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.
Cho-ja products were valuable, and their requirements simple: grain and items fashioned of hide; for these reasons families would kill to gain a hive upon their estates. And among all the hives known in the Empire, the cho-ja sent forth a new queen less often than once in a human lifetime.
But Mara would need to
