Servant of the Empire (15 page)

‘Then what is your surmise?’

Silent a long moment, Arakasi replied, ‘Tasaio is in command, I would wager. He has a mind as devious and keen as any I’ve encountered. He served Lord Jingu well in the obliteration of the Tuscai.’ All, save Kevin, knew the fallen house was the one Arakasi served before coming to Mara’s service. ‘Tasaio is a very sharp sword in his master’s hands. But working under his own direction … it is hard to judge what he would do. I think Tasaio probes. His warriors could have been ordered to die so that he might test something about House Acoma. I judge it a gambit.’

‘For what?’

‘If we knew, mistress, we would be planning counter-measures, instead of pondering possibilities.’

Mara paused through a tense moment. ‘Arakasi, is it possible we have a spy in our own ranks?’

Kevin watched in curiosity as the Acoma Spy Master subsided once more into stillness. Close scrutiny revealed that the man had a knack for arranging himself in a fashion that caused him to blend with his surroundings. ‘Lady, since the day I swore oath on your natami, I have instigated diligent checks. I know of no traitor in our midst.’

The Lady made a frustrated gesture. ‘But why attack a thyza caravan between the estate and Sulan-Qu, unless somebody guesses what plans we have afoot? Arakasi, our next grain shipment is to conceal our new silk samples. If that was information the Minwanabi sought to discover, our troubles might be grave indeed. Our cho-ja silk
must
take the merchants at the auctions by surprise. Revenue and standing will be lost if our secret is discovered beforehand.’

Arakasi inclined his head, conveying both agreement and assurance. ‘The raid by Desio’s soldiers might have been coincidence, but I concur with you. We dare not presume so. Most likely he probes to discover why we arm our caravans so heavily.’

‘Why not give them a red herring?’ offered Kevin.

‘Herring?’ snapped Keyoke with impatience. By this time, Mara’s Force Commander had grown resigned to the barbarian’s out-of-turn remarks; he could not be made to think like a slave, and the Lady at some point, and for reasons of her own, had decided not to enforce protocol. But Arakasi and the Midkemian had never encountered each other previously, and the impertinence came as a surprise.

The Spy Master’s eyes glinted in the shadows as he looked at the tall man who stood behind Mara’s shoulder. Never one to entangle his intellect with preconceptions, he discarded both the man’s rank and his insolence as irrelevant, and fastened what proved to be an almost frighteningly intense interest upon the concept behind Kevin’s suggestion. ‘You use a word for a species of fish, but imply something very different.’

‘A ruse of sorts.’ Kevin accompanied his explanation with his usual expansive gestures. ‘If something is to be hidden in a thyza shipment, confuse the enemy by burying wrapped and sealed packages in every wagon that carries goods. Then the enemy must either spread his resources thin and intercept all outgoing caravans, and thereby make plain his intentions, or else abandon the attempt.’

Arakasi blinked very fast, like a hawk. His thoughts moved faster still. ‘And the silk samples would be in none of these shipments,’ he concluded, ‘but concealed somewhere else, perhaps even in plain sight, where silks might ordinarily be in evidence.’

Kevin’s eyes lit up. ‘Precisely. Perhaps you could sew them as the lining of robes, or maybe even as a separate shipment of scarves.’

‘The concept is sound,’ Mara said, and Arakasi nodded tacit agreement. ‘We could even have servants wear under-robes of the fine silk beneath their usual travelling robes.’

That moment, someone outside knocked insistently at the screen. Arakasi faded into his corner as if by reflex, and Mara called an inquiry.

The screen whipped back to admit the dishevelled Acoma First Adviser in a red-faced state of agitation. Keyoke settled back on his cushions and loosened his tense hand from his sword hilt as Nacoya descended upon her mistress, scolding even as she made her obligatory bow.

‘My Lady, just look at your clothes!’ The former nurse turned her eyes heavenward in despair.

Surprised, Mara glanced at her lounging robe, draped open in the heat, and showing dust about the collar from her earlier visit to the cho-ja hive.

‘And your hair!’ Nacoya ranted on, now shaking a wizened finger in reproach. ‘A mess! All tangles, when it should be shiny-clean and scented. We’re going to need a dozen maids, at least.’ Then, as if noticing Keyoke’s and Arakasi’s presence at the same time, she clucked in renewed affront. ‘Out!’ she cried. ‘Your mistress must be made presentable very quickly.’

‘Nacoya!’ Mara snapped. ‘What gives you cause to descend upon my private council and order my officers about like house staff? And why is the matter of my personal appearance suddenly so urgent?’

Nacoya stiffened like a stung jigabird. ‘By Lashima most holy, Lady, how could you forget? How could you?’

‘Forget?’ Mara shoved back a fallen strand of hair in honest confusion. ‘Forget what?’

Nacoya huffed, speechless at last. Arakasi intervened very
gently and answered for her. ‘The little grandmother most likely refers to Hokanu of the Shinzawai, whose retinue I passed on the road from Sulan-Qu.’

The Acoma First Adviser now recovered poise with acerbity. ‘That young gentleman’s letter of inquiry has sat on your desk for a week, my Lady. You answered him with an acceptance, and now you offer him insult by not being ready to greet him upon his arrival.’

Mara used a word not at all in keeping with her station. This brought another squawk from Nacoya and an outright grin from Kevin, whose command of Tsurani obscenities had been learned from a particularly colourful slave driver and remained his most comprehensive vocabulary.

Nacoya vented her frustration by clapping sharply for Mara’s bath attendants. Through the resulting pandemonium as slave girls descended with basins and towels, and armloads of fine jewelled clothing, Mara dismissed her Force Commander. While three sets of hands removed her clothing, she fought one wrist free and gestured at the bundled silk samples brought from the cho-ja hive. ‘Arakasi, decide what to do with these. Jican will tell you when they’re due to arrive at Jamar. Contrive some subterfuge to get them there unnoticed.’

The Spy Master returned an unobtrusive bow and departed with the bundle. Kevin remained. Forgotten in his place behind his mistress’s cushions, he spent the next minute being tantalized by the sight of Mara standing in her tub while her servants poured hot water over her lithe body. Then she sat slowly, gracefully. While she rested in the tub, her woman servants soaping her down and washing her hair, Kevin repeatedly caught glimpses of nude flesh. Motionless in the corner, he inwardly cursed the inadequate coverage of his brief Tsurani garment, as the sight of his pretty young mistress caused his manhood to rise up again in appreciation. Like an embarrassed kitchen boy, he stood
with both hands folded before his groin and tried to focus on unpleasant thoughts to bring his unruly body back under control.

When the Lady of the Acoma emerged at speed from the attentions of her maids and bath servants, Kevin followed in his accustomed place, mostly because no one in authority had bothered to tell him otherwise. Jewelled, primped, and clad in a fine overrobe sewn with seed pearls and emeralds, Mara was far too agitated to note the barbarian slave who had been a part of her retinue for almost a month now. She swept through the hallways with a frown pinching the skin between her eyebrows. Kevin, grown familiar enough to guess at her moods, determined that this Hokanu of the Shinzawai came for something outside the usual social visit. In many ways, Mara preferred involved financial discussions with her hadonra to meeting the social obligations that fell to her as ruler of a time-honoured Tsurani house.

At Nacoya’s furiously whispered reminder, Mara slowed her step before the entry to the enclosed courtyard, which at this hour was the coolest place in which to make a guest comfortable. The First Adviser patted her charge’s wrist and delivered last-minute instructions. ‘Be charming with this man, daughter of my heart, but do not underestimate his perception. He is no importunate boy like poor Bruli, to be swayed by the follies of romance, and you have certainly offended him by keeping him waiting.’

Mara nodded distractedly and shed the protective Nacoya. With Kevin still on her heels, she stepped out into the dappled shade of the courtyard.

Cushions had been laid by the fountain, and a tray with refreshments close by. Both appeared untouched. At Mara’s entrance, a slim, well-muscled man paused between steps in what must by now have been the last of a dozen restless tours along the garden pathways. He wore blue silk sewn
with topaz and rubies, robes obviously tailored for the son of a powerful family. Now more practised at reading Tsurani inscrutability, Kevin did not look at the handsome but expressionless face for enlightenment; instead he checked the hands, which were well formed and strongly sword-callused. He noted the slight spring in the stride as the young man turned to greet the Lady, and also noted the tenseness in carriage that conclusively betrayed annoyance.

Still, the voice emerged pleasantly tempered. ‘Lady Mara, I am pleased. Are you well?’

Mara swept him a bow, her jewels flashing in stray flecks of sunlight through the leaves. ‘Hokanu of the Shinzawai, I am well enough to know better. You are irked at my tardiness, and for that I plead no excuses.’ She stood upright, the top of her forehead barely level with his chin. To meet his dark eyes, she had to tilt her head up in a manner that, entirely without artifice, made her stunning. ‘What can the Acoma do but ask your forgiveness?’ Mara paused with a disarmingly sheepish smile. ‘Quite simply, I forgot what time it was.’

For a second, Hokanu looked outraged. Then, obviously at a loss before the Lady’s appeal, and taken by the fact she had not lied to him, his teeth flashed in a burst of honest laughter. ‘Mara, you confound me! Were you a warrior, I should be trading sword blows with you. As it is, I can only note that you owe me a debt. I’ll claim your company as my compensation.’

Mara stepped forward and allowed him a briefly formal embrace. ‘Maybe I should have met you at the door in the crumpled robe I wore to council,’ she suggested wickedly.

Hokanu continued to grip her hand in a manner Kevin interpreted as possessive. The young man’s ability to conceal his eagerness behind a façade of astonishing grace annoyed the Midkemian slave, although he could not have said why. When the nobleman responded to the Lady’s quip
with another laugh, saying, ‘Do that next time,’ Kevin found himself scowling.

Normally Mara was quick-witted, and assertive when dealing with her male staff and those few state visitors Kevin had observed during his tenure as her body servant. With Hokanu, her wit became less acerbic, and the spirit he had grudgingly come to admire became obscured by inexplicable diffidence. Mara seemed guarded against showing pleasure as she allowed the young warrior to settle her down on the cushions; plainly she found the young man’s company enjoyable. With submissive courtesy she called Kevin to serve food and drink. Hokanu accepted a dish of spirit-soaked fruits and a goblet of sa wine. His dark eyes flicked with interest over the Midkemian. Kevin momentarily felt inspected inside and out, like merchandise; then the nobleman turned teasingly to Mara.

‘I see that you have tamed this sarcat of a barbarian most admirably. He appears to have learned his place somewhat better than others of his kind.’

Mara hid amusement behind the rim of her chocha cup as she took a small swallow. ‘So it might seem,’ she said quietly. ‘Did you find the slaves your father required in the ngaggi swamps?’

Hokanu’s eyes flickered as he inclined his head. ‘The matter has been resolved satisfactorily.’ Then, as though aware that Mara had been as reticent with him as he with her concerning their mutual but unspoken interest in Midkemians, he returned the subject to Kevin’s physical attributes, as though the redheaded Midkemian were not present and listening.

‘He looks as strong as a needra bull and should do very well at clearing the land for your pastures.’

Ill accustomed to being discussed like an animal, Kevin opened his mouth and observed that he would rather take wagers over arm wrestling. Before he could be so bold as to
challenge the elegant Shinzawai warrior to a match, Mara’s face paled. With dramatically fast timing, she forestalled his next line. ‘Slave! You are no longer needed here. Send Misa to attend us. Then go to the front courtyard and help Jican see to the needs of Hokanu’s caravan.’

Kevin’s lip curled daringly into a half-smile as he made his slave’s bow, still slightly less than custom dictated, to Mara’s everlasting irritation. Then, with a glance at Hokanu that came just shy of spiteful, he spun on his heel and departed. The only flaw in his performance was the fact that the short Tsurani robe looked ridiculous on him, a detail Hokanu did not overlook.

The comment half-heard as Kevin stepped through the screen into the corridor was close to indecent, considering the presence of the Lady. With a vicious twist of anger, Kevin wished he could pick a fight, then, with equally surprising candour, he realized he felt jealous. ‘Damn him, and damn her, too,’ he muttered to himself. To even think of an infatuation with Mara was sure invitation to get himself strung by the neck from the nearest ulo tree, probably head down over a slow fire. If he was to gain anything from this woman, it would not be through dalliance. Somehow, against all expectations and traditions, he would contrive a way to be free again.