Nacoya smiled. She gathered up the skimpy lounging robe, commonly worn by ladies in the privacy of their own quarters. Nudity, per se, was not a social difficulty. Adults and children of both sexes bathed together and a small loincloth for swimming was optional. But like most things involved with courtship, provocation was a condition of the mind. Worn in the garden in the presence of a stranger, this slight gown would prove more alluring than if Mara had invited Bruli to swim naked with her.
Nacoya ran old fingers over the gauzy fabric, her manner suddenly serious. ‘For my small plan to work, Bruli must become motivated by more than the wish to please his father. If he comes to desire you, he will do things he otherwise would never consider. You must act as flirtatiously as you are able.’
Mara almost winced. ‘Shall I simper?’ She turned sideways, surrendering the lace fan to one of the servants who arrived to remove her travelling robes.
‘That might not hurt.’ Nacoya stepped over to a chest and fished out a small vial. Then she hummed softly over the splash of the bath water; the song was an ancient courting tune she remembered from her youth. Presently Mara emerged from behind the screen, swathed in soft towels. The old woman waved the servants aside and dabbed an exotic essence upon the girl’s shoulders and wrists, and between her breasts. Then she lifted the towels aside; regarding the nude form of her mistress, she resisted an impulse to cackle. ‘You’ve a fine, healthy body on you, Mara-anni. If you could practise a little more grace and elegance in your movement, you could have all the blood gone from his head in a minute.’
Not at all convinced, Mara turned towards the reflecting glass, a costly gift from a clan leader on her wedding day. Against its dark patina, a dimmer shadow returned her gaze. Childbirth had left a minimum of stretch marks, the result of constant ministration of special oils during her pregnancy. Her breasts were slightly larger than before Ayaki’s conception, but her stomach was as flat as ever. After giving birth to her son she had begun the practice of tan-che, the ancient formal dance that strengthened the body while keeping it limber. But Mara found little attractive in her slender form, particularly after having seen Teani’s charms.
‘I’m going to feel terribly silly,’ she confided to her image in the glass. Nevertheless, she allowed the servants to dress her in the skimpy robe, with several pieces of flashing jewellery and a ribbon upon her right ankle. Billowy sleeves concealed the dressing on her upper arm. Humming loudly now, Nacoya stepped behind her mistress and gathered her hair on top of her head. Binding it with ivory and jade pins, she fussed and allowed a few wisps to dangle artfully down around Mara’s face. ‘There; men like the slightly dishevelled look. It puts them in mind of what ladies look like in the morning.’
‘Bleary-eyed and puffy-faced?’ Mara almost laughed.
‘Bah!’ Nacoya shook her finger, deadly serious. ‘You have yet to learn what most women guess by instinct, Mara-anni. Beauty is as much attitude as face and form. If you enter the garden like an Empress, slowly, moving as if every man who sees you is your slave, Bruli would ignore a dozen pretty dancing girls to take you to his bed. As much as managing your estates, this skill is necessary for a Ruling Lady. Remember this: move slowly. When you sit, or sip your wine, be as elegant as you can, like a woman of the Reed Life when she struts on her balcony over the streets. Smile and listen to Bruli as if everything he says is stunningly brilliant, and should he jest, for the gods’ sake laugh, even if the joke is poor. And if your robes move and part a little, let him peek a bit before you cover up. I wish this son of the Kehotara to be snorting after you like a needra bull at breeding time.’
‘Your plan had better prove worthwhile,’ said Mara with distaste. She ran her fingers through jingling layers of necklaces. ‘I feel like a merchant’s manikin. But I will try to act like Bunto’s little whore, Teani, if you think advantage will come of it.’ Then her voice gained an edge. ‘Understand this, though, mother of my heart. I will not take this young calley bird to bed.’
Nacoya smiled at her reference to the finely plumed birds kept by many nobles for their beauty. ‘A calley bird he is, mistress, and my plan requires that he show us his finest plumage.’
Mara looked heavenward, then nodded. She started her usual brisk walk, but remembered to move out the door with her best imitation of a woman of the Reed Life. Attempting to be languid in her approach to the young suitor, Mara blushed with embarrassment. She thought her entrance was exaggerated to the point of silliness, but Bruli sat up straight upon his cushions. He smiled broadly and jumped to his feet, bowing deferentially to the Lady of the Acoma; all the while his eyes drank in her image.
Once Mara was installed upon her cushions, the young man might even have poured her wine himself, but the servant, who was actually Arakasi, accomplished the service before him. His manner showed no trace of distrust, but Mara knew he would never let his mistress accept any cup touched by a vassal of the Minwanabi. Aware, suddenly, that Bruli had ceased talking, Mara flashed him a brilliant smile. Then, almost shyly, she lowered her eyes and pretended intent interest. His conversation seemed trivial, concerning people and events of seemingly little consequence. But she listened to the gossip of the court and cities as if the subjects fascinated her, and she laughed at Bruli’s attempts at wit. Arakasi directed the house slaves, who came and went with trays of wine-soaked fruit. As Bruli’s breath smelled more and more strongly of spirits, his tongue loosened, and his laughter boomed across the garden. Once or twice he rested his fingers lightly on Mara’s wrist, and though she was not in the least bit intoxicated, his gentleness sent a thrill through her body. Idly she wondered whether Nacoya was right and there was more to love between man and woman that Buntokapi’s rough handling had shown.
But her inner barriers stayed raised. Though to Mara the act was laughable, so awkward did she feel in the role of seductress, the detached observer within her noted that Bruli seemed entranced. His gaze never left her. Once, as she waved Arakasi back to pour more wine, the front of her robe parted slightly. As Nacoya had advised, she hesitated before closing the gap. Bruli’s lashes widened, and his pretty eyes seemed nailed to the slight swell of bosom revealed. How odd, she thought, that a man so handsome should be moved by such a thing. He must have had many women; why should another not bore him? But Nacoya’s wisdom was ancient. Mara followed her adviser’s lead and a little later allowed her hem to creep upward slightly.
Bruli stumbled over his words. Smiling, sipping wine to hide his clumsiness, he still could not help staring at the slowly increasing expanse of her thigh.
Nacoya had been right; testing further, Mara said, ‘Bruli, I must beg your leave to retire. But I hope you will have time to return to us in’ – she pouted, as if thought were very difficult for her, then smiled – ‘say, two days.’ She rose with all the grace she could muster, artfully allowing her robe to fall more open than before. Bruli’s colour deepened. To Mara’s gratification, he returned an emphatic assurance that he would return upon her pleasure. Then he sighed, as if two days seemed a long period.
Mara left the garden, aware that he watched her until she disappeared into the shadows of the house. Nacoya waited at the first door, the glint in her eyes revealing that she had observed the entire hour’s conversation.
‘Do all men have their brains between their legs?’ Mara inquired. Frowning, she compared Bruli’s behaviour to what she remembered of her father’s stern manner and her brother’s rakish charm.
Nacoya hustled her mistress briskly away from the screen. ‘Most, thank the gods.’ Pausing before the door to Mara’s quarters, she added, ‘Mistress, women have few means to rule their own lives. You have the rare fortune to be a Ruling Lady. The rest of us live at the whim of our lords or husbands or fathers, and what you have just practised is the mightiest weapon at our command. Fear the man who doesn’t desire a woman, for he will see you only as a tool or a foe.’ Almost gloatingly, she patted Mara’s shoulder.
