Daughter of the Empire. Janny Wurts

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СКАЧАТЬ soft touches and sweet words whispered in the dark will not beguile you.’

      Mara verged upon outright rage. ‘I command you: say no more!’

      Nacoya bit back her next words. The two women locked eyes and for a long, silent minute neither moved. At last the old nurse bowed her head until her forehead touched the mats upon which she knelt, a slave’s sign of supplication. ‘I am ashamed. I have given offence to my mistress.’

      ‘Go! Leave me!’

      The old woman rose, the rustle of her clothing and her stiff old back reflecting disapproval as she departed. Mara waved away the servant who appeared to inquire after her needs. Alone, surrounded by the mannered and beautifully calligraphed scrolls that honourably masked what actually constituted a cruel and deadly mesh of intrigue, Mara attempted to sort out the confusion created by Nacoya’s suggestion. She could put no name to the fear that rose up to engulf her.

      Holding herself, Mara sobbed silently. Bereft of her brother’s comfort, surrounded by conspiracy, threat, and the unseen presence of enemies, the Lady of the Acoma bent her head, while tears soaked the bandage on her hand, stinging the scabs underneath.

      A bell chimed faintly. Mara recognized the signal for the slaves to gather at their quarters for the evening meal. The workers who attended the akasi gardens rose and set aside their tools, while behind thin paper screens their mistress pushed aside her scrolls. She daubed at tearswollen eyes, and softly called for servants to open the study and let in the outdoor air.

      She rose then, feeling empty and wrung out; but the firm set had returned to her mouth. Thoughtfully biting her lip, the girl rested against the polished frame of the screen. Another solution besides marriage must exist. She pondered, but saw no answer, while the sun lowered, heavy and gold, in the western sky. Heat haze hung over the distant fields, and overhead the green-blue bowl of the sky was empty of birds. Akasi leaves pruned by the workers wilted upon the white stone walk, adding fragrance to the sleepy silence around the estate house. Mara yawned, worn out from grief and worry.

      Suddenly she heard shouts. Shocked alert, she straightened. Running figures sped along the road towards the guards’ barracks. Aware such disturbance must bode bad tidings, the girl turned from the screen, just as a serving girl rushed into the study.

      A warrior strode at her heels, dusty, sweating, and breathing hard from what amounted to a long run in battle armour. He bowed his head in respect. ‘Mistress, by your leave.’

      Mara felt a knot of cold tighten her stomach. Already it begins, she thought to herself. Yet her tearstained face showed poise as she said, ‘Speak.’

      The soldier slapped his fist over his heart in salute. ‘Mistress, the Force Commander sends word: outlaws have raided the herd.’

      ‘Send for my litter. Quickly!’

      ‘Your will, mistress.’ The maidservant who had preceded the soldier ducked through the doorway at a run.

      To the warrior, Mara said, ‘Assemble an escort.’

      The man bowed and departed. Mara unwrapped the light, short robe Tsurani noblewomen preferred to wear in the privacy of their homes. She tossed the garment into the waiting hands of one attendant, while another rushed forward with a travelling robe, longer and more modest in cut. Adding a light scarf to hide the unhealed marks on her neck, Mara stepped outside.

      Her litter bearers waited silently, stripped to loincloths and sweating in the heat. Four warriors waited with them, hastily fastening helmets and adjusting weapons at their belts. The soldier sent to inform Mara deferentially offered his hand and aided his mistress into the cushioned seat. Then he signalled bearers and escort. The litter swayed and jolted forward as the bearers complied with the need for haste and hurried towards the outer pastures.

      The journey ended far sooner than Mara expected, miles inside the borders of the estate. This was a discouraging sign, since bandits would never dare to raid the inner fields if the patrols had been up to strength. With a motion made brisk by outrage, the girl whisked aside gauze curtains. ‘What has passed here?’

      Keyoke turned away from two soldiers who were studying the ground for tracks that might indicate the numbers and strength of the renegades. If he noticed her tearstained face, his own leathery features showed no reaction. Imposing in his lacquer armour, his plumed helm dangling by its strap from his belt, he gestured towards a line of broken fencing, which slaves in loincloths laboured to repair. ‘Outlaws, my Lady. Ten, or perhaps a dozen. They killed a herd boy, smashed through the fence, and drove off some needra.’

      ‘How many?’ Mara gestured, and the Force Commander helped her from the litter. Grass felt strange under her sandals after temple confinement and months of echoing stone floors; also unexpected were the smells of rich earth and khala vines, which twined the fence rows. Mara pushed aside her momentary distraction and greeted Jican’s presence with a frown the image of her father’s when domestic affairs went amiss.

      Though the hadonra had had little contact with the former Lord of the Acoma, that look was legend. Sweating, fingers clenched nervously to his tally slate, he bowed. ‘Lady, at most you have lost three or four cows. I can report for certain when the strays are rounded up.’

      Mara raised her voice over the bawl of agitated animals as herders whistled, their long steering sticks and hide whips singing through the air as they drove their charges to a secure corral. ‘Strays?’

      Cross with Jican’s diffidence, Keyoke answered, his tone better suited to the battlefield on the barbarian world than the trampled earth of a needra meadow. ‘The beasts in this pasture were due for breeding. The smell of blood startled them into stampede, which alerted the herders.’ He paused, eyes raking the distant line of the woods.

      The tautness in his manner sharpened Mara’s concern. ‘What troubles you, Keyoke? Sure not the loss of a few cows, or one murdered slave?’

      ‘No, Lady.’ Eyes still on the woods, the old soldier shook his head. ‘I regret the ruin of good property, but no, the cows and the boy are the lesser problem.’ He paused while an overseer shouted; the team of slaves bent to raise a new post, while the Force Commander related the worst. ‘We have been vigilant since the Hamoi dog sought your life, mistress. These were no petty thieves. They struck, and departed, during daylight, which speaks of advance planning and a thorough knowledge of patrols.’

      Mara felt fear like a sliver of ice. Carefully steady, she said, ‘Spies?’ The Lord of the Anasati would not be above staging a false raid by ‘bandits’, if he wished to gauge the strength of the Acoma forces.

      Keyoke fingered his sword. ‘I think not, mistress.’ He qualified this with his usual almost uncanny perception. ‘Minwanabi is never so subtle, and the Anasati have no outposts far enough south to have organized an attack so swiftly. No, this seems the work of soldiers, masterless ones surely.’

      ‘Grey warriors?’ Mara’s frown deepened as she considered the rough, clanless men who often banded together in the mountains. With the Acoma so severely undermanned, such as these under the guidance of a shrewd commander might prove as menacing as any plot by enemies.

      Keyoke slapped dust from his cuffs and again regarded the hills, deepening now under shadow of dusk. ‘With my Lady’s permission, I would send out scouts. If grey warriors were responsible for this raid, they sought only to fill their bellies. There will be smoke, and cook fires; or if there are not, we know that word of our weakness travels swiftly to enemy ears.’

      He did not СКАЧАТЬ