The Complete Empire Trilogy: Daughter of the Empire, Mistress of the Empire, Servant of the Empire. Janny Wurts
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‘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.’
Mara frowned.
She concealed her worry behind a fan of stiffened lace and voiced her desire to halt. Papewaio signalled the one other officer and fifty men in her retinue, and the bearers set her litter down in the dooryard of the Tuscalora estate house.
Mara pulled aside the curtains to gain a better view of her unwilling host. Jidu of the Tuscalora was a fat man, his face and jowls moon-round, and his eyelids long-lashed as a woman’s. Both plump wrists were covered with jade bracelets, and the bulging cloth of his robe was sewn with discs of shell. He clinked like a tinker when he moved, and perfumes hung around him in a nearly visible cloud.
From Jican, Mara had learned that Jidu’s profits came only from chocha-la bushes. The rare variety of chocha beans provided the most costly and desired confection in the Empire, and because of a freak concentration of minerals in his soil, the Tuscalora were blessed with the most outstanding plantation in the Empire. Had Jidu the wits to operate in an organized fashion, he would have been a wealthy man. Instead, he was merely affluent.
But poor estate management was no reason to presume the Tuscalora ruler was ineffectual. Lord Jidu’s argumentative reputation had more than once led to bloodshed with his neighbours to the south. Only the Acoma strength, before Sezu’s death, had blunted the man’s aggressive nature. Mara came expecting trouble and hoping to avoid conflict. Even as she greeted Lord Jidu, her entire garrison, save a few guards along the outer perimeter of her property, were moving into place a short distance from the Tuscalora border. If the matter came to battle, Tasido and Lujan would lead a combined assault upon the Tuscalora, while Keyoke held the reserves to protect the home estate house. If Mara’s contingency plan failed – if the battle went against her and the Acoma could retreat in time to minimize their fatalities – enough strength remained to keep Ayaki alive until his Anasati grandfather could rescue him. Mara put aside such thoughts. Under such circumstances, she would be dead and all would be in the hands of the gods – or Tecuma of the Anasati.
Warned of his visitor by a runner from his border guard, Lord Jidu bowed without stepping from the shade of his foyer. That Mara’s honour guard came armed for battle did not ruffle him as he leaned casually against his doorpost and said, ‘Lady Mara, your arrival is an unexpected pleasure. To what do I owe the honour?’ His face became instantly impassive as his visitor ordered her warriors to stand at ease around her litter. The Lady clearly intended to stay, despite the fact that the Lord of the Tuscalora pointedly scanted courtesy by not inviting her inside for refreshments.
Chilled by the man’s calculating eyes, Mara forced herself to begin. ‘Lord Jidu, I have a note signed by you promising the sum of two thousand centuries in metal to my late husband. My hadonra has communicated with your hadonra regarding this matter several times in the last few weeks. When another request, personally made by me, was delivered to you, you took it upon yourself to answer with insult. I came to speak of this.’
‘I’m not certain I take your meaning,’ said the Lord of the Tuscalora. He made a show of tossing aside a fruit rind and, with a curt motion of his head, sent one of his servants swiftly into the house. The next instant the runner flashed out through a side entrance, sprinting for what surely would be the soldiers’ quarters.
‘I mean this,’ said Mara with all the forcefulness she could muster. ‘When you say you do not feel obliged to respond to my message and would be pleased if I would cease “nagging at you”, you insult my honour, Lord Jidu.’ Pointing an accusatory finger, she looked more like the image of her father than she knew. ‘How dare you speak to me like some fishwife by the riverside! I am the Lady of the Acoma! I will not abide such instruction from any man! I demand the respect I am due.’
The Lord pushed away from the doorpost, his manner no longer languid. Speaking as if to a child, he said, ‘Lady Mara, betting debts are not usually settled so directly. Your late husband understood.’
Mara snapped her fan shut, certain the man was stalling her. The instant his garrison received the call to arms, his mockingly paternal solicitude would end. She swallowed, bitterly resolved, and answered with the pride of her ancestors. ‘My late husband no longer rules, but I can assure you, had Lord Buntokapi received such impolite demands to “cease nagging”, he would be challenging you over the point of his sword. Don’t think I will do less if you do not apologize at once and make good the debt.’
Lord Jidu stroked his plump waistline like a man just rising from a feast. He watched Mara keenly, and his confidence warned her before the rattle of armour and weapons that a squad of Tuscalora soldiers hurried into view. Papewaio went tense by her side. These were not slack household guards but soldiers well seasoned by extended duty on the border. They stationed themselves at either side of the doorway, in an advantageous formation: in the event of attack, the Acoma bowmen would be forced to fire uphill, and into the glare of the sun.
Pulling himself up to the limit of his squat stature, Lord Jidu stopped stroking his stomach. ‘If I avow that your demand for payment is an affront, what then, Lady Mara? To pester me for the sums due you implies I will not pay my debt. I think you may have insulted Tuscalora honour.’
The accusation caused the soldiers by the door to clap hands to their sword hilts. Their discipline was faultless; and their readiness to charge, a palpable tension in the air. Papewaio signalled the Acoma retinue, and as smoothly the Lady’s green-armoured guard closed protectively about the litter, shields angled outward. Surrounded by men who sweated with nerves and determination, Mara resisted the need to blot her own damp palms. Had her father felt the same fear as he charged on the barbarian world, knowing his death awaited? Fighting to maintain an outward appearance of calm, Mara looked between the shield rims of her bodyguard and locked stares with the Lord of the Tuscalora. ‘Then we agree we have a cause to settle.’
Sweat sparkled on Jidu’s upper lip, yet his eyes were not cowed. He flicked his fingers, and instantly his line of soldiers crouched in preparation for a charge. Almost inaudibly Papewaio murmured for his own men to hold steady. But his heel scuffed backward in the gravel, and behind the litter Mara heard a faint rustle. The archer crouched there, beyond the view of the estate house, had seen the signal. Surreptitiously he strung his bow, and Mara felt fear like a blade in her heart. Papewaio was preparing to fight, and his instincts in matters of war were uncanny.
Still, Lord Jidu’s reply all but unnerved her. ‘You speak boldly, for one who sits deep in the heart of Tuscalora lands.’
Mara arose from her litter and stood motionless in the sunlight. ‘If Acoma honour is not satisfied, blood must answer.’