The Complete Empire Trilogy: Daughter of the Empire, Mistress of the Empire, Servant of the Empire. Janny Wurts
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in battle armour, ready for instant action should there be cause. Mara finished with a smile of irony. ‘Once again I rule the Acoma, until Ayaki is twenty-five years of age.’
The Lord of the Anasati prepared to speak, but his adviser, Chumaka, intervened. ‘My Lord, she is correct. Such is the law.’
Balked, Tecuma paused a long minute, his eyes distant with calculation. ‘Then what of the boy if you die?’
In even tones Mara said, ‘Then Ayaki is ruler of the Acoma, as I was before the age of twenty-five, ready or not.’
Tecuma made a subtle gesture, indicating that Mara was once again a woman alone against enemies. ‘The boy will surely die.’
But the threat failed to move the young Lady, who stood defiantly straight. ‘At the hands of the Lord of the Minwanabi, or some other seeking to rise over Acoma bodies, perhaps.’
Tecuma conceded defeat. ‘Very well, daughter. You have made your point. I shall endeavour to keep you alive, at least until Ayaki comes to his majority. But if you make any move that I judge a menace to the Anasati –’
‘Do not threaten me in my own house, father of my husband,’ Mara warned. ‘I could end this here and now.’ She pointed to Lujan and the soldiers who waited ready to answer their mistress’s command. The odds against Tecuma were now overwhelming, with only a score of soldiers to protect him against the possibility of attack by two companies. Were he to press the issue, he could die very quickly.
Mara regarded the stiff features of her father-in-law. ‘I have no wish to be at odds with you, Tecuma. Your differences with my father were strictly political.’ With a sigh more eloquent than words, she shook her head. ‘We both know that what I have done was also a matter of politics.
‘Should you die here … Jingu of the Minwanabi would be without any real rival in the game. No, I do not ask you to be my ally. I just wish you not to be my foe.’
The fist Tecuma had raised to signal his soldiers relaxed and lowered. He regarded Mara keenly. ‘Minwanabi … yes. Already he thinks himself powerful enough to move against me.’ The Lord of the Anasati sighed, at last acknowledging the quiet strength in Mara’s stance. ‘Perhaps you can make some difference.’ He shook his head. ‘I underestimated you. Perhaps Jingu will do likewise.’
After a silent minute he bowed to take his leave. ‘Very well, Mara. You have my word on this, then; so long as Ayaki lives, I will not oppose you when you seek to discomfort the Minwanabi. But I make no such assurances where Anasati interests are concerned. We still have many differences. But once my grandson inherits the mantle of the Acoma, Lady, you shall find my memory is long. Should any harm befall him before then, from that instant your life will be measured in minutes.’
Curtly Tecuma signalled his retinue to assemble for the journey back to Sulan-Qu. Wind tugged at the officers’ plumes, and streamed through Mara’s dark hair as she watched the Anasati Lord and his followers muster and march from the yard. The first part of her plan had been successful. For a time the second most powerful of her father’s enemies had been neutralized; even more, made a reluctant ally. There were not many in the Empire who would tempt Tecuma’s wrath by harming his grandson; only the Lords of the Keda, Xacatecas, and Minwanabi, and perhaps one or two others. Most would refrain, if only to see that the Lord of the Minwanabi did not grow too powerful. As Jingu’s enemy, Mara had value, if only to keep him occupied. And despite the protection she had garnered from Tecuma, Mara knew the blood feud would go on. She had only forced her family’s greatest foe to move cautiously. No more bungled assassinations, of that she was certain. Attack would come, but for the first time since Keyoke had fetched her from the temple, the Lady of the Acoma felt that she had gained a measure of time. She must be diligent about how she used it.
Turning her mind to the tasks before her, Mara dismissed Lujan and his warriors. With Keyoke and Papewaio at her side, she returned to the cool and the comfort of her chamber. First upon her agenda the next day was a journey to Sulan-Qu, for if Arakasi’s information was correct, a Minwanabi spy resided in the town house owned by the Acoma. Buntokapi’s concubine, Teani, must be dealt with at the earliest opportunity.
The erstwhile Lord of the Acoma had avoided the fashionable quarter of town for his dwelling. The side street where it lay was tidy and quiet, removed from the noisy thoroughfares of commerce, but still an easy walk to the public wrestling arenas. Mara stepped from her litter, sandals crunching gently over ulo leaves, which shed seasonally during the dry months. Accompanied by a retinue that included both Papewaio and Arakasi, she stepped up to the wide doorway whose posts were carved into the decorative forms of warriors in battle array. A strange servant opened the screen.
He bowed deeply. ‘I bid the Lady of the Acoma welcome.’
Mara acknowledged the greeting with the barest wave of her hand and stepped across the threshold into shadow tinged scarlet by the sunlight that filtered through the hangings. An aroma of sweet spices filled the air, mixed with furniture oil and a woman’s perfume. The house staff, numbering four, sank to their knees, awaiting Mara’s command as she surveyed the fine rugs, a shell-inlaid weapons rack, and chests enamelled and set with red gems. Her husband’s town house was a cosy enough nest, she decided. But the taste and the decor of the place were influenced by a mind other than that of her late husband. Buntokapi would never have set marble statues of nymphs by the doorway, and the paintings on the screens were of flowers and graceful birds, not the battle scenes he invariably chose for himself.
Mara waited until Papewaio and Arakasi reached her side. The sword carried by the former was not for show, and the latter wore an officer’s plumes, to disguise his true purpose; but in the end Mara did not require the Spy Master’s guidance to spot the woman who had won her husband’s heart, all for the motive of spying for the Minwanabi. Though Teani bowed submissively with the other servants, she could never be mistaken for other than Buntokapi’s mistress.
Mara studied her profile and understood her husband’s obsession. The concubine was a truly beautiful woman, with unblemished skin and hair touched by sun-gold and red – though Mara suspected that effect might have come from artifice rather than nature. Even though she was kneeling, the light silk of the concubine’s robes draped a ripe, soft figure with breasts that were high and well formed despite being large, a small waist, and flaring hips. Mara’s own body seemed boyish in comparison, and for no good reason the fact rankled. For every minute Buntokapi had been gone from the estate, his wife had thanked the gods; yet now the stunning beauty of the woman he had preferred irked Mara. A voice remembered from the temple warned, ‘Beware vanity and false pride.’ Mara almost laughed. Yes, she was feeling wounded vanity and injured pride. And yet fate had been kind in an odd and unexpected way.
Jingu of the Minwanabi had sent this woman to further his plot to destroy the Acoma. But instead, Teani only managed to distract Buntokapi, enabling Mara to realize her plans more quickly. And the ultimate aim of those plans was the strengthening of House Acoma … and the destruction of the Minwanabi. Mara savoured the irony in silence. Teani must go back to her master ignorant that her true role had been uncovered. Let Jingu think this woman had been banished by a jealous wife.
Prudently, Mara motioned for two of her soldiers to stand guard by the door. Then, stepping ahead of her bodyguards, but keeping carefully beyond reach of a knife thrust, she spoke to the kneeling concubine. ‘What is your name?’
‘Teani, mistress.’ The woman kept her eyes cast downward.
Mara distrusted her subservience. ‘Look at me.’
Teani raised her head, and Mara heard a slight stir from the warriors who looked on. The concubine’s golden, heart-shaped face framed lovely eyes, almost amber in colour. Her features were perfect, and sweet as the honey in the hives of the red-bee. But beyond beauty, Mara saw something that made her hesitate. This woman was dangerous, as much a threat as any player in the Great Game. Yet the Lady of the Acoma spoke no hint of her conclusion aloud. ‘What are your duties?’
Still upon her knees, Teani said, ‘I served your husband as a maid, mistress.’
The Lady of the