The Complete Empire Trilogy: Daughter of the Empire, Mistress of the Empire, Servant of the Empire. Janny Wurts
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his midday nap. Indulgently smiling, Mara changed course for the nursery. Intrigue and the great Game of the Council could wait until after she had visited her son.
When next he arrived to court Mara, Bruli of the Kehotara was accompanied by a dozen dancers, all expert in their art, who spun and jumped with astonishing athletic grace as a full score of musicians played. The litter that followed this procession was yet another new one, bedecked with metal and fringed with beaded gems. Mara squinted against the dazzle of reflected sunlight and judged her suitor’s style was approaching the pomp favoured by the Lord of the Anasati.
She whispered to Nacoya, ‘Why does each entrance become more of a circus?’
The old woman rubbed her hands together. ‘I’ve told your young suitor that you appreciate a man who can proudly display his wealth to the world, though I wasn’t quite that obvious.’
Mara returned a sceptical glance. ‘How did you know he would listen?’
Nacoya waved airily at the young man who leaned hopefully out of his litter, that he might catch a glimpse of the Lady he came to court. ‘Daughter, have you not learned, even now? Love can make fools of even the best men.’
Mara nodded, at last understanding why her former nurse had insisted she play the wanton. Bruli could never have been coerced into spending such a fortune simply to carry out his father’s wishes. That morning Arakasi had received a report that the boy had come near to bankrupting the already shaky financial standing of the Kehotara. His father, Mekasi, would fare awkwardly if he had to appeal to Jingu’s good graces to save his honour.
‘To get between your legs, that boy would spend his father centiless.’ With a shake of her head Nacoya said, ‘He is to be pitied, a little. Serving up Misa in your stead has done what you wished: only heightened his appetite for you. The fool has fallen passionately in love.’
The First Adviser’s comment was nearly lost in a fanfare of horns. Vielle players ripped into a finale of arpeggios as Bruli’s party mounted the steps to the estate house and entered the garden. The dancers simultaneously twirled, dropping in a semicircle of bows before Mara as Bruli made his appearance. Now his black hair was crimped into ringlets, and his arms bore heavy bracelets of chased enamel work. As he came over to Mara, his strut faltered. Instead of the skimpy robe he had come to expect, she was wearing a formal white robe, with long sleeves and a hemline well below her knees.
Though he sensed some difficulty, he managed his bow with grace. ‘My Lady?’ he said as he waved his retinue aside.
Mara motioned for her servants to stand apart. Frowning a little, as if she struggled with disappointment too great to hide, she said, ‘Bruli, I have come to understand something.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘I have been alone … and you are a very handsome man. I … I have acted poorly.’ She finished the rest in a rush. ‘I have let desire rule my judgement, and now I discover that you think me another silly woman to add to your list of conquests.’
‘But no!’ interrupted Bruli, instantly concerned. ‘I think you a paragon among women, Mara.’ His voice softened almost to reverence. ‘More than that, I love you, Mara. I would never consider conquest concerning a woman I wish to wed.’
His sincerity swayed Mara for only a second. Despite his beauty, Bruli was but another vain young warrior, with little gift for thought or wisdom.
Mara stepped back as he reached for her. ‘I wish to believe you, Bruli, but your own actions deny your pretty words. Just two nights ago you found my maid an easy substitute for …’ How easily the lie came, she thought. ‘I was ready to give myself to you, sweet Bruli. But I find you are simply another adventurer of the heart, and I a poor, plain widow.’
Bruli dropped immediately to one knee, a servant’s gesture, and shocking for its sincerity. He began earnestly to profess his love, but Mara turned sharply away. ‘I cannot hear this. It breaks my heart.’ Feigning injury too great to support, she fled the garden.
As the tap of her sandals faded into the house, Bruli slowly rose from his knees. Finding Nacoya by his elbow, he gestured in embarrassed confusion. ‘Ancient mother, if she will not listen to me, how may I prove my love?’
Nacoya clucked understandingly and patted the young man’s arm, steering him deftly through musicians and dancers to his dazzlingly appointed litter. ‘Girls have little strength, Bruli. You must be gentle and patient. I think some small gift or another, sent with a letter, or, better, a poem, might sway her heart. Perhaps one a day until she calls you back.’ Touching the fringes with admiring hands, Nacoya said, ‘You had her won, you know. Had you shown restraint enough to leave that maid alone, she surely would have become your wife.’
Frustration became too much for Bruli. ‘But I thought she wished me to take the girl!’ His rings rattled as he folded his arms in pique. ‘The maid was certainly bold enough in the tub and … it is not the first time I have been given a servant for sport by my host.’
Nacoya played the role of grandmother to the limit of her ability. ‘Ah, you poor boy. You know so little about the heart of a female. I wager no woman you paid court to ever sent her maids to warm your bed.’ She wagged her finger under his nose. ‘It was another man who did so, eh?’
Bruli stared at the fine gravel of the path, forced to admit she was correct. Nacoya nodded briskly. ‘See, it was, in a manner of speaking, a test.’ As his eyes began to narrow, she said, ‘Not by design, I assure you; simply put, had you dressed and left at once, my mistress would have been yours for the asking. Now …’
Bruli flung back crimped locks and groaned. ‘What am I to do?’
‘As I said, gifts.’ Nacoya’s tone turned chiding. ‘And I think you should prove your passion may be answered only by true love. Send away those girls you keep at your hostelry in the city.’
Bruli stiffened in immediate suspicion. ‘You have spies! How else could you know I have two women of the Reed Life at my quarters in the city?’
Though Arakasi’s operatives had indeed proved that fact, Nacoya only nodded in ancient wisdom. ‘See, I guessed right! And if an old, simple woman such as myself can guess, then so must my Lady.’ Short and wizened beside the proud warrior, she ushered him to the dooryard where his litter waited. ‘You must go, young master Bruli. If your heart is to win its reward, you must not be seen talking overlong with me! My Lady might suspect me of advising you, and that would never please her. Go quickly, and be unstinting in the proof of your devotion.’
The son of Mekasi reluctantly settled onto his cushions. His slaves shouldered the poles of his gaudy litter, and like clockwork toys, the musicians began to play the appointed recessional. Dancers whirled in joyful gyrations, until a carping shout from their master ended their display. The vielles scraped and fell silent, and a last, tardy horn player set the needra bulls bellowing in the pastures. How fitting that his send-off came from the beasts, Nacoya thought as, in a sombre band, his cortege departed for Sulan-Qu. The hot sun of midday wilted the flower garlands on the heads of the dancers and slaves, and almost the Acoma First Adviser felt sorry for the young man. Almost.
The gifts began to arrive the next day. A rare bird that sang a haunting song came first, with a note in fairly bad poetry. Nacoya read it after Mara had laid it aside, and commented, ‘The calligraphy is well practised. He must have spent a few dimis hiring a poet to write this.’
‘Then he wasted his wealth. It’s awful.’ Mara waved for a servant to clear away the colourful paper wrappings that had covered the bird’s cage. The bird itself hopped from perch to reed perch, singing its tiny heart out.
Just then Arakasi bowed at the entrance of the study. ‘My Lady, I have discovered the identity of the Kehotara agent.’
As an afterthought, Mara directed the slaves to carry the bird to another chamber. As its warble diminished down the corridor, she said, ‘Who?’
Arakasi accepted her invitation to enter. ‘One of Bruli’s servants hurried to send a message, warning his father of his excesses, I think. But the odd thing is another slave,