a smile. As if conceding a favour, she added, ‘Lord Jidu, I am willing to cancel your debt in exchange for the land and all privileges granted along with it. Also, you will vow not to oppose the Acoma for the remainder of your life.’
The wizened hadonra stiffened in poorly hidden alarm; he whispered in his master’s ear. The Lord of the Tuscalora heard him, then smiled unctuously at Mara. ‘As long as the Tuscalora are allowed access to the Imperial Highway for our wagons, I’ll agree.’
The Lady of the Acoma returned a gracious wave of her fan. ‘But of course. Your workers may drive your wagons down the gully to the highway anytime they wish, Lord Jidu.’
‘Done!’ Lord Jidu’s cheeks bulged into a smile. ‘My word upon it! And gladly.’ Then in an attempt to reduce tensions, he bowed low. ‘I also salute your courage and wisdom, Lady, that this unfortunate confrontation has brought a closer bond between our two families.’
Mara gestured to Papewaio, who helped her rise. ‘I’ll have your vow, Jidu. Bring out your family sword.’
For a moment there was tension in the air again, for Mara was publicly demanding the most sacred oath in place of a simple assurance. Still, until the Tuscalora fields were clear of Acoma warriors, Lord Jidu dared not protest. He sent a servant to fetch the ancient sword of his forefathers, one as old as any in the Empire, precious steel wrapped in a simple sheath of cane wood. While Mara and her officer looked on, the Lord of the Tuscalora gripped the hilt and pronounced his oath to abide by his promise in the name of his ancestors.
At last satisfied, Mara gestured to her soldiers. They helped her back into her bloodstained litter. Her face seemed pale as she lay back in her cushions. Gently her retinue lifted her onto their shoulders. As they prepared to carry their wounded mistress home, Mara nodded at the Lord of the Tuscalora. ‘The debt is met fairly, Jidu. I will gladly tell anyone who asks that the Lord of the Tuscalora is a man of honour who meets his obligations without flinching.’ Then she added, pointedly, ‘And abides by his promises. All will know your word is your bond.’
The Lord of the Tuscalora stood unflinching under the sting of her sarcasm. He had underrated her and had lost a great deal of prestige through the mistake. But at least the breach of honour would not become public knowledge, and for that small grace he thanked the heavens.
When the Acoma retinue was safely away from the Tuscalora house, Mara closed her eyes and hid her face in her hands. Alarmed, Papewaio stepped closer to the litter. ‘You took a very great risk, my Lady. Yet you triumphed.’
Mara’s reply came muffled through her hands. ‘Many brave men were killed.’
Papewaio nodded. ‘But they died like warriors, mistress. Those who gained honour at your command will sing your praises before the gods.’ He fell silent then, for the litter seemed to be shaking. ‘My Lady?’
Papewaio looked to see what ailed his mistress. Behind the shield of her palms, Mara was weeping with anger. Papewaio left her to her own release for a time, then said, ‘If the gully is flooded, the Lord of the Tuscalora will have no easy way to take his crops to market.’
Mara’s hands came down. Despite red eyes and a white face, her expression showed crafty triumph. ‘If Jidu is forced to use the long pass around the gorge to reach the Imperial Highway, his chocha-la will spoil with mould by the time it reaches Sulan-Qu. That will cause hardship for my Lord of the Tuscalora, for I doubt he’ll be able to pay the toll I will impose upon use of my needra bridge.’ When Papewaio turned curious eyes upon his mistress, she added, ‘You heard Jidu vow never to oppose the Acoma? Well, that is a start. That fat dog will be my first vassal. Within the season, Pape, within the season.’
The Acoma Strike Leader marched along, considering what this young woman had accomplished since he had accompanied Keyoke to the temple to bring her home. He nodded once to himself. Yes, Jidu of the Tuscalora would bend his knee before Mara or else forfeit his harvest. Such were the ways of the game, and Mara had gained the victory. There could be no doubt.
The brightly painted litter sitting in the dooryard of the Acoma estate house confirmed that Bruli of the Kehotara awaited the Lady of the Acoma. Mara reined in her irritation. Returned from the hive of the cho-ja, whose growing Queen had offered wonderful balms for healing Mara’s shoulder, the young woman dismissed her bearers and escort. She must at least offer her personal greeting before giving Bruli an excuse to quit her presence, or else risk insult to the Kehotara. Which, Mara considered, might just be one of the reasons the Lord of the Minwanabi had dispatched his vassal’s handsome son to the Acoma estate.
Misa, the prettier of her personal maids, waited just inside the door. She held a comb and brush, and one arm was draped with a richly embroidered overrobe whose colours would set off her mistress’s dark eyes. Recognizing the hand of Nacoya in the appointing of the welcoming committee, Mara submitted without comment. With the slightest of frowns marring her brow, she stood while Misa’s hands expertly arranged her hair into a knot fastened with jewelled pins. The overrobe fastened in front with a row of flimsy ribbons, yet hid the white bandage that dressed the wound on her upper arm. Questioning Nacoya’s taste, Mara nodded briskly for Misa to retire, then made her way to the great hall where Nacoya was entertaining her guest in her absence.
The young son of the Kehotara rose and bowed formally on her entrance. He wore a costly robe buttoned with sapphires, the high cut of the hem and sleeves showing his legs and arms to good advantage.
‘Bruli, how pleasant to see you again.’ Mara sat on the cushions opposite the young man, bemused by his changed appearance. He was a good-looking man. Inwardly, she considered that most young ladies would have been flattered, even anxious, to be the focus of this suitor’s attention. His smile almost glowed and his charm was undeniable. In some ways it was a pity he was born to a noble house, for he could easily have been a master of the Reed Life and retired wealthy from the rewards of sharing his charms with powerful clients.
‘My Lady, I am pleased to see you again.’ Bruli seated himself, neatly tucking his sandals beneath his calves. ‘I trust the business with your neighbour went well?’
Mara nodded absently. ‘Merely a small debt from Jidu to my late Lord Buntokapi that needed settlement. The matter has been resolved.’
A flicker of interest stirred in the eyes of the young man, at odds with his languid expression. Reminded that Bruli might himself be an agent for the Minwanabi, Mara steered the conversation away from her contention with Lord Jidu. ‘My outing this morning has left me tired and hot. If you will join me, I will have my servant bring wine and cakes to the garden.’ To allow her tactic time to have effect, she seized upon the simplest excuse. ‘I will meet you there after I change into a more comfortable robe.’
Nacoya nodded almost imperceptibly, telling Mara that her delay had been opportune. The young suitor bowed. While a servant led him away, the First Adviser to the Acoma hurried to her mistress’s side, her usual grouchy manner replaced by solicitude. ‘Did the cho-ja ease your pain?’
‘Yes.’ Mara fingered the ribbons on the overrobe. ‘Now, mother of my heart, will you explain to me what this silly frippery has to do with our plans for young Bruli?’
Nacoya’s eyes widened with evil delight. ‘Ah, Mara-anni, you have much to learn of the ways of men!’ Taking her charge firmly by the hand, she towed her off to her private quarters. ‘This afternoon you must do your best to be the temptress, my Lady. I have selected appropriate raiment for you to wear after your bath.’
Crossing the threshold, Nacoya displayed a conspirator’s excitement. Servants could be heard pouring bath water behind the small folding partition, and
