Ayaki howled denial, claiming he’d swat any cho-ja before they -could squish him, then howled again as the barbarian slave tossed him and restored him upright into the arms of his disapproving nurse. The retinue had reached the estate house. The bearers squatted to lower Mara’s litter, and the soldiers who accompanied her on even the most innocuous errands stood smartly at attention. Lujan appeared on station to help the Lady to her feet, while Jican offered a deep bow by the doorway. ‘Arakasi awaits with Keyoke in your study, my Lady.’
Mara nodded abstractedly, mostly because Ayaki’s retreating noise still foiled conversation. She tipped her head at the bearer who carried new silk samples and said, ‘Follow.’ Then she paused, considering. After a moment she glanced to Kevin. ‘You too.’
The barbarian bit back an impulse to ask what the topic of conversation would be. Since his assignment to the Lady’s personal retinue, he had met most of Mara’s advisers, but the Spy Master was an unknown. Always when he delivered his reports, Mara had sent her body servant off on some task that would occupy him elsewhere. Curious what could have made her change her mind, Kevin had acquired enough sense of Acoma politics to presume the reason would be significant, even threatening. The more he observed, the more he understood that behind the Lady’s poised assurance lay fears that would have crumbled a lesser spirit. And despite his anger at being treated as little more than a talking pet, he had grudgingly come to admire her steely toughness. Regardless of age or sex, Mara was a remarkable woman, an opponent to be feared and a leader to be obeyed.
Kevin stepped into the dim hallway, following the Lady. Unobtrusively Lujan accompanied, a proper full step ahead of the slave. The Strike Leader would stand guard at the study door throughout the meeting, not only to protect his mistress, but to ascertain no servant lingered in the corridor to eavesdrop. Even though Arakasi had exhaustively scrutinized every domestic who worked in the estate house, he still urged Mara to take precautions. Seemingly loyal servants had been known to sink to dishonour and succumb to bribes, and a ruler who was slack in security habits invited betrayal. Warriors sworn to service and ranking advisers could be trusted, but those who picked fruit in the orchards and tended flowers in the garden could serve any master.
The screens were drawn in the study, making the air more damp and close. The Force Commander’s plumed helm showed as a shadow in the dimness; Keyoke sat with the patience of a weathered carving on the cushions before the shut screen. His scabbarded weapon rested across his knees, sure sign that he had spent the interval while he waited for his mistress inspecting the blade for flaws that only his eyes could discern — if not cared for, Tsurani blades of cured hide could delaminate, leaving a warrior disarmed.
Mara nodded curt greeting, shed her outer robe, and loosened her sash. Kevin tried not to stare as she tugged the thin silk of her lounging robe from her sticky skin. Despite his care, his groin swelled in response to the sight of her bare breasts. In surreptitious embarrassment he hitched at the inadequate hem of his slave livery to hide the result. As often as he reminded himself that concepts of modesty differed here from those of his native Midkemia, he could not become accustomed to the casual near nudity adopted by the Kelewanese women as a consequence of the climate. So involved was he in trying to curb the involuntary response of his body that he barely noted Mara’s words as she waved away her maidservant and sat.
‘What do you have to report?’
Keyoke inclined his head. ‘There has been a raid, a very minor one, launched by the Minwanabi against a thyza caravan.’
Mara pushed back a loosened strand of hair, quiet a moment before she said, ‘Then the attack came as Arakasi’s agent predicted?’
Again Keyoke inclined his head. ‘Even the numbers of the soldiers were accurate. Mistress, I don’t like the smell of the event. It appears to have no strategic relevance at all.’
‘And how you hate loose ends,’ Mara concluded for him. ‘I presume the Minwanabi soldiers were routed?’
‘Killed, to a man,’ Keyoke amended. His dry tone reflected little satisfaction at the victory. ‘One company less to harry our borders, if Desio chooses a war. But it’s the ineptness of the attack that troubles me. The warriors died like men sworn to honourable suicide, not those bent on taking an objective.’
Mara bit her lip, her expression darkening. ‘What do you think?’ she said into the shadows.
Something moved there in response, and Kevin started slightly. He looked more closely and made out the slender form seated motionless, with folded hands. The fellow’s uncanny stillness had caused Kevin to overlook him until now. His voice was dry as a whisper, yet somehow conveyed the emphasis of a loud expostulation. ‘Lady, I can offer you little insight. As yet I have no agent who is privy to Desio’s private councils. He discusses his intentions only with his First Adviser, Incomo, and his cousin Tasaio. The First Adviser is, of course, not given to gossip or drink, and Tasaio confides in no one, even the warrior who was his childhood mentor. Given the circumstances, we do well to know that the agents we have are reporting accurately.’