Ayaki’s scowl deepened. He rubbed his soiled mouth, made a sound through his lips, and said, ‘Yes, Mother. But when I am Ruling Lord, I shall keep my chin sticky if I please.’
Mara gave an exasperated glance toward heaven, then disentangled her sleeve from her son. It smelled of jomach and cho-ja-made candy. ‘Boy, if you do not worry first about the lessons of growing up, there will be no estate for you to manage.’
A servant appeared at the doorway. ‘Lady? Your litter awaits.’
Mara bent and kissed Ayaki, and came away with the taste of the candy. The mishap did not irritate her. All too soon she would be breathing and tasting the dust of the southern deserts, and home would be an ocean’s width away.
Although many times a haven in times of trouble, with its cool dimness the cho-ja hive for once brought no comfort. Mara knotted sweating fingers under the sleeves of her overrobe. An unfamiliar officer accompanied her where once Keyoke would have walked, half a pace to her rear, exchanging greetings and courtesies with the hive’s Force Commander, Lax’l. The warrior, Murnachi, had never fought with a company of cho-ja. Although he was honoured to be asked to accompany his mistress on this important mission to the Queen, his stiffness denoted his discomfort and desire to be returned to the open air as soon as possible.
Mara made her way through the tunnels leading to the Queen’s chamber, by now a familiar route. But this was no social visit, and instead of her customary small gift, the servant who followed her escort carried a slate that listed all of the Acoma cash assets.
She had not attempted to bargain with a cho-ja Queen since her negotiation for the hive that had settled permanently on her estates. Now that she had need, she had no clue as to how she would be received, particularly on the heels of the news that two thirds of the new silk shipment had been lost to Minwanabi attack. The sweat on Mara’s hands went from cold to hot. No past experience in her memory foretold how the Queen would react.
The corridor widened into the antechamber before the throne room; too late now to turn back, Mara reflected, as the cho-ja worker who escorted her small party rushed ahead to announce her presence. Mara continued on, into the warm vastness of the Queen’s cavern, lit day and night under the blue-violet light cast by cho-ja globes suspended from brackets set in the massive vaults of stone ceiling. Like an island surrounded by polished floor, a pile of cushions awaited her, with a low table bearing cups and a steaming pot of chocha. Yet Mara did not step forward to sit and take refreshment and exchange gossip, as was usual. Instead she performed the bow one ruler of equal rank might make before another to the enormous presence of the cho-ja Queen, who reared up in massive height, attended by a scurry of workers. Her midsection was surrounded by screens, behind which the breeders and rirari laboured continually over the eggs that ensured the continuity of the hive.
Well accustomed to such activity by now, Mara felt no need to stare. She straightened from her bow, alerted by the cant of the Queen’s head that the cho-ja ruler was aware something grave was afoot. Mara composed herself. ‘Ruling Lady of the hive, I regret to inform you that trouble has been visited upon the Acoma by its enemy, House Minwanabi.’ Here Mara paused, waiting out of courtesy for some sign from the Queen to continue.
Except for the bustle of the breeding attendants, which never ceased, there came no move within the chamber. Ranks of warriors and workers might march past in the corridor beyond the antechamber, but those who squatted on their forelimbs in the Queen’s presence remained as still as statues.
Given not the slightest wave of a forelimb in reassurance, Mara faced the hive’s Queen. The next sentences required all of her courage to speak.
‘Great Queen, the Emperor’s High Council requires a levy of four companies of warriors from the Acoma, to defend the Empire’s borders in Dustari. If the estate here is not to be left stripped of its protection I can muster only three human companies to be sent across the ocean. It is my hope, therefore, that you will consider a bargain, to breed an additional company of warriors to fulfil the High Council’s command.’
The Queen remained still. Breath held, Mara waited, fighting to keep her own poise. Out of the corner of her eye she noted her Strike Leader’s tension, and his cho-ja counterpart motionlessly squatting.
At last the Queen twitched a forelimb. ‘Who will be outfitting this company, Mara of Acoma?’
The Lady expelled a long-pent breath and tried not to shiver with the relief that her request had not been regarded as impertinence. ‘My treasury would bear the cost, noble Queen, if it please you to grant my request.’