The Complete Empire Trilogy. Janny Wurts
Lujan stepped aside with a grace more suited to a dancer than a warrior. He assisted the newly awakened Nacoya from the palanquin. But his attention remained focused on his mistress.
Mara calculated. ‘That will swell our main garrison to over three hundred. Our position is no longer helpless, only desperate.’
‘We need more soldiers,’ Nacoya concluded tartly. She shuffled past to enter the great house, sleepiness making her more cross than usual.
Lujan tossed his helm lightly from his right hand to his left. ‘Mistress, getting more men will prove difficult. We have called in every grey warrior within reasonable distance of your borders. For more, we shall have to leave these lands and travel.’
‘But you know where to look for such,’ stated Mara, her eyes locked upon the hands that toyed still with the helmet.
Lujan returned a rakish smile. ‘Mistress, I suffer from a shortage of humility, I know, but I have lived in every bandits’ stand from here to Ambolina since the fall of the House of Kotai. I know where to look.’
‘How much time do you need?’
A wicked gleam lit his eye. ‘How many men do you wish to recruit, Lady?’
‘One thousand; two would be better.’
‘Aie, mistress, a thousand would take three, four months.’ The helmet stilled as Lujan grew thoughtful. ‘If I could take some trusted men with me, perhaps I could shorten that to six weeks. Two thousand …?’
Mara’s bracelets chimed as she gestured impatiently. ‘You will have three weeks. The recruits must be returned here, sworn to oath, and integrated into our force inside a month.’
Lujan’s smile turned to a grimace. ‘My Lady, for you I would face a horse of Thun raiders without weapons, but what you demand is a miracle.’
Evening shadow hid Mara’s flush, but she showed uncharacteristic animation as she signalled for Papewaio. The moment her Strike Leader completed his bow, she said, ‘Find some good men for Lujan.’ Then she regarded the former outlaw appraisingly. ‘Choose from both old and new soldiers. Perhaps some time on the trail together will convince them they have more in common than not.’ Then she added, ‘Any you think might become troublemakers.’
Lujan seemed unruffled by the proposition. ‘Troublemakers are nothing new to me, my Lady.’ His grin broadened. ‘Before I rose to become an officer, I dare say I was something of a troublemaker myself.’
‘I daresay you were,’ commented Keyoke. Motionless in the darkness, he had all but been forgotten. The former bandit leader started slightly and immediately became more restrained.
‘You must travel as fast and as far as possible for twelve days, Lujan,’ instructed Mara. ‘Gather as many reliable men as you can. Then return here. If you can’t find me two thousand, find me two hundred, and if you can’t find two hundred find me twenty, but make them good warriors.’ Lujan nodded, they bowed with a faultless propriety that earned a return smile from Mara. ‘Now show me the ones you’ve found for me tonight.’
Lujan escorted Mara and Keyoke to where the poorly dressed men were sitting. All stood as soon as the Lady of the Acoma approached, and several knelt. To those who had known the hardships of outlawry, she seemed an imperial princess in her jewels and fine clothes. The roughest among them listened respectfully as Mara repeated the offer she had made to Lujan and his followers upon the trail in the mountains; and like three other bands since then, almost sixty skilled workmen rose to accept quarters and assignments from Jican. Mara smiled to see the light in her hadonra’s eyes as he contemplated how he could turn their handiwork to a rich profit; and armourers would be needed if Lujan successfully recruited her hoped-for new warriors. The crowd thinned, and some of the confusion abated as the workers followed Jican.
Of the others who remained, Lujan said, ‘My Lady, these are thirty-three well-seasoned warriors who would swear before the Acoma natami.’
‘You’ve explained everything to them?’
‘I daresay as well as anyone could, except yourself, of course.’ As Keyoke snorted disapproval, Mara looked to see if the former outlaw chieftain was mocking; he wasn’t, at least not openly. Aware, suddenly, of the strange pull this man seemed to exert on her, she recognized in him the same sly wit she had loved in her brother, Lanokota. His teasing caused her to flush slightly. Quickly she wiped her forehead as if the heat were making her perspire. This man was not her kin, or even a Lord equal in rank to her; unsure how to respond after months of isolation in the temple, she turned firmly to the task at hand. All the men were fit if undernourished, and they seemed eager, except for two who sat slightly apart. One of those exchanged glances with Lujan.
‘You know this man?’ asked Mara.
Lujan laughed. ‘Indeed, mistress. This is Saric, my cousin, who served with the Lord of the Tuscai. Before he left the Kotai estates, he was my closest companion.’
Looking to nettle Lujan in return for her earlier embarrassment, Mara said, ‘Is he an able soldier?’
Lujan grinned and his cousin returned a nearly identical broad smile. ‘My Lady, he is as able a soldier as I.’
‘Well then, that solves a problem.’ Mara tapped the helm that still dangled from Lujan’s wrist, called a soldier’s pot, for its utter lack of adornment. ‘I was going to ask you to give that to him and assume one with an officer’s plume. Keyoke had orders to promote you to Strike Leader, but as you are going to be away for three weeks, he might as well promote your cousin in your stead.’
His grin still in place, Lujan said, ‘Well, almost as able as I, Lady.’ Slightly more serious, he added, ‘With your consent, I’ll take him with me. I mean no disrespect for any other soldier here, but there is no man I would rather have at my side with a sword.’ Then his tone turned light again. ‘Besides, we might as well keep the party composed exclusively of troublemakers.’
Mara couldn’t resist. For the first time since Lano’s death the frown eased entirely from her face, lantern light revealing a surprisingly lovely smile. ‘Then you had best collect your plume from Keyoke, Strike Leader.’ To the newcomer she said, ‘Welcome, Saric.’
The man bowed his head. ‘Mistress, your honour is my honour. With the god’s favour I shall die a warrior – not too soon, I hope – and in the service of beauty such as yours, a happy one.’
With a lift of her brows, Mara glanced at both men. ‘It seems flattery runs in your family, as well as a certain casual attitude towards rank.’ Then she indicated the other man who had been sitting with Saric. He wore plain clothes and simple hide sandals. His hair was trimmed in nondescript fashion, not the close cut of a warrior, the fashionable ringlets of a merchant, or the ragged shag of a worker. ‘Who is this?’
The man arose while Saric said, ‘This is Arakasi, Lady. He also was in my Lord’s employ, though he was not a soldier.’
The man was of medium build and regular features. But his manner had neither the proud bearing of a warrior nor the deference of a worker. Suddenly uncertain, Mara said, ‘Then why did you not stand forward with the craftsmen and workers?’
Arakasi’s dark eyes flickered slightly, perhaps in amusement, but his face remained expressionless. Then he changed. Though he hardly moved, his demeanour changed; suddenly he seemed the aloof, self-possessed scholar. With that, Mara noticed what she should have seen at once: his skin was in no way weathered as a field worker’s would have been. His hands had some toughness, but no thick pads of callus left by toil with tools or weapons. ‘Lady, I am not a farmer.’
Something put Keyoke on his guard, for he moved without thought to interpose himself between his mistress and the stranger. ‘If you are not a farmer or soldier, what are you, a merchant, sailor, a tradesman, a priest?’
Barely acknowledging Keyoke’s intervention, Arakasi said, ‘Lady, in my time I have been all of those. Once I guested with your father in the guise of a priest of Hantukama.