The Complete Empire Trilogy. Janny Wurts
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wife wears too much makeup to get wet unexpectedly.’
Nacoya subsided, with a comment that her eyes were not that good, nor had they been since she was youthful. Mara patted her adviser’s hand in reassurance. Then, resplendent in a gown embroidered with seed pearls, her coiled hair laced with green ribbons, she began her descent to the main floor. Papewaio followed her in dress armour; although he escorted his mistress and her First Adviser to a social occasion, he moved with vigilance more common to the battlefield. In most ways, state gatherings of Tsurani were more dangerous. Beneath the manners and the finery, ambitions changed; as alliances shifted within the Game of the Council, any Lord present could become the enemy. Few would hesitate to damage the Acoma, if his own stock might rise as a result. And on Minwanabi territory, others not normally at odds with Mara’s house might bend with the prevailing political wind.
Simple in her tastes, Mara was neither overwhelmed nor impressed by displays of great wealth. Her restrained clothing reinforced the impression already formed by the Lords and Ladies in the hall around her. Most believed her a young, inexperienced girl who sheltered her house under the marriage to the more powerful Anasati. Now, with Buntokapi dead, she was fair game once again. Mara was content to allow this misapprehension to continue as she passed by; it increased her chances to pick up a scrap of information, a comment, or a remark that could prove useful. As she reached the foot of the stairs and made her way towards the dais to greet the Minwanabi Lord, she watched the expressions of her peers and took stock of who stood gossiping with whom. Her temple-taught poise served her well. She responded politely to those who greeted her, but was not lulled by sweet smiles and warm words.
Jingu of the Minwanabi noted her approach with the ravenous interest of a jaguna. Mara saw him cease conversation with his advisers as she mounted the steps to accept his welcome. The moment gave her pause also, as for the first time she looked upon the face of her family’s oldest enemy. The Lord of the Minwanabi was a corpulent man. He had clearly not worn armour since his youth, but cunning and malice still glinted in his eyes. Pearl bands encircled his wrists, and shell ornaments dangled at his collar, shiny with the sweat that beaded his neck. His bow of greeting was slightly less than that due a Lady of ruling rank. ‘My Lady of the Acoma,’ he said, his voice as thick and unctuous as his appearance, ‘we are so pleased you chose to join us in honour of the Warlord.’
Aware the eyes of every noble in the room were turned to see how she handled this slight, Mara responded in kind, her own bow shallow and of short duration. ‘We thank the Lord of the Minwanabi for his kind invitation.’
Irritated by Mara’s poise, Jingu beckoned someone to the fore of the dais. ‘There is one here I believe you know.’ Then his lips curled into a hungry smile of anticipation.
The Lady of the Acoma showed no reaction to the woman who came at his call. The presence of Teani somewhere in the Minwanabi household was something Arakasi had forewarned her of: he had long since informed Mara that the concubine was a Minwanabi agent. But the fact that Buntokapi’s former lover had insinuated herself in Jingu’s innermost circle gave Mara pause. The woman was perhaps more clever than anyone had guessed. She was obviously a favourite, swathed as she was in rare silks and jewels, a chain of rarest metal encircling her slim neck. But ornaments and beauty could not entirely hide the ugliness of her character. Hatred for Mara burned in her pretty eyes, chilling in its intensity.
To acknowledge the look of a woman of her station would be an unnecessary courtesy, and too easily interpreted as an admission of weakness. Mara addressed her words and attentions solely to the Minwanabi Lord who sat at Teani’s left hand. ‘My adviser and I have just arrived after a long and tiresome journey. Would my Lord show us our places, that we might take some refreshment before the banquet and the festivities begin?’
Jingu rearranged the fringe on his costume with the flick of a pudgy finger. Then he called for a cool drink; while he waited for servants to fill his need, his hand absently stroked Teani’s arm, a gesture his wife ignored. When none might mistake the fact that he deferred the wishes of his Acoma guests until his own pleasures were satisfied, he nodded sweetly to a servant. ‘Escort the Lady Mara and her servants to the table third from the end, nearest the entrance to the kitchens, so that her party may more quickly be served.’ His fat girth jiggled as he openly laughed at the ingenuity of his insult.
A Lady of rank might find such placement degrading; but to Teani this gesture was not enough. Viciously piqued that Mara had ignored her, she interrupted. ‘You ought to seat this woman with the slaves, my Lord. All know the greatness of the Acoma rests upon the goodwill of the Anasati, and that even Lord Tecuma’s protection wore thin after the death of his son.’
This affront was too great to disregard. Still disdaining to answer Teani directly, Mara pointedly rose to the bait Jingu had dangled before her. She directed a gaze like flint to his fat, laughing face. ‘My Lord of the Minwanabi, all know of your … generosity, but surely even you can find little benefit in keeping another man’s leavings in your service.’
Jingu rested an arm around Teani’s shoulders and drew her slim body against his own. ‘But you confuse circumstance, Lady Mara. This woman was cast off by no man, but was only a mistress who survived her late master. I’ll remind you but once. Teani is a valued and worthy member of my household.’
‘Of course.’ Mara sketched a negligible bow of apology. ‘Given your widely known tastes, she should serve you well, Jingu. Indeed, my late husband had no complaints’ – Mara gave Teani the barest glance – ‘but then again, Bunto’s appetites were rather coarse.’
Teani’s eyes flashed sparks. The fact that Mara made no effort to respond directly to her insult made the courtesan furious. The Lord of the Minwanabi was in no way amused; this small near-virgin from Lashima’s temple had shown no sign of being cowed by treatment that demeaned her. Indeed, she had held her own through this first exchange of words. And since his house servant already hovered by her elbow to escort the Lady and her retinue to their places, Jingu had no graceful recourse other than to dismiss her.
The festivities passed slowly for Mara. The food, the musicians, and the dancers were all the finest, but the table nearest the kitchen was hot, noisy, and beset by the constant bustle of servants passing by. The heat and the odours from cooking caused Nacoya to feel ill, and well before the first course of the banquet had been laid Papewaio looked strained. The incessant movement of strangers to and from the kitchen kept him on edge, particularly since every passing tray contained items that were weapons to a trained hand. He had overheard Mara’s remark to Nacoya about ‘accidents’. And while it was unlikely the Lord of the Minwanabi would attempt to stage a murder in this public setting, Teani’s venomous gaze never left Mara. The Acoma Strike Leader’s caution remained on a knife edge. When the rare ices served for dessert were cleared away, Papewaio gently touched his mistress’s shoulder. ‘Lady, I suggest you retire to your chambers before dark. The hallways are strange, and if you await the Minwanabi’s pleasure, the servant he assigns you might have other instructions.’
Mara returned from what seemed a long period of concentrated thought. Her hair was perfectly coiled and her manner alert, but dark circles of fatigue underlined her eyes. ‘We must find a way to send word to the barracks, that Arakasi will know which suite to leave messages at if the need should arise.’
Papewaio answered grimly. ‘We can do nothing without risking discovery, Lady. Trust Arakasi. His agents can reach him without danger, and he will find you himself if there is need.’
Unable to be heard over the scrape of the tables as servants cleared the hall for an exhibition of tumblers, Mara only nodded. She patted Nacoya’s arm, then arose to make her excuses to the Lord of the Minwanabi. The headache that plagued her was real enough, and since the Warlord would not make his appearance until the morrow, her departure would cause no offence. If anything, she wished to leave the impression that she was young, inexperienced, and lacking in subtlety. An early retirement would reinforce that impression with the guests, perhaps granting her a breather to formulate a defence. Minwanabi would have a difficult time completing his plots with the eyes of every rival seeking an opening to exploit ahead of him.
Mara sent the servant who cleared away the plates to inform the Lord of