Looking past the shoulders of her guards at the slender man, Mara demanded, ‘What is your name?’
Regaining his bantering manner, the bandit leader leaned on his sword. ‘Lujan, Lady.’ He still showed deference to one obviously noble. ‘Since I am destined to be your host for a time, may I enquire whom I have the honour of addressing?’
Several outlaws laughed at their leader’s mock display of manners. Mara’s escort stiffened with affront, but the girl herself remained calm. ‘I am Mara, Lady of the Acoma.’
Conflicting expressions played across Lujan’s face: surprise, amusement, concern, then at last consideration; he lifted his sword and gestured delicately with the point. ‘Then you are without husband or father, Lady of the Acoma. You must negotiate your own ransom.’ Even as he spoke, his eyes played across the woodlands behind Papewaio and Mara, for her confident stance and the smallness of her retinue suggested something out of place. Ruling Ladies of great houses did not place themselves at risk without reason. Something in his posture caused alarm in his men, nearly a hundred and fifty of them, as well as Mara could estimate. Their nervousness grew as she watched; some cast about for signs of trouble, while others seemed on the point of charging Papewaio’s position without order.
As if the situation were not about to turn from dangerous to deadly, Mara smiled and fingered her bracelets. ‘My Force Commander said I might be annoyed by an unkempt lot like you.’ Her voice became peevish. ‘I despise him when he’s right. Now I’ll never hear the end of his nattering!’ At this some of the outlaws burst into laughter.
Papewaio showed no reaction to this unlikely description of Keyoke. He relaxed slightly, aware that his mistress sought to lessen tension and avoid an imminent conflict. Mara looked at the bandit chieftain, outwardly defiant but secretly attempting to gauge his mood. He insolently levelled his weapon in her direction. ‘How convenient for us you failed to take your adviser’s suggestion seriously. In future you would be well advised to heed such counsel . . . if you have the opportunity.’
Several of the Acoma soldiers tensed at the implied threat. Surreptitiously Mara touched Papewaio’s back to reassure him, then said girlishly, ‘Why would I not have have the opportunity?’
With a display of mock regret, Lujan lowered his sword. ‘Because, Lady, if our negotiations prove unsatisfactory, you will be in no position to hear your Force Commander again.’ His eyes darted, seeking possible trouble; everything about this raid was askew.
‘What do you mean!’ Mara stamped her foot as she spoke, ignoring the dangerous attitude the bandit’s threat roused in her escort.
‘I mean that while I’m not certain how much value you place on your own freedom, I do know what price you’ll fetch on the slave blocks at Migran.’ Lujan jumped back half a step, sword poised, as Acoma guards barely restrained themselves from answering such insult with attack. Sure of retaliation, the bandits raised weapons and crouched.
Lujan scanned the clearing furiously as both sides stood on the brink of combat. Yet no charge came. A gleam of understanding entered the outlaw’s eyes. ‘You plot something, pretty mistress?’ The words were half question, half statement.
Unexpectedly amused by the man’s impudence, Mara saw that the outlaw’s brash and provocative comments were intended to test her mettle in turn. She realized how closely she had come to underestimating this Lujan. That such a clever man could go to waste! she thought. Striving to buy time, she shrugged like a spoiled child.
Lujan stepped boldly forward and, reaching through the line of her guards, fingered the scarf at her neck with a rough and dirty hand.
Reaction followed instantaneously. Lujan felt sudden pressure against his wrist. Looking down, he saw Papewaio’s sword a hairsbreadth away from severing his hand. The outlaw’s head jerked up so his eyes were level with the Strike Leader’s. In flat tones Papewaio said, ‘There is a limit.’
Lujan’s fingers unclenched slowly, freeing Mara’s scarf. He smiled nervously, adroitly withdrawing his hand, then stepped away from Mara’s guard. His manner now turned suspicious and hostile, for under normal circumstances to touch a Lady in such a way would have cost his life. ‘There is some deception here, Lady. What game is this?’ He gripped his sword tightly, and his men shuffled forward, awaiting only his order to attack.
Suddenly aware that Mara and her officer were closely observing the rocks above the clearing, the bandit chieftain swore. ‘No Ruling Lady would travel with so few warriors! Aie, I am a fool!’