Mara acknowledged the greeting with the barest wave of her hand and stepped across the threshold into shadow tinged scarlet by the sunlight that filtered through the hangings. An aroma of sweet spices filled the air, mixed with furniture oil and a woman’s perfume. The house staff, numbering four, sank to their knees, awaiting Mara’s command as she surveyed the fine rugs, a shell-inlaid weapons rack, and chests enamelled and set with red gems. Her husband’s town house was a cosy enough nest, she decided. But the taste and the decor of the place were influenced by a mind other than that of her late husband. Buntokapi would never have set marble statues of nymphs by the doorway, and the paintings on the screens were of flowers and graceful birds, not the battle scenes he invariably chose for himself.
Mara waited until Papewaio and Arakasi reached her side. The sword carried by the former was not for show, and the latter wore an officer’s plumes, to disguise his true purpose; but in the end Mara did not require the Spy Master’s guidance to spot the woman who had won her husband’s heart, all for the motive of spying for the Minwanabi. Though Teani bowed submissively with the other servants, she could never be mistaken for other than Buntokapi’s mistress.
Mara studied her profile and understood her husband’s obsession. The concubine was a truly beautiful woman, with unblemished skin and hair touched by sun-gold and red – though Mara suspected that effect might have come from artifice rather than nature. Even though she was kneeling, the light silk of the concubine’s robes draped a ripe, soft figure with breasts that were high and well formed despite being large, a small waist, and flaring hips. Mara’s own body seemed boyish in comparison, and for no good reason the fact rankled. For every minute Buntokapi had been gone from the estate, his wife had thanked the gods; yet now the stunning beauty of the woman he had preferred irked Mara. A voice remembered from the temple warned, ‘Beware vanity and false pride.’ Mara almost laughed. Yes, she was feeling wounded vanity and injured pride. And yet fate had been kind in an odd and unexpected way.
Jingu of the Minwanabi had sent this woman to further his plot to destroy the Acoma. But instead, Teani only managed to distract Buntokapi, enabling Mara to realize her plans more quickly. And the ultimate aim of those plans was the strengthening of House Acoma . . . and the destruction of the Minwanabi. Mara savoured the irony in silence. Teani must go back to her master ignorant that her true role had been uncovered. Let Jingu think this woman had been banished by a jealous wife.
Prudently, Mara motioned for two of her soldiers to stand guard by the door. Then, stepping ahead of her bodyguards, but keeping carefully beyond reach of a knife thrust, she spoke to the kneeling concubine. ‘What is your name?’
‘Teani, mistress.’ The woman kept her eyes cast downward.
Mara distrusted her subservience. ‘Look at me.’
Teani raised her head, and Mara heard a slight stir from the warriors who looked on. The concubine’s golden, heart-shaped face framed lovely eyes, almost amber in colour. Her features were perfect, and sweet as the honey in the hives of the red-bee. But beyond beauty, Mara saw something that made her hesitate. This woman was dangerous, as much a threat as any player in the Great Game. Yet the Lady of the Acoma spoke no hint of her conclusion aloud. ‘What are your duties?’
Still upon her knees, Teani said, ‘I served your husband as a maid, mistress.’
The Lady of the Acoma almost laughed at the woman’s brazen act. To call herself a maid while sitting upon her heels in a robe more costly than any Mara owned save for her ceremonial attire was an insult to human intelligence. Brusquely Mara said, ‘I think not.’
Teani’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing. Then Mara understood: for the briefest instant the concubine had wondered whether her role as spy was discovered. To disarm any suspicion, Mara enquired after the other servants. ‘What are your duties?’
The staff identified themselves as a cook, a gardener, and a maid, facts Mara already knew from the intelligence given her by Jican. She ordered the three of them to the estate and told them to ask the hadonra for new duties. They left quickly, glad to be avoiding the coming confrontation between their late Lord’s wife and his mistress.
When the room was empty save for Mara, Teani, and the soldiers, Mara said, ‘I think we shall have no need for your services at the estate house.’
Teani’s poise remained admirably unbroken. ‘Have I displeased my mistress?’