‘That is the least advantage, my Lord.’ Tasaio slipped his fingers out of his archer’s glove. He flexed his hands as though warming up his grip for the sword, and outlined the steps of a bold plot.
The Minwanabi would cultivate relations with the desert raiders, beginning with bribes to keep the Xacatecas forces pinned down in defence. Over a period of two years, the bribes would be escalated, forming the pretence of alliance. Minwanabi soldiers would add to the raiders’ ranks, disguised as tribesmen allies. At a moment judged most propitious, a grand offensive would be mounted on the Empire’s borders. In emergency meeting, the High Council would order the Lady of the Acoma to go to the aid of the Lord of the Xacatecas.
At mention of this, Incomo brightened. ‘Mara must lead her relief troops in person or spoil her overtures toward alliance. And if she sends less than her full support in the field, she proves lack of sincerity in her promises.’
‘She would be drawn far from her estates, along with most of her cho-ja,’ Desio cut in. ‘We could mount raids.’
Tasaio silenced him with a slightly raised eyebrow. ‘Better than that, cousin. Much better.’ He went on, ticking off points on his fingers in the manner of a tactician. Mara had no military training, and her only officer with command experience in the field was Keyoke. If her call to arms in Dustari could be timed as a surprise, she would be handed a crisis. She must strip her outer holdings, hire mercenary guards to flesh out those garrisons of least strategic importance, and then leave the heart of her estates under the care of an officer only recently promoted. Or she must assign Keyoke to protect her family natami, and expose herself to risk. Tasaio elaborated. ‘Isolated in Dustari, far from help from her clan or allies, there would be no miracles for Mara. She would be alone on a field of our choosing, and forced to rely on the guidance of an inexperienced officer.’ Tasaio paused, licked his lips, and smiled. ‘At best, Mara’s lack of preparaton will do our work for us. She may be killed, or captured by desert raiders, or, at the least, blunder in the assignment and earn the Xacatecas’ wrath, while losing the heart of her army.’
‘Interesting,’ said Income ‘But the weak link is evident. The assignment left to Keyoke will almost certainly not be bungled.’
Tasaio slapped his empty glove against his palm, and his smile widened. ‘That is why Keyoke must be removed. A raid that will deliver him to Turakamu must be carefully planned. Let us say the Lady will receive summons from the High Council on the day of her Force Commander’s death.’ Tasaio folded his hands, the model of a Tsurani warrior in repose. ‘With Keyoke dead, Mara must leave Acoma welfare in the hands of lesser servants, a Strike Leader named Lujan, most likely, a flutterbug of a hadonra, and an old nurse who calls herself First Adviser. Among these may be one we can subvert.’
‘Brilliant!’ muttered Desio.
Tasaio summed up. ‘As I read the situation, without experienced officers, Mara could never gain from assignment to Dustari. Whichever Strike Leader she promotes to oversee the attempt at relieving Xacatecas will quickly learn the difference between commanding a strike force and planning a battle.’
‘Brilliant,’ Desio said, loudly and with shining enthusiasm.
Incomo considered more practical ramifications. ‘Lord Desio would need to call favours from a great number of allies in the council – even become indebted – to contrive for Mara to be assigned to a post in Dustari. Getting Xacatecas there was quite costly, and keeping him on the frontier another two years will be difficult. The nobles who supported us will demand even more concessions to be bought a second time, particularly since the setback of Jingu’s death. We are not as strong or as influential as we once were, I regret to remind you, and the debt incurred will be great.’
‘What price the death of Mara of the Acoma?’ Tasaio said softly. ‘Desio swore blood oath to the Red God. The alternative is for us to slaughter every woman and child wearing Minwanabi black and orange, then march to Turakamu’s temple and fall upon our swords.’
Incomo nodded and turned shrewd eyes on his Lord.
Hot as Desio was to see Mara compromised, he still recognized the gravity of his decision. He did not commit himself or the resources of his house thoughtlessly, but pondered with knitted brows. ‘I think my cousin advises me well,’ he said at last. ‘But can we be sure of the desert men?’
Tasaio looked out of the window, as if something in the distance shaped his answer. ‘It’s immaterial. For among those “allies” attacking will be a field commander ready to take the necessary steps to ensure Mara’s failure. I will supervise the battle personally.’