The Complete Empire Trilogy

by Raymond E. Feist

  ‘My Lady, I am pleased to see you again.’ Bruli seated himself, neatly tucking his sandals beneath his calves. ‘I trust the business with your neighbour went well?’

  Mara nodded absently. ‘Merely a small debt from Jidu to my late Lord Buntokapi that needed settlement. The matter has been resolved.’

  A flicker of interest stirred in the eyes of the young man, at odds with his languid expression. Reminded that Bruli might himself be an agent for the Minwanabi, Mara steered the conversation away from her contention with Lord Jidu. ‘My outing this morning has left me tired and hot. If you will join me, I will have my servant bring wine and cakes to the garden.’ To allow her tactic time to have effect, she seized upon the simplest excuse. ‘I will meet you there after I change into a more comfortable robe.’

  Nacoya nodded almost imperceptibly, telling Mara that her delay had been opportune. The young suitor bowed. While a servant led him away, the First Adviser to the Acoma hurried to her mistress’s side, her usual grouchy manner replaced by solicitude. ‘Did the cho-ja ease your pain?’

  ‘Yes.’ Mara fingered the ribbons on the overrobe. ‘Now, mother of my heart, will you explain to me what this silly frippery has to do with our plans for young Bruli?’

  Nacoya’s eyes widened with evil delight. ‘Ah, Mara-anni, you have much to learn of the ways of men!’ Taking her charge firmly by the hand, she towed her off to her private quarters. ‘This afternoon you must do your best to be the temptress, my Lady. I have selected appropriate raiment for you to wear after your bath.’

  Crossing the threshold, Nacoya displayed a conspirator’s excitement. Servants could be heard pouring bath water behind the small folding partition, and several items of clothing had been neatly laid out upon the sleeping mat. Mara regarded her adviser’s chosen outfit with a sceptical eye. ‘Nacoya, several pieces seem to be missing.’

  Nacoya smiled. She gathered up the skimpy lounging robe, commonly worn by ladies in the privacy of their own quarters. Nudity, per se, was not a social difficulty. Adults and children of both sexes bathed together and a small loincloth for swimming was optional. But like most things involved with courtship, provocation was a condition of the mind. Worn in the garden in the presence of a stranger, this slight gown would prove more alluring than if Mara had invited Bruli to swim naked with her.

  Nacoya ran old fingers over the gauzy fabric, her manner suddenly serious. ‘For my small plan to work, Bruli must become motivated by more than the wish to please his father. If he comes to desire you, he will do things he otherwise would never consider. You must act as flirtatiously as you are able.’

  Mara almost winced. ‘Shall I simper?’ She turned sideways, surrendering the lace fan to one of the servants who arrived to remove her travelling robes.

  ‘That might not hurt.’ Nacoya stepped over to a chest and fished out a small vial. Then she hummed softly over the splash of the bath water; the song was an ancient courting tune she remembered from her youth. Presently Mara emerged from behind the screen, swathed in soft towels. The old woman waved the servants aside and dabbed an exotic essence upon the girl’s shoulders and wrists, and between her breasts. Then she lifted the towels aside; regarding the nude form of her mistress, she resisted an impulse to cackle. ‘You’ve a fine, healthy body on you, Mara-anni. If you could practise a little more grace and elegance in your movement, you could have all the blood gone from his head in a minute.’

  Not at all convinced, Mara turned towards the reflecting glass, a costly gift from a clan leader on her wedding day. Against its dark patina, a dimmer shadow returned her gaze. Childbirth had left a minimum of stretch marks, the result of constant ministration of special oils during her pregnancy. Her breasts were slightly larger than before Ayaki’s conception, but her stomach was as flat as ever. After giving birth to her son she had begun the practice of tan-che, the ancient formal dance that strengthened the body while keeping it limber. But Mara found little attractive in her slender form, particularly after having seen Teani’s charms.

  ‘I’m going to feel terribly silly,’ she confided to her image in the glass. Nevertheless, she allowed the servants to dress her in the skimpy robe, with several pieces of flashing jewellery and a ribbon upon her right ankle. Billowy sleeves concealed the dressing on her upper arm. Humming loudly now, Nacoya stepped behind her mistress and gathered her hair on top of her head. Binding it with ivory and jade pins, she fussed and allowed a few wisps to dangle artfully down around Mara’s face. ‘There; men like the slightly dishevelled look. It puts them in mind of what ladies look like in the morning.’

  ‘Bleary-eyed and puffy-faced?’ Mara almost laughed.

  ‘Bah!’ Nacoya shook her finger, deadly serious. ‘You have yet to learn what most women guess by instinct, Mara-anni. Beauty is as much attitude as face and form. If you enter the garden like an Empress, slowly, moving as if every man who sees you is your slave, Bruli would ignore a dozen pretty dancing girls to take you to his bed. As much as managing your estates, this skill is necessary for a Ruling Lady. Remember this: move slowly. When you sit, or sip your wine, be as elegant as you can, like a woman of the Reed Life when she struts on her balcony over the streets. Smile and listen to Bruli as if everything he says is stunningly brilliant, and should he jest, for the gods’ sake laugh, even if the joke is poor. And if your robes move and part a little, let him peek a bit before you cover up. I wish this son of the Kehotara to be snorting after you like a needra bull at breeding time.’

  ‘Your plan had better prove worthwhile,’ said Mara with distaste. She ran her fingers through jingling layers of necklaces. ‘I feel like a merchant’s manikin. But I will try to act like Bunto’s little whore, Teani, if you think advantage will come of it.’ Then her voice gained an edge. ‘Understand this, though, mother of my heart. I will not take this young calley bird to bed.’

  Nacoya smiled at her reference to the finely plumed birds kept by many nobles for their beauty. ‘A calley bird he is, mistress, and my plan requires that he show us his finest plumage.’

  Mara looked heavenward, then nodded. She started her usual brisk walk, but remembered to move out the door with her best imitation of a woman of the Reed Life. Attempting to be languid in her approach to the young suitor, Mara blushed with embarrassment. She thought her entrance was exaggerated to the point of silliness, but Bruli sat up straight upon his cushions. He smiled broadly and jumped to his feet, bowing deferentially to the Lady of the Acoma; all the while his eyes drank in her image.

  Once Mara was installed upon her cushions, the young man might even have poured her wine himself, but the servant, who was actually Arakasi, accomplished the service before him. His manner showed no trace of distrust, but Mara knew he would never let his mistress accept any cup touched by a vassal of the Minwanabi. Aware, suddenly, that Bruli had ceased talking, Mara flashed him a brilliant smile. Then, almost shyly, she lowered her eyes and pretended intent interest. His conversation seemed trivial, concerning people and events of seemingly little consequence. But she listened to the gossip of the court and cities as if the subjects fascinated her, and she laughed at Bruli’s attempts at wit. Arakasi directed the house slaves, who came and went with trays of wine-soaked fruit. As Bruli’s breath smelled more and more strongly of spirits, his tongue loosened, and his laughter boomed across the garden. Once or twice he rested his fingers lightly on Mara’s wrist, and though she was not in the least bit intoxicated, his gentleness sent a thrill through her body. Idly she wondered whether Nacoya was right and there was more to love between man and woman that Buntokapi’s rough handling had shown.

  But her inner barriers stayed raised. Though to Mara the act was laughable, so awkward did she feel in the role of seductress, the detached observer within her noted that Bruli seemed entranced. His gaze never left her. Once, as she waved Arakasi back to pour more wine, the front of her robe parted slightly. As Nacoya had advised, she hesitated before closing the gap. Bruli’s lashes widened, and his pretty eyes seemed nailed t
o the slight swell of bosom revealed. How odd, she thought, that a man so handsome should be moved by such a thing. He must have had many women; why should another not bore him? But Nacoya’s wisdom was ancient. Mara followed her adviser’s lead and a little later allowed her hem to creep upward slightly.

  Bruli stumbled over his words. Smiling, sipping wine to hide his clumsiness, he still could not help staring at the slowly increasing expanse of her thigh.

  Nacoya had been right; testing further, Mara said, ‘Bruli, I must beg your leave to retire. But I hope you will have time to return to us in’ – she pouted, as if thought were very difficult for her, then smiled – ‘say, two days.’ She rose with all the grace she could muster, artfully allowing her robe to fall more open than before. Bruli’s colour deepened. To Mara’s gratification, he returned an emphatic assurance that he would return upon her pleasure. Then he sighed, as if two days seemed a long period.

  Mara left the garden, aware that he watched her until she disappeared into the shadows of the house. Nacoya waited at the first door, the glint in her eyes revealing that she had observed the entire hour’s conversation.

  ‘Do all men have their brains between their legs?’ Mara inquired. Frowning, she compared Bruli’s behaviour to what she remembered of her father’s stern manner and her brother’s rakish charm.

  Nacoya hustled her mistress briskly away from the screen. ‘Most, thank the gods.’ Pausing before the door to Mara’s quarters, she added, ‘Mistress, women have few means to rule their own lives. You have the rare fortune to be a Ruling Lady. The rest of us live at the whim of our lords or husbands or fathers, and what you have just practised is the mightiest weapon at our command. Fear the man who doesn’t desire a woman, for he will see you only as a tool or a foe.’ Almost gloatingly, she patted Mara’s shoulder. ‘But our young calley bird is smitten, I think, as much as working on his father’s behalf. Now I will hurry to reach him in the outer courtyard before he takes his leave. I have a few suggestions on how he may win you.’

  Mara watched the old woman hurry energetically away, hairpins leaning precariously to the left. Shaking her head at the follies of life, she wondered what Nacoya would advise this silly young suitor from the Kehotara. Then she decided she would consider that in a hot tub. This display of womanly charms for the purpose of inflaming Bruli had left her feeling slightly soiled.

  • Chapter Thirteen •

  Seduction

  The boy’s eyes opened wide.

  Seated on his mat before the outer screen, the runner turned towards his mistress with a wondering look upon his face. The boy was new to his post, and Mara guessed his expression portended an impressive arrival in the dooryard. She dismissed the new warriors, both recruited only that morning. They took their bows, and as a servant arrived to show them to their barracks, Mara inquired of her runner, ‘Is it Bruli of the Kehotara?’

  Young and still easily impressed, the slave boy nodded quickly. Mara stretched briefly and arose from amid stacks of parchments and tallies. Then she, too, stared in amazement. Bruli approached the great house in an ornate litter, obviously new, with ribbons of pearl and shell inlay gleaming in the morning sunlight. He had dressed in silk robes, bordered in elaborate embroidery, and his head covering was set with tiny sapphires, to enchance the colour of his eyes. Kehotara vanity did not end there. As if watching a pageant from a child’s tale, Mara noticed that his litter bearers were uniformly matched in height and physical perfection; with none of the ragged, beaten look of toil, these slaves were like young gods, tall and muscular, with bodies oiled like athletes. A full dozen musicians accompanied the Kehotara honour guard. They played well and loudly upon horns and vielles as Bruli made his entrance.

  Bemused, Mara waved for a servant to tidy the scrolls, while Misa helped her refresh her appearance. Nacoya had been up to her own machinations. On his last three visits the Acoma First Adviser had fended the boy off, warning of her mistress’s impatience with a suitor who did not display his wealth as a sign of ardour. Twice Bruli had dined in the garden, Mara again feeling like a piece of meat on display at a butcher’s stall. But each time she laughed at some stupid joke or feigned surprise at some revelation about one or another Lord in the High Council, Bruli was genuinely pleased. He seemed totally infatuated with her. At their last meeting, Mara had briefly allowed him to express his passion with a parting kiss, deftly disentangling herself from his embrace as his hands closed around her shoulders. He had called out an entreaty, but she ducked through the doorway, leaving him aroused and confused in the dappled moonlight of the garden. Nacoya had seen him to his litter, then returned with the certainty that the young man’s frustration served to fan his desire.

  Scented and wearing tiny bells on her wrists, Mara slipped into a shamelessly scanty robe – where was Nacoya finding them, she wondered. Misa patted her mistress’s hair into place and fastened it with pins of emerald and jade. Then, her appearance complete, Mara left with mincing steps to greet her suitor.

  When at last she appeared, Bruli’s eyes widened with glowing admiration. He stepped somewhat awkwardly from his litter, his back stiff and his weight centred carefully over his sandals. Mara had to suppress a laugh; his costly robes and headdress were obviously heavy and uncomfortable. The ties on the sleeves looked as if they pinched mightily, and the wide belt with its coloured stitching surely was constricting and hot. Yet Bruli bore up with every appearance of enjoying himself. He smiled brilliantly at Mara and allowed her to lead him into the cool shadow of the estate house.

  Seated in a room overlooking the garden with its fountain, Mara called for wine with fruit and pastries. As always, Bruli’s conversation bored her; but at his usual post by the wine tray Arakasi gleaned some useful bits of information. The Spy Master had connected several of Bruli’s remarks to things already learned by his agents. Mara never ceased to be astonished at the information her Spy Master was able to divine from seemingly trivial gossip. In private talks that followed Bruli’s visits, Arakasi had fashioned some interesting theories about activities in the High Council. If his speculation was correct, very soon the Blue Wheel Party would unilaterally withdraw from the war upon the barbarian world. The Warlord’s grandiose campaign would be seriously hampered. Should this occur, the Anasati, the Minwanabi, and Almecho’s other allies would certainly be pressured by demands for more support. Mara wondered if Jingu would step up his attempts to eliminate her before the Minwanabi were forced to turn their energies elsewhere.

  Bruli’s chatter faltered, and belatedly Mara realized she had lost the thread of his conversation. She filled in with an endearing smile, unaware that the expression made her strikingly pretty. Bruli’s eyes warmed in response. His emotion was entirely genuine, and for a moment Mara wondered how she would feel in his arms, compared to the unpleasantness she had endured with Buntokapi. Then Arakasi leaned to slap an insect, and his clothing jostled the wine tray. The unexpected movement caused Bruli to start, one hand flying to the dagger hidden in his sash. In an instant the solicitous suitor was transformed into a Tsurani warrior, all taut muscle and cold eyes. Mara’s moment of sentiment died. This man might be more civilized in his manner, more charming in his speech, more beautiful in body and face than the brute she had once married, but his heart was stern and commanding. Like Buntokapi, he would kill or cause pain on the impulse of the instant, without even pausing for thought.

  That recognition angered Mara, as if for an instant she had longed for something from this man; any man. That this longing was a vain hope roused an irrational instinct to fight back. Feigning discomfort from the heat, Mara fanned herself, then pulled her bodice open and exposed most of her breasts to Bruli’s view. The effect was immediate. The young man’s battle instincts relaxed, like the claws of a sarcat sheathed in softness. Another kind of tension claimed him, and he shifted closer to her.

  Mara smiled, a ruthless gleam in her eyes. The small bells on her wrist sang in perfect sevenths as she brushed the young man’s arm
with a seemingly casual touch. ‘I don’t know what is wrong with me, Bruli, but I find the warmth oppressive. Would you care to bathe?’

  The young man all but tore his finery in his haste to rise to his feet. He extended a hand to Mara, and she allowed him to raise her from the cushions without rearranging her clothing. Her robe gaped further, and Bruli caught a teasing glimpse of small but nicely formed breasts and the hint of a taut stomach. Mara smiled as she noted the focus of his attention. With slow, provocative movements, she rebound her sash, while small beads of perspiration sparkled into being beneath Bruli’s headdress. ‘You look very hot,’ she observed.

  The young man regarded her with unfeigned adoration. ‘I am always aflame with passion for you, my Lady.’

  This time Mara encouraged his boldness. ‘Wait here one moment,’ she said and, smiling in open invitation, stepped out to find Nacoya.

  The old woman sat just out of sight behind the screen, a piece of embroidery in her lap. Mara noticed incongruously that the stitches were remarkably incoherent. Grateful to see that her First Adviser required no explanation of what had passed in the chamber by the garden, she relayed swift instructions.

  ‘I think we have our young jigabird cock ready to crow. Order the bath drawn. When I dismiss the attendants, allow us fifteen minutes alone. Then send in my runner with a message coded urgent, and have Misa ready.’ Mara paused, a flash of uncertainty showing through. ‘You did say she admired the man?’

  Nacoya returned a regretful shake of her head. ‘Ah, daughter, do not worry for Misa. She likes men.’

  Mara nodded and started to return to her suitor. But Nacoya touched her wrist, the chime of tiny bells muffled in her wrinkled palm. ‘Lady, be cautious. Your house guards will see to your safety, but you play a dangerous game. You must judge carefully how far to push Bruli. He may become too impassioned to stop, and having Pape kill him for attempted rape would do the Acoma great harm at this point.’