Daughter of the Empire

Mara nodded her approval, resuming her interrupted conversation with Jican. ‘Did you say that Hokanu of the Shinzawai requests permission to call upon the Acoma?’

 

 

The hadonra consulted the parchment in his hand, which was of quality penmanship but not an ornamented petition for marriage. ‘The Lord of the Shinzawai sends word that his son will be passing through on his way from their town home in Jamar to the main estates in the north. He begs leave to have Hokanu call upon you.’

 

Mara remembered Hokanu from the wedding, a striking, darkly handsome man about her own age. She did not need Nacoya’s prompting to remind her that he had been one of the choices for her consort before she had selected Buntokapi.

 

Aware of Arakasi’s intent expression, Mara asked the Spy Master’s opinion.

 

‘Hokanu’s interest might be a wise thing to foster. The Shinzawai are among the oldest and most influential families in the High Council; the grandfather was Clan Kanazawai Warchief until he retired, then Kamatsu was. Two Warchiefs in succession from the same family shows rare deftness in clan politics. And they are not vicious players of the Game of the Council, but have gained position through skill and intelligence, with no blood feuds under way, and no debts. And they are the only major family beside the Xacatecas not in alliance with the Warlord, the Minwanabi, or the Anasati. But they are enmeshed in some plot of the Blue Wheel Party.’

 

So Arakasi, too, thought an alliance through marriage would benefit the Acoma. But Mara’s interest was political only. ‘What plot?’

 

‘I don’t know,’ Arakasi gestured in frustration. ‘My agents are not well placed for getting inside information on the Blue Wheel. I deduce a move is afoot to blunt the influence of the Warlord, since Blue Wheel sentiment within the council holds that Almecho commands too much power. Still, since Almecho’s invasion of the barbarian world, that movement has all but ceased to exist. Even the Shinzawai provide support. Kamatsu’s oldest son, Kasumi, is a Force Leader of the Kanazawai forces upon Midkemia’ – the Spy Master frowned as he pronounced the foreign names – ‘facing the armies of Crydee in the westernmost province of what the barbarians call the Kingdom of the Isles.’

 

Mara was always astonished at the amount of information Arakasi could remember, even down to seemingly trivial details. He never made notes or kept lists; other than coded messages disguised as normal business documents, he never permitted his agents to write their reports. And his intuitive guesses were uncanny.

 

‘Do you think the Blue Wheel Party had changed alliance?’ she asked.

 

‘No.’ Arakasi seemed certain. ‘The world of Midkemia holds too many riches for one man’s gain, and Kamatsu is too crafty a player of the game. I expect the Blue Wheel will withdraw support from the Alliance for War at a critical moment, leaving the Warlord dangerously overextended. If so, the aftermath should prove interesting.’

 

Mara reconsidered the note from the Lord of the Shinzawai in the light of this information and reluctantly decided to decline. Her plans for Bruli and the snarled state of Acoma financial affairs would prevent her from honouring Hokanu with the hospitality he deserved. Later, perhaps, she would send him an invitation to make up for the regret she must send now. ‘Jican, instruct the scribes to answer with a polite letter informing the younger son of the Lord of the Shinzawai that we will be unable to offer our hospitality at this time . . . My Lord’s death has left much confusion in the affairs of the estate, and for this we must humbly beg understanding. I will sign the parchment personally, for Hokanu is one I earnestly wish not to offend.’

 

Jican made a note on his tally slate. Then his brow furrowed with more than usual resignation. ‘There is the matter of the late Lord Bunto’s gambling debts, Lady.’

 

Tired of sitting, Mara rose and wandered over to the screen that opened onto the garden. Staring at the flowers, she said, ‘How much did he lose?’

 

The hadonra answered without hesitation, as if the numbers had haunted his sleep for some nights. ‘Seven thousand centuries of metal, twenty-seven dimis, and sixty-five cintis . . . and four tenths.’

 

Mara turned to face him. ‘Can we pay it?’

 

‘Certainly, though it will limit capital flow for a season, until the next crop is sold off.’ As if the matter pained him, Jican added, ‘We shall have to deal in some credits.’

 

But the cho-ja craftsmen were starting to produce marketable jade; the time of debt would be short. Mara said, ‘Pay them now.’

 

Jican made another note. “Then there is the matter of the debt of the Lord of the Tuscalora.’

 

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