Mistress of the Empire. Janny Wurts
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Название: Mistress of the Empire

Автор: Janny Wurts

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Зарубежное фэнтези

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isbn: 9780007375653

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СКАЧАТЬ paused between restless steps, one hand on the screen that overlooked her private garden. Oh, for one hour with old Nacoya and her wisdom, she wished in vain. Her onetime nurse, foster mother, and First Adviser had always offered insight straight to the heart of any difficulty. Even when Mara had refused advice or persisted in taking risks unacceptable to the old woman, Nacoya had always seen clear and true. In matters of the heart, her perception had been unmatched. Mara sighed. It had been Nacoya who had noticed her mistress’s growing affection for the barbarian slave Kevin, long before Mara admitted the possibility of love to herself. The old woman’s counsel was sorely needed now. Mara attempted to conjure Nacoya’s voice, but the beloved woman’s shade rested far away this day.

      A kick inside her belly ended her reverie. She gasped, pressed a hand to her swollen middle, and met the discomfort with a smile. Her unborn child had the strength of a barbarian tiger cub. Surely Hokanu would feel differently when he beheld his newborn first child. The pride of fatherhood would soften him, and he would cease his stubbornness and give in to her demand that Justin be named Acoma heir. The flesh that was of his own blood would make him understand that this was the gods’ will, that this babe whose begetting they had shared was the proper heir to the title Lord of the Shinzawai.

      Mara leaned against the lintel of the screen, anticipating the happiness of the occasion. She had borne two children, one by a man she loathed and another by a man she adored. Both little ones had given her something completely unexpected; what had begun as a duty of honor in the begetting of Ayaki, the necessity of ensuring Acoma continuance, had been transformed to a joyous reality as she came to love the heir for whom she labored. It was her offspring that would inherit the greatness of the Acoma. Once a child was held, his baby laughter giving her delight, never again could family honor seem a distant, abstract thing.

      Mara keenly awaited the moment when Hokanu would feel this magic for himself. The birth of their son would bring them closer, and end this cold contention of wills. Peace would return between them, and both Acoma and Shinzawai children would grow into the greatness of their future.

      While Mara had never been consumed by passion for the man she cherished as husband, she had come to rely on his closeness. His understanding was a comfort, his wisdom a shelter, his wit a relief from danger and worry, and his quiet, intuitive understanding a tenderness she could not live without. She missed him. His love had become the linchpin of her happiness, all unnoticed until she had been forced to go without. For while he was ever close by, he was increasingly absent in spirit. More deeply than she could have imagined, that lack caused her pain.

      The reminders were unceasing; the casual touch of his hand to her face that had not happened as she wakened; the slight upturning of his mouth that indicated humor during court that today had been nowhere in evidence. They no longer shared their afternoon tray of chocha, while Hokanu scanned reports from military advisers and she reviewed the commerce lists from far-flung trading factors presented daily by Jican. Their relationship had grown silent and strained and though Hokanu had made no issue of the matter, he had extended his practice at arms to keep busy through the hours they had once spent in companionship. No sharp words were exchanged, nor anything close to heated argument, yet the disagreement over Justin’s heirship was a presence that poisoned everything they did. Mara stroked the taut flesh over her womb, praying this estrangement would end once their new son was born.

      Besides Nacoya, Hokanu was the only soul she had met who could follow her thoughts without misunderstandings. Another kick slammed her innards. Mara laughed. ‘Soon, little one,’ she whispered to the baby.

      A servant who waited in attendence started at the sound of her voice. ‘Mistress?’

      Mara stepped heavily away from the screen. ‘I want for nothing but this child, who seems as anxious as I am to see himself born.’

      The servant tensed in alarm. ‘Should I call for –’

      Mara held up her hand. ‘No, there is time yet. The midwife and the healer say another month at least.’ She furrowed her brow. ‘But I wonder if perhaps this baby could be early.’

      A polite knock sounded at the inner doorway. Mara pulled her robe more comfortably over her gravid body, and nodded for the servant to open the screen to the hall. Jican, her hadonra, bowed from outside the portal. ‘Mistress, a trader is here seeking permission to bargain.’

      That Jican would trouble her for a matter he would normally attend to himself, was unusual. He had managed her vast holdings long enough that he could anticipate almost any decision she might make, even those he disagreed with. Anxious to know what had arisen, Mara said, ‘What do you wish?’

      Always diffident in situations outside of the ordinary, Jican replied carefully, ‘I think you should see this man’s wares, mistress.’

      Glad for the diversion on yet another afternoon without Hokanu’s company, Mara clapped for her maid to bring her a robe more suitable for a stranger’s company. Tucked into a long-sleeved, loose-waisted garment of shimmering silk, she motioned for her hadonra to lead the way. The guest trader waited in the shaded, pillared hall in the wing that housed the scribes. Mara and Jican passed through the cavernous corridors that tunneled partially through the hillside from the sunny quarters she shared with Hokanu. Made aware by Jican’s quick step that he was fidgety, Mara asked, ‘Are the wares this trader offers something special?’

      ‘Perhaps.’ The little hadonra gave a sideways glance that confirmed his uneasiness. ‘I think your judgment is needed to appraise this man’s offer.’

      Years of his loyal service had taught Mara to heed her hadonra’s hunches. When he did not immediately launch into a description of the offered goods, the Lady was moved to prompt, ‘What else?’

      Jican halted. ‘I …’ Uncertainty blossomed into hesitation. He bobbed an apologetic bow, then blurted, ‘I am not sure how to treat this man, mistress.’

      Familiar enough with the hadonra’s foibles to realise that questions would distress him further, Mara simply strode on in receptive silence.

      In another few steps, the explanation was forthcoming. Jican said, ‘Because he is … was Tsurani.’

      Mara pondered this detail. ‘From LaMut?’ LaMut was ruled by Hokanu’s brother, and most trading delegations from the Kingdom included a former Tsurani soldier, to act as translator. Jican nodded, transparently relieved he had not needed to coach her further. ‘A Tsurani who prefers Kingdom ways.’

      The reason for the hadonra’s uneasiness was plainer: while Mara might bend tradition and swear masterless men to Acoma service, the concept of anyone preferring to remain without house ties on a foreign world – no matter that one of them was Hokanu’s brother, Kasumi – was too alien to understand, even for her. And that such a man headed the trading delegation made negotiations more delicate than usual.

      The long, interior corridor opened at last into a colonnaded portico that fronted the south side of the estate house. The gravel path leading to the main doorway ran alongside, and there, shaded by ancient trees, waited the visiting merchant’s retinue, a small group of bearers and ten bodyguards. Mara’s eyes widened. She did not note at first that there were more guards than usual because they were so tall! More careful study revealed them to be Midkemians all, a rare enough detail that the sentries on duty at the estate entrance stared surreptitiously as they kept watch. Scraps of a conversation in foreign speech reached Mara’s ears, and the accent, so familiar, made her pause a fraction between steps. Memories of Kevin of Zun flooded through her, until Jican’s hand-wringing impatience recalled her to present obligations. Mastering herself instantly, she hastened on into the service wing, toward the hall where the merchant awaited.

      That СКАЧАТЬ