Servant of the Empire. Janny Wurts

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СКАЧАТЬ would if we failed to attack.’ Tasaio’s eyelids hooded slightly. ‘But we will attack, and be defeated.’

      Angered, Desio punched his pillows. ‘Defeated? And lose more position in the council?’

      Tasaio raised his hand, thumb and forefinger poised a scant inch apart. ‘Only a little defeat, cousin. Enough to provide proof that we are compromised. I have plans for that spy, when we find him … with your permission, of course, my Lord.’

      The moment was smoothly handled, Incomo observed with hidden admiration. Without coming to grips with Desio directly, Tasaio had let slip the assumption that the young Lord would receive his due credit; the other side of the issue being that permission, of course, would be granted.

      Desio swallowed the bait, but missed the larger implications. ‘When we catch this traitor, I will see him tortured in the name of the Red God until his flesh is twitching pulp!’ His plump fist pummelled cushions for emphasis, and his nose deepened from pink to purple.

      But as if he handled irate nobility on a daily basis, Tasaio showed no alarm. ‘That would be gratifying, cousin,’ he agreed. ‘Yet, to kill that spy, however horribly, would offer the Acoma a victory.’

      ‘What!’ Desio stopped thumping and shot erect. ‘Cousin, you make my head ache. What could the Minwanabi gain but insult by keeping a miserable spy alive?’

      Tasaio settled back on one elbow and casually plucked a fruit from a bowl on a side table. As though its ripe skin were flesh, he stroked his nail down the curve in what seemed almost a caress. ‘We need this spy’s contacts, honoured Lord. It serves our cause to ensure that our Acoma enemies learn only what we wish them to know.’ The warrior’s hands gripped the fruit and gave a vicious twist. The jomach split in half, with barely a splash of red juice. ‘Let the spy set up our next trap.’

      Incomo considered, then smiled. Desio looked from his cousin to his First Adviser, and managed not to fumble the catch as his cousin tossed him one piece of the fruit. He bit into the morsel, and then began to laugh, for the first time restored to the arrogant certainty of his family’s greatness. ‘Good,’ he said, chewing with relish. ‘I like your plan, cousin. We shall dispatch a company of men on some useless raid and let the Acoma bitch think she has routed us.’

      Tasaio tapped the remaining bit of fruit with his forefinger. ‘But where? Where shall we attack?’

      Incomo pondered, then offered, ‘My Lord, I suggest that the raid should be close to her home.’

      ‘Why?’ Desio wiped juice off his chin with his embroidered cuff. ‘She will be guarding her estate rigorously, as usual.’

      ‘Not the estate, itself, Lord, for the Lady needs no spy’s report to maintain vigilance against attack from your army. But she will not expect a raid against a caravan bound for the river port at Sulan-Qu. If we attack between the Acoma lands and the city, and she is prepared for our raid, we can pinpoint the flow of information and find the agent among your household.’

      Tasaio inclined his head in an unconscious gesture of command. ‘First Adviser, your counsel is excellent. My Lord, if you will permit, I will oversee preparations for such a raid. A routine trade shipment would warrant little protection, unless the Acoma bitch knows she deals with blood enemies.’ He smiled, and white teeth gleamed against skin tanned dark on the Warlord’s campaign. ‘We should know when such a caravan is due, simply by contacting shipping brokers in Sulan-Qu. A few discreet questions, and maybe a bribe or two to hide our inquiries, and we should know within the hour when Mara’s next caravan is expected.’

      Desio met Tasaio’s offer with a lordly air of industry. ‘Cousin, your advice is brilliant.’ He clapped his hands, bringing the errand runner in from his position outside the door. ‘Fetch my scribe,’ he commanded.

      As the slave departed, Tasaio’s composure became that of a man sorely tried. ‘Cousin,’ he assayed, ‘you must not write down the orders that we have discussed this hour!’

      ‘Hah!’ Desio released a second snicker, then a full-throated laugh. He leaned from his dais and fetched his cousin a resounding blow on the shoulder. ‘Hah!’ he snorted again. ‘You must not mock my intelligence, Tasaio. Of course I know better than to include even servants and slaves in our plot! No, I simply thought to pen a notice to the Warlord, begging his forbearance for your absence from his campaign upon the barbarian world. He will acquiesce, as the Minwanabi are still his most valued ally. And, cousin, you have just shown me how much more you are needed here.’

      Incomo watched Tasaio’s reaction to his Lord’s praise. He had not missed the battle-trained reflex that had seen the friendly blow coming, nor had he failed to note the calculated and split-second decision that allowed the stroke to connect. Tasaio had grown skilled at politics as well as at killing.

      With cold curiosity, the Minwanabi First Adviser wondered how long his master would be amenable to the counsel of one so obviously gifted with the qualities Desio lacked, but who could not be spared in restoring the Minwanabi to their former greatness. Desio would know that his cousin’s cleverness showed him up for a fool; eventually he would become jealous, would wish more than the puppet title of Lord. Incomo noticed that his headache was back in force. He could only hope that Desio would wait to turn upon his cousin until after the Acoma bitch and her heir were pulp under the post of the Red God’s grand prayer gate. Best not to underestimate how long that feat might take. Such vanity on a lesser scale had cost Jingu of the Minwanabi his life; and through that misfortune, Mara had received enough recognition to gain powerful allies.

      Apparently Tasaio’s mind turned to similar concerns, for after the message to the Warlord was penned, and while Desio occupied himself with ordering servants to bring him refreshments, the warrior cousin turned to Incomo with a seemingly casual question. ‘Does anyone know whether Mara has had a chance to make overtures to the Xacatecas? When I received my recall orders from the barbarian world, a friend among his officers mentioned that their Lord considered approaching her.’

      Here Tasaio revealed his cunning. No friendship might exist between officers who were enemies; by this, Incomo understood that the information had been gained by intrigue. With a grunt that passed for laughter, Incomo shared out his own latest gleanings.

      ‘The Lord of the Xacatecas is a man worthy of … if not fear, then deep respect. His position in the High Council, though, is not advantageous at the moment.’ With a flash of perfect teeth, he added, ‘Our most noble Warlord was somewhat put out with the Xacatecas’ reluctance to expand his interests in the conquest of the barbarian world. Some political byplay resulted, and when the dust settled, Lord Xacatecas wound up with military responsibility for our tiny province across the sea. Chipino of the Xacatecas languishes in Dustari at the moment, commanding the garrison that holds the only noteworthy pass through the mountains to Tsubar. The desert raiders are active, at last report, so I expect he has his hands full – let us hope too full to concern himself with advances toward the Acoma.’

      Finished with his servants, and left with nothing to do but anticipate his elaborate midafternoon feast, Desio picked up on the conversation. He waved one pudgy hand to restore proper attention to himself and said, ‘I advised my father on that plan, Tasaio.’

      The First Adviser refrained from pointing out that all Desio had done was sit in the room while Incomo and Jingu had discussed means to get Xacatecas occupied.

      ‘Well then,’ said Tasaio, ‘if Xacatecas is busy guarding our frontiers across the sea, we can focus our attention upon Lady Mara.’

      Desio nodded and leaned back СКАЧАТЬ