Janny Wurts - The Complete Empire Trilogy

‘The news is very recent. Word just reached me last night.’ Arakasi lifted the plume and, by tilting his head to affix it to his helm, managed to speak directly into Mara’s ear. ‘I know the concubine shares her favours with one of the higher-ranking officers, which the Lord suspects but has not proven. Jingu has many women he calls upon, but she is his favourite. He does not care to do without her … talents long.’

Mara considered this, gazing into the flames of Papewaio’s pyre; and a memory returned, of fire and dark, when Pape had lain still warm in the courtyard at her feet. Teani had accompanied the Lord of the Minwanabi. While Jingu had made a show of surprise, Teani seemed genuinely startled by Mara’s presence. Jingu had spoken briefly to Shimizu, who had surely been Pape’s executioner, while Teani’s eyes had followed the Minwanabi’s Strike Leader with contempt of a startling intensity. Mara had been preoccupied with Papewaio at the time, and the concubine’s twisted hatred had not seemed significant. Now, though, the memory gained importance, particularly since Teani’s reaction had caused Shimizu discomfort. ‘What is the name of Teani’s lover?’ Mara inquired.

Arakasi shook his head. ‘I don’t know, mistress. But when we reach the estate house, I can send my agent there to find out.’

Mara turned her head away as the flames consumed Papewaio’s body. Watching was too painful, and the gesture gave her a better chance to speak to Arakasi over the loud crackle of the flames. ‘I will wager a full year’s harvest it’s Shimizu.’

Arakasi nodded, his expression set with sympathy as if his Lady expressed some thought on the valour of the departed. ‘No bet, mistress; he’s the most likely candidate.’

The oil-soaked wood beneath Papewaio finally caught, and flame erupted skyward, hot enough to consume even bone and hardened hide armour. Only ashes would remain when the pyre cooled.

‘Pape,’ murmured Mara. ‘You will be avenged along with my father and brother.’ And now, while the sky wept cold drizzle, the fires consumed all that was mortal of the staunchest warrior Mara had known. She waited, no longer cold, her mind preoccupied with the beginning of a plan.

Mara returned to the Warlord’s suite following Papewaio’s funeral. Soaked to the skin, and accompanied by an honour guard who also dripped wet on the waxed wooden floor, she found Nacoya up from her sleeping mat. In a waspish frame of mind, the old woman ordered Mara’s two maids to stop fussing over the carry boxes for the move to new quarters and attend their mistress at once.

The Lady of the Acoma fended off the attentions of the maids, sending them back to their packing. Though aware that Nacoya was overwrought, she saw little sense in rushing the process of changing and refreshing herself after the funeral. For now she needed the security of the Warlord’s suite.

Mara paused long enough to shake her dripping hair loose from its coil. Then she nodded to Arakasi, who placed the urn containing Papewaio’s remains by the carry boxes and stepped forward.

‘Go and seek Desio,’ Mara instructed the man who now played the role of warrior. ‘Tell him we will need servants to conduct us and our belongings to the new suite the Lord of the Minwanabi has seen fit to assign the Acoma.’

Arakasi bowed, showing no sign that his orders would be taken any way but literally. He left in silence, knowing Mara would understand that he would find Desio, but not by the most direct route. The Spy Master would seek his contacts and, with luck, return with the information Mara needed on Teani.

The weather cleared by sunset, and with the passing of the rain the guests of the Lord of the Minwanabi grew restless with the inactivity of contemplation. A few of them gathered in the larger courtyards, to play mo-jo-go, a gambling card game, while others staged bouts of mock combat between the more skilled warriors of their honour guards, with heavy betting. With Papewaio’s recent death, Mara understandably did not participate; but the casual mingling of Minwanabi’s household staff and the informality of the Lords present offered an ideal chance for Arakasi to gather intelligence. Watching him through the slightly parted screen door of her chambers, Mara could not guess whether the Spy Master had contacts in every major Lord’s retinue, or whether the man’s acting ability enabled him to lure even loyal men into casual conversation. However he garnered his news, by sundown when Arakasi returned with the second of his reports, his information about Teani was astonishingly detailed.

‘You were right, Lady. Shimizu is certainly Teani’s lover.’ Arakasi accepted thyza bread and delicately smoked meats from a tray offered by Nacoya. Mara had chosen to eat supper in her rooms and had invited the Spy Master to share her meal.

The Lady of the Acoma watched with unreadable eyes while Arakasi arranged strips of needra on thyza pastry. His clever fingers rolled the result into a twist, which he ate with the manners of a born noble. ‘More than that,’ he resumed, knowing Mara would take his meaning, ‘Teani has the Minwanabi Strike Leader netted like a fish. He follows along as she pulls, though his better instincts might be inclined otherwise.’

Here the Spy Master paused in his repast. ‘Last night the two lovers quarrelled.’ He grinned. ‘The servant lighting lamps overheard and stayed around cleaning wicks – he found the conversation fascinating. The man was reluctant to speak to my agent, as the name of their Lord had been mentioned, but whatever the final disposition, Teani has been snappish as a bitch ever since. Shimizu can be expected to do anything to regain her favour.’

‘Anything?’ Bored with eating, Mara waved to Nacoya, who brought damp cloths to wipe her face and hands. ‘That does offer possibilities, does it not?’ While Arakasi ate freely, Mara considered: Shimizu had slain Papewaio by treachery; Teani might be forced into manipulating him to admit his Lord had ordered the death of the Acoma officer. As an Anasati spy, Teani had no true loyalty to Jingu. She would be the only servant in his house unwilling to die for Minwanabi honour. Mara made up her mind. ‘I wish you to have a message delivered to Teani,’ she said to Arakasi. ‘Can this be done in secrecy?’

Now it was the Spy Master’s turn to lose his appetite. ‘If I could presume to guess what plan you have in mind, it is risky, no, dangerous in the extreme. By my assessment, the concubine cannot be depended upon to protect her true master, the Lord of the Anasati. She has betrayed a master before, perhaps more than one, and I suspect she may have murdered another.’

Mara, too, had studied Teani’s background, that of an abused street prostitute who had grown to love her profession, and one thing more: twisted ambition. In the past the woman had sold out lovers and friends and even done murder upon men who had visited her bed. At first these acts had been ones of survival; but later she had continued out of greed, and a hunger for power. That Mara shared Arakasi’s opinion of the concubine’s reliability mattered little at this point. ‘Arakasi, if you have a better plan, I will embrace it.’

The Spy Master gestured in the negative; and deep in his eyes Mara read approval as she said, ‘Very well. Fetch me parchment and pen, and have my message sent to this woman by nightfall.’

Arakasi bowed and did as he was bid. Inwardly he admired the boldness of Mara’s intentions; yet his sharp eyes did not miss the slight tremble of her hand as she penned the note that would begin her attempt to redress the power-hungry rapacity of the Minwanabi Lord.

The lamp flame flickered in the draught as Teani paced to the screen and spun around, the mantle fanning an agitated breeze across the cheek of Strike Leader Shimizu. ‘You should not have summoned me at this hour,’ he said, disappointed with himself because already his annoyance was fading. ‘You know that I cannot shirk my duty to attend you, and I am due on watch in an hour.’