The Complete Empire Trilogy: Daughter of the Empire, Mistress of the Empire, Servant of the Empire. Janny Wurts
‘You may leave now, and attend your duties.’
The hadonra bowed from a kneeling position until his forehead touched the foor, an obeisance more abject than required from a man in his position. ‘I bask in the sunlight of my mistress’s praise.’
Jican rose and departed as a house servant came forward to gather the scrolls from the floor. Nacoya hurried through the doorway as the hadonra passed by. More servants followed at her heels with trays of refreshments, and with a sigh, Mara wished her overly abundant domestic staff could be transformed into soldiers.
Nacoya bowed, then sat before Mara had a chance to grant her leave. Over the soft clink of the serving ware and the bustle of servants setting down trays, she said, ‘Does my Lady think she should work all morning and take no meals?’ Her old, dark eyes turned critical. ‘You’ve lost weight since you left for the temple. Some men might think you scrawny.’
Still preoccupied with her discussion with Jican, Mara spoke as though she had not heard. ‘I have undertaken to learn of my estates and properties. You chose with care in selecting this Jican, Nacoya. Though I remember Sotamu with affection, this man seems a master of commerce.’
Nacoya’s manner softened. ‘I presumed much, mistress, but decisiveness was necessary at the time.’
‘You did well.’ Mara regarded the array of food, the odour of fresh thyza bread wakening her awareness of hunger. She reached for a slice, frowned, then added, ‘And I’m not scrawny. Our meals at the temple were not so plain as you think.’ She took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. She regarded her indomitable nurse. ‘Now, what must we do?’
Nacoya pursed her lips, a sure sign that she broached what she guessed to be a difficult subject. ‘We must move quickly to strengthen your house, Lady. Without blood family, you make a tempting target for many. Even those with no prior cause for strife with the Acoma might look upon your holdings with an envious and ambitious eye. Land and herds might not tempt a minor lord to move against your father, but against a young girl with no training? “There is a hand behind every curtain,”’ she quoted.
‘“And a knife in every hand,”’ finished Mara. She set her bread aside. ‘I understand, Nacoya. I have thought that we must send for recruits.’
Nacoya shook her head with such sharpness that her precariously pinned hair threatened to come loose. ‘That is a difficult and dangerous proposition to attempt at this time.’
‘Why?’ Mara had forgotten the food in her annoyance. ‘I just reviewed assets with Jican. The Acoma have more than enough wealth to suport twenty-five hundred soldiers. We even have enough to pay for recruiting fees.’
But Nacoya had not been referring to the fact a new master must indemnify the former master for each recruit’s training. Gently she reminded, ‘Too many have died, Mara-anni. The family ties that remain are too few to matter.’ Tsurani tradition required that only a relative of a soldier already serving could join a household’s garrison. As eldest sons tended to assume the same loyalties as their fathers, such recruits were further limited to second or later sons. Bearing these facts in mind, Nacoya added, ‘With the heavy recruiting your father undertook prior to the invasion of the barbarian world, most of the able men have already been called. Any you found now would be young and unseasoned. The Lord of the Minwanabi will act before such as those would prove any benefit.’
‘I have given that some thought.’ Mara reached under the writing table before her and removed a case, delicately carved of costly hardwoods. ‘I sent to the Guild of Porters this morning. The representative who arrives will be told to give this into the hand of the Lord of the Minwanabi, under bond and without message.’ Grim now, Mara handed the box to Nacoya.
Nacoya opened the finely crafted catch and raised an eyebrow at what rested within. A single red cord, darkened with blood from Mara’s hand, lay coiled next to a shatra feather. Closing the box as though it contained a scarlet dhast, the most venomous of serpents, Nacoya said, ‘You openly announce blood feud with House Minwanabi.’
‘I only acknowledge a feud begun ages ago!’ Mara shot back, the murder of her father and brother too near yet for temperance. ‘I am only telling Jingu that another generation of Acoma stands ready to oppose him.’ Embarrassed suddenly by her emotions, the girl stared at the food tray. ‘Mother of my heart, I am inexperienced in the Game of the Council, but I remember many nights when father discussed with Lano those things he plotted, teaching a son each move, and the reason for it. His daughter listened as well.’
Nacoya set the box aside and nodded. Mara looked up, sweating lightly in the heat, but composed. ‘Our enemy the Minwanabi will think this represents something more subtle than it does. He will seek to parry whatever move he thinks we plot, giving us the chance to plan. All I can do now is hope to gain us time.’
Nacoya was silent, then said, ‘Daughter of my heart, your boldness is admirable, yet while this gesture may gain you a day, a week, even more, in the end the Lord of the Minwanabi will move to obliterate all things Acoma.’ The old nurse leaned forward, insistent. ‘You must find allies, and for that, only one course remains open to you. You must marry. Quickly.’
Mara shot erect so abruptly that her knee banged the leg of the writing table. ‘No!’ A strained silence developed, while a dislodged parchment floated in her soup dish.
Nacoya brusquely disregarded her mistress’s temper. ‘You have no other choice, child. As Ruling Lady you must seek out a consort from among the younger sons of certain houses in the Empire. A marriage with a son of the Shinzawai, the Tukareg, or the Chochapan would gain an alliance with a house able to protect us.’ She fell silent a moment, then said, ‘For as long as any could. Still, time might tip the balance.’
Mara’s cheeks flushed, and her eyes widened. ‘I’ve never seen any of the boys you have named. I will not wed a stranger!’
Nacoya stood. ‘You speak now from anger, and your heart rules your mind. Had you never entered the temple, your husband would have been selected from those found acceptable by your father or your brother after him. As Lady of the Acoma, you must do as much for the sake of your house. I leave you to think upon this.’
The nurse wrapped old fingers around the box to be delivered by the Porters’ Guild to the Lord of the Minwanabi. She bowed stiffly and left.
Mara sat in silent rage, eyes fixed unseeing upon the soaked parchment, which slowly sank in the depths of the soup bowl. The thought of marriage evoked nameless fears, rooted somehow in her grief. She shivered, though the day was hot, and snapped her fingers for servants to remove the food trays. She would rest, and contemplate alone upon what her aged nurse had instructed.
Upon Keyoke’s recommendation, Mara remained within the estate house throughout the afternoon. Although she would have preferred to continue her review of the Acoma holdings by litter, her warriors were too depleted; a retinue would be needed to ensure her safety in the open, leaving fewer guards available for routine patrols. Too conscientious to remain idle, the girl studied documents, to acquire further familiarity with the more distant assets of her family. She called for a light meal. The shadows lengthened, and the heat of the afternoon settled into stillness.
In the course of her reading, the Lady of the Acoma had come to understand a subtle but important fact of Tsurani life, one emphasized often by her father but only now appreciated: honour and tradition were but two walls of a great house; power and wealth comprised the other two. And of the four, it was the latter pair that kept the roof from collapsing. Mara clenched her fist against the handle of the scroll. If somehow she could keep those enemies who sought her death at bay, until she could muster the strength to enter the Game of the Council, then … She abandoned the thought unfinished. Keeping the Lords of the Minwanabi and Anasati at bay was the problem at hand. Vengeance was a useless dream unless she could secure her family’s survival.
Deep in thought, Mara did not hear Nacoya call softly from the doorway. ‘Mistress?’ the nurse repeated.
Mara glanced up, startled, and motioned the old nurse inside. She waited, preoccupied and aloof, while the old woman bowed,