The Complete Empire Trilogy. Janny Wurts
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still ranks of the Acoma soldiers who closed the north end of the circle.
‘Arakasi,’ she said; and though her summons was barely above a whisper, the Spy Master heard.
He stepped forward and bowed.
‘I pray to the gods I have chosen wisely,’ Mara murmured as she gave the torch and the plume into his hands.
Arakasi straightened and regarded her with dark, enigmatic eyes. Then, without comment, he turned and cried out for his companion at arms, Papewaio. The priest of Chochocan re-entered the circle with a reed cage that contained a white-plumed tirik bird, symbol of the spirit of rebirth. As the flames touched the kindling stack beneath Papewaio’s muscled corpse, the priest slashed the reed constraints with a knife. And Mara watched, her eyes misted, as the white bird shot skyward and vanished into the rain.
Fire hissed and cracked, smoky in the dampness. The guests waited a respectful interval before they filed slowly back to the estate house. Mara remained, along with her fifty warriors and her newly chosen honour guard, waiting for the fire to burn out and the priests of Chochocan and Turakamu to gather Papewaio’s ashes. These would be enclosed within an urn and buried beneath the wall of the Acoma contemplation glade, to honour the fact that Papewaio had died in loyal service to the family. For a time, Mara was alone with Arakasi, away from the scrutiny of the guests.
‘You did not bring Nacoya with you,’ Arakasi murmured, his words barely audible over the snap of the pyre. ‘Mistress, that was clever.’
His choice of words pierced the lethargy left by grief. Mara turned her head slightly, studying the Spy Master to analyse the reason for the edge of sarcasm she had detected in his tone. ‘Nacoya is in the estate house, ill.’ Mara paused, waiting for a reply. When none came, she added, ‘We shall be joining her within the hour. Do you think you can keep us alive until evening?’ The remainder of the day had been set aside for contemplation and remembrance of Papewaio. But she referred to the fact that, once away from the bier, the guests would reassume the ongoing machinations of the game; and Arakasi, though competent, was not her most proficient swordsman.
The Spy Master accepted the implication with the barest indication of a smile. ‘Very wise, indeed, my Lady.’
And by his tone of relief, Mara understood. He had thought she intended to flee the Minwanabi, now, while she was reunited with her warriors. Nacoya would have agreed to remain behind towards this end, an intentional sacrifice to blind Minwanabi to her mistress’s intention to break and run for home. Mara swallowed, pained again by grief. How readily the old woman might have embraced such a ruse, her abandonment in an enemy house a gambit to ensure Acoma continuance.
‘Papewaio was sacrifice enough,’ Mara said, sharply enough for Arakasi to know that flight was the last of her intentions.
The Spy Master nodded fractionally. ‘Good. You would not have survived, in any event. Minwanabi has ringed his estates with his armies, with the appearance of safe-guarding the presence of his guests. But over their drink and their dice, his soldiers admit that many others without colours wait outside the estate borders, posing as pirates or roving bands of outlaws, to trap the Lady of the Acoma.’
Mara’s eyes widened. ‘And how did you know this? By borrowing an orange tunic and mingling with the enemy?’
Arakasi chuckled, very low in his throat. ‘Hardly that, my Lady. I have informants.’ He regarded his mistress, studying a face that was pale but for the faint flush lent by the heat of the fire. Her slight frame was straight, and her eyes afraid but determined. ‘Since we stay and confront the Lord of the Minwanabi, there are things you should know.’
Now Mara showed the slightest indication of triumph. ‘Loyal Arakasi. I chose you because I trusted you to hate the Lord of the Minwanabi as I do. We understand each other very well. Now tell me all you know that will help me to humble this man who murdered my family and a warrior who was most dear to my heart.’
‘He has a weak link in his household,’ Arakasi said without preamble. ‘A relli in his nest that he does not know about. I have discovered that Teani is an Anasati spy.’
Mara drew a startled breath. ‘Teani?’ She assessed this and suddenly felt more than the chill of the rain. All along, Nacoya had insisted that the concubine had been more dangerous than Mara credited; and Mara had not listened, a mistake that might have cost her everything she had struggled to gain, for here was a Minwanabi servant who had no concern should Mara’s death cost Jingu his life and honour. In fact, to arrange such a pass would no doubt please Tecuma, as it would avenge Buntokapi’s death and remove the man most likely to cause little Ayaki harm. Mara wasted no time on recriminations but at once began to calculate how this information might be used to her advantage. ‘What else do you know of Teani?’
‘The news is very recent. Word just reached me last night.’ Arakasi lifted the plume and, by tilting his head to affix it to his helm, managed to speak directly into Mara’s ear. ‘I know the concubine shares her favours with one of the higher-ranking officers, which the Lord suspects but has not proven. Jingu has many women he calls upon, but she is his favourite. He does not care to do without her … talents long.’
Mara considered this, gazing into the flames of Papewaio’s pyre; and a memory returned, of fire and dark, when Pape had lain still warm in the courtyard at her feet. Teani had accompanied the Lord of the Minwanabi. While Jingu had made a show of surprise, Teani seemed genuinely startled by Mara’s presence. Jingu had spoken briefly to Shimizu, who had surely been Pape’s executioner, while Teani’s eyes had followed the Minwanabi’s Strike Leader with contempt of a startling intensity. Mara had been preoccupied with Papewaio at the time, and the concubine’s twisted hatred had not seemed significant. Now, though, the memory gained importance, particularly since Teani’s reaction had caused Shimizu discomfort. ‘What is the name of Teani’s lover?’ Mara inquired.
Arakasi shook his head. ‘I don’t know, mistress. But when we reach the estate house, I can send my agent there to find out.’
Mara turned her head away as the flames consumed Papewaio’s body. Watching was too painful, and the gesture gave her a better chance to speak to Arakasi over the loud crackle of the flames. ‘I will wager a full year’s harvest it’s Shimizu.’
Arakasi nodded, his expression set with sympathy as if his Lady expressed some thought on the valour of the departed. ‘No bet, mistress; he’s the most likely candidate.’
The oil-soaked wood beneath Papewaio finally caught, and flame erupted skyward, hot enough to consume even bone and hardened hide armour. Only ashes would remain when the pyre cooled.
‘Pape,’ murmured Mara. ‘You will be avenged along with my father and brother.’ And now, while the sky wept cold drizzle, the fires consumed all that was mortal of the staunchest warrior Mara had known. She waited, no longer cold, her mind preoccupied with the beginning of a plan.
Mara returned to the Warlord’s suite following Papewaio’s funeral. Soaked to the skin, and accompanied by an honour guard who also dripped wet on the waxed wooden floor, she found Nacoya up from her sleeping mat. In a waspish frame of mind, the old woman ordered Mara’s two maids to stop fussing over the carry boxes for the move to new quarters and attend their mistress at once.
The Lady of the Acoma fended off the attentions of the maids, sending them back to their packing. Though aware that Nacoya was overwrought, she saw little sense in rushing the process of changing and refreshing herself after the funeral. For now she needed the security of the Warlord’s suite.
Mara paused long enough to shake her dripping hair loose from its coil. Then she nodded to Arakasi, who placed the urn containing Papewaio’s remains by the carry boxes and stepped forward.
‘Go and seek Desio,’ Mara instructed the man who now played the role of warrior. ‘Tell him we will need servants to conduct us and our belongings to the new suite the Lord of the Minwanabi has seen fit to assign the Acoma.’
Arakasi bowed, showing no sign that his orders would be taken any way but literally. He left in silence, knowing Mara would