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

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СКАЧАТЬ you hoped, Jidu ordered a withdrawal when his fields were threatened.’ He glanced over his shoulder, where his battered and weary squad stood ready, and said, ‘We are still in danger, but I think you hold the stronger position for the moment. But you need to speak with Jidu, now, before matters turn for the worse.’

      Mara shook her head and allowed Papewaio and another soldier to lift her from her litter. Her feet seemed to betray her. She was forced to cling to her Strike Leader’s arm as slowly she made her way over blood-spattered gravel to where her line of remaining soldiers stood. Mara’s vision was blurred. She blinked several times to clear it, and noticed an acrid smell in the air. Smoke from the fired fields drifted like a pall over the estate house.

      ‘Mara!’ Jidu’s shout was frantic. ‘I propose a truce. Order your men to stand away from my fields and I’ll admit I was wrong in not acknowledging my obligation.’

      Mara regarded the fat, anxious man and coldly moved to turn the situation to Acoma advantage. ‘You attacked me without provocation. Did you think, after admitting you were wrong, I would forgive the slaughter of good men for payment of a debt you owe me anyway?’

      ‘We can settle our differences later,’ cried Jidu, his colour turning florid. ‘My fields burn.’

      Mara nodded. Papewaio motioned with his sword point and a soldier sent another signal arrow overhead. Mara tried to speak, but weakness overcame her. She whispered to Papewaio, who shouted, ‘My mistress says our workers will put out the fires. But our men will maintain position with lit torches. Should anything here go amiss, the chocha-la field will be reduced to ashes.’

      Jidu’s eyes went feral as he struggled to think of a way an advantage might still be gained. A ragged, smoke-stained runner raced into the dooryard. ‘Master, Acoma soldiers repulse our men. The auxiliaries failed to open a way to the river.’

      The Lord of the Tuscalora lost his resolve. Painfully resigned, he sank to his cushions and rubbed his hands on chubby knees. ‘Very well, Mara. I accept the inevitable. We shall abide by your wishes.’ He said to his First Strike Leader, ‘Put up your arms.’

      The Lord of the Tuscalora looked on uneasily while Mara shifted her weight to ease her wounded arm. The Lady of the Acoma had refused Jidu’s offer to let his healer tend her; instead she had settled for a field bandage contrived by Papewaio. Acoma soldiers still held position amid the chocha-la and the Tuscalora Force Commander confirmed the worst. The Acoma could fire the field again before they could be forced back.

      Jidu sweated and strove desperately to pass the matter off as a misunderstanding. ‘It was an agreement between men, my Lady. I had many wagers with your late husband. Sometimes he won, sometimes I won. We let the sums accumulate, and when I won a bet, the amount was deducted. If later I chanced to gain the advantage, I let the debt ride in turn. It’s … a gentleman’s agreement.’

      ‘Well, I do not gamble, Lord Jidu.’ Mara turned dark, angry eyes upon her unwilling host. ‘I think we shall simply settle for payment … and indemnity for the damage done my honour. Acoma soldiers died this day.’

      ‘You ask the impossible!’ The Lord of the Tuscalora flung pudgy hands in the air in an un-Tsurani-like display of distress.

      Mara raised her eyebrows. ‘You still choose not to honour this debt?’ She glanced pointedly towards the Acoma soldiers who clustered close at hand, an archer in their midst ready to launch another signal arrow. Jidu stared at the shell sequins ornamenting his sandals. ‘Ah, my Lady … I’m sorry to cause you inconvenience. But threats cannot change the fact that I am unable to honour the debt at this time. Of course, I will meet my obligation in full the instant my circumstances permit. On this you have my uncompromised word.’

      Mara sat very still. Her voice held a hard and bitter edge. ‘I am not presently inclined towards patience, Lord Jidu. How soon may I expect payment?’

      Jidu looked abashed as he admitted, ‘I have recently suffered personal reversals, Lady Mara. But I can safely promise compensation when this year’s crop goes to market.’

      If it goes to market, Mara thought pointedly. She sat back. ‘The chocha-la harvest is not due for another three months, Lord Jidu. You expect me to wait until then for two thousand centuries of metal – and my indemnity?’

      ‘But you must,’ the Lord of the Tuscalora exclaimed miserably. He motioned in distress to the short, thin man who sat at his master’s side. Sijana, the Tuscalora hadonra, shuffled scrolls in a hasty review of the estate’s finances. He whispered furiously in his master’s ear and paused, expectant. Lord Jidu patted his stomach with renewed confidence. ‘Actually, Lady, two thousand centuries can be paid now – plus another five hundred to repair the damage you’ve suffered. But a single payment of that size would prevent me from expanding the planting for next year. Lord Buntokapi understood this and promised to allow a favourable repayment schedule, five hundred centuries a year for the next four years – five years to cover the restitution.’ The hadonra’s nod of satisfaction turned to dismay; a deep flush rose from Jidu’s collar as he realized his words had contradicted his earlier insistence that his debt was to be left to wait upon the outcome of future wagers. Since Mara was certain to seize upon this small but shameful lie, he quickly added, ‘I’ll pay interest, of course.’

      Heavy silence fell, punctuated by Jidu’s heavy breathing and a near-imperceptible creak of armour as Papewaio shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. Mara used her good hand to open her fan, her manner poisonously sweet. ‘You argue like a moneylender, while Acoma soldiers lie dead outside your door? If my late Lord chose to offer terms on the debt, so be it. Produce the document and we shall abide by the terms.’

      Jidu blinked. ‘But our agreement was spoken, Lady Mara, a promise between noblemen.’

      The fan vibrated in the air as Mara reined back rage. ‘You have no proof? And yet you haggle?’

      With his field held hostage, Jidu shied from bringing up matters of honour again. ‘You have my word, my Lady.’

      Mara winced. The Lord of the Tuscalora had created a situation where she could only call him forsworn, an insult no ruler could ignore. Etiquette demanded that the Lady of the Acoma accept the agreement, thereby gaining nothing for the next three months, and then only a fifth of what was due, or resume the useless slaughter.

      The fan poised motionless in her hand. ‘But this debt is overdue already, Lord Jidu,’ she said. ‘Your hadonra’s failure to acknowledge inquiries in timely fashion brought about this impasse. I will brook no more delays, or your fields will be put to the torch.’

      ‘What do you propose?’ he asked weakly.

      Mara rested her pretty fan on her knee. Though her wound obviously taxed her, she judged her moment perfectly, offering a counterbargin before Jidu’s wits could recover. ‘My Lord, you own a small strip of land between my northern and southern needra fields, cut down the middle by the dry stream bed.’

      Jidu nodded. ‘I know the land.’ He had once offered to sell that same acreage to Mara’s father; Sezu had declined, because the land was useless. The banks of the dried stream were rocky and eroded and much too steep to cultivate. A crafty expression crossed the features of the Lord of the Tuscalora. ‘Have you a need for that land, my Lady?’

      Mara tapped her fan, thoughtful. ‘We recently gave the use of our upper meadow to the cho-ja. Now, Jican might find it useful for those lower fields to be connected, perhaps with a plank bridge so the needra calves can cross without injuring their legs.’ Recalling СКАЧАТЬ