The Complete Empire Trilogy. Janny Wurts

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      Jingu of the Minwanabi had sent this woman to further his plot to destroy the Acoma. But instead, Teani only managed to distract Buntokapi, enabling Mara to realize her plans more quickly. And the ultimate aim of those plans was the strengthening of House Acoma … and the destruction of the Minwanabi. Mara savoured the irony in silence. Teani must go back to her master ignorant that her true role had been uncovered. Let Jingu think this woman had been banished by a jealous wife.

      Prudently, Mara motioned for two of her soldiers to stand guard by the door. Then, stepping ahead of her bodyguards, but keeping carefully beyond reach of a knife thrust, she spoke to the kneeling concubine. ‘What is your name?’

      ‘Teani, mistress.’ The woman kept her eyes cast downward.

      Mara distrusted her subservience. ‘Look at me.’

      Teani raised her head, and Mara heard a slight stir from the warriors who looked on. The concubine’s golden, heart-shaped face framed lovely eyes, almost amber in colour. Her features were perfect, and sweet as the honey in the hives of the red-bee. But beyond beauty, Mara saw something that made her hesitate. This woman was dangerous, as much a threat as any player in the Great Game. Yet the Lady of the Acoma spoke no hint of her conclusion aloud. ‘What are your duties?’

      Still upon her knees, Teani said, ‘I served your husband as a maid, mistress.’

      The Lady of the Acoma almost laughed at the woman’s brazen act. To call herself a maid while sitting upon her heels in a robe more costly than any Mara owned save for her ceremonial attire was an insult to human intelligence. Brusquely Mara said, ‘I think not.’

      Teani’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing. Then Mara understood: for the briefest instant the concubine had wondered whether her role as spy was discovered. To disarm any suspicion, Mara enquired after the other servants. ‘What are your duties?’

      The staff identified themselves as a cook, a gardener, and a maid, facts Mara already knew from the intelligence given her by Jican. She ordered the three of them to the estate and told them to ask the hadonra for new duties. They left quickly, glad to be avoiding the coming confrontation between their late Lord’s wife and his mistress.

      When the room was empty save for Mara, Teani, and the soldiers, Mara said, ‘I think we shall have no need for your services at the estate house.’

      Teani’s poise remained admirably unbroken. ‘Have I displeased my mistress?’

      Mara stifled an urge to smile. ‘No, on the contrary, you spared me a great deal of pain, inconvenience, and irritation over the last few months. Yet I am not as adventuresome in my tastes as some ladies of great houses; my appetites do not turn towards members of my own sex.’ She glanced at the fading bruise that mottled the skin over Teani’s collarbone. ‘You seem to have shared my husband’s taste for … rough sport. Your talents would go to waste on my estates – unless you think you would care to entertain my soldiers?’

      Teani’s head jerked, ever so slightly; she managed not to expel her breath in a hiss of anger, and Mara was forced to admiration of her action. The insult was great; as a courtesan or mistress, Teani would have a certain legitimacy in Tsurani society. In ancient times there had been little difference between a lord’s courtesan and wife in Tsurani culture. Had Mara died before her husband, any real courtesan of Buntokapi’s might have been permanently installed in the Acoma house. And if Teani survived both wife and master, a Ruling Lord’s resident mistress had certain legal rights and privileges of inheritance. A woman of the Reed Life was considered a craftsperson or even an artist in the ways of pleasure. But a camp follower was a woman of the meanest class. Anywhere but in a camp of war, the women who followed the armies of the Empire were shunned and despised. And they had no honour. Teani had been named a whore, and if the women had been warriors Mara would now be fighting for her life.

      The concubine only glared at Mara. Struggling with her self-control just enough to convince, she pressed her forehead to the floor, red-gold hair almost brushing the toes of her mistress’s sandals. ‘My Lady, I think you misjudge me. I am an accomplished musician and am skilled in the arts of massage and conversation. I know the seven ways to rid the body of aches and pain: by pressure, by stroking, by rubbing, by herbs, by smoke, by pins, and by realignment of the joints. I can quote passages of the sagas from memory and I can dance.’

      No doubt the woman was capable in all the named skills, though Buntokapi had probably availed himself of little other than an occasional massage, or a song before indulging in sex. But Teani was also an agent and, likely as not, a trained assassin. With Buntokapi dead, she needed only one opportunity to rid her Minwanabi master of both Mara and Ayaki, ending the Acoma forever.

      Dread of Jingu’s plots caused Mara to respond sharply. Not allowing Teani the courtesy of rising from her knees, she said, ‘You’ll have little difficulty finding yourself another position. A maid blessed with such talents as yours should easily catch the fancy of some great Lord, one who would be eager to have you at his side. Within the hour a factor will arrive to close down this house in preparation for selling it and all the furnishings. Take whatever gifts my husband left you and depart, for nothing of the Acoma shall remain here.’ She paused and regarded Teani’s ripe curves with contempt. ‘And of course no trash shall be left behind for the new owner.’

      Mara spun and walked through the door, as if the concubine she had dismissed were now beneath her notice. Only the observant eyes of Arakasi saw Teani release the iron control she had exercised for the deception of her mistress. An expression of naked hatred settled upon the young woman’s face; her beauty became a cruel thing, black and twisted and murderous to behold. And in that moment Arakasi observed that the insults of Mara of the Acoma would be carefully remembered, that each might be separately avenged.

      Borrowing the authority of his officer’s plumes, the Spy Master seized the initiative and assigned two warriors to remain on the premises to see his Lady’s orders carried out. Then, before Teani had bridled her rage enough to remember his face, he slipped swiftly through the door.

      Outside, as he hurried into place beside his mistress, Mara said, ‘Is she the one?’

      Arakasi unhooked the chin strap of his helm so he could speak without being overheard. ‘Indeed, my Lady. Teani is the spy. Until she arrived in the city, she was a favourite with the Lord of the Minwanabi and shared his bed on a regular basis. Why she was chosen to spy upon Lord Buntokapi is not clear, but she must have convinced her master she could serve his interests.’ They reached the litter, dead leaves obscuring the conversation from chance eavesdroppers. Even on the quietest side street, Arakasi exercised his customary caution. As he helped Mara onto her cushions, he whispered, ‘What Teani did before she came to Minwanabi service our agent cannot say.’ He directed a meaningful glance at the town house. ‘I will rest easier when my men have had the chance to discover more about her, for I think you have made an enemy, Lady. Only I saw the expression in her eyes as you left. It was murder.’

      Mara rested her head back, eyes half-closed. Wisely or not, she dismissed the issue, for the next step in her plans demanded all of her attention. ‘Kill me for duty, kill me for personal reasons, the risk is no more.’

      Her slender body stiffened against the jostling motion as the slaves lifted the litter. Arakasi fell into step, with Papewaio on the other side. Over the tramp of marching feet he murmured, ‘There you are wrong, mistress. Some might falter in their resolve if they are motivated solely by duty. But to avenge a personal slight, many care nothing if they perish, as long as their foe dies with them.’

      Mara opened angry eyes. ‘You are saying I acted the fool?’

      Arakasi СКАЧАТЬ