Nacoya blinked sleepily, hard of hearing enough that she did not detect the party approaching down the corridor. But she straightened as Mara glanced through the doorway, warned by Arakasi’s bow. He could always be counted upon to affect the manners appropriate to his station; analysing the extent of his deference, Nacoya muttered, ‘The concubine has brought an honour guard, as is her right.’ She fell silent. The hour was too late to caution Mara that any act which might be interpreted as aggressive behaviour towards Teani might be constituted an attack upon a member of the Minwanabi household. The honour guard would then be justified in defending Jingu’s concubine, even duty-bound to do so.
Though Mara assumed her most regal posture and her sternest self-control, she could not repress a small start of fear as the warrior attending Teani stepped around the screen into view. He wore the orange plumes of a Minwanabi Strike Leader, and his features were those of the officer Mara had seen sheathe his bloody blade over the body of Papewaio.
The concubine walked behind, draped in dark silk. Costly metal ornaments pinned her tawny hair, and bracelets sparkled on her wrists. As she stepped up to the screen, Arakasi positioned himself smoothly before her escort. ‘We both wait here . . . against any need.’
That no armed warrior might approach his Lady save by her leave was protocol. He waved Teani over the threshold, and the lamps flickered, winnowed by a draught off the lake.
Mara watched with stony eyes as Teani made her bow. Though endowed with a well-curved figure, close up Teani was not soft. She moved with a predator’s grace, and her eyes reflected cunning and confidence. Mara searched the woman’s form with practised eyes, but cleverly placed folds of silk revealed nothing but seductive triangles of bare skin. Any weapons Teani might carry were well hidden.
Aware, suddenly, that the concubine was assessing her in return, Mara nodded a stiff greeting. ‘There are matters between us to discuss.’ She waved at the cushions opposite.
Teani accepted the invitation and sat. ‘We do have much to discuss.’ She scraped a fleck of dust from her cuff with a sharp-edged fingernail, then added, ‘But nothing to do with gifts from your late husband, Lady. I know the real reason you asked me to come here.’
‘Do you?’ A short silence developed, which Mara extended by sending Nacoya to heat a pot of aub petal tea. Controlled enough not to break first, Teani added nothing more. Mara met the hatred in her eyes with calm. ‘I doubt you know all I have to say.’
While Nacoya bustled back with the pot, the officer who had accompanied Teani watched their every move; since Arakasi had confirmed Mara’s suspicion that Shimizu was the concubine’s lover, she was able to interpret his fanatical expression. He waited like a relli coiled to strike.
Nacoya set cups and strips of spice bark before the cushions. As she began to pour the tea, Teani spoke again. ‘You surely do not expect me to drink in your chambers, Lady of the Acoma.’
Mara smiled, as if the accusation that she might poison a guest were no insult at all. ‘You accepted Acoma hospitality readily enough before.’ And as Teani bridled, she sipped neatly from her own cup and began her opening move. ‘I observe that you have brought Strike Leader Shimizu as your honour guard. That is good, for what I have to say concerns him.’
Teani said nothing, but in the doorway Shimizu shifted his weight onto his toes. Arakasi rested his hand lightly on his sword, though he was no match for a true warrior.
Mara concentrated solely upon the beautiful courtesan before her. In a voice low enough that the soldiers by the door could not hear, she said, ‘My honour guard Papewaio was murdered last night, but not by a thief. I say to you that your honour guard, Shimizu, ran a sword through his heart, thereby forfeiting the surety of the Minwanabi.’
A breeze off the lake dimmed the lamp. Teani smiled in the shadow and abruptly waved Nacoya over to pour her tea. ‘You are no threat to the Minwanabi, Lady Mara.’ Contemptuously, as if her presence were warmly welcome, she crumbled spice bark into the cup, raised it to her lips, and drank. ‘Papewaio cannot return to life to testify.’ Teani had not troubled to lower her voice, and now Shimizu’s eyes were fixed upon the Lady of the Acoma.
Sweat sprang along Mara’s spine. For her father, for her brother, and for Pape, she made herself continue. ‘That is true. But I say that your master is guilty, and your warrior companion was his instrument. You both will swear to the fact . . . or else Jingu will watch his pretty lover die by the rope.’
Teani stiffened. Without spilling her tea, she set down her cup. ‘That’s a threat to frighten children. Why should my master order me a shameful death, when I do nothing but please him?’
Now Mara let her reply ring across the breadth of the room. ‘Because I know that you are a spy for Tecuma of the Anasati.’
For a moment surprise, shock, and naked calculation warred on the concubine’s face. Before Teani could recover her poise, Mara completed her gambit and hoped the gods of chance would support her lie. ‘I have documents that prove you are Tecuma’s sworn servant, and unless you do as I wish, I will have them sent to the Lord of the Minwanabi’.’