His curiosity became piqued. As the polemen manoeuvred the barge to the dockside, Desio had Force Commander Irrilandi call his warriors to attention.
The Anasati craft bumped against the landing. Slaves at bow and stern leaped ashore to secure lines; and a strange and unsettling growl issued from the depths of the crate; apparently the container confined a vicious animal. An avid enthusiast of the Imperial Games, which held spectacles of beastfights and warriors, Desio craned his neck until a nudge from Incomo recalled decorum.
Soldiers in Anasati red and yellow were already stepping onto the wharf. In their midst, robed in velvet stitched with river pearls, Jiro greeted his host with a graceful bow. He was slightly older than Desio, decisively more poised, and strictly observant of the forms. Without hesitation, he said, ‘Are you well, Lord Desio?’
‘I am well, Jiro of the Anasati.’ Eyes narrowed, Desio returned the proper response. ‘Is your father well?’
‘Well, indeed, my Lord.’ A louder, more savage growl issued from the depths of the cargo crate; Jiro gave the haughty suggestion of a smile. Careful of his timing, he drew breath to continue the tiresome, formal ritual of greeting.
But Desio’s patience deserted him. Afire to ask after the beast in the crate, he blurted, ‘I am happy to say all of my family is well.’
Released from protocols, Jiro glanced smugly at Incomo, who radiated intense annoyance, but who at this moment was powerless to intervene. ‘Thank you,’ murmured the Anasati son. ‘My Lord Desio is kind to welcome an unexpected visitor. I apologize for my rudeness, but I chanced to be in your area and I felt it would be useful for us to speak.’
Something clawed at the crate slats, and the slaves on the barge shifted nervously. Desio twitched from foot to foot: the moment had come to invite his guest inside for refreshments, or turn him away at once. The irritation of honouring an enemy’s son was balanced by fascination.
While Desio dithered, Jiro seized the initiative. ‘Please, Lord, I had not intended to presume upon your hospitality. I have live creatures on board that dislike the motion of the barge. It is well for me, and best for them, if we may speak here.’
Perspiration made Desio’s face itch. If Jiro could do without a cool drink, the Lord of the Minwanabi preferred not to. He waved magnanimously to his guest and the entire Anasati honour guard. ‘Come in and sit where we need not hasten our talk.’ As his visitor darted a concerned glance at the crate, Desio added, ‘I’ll have servants move your beasts into the shade so they will not suffer.’
Jiro hesitated. Indelicately caught between refusing the kindness of a superior, or acknowledging fear of an enemy’s hospitality, an implied shame, he fingered his shell and lacquer belt. ‘My Lord is generous, but the beasts I transport are too vicious to be left in strange hands. I would not risk an injury to any of the servants in your household.’
A strange, deep light touched Desio’s eyes. ‘Then bring the beasts along; they sound interesting.’
Jiro bowed. To the servant who lingered on the barge, he ordered, ‘Leash the hounds and bring them. And as you value your honour, make sure no hapless Minwanabi servant stands too close and takes harm.’
The servant paled at the comment, Desio saw. His own palms grew moist in excitement. As Irrilandi formed the Minwanabi honour guard into ranks for the march indoors, he could not resist a look back. On the barge, the white-faced servant donned a heavy pair of gloves. He then gathered two thick braided leashes and signalled the slaves, who hesitantly dragged the cover off the cage. A strident bark and more growls answered the unveiling and the slaves jumped back in fright. Then the servant raised a bone whistle to his lips. He blasted a single note, and two muzzles poked through the opening, followed by wide-set slanting eyes, and ears trimmed short into points. Two dogs of ferocious aspect braced long forepaws on the cage; the slaves cowered back, and every warrior in the Anasati honour guard surreptitiously touched his weapon.
‘Magnificent,’ Desio breathed, as the servant stepped in and looped the leashes through two jewel-studded collars. The dogs flowed out of their prison with sinuous grace. Massive of shoulder and jaw, and brindled in light tan and black, the creatures sprang over to the dock, then sat as regally as if they owned it.
‘My Lord would be wise to stand back,’ murmured Jiro.
Desio did so, too rapt to notice that an enemy had told him what to do. ‘Magnificent,’ he repeated, and he stared at amber eyes that were passionless in their canine ferocity as Tasaio’s out on the archery field. Then, annoyed by the reminder of the cousin who had failed him, and made aware by Incomo’s quiet hiss that he stood gawking like a farmer, Desio motioned for his honour guard and adviser to follow, and strode off toward the entrance to the great hall.