had kept her own counsel in the shelter of the litter, but as Mara stood motionless, she said, ‘Mistress?’
Mara handed her empty cup to the slave. ‘I’m coming, Nacoya. We must be off. There is a great deal to be done in the month before the wedding.’ Without further words she climbed back into the litter. As her bearers reached down to resume their burden, she settled into the cushions beside Nacoya and her pensive silence returned. Keyoke gave the order to march, and her soldiers fell into ranks before, after, and on both sides of the palanquin, to outward appearances a single group once again.
Mara began to tremble, her eyes wide and distant. Without words Nacoya slipped her arm around the girl’s shoulders. The tremors continued as the Acoma retinue began its march, until Mara quivered so violently Nacoya had to gather the shaking girl in her arms. Silently the very young Lady of the Acoma turned her face into her nurse’s shoulder and smothered her sobs.
As they approached the borders of her estate, Mara considered the difficulties she faced. She had only spoken in passing to Keyoke and Nacoya since ordering the execution of the two soldiers. Mara knew that the conflict between the former grey warriors and the survivors of her father’s garrison should have been anticipated.
Blaming herself for failing to do so, Mara pulled aside her litter curtain and called for her Force Commander. As he arrived at her side she said, ‘Keyoke, why did Selmon order the older soldiers to stand first watch, rather than a mix of old and new?’
If he was surprised by his mistress’s question, he showed no sign. ‘Lady, Selmon erred by trying not to antagonize the older soldiers. He thought that by serving first duty they’d have an uninterrupted rest from meal to morning watch, and they’d appreciate it. Zataki was a young hothead, and had any of us been here’ – he motioned to himself, Papewaio, and Tasido, the three officers who had accompanied Mara into the Anasati estate house – ‘none of that would have occurred.’ He paused as he considered his next statement. ‘But Selmon did not do poorly. The conflict bordered upon open fighting between factions, yet he managed to restrain all but the two who were punished.’
Mara nodded. ‘When we are home, promote Selmon to Patrol Leader. Our forces have grown to the point where we need more officers.’
Then Mara made one of the swift, unhesitating decisions that were earning her the respect of those who served her. ‘Promote two of our best men in our old guard as well. Choose the very best of our family’s oldest soldiers, perhaps Miaka, and make him a Strike Leader. Bring one of the new men up as well. That rascal Lujan was a Strike Leader with the Kotai. If you can’t think of anyone more able, give the rank to him.’
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
