Mara smiled, as if the accusation that she might poison a guest were no insult at all. ‘You accepted Acoma hospitality readily enough before.’ And as Teani bridled, she sipped neatly from her own cup and began her opening move. ‘I observe that you have brought Strike Leader Shimizu as your honour guard. That is good, for what I have to say concerns him.’
Teani said nothing, but in the doorway Shimizu shifted his weight onto his toes. Arakasi rested his hand lightly on his sword, though he was no match for a true warrior.
Mara concentrated solely upon the beautiful courtesan before her. In a voice low enough that the soldiers by the door could not hear, she said, ‘My honour guard Papewaio was murdered last night, but not by a thief. I say to you that your honour guard, Shimizu, ran a sword through his heart, thereby forfeiting the surety of the Minwanabi.’
A breeze off the lake dimmed the lamp. Teani smiled in the shadow and abruptly waved Nacoya over to pour her tea. ‘You are no threat to the Minwanabi, Lady Mara.’ Contemptuously, as if her presence were warmly welcome, she crumbled spice bark into the cup, raised it to her lips, and drank. ‘Papewaio cannot return to life to testify.’ Teani had not troubled to lower her voice, and now Shimizu’s eyes were fixed upon the Lady of the Acoma.
Sweat sprang along Mara’s spine. For her father, for her brother, and for Pape, she made herself continue. ‘That is true. But I say that your master is guilty, and your warrior companion was his instrument. You both will swear to the fact … or else Jingu will watch his pretty lover die by the rope.’
Teani stiffened. Without spilling her tea, she set down her cup. ‘That’s a threat to frighten children. Why should my master order me a shameful death, when I do nothing but please him?’
Now Mara let her reply ring across the breadth of the room. ‘Because I know that you are a spy for Tecuma of the Anasati.’
For a moment surprise, shock, and naked calculation warred on the concubine’s face. Before Teani could recover her poise, Mara completed her gambit and hoped the gods of chance would support her lie. ‘I have documents that prove you are Tecuma’s sworn servant, and unless you do as I wish, I will have them sent to the Lord of the Minwanabi.’
Arakasi watched Shimizu with the single-minded intensity of a killwing. At first the tall officer seemed stunned by betrayal. Then, as Teani visibly struggled for words to deny the accusation, Shimizu stirred in the doorway and slowly drew his sword.
The concubine strove to patch the tear in their relations. ‘Shimizu! Mara lies. She speaks falsely of me to make you betray our master.’
Shimizu hesitated. Reflections from the lamp trembled along the razor edge of his lacquered blade as, tortured with self-doubt, he debated.
‘Attack her,’ Teani goaded. ‘Kill Mara for me. Kill her now!’
But her voice rang too shrill. Shimizu straightened his shoulders. Fear, and regret, and painful resolve all mingled on his features as he slowly shook his head. ‘I must inform my Lord Jingu. He shall judge.’
‘No!’ Teani sprang to her feet. ‘He’ll hang us both, you fool!’
But the protest served only to seal her guilt in the eyes of the warrior who had loved her. He spun away from the doorframe. Arakasi moved to overtake him, and sounds of a struggle arose from the corridor. Plainly the Acoma Spy Master attempted to block Shimizu’s way, to grant Mara time to obtain proof of Minwanabi treachery against Papewaio.
Teani whirled, her eyes narrowed with fury. ‘You’ll never get what you want from me, you sexless bitch.’ She drew a knife from the waistband of her robe and sprang from the cushions to murder.
Mara had seen the shift of the concubine’s weight. Already rolling as Teani piled into her, she dropped her shoulder under the thrust. The knife struck harmlessly into cushions.
As the concubine twisted the weapon free, Mara recovered her breath. ‘Shimizu! Help! For your master’s honour!’ She rolled again, the flash of the blade a hairsbreadth from her groin.
Teani uttered a furious curse and slashed at her enemy’s throat.
Mara blocked with a wrestler’s move, but only for a moment. The concubine was larger than she, and anger lent her strength. Sliding, twisting, struggling for her life upon the floor, Mara managed a desperate cry to Nacoya. ‘Get help. If I die in front of witnesses, Jingu is ruined and Ayaki will survive!’
The old nurse fled. Teani shrieked wordlessly in frustration. Possessed utterly by hatred, she rammed Mara backwards against the tiles. The knife dipped. Mara’s grip began to give, and the blade trembled lower, nearer and nearer to her exposed throat.
Suddenly a shadow loomed overhead. Armour flashed in the moonlight, and hands seized Teani from behind. Mara’s hold broke with a jerk as the concubine was yanked backwards, the knife still in her hand.
Shimizu hauled his lover up by the hair, like a hunter’s kill. ‘You must be an Anasati spy,’ he said bitterly. ‘Why else would you harm this woman, and see my master shamed beyond redemption?’
Teani met her lover’s accusation with a glare of sultry defiance. Then she twisted like a serpent and rammed the knife towards his heart.
Shimizu spun and took the blade against the wristband on his arm. The edge glanced off, opening a slight wound. Wild with rage, he flung away the concubine who had betrayed him. She staggered gracelessly backwards and caught a heel on the track that secured the screens. The balcony lay beyond, the railing a silhouette against the moonlit surface of the lake. Teani flailed, off balance, and stumbled against supports already weakened for murder. The railing cracked and gave way with the softest whisper of sound. The concubine twisted, horror robbing her of grace, as she clawed to regain the balcony. Mara’s breath caught in her throat, even as the weakened boards splintered from under Teani’s feet. The sound was a death knell. Teani knew, as she tottered, that the glazed tiles of the courtyard awaited below; the body found broken in the morning would be hers, and not that of her enemy.
‘No!’ Her shout echoed over the lake as the last board collapsed beneath her. She did not scream. As she plunged through the darkness, she cried, ‘I curse you –’ and then her body struck the tiles. Mara closed her eyes. Still clenching a drawn sword, Shimizu stood stunned and tormented. The woman he had cherished lay dead below.
The moonlight shone uninterrupted across a vacant expanse of balcony, framed by broken supports. Mara shivered and stirred, then raised stunned eyes to the warrior, who seemed locked like a statue in grief. ‘What happened to my honour guard?’ she asked.
Shimizu seemed not to hear. He turned half-dazed from the balcony and bent unfriendly eyes upon Mara. ‘You will provide evidence that Teani was an Anasati spy, my Lady.’
Mara pushed damp hair from her face, too shaken and too preoccupied to react to the threat in his tone. Her goal, vengeance for her father, her brother, and even Papewaio, lay very close at hand. If only she could wring an admission from Shimizu – the Strike Leader could not hope to hide the fact that he had been forced to kill Teani to defend the oath of guest safety. Since the concubine had initiated the attack, Jingu could be accused of betrayal; for upon Mara’s arrival half the guests present had overheard his announcement that Teani was a privileged member of his household.
Shimizu took a threatening step forward. ‘Where is your proof?’
Mara looked up, relief at her own survival making her careless in her reply. ‘But I have no proof. Teani was an Anasati spy, but my claim of written evidence was only a gambler’s bluff.’
Shimizu glanced quickly to either side, and with a jolt of renewed dread, Mara remembered. Nacoya had left to find help. No observers remained to witness whatever happened in the room.
‘Where is Arakasi?’ she repeated, unable to hide the fear in her voice.
Shimizu stepped forward. His manner changed from stunned horror to resolve, and his fingers tightened on his weapon. ‘You have no further need of an honour guard, Lady of the Acoma.’
Mara retreated, her feet tangling in cushions. ‘Warrior, after all that has passed this night, would you dare compromise the honour of your master beyond doubt?’
Shimizu’s expression remained stony as he lifted his sword. ‘Who is to know? If I say that you killed Teani, and I was honour-bound to defend her, there are no other witnesses to challenge me.’
Mara kicked clear of the cushions. Shimizu advanced another step, backing her helplessly against the carry boxes. Terrified by his passionate logic, and chilled by realization that his mad, clever plan might create enough confusion to spare Jingu’s honour, she tried to stall him with words. ‘Then you killed Arakasi?’
Shimizu leaped across the massed expanse of cushions. ‘Lady, he sought to keep me from my duty.’
His blade rose, glittering in the moonlight. Out of resources, and cornered without hope, Mara drew the small knife she kept hidden in her sleeve.
She raised her hand to throw, and Shimizu sprang. He struck with the flat of his sword; smashed from her grasp, the knife rattled across the floor and lay beyond reach by the balcony doors.
The sword rose again. Mara threw herself to the floor. Darkened by the shadow of her attacker, she screamed, ‘Nacoya!’ while silently beseeching Lashima’s protection for Ayaki, and the continuance of the Acoma line.
But the old nurse did not answer. Shimizu’s sword whistled downward. Mara twisted, bruising herself against the carry boxes as the blade sliced into the sleeping mat. Mara struggled, pinned helplessly against unyielding boxes of goods. The next cut from Shimizu’s sword would end her life.
But suddenly another sword rose over Shimizu’s head. This weapon was familiar, and ineptly handled as it carved a shining arc in the moonlight and crashed upon the neck of her attacker. Shimizu’s hands loosened. His sword wavered, then fell from his fingers, to splash point first through the leather side of a carry box.
Mara screamed as the huge warrior toppled, his plumes raking her side as he crashed upon the floor. One pace behind, and staggering to a stop, Arakasi employed the sword he had lately used as a club for a prop to steady himself. He managed a drunk-looking bow. ‘My Lady.’
Blood flowed from a scalp wound, down the side of his face and along his jaw, the result of a blow that must have knocked him unconscious in the corridor. Mara caught her breath with a soft cry, half-relief, half-terror. ‘You look a fright.’
The Spy Master wiped at his face and his hand came away red. He managed the ghost of a grin. ‘I dare say I do.’
Mara struggled with partial success to regain her poise. Reaction left her giddy. ‘You have to be the first man to wear the plumes of an Acoma officer who does not know the edge from the flat of the blade. I am afraid Shimizu will sport a bruise as handsome as any he gave you, come morning.’
Arakasi shrugged, his expression caught between triumph and deep personal grief. ‘Had he lived, Papewaio intended to improve my technique. His shade will have to be satisfied with the ruin of the Minwanabi instead.’ Then, as if he had admitted a grief he might rather have kept to himself, the Spy Master silently helped his mistress to her feet.
Voices sounded in the corridor. Indignant and shrill, the words of Jingu and his son Desio carried clearly over the confused tones of the guests. Mara straightened her disarranged robes. She bent, dislodged Shimizu’s sword from the carry box, and met the crowd of nobles and servants as a true daughter of the Acoma.
Jingu stamped explosively through the opened screen. ‘What has happened here?’ He stopped, open-mouthed at the sight of his prone Strike Leader, then glared wrathfully at the Lady of the Acoma. ‘You have brought treachery to my house.’
