Arakasi bowed and joined Papewaio, who gestured for the Spy Master to follow him to the bathhouse near the barracks.
Left with Keyoke and the presence of thirty-three masterless warriors, Mara remained caught up in thought. After a silent interval she mused softly, ‘The Spy Master of the Tuscai.’ To Keyoke she said, ‘Father always said the Lord of the Tuscai knew more than was righteous in the eyes of the gods. Men joked that he had a magician with a crystal locked away in a vault under his study. Do you suppose this Arakasi was the reason?’
Keyoke offered no direct opinion but said, ‘Be cautious of him, mistress. A man who spies uses honesty least of all. You were right to send him away with Pape.’
‘Loyal Keyoke,’ said Mara with affection in her voice. She tilted her head in the torchlight, indicated the ragged group of men who awaited her command. ‘Do you suppose you can swear this lot to service by the natami, and still have time for a bath and dinner?’
‘I must.’ The Force Commander returned a rare, wry shrug. ‘Though how I’ve lived to be this old while burdened with so much work, only the gods know.’ Before Mara could respond, he shouted a command, and like the trained soldiers they were, the scruffy men crowding the courtyard mustered at the voice of authority.
5 – Bargain
Evening gave way to night.
Soft lights burned in Mara’s chamber. The outer screens had been opened to admit the breeze and the lamplight flickered and danced. The Lady of the Acoma sent away her servants, ordering one to have chocha brought. Alone with Nacoya a moment before the others appeared, Mara stripped off the ostentatious bracelets given her by the Anasati lord. She peeled off her dirty travelling robe and dabbed a damp cloth over her body; a full bath would have to wait until after her meeting with Arakasi.
Nacoya remained silent while Mara refreshed herself, but her eyes never left her young mistress. Neither of them spoke. The reproach Mara saw in those old eyes told all: the girl was inexperienced and foolish, perhaps even dangerously so, in matching herself with Buntokapi. He might appear slow-witted, but he was a powerful warrior, and though barely two years older than she, he had been reared in the Game of the Council while Mara had sheltered in the temple of Lashima.
As Mara wrapped a delicate saffron-coloured robe about herself, the servant returned with the chocha. She motioned permission, and the slave placed his large tray in the centre of the low table, then departed. Mara nodded to Nacoya, indicating that the old woman should prepare cups and napkins.
Her two officers and the stranger arrived punctually upon the hour. Mara studied the newcomer keenly as he bowed and seated himself between Keyoke and Papewaio. Arakasi’s style was impeccably correct, his manner a match for the clothing he now wore in place of his beggar’s rags. Mara suddenly realized she had seen his tasselled scarlet shirt before; the garment was Papewaio’s, his favourite, worn on feast days only. Mara considered the significance of his loan to Arakasi. In the hour that had passed since their meeting in the courtyard, the former Spy Master of the Tuscai must have impressed the Acoma First Strike Leader very favourably. That was a strong recommendation, for, like her father before her, Mara placed strong trust in Papewaio’s instincts about people.
Bolstered by that confidence, she asked, ‘Has Lujan spoken of what we do here?’
Arakasi nodded. ‘He’s off to find more grey warriors to take service.’ He paused, then added, ‘But each time you recruit, you greatly increase the chance spies might infiltrate. Soon you cannot trust any who come here.’
‘You might be such an agent,’ interrupted Nacoya.
‘Old mother, I have nothing to gain by lying.’ Arakasi took charge of the chocha pot, usurping Nacoya’s role as server with flawless ease. Deferentially he filled Mara’s cup, then Nacoya’s, Keyoke’s, and Papewaio’s before his own. ‘Were I a spy for another house, I would simply have enlisted and sent word of your desperate situation back to my master. Then the assassins would come, probably in the next band of recruits. Your suspicions then would become entirely academic, as you would be murdered along with your mistress.’ He put down the pot. ‘And if I didn’t see an opportunity here for myself and my agents, I would have played a farmer, slipped away in the dark, and never troubled any of you again.’
Mara nodded. ‘Your logic is difficult to fault. Now tell us what we need to know of you.’
The stranger answered frankly. ‘I have been employed for over twenty years, to establish and oversee a network of spies spanning the Empire. It now rivals any in the land, including the Warlord’s. I even have agents working for other Spy Masters, one who is dormant, never having been employed, harboured against a day of great need – ‘