Dust rolled under the feet of marching warriors as the Acoma retinue moved slowly to rejoin the balance of their soldiers, who waited in the camp by the bridge that marked the border of the Anasati estates. Nacoya had been quiet since she joined Mara on the cushions of the large palanquin. Whatever the Ruling Lady planned, she kept her own counsel, and Nacoya chose not to ask any questions. Even though she was acting as First Adviser, she could not guide unless asked; but an old nurse could let her doubts be heard. Conjuring up images of Buntokapi’s crudities at the feast the night before, Nacoya spoke sourly to her charge. ‘I hope you can control him, mistress.’
Roused from deep thought, Mara’s eyes focused. ‘What? Oh, Bunto. He’s like a needra bull smelling the cows in season, Nacoya. All his brains are between his legs. I think he is exactly the man to gain us what we need.’
Nacoya muttered under her breath. Once the shock of Mara’s choice of Buntokapi had worn off, the old nurse had come to sense a larger plan. Mara was not simply giving up her family’s control to the Anasati in exchange for preserving the Acoma name. Since the ruse with the bandits in the hills, the girl confided only those things she felt Nacoya needed to know. Almost overnight, it seemed, the sheltered temple innocent had shown she was no longer a child. While Nacoya had doubts, even fears, concerning the girl’s stubborn naivete about men, Mara had forcefully demonstrated she was an aggressive player of the Game of the Council.
Nacoya reviewed the strengths and weaknesses, patterns and powers of the players in the light of her mistress’s new commitment. And what she had observed in Buntokapi made her convinced that her beloved Mara might have underestimated him. There was something about the Anasati’s third son, something dangerous that Nacoya could put no name to. Dreading how her well-ordered house would fare under such a Ruling Lord, she was drawn from her musing by Mara’s voice. ‘I wonder what’s amiss?’
Nacoya parted the curtains. Squinting against the brilliance of the afternoon sunlight, she saw Acoma soldiers arrayed along the road where they had camped. But none stood ready to march; instead they faced each other in two groups, with some distance between. Softly Nacoya said, ‘Trouble, I’m afraid.’
Mara ordered her own escort to halt. Pulling aside the gauzy hanging cloth, she approved Keyoke’s request to investigate.
With a speed that belied his age, the Force Commander left the head of the procession and hurried into the midst of milling Acoma soldiers. Both groups descended upon him, several men trying to speak simultaneously. Keyoke ordered silence, and instantly all voices ceased. After two orderly questions he called back to Mara, ‘Some difficulty arose while we were gone, mistress. I’ll have the story for you in a moment.’
Heat shimmers danced in the air above the roadway. Keyoke asked questions, received quick replies, and soon had three men stand out. He briskly marched these before their mistress’s palanquin. Even beneath dirt, and shining runnels of sweat, Mara could see the marks of a fight upon their faces.
‘This is Selmon, my Lady.’ Keyoke pointed to a man with a torn tunic and knuckles that still bled.
‘I know.’ Mara’s expression was obscured by the deep shade of the curtains. ‘One of the newcomers.’ She used the term ‘newcomers’ for all who had recently been grey warriors. ‘With only three officers, you left him in command as acting Patrol Leader.’
Keyoke appeared pleased that Mara was conversant with his management of the soldiers, but his attention never strayed from the three soldiers. ‘Selmon seemed able enough, but perhaps I was wrong.’
Mara studied the other two men. One, Zataki, she had known for years; as a boy, he had played with Lanokota and herself. Mara remembered he had a temper, and ventured a guess as to what the problem was. ‘Zataki, Selmon gave you an order and you refused.’
Zataki lifted his chin. ‘My Lady, this Selmon ordered us to stand the first watch while he and his companions rested and ate after the long day’s march.’
Mara regarded the third combatant. ‘You are . . . Kartachaltaka, another newcomer. You took exception to Zataki’s refusal to obey.’
Now Kartachaltaka stiffened his spine. ‘My Lady, he and the others act superior to us and put the least desirable duties upon us whenever they may.’
Mara returned her attention to Selmon. ‘You took this one’s side?’
Keyoke hastened to answer. ‘No, my Lady. He simply sought to intervene and stop the scuffle. He acted appropriately.’
Mara rose from her cushions. Without awaiting Keyoke’s help, she stepped from her palanquin and faced the two men who had fought. ‘On your knees!’ she commanded. Though a full head shorter than either man, the slight girl in pale yellow robes and sandals left no doubt she was the ultimate authority of the Acoma.
Armour rattled as both men instantly fell into postures of submission. ‘Attend me!’ Mara cried to the other soldiers. ‘All of you.’
Keyoke shouted, ‘Form ranks!’ The entire retinue lined up facing Mara within seconds, the two soldiers on their knees with their backs towards the comrades.
To Keyoke, Mara said, ‘What is fit punishment for such as these?’