Daughter of the Empire. Janny Wurts

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СКАЧАТЬ few resources. If my house is to become a lesser power, then at least I may choose allies. My father’s greatest enemy was the Lord of the Minwanabi. This is no secret. That he and you are presently at peace is only a matter of the moment. Sooner or later you must clash.’ Her small hands clenched in her lap, and her voice rose with resolve. ‘I would ally with anyone who might one day crush the man responsible for my father’s death!’

      The First Adviser to the Lord of the Anasati turned so none in the hall could see his face – it was a given that at least one of the Acoma guards would prove to be a spy who could read lips. He whispered into the ear of the Lord Tecuma, ‘I don’t believe a word of this, my Lord.’

      Lord Tecuma inclined his head and answered through clenched teeth. ‘I don’t either. Yet if this girl takes Jiro as Lord of the Acoma, I gain a great house as a lifetime ally, my son rises to a rank above any I could hope for, and she’s right: sooner or later we shall have to have a final accounting with Jingu of the Minwanabi. And if we destroy the Minwanabi, a son of mine will be Lord of one of the Five Great Families.’

      Chumaka shook his head in the barest motion of resignation. His Lord would be thinking that someday descendants of his in two houses might contend for the office of the Warlord. Tecuma continued his reasoning. ‘Besides, she will be but the wife of the Ruling Lord. Her husband will dictate Acoma policy. No, Chumaka, whatever Mara may plot, this is too good an opportunity to pass by. I do not think this girl clever enough to outwit us once Jiro rules the Acoma.’

      Tecuma glanced at his three sons and found Jiro studying Mara with interest. By the intensity of his expression, the second son found both the rank and the girl intriguing; a sensible youngster, he should welcome the marriage. Presently the boy sought his father’s gaze and nodded yes. Jiro’s expression was a little too avid and his nod too emphatic for Tecuma’s liking. The boy knew power was a hairsbreadth from his grasp and was openly coveting it. Tecuma almost sighed; Jiro was young and would learn. Still, there was a discordant note in all this the old man didn’t like. For an instant he considered sending the girl away, leaving her to the not too tender mercies of the Minwanabi. Ambition prevented him. For his son to reach a heretofore unreachable rank, combined with the pleasure of seeing the daughter of an old enemy brought firmly, and finally, to heel, overturned his last vestige of doubt. Motioning his hovering counsellor aside, the Lord of the Anasati turned to face Mara and said, ‘You have chosen wisely, daughter.’ By naming her ‘daughter’, he irrevocably sealed his acceptance of her offer of marriage before witnesses. ‘Whom to you seek to wed?’

      Nacoya barely concealed her outrage, the vigorous twitch of her fan being less to cool her face than to hide the angry shaking of her hand at this betrayal. Mara smiled. Looking nothing so much as a child whose parents had banished dreams of demons in the night, she allowed two officers to aid her in rising. According to tradition, she must now pick the bridegroom. Tecuma of the Anasati had no misgivings as his future daughter-in-law stepped from her litter. He disregarded the sudden agitation of his First Adviser as the girl moved towards Jiro, mincing steps being all her voluminous ceremonial costume would allow. Light caught in her jewelled headdress as she passed before cushions upon which the three sons sat in full court raiment. Halesko and Buntokapi watched their brother Jiro with different expressions, Halesko’s being something close to pride, while the youngest showed open indifference.

      Mara completed the formal bow of a girl to her betrothed and stepped forward. Without hesitation her hand fell upon the shoulder of the Anasati’s third son and she said, ‘Buntokapi of the Anasati, will you come and be Lord of the Acoma?’

      Chumaka muttered, ‘I knew it! Just as she stepped from the litter, I knew it would be Bunto.’ He turned his attention to Nacoya, who still hid behind her fan, but whose eyes had changed from showing rage to showing nothing. Chumaka felt a sudden stab of uncertainty. Could they all have so grossly underestimated this girl? Recovering his poise, he returned his attention to his Lord.

      In the Lord’s place of honour, perched above the silent, stunned ranks of the Anasati court, Tecuma sat at a loss. His bullnecked third son rose and stepped awkwardly to Mara’s side, a smile of smug self-congratulation on his face. The Lord of the Anasati urgently motioned for Chumaka to attend him and, as the First Adviser did so, whispered into his ear. ‘What is this? Why Bunto, of all my sons?’

      Chumaka kept his voice low. ‘She seeks a husband she can control.’

      Tecuma frowned with stormy displeasure. ‘I must stop her.’

      ‘Lord, you cannot. The ritual has gone too far. If you recant your formal acceptance, you must kill the Lady and all her warriors here and now. I must remind you,’ he added, looking as though his collar had suddenly grown too tight as he surveyed the fifty Acoma guards only a half-dozen steps away, ‘your own soldiers stand outside this building. Even if you survived such a bloodletting – which seems unlikely – you will forfeit all honour.’

      The last remark stung, for Tecuma recognized the truth. Even if he ended Mara’s existence now, he would have no moral position left; his word within the council would be meaningless, and his considerable power wasted to nothing. Flushed with ire, he whispered waspishly, ‘If only that idiot Minwanabi had killed the bitch last month!’ Then, as Mara glanced with apparent innocence in his direction, he forced himself to regroup. ‘We must turn her cleverness against her and seize the advantage, Chumaka. Jiro is still free to make a strong alliance, and Bunto …’ his voice fell silently. ‘I have never thought he would amount to much. Now he will be Lord of a great house. A malleable husband this girl may have gained, but she is an inexperienced virgin from Lashima’s order. Buntokapi shall become her overlord, the Ruler of the Acoma, and he is my son. For the honour of the Anasati, he will do as I require.’

      Chumaka watched the unlikely couple return across the dais. He did his utmost to mask his own displeasure as Buntokapi bent his bandy legs and settled awkwardly beside Mara on the Acoma litter. Already his blunt and bored expression had changed to one none present in the hall had ever seen; the boy’s lips curled with pride that bordered upon arrogance. Something long dormant in Buntokapi was now awake, that same desire for power which Jiro had shown but a moment before. Only for Buntokapi this was no dream but a thing now in his grasp. From the set of his eyes and the sudden self-assurance in his smile, he would clearly die before he let that power escape him. To Tecuma the First Adviser whispered, ‘I hope you are right, my Lord.’

      Looking rumpled under the elaborate layers of his costume, the Ruling Lord of the Anasati did not acknowledge the comment. Yet all through the formalities, as Mara’s retainers completed the betrothal ritual and left the hall, Chumaka watched the bows on the back of his master’s elaborate robes quiver with outrage. The Anasati First Adviser knew that even if the killwing was wrapped in stifling cloth, it was no less deadly.

      Nacoya fought against fatigue. Age and tension had made the day impossibly long. The lengthy, strenuous journey, added to the heat of the great hall and the shock of Mara’s unexpected behaviour, had brought the old nurse to the limit of her strength. Yet she was Tsurani, and Acoma, as well as acting First Adviser; she would be carried from the hall unconscious before she would shame her house by asking permission to retire.

      The traditional betrothal feast was sumptuous, as befitted a celebration for an Anasati son. Yet this occasion was oddly restrained, with no one quite sure what was really being celebrated. Mara had been quiet through the early part of the feast, saying nothing of consequence to anyone. Her officers, Keyoke, Papewaio, and Tasido, sat stiffly formal, imbibing little or no sa wine. At least, thought Nacoya, the evening breeze had come up. Now the great hall was only warm, not roasting as it had been throughout the day.

      Attention centred upon the table where the Acoma sat. Every guest in the house was an Anasati retainer or ally, and all attempted to discern the implications of Mara’s choice of husband. To all outward appearances the СКАЧАТЬ