The Complete Empire Trilogy: Daughter of the Empire, Mistress of the Empire, Servant of the Empire. Janny Wurts

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ 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 Acoma girl had traded control of her house for guarantees of security, a move none would applaud, but one not entirely lacking in honour. While the Acoma would be Anasati clients for many years to come, in the future a young Acoma lord might arise and seize his own part in the Game of the Council, forging new alliances; meanwhile, the Acoma name gained the protection it needed to continue. But for this generation of Acoma retainers, Mara’s betrothal was a bitter admission of weakness. Chilly despite the summer heat, Nacoya pulled a fringed shawl over her shoulders.

      She glanced to the head table and studied Tecuma. The Lord of the Anasati also showed reserve throughout the feast, his conversation sombre for a man who had just achieved an undreamed of coup over an old rival. Though gaining the Acoma lordship for Buntokapi represented great advancement in the Game of the Council, he seemed as concerned as Nacoya about this marriage, but for different reasons. His son was an unknown.

      Nacoya shifted her attention. Buntokapi seemed the only celebrant who truly enjoyed himself; after a drunken hour of repeatedly telling his brothers that they were no better than he, he had shouted across the table to Jiro that now a second son would have to bow to a third son whenever they met. From the pained and frozen smile on his older sibling’s face, those occasions would clearly be few. As evening wore on, Buntokapi had subsided to loud muttering into his plate, nearly immobile from drinking sa wine during dinner and acamel brandy after.

      Nacoya shook her head slightly. Jiro had looked long and hard at Mara after his brother’s first pronouncement of superiority; as dinner progressed, it was clear the girl had acquired another enemy. That afternoon, Jiro might have thought he was to be Lord of the Acoma for only a moment, but that brief presumption had been enough for him to feel betrayed, to feel that Buntokapi wore a mantle rightfully his. That Jiro was frustrated by nothing more than unrealized expectations of his own making meant nothing. He blamed Mara. When Tecuma had sent servants to bring the ceremonial sa wine to the guests, Jiro had barely touched his cup to his lips. He had left the first moment he could without insult. Nacoya wearily forced her attentions back to the head table.

      Tecuma looked at Buntokapi a long, hard moment, then spoke quietly to Mara, who glanced at her future husband and nodded her agreement. Buntokapi blinked, trying hard to follow the exchange, but obviously too drunk to comprehend. Tecuma spoke to Chumaka, who motioned towards a pair of servants. As the cooling evening air allowed Nacoya to catch her breath, two stout servants carried the future Lord of the Acoma off to bed. Mara waited an appropriate moment, then begged her leave. Tecuma nodded brusquely and the entire company rose in salute to the bride-to-be.

      The musicians who had played throughout the evening struck up the appropriate tune while Mara bade the guests good night. As she stood with the rest of the Acoma retainers, Nacoya found Chumaka approaching.

      ‘You’re leaving soon?’ he inquired.

      Nacoya nodded. ‘Tomorrow. My Lady wishes to return at once to our estates so that she may begin preparations for the wedding and the arrival of the new Lord.’

      Chumaka spread his hands as if to indicate this was no problem. ‘I shall have a scribe work throughout the night. The betrothal documents will be ready to sign before you depart.’ He made as if to turn away, then said something unusually frank. ‘I hope for the sake of all of us this young Lady of yours hasn’t made a mistake.’

      Taken off guard by this, Nacoya chose not to comment directly. Instead she said, ‘I can only hope the gods see fit to bless this union.’

      Chumaka smiled. ‘Of course, as do we all. Until the morning, then?’

      Nacoya nodded and departed, signalling for the two remaining Acoma retainers to accompany her. As an Anasati servant guided her to her quarters, she thought upon Chumaka’s unexpected words and wondered if he wasn’t right.

      Dust rolled under the feet of marching warriors as the Acoma retinue moved slowly to rejoin the balance of their soldiers, who waited in the camp by the bridge that marked the border of the Anasati estates. Nacoya had been quiet since she joined Mara on the cushions of the large palanquin. Whatever the Ruling Lady planned, she kept her own counsel, and Nacoya chose not to ask any questions. Even though she was acting as First Adviser, she could not guide unless asked; but an old nurse could let her doubts be heard. Conjuring up images of Buntokapi’s crudities at the feast the night before, Nacoya spoke sourly to her charge. ‘I hope you can control him, mistress.’

      Roused from deep thought, Mara’s eyes focused. ‘What? Oh, Bunto. He’s like a needra bull smelling the cows in season, Nacoya. All his brains are between his legs. I think he is exactly the man to gain us what we need.’

      Nacoya muttered under her breath. Once the shock of Mara’s choice of Buntokapi had worn off, the old nurse had come to sense a larger plan. Mara was not simply giving up her family’s control to the Anasati in exchange for preserving the Acoma name. Since the ruse with the bandits in the hills, the girl confided only those things she felt Nacoya needed to know. Almost overnight, it seemed, the sheltered temple innocent had shown she was no longer a child. While Nacoya had doubts, even fears, concerning the girl’s stubborn naïveté about men, Mara had forcefully demonstrated she was an aggressive player of the Game of the Council.

      Nacoya reviewed the strengths and weaknesses, patterns and powers of the players in the light of her mistress’s new commitment. And what she had observed in СКАЧАТЬ