Mara considered her meagre experience with men and chose prudence. ‘Send the runner ten minutes after we enter.’
‘Go now.’ Nacoya released her mistress with a pat of her hand. The old nurse smiled in the shadow. Thank the gods she had not needed to lie; Misa was Mara’s prettiest maid, and her appetite for handsome men was a subject of shameless gossip among the servants. She would play her part with unfeigned joy.
Attendants emptied the last pitchers of cool water into the tub, bowed, and retired, closing the screen. Mara released Bruli’s hand. The bells on her wrists tinkled sweetly as, with dance-like movements, she unfastened her sash and allowed her robe to slide off her shoulders. Beaded ornaments concealed the scar of her wound, and the silk sighed over her ivory skin, slipping past her waist and over the curve of her hips. As it drifted around her ankles to the floor, Mara lifted one bare foot, then the other, at last stepping free of the folds. She mounted the steps to the top of the wooden tub, remembering to hold her stomach flat and her chin up. At the corner of her vision she saw Bruli frantically shedding costly clothing; her game with the robe had brought the young man close to the point of losing decorum. When he tore off his loincloth, she witnessed the proof of her effect upon him. Mara refrained from laughing by only a signal act of will. How silly men could look when excited.
Bruli stretched. Confident that his body was worthy of admiration, he bounded to the tub, submerging his slender hips with a satisfied sound, as if he simply wished to soak. Mara knew better. Bruli had hoped for this moment, fretting with keenest anticipation for the better part of the week. He opened his arms, inviting Mara to join him. She smiled instead and took up a vial and a cake of scented soap. The priceless metal bells on her wrists chimed with her movements as she poured fragrant oils upon the surface of the water. Rainbows shimmered into being around Bruli’s athletic form. He closed his eyes in contentment, while the bells moved behind him and small hands began to soap his back.
‘You feel very nice,’ murmured Bruli.
Her hands melted away like ghosts. The bells sang a last shower of sound and fell silent, and the water rippled, gently. Bruli opened his eyes to find Mara in the tub before him, soaping her slender body with sensuous abandon. He licked his lips, unaware of the calculation in her pretty eyes. By the sloppy smile on his face, Mara guessed she was acting the part of the seductress convincingly.
The man’s breathing became nearly as heavy as Buntokapi’s. Unsurprised when Bruli seized another cake of soap and reached out to help, Mara twisted gracefully away and sank to her neck in the water. Suds and rainbows of oil veiled her form, and as Bruli stretched powerful hands towards her, the Lady forestalled him with a smile. ‘No, let me.’ Bath oils lapped the brim of the tub as she came to his side and playfully pushed his head under. The young man came up sputtering and laughing, and grabbed. But Mara had slid behind him. Tantalizingly, she began slowly to wash his hair. Bruli shivered with pleasure as he imagined the feel of her hands on other parts of his body. The hair washing worked downwards, became a gentle massage of his neck and back. Bruli pressed backwards, feeling the twin points of Mara’s breasts against his shoulders. He reached over his head for her, but her elusive hands slithered forwards, caressing his collarbones and chest. Aware of the quiver in his flesh, Mara hoped her runner would appear promptly. She was running out of ploys to delay, and in an odd way she had not anticipated, her own loins had begun to tighten. The sensation frightened her, for Buntokapi’s attentions had never made her feel this way. The scented soap filled the air with blossom fragrance, and the light of afternoon through the coloured screens made the bathing room a soft, gentle place for lovers. But Mara knew that it could just as easily be a place for killing, with Pape waiting with his hand on his sword, just out of sight behind the screen. This man was a vassal of the Minwanabi, an enemy, and she must not lose control.
Tentatively she rubbed her hand down Bruli’s stomach. He shivered and smiled at her, just as the screen swished back to admit the breathless form of her runner.
‘Mistress, I beg forgiveness, but your hadonra reports a message of the highest importance.’
Mara feigned a look of disappointment and raised herself from the tub. Servants rushed in with towels, and Bruli, tormented by lust, stared dumbly at the last glistening patches of nude flesh to disappear into the linens. Mara listened to the imaginary message and turned with open regret. ‘Bruli, I am most apologetic, but I must leave and tend to an unexpected matter.’
She bit her lip, ready with an excuse should he ask what had arisen, but his mind was so preoccupied with disappointment, he only said, ‘Can’t it wait?’
‘No.’ Mara gestured helplessly. ‘I’m afraid not.’
Water sloshed as Bruli raised himself to object. Mara hastened solicitously to his side and pressed him back into the bath. ‘Your pleasure need not be spoiled.’ She smiled, every inch the caring hostess, and called to one of her attendants. ‘Misa, Bruli has not finished his bathing. I think you should stay and tend him.’
The prettiest of the towel bearers stepped forward and without hesitation stripped off her robe and undergarments. Her figure was soft, even stunning, but Bruli ignored her, watching only Mara as she donned her clean robes and left the room. The door closed gently behind her. The son of Lord of the Kehotara drove a fist, splashing, into the bath water. Then, reluctantly, he noticed the maid. His frustration faded away, replaced by a hungry smile.
He dived through suds and broken patches of sweet oils and grabbed her by the shoulders. Hidden beyond the door, Mara did not wait to see the finale but eased the slight crack in the screen soundlessly closed. Nacoya and Papewaio followed her a short way down the corridor. ‘You were right, Nacoya. I acted the empress, and he hardly noticed Misa until after I left.’
A faint splash echoed from the bathing room, punctuated by a girlish squeal.
‘He seems to have noticed her now,’ Papewaio ventured.
Nacoya brushed this away as unimportant. ‘Misa will only whet his appetite all the more. He will now burn to have you, daughter. I think you have learned more of men than I had judged. Still, it is good Bruli remained calm in your presence. Had Pape had to kill him …’ She let the thought go unfinished.
‘Well, he didn’t.’ Irritable and strangely sickened, Mara dismissed the subject. ‘Now I will go and shut myself away in the study. Tell me when Bruli has finished with Misa and departed.’ She dismissed her First Strike Leader and First Adviser with a wave. Only the runner remained, his boy’s legs stretching in imitation of a warrior’s long stride. For once his antics did not amuse. ‘Send Jican to the study,’ Mara instructed him curtly. ‘I have plans concerning that land we acquired from the Lord of the Tuscalora.’
Mara hurried purposefully forward, but a screech of infant laughter melted her annoyance. Ayaki has awakened from his midday nap. Indulgently smiling, Mara changed course for the nursery. Intrigue and the great Game of the Council could wait until after she had visited her son.
When next he arrived to court Mara, Bruli of the Kehotara was accompanied by a dozen dancers, all expert in their art, who spun and jumped with astonishing athletic grace as a full score of musicians played. The litter that followed this procession was yet another new one, bedecked with metal and fringed with beaded gems. Mara squinted against the dazzle of reflected sunlight and judged her suitor’s style was approaching the pomp favoured by the Lord of the Anasati.
She whispered to Nacoya, ‘Why does each entrance become more of a circus?’
The old woman rubbed her hands together. ‘I’ve told your young suitor that you appreciate a man who can proudly display his wealth to the world, though I wasn’t quite that obvious.’
Mara returned a sceptical glance. ‘How did you know he would listen?’
Nacoya waved airily at the young man who leaned hopefully out of his litter, that he might catch a glimpse of the Lady he came to court. ‘Daughter, have you not learned, even now? Love can make fools of
even the best men.’
Mara nodded, at last understanding why her former nurse had insisted she play the wanton. Bruli could never have been coerced into spending such a fortune simply to carry out his father’s wishes. That morning Arakasi had received a report that the boy had come near to bankrupting the already shaky financial standing of the Kehotara. His father, Mekasi, would fare awkwardly if he had to appeal to Jingu’s good graces to save his honour.
‘To get between your legs, that boy would spend his father centiless.’ With a shake of her head Nacoya said, ‘He is to be pitied, a little. Serving up Misa in your stead has done what you wished: only heightened his appetite for you. The fool has fallen passionately in love.’
The First Adviser’s comment was nearly lost in a fanfare of horns. Vielle players ripped into a finale of arpeggios as Bruli’s party mounted the steps to the estate house and entered the garden. The dancers simultaneously twirled, dropping in a semicircle of bows before Mara as Bruli made his appearance. Now his black hair was crimped into ringlets, and his arms bore heavy bracelets of chased enamel work. As he came over to Mara, his strut faltered. Instead of the skimpy robe he had come to expect, she was wearing a formal white robe, with long sleeves and a hemline well below her knees.
Though he sensed some difficulty, he managed his bow with grace. ‘My Lady?’ he said as he waved his retinue aside.
Mara motioned for her servants to stand apart. Frowning a little, as if she struggled with disappointment too great to hide, she said, ‘Bruli, I have come to understand something.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘I have been alone … and you are a very handsome man. I … I have acted poorly.’ She finished the rest in a rush. ‘I have let desire rule my judgement, and now I discover that you think me another silly woman to add to your list of conquests.’
‘But no!’ interrupted Bruli, instantly concerned. ‘I think you a paragon among women, Mara.’ His voice softened almost to reverence. ‘More than that, I love you, Mara. I would never consider conquest concerning a woman I wish to wed.’
His sincerity swayed Mara for only a second. Despite his beauty, Bruli was but another vain young warrior, with little gift for thought or wisdom.
Mara stepped back as he reached for her. ‘I wish to believe you, Bruli, but your own actions deny your pretty words. Just two nights ago you found my maid an easy substitute for …’ How easily the lie came, she thought. ‘I was ready to give myself to you, sweet Bruli. But I find you are simply another adventurer of the heart, and I a poor, plain widow.’
Bruli dropped immediately to one knee, a servant’s gesture, and shocking for its sincerity. He began earnestly to profess his love, but Mara turned sharply away. ‘I cannot hear this. It breaks my heart.’ Feigning injury too great to support, she fled the garden.
As the tap of her sandals faded into the house, Bruli slowly rose from his knees. Finding Nacoya by his elbow, he gestured in embarrassed confusion. ‘Ancient mother, if she will not listen to me, how may I prove my love?’
Nacoya clucked understandingly and patted the young man’s arm, steering him deftly through musicians and dancers to his dazzlingly appointed litter. ‘Girls have little strength, Bruli. You must be gentle and patient. I think some small gift or another, sent with a letter, or, better, a poem, might sway her heart. Perhaps one a day until she calls you back.’ Touching the fringes with admiring hands, Nacoya said, ‘You had her won, you know. Had you shown restraint enough to leave that maid alone, she surely would have become your wife.’
Frustration became too much for Bruli. ‘But I thought she wished me to take the girl!’ His rings rattled as he folded his arms in pique. ‘The maid was certainly bold enough in the tub and … it is not the first time I have been given a servant for sport by my host.’
Nacoya played the role of grandmother to the limit of her ability. ‘Ah, you poor boy. You know so little about the heart of a female. I wager no woman you paid court to ever sent her maids to warm your bed.’ She wagged her finger under his nose. ‘It was another man who did so, eh?’
Bruli stared at the fine gravel of the path, forced to admit she was correct. Nacoya nodded briskly. ‘See, it was, in a manner of speaking, a test.’ As his eyes began to narrow, she said, ‘Not by design, I assure you; simply put, had you dressed and left at once, my mistress would have been yours for the asking. Now …’
Bruli flung back crimped locks and groaned. ‘What am I to do?’
‘As I said, gifts.’ Nacoya’s tone turned chiding. ‘And I think you should prove your passion may be answered only by true love. Send away those girls you keep at your hostelry in the city.’
Bruli stiffened in immediate suspicion. ‘You have spies! How else could you know I have two women of the Reed Life at my quarters in the city?’
Though Arakasi’s operatives had indeed proved that fact, Nacoya only nodded in ancient wisdom. ‘See, I guessed right! And if an old, simple woman such as myself can guess, then so must my Lady.’ Short and wizened beside the proud warrior, she ushered him to the dooryard where his litter waited. ‘You must go, young master Bruli. If your heart is to win its reward, you must not be seen talking overlong with me! My Lady might suspect me of advising you, and that would never please her. Go quickly, and be unstinting in the proof of your devotion.’
The son of Mekasi reluctantly settled onto his cushions. His slaves shouldered the poles of his gaudy litter, and like clockwork toys, the musicians began to play the appointed recessional. Dancers whirled in joyful gyrations, until a carping shout from their master ended their display. The vielles scraped and fell silent, and a last, tardy horn player set the needra bulls bellowing in the pastures. How fitting that his send-off came from the beasts, Nacoya thought as, in a sombre band, his cortege departed for Sulan-Qu. The hot sun of midday wilted the flower garlands on the heads of the dancers and slaves, and almost the Acoma First Adviser felt sorry for the young man. Almost.
The gifts began to arrive the next day. A rare bird that sang a haunting song came first, with a note in fairly bad poetry. Nacoya read it after Mara had laid it aside, and commented, ‘The calligraphy is well practised. He must have spent a few dimis hiring a poet to write this.’
‘Then he wasted his wealth. It’s awful.’ Mara waved for a servant to clear away the colourful paper wrappings that had covered the bird’s cage. The bird itself hopped from perch to reed perch, singing its tiny heart out.
Just then Arakasi bowed at the entrance of the study. ‘My Lady, I have discovered the identity of the Kehotara agent.’
As an afterthought, Mara directed the slaves to carry the bird to another chamber. As its warble diminished down the corridor, she said, ‘Who?’
Arakasi accepted her invitation to enter. ‘One of Bruli’s servants hurried to send a message, warning his father of his excesses, I think. But the odd thing is another slave, a porter, also left his master’s own house to meet with a vegetable seller. Their discussion did not concern produce, and it seems likely he was a Minwanabi agent.’
Mara twined a bit of ribbon between her fingers. ‘Has anything been done?’
Arakasi understood her perfectly. ‘The first man had an unfortunate accident. His message fell into the hands of another vegetable seller who, it so chances, hates Jingu.’ The Spy Master withdrew a document from his robe, which he gravely offered to Mara.
‘You still smell like seshi tubers,’ the Lady of the Acoma accused gently, then went on to read the note. ‘Yes, this proves your suppositions. It also suggests that Bruli had no idea he had a second agent in his party.’
Arakasi frowned, as he always did when he read things upside down. ‘If that figure is accurate, Bruli is close to placing his father in financial peril.’ The Spy Master paused to stroke his chin. ‘With Jican’s guidance, I convinced many of the craftsmen and merchants to delay their bills until we wish them sent. Here the Acoma benefit from your practice of prompt payment.’
Mara nodded in acknowledgement. ‘How much grace does that leave
the Kehotara?’
‘Little. How long could any merchant afford to finance Bruli’s courtship? Soon they will send to the Lord of the Kehotara’s hadonra for payment. I would love to be an insect upon the wall watching when he receives that packet of bills.’
Mara regarded her Spy Master keenly. ‘You have more to say.’
Arakasi raised his brows in surprise. ‘You have come to know me very well.’ But his tone implied a question.
Silently Mara pointed to the foot he tapped gently on the carpet. ‘When you’re finished, you always stop.’
The Spy Master came close to a grin. ‘Sorceress,’ he said admiringly; then his voice sobered. ‘The Blue Wheel Party has just ordered all their Force Commanders back from Midkemia, as we had suspected they might.’
Mara’s eyes narrowed. ‘Then we have little time left to deal with this vain and foolish boy. Within a few days his father will send for him, even if he hasn’t discovered the perilous state of his finances.’ She tapped absently with the scroll while she considered her next move. ‘Arakasi, watch for any attempts to send a messenger to Bruli before Nacoya convinces him to make me a gift of that litter. And, old mother, the moment he does, call him to visit.’ Mara’s gaze lingered long upon her two advisers. ‘And hope we can deal with him before his father orders him to kill me.’
Bruli sent a new gift each of the next four days. The servants piled them in one corner of Mara’s study, until Nacoya commented sourly that the room resembled a market stall. The accumulation was impressive – costly robes of the finest silk; exotic wines and fruits, imported to the central Empire at great cost; gems and even metal jewellery. At the last, on the fifth day following the afternoon she had sent the young man away, the fabulous litter had arrived. Then Mara ordered Arakasi to send Bruli the second message, one intercepted scarcely the day before. The Lord of the Kehotara had at last received word of his son’s excesses and sternly ordered the boy home at once. In his instructions the angry old patriarch had detailed exactly what he thought of his son’s irresponsible behaviour.
The Complete Empire Trilogy Page 38
