The Spy Master accepted the implication with the barest indication of a smile. ‘Very wise, indeed, my Lady.’
And by his tone of relief, Mara understood. He had thought she intended to flee the Minwanabi, now, while she was reunited with her warriors. Nacoya would have agreed to remain behind towards this end, an intentional sacrifice to blind Minwanabi to her mistress’s intention to break and run for home. Mara swallowed, pained again by grief. How readily the old woman might have embraced such a ruse, her abandonment in an enemy house a gambit to ensure Acoma continuance.
‘Papewaio was sacrifice enough,’ Mara said, sharply enough for Arakasi to know that flight was the last of her intentions.
The Spy Master nodded fractionally. ‘Good. You would not have survived, in any event. Minwanabi has ringed his estates with his armies, with the appearance of safeguarding the presence of his guests. But over their drink and their dice, his soldiers admit that many others without colours wait outside the estate borders, posing as pirates or roving bands of outlaws, to trap the Lady of the Acoma.’
Mara’s eyes widened. ‘And how did you know this? By borrowing an orange tunic and mingling with the enemy?’
Arakasi chuckled, very low in his throat. ‘Hardly that, my Lady. I have informants.’ He regarded his mistress, studying a face that was pale but for the faint flush lent by the heat of the fire. Her slight frame was straight, and her eyes afraid but determined. ‘Since we stay and confront the Lord of the Minwanabi, there are things you should know.’
Now Mar? showed the slightest indication of triumph. ‘Loyal Arakasi. I those you because I trusted you to hate the Lord of the Minwanabi as I do. We understand each other very well. Now tell me all you know that will help me to humble this man who murdered my family and a warrior who was most dear to my heart.’
‘He has a weak link in his household,’ Arakasi said without preamble. ‘A relli in his nest that he does not know about. I have discovered that Teani is an Anasati spy.’
Mara drew a startled breath. ‘Teani?’ She assessed this and suddenly felt more than the chill of the rain. All along, Nacoya had insisted that the concubine had been more dangerous than Mara credited; and Mara had not listened, a mistake that might have cost her everything she had struggled to gain, for here was a Minwanabi servant who had no concern should Mara’s death cost Jingu his life and honour. In fact, to arrange such a pass would no doubt please Tecuma, as it would avenge Buntokapi’s death and remove the man most likely to cause little Ayaki harm. Mara wasted no time on recriminations but at once began to calculate how this information might be used to her advantage. ‘What else do you know of Teani?’
‘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.