Arakasi’s voice snapped her out of reflection. ‘To all appearance, Tecuma is in no danger—but the illness lingers, and he is an old man. Much of his former vigour was lost with the death of his eldest son, Halesko, during the betrayal upon Midkemia. With Jiro now heir . . . I think the Lord of Anasati grows tired of the Game of the Council and, perhaps, of life.’
Mara sighed, feeling oppression in the deepening shadows. The rest of Arakasi’s information consisted of intriguing minor details, a few of which were going to interest Jican. But worry undermined the interplay of wits she usually enjoyed with her Spy Master, and she excused him without speculation at the conclusion of his report. Alone in her study, she called for her writing desk and penned a note to wish Tecuma a swift recovery. She picked up her chop, inked it, and pressed it into the parchment, then had her runner summon a messenger to deliver the note to the Anasati.
By now the sun hung low over the meadows. The heat had lessened, and Mara walked alone in her garden awhile, listening to the play of water over the rocks and the rustle of birds in the trees. The round of the game that had brought the new Warlord to-power had been extremely bitter and bloody. New strategies would have to be evolved and new plans made, for while winners and losers alike were retiring to their estates to reassess, the plotting would go unabated.
Tasaio was far more dangerous than Desio, but fate had given him a more perilous situation than his predecessor. His defeat in Tsubar had left his resources lessened, and he had gained an unpredictable – and potentially lethal – rival in the new Warlord. Tasaio would be forced to move cautiously for the time being, lest he overextend himself and find enemies exploiting his vulnerabilities.
Many of the old guard had died, and new forces were emerging. Despite its questionable role in the debacle at the peace treaty with the Midkemian King, the Blue Wheel Party — especially the Kanazawai Clan members, and most especially the Shinzawai – had emerged surprisingly unscathed. They still held the regard of the Emperor and were actually gaining influence.
Mara weighed possibilities in her mind as to the next likely turn of politics. A squeal of laughter and a shout from inside the house told her that Kevin and Ayaki had come back from their outing. Game birds had returned to the northern lakes for the hot season, and Kevin had agreed to take the boy hunting, to try his growing skills with the bow. Mara had faint hopes for any success, given the boy’s youth.
But against her best expectations, her son and his companion burst into the garden bearing a fine brace of waterfowl. Ayaki cried out, ‘Mother! See! I shot them!’
Kevin grinned down upon the small hunter, and Mara felt a surge of love and pride. Her barbarian had not recovered entirely from the black moods that had begun with the news of the aborted peace treaty. Despite his silence on the subject, Mara knew that Kevin’s slavery rankled with him, no matter how deep his regard for herself and Ayaki.
But worries could not intrude to ruin the excitement of her son’s first manly accomplishment. Mara made a display of being impressed. ‘You shot them?’
Kevin smiled. ‘Indeed he did. The boy is a natural bowman. He killed both of these. . . whatever you call these blue geese.’
Ayaki wrinkled his nose. ‘Not geese. That’s a dumb word. I told you. They are jojana.’ He laughed, for this naming of things had become an ongoing joke between them.
Abruptly Mara was chilled by a shadow from the past. Ayaki’s father had been a demon with a bow. A hint of bitterness tinged her words as she said, ‘Ayaki comes to this gift honestly.’
Kevin’s expression clouded over, for Mara rarely spoke of Buntokapi, the Anasati son she had married as a move in the Great Game.
The Midkemian sought at once to distract her. ‘Have we time for a walk near the meadow? The calves are now old enough to play, and Ayaki and I made a bet that he can’t outrun them.’
Mara considered only a moment. ‘There is nothing I would wish for more – to spend some time with you both, watching the calves play.’
Ayaki held his bow overhead and shouted enthusiastic approval as Mara clapped for a maid to bring her walking slippers. ‘Off you go,’ she said to her ecstatically happy son. ‘Take your jojana to the cook, and we shall see if two legs are faster than six.’
As the boy pounded off down the path, the brace of birds flapping awkwardly around his knees, Kevin gathered Mara close and kissed her. ‘You look distracted.’
Irked that he should find her so transparent, Mara said, ‘Ayaki’s grandfather is ill. I’m worried.’
Kevin stroked back a stray lock of hair. ‘Is it serious?’
‘It doesn’t seem to be.’ Yet Mara’s frown lingered.
Kevin felt an inward pang, for concern for her son’s safety overlaid a quagmire of issues they would rather leave unbroached. One day, he knew, she must marry, but that time was not now. ‘Put worry aside for today,’ he said gently. ‘You deserve a few hours for yourself, and your boy won’t stay carefree much longer if his mother can’t spare him time to play.’
Mara returned a wry smile. ‘I’d better work up an appetite,’ she confessed. ‘Else a good deal of hard-won jojana meat will wind up feeding jigabirds as scraps.’