of the Shinzawai sends word that his son will be passing through on his way from their town home in Jamar to the main estates in the north. He begs leave to have Hokanu call upon you.’
Mara remembered Hokanu from the wedding, a striking, darkly handsome man about her own age. She did not need Nacoya’s prompting to remind her that he had been one of the choices for her consort before she had selected Buntokapi.
Aware of Arakasi’s intent expression, Mara asked the Spy Master’s opinion.
‘Hokanu’s interest might be a wise thing to foster. The Shinzawai are among the oldest and most influential families in the High Council; the grandfather was Clan Kanazawai Warchief until he retired, then Kamatsu was. Two Warchiefs in succession from the same family shows rare deftness in clan politics. And they are not vicious players of the Game of the Council, but have gained position through skill and intelligence, with no blood feuds under way, and no debts. And they are the only major family beside the Xacatecas not in alliance with the Warlord, the Minwanabi, or the Anasati. But they are enmeshed in some plot of the Blue Wheel Party.’
So Arakasi, too, thought an alliance through marriage would benefit the Acoma. But Mara’s interest was political only. ‘What plot?’
‘I don’t know,’ Arakasi gestured in frustration. ‘My agents are not well placed for getting inside information on the Blue Wheel. I deduce a move is afoot to blunt the influence of the Warlord, since Blue Wheel sentiment within the council holds that Almecho commands too much power. Still, since Almecho’s invasion of the barbarian world, that movement has all but ceased to exist. Even the Shinzawai provide support. Kamatsu’s oldest son, Kasumi, is a Force Leader of the Kanazawai forces upon Midkemia’ – the Spy Master frowned as he pronounced the foreign names – ‘facing the armies of Crydee in the westernmost province of what the barbarians call the Kingdom of the Isles.’
Mara was always astonished at the amount of information Arakasi could remember, even down to seemingly trivial details. He never made notes or kept lists; other than coded messages disguised as normal business documents, he never permitted his agents to write their reports. And his intuitive guesses were uncanny.
‘Do you think the Blue Wheel Party had changed alliance?’ she asked.
‘No.’ Arakasi seemed certain. ‘The world of Midkemia holds too many riches for one man’s gain, and Kamatsu is too crafty a player of the game. I expect the Blue Wheel will withdraw support from the Alliance for War at a critical moment, leaving the Warlord dangerously overextended. If so, the aftermath should prove interesting.’
Mara reconsidered the note from the Lord of the Shinzawai in the light of this information and reluctantly decided to decline. Her plans for Bruli and the snarled state of Acoma financial affairs would prevent her from honouring Hokanu with the hospitality he deserved. Later, perhaps, she would send him an invitation to make up for the regret she must send now. ‘Jican, instruct the scribes to answer with a polite letter informing the younger son of the Lord of the Shinzawai that we will be unable to offer our hospitality at this time … My Lord’s death has left much confusion in the affairs of the estate, and for this we must humbly beg understanding. I will sign the parchment personally, for Hokanu is one I earnestly wish not to offend.’
Jican made a note on his tally slate. Then his brow furrowed with more than usual resignation. ‘There is the matter of the late Lord Bunto’s gambling debts, Lady.’
Tired of sitting, Mara rose and wandered over to the screen that opened onto the garden. Staring at the flowers, she said, ‘How much did he lose?’
The hadonra answered without hesitation, as if the numbers had haunted his sleep for some nights. ‘Seven thousand centuries of metal, twenty-seven dimis, and sixty-five cintis … and four tenths.’
Mara turned to face him. ‘Can we pay it?’
‘Certainly, though it will limit capital flow for a season, until the next crop is sold off.’ As if the matter pained him, Jican added, ‘We shall have to deal in some credits.’
But the cho-ja craftsmen were starting to produce marketable jade; the time of debt would be short. Mara said, ‘Pay them now.’
Jican made another note. ‘Then there is the matter of the debt of the Lord of the Tuscalora.’
‘What debt?’ The Tuscalora lands bordered the Acoma holdings to the south, and to Mara’s knowledge there had been no ties of business with the Ruling Lord for several generations.
Jican sighed. ‘Your husband was a poor gambler, but at wrestling he excelled. He defeated the Tuscalora champion on four occasions, and Lord Jidu lost heavily each time. He wagered thirty centuries on the first bout, and paid in gems. The second bout was for five hundred centuries, and this he noted in the paper contract he since chose not to honour, for the next two bets were wagered double or nothing. His champion was beaten; it was the talk of Sulan-Qu for a week. At present the Lord of the Tuscalora owes the Acoma a total of two thousand centuries.’
‘Two thousand! That would ease our finances considerably.’
Jican shrugged. ‘If he has assets to pay – I have sent two polite reminders and received no answer at all, probably because the Lord had extended himself on credit until this season’s crops are harvested for market.’
‘Send a strongly worded demand, over my personal chop.’ Mara looked away a moment, thoughtfully, then added, ‘Much good will be lost if anyone thinks he may take advantage because a woman is again ruling House Acoma. Let the Lord of the Tuscalora know I require an immediate answer.’
Jican nodded. Mara allowed him to withdraw and, alone, considered the uneasy feeling that had arisen within her over the Tuscalora debt to the House of the Acoma. Her neighbour to the south had been of no consequence, neither ally nor enemy. But his army was large enough to threaten Acoma safety should the matter of debt turn into contention between the two houses. But not to demand her rightful due was to invite gossip about Acoma weakness in every marketplace within the Empire. Mara sighed. The Lord of the Tuscalora was known for his touchy and belligerent temperament. He disliked backing down, which was why Buntokapi had led the man so far into debt to begin with. Mara hoped this one time Jidu of the Tuscalora would prove a reasonable neighbour.
Mara read the parchment, her throat tightening with anger and no small amount of fear. Arakasi, Keyoke, Papewaio, and Nacoya all waited silently as she finished the return message from the Lord of the Tuscalora. She sat silently for a long time, tapping the scroll against her fingers. Finally she said, ‘We cannot ignore this. Keyoke, what would my father had done with a message like this?’
The Force Commander said, ‘The men would be arming, even now.’ He studied Sezu’s daughter and added, ‘I can march at your word, mistress.’
Mara sighed, taking no pains to hide her distress from these, her four closest advisers. ‘I cannot accept this defiance and insult as a declaration of war, Keyoke. For us to engage in conflict with the Tuscalora would mean our destruction.’
Keyoke regarded her levelly. ‘We can take his measure.’
Mara’s brown eyes were unflinching as she met her Force Commander’s stare. ‘At what cost? The Tuscalora forces are not so inferior that we can march in and not suffer.’ She shook her head. ‘Shall we find ourselves where we were after Father and Lano died? This time our enemies will not be so slow to strike.’ Her voice became thick with frustration. ‘Everything I have built, all that I’ve endured, would be as nothing.’
Nacoya’s old hand cut down in emphasis as she said, ‘Then do nothing, Lady. The amount is not so large as to warrant putting yourself and Ayaki at risk. Deal with this insulting little man when you are better able.’
Mara became very still. ‘No, I must do something. For us to ignore this rejection of our claim would be to announce to every house in the Empire that we are unable to answer insult to our honour.’ She dropped the parchment on a side table, as if it were poisonous. ‘This must be answered.
‘Keyoke, have the entire garrison ready to march at first light. I wish the men marshalled as close to the border of the Tuscalora estates as possible without alerting his sentries.’
Keyoke inclined his head. ‘The terrain there is unfavourable for a charge. We would need twenty minutes to reach the estate house should trouble arise.’
Mara stared grimly at the flower bed beyond the screen. ‘It shall be as nothing to me if the assault takes five minutes or five hours. By the time you arrive, I would already be dead. No. We must carve our advantage through other things than strength of arms alone.’
There followed a discussion of tactics that extended long past dusk. Servants brought a repast that went largely untouched; even Arakasi’s appetite seemed off. And in the end, when Keyoke and Papewaio had exhausted their knowledge of warcraft, Mara suggested another plan, the one that offered a dangerous hope.
Nacoya grew silent and white-faced. Papewaio sat stroking his chin with his thumb, over and over again, while Keyoke simply looked grim. But only Arakasi truly understood Mara’s bitterness as she excused her advisers, saying, ‘I will travel tomorrow to confront Lord Jidu. And if the gods are ill disposed to the Acoma, then our ruin will not be due to the plottings of the Anasati or the treachery of the Minwanabi, but to an honourless man’s seeking to renege on a debt.’
• Chapter Twelve • Risks (#ulink_61576e5e-ebe2-5b85-957d-0ce8ce2ad20e)
