‘What did he say?’ Mara demanded, losing her poise to impatience.
The interpreter raised sandy eyebrows in a look of unfeigned surprise. He seemed to try the words out on his tongue once, to ascertain their validity before he answered. ‘These are the Chiefs of the Seven Tribes of Dustari’s northern desert, called the Winds of Sand, in their dialect. They are here to swear enmity and blood debt against the man whom you know as Tasaio of the Minwanabi. Further, since the lands of Minwanabi are across the great sea, and warriors from the Winds of Sand may not travel within the Empire, these, the Chiefs of the Seven Tribes of the Winds of Sand, are here to ask an alliance between your tribes and theirs.’
Mara and Lord Chipino locked eyes in satisfaction. Then Mara inclined her head, granting the Lord of the Xacatecas his right to speak for them both. Lord Chipino gave answer, looking directly into the hot, dark eyes of the desert chief, and not waiting for the interpreter to keep up. ‘Tell the Chiefs of the Winds of Sand,’ he intoned, ‘that our tribes would welcome such alliance. Further, our tribes of Acoma and Xacatecas will promise to send to the Chiefs of the Winds of Sand Tasaio’s sword, as evidence that blood debt has been met and paid in full.’ It was assumed the desert men would know enough of imperial custom to know the only way a warrior’s sword could be acquired would be to take it from dead fingers. ‘But if the Acoma and Xacatecas so swear to this alliance, they must have assurance upon clan honour that the tribes of the Winds of Sand will sign treaty with the Empire in Dustari. Raids upon the borderlands must stop, so that the Acoma and Xacatecas may be free to pursue the tribe of Minwanabi and claim blood price. So that the tribes of the Winds of Sand need no reason to raid, we shall establish an outpost that will be a free trading town for the tribes.’ He smiled at Mara. ‘It will be jointly administered by the Acoma.’ Turning back to the chieftains, he said, ‘Any traders seeking to cheat or rob our new allies will have to deal with the Xacatecas and the Acoma.’
The interpreter hastily caught up, and silence fell. The faces of the desert men stayed inscrutable for an interval. Then the leader stamped his foot and spat upon the sand. He ejected one curt syllable, spun on his heel, and departed, the others falling in after him.
The interpreter, looking astounded, turned to Mara and Chipino. ‘He said yes.’
Lord Xacatecas laughed in disbelief. ‘Just like that?’
The interpreter returned a gesture betraying that he had desert blood somewhere in his ancestry. ‘The Lord of the Seven Chiefs of the Winds of Sand spat water.’
When nobody’s puzzlement cleared, he made a small sign of impatience. ‘That is life oath, for a chief and all of his tribe. He, and his heirs, and all of his clansmen and relations would die by ritual starvation were any of the Winds of Sand to break trust. My Lord, my Lady, you have just concluded a treaty with the desert men more binding than any ever sealed in all the long history of the Empire.’
This took a second or two to sink in. When it did, Lord Chipino grinned delightedly. ‘A worthy exchange for Tasaio’s sword, I should think. Certainly that part of the bargain will not be a bother to carry out.’
Then Kevin whooped and caught Mara into a hug, and spun her around. ‘You can go home,’ he said delightedly. ‘Home to your estate and Ayaki.’
Lujan stood bemused, scratching his chin, and Chipino, with characteristic dry irony, summed up. ‘Our houses will receive recognition and honour from the Emperor himself for this. And Lord Desio will chew rocks when he finds out.’ Then, as if his own thoughts turned toward home, he muttered, ‘Isashani will be furious to know how much weight I have lost. Shall we retire to my command tent and share breakfast?’
13 – Realignment
The guard signalled.
Desio of the Minwanabi strode into the vast conference chamber, his nailed sandals striking the flagstone with a surprisingly loud snap. Incomo watched his master approach the dais, his broad hands stripping off his battle gloves, which he flung to the body servant who scurried to keep up. While still not the crafty schemer his father had been, nor as brilliant a strategist as his cousin, Desio now threw himself into the tasks he had avoided at the start of his rule.
Before his First Adviser could speak, the Lord shouted, is it true?’
Incomo clutched the latest report tighter to his chest and nodded.