The Complete Empire Trilogy: Daughter of the Empire, Mistress of the Empire, Servant of the Empire. Janny Wurts
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was properly adjusted once again. Chumaka continued his comment – ‘Brilliant, if it had even the remotest hope of success. A marriage with any of your sons would bind you to the Acoma in an alliance. Not only would that deplete your resources to protect them, but then the witch could turn her full attentions to the Lord of the Minwanabi.’
The Lord of the Anasati curled his lips with thinly disguised distaste for the man just named. ‘I’d marry her myself if I thought she had even the remotest possibility of defeating that jaguna in the Game of the Council.’ He frowned at mention of the foul-smelling carrion eater; then his knuckles tightened on his wand as he thought aloud, ‘But what does she hope to gain? She must know I would never allow her to take Jiro as consort. The Acoma is the only family older than mine, after the Five Great Families. If it falls, and by some chance one of the Five Greats falls …’
Chumaka finished the often repeated wish of his Lord ‘… then the Anasati becomes one of the Five Greats.’
Tecuma nodded. ‘And someday one of my descendants might rise to be Warlord.’ He cast a glance to the left, where his three sons waited upon a slightly lower dais.
Closest to his father sat Halesko, heir to the Anasati mantle. Beside him was Jiro, the most clever and able of the three, already likely to marry any one of a dozen great Lords’ daughters, perhaps even a child of the Emperor’s, bringing the Anasati another powerful political tie. Next to him slouched Buntokapi, intently picking dirt from under his thumbnail.
Studying the lumpish visage of his youngest, the Lord of the Anasati whispered to Chumaka, ‘You don’t suppose by some act of providence she’d take Bunto, do you?’
The counsellor’s thin eyebrows rose. ‘Our intelligence indicates she may be a bright girl, if unseasoned, but for her to ask for Bunto as consort would … show a little more cleverness than I’d expect, Lord.’
‘Cleverness? In asking for Bunto as consort?’ Tecuma twisted around in disbelief, causing his bows to droop and a second flurry of fussing from his servants. ‘Are you bereft of your senses?’
Regarding the stolid third son, the counsellor said, ‘You might be tempted to say yes.’
With a look close to open regret, the Lord of the Anasati sighed. ‘I would have to say no, I suppose, wouldn’t I?’
The First Adviser clicked his tongue through his teeth. ‘Even Bunto would bring her too much political power. Consider, if the Minwanabi dog accidentally killed Bunto while obliterating the Acoma … don’t forget the mess he made by sending that Hamoi assassin.’
The Lord of the Anasati nodded. ‘Yes, I’d be forced to see his family suffer vengeance. It’s a shame Minwanabi bungled Mara’s assassination, but I guess that was to be expected: the man’s worse than a jaguna; he has the subtlety of a needra bull in a breeding pen.’ Tecuma shifted in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, and his bows teetered. As servants began their approach, he froze, keeping his costume in place. ‘I didn’t mind humbling her father – Sezu was certainly eager to get the best of me whenever he could. But that was certainly within the rules of the game. This business of blood feuds …’ He shook his head, and the heavy headdress slipped almost beyond his ability to prevent its fall. Chumaka reached out and gently steadied it while Tecuma continued. ‘And going to all this trouble to humiliate his brat seems a waste of time.’ Looking around the hot chamber, he said, ‘Gods, all these musicians, and not one note of entertainment.’
Fussy with detail to the point of being pedantic, Chumaka said, ‘They must remain ready to play the formal entrance music, Lord.’
The Lord of the Anasati sighed in exasperation, his frustration only partly due to the droning of his counsellor. ‘I was enjoying that series of new compositions the musicians had prepared this month. Now the entire day is wasted. Perhaps they could play something until Mara arrives?’
Chumaka shook his head slightly as perspiration rolled over the bulb of his nose. ‘Lord, any breach of etiquette and the Lady of the Acoma gains from the insult.’ Though by nature more patient than his master, even he wondered why the girl’s retinue was taking so long to cross the central court. To the nearest servant he whispered, ‘Find out what’s causing the delay.’
The man bowed and slipped unobtrusively through a side door. He returned to the First Adviser within moments with his report. ‘The Lady of the Acoma sits before the doors, master.’
Short-tempered at last, Chumaka whispered, ‘Then why doesn’t someone ring the gong and admit her?’
The servant glanced uncomfortably at the main entrance, guarded still by the costumed forms of the ceremonial door openers. With a helpless gesture he whispered, ‘She complained of the heat and ordered scented damp towels and cool drinks brought for herself and her retinue so they could all refresh themselves before their appearance, master.’
Chumaka considered the Anasati court, all of whom had been sitting for over an hour in the sweltering heat of midday in a closed room. Inwardly he reconsidered his estimation of Mara. Her tardiness could be a clever manipulation, calculated to goad an opponent to petty anger, gaining her an advantage.
Tecuma said, ‘Well, how long can it take to drink a cup of water?’
The servant said, ‘My Lord, the Lady’s request caught us by surprise. It’s taken time to fetch drink for so large a retinue.’
The Lord of the Anasati exchanged glances with his First Adviser. ‘Just how large is her retinue?’ asked Chumaka.
The servant reddened; uneducated, he could not count reliably past twenty. Still, he did his best to answer. ‘She brought five personal maids, and an old woman of some rank. I saw two officers with plumed helms.’
‘Which means no fewer than fifty warriors.’ Tecuma leaned towards his First Adviser and spoke so low and quickly he almost hissed. ‘I thought you had informed me that her entire home garrison had been reduced to fewer than fifty warriors.’
Chumaka blinked. ‘My Lord, our spy in the Minwanabi household indicated that the battle which killed Sezu and his son also obliterated the main strength of the Acoma.’
The servant looked uncomfortable at being within earshot of this conversation, but Chumaka ignored that fact. Louder he said, ‘Then would the Lady of the Acoma dare bring her entire remaining force with her?’
Obviously wishing to be elsewhere, the servant answered, ‘Sir the hadonra said she brought more. To our shame’ – seeing the Lord of the Anasati tense at the suggestion that this lack of preparation threw dishonour on his house, the servant quickly amended his report – ‘the shame of your poor servants, of course, my Lord – she was obliged to leave another one hundred warriors in camp outside the gates of my Lord’s estates, as we had no ready accommodations for them.’
To the servant’s profound relief, Chumaka waved him away, while the Lord of the Anasati’s mood shifted from umbrage at a servant’s possible slight of honour to alarm at the implication of what he had just been told. ‘The Acoma Force Commander’ – his hand moved in a slight circle as he searched his memory for the name – ‘Keyoke, is a seasoned campaigner, and no fool. If Mara brings a hundred and fifty warriors with her, we must assume that twice that number remain to guard her main estates. Sezu’s reserve garrison must have been far larger than we judged.’ His eyes reflected growing irritation, then narrowed with a hint of suspicion. ‘Our spy is either in the employ of the Minwanabi or incompetent. Since you were the one who convinced me to accept one not born of this house into so sensitive a position of trust, I charge you with responsibility for making enquiries. If we are betrayed, we must know at once.’ The heat and the discomfort were bad enough, but Tecuma recalled the expense and difficulty he had endured to place that spy in the Minwanabi lord’s house. His eyes fixed on his First Adviser. ‘Clearly I see you may have steered us to a bad course.’
Chumaka cleared his throat. He made a show of cooling himself with a decorative fan, to hide his lips from any who might read them. ‘My Lord, please don’t judge hastily. That