She resumed her instruction to the servant, and to the runner slave recently arrived.
Bent at Keyoke’s side, counting the pulse on one dry, heated wrist, the healer turned his eyes heavenward and prayed to Chochocan and Hantukama for a miracle. Keyoke was weakening, and not a remedy in his satchel could stay the spirit from Turakamu’s call. The healer went on to examine the whites of Keyoke’s eyes, and then to check his bandages; of the two, his gods and his mistress, this moment he feared the wrath of the Lady the more.
Preparation for the war in Dustari overturned the quiet routine on the Acoma estate. In the crafts compound, the constant hiss of the sharpener’s wheel sang in rhythm with the calls of slaves and apprentices directing the unloading of supplies, and the thick, pitchy odour of the resin pots overlaid the akasi blossoms’ sweeter tang. The smell lingered in the air, invading even Mara’s quarters, where, at dawn, she stood by the screen looking out.
‘Come back to bed,’ Kevin murmured, his eyes admiring her slender, nude silhouette. ‘If you’re determined to worry, you’ll do a better job of it if you’re relaxed and rested.’
Mara did not answer but continued to stare through the mists and the moving shadows of the herd boys hurrying to tend the needra in the meadows. She did not see the slaves, though, or the soft beauty of the lands she had inherited from her forefathers. She only saw a thousand Minwanabi soldiers crossing her borders bent on conquest.
Keyoke must stay alive to manage while she was away, Mara thought. As if her lover had not spoken, she began a ritual prayer pattern invoking Lashima’s protection upon the life of her Adviser for War, who lay in a coma on his cushions, with the Red God poised for final conquest.
Kevin sighed and uncurled like a hunting cat from the pillows his Lady had vacated. Plainly this was not to be a morning for talk and lovemaking. They had done enough of that last night, anyway, the Midkemian reflected, running his fingers through his hair. Mara had come to him tense, almost to the point of anger, and their interaction had held little tenderness. Though usually content to be stroked into passion, Mara had hurled herself upon him as if frenzied with lust. Her hands came as close as they ever had to scratching, though violence of any sort in the bedchamber abhorred her. And when she found her release in a convulsive burst of emotion, she had sobbed stormily into his shoulder and soaked her hair with her tears.
Not being Tsurani, Kevin had not been repulsed by her break in composure. Sensitive that this woman needed comfort, he had simply held her and stroked her until she fell into exhausted sleep.
Now, watching her stand, sword-straight and slim as a girl in the frame of the opened screen, he saw that she had recovered her resilience; she was very strong. But upon her shoulders rested the well-being of all who made their livelihood on her far-flung holdings, from respected factors and advisers to the lowliest of her kitchen scullions. Fear for her young son haunted her, waking and sleeping, and Kevin wondered how long she could last before she broke under the strain.
He arose, tossed a robe over his shoulders — even after three years, he could never quite feel comfortable with the Tsurani disregard for modesty — and joined Mara by the screen. He slipped an arm over her shoulders, surprised to find her rigid and shivering.
‘Mara,’ he said gently, and opened his robe and wrapped one side of it around her, bundling her against his warmth.
‘I’m worried about Keyoke,’ she admitted, snuggling against him. ‘You’ve been a great comfort.’ She rested her head against his forearm and tickled a playful hand down his groin.
Kevin considered sweeping her up and carrying her back to the bed; but once again her thoughts carried her away from him, and after a moment she pulled clear of his embrace and clapped her hands sharply.
Servants invaded the chamber, clearing away sleeping mat and cushions, and hustling to assemble Mara’s wardrobe. Kevin retired to a screened-off corner to dress. When he emerged, he was surprised to see a breakfast tray laid with fruit, chocha, and bread, but untouched; and although a staff of three remained standing by to serve, Mara was no longer in the room.
‘Where is the Lady?’ Kevin inquired.