‘The Xacatecas were among those enemies,’ Mara prompted.
Arakasi returned a nod. ‘They bear the Minwanabi no affection, and my agent in Lord Chipino’s household indicates that the Xacatecas’ First Adviser raised the possibility of alliance with the Acoma. Others in his council are still opposed; they say you have shown the best you have, and wait for you to fall. But Chipino of the Xacatecas listens without making final judgment.’
Mara raised her eyebrows, surprised. The Xacatecas were one of the Five Families. Her victory over Jingu had indeed raised regard for her name, if Chipino’s advisers would debate a possible alliance that would be a virtual declaration of war on the Minwanabi. Even the Shinzawai had skirted the question of open ties, content for the moment to keep a friendly but neutral position.
‘But the Xacatecas can wait,’ said Arakasi. ‘Desio will not formulate policy on his own, but come to depend on advisers and relations. Power and leadership will be spread over several men, making a clear-cut picture very difficult for my agents to gather. This will make our predictions unreliable where broad policy is concerned, and certainty impossible when it comes to assessing the Minwanabi’s immediate plans.’
Mara watched an insect advance across the fruit dish, sampling each variety. So would Desio surround himself with ambitious and power-hungry individuals, and though their desires might differ, all could be depended upon to wish the Acoma downfall. Perhaps ominously, the insect settled on one slice of jomach, where several of its fellows joined it. ‘We are fortunate that Tasaio is away in the wars upon Midkemia,’ the Lady mused.
Arakasi leaned forward. ‘Fortunate no longer, mistress. The man who arranged the murder of your father and brother is returning through the rift at this very day. Desio has called a great gathering of relations and supporters for the week following next. He will take oaths of fealty, and more. He has paid in metal for the erection of a prayer gate to the Red God.’
Now Mara went very still. ‘Tasaio is dangerous.’
‘Ambitious as well,’ added Arakasi. ‘Desio might be ruled by his passions, but his cousin’s only interests are war and power. With Desio firmly upon the Minwanabi throne, Tasaio will advance his own cause for command over Imperial troops and will serve Desio faithfully – albeit with an occasional silent wish for Desio to choke on a jigabird bone, I wager. Tasaio may try a military solution to his uncle’s fall from power. A smashing victory over House Acoma, with some damage to other great houses as well, and Desio will stand next to the Warlord in power in the council.’
Mara considered this. Jingu’s death had caused the Minwanabi to lose honour, allies, and political strength, but their garrisons and capability for warcraft were still undiminished. Acoma forces were well on their way to recovery since the destruction that had accompanied the fall of her father and brother. But too much relied on the cho-ja guards. At present, the insectoids would act only on Acoma lands, a deadly and reliable defensive army, but useless for offensive strategy. In war or conflict beyond the estate borders, the Acoma could not match the military might presently commanded by Desio.
‘We must know what they plan,’ she said tensely. ‘Can your agents penetrate this Minwanabi gathering and report what Desio’s advisers whisper in his ear?’
Arakasi returned a bitter smile. ‘Lady, do not overestimate any spy’s abilities. Remember that the man who reports was very close to Jingu. That servant still commands the same post, but as the son begins to exercise his powers, we have no guarantee he will remain there. Of course, I have begun to groom a replacement should things go amiss, but remember that the agent we place must be tailored to Desio’s tastes. He will not be able to rise in the young Lord’s confidence for a few years at best.’
Mara anticipated Arakasi’s next thought. ‘And Tasaio is the greater danger.’
The Spy Master returned a slight bow. ‘Lady, be sure that I will do all that is possible to compile an accurate report of what transpires at Desio’s gathering. Should the young Lord remain as stupid as I think he is, Tasaio will be but one voice among many. If he shows an unexpected flash of intelligence and assigns the campaign against us to Tasaio, we are doubly endangered.’ He set aside a barely nibbled piece of bread. ‘Worrying about what may occur has limited benefit. Have your factors and servants listen in the markets for gossip and news. Knowledge is power, remember that always. On this will the Acoma come to triumph.’
Smoothly Arakasi arose, and Mara waved him permission to withdraw. As he slipped unobtrusively from her presence, she noticed with a chill that this was the first time she had ever known him to leave food when he was hungry. The room seemed suddenly too silent, oppressive with her own doubt. The image of Tasaio returning reawakened the desperate sense of helplessness she had known when she had learned of the deaths of her family. Unwilling to dwell upon the blackness of the past, Mara clapped for her servants.
‘Bring me my son,’ she commanded. Though she knew Ayaki would be soundly asleep, she had a sudden yearning for his noise, his mischief, and the warm weight of his small, muscular body in her arms.
The child turned over.
Ayaki sprawled upon the cushions, asleep. Boisterous for a short time, he had finally succumbed to exhaustion. Mara stroked his black hair away from his forehead, filled with love for her son.
Although the boy had his father’s stocky build, he had inherited quickness from her family. In his second year, he showed remarkable coordination, a fast tongue that drove the servants to distraction, and continually bruised knees. His smile had won the hearts of even the most hardened warriors who served on the Acoma estates.
‘You will be a fine fighter, and a greater player of the game,’ Mara mused softly. But now the boy’s toughness and quick wit had one opponent he could not overcome, his need for an afternoon nap. Though he was the light of Mara’s life, these brief interludes were welcome, for when awake Ayaki required three nurses to keep him occupied.
Mara tucked her son’s robe about him and straightened his outflung limbs. She settled back upon her cushions in thought. Many recently planted seeds must bear fruit before Ayaki came of age. When that day dawned, her father’s old enemies the Anasati would end the alliance begun for the sake of the boy. What goodwill Mara had secured through giving birth to the first grandson of Lord Tecuma of the Anasati would end, and the debt incurred by Buntokapi’s premature death would be exacted. Then must the Acoma be unassailably strong, to weather the change in rule as Mara turned over control of her house to an inexperienced son. The Minwanabi menace must be fully eliminated before another powerful enemy challenged a young Lord.
Mara considered the years ahead, while afternoon sunlight striped the drapes and slaves returned to trim the akasi. The gardening around the walkways occurred often enough that she had become indifferent to the clack of shears. Except for today, when that normal household sound was repeatedly interrupted by sharp commands from the overseer and the frequent slap of the short leather quirt he carried. Normally the lash was ceremonial, a symbolic badge of rank carried on the belt – Tsurani slaves seldom required beating. But the slaves from Midkemia were indifferent to their overseer’s displeasure. Their respect for their betters was nonexistent, and whippings shamed them not at all.
Tsurani slaves found the Midkemians as enigmatic as Mara did. Raised in the knowledge that their humble devotion to work was their only hope of earning a higher place upon the Wheel that bound the departed to rebirth and life, they worked tirelessly. To be beaten for laziness, or to disobey their lawful masters in any way, was to earn the permanent disfavour of the gods, for below slave was only animal. And once returned from the Wheel of Life in a lower form, they would find salvation from the countless rebirths in pain and deprivation impossible.
Disturbed from contemplation by a heated argument, Mara realized with annoyance that the barbarians still had not learned proper manners. The only change in them since the slave auction