The Complete Empire Trilogy: Daughter of the Empire, Mistress of the Empire, Servant of the Empire. Janny Wurts
to a noble house, for he could easily have been a master of the Reed Life and retired wealthy from the rewards of sharing his charms with powerful clients.
‘My Lady, I am pleased to see you again.’ Bruli seated himself, neatly tucking his sandals beneath his calves. ‘I trust the business with your neighbour went well?’
Mara nodded absently. ‘Merely a small debt from Jidu to my late Lord Buntokapi that needed settlement. The matter has been resolved.’
A flicker of interest stirred in the eyes of the young man, at odds with his languid expression. Reminded that Bruli might himself be an agent for the Minwanabi, Mara steered the conversation away from her contention with Lord Jidu. ‘My outing this morning has left me tired and hot. If you will join me, I will have my servant bring wine and cakes to the garden.’ To allow her tactic time to have effect, she seized upon the simplest excuse. ‘I will meet you there after I change into a more comfortable robe.’
Nacoya nodded almost imperceptibly, telling Mara that her delay had been opportune. The young suitor bowed. While a servant led him away, the First Adviser to the Acoma hurried to her mistress’s side, her usual grouchy manner replaced by solicitude. ‘Did the cho-ja ease your pain?’
‘Yes.’ Mara fingered the ribbons on the overrobe. ‘Now, mother of my heart, will you explain to me what this silly frippery has to do with our plans for young Bruli?’
Nacoya’s eyes widened with evil delight. ‘Ah, Mara-anni, you have much to learn of the ways of men!’ Taking her charge firmly by the hand, she towed her off to her private quarters. ‘This afternoon you must do your best to be the temptress, my Lady. I have selected appropriate raiment for you to wear after your bath.’
Crossing the threshold, Nacoya displayed a conspirator’s excitement. Servants could be heard pouring bath water behind the small folding partition, and several items of clothing had been neatly laid out upon the sleeping mat. Mara regarded her adviser’s chosen outfit with a sceptical eye. ‘Nacoya, several pieces seem to be missing.’
Nacoya smiled. She gathered up the skimpy lounging robe, commonly worn by ladies in the privacy of their own quarters. Nudity, per se, was not a social difficulty. Adults and children of both sexes bathed together and a small loincloth for swimming was optional. But like most things involved with courtship, provocation was a condition of the mind. Worn in the garden in the presence of a stranger, this slight gown would prove more alluring than if Mara had invited Bruli to swim naked with her.
Nacoya ran old fingers over the gauzy fabric, her manner suddenly serious. ‘For my small plan to work, Bruli must become motivated by more than the wish to please his father. If he comes to desire you, he will do things he otherwise would never consider. You must act as flirtatiously as you are able.’
Mara almost winced. ‘Shall I simper?’ She turned sideways, surrendering the lace fan to one of the servants who arrived to remove her travelling robes.
‘That might not hurt.’ Nacoya stepped over to a chest and fished out a small vial. Then she hummed softly over the splash of the bath water; the song was an ancient courting tune she remembered from her youth. Presently Mara emerged from behind the screen, swathed in soft towels. The old woman waved the servants aside and dabbed an exotic essence upon the girl’s shoulders and wrists, and between her breasts. Then she lifted the towels aside; regarding the nude form of her mistress, she resisted an impulse to cackle. ‘You’ve a fine, healthy body on you, Mara-anni. If you could practise a little more grace and elegance in your movement, you could have all the blood gone from his head in a minute.’
Not at all convinced, Mara turned towards the reflecting glass, a costly gift from a clan leader on her wedding day. Against its dark patina, a dimmer shadow returned her gaze. Childbirth had left a minimum of stretch marks, the result of constant ministration of special oils during her pregnancy. Her breasts were slightly larger than before Ayaki’s conception, but her stomach was as flat as ever. After giving birth to her son she had begun the practice of tan-che, the ancient formal dance that strengthened the body while keeping it limber. But Mara found little attractive in her slender form, particularly after having seen Teani’s charms.
‘I’m going to feel terribly silly,’ she confided to her image in the glass. Nevertheless, she allowed the servants to dress her in the skimpy robe, with several pieces of flashing jewellery and a ribbon upon her right ankle. Billowy sleeves concealed the dressing on her upper arm. Humming loudly now, Nacoya stepped behind her mistress and gathered her hair on top of her head. Binding it with ivory and jade pins, she fussed and allowed a few wisps to dangle artfully down around Mara’s face. ‘There; men like the slightly dishevelled look. It puts them in mind of what ladies look like in the morning.’
‘Bleary-eyed and puffy-faced?’ Mara almost laughed.
‘Bah!’ Nacoya shook her finger, deadly serious. ‘You have yet to learn what most women guess by instinct, Mara-anni. Beauty is as much attitude as face and form. If you enter the garden like an Empress, slowly, moving as if every man who sees you is your slave, Bruli would ignore a dozen pretty dancing girls to take you to his bed. As much as managing your estates, this skill is necessary for a Ruling Lady. Remember this: move slowly. When you sit, or sip your wine, be as elegant as you can, like a woman of the Reed Life when she struts on her balcony over the streets. Smile and listen to Bruli as if everything he says is stunningly brilliant, and should he jest, for the gods’ sake laugh, even if the joke is poor. And if your robes move and part a little, let him peek a bit before you cover up. I wish this son of the Kehotara to be snorting after you like a needra bull at breeding time.’
‘Your plan had better prove worthwhile,’ said Mara with distaste. She ran her fingers through jingling layers of necklaces. ‘I feel like a merchant’s manikin. But I will try to act like Bunto’s little whore, Teani, if you think advantage will come of it.’ Then her voice gained an edge. ‘Understand this, though, mother of my heart. I will not take this young calley bird to bed.’
Nacoya smiled at her reference to the finely plumed birds kept by many nobles for their beauty. ‘A calley bird he is, mistress, and my plan requires that he show us his finest plumage.’
Mara looked heavenward, then nodded. She started her usual brisk walk, but remembered to move out the door with her best imitation of a woman of the Reed Life. Attempting to be languid in her approach to the young suitor, Mara blushed with embarrassment. She thought her entrance was exaggerated to the point of silliness, but Bruli sat up straight upon his cushions. He smiled broadly and jumped to his feet, bowing deferentially to the Lady of the Acoma; all the while his eyes drank in her image.
Once Mara was installed upon her cushions, the young man might even have poured her wine himself, but the servant, who was actually Arakasi, accomplished the service before him. His manner showed no trace of distrust, but Mara knew he would never let his mistress accept any cup touched by a vassal of the Minwanabi. Aware, suddenly, that Bruli had ceased talking, Mara flashed him a brilliant smile. Then, almost shyly, she lowered her eyes and pretended intent interest. His conversation seemed trivial, concerning people and events of seemingly little consequence. But she listened to the gossip of the court and cities as if the subjects fascinated her, and she laughed at Bruli’s attempts at wit. Arakasi directed the house slaves, who came and went with trays of wine-soaked fruit. As Bruli’s breath smelled more and more strongly of spirits, his tongue loosened, and his laughter boomed across the garden. Once or twice he rested his fingers lightly on Mara’s wrist, and though she was not in the least bit intoxicated, his gentleness sent a thrill through her body. Idly she wondered whether Nacoya was right and there was more to love between man and woman that Buntokapi’s rough handling had shown.
But her inner barriers stayed raised. Though to Mara the act was laughable, so awkward did she feel in the role of seductress, the detached observer within her noted that Bruli seemed entranced. His gaze never left her. Once, as she waved Arakasi back to pour more wine, the front of her robe parted slightly. As Nacoya had advised, she hesitated before closing the gap. Bruli’s lashes widened, and his pretty eyes seemed nailed to the slight swell of bosom revealed. How odd, she thought, that a man so handsome should be moved by such a thing. He must have had many women; why