The Complete Empire Trilogy. Janny Wurts

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СКАЧАТЬ do I owe the honour?’ His face became instantly impassive as his visitor ordered her warriors to stand at ease around her litter. The Lady clearly intended to stay, despite the fact that the Lord of the Tuscalora pointedly scanted courtesy by not inviting her inside for refreshments.

      Chilled by the man’s calculating eyes, Mara forced herself to begin. ‘Lord Jidu, I have a note signed by you promising the sum of two thousand centuries in metal to my late husband. My hadonra has communicated with your hadonra regarding this matter several times in the last few weeks. When another request, personally made by me, was delivered to you, you took it upon yourself to answer with insult. I came to speak of this.’

      ‘I’m not certain I take your meaning,’ said the Lord of the Tuscalora. He made a show of tossing aside a fruit rind and, with a curt motion of his head, sent one of his servants swiftly into the house. The next instant the runner flashed out through a side entrance, sprinting for what surely would be the soldiers’ quarters.

      ‘I mean this,’ said Mara with all the forcefulness she could muster. ‘When you say you do not feel obliged to respond to my message and would be pleased if I would cease “nagging at you”, you insult my honour, Lord Jidu.’ Pointing an accusatory finger, she looked more like the image of her father than she knew. ‘How dare you speak to me like some fishwife by the riverside! I am the Lady of the Acoma! I will not abide such instruction from any man! I demand the respect I am due.’

      The Lord pushed away from the doorpost, his manner no longer languid. Speaking as if to a child, he said, ‘Lady Mara, betting debts are not usually settled so directly. Your late husband understood.’

      Mara snapped her fan shut, certain the man was stalling her. The instant his garrison received the call to arms, his mockingly paternal solicitude would end. She swallowed, bitterly resolved, and answered with the pride of her ancestors. ‘My late husband no longer rules, but I can assure you, had Lord Buntokapi received such impolite demands to “cease nagging”, he would be challenging you over the point of his sword. Don’t think I will do less if you do not apologize at once and make good the debt.’

      Lord Jidu stroked his plump waistline like a man just rising from a feast. He watched Mara keenly, and his confidence warned her before the rattle of armour and weapons that a squad of Tuscalora soldiers hurried into view. Papewaio went tense by her side. These were not slack household guards but soldiers well seasoned by extended duty on the border. They stationed themselves at either side of the doorway, in an advantageous formation: in the event of attack, the Acoma bowmen would be forced to fire uphill, and into the glare of the sun.

      Pulling himself up to the limit of his squat stature, Lord Jidu stopped stroking his stomach. ‘If I avow that your demand for payment is an affront, what then, Lady Mara? To pester me for the sums due you implies I will not pay my debt. I think you may have insulted Tuscalora honour.’

      The accusation caused the soldiers by the door to clap hands to their sword hilts. Their discipline was faultless; and their readiness to charge, a palpable tension in the air. Papewaio signalled the Acoma retinue, and as smoothly the Lady’s green-armoured guard closed protectively about the litter, shields angled outward. Surrounded by men who sweated with nerves and determination, Mara resisted the need to blot her own damp palms. Had her father felt the same fear as he charged on the barbarian world, knowing his death awaited? Fighting to maintain an outward appearance of calm, Mara looked between the shield rims of her bodyguard and locked stares with the Lord of the Tuscalora. ‘Then we agree we have a cause to settle.’

      Sweat sparkled on Jidu’s upper lip, yet his eyes were not cowed. He flicked his fingers, and instantly his line of soldiers crouched in preparation for a charge. Almost inaudibly Papewaio murmured for his own men to hold steady. But his heel scuffed backward in the gravel, and behind the litter Mara heard a faint rustle. The archer crouched there, beyond the view of the estate house, had seen the signal. Surreptitiously he strung his bow, and Mara felt fear like a blade in her heart. Papewaio was preparing to fight, and his instincts in matters of war were uncanny.

      Still, Lord Jidu’s reply all but unnerved her. ‘You speak boldly, for one who sits deep in the heart of Tuscalora lands.’

      Mara arose from her litter and stood motionless in the sunlight. ‘If Acoma honour is not satisfied, blood must answer.’

      The two rulers measured each other; the Lord Jidu flicked a glance over Mara’s fifty guards. His own squad was three times that number, and by now his reserves would be armed and awaiting orders from their Strike Leaders, to rush the estate borders where scouts had earlier reported the presence of soldiers in Acoma green. The Lord of the Tuscalora lowered his brows in a manner that caused his servants to duck quickly inside the estate house. ‘The blood spilled will be Acoma, Lady!’ And the man’s plump hand rose and signalled the charge.

      Swords scraped from scabbards, and the Tuscalora archers snapped off a flight of arrows, even as their front ranks rushed forward. Mara heard battle cries from the throats of her own soldiers; then Papewaio shoved her down and sideways, out of the line of fire. But his action came too late. Mara felt a thud against her upper arm that turned her half around. She fell back, through gauze curtains and onto the cushions of her litter, a Tuscalora arrow with its pale blue feathers protruding from her flesh. Her vision swam, but she made no outcry.

      Dizziness made the sky seem to turn above her as the shields of her defenders clicked together, barely an instant before the enemy closed their charge.

      Weapons clashed and shields rang. Gravel scattered under straining feet. Through the haze of discomfort, Mara concentrated upon the fact that the one Acoma archer who mattered had not yet released his round. ‘Pape, the signal,’ she said through clenched teeth. Her voice sounded weak in her own ear.

      Her powerful Strike Leader did not answer. Blinking sweat from her eyes, Mara squinted through sunlight and whirling blades until she found the plumed helm. But Papewaio could not come to her, beset as he was by enemies. Even as Mara watched him dispatch one with a thrust to the neck, two others in Tuscalora blue leaped over their dying comrade to engage him. Plainly, Jidu’s orders had been to cut down the one Acoma officer, in the hope that his death might throw Mara’s guard into disarray.

      Through her pain, Mara admired the merit of such tactics. With the high number of newcomers among the Acoma guard, and little to no encounters on the battlefield, many of these men were fighting with shieldmates who were strange to them. And against the relentless, concentrated attack of Jidu’s finest warriors, even Papewaio was hard-pressed. Mara gritted her teeth. Only minutes remained before the enemy overwhelmed her guard, and the plan she had devised to avoid their massacre had yet to be put into effect.

      She gripped the side of the litter, but even that small movement caused the arrow in her arm to grate against the bone. Agony shot through her body; she whimpered through locked teeth and struggled not to faint.

      Blades screeched in a bind, seemingly over her head. Then an Acoma guard crashed back and fell, blood spraying through a rent in his armour. He shuddered, his opened eyes reflecting sky. Then his lips framed a parting prayer to Chochocan, and his hand slackened on his sword. Mara felt-tears sting her eyes. Thus her father had died, and Lano; the thought of little Ayaki spitted on an enemy spear turned her sick with fury.

      She reached out and caught the sweat-damp grip of the fallen soldier’s sword. Using the blade as a prop, she dragged herself to her knees. The sun fell hot on her head, and her eyes swam with pain. Through waves of faintness, she saw that an unlucky arrow had managed to dispatch her precious archer. He lay moaning with his hands clenched over his gut. And the signal arrow that would summon Lujan and Tasido to action sparkled unused at his feet.

      Mara groaned. Shouts beat against her ears, and the clash of blade on blade СКАЧАТЬ