Daughter of the Empire (15 page)

Keyoke shrugged, offering no better candidate among the newcomers. Mara conceded her satisfaction at this, then added, ‘I’ll have these cadres and alliances quickly broken; there will be no favourites.’ Keyoke nodded slightly, his leathery face showing the barest suggestion of a smile, as close as he ever came to openly expressing approval. Almost to herself, Mara added, ‘Soon I’ll need men at my side who will obey without hesitation. I cannot afford anything that interferes with my plans.’

Clearly she was occupied with the responsibilities of rulership. Keyoke hurried his pace back to the head of the column, considering how much like her father the girl was becoming.

As Mara’s litter moved through the Acoma needra meadows, she felt optimistic for the first time since leaving Lashima’s temple. Her thoughts churned. She would discuss her ideas with no one, not even Nacoya or Keyoke. For those notions were turning into plots, the beginnings of a master plan that led beyond simple survival into an ambition that turned her mind giddy.

Over time, Mara expected that her planning would have to be amended to deal with change: unanticipated shifts of power and alliances within the Game of the Council. In many ways, resolve came before means and method; she had years of learning before what she inwardly called her grand scheme could reach fruition. But marriage to Buntokapi was the first small step. Since leaving the Anasati lands, she had discovered hope, and the powerful allure of new dreams.

By the time the palanquin swayed up the walk towards the great house, practical matters eclipsed her dreaming. Lights blazed in the gloom of twilight, more than ordinary events might warrant. In their glow, Mara saw perhaps eighty men gathered outside the kitchen, many eating from bowls. Lujan walked among them, speaking and making expansive gestures with his hands. As her duty retinue approached, a few of the strangers set their meal aside and stood. The rest continued eating, though all looked nervous.

Mara glanced to see Nacoya, but the old woman was asleep, lulled by the heat and the rocking of the litter through the afternoon. As the palanquin settled to the ground, Lujan hurried over, bowing politely as Keyoke assisted Mara out. Before she could ask, the former bandit chieftain said, ‘Mistress, these are all worthy men, at least worthy as I am likely to measure such things. All would gladly enter your service.’

‘Soldiers?’ Instantly interested, Keyoke released his hold upon Mara’s hand.

Lujan doffed his helmet, the reflection of the lanterns like sparks in his deepset eyes. ‘Only a few, unfortunately, Force Commander. But the others are armourers, fowlers, cordwainers, wheelwrights, and other skilled craftsmen, as well as two farmers.’

Mara said, ‘Good, I’m running low on land to assign to new farmers. Now, how many soldiers?’

‘Thirty-three.’ 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. I have taken the identities of a soldier, a merchant, a slave master, a whoremonger, a riverman, even a sailor and a beggar.’

Which explained some things, thought Mara, but not all. ‘To whom were you loyal?’

Arakasi bowed startlingly, with the grace and practised ease of a noble born. ‘I was servant to the Lord of the Tuscai, before the Minwanabi dogs killed him in battle. I was his Spy Master.’

Mara’s eyes widened despite her attempt at self-control. ‘His Spy Master?’

The man straightened, his smile devoid of humour. ‘Yes, mistress. For one reason above all should you wish me in your service: my late Lord of the Tuscai spent the
best part of his fortune building a network of informants, a network I oversaw, with agents in every city in the Empire and spies within many great houses.’ His voice dropped, a strange mix of reluctance and pride. ‘That network is still in place.’

Suddenly, sharply, Keyoke scratched his chin with his thumb.

Mara cleared her throat, with a keen look at Arakasi, whose aspect seemed to shift from moment to moment. ‘Such things are best not discussed in the open.’ She glanced about. ‘I still have the dust of travel upon me, and have had no pause for refreshment since midday. Attend me in my chambers in an hour’s time. Until then Papewaio will see to your needs.’

Arakasi bowed and joined Papewaio, who gestured for the Spy Master to follow him to the bathhouse near the barracks.

Left with Keyoke and the presence of thirty-three masterless warriors, Mara remained caught up in thought. After a silent interval she mused softly, ‘The Spy Master of the Tuscai.’ To Keyoke she said, ‘Father always said the Lord of the Tuscai knew more than was righteous in the eyes of the gods. Men joked that he had a magician with a crystal locked away in a vault under his study. Do you suppose this Arakasi was the reason?’

Keyoke offered no direct opinion but said, ‘Be cautious of him, mistress. A man who spies uses honesty least of all. You were right to send him away with Pape.’

‘Loyal Keyoke,’ said Mara with affection in her voice. She tilted her head in the torchlight, indicated the ragged group of men who awaited her command. ‘Do you suppose you can swear this lot to service by the natami, and still have time for a bath and dinner?’

‘I must.’ The Force Commander returned a rare, wry shrug. ‘Though how I’ve lived to be this old while
burdened with so much work, only the gods know.’ Before Mara could respond, he shouted a command, and like the trained soldiers they were, the scruffy men crowding the courtyard mustered at the voice of authority.

Evening gave way to night.

Soft lights burned in Mara’s chamber. The outer screens had been opened to admit the breeze and the lamplight flickered and danced. The Lady of the Acoma sent away her servants, ordering one to have chocha brought. Alone with Nacoya a moment before the others appeared, Mara stripped off the ostentatious bracelets given her by the Anasati lord. She peeled off her dirty travelling robe and dabbed a damp cloth over her body; a full bath would have to wait until after her meeting with Arakasi.

Nacoya remained silent while Mara refreshed herself, but her eyes never left her young mistress. Neither of them spoke. The reproach Mara saw in those old eyes told all: the girl was inexperienced and foolish, perhaps even dangerously so, in matching herself with Buntokapi. He might appear slow-witted, but he was a powerful warrior, and though barely two years older than she, he had been reared in the Game of the Council while Mara had sheltered in the temple of Lashima.

As Mara wrapped a delicate saffron-coloured robe about herself, the servant returned with the chocha. She motioned permission, and the slave placed his large tray in the centre of the low table, then departed. Mara nodded to Nacoya, indicating that the old woman should prepare cups and napkins.

Her two officers and the stranger arrived punctually upon the hour. Mara studied the newcomer keenly as he bowed and seated himself between Keyoke and Papewaio. Arakasi’s style was impeccably correct, his manner
a match for the clothing he now wore in place of his beggar’s rags. Mara suddenly realized she had seen his tasselled scarlet shirt before; the garment was Papewaio’s, his favourite, worn on feast days only. Mara considered the significance of his loan to Arakasi. In the hour that had passed since their meeting in the courtyard, the former Spy Master of the Tuscai must have impressed the Acoma First Strike Leader very favourably. That was a strong recommendation, for, like her father before her, Mara placed strong trust in Papewaio’s instincts about people.

Bolstered by that confidence, she asked, ‘Has Lujan spoken of what we do here?’

Arakasi nodded. ‘He’s off to find more grey warriors to take service.’ He paused, then added, ‘But each time you recruit, you greatly increase the chance spies might infiltrate. Soon you cannot trust any who come here.’

‘You might be such an agent,’ interrupted Nacoya.

‘Old mother, I have nothing to gain by lying.’ Arakasi took charge of the chocha pot, usurping Nacoya’s role as server with flawless ease. Deferentially he filled Mara’s cup, then Nacoya’s, Keyoke’s, and Papewaio’s before his own. ‘Were I a spy for another house, I would simply have enlisted and sent word of your desperate situation back to my master. Then the assassins would come, probably in the next band of recruits. Your suspicions then would become entirely academic, as you would be murdered along with your mistress.’ He put down the pot. ‘And if I didn’t see an opportunity here for myself and my agents, I would have played a farmer, slipped away in the dark, and never troubled any of you again.’

Mara nodded. ‘Your logic is difficult to fault. Now tell us what we need to know of you.’

The stranger answered frankly. ‘I have been employed for over twenty years, to establish and oversee a network
of spies spanning the Empire. It now rivals any in the land, including the Warlord’s. I even have agents working for other Spy Masters, one who is dormant, never having been employed, harboured against a day of great need –’

At this, Keyoke leaned forward. ‘The obliteration of your house was not a great enough need?’

Arakasi took Keyoke’s rudeness in stride. ‘No agent of mine could have aided my master, or prevented his final fate. Especially not the one I mentioned. He works with the Imperial Chancellery, on the staff of the Warlord.’

Even Keyoke couldn’t hide his astonishment. The Spy Master continued. ‘My master was a man of vision but limited wealth. So extensive was his commitment to gathering intelligence, he was unable to use it to good effect. Perhaps if I had not been ambitious in my requirements …’ Arakasi set down his chocha cup with barely a click. ‘Had the Minwanabi not grown fearful of my Lord’s ability to anticipate their every move, today the Tuscai might have been among the most powerful families in the Empire.’ He sighed in regret. ‘But “might have been is but ashes upon the wind”, as they say. The attack was simple and straightforward. My lord’s warriors were overwhelmed by brute strength. I have since learned that my agents do little good if their information cannot be acted upon.’

Keyoke had barely touched his cup of chocha. His eyes glinted through rising steam as he said, ‘So where are your agents today?’

Without hesitation, Arakasi faced Mara. ‘Lady, I will not reveal who they are. If I offend, I ask pardon. I still owe much to those who once served my master, and will not expose them to additional danger. If you take us into service, we shall require the same concessions that were made by my Lord of the Tuscai.’

Mara acknowledged Keyoke’s warning glance with a
half nod. ‘Those being?’ she prompted, and waited keenly for Arakasi’s reply.

‘I will oversee my couriers and contacts, and I alone will know the names of the agents, and how to reach them; you will be told only where they serve.’

Keyoke set his chocha cup down forcefully, as near as he had ever come to displaying anger. ‘These are unreasonable requirements!’

‘Force Commander,’ said Arakasi, ‘I do not wish to be difficult. I may not have served my master as well as I wished, but I protect those who worked so diligently on his behalf – in ways as dangerous to them as battle to a soldier. A spy dies in shame by the rope. My people risk both life and honour for a master they will not betray. I ensure that no matter what may happen, their master cannot betray them.’

Confronted by uncertain expressions, he nodded and qualified his statement. ‘When the Minwanabi crushed the Tuscai, they interrogated my master …’ Shifting dark eyes to Mara, he softened his voice. ‘There is no reason to relate details. I know of these things only because one of my people was left for dead and managed to observe for a while before escaping. Jingu’s torturer was efficient. My master could not have withheld any information, despite being a courageous man. Lady, judge fairly: if you wish my services, and the services of those who worked for me, then you will have to take us on faith.’

‘And if I don’t?’

Arakasi stilled, his hands in plain view to banish any impression of threat. Slowly he turned his palms upward, a sign of resignation. ‘Then I shall return to the hills.’

Mara cocked her head slightly. Here, at last, the man showed a moment of genuine feeling. To wear house colours again was more important to him than he cared to
admit. Concerned lest she cause him embarrassment, Mara asked simply, ‘Then what?’

Arakasi shrugged. ‘My lady, I have worked in many guises to protect my identity. I can fix a wagon, play the flute, scribe, and do sums. I am also a talented beggar, if the truth be known. I will manage, have no doubt.’

Keyoke fixed him with a penetrating look. ‘I think you could gain a position and live comfortably at will. So then what were you doing in the woods with outlaws?’

Arakasi shrugged, as if distrust of his motives was of no consequence. ‘I keep in touch with Saric and others of the Tuscai. I often traded in the cities on their behalf, using my wits and talents. And through them I met Lujan and his band. I had just reached Saric’s camp when Lujan’s call came. I thought I’d come along and see what this odd business was.’ With his head inclined towards Mara, he added, ‘I must say I admire the way you bend tradition to suit your needs, Lady.’

Mara answered, ‘Only as needed, Arakasi, and never broken.’ She looked at the man for a moment. ‘Still, you’ve not said why you haven’t abandoned your network. I would think it safer if you all simply faded into the roles you portrayed when your master died and lived out your lives.’

Arakasi smiled. ‘Safer, undoubtedly; even the infrequent contacts I’ve maintained over the last four years put some of my people at risk. But for our honour, we keep the network alive.’ He paused, then said, ‘Our reasons are part of my requirements to take service with you. And you shall hear them only if you choose to reach an agreement.’

About to speak, Keyoke then gave a simple shake of his head; no one should presume to bargain with the Ruler of the Acoma in this fashion. Mara glanced at Nacoya, who was thoughtfuly following the conversation,
then at Papewaio, who nodded once, lending Arakasi his silent endorsement.

Mara took a breath. ‘I think I see the wisdom in your requirements, Spy Master. But what would become of your network should mishap befall you?’

‘My agents have means of routinely checking upon one another. Should a needra pause to sit upon the spot where I nap, thus ending my career, another agent would make himself known to you within one month’s time.’ Arakasi sobered. ‘He would give you proof that could not be counterfeited, and you could trust him as you would me.’

Mara nodded. ‘Trust, though, that is the difficulty. Either of us would be a fool to relinquish caution too quickly.’

‘Of course.’

A slight breeze caused the flames to gutter in the lamps, and for an instant the chamber swam with shadows. Nacoya made an unthinking gesture against disaster and the gods’ displeasure. But Mara was too absorbed to worry over superstition. ‘If I agree to your terms, will you take service?’

Arakasi bowed slightly from the waist, a gesture he accomplished with grace. ‘I wish to serve a house as much as any soldier, mistress, but there is one thing more. We keep the network intact for reasons of honour. After the House of Tuscai fell, I and those who worked with me made a vow. We will not take service if we must break that vow.’

‘What is the vow?’

Arakasi looked directly at Mara, and his eyes reflected fanatic passion, unmasked by any attempt at guile. In even tones he said, ‘Vengeance upon the Lord of the Minwanabi.’

‘I see.’ Mara settled back against her cushions, hoping
the passion in her own heart was not so easily read. ‘We share an enemy, it seems.’

Arakasi nodded. ‘For now. I know the Acoma and the Minwanabi are in contention, but the tides of politics often change –’

Mara held up her hand, silencing him. ‘The Acoma have a blood feud with the Minwanabi.’

Arakasi stilled and regarded the worn heel of the sandal tucked under his knee. So profound was his silence that all in the chamber felt chilled. Here was a man of seemingly limitless patience, like the tree-lord serpent, who would blend with a branch, unseen, tirelessly waiting for prey to pass by, then strike with unexpected fury. When at last Arakasi stirred, Mara observed the strain of this interview had begun to wear at his control. Despite his talents and training, the Spy Master had the same conflicting emotions as those ragged soldiers and servants who had come to her: he might gain a second beginning, only to become masterless once again. Yet his voice reflected no turmoil as he said, ‘If you will have us, I and mine will swear loyalty to the Acoma.’

Mara nodded.

Arakasi’s face suddenly became animated. ‘Then, my mistress, let us begin, for an advantage may be gained if you act quickly. Before coming to the hills, I spent time in the north, with a friend in the House of Inrodaka. It is common gossip among the workers there that to the west, near the woodland borders of their Lord’s estates, a cho-ja hive has spawned a new queen.’

‘No word has been sent?’ asked Mara, instantly interested.

Arakasi gestured in the negative. ‘The Lord of the Inrodaka is a quiet man with few guests and even fewer sojourns abroad. But time is short. The fruit harvesters soon will carry word to the river. The news will then race
the breadth of the Empire, but for now you are the only Ruling Lady or Lord to know that a new queen of the cho-ja will soon be seeking a home. She will have at least three hundred warriors to serve her,’ and with a glint of humour he added, ‘and if you win her loyalty, you can be certain none of them will be spies.’

Mara stood. ‘If this is true, we must leave before morning.’ Gaining a cho-ja hive for her estates would be a gift from the gods. Alien the cho-ja might be, but they made fierce and loyal allies. The new queen might begin her nest with three hundred soldiers, each easily the match for two Tsurani, but over the years the number might grow to several thousand; and as Arakasi pointed out, none of them could be agents for enemy houses. To Keyoke, Mara said, ‘Have trailbreakers ready within the hour. We will start the journey to this hive at dawn.’ As the Force Commander departed, she returned her attention to Arakasi. ‘You will accompany us. Papewaio will arrange for servants and see that your needs are met.’

Mara signalled an end to the meeting. As her advisers rose to depart, Nacoya touched Arakasi’s sleeve. ‘The girl knows nothing of the cho-ja. How will she negotiate?’

Effortlessly courteous, Arakasi took the old woman’s hand and ushered her to the doorway as if she were some treasured great-aunt. ‘The sending of a new queen occurs so rarely, no one can be prepared to negotiate. The Lady of the Acoma must simply accommodate to whatever the new queen requests.’

As the pair disappeared into the corridor, Mara could barely contain her excitement. All thoughts of her forthcoming wedding were eclipsed by this news; to have a hive upon one’s estate was more than an honour and a source of military power. For beyond being superior warriors, cho-ja were miners, able to find precious metals and gems buried deep within the earth, from which their
artisans wrought jewellery of surpassing delicacy. The insectoid aliens also held the secret of making silk, the cool, soft fabric most prized by those who lived in the ever-present heat of the Empire. Wars had been fought to control the silk trade, until imperial edict allowed for neither guild nor noble to monopolize it. Now any lord who could gain silk could trade it.