Jiro stiffened. He recovered his bearing with admirable control and looked up; Mara had struck hard and to the heart. She had turned the memory of the brother who had died to further Acoma standing in the game back upon him, and also implied that Jiro wished to ‘console’ his brother’s widow in a manner more intimate than Tsurani custom found acceptable — and further, that he was nothing more than his father’s errand boy. It was the verbal equivalent of a slap to the face. The look the Anasati son turned upon her was icy and possessed a fathomless hatred.
Mara hid a shiver. By Nacoya’s white-lipped stillness, she was aware that she had made a mistake; she had also underestimated Jiro’s enmity. This boy despised her with a passion beyond his years. In his cold silence, Mara realized he would lurk like the poisonous relli of the swamps, biding his time until he saw his opening. He would not move against her until his trap was perfected and he was absolutely certain of his victory.
‘I will not repeat the rumours concerning my Lady’s preference in lovers since the loss of her noble husband,’ Jiro said with a diction so clear that, while not overloud, could be understood by even the door servants. To emphasize how demeaning the matter was, he raised his drink and sipped with a steady hand. ‘And, yes, I did leave off an important trade transaction in Sulan-Qu to stop here, by my father’s suggestion. He has heard of secret meetings between certain council members that he believes might indicate plots that pose danger to his grandson, Ayaki. As regent to the Acoma heir, you are being sent a warning.’
‘Your words are vague,’ Nacoya pointed out with the acerbity of an elder who has lived long enough to see many a youth succumb to folly. Using a tone well practised from her days as a servant in the nursery, she added, ‘Since neither the Anasati nor the Acoma stand to gain if Ayaki fails to inherit his Lordship, I suggest you be more specific’
Jiro inclined his head with the barest suggestion of malice. ‘My father is not privy to these plots, First Adviser, dearest Lady. His allies have not spoken directly to him, which he believes might be due to heavy bribes. But he has eyes and ears in strategic places that see and hear for him, and he wished you to know that factions who are partial to the Minwanabi have met more than once in secret. The Omechan were heard to compliment Lord Desio’s restraint in the face of Acoma affront, and while they are powerful, their dependence upon Minwanabi goodwill in the Alliance for War makes them chary of losing supporters at this time. More than the Omechan applaud Desio’s cold-blooded planning, and that approval works against your heir’s interests. In short, you have few allies voicing support in the High Council.’
Mara waved for a servant to carry away the refreshment tray, which Jiro had not touched. Although she regretted provoking Jican’s disappointment that the finest fruits in the kitchens should be spurned, she was too tense to indulge herself. She did not like the way Jiro’s eyes darted about, taking in every detail of the Acoma hall, servants, and guardsmen. His interest held the hunger of an officer in an enemy camp who gathered information in preparation for an assault. Never as straightforward as his elder brother, Halesco, Jiro thought in subtleties that were rooted in ambition. Mara strove to sort out how much of what he spoke was truth, and how much was exaggeration designed to scare her. ‘What you say is not exactly unknown to me, Jiro, at least in general. Surely your father need not have sent you from your important transaction to tell me these things,’ she ventured, testing. ‘A bonded messenger might have sufficed.’
Jiro returned a detached poise. ‘This is a family matter,’ he replied. ‘My father wished you to understand that the plot within the council is deeply disguised, and clever. He would not compromise his sources by trusting a hired runner. The sending of a bonded guildsman would remain on public record, and watching enemies would know. Desio has paid to have every guildbook in Sulan-Qu open for his inspection. A message from Anasati sources would be too obvious.’ Jiro inclined his head with the barest suggestion of irony. ‘But none would question an uncle who stops to visit a fatherless nephew.’
‘Not even one who interrupts an important transaction to pay social calls on a three-year-old?’ Nacoya interceded politely.
Jiro did not even blush, which required commendable control. ‘We are none of us in a position to trade accusations, as the First Adviser to my brother’s widow should remember. Besides, what harm if Desio thinks we share secrets? He can only imagine what they may be.’ His look at Mara was a disturbing mix of covetousness and hatred.