The Complete Empire Trilogy: Daughter of the Empire, Mistress of the Empire, Servant of the Empire. Janny Wurts
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certain to seize upon this small but shameful lie, he quickly added, ‘I’ll pay interest, of course.’
Heavy silence fell, punctuated by Jidu’s heavy breathing and a near-imperceptible creak of armour as Papewaio shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. Mara used her good hand to open her fan, her manner poisonously sweet. ‘You argue like a moneylender, while Acoma soldiers lie dead outside your door? If my late Lord chose to offer terms on the debt, so be it. Produce the document and we shall abide by the terms.’
Jidu blinked. ‘But our agreement was spoken, Lady Mara, a promise between noblemen.’
The fan vibrated in the air as Mara reined back rage. ‘You have no proof? And yet you haggle?’
With his field held hostage, Jidu shied from bringing up matters of honour again. ‘You have my word, my Lady.’
Mara winced. The Lord of the Tuscalora had created a situation where she could only call him forsworn, an insult no ruler could ignore. Etiquette demanded that the Lady of the Acoma accept the agreement, thereby gaining nothing for the next three months, and then only a fifth of what was due, or resume the useless slaughter.
The fan poised motionless in her hand. ‘But this debt is overdue already, Lord Jidu,’ she said. ‘Your hadonra’s failure to acknowledge inquiries in timely fashion brought about this impasse. I will brook no more delays, or your fields will be put to the torch.’
‘What do you propose?’ he asked weakly.
Mara rested her pretty fan on her knee. Though her wound obviously taxed her, she judged her moment perfectly, offering a counterbargin before Jidu’s wits could recover. ‘My Lord, you own a small strip of land between my northern and southern needra fields, cut down the middle by the dry stream bed.’
Jidu nodded. ‘I know the land.’ He had once offered to sell that same acreage to Mara’s father; Sezu had declined, because the land was useless. The banks of the dried stream were rocky and eroded and much too steep to cultivate. A crafty expression crossed the features of the Lord of the Tuscalora. ‘Have you a need for that land, my Lady?’
Mara tapped her fan, thoughtful. ‘We recently gave the use of our upper meadow to the cho-ja. Now, Jican might find it useful for those lower fields to be connected, perhaps with a plank bridge so the needra calves can cross without injuring their legs.’ Recalling the stray note Sezu had left penned in one corner of a very tattered map, Mara stifled a smile. As if conceding a favour, she added, ‘Lord Jidu, I am willing to cancel your debt in exchange for the land and all privileges granted along with it. Also, you will vow not to oppose the Acoma for the remainder of your life.’
The wizened hadonra stiffened in poorly hidden alarm; he whispered in his master’s ear. The Lord of the Tuscalora heard him, then smiled unctuously at Mara. ‘As long as the Tuscalora are allowed access to the Imperial Highway for our wagons, I’ll agree.’
The Lady of the Acoma returned a gracious wave of her fan. ‘But of course. Your workers may drive your wagons down the gully to the highway anytime they wish, Lord Jidu.’
‘Done!’ Lord Jidu’s cheeks bulged into a smile. ‘My word upon it! And gladly.’ Then in an attempt to reduce tensions, he bowed low. ‘I also salute your courage and wisdom, Lady, that this unfortunate confrontation has brought a closer bond between our two families.’
Mara gestured to Papewaio, who helped her rise. ‘I’ll have your vow, Jidu. Bring out your family sword.’
For a moment there was tension in the air again, for Mara was publicly demanding the most sacred oath in place of a simple assurance. Still, until the Tuscalora fields were clear of Acoma warriors, Lord Jidu dared not protest. He sent a servant to fetch the ancient sword of his forefathers, one as old as any in the Empire, precious steel wrapped in a simple sheath of cane wood. While Mara and her officer looked on, the Lord of the Tuscalora gripped the hilt and pronounced his oath to abide by his promise in the name of his ancestors.
At last satisfied, Mara gestured to her soldiers. They helped her back into her bloodstained litter. Her face seemed pale as she lay back in her cushions. Gently her retinue lifted her onto their shoulders. As they prepared to carry their wounded mistress home, Mara nodded at the Lord of the Tuscalora. ‘The debt is met fairly, Jidu. I will gladly tell anyone who asks that the Lord of the Tuscalora is a man of honour who meets his obligations without flinching.’ Then she added, pointedly, ‘And abides by his promises. All will know your word is your bond.’
The Lord of the Tuscalora stood unflinching under the sting of her sarcasm. He had underrated her and had lost a great deal of prestige through the mistake. But at least the breach of honour would not become public knowledge, and for that small grace he thanked the heavens.
When the Acoma retinue was safely away from the Tuscalora house, Mara closed her eyes and hid her face in her hands. Alarmed, Papewaio stepped closer to the litter. ‘You took a very great risk, my Lady. Yet you triumphed.’
Mara’s reply came muffled through her hands. ‘Many brave men were killed.’
Papewaio nodded. ‘But they died like warriors, mistress. Those who gained honour at your command will sing your praises before the gods.’ He fell silent then, for the litter seemed to be shaking. ‘My Lady?’
Papewaio looked to see what ailed his mistress. Behind the shield of her palms, Mara was weeping with anger. Papewaio left her to her own release for a time, then said, ‘If the gully is flooded, the Lord of the Tuscalora will have no easy way to take his crops to market.’
Mara’s hands came down. Despite red eyes and a white face, her expression showed crafty triumph. ‘If Jidu is forced to use the long pass around the gorge to reach the Imperial Highway, his chocha-la will spoil with mould by the time it reaches Sulan-Qu. That will cause hardship for my Lord of the Tuscalora, for I doubt he’ll be able to pay the toll I will impose upon use of my needra bridge.’ When Papewaio turned curious eyes upon his mistress, she added, ‘You heard Jidu vow never to oppose the Acoma? Well, that is a start. That fat dog will be my first vassal. Within the season, Pape, within the season.’
The Acoma Strike Leader marched along, considering what this young woman had accomplished since he had accompanied Keyoke to the temple to bring her home. He nodded once to himself. Yes, Jidu of the Tuscalora would bend his knee before Mara or else forfeit his harvest. Such were the ways of the game, and Mara had gained the victory. There could be no doubt.
The brightly painted litter sitting in the dooryard of the Acoma estate house confirmed that Bruli of the Kehotara awaited the Lady of the Acoma. Mara reined in her irritation. Returned from the hive of the cho-ja, whose growing Queen had offered wonderful balms for healing Mara’s shoulder, the young woman dismissed her bearers and escort. She must at least offer her personal greeting before giving Bruli an excuse to quit her presence, or else risk insult to the Kehotara. Which, Mara considered, might just be one of the reasons the Lord of the Minwanabi had dispatched his vassal’s handsome son to the Acoma estate.
Misa, the prettier of her personal maids, waited just inside the door. She held a comb and brush, and one arm was draped with a richly embroidered overrobe whose colours would set off her mistress’s dark eyes. Recognizing the hand of Nacoya in the appointing of the welcoming committee, Mara submitted without comment. With the slightest of frowns marring her brow, she stood while Misa’s hands expertly arranged her hair into a knot fastened with jewelled pins. The overrobe fastened in front with a row of flimsy ribbons, yet hid the white bandage that dressed the wound on her upper arm. Questioning Nacoya’s taste, Mara nodded briskly for Misa to retire, then made her way to the great hall where Nacoya was entertaining her guest in her absence.
The young son of the Kehotara rose and bowed formally on her entrance. He wore a costly robe buttoned with sapphires, the high cut of the hem and sleeves showing his legs and arms to good advantage.
‘Bruli, how pleasant to see you again.’ Mara sat on the cushions opposite the young man, bemused by his changed appearance. He was a good-looking man. Inwardly, she considered that most young ladies would have been flattered, even anxious, to