Nacoya’s hand tightened inside her mistress’s. ‘Daughter, as much as he hates you for choosing his brother over him, he is not obsessed as Tasaio is. With the welfare of the Anasati placed upon his shoulders, responsibility might bend him to reason.’
From the doorway behind Keyoke, Kevin’s voice unexpectedly interrupted. ‘Never underestimate the human capacity for stupid, illogical, and petty behaviour.’
Nacoya gave the Midkemian an irritated glare from her pillows. Annoyed as she was that Keyoke should see her dishevelled and sick, the presence of a young man was that much worse. And yet she could not show anger. Despite the slave’s odd behaviour and disregard for Tsurani custom, despite his inconvenient but genuine love for Mara, Kevin had a nimble mind.
Reluctantly Nacoya admitted, ‘Your . . . slave gives good counsel, daughter. We must assume that Jiro will remain intractable until he proves otherwise. The Anasati have been our enemies too long, for all that they have been honourable. We must proceed cautiously.’
Mara said, ‘What shall I do?’
‘Send a letter of condolence,’ Kevin offered helpfully.
The suggestion brought blank looks from Mara and her two advisers.
‘A letter of condolence,’ Kevin repeated, then belatedly realized there was no Tsurani equivalent. ‘It’s the custom in my homeland to send a message telling someone you share their loss and wish them well.’
‘An odd custom,’ Keyoke allowed, ‘yet it has some sense of honour about it.’
Nacoya’s eyes brightened. She looked long and shrewdly at Kevin, then mustered a congested breath and spoke. ‘Such a letter would provide an opening for communications without conceding anything. Most clever.’
‘Well, one could look at things that way,’ said Kevin, bemused to find the concept of compassion mistaken by the Tsurani mind for another machination of the game.
The idea won Mara’s approval. ‘I shall draw up a letter without delay.’
Yet she made no move to rise. She held Nacoya’s hand, and her fingers tightened as if reluctant to let go. For an interval she stared at the weave in the counterpane, as if avoiding the old woman’s face.
Nacoya said, ‘There is something else?’
Mara glanced uneasily about the room.
The First Adviser’s instincts as a children’s nurse had never left her; faintly disparaging, she said, it has been years since you played the part of bashful maiden, daughter. Speak your mind and be done.’
Mara fought the burn of sudden tears. The subject she most urgently needed to broach stole her poise. ‘We must seek a . . . bright. . . servant to . . . begin . . . to . . .’
The old nurse fixed her former charge with a withering look. ‘You mean I must begin training a replacement.’
Mara all but protested outright. Nacoya had stood in place of the mother she had never known; to imagine a time without her seemed impossibly bleak and unreal. Although the subject had been lightly discussed, she had put off decision and action. Yet the mantle of rulership forced the cold truth that now she must.
Only Nacoya could handle the subject with equanimity, ‘I am old, daughter of my heart. I feel chill in my bones on warm days, and my duties begin to weigh on weak flesh. Do not let my dying come on me without the surety that you have sound guidance by your side.’
‘The Red God won’t hurry to take you,’ said Kevin with a grin. ‘You’re too mean yet.’
‘Don’t blaspheme,’ Nacoya snapped, but her wrinkled lips twitched and she buried a smile behind a cough. Try as she might to dislike this barbarian, he was handsome enough to forgive much; and his loyalty to Mara was unquestioned.
Mara said, ‘Keyoke could -‘
But the hard-bitten former warrior interrupted with a gentleness his soldiers never knew, ‘I am almost as old as Nacoya, Mara.’ Her name was spoken with an affection that showed no disrespect, ‘I served your father gladly and have given the Acoma both my sword and my leg. You have given my life a purpose far beyond my hopes as a young man. But I will not see you foster a weakness.’ His voice turned stern. ‘I refuse the honour of Nacoya’s mantle. You must have a strong, clever mind, and young blood at your side to advise you in the years after we are gone.’
Mara’s grip on Nacoya’s hand did not loosen, and her shoulders stayed stiff. Kevin drew breath to intervene, but a quiet touch from Keyoke restrained him.
The old warrior said, ‘When a Force Commander trains his young officers, he is a fool if he coddles them or shows softness. Lady,’ Keyoke appealed plainly, ‘the exigencies of an advisership require more than blind obedience: understanding of what is necessary for the good of the house, as well as the will to play the Great Game. I have had no time for children. Would you deprive me, or Nacoya, of the chance to train our successor? Such a one would become the joy to enrich my late years, even as the son I never had.’
‘Or the daughter?’ Mara said playfully, though her voice shook.