Tecuma subsided, like an irritable killwing slowly allowing ruffled feathers to return to quiescence. At that moment the fourth gong rang at last. Servants stationed inside the hall slowly opened the doors to the court, while Chumaka intoned the ancient ritual of greeting a suitor. ‘We welcome one to our house, like light and wind, warmth and rain, a bringer of life into our hall.’ The words were an ancient formality, reflecting nothing of the true Anasati feeling toward the Acoma. In the Game of the Council the forms must always be observed. A light breeze stirred the hangings. The Lord of the Anasati almost audibly sighed in relief. Chumaka spoke louder, so his master’s slight lapse of manners would be masked. ‘Enter, suitor, and tell us your desire. We offer drink and food, warmth and comfort.’ Chumaka smiled inwardly at the last. No one needed or desired additional warmth this day, and Mara would certainly find little comfort before the Anasati Lord. He turned his attention to those entering the hall.
Timed to the beat of a single drum, grey-robed bearers entered through the door furthest from the Lord’s dais. The flat, open litter they carried was piled high with cushions; upon these Mara sat motionless. The musicians struck up the entrance song of the suitor. While the irritatingly simple melody repeated itself, the Anasati court studied this slight girl carried at the head of an impressively garbed retinue, a girl who wore the mantle of one of the proudest names in the Empire. Like the Lord who was her host, she was dressed in a fashion dictated by tradition, dark hair bound up high and held with shell- and gem-decorated pins, her face seemingly perched on a stiff, beaded collar. Her formal gown beneath was starched into pleats, with large bows of Acoma green, and floor-length sleeves. Yet for all her makeup and heavy, embroidered clothing, the girl looked unruffled by the pomp or the heat.
On Mara’s left, but one pace behind, walked Nacoya, now wearing the mantle of Acoma First Adviser. On Mara’s right marched three officers, armour gleaming brightly from new lacquer and fresh polish. Their helms were bedecked with magnificent new plumes. With them came a command of fifty warriors. Equally splendid in newly polished armour, they marched on either side of Mara’s litter.
The soldiers paused in a neat array at the foot of the dais, a splash of green amid the scarlet and yellow of the Anasati. One officer remained with the soldiers while the other two accompanied Mara’s litter up three steps to the dais. There the slaves set their burden down, and two rulers confronted each other, one a cord-thin, irritated man and the other a slight girl who bargained for her very survival.
Chumaka continued his formal greetings. ‘The Anasati bid welcome to our most exalted guest, the Lady of the Acoma.’
Nacoya replied as tradition dictated. ‘The Acoma give thanks to our most excellent host, the Lord of the Anasati.’ Despite her age, the old woman bore up well under the weight of the formal costume and the heat. Her voice was clear, as if she had been born to the role of First Adviser rather than nurse.
Now the formal greetings were exchanged, Tecuma pressed on to the point of the meeting. ‘We have your petition before us, Lady of the Acoma.’ A hush fell over the waiting courtiers, for Tecuma’s words offered a slight insult; to name the marriage proposal a petition implied that Mara’s social rank was inferior, and she within his power to reward or punish.
But the girl upon the ceremonial litter answered without a moment’s hesitation. She chose a tone and phrase commonly employed when filling an order with a merchant. ‘I am pleased you have no difficulty in meeting our requirements, Lord Tecuma.’
The Lord of the Anasati straightened slightly. This girl had wits and was unfazed by her welcome. Still, the day was long and hot, and the sooner this ridiculous matter was put behind, the sooner he could take to a cool pool, perhaps with some music while he bathed. Yet even with an avowed enemy the amenities must be observed. He motioned impatiently with his wand of office.
Chumaka responded with an unctuous smile and a barely perceptible bow. ‘What, then, does the Lady of the Acoma propose?’ Had Mara’s father lived, Sezu would have conducted negotiations for his son’s or daughter’s hand. But as Ruling Lady, she must contract all marriages within her house, even her own, from employing the marriage brokers who initiated the contact, to the formal meeting with the Lord of the Anasati.
Nacoya bowed, so shallow a movement that the returned insult was apparent. ‘The Lady of the Acoma seeks –’
‘A husband,’ interrupted Mara.
A stir rippled across the room, quickly stilled to a state of keen attention. All had expected to hear this presumptuous Acoma ruler request a consort, one who by law would not share in her rule.
‘A husband?’ Chumaka raised his brows, openly curious at this turn of events. Evidently this proposal surprised the Acoma First Adviser as well, for the old woman shot a glance of astonishment at the girl for an instant before regaining her formal composure. Chumaka could almost see where this unexpected turn might lead, but not quite, causing him the discomfort of an unreachable itch.
Mara responded in her own behalf, her voice sounding small in the spacious hall of the Anasati. ‘I am too young for this weighty responsibility, my Lord. I was to have been a sister of Lashima scant moments before this terrible honour was thrust upon me. My ignorance must not become a danger to the Acoma. With full knowledge of what I do, I seek a son of the Anasati to return with me. When we are wed, he shall be Ruling Lord of the Acoma.’
The Lord of the Anasati was caught speechless. Of all possible requests, this one had not been anticipated. For in one breath this girl not only had removed herself from power, but had also effectively given over control of her family to the Anasati, who numbered among her father’s oldest political enemies. So unexpected was this request, a chorus of whispers broke out among those assembled in the hall. Quickly recovering his poise, the Lord of the Anasati silenced his courtiers with a sharp glance and the barest wave of his ceremonial wand.
He stared hard at the face of this girl who had come to seek the hand of one of his sons, then said bluntly, ‘You seek to cast your honour to my house, Lady. May I know why?’
The Anasati courtiers waited motionless for the reply. The only movement in the room was a sudden, sparkling reflection as sunlight through the doorway caught on gem-decorated costumes. Ignoring the dazzle, Mara lowered her eyes as if ashamed. ‘My position is weak, Lord Tecuma. The Acoma lands are still strong and rich, but I am only a girl, with few resources. If my house is to become a lesser power, then at least I may choose allies. My father’s greatest enemy was the Lord of the Minwanabi. This is no secret. That he and you are presently at peace is only a matter of the moment. Sooner or later you must clash.’ Her small hands clenched in her lap, and her voice rose with resolve. ‘I would ally with anyone who might one day crush the man responsible for my father’s death!’
The First Adviser to the Lord of the Anasati turned so none in the hall could see his face – it was a given that at least one of the Acoma guards would prove to be a spy who could read lips. He whispered into the ear of the Lord Tecuma, ‘I don’t believe a word of this, my Lord.’
Lord Tecuma inclined his head and answered through clenched teeth. ‘I don’t either. Yet if this girl takes Jiro as Lord of the Acoma, I gain a great house as a lifetime ally, my son rises to a rank above any I could hope for, and she’s right: sooner or later we shall have to have a final accounting with Jingu of the Minwanabi. And if we destroy the Minwanabi, a son of mine will be Lord of one of the Five Great Families.’
Chumaka shook his head in the barest motion of resignation. His Lord would be thinking that someday descendants of his in two houses might contend for the office of the Warlord. Tecuma continued his reasoning. ‘Besides, she will be but the wife of the Ruling Lord. Her husband will dictate Acoma policy. No, Chumaka, whatever Mara may plot, this is too good an opportunity to pass by. I do not think this girl clever enough to outwit us once Jiro rules the Acoma.’
Tecuma glanced