The Complete Empire Trilogy

by Raymond E. Feist

  That by itself was ominous. Tasaio’s cleverness had nearly brought the Acoma to ruin in the first place, and recovery was too recent to withstand another major setback.

  As the litter rounded the last curve on the approach to the estate house, Mara felt apprehension that this summons from her Force Commander resulted from a move instigated by Tasaio. The man was too good, too subtle, and too ambitious to stay a minor player in her enemies’ ranks. Had she been Desio, she would have put the entire conflict with the Acoma into Tasaio’s hands.

  ‘What did you see that made you wonder?’ Kevin inquired of Ayaki. The two of them had been instant friends since the morning the boy had tried to instruct the huge barbarian in the correct manner of lacing Tsurani sandals, even though he really didn’t know himself. The barbarian’s winning over the boy had given him some added protection against Mara’s anger at his having put hands upon her. As she came to know Kevin, she found herself developing something resembling affection for him, despite his outrageous behaviour and a total lack of civility.

  ‘Funny smell!’ shouted Ayaki, for whom enthusiasm was measured in decibels.

  ‘You can’t see a smell,’ Kevin protested. ‘Though I admit the cho-ja’s hole reeked like a spice grinder’s shed.’

  ‘Why?’ Ayaki thumped his chubby fist on Kevin’s crown for emphasis. ‘Why?’

  Kevin caught the boy’s ankles and flipped him off his shoulders in a somersault. ‘I suppose because they’re insects – bugs.’

  Ayaki, upside down and turning red with pleasure, said, ‘Bugs don’t talk. They bite. Nurse swats them.’ He paused, dangling his hands downward and rolling his eyes. ‘She swats me, too.’

  ‘Because you talk too much,’ Kevin suggested. ‘And the cho-ja are intelligent and strong. If you tried to swat one, it would squish you.’

  Ayaki howled denial, claiming he’d swat any cho-ja before they could squish him, then howled again as the barbarian slave tossed him and restored him upright into the arms of his disapproving nurse. The retinue had reached the estate house. The bearers squatted to lower Mara’s litter, and the soldiers who accompanied her on even the most innocuous errands stood smartly at attention. Lujan appeared on station to help the Lady to her feet, while Jican offered a deep bow by the doorway. ‘Arakasi awaits with Keyoke in your study, my Lady.’

  Mara nodded abstractedly, mostly because Ayaki’s retreating noise still foiled conversation. She tipped her head at the bearer who carried new silk samples and said, ‘Follow.’ Then she paused, considering. After a moment she glanced to Kevin. ‘You too.’

  The barbarian bit back an impulse to ask what the topic of conversation would be. Since his assignment to the Lady’s personal retinue, he had met most of Mara’s advisers, but the Spy Master was an unknown. Always when he delivered his reports, Mara had sent her body servant off on some task that would occupy him elsewhere. Curious what could have made her change her mind, Kevin had acquired enough sense of Acoma politics to presume the reason would be significant, even threatening. The more he observed, the more he understood that behind the Lady’s poised assurance lay fears that would have crumbled a lesser spirit. And despite his anger at being treated as little more than a talking pet, he had grudgingly come to admire her steely toughness. Regardless of age or sex, Mara was a remarkable woman, an opponent to be feared and a leader to be obeyed.

  Kevin stepped into the dim hallway, following the Lady. Unobtrusively Lujan accompanied, a proper full step ahead of the slave. The Strike Leader would stand guard at the study door throughout the meeting, not only to protect his mistress, but to ascertain no servant lingered in the corridor to eavesdrop. Even though Arakasi had exhaustively scrutinized every domestic who worked in the estate house, he still urged Mara to take precautions. Seemingly loyal servants had been known to sink to dishonour and succumb to bribes, and a ruler who was slack in security habits invited betrayal. Warriors sworn to service and ranking advisers could be trusted, but those who picked fruit in the orchards and tended flowers in the garden could serve any master.

  The screens were drawn in the study, making the air more damp and close. The Force Commander’s plumed helm showed as a shadow in the dimness; Keyoke sat with the patience of a weathered carving on the cushions before the shut screen. His scabbarded weapon rested across his knees, sure sign that he had spent the interval while he waited for his mistress inspecting the blade for flaws that only his eyes could discern – if not cared for, Tsurani blades of cured hide could delaminate, leaving a warrior disarmed.

  Mara nodded curt greeting, shed her outer robe, and loosened her sash. Kevin tried not to stare as she tugged the thin silk of her lounging robe from her sticky skin. Despite his care, his groin swelled in response to the sight of her bare breasts. In surreptitious embarrassment he hitched at the inadequate hem of his slave livery to hide the result. As often as he reminded himself that concepts of modesty differed here from those of his native Midkemia, he could not become accustomed to the casual near nudity adopted by the Kelewanese women as a consequence of the climate. So involved was he in trying to curb the involuntary response of his body that he barely noted Mara’s words as she waved away her maidservant and sat.

  ‘What do you have to report?’

  Keyoke inclined his head. ‘There has been a raid, a very minor one, launched by the Minwanabi against a thyza caravan.’

  Mara pushed back a loosened strand of hair, quiet a moment before she said, ‘Then the attack came as Arakasi’s agent predicted?’

  Again Keyoke inclined his head. ‘Even the numbers of the soldiers were accurate. Mistress, I don’t like the smell of the event. It appears to have no strategic relevance at all.’

  ‘And how you hate loose ends,’ Mara concluded for him. ‘I presume the Minwanabi soldiers were routed?’

  ‘Killed, to a man,’ Keyoke amended. His dry tone reflected little satisfaction at the victory. ‘One company less to harry our borders, if Desio chooses a war. But it’s the ineptness of the attack that troubles me. The warriors died like men sworn to honourable suicide, not those bent on taking an objective.’

  Mara bit her lip, her expression darkening. ‘What do you think?’ she said into the shadows.

  Something moved there in response, and Kevin started slightly. He looked more closely and made out the slender form seated motionless, with folded hands. The fellow’s uncanny stillness had caused Kevin to overlook him until now. His voice was dry as a whisper, yet somehow conveyed the emphasis of a loud expostulation. ‘Lady, I can offer you little insight. As yet I have no agent who is privy to Desio’s private councils. He discusses his intentions only with his First Adviser, Incomo, and his cousin Tasaio. The First Adviser is, of course, not given to gossip or drink, and Tasaio confides in no one, even the warrior who was his childhood mentor. Given the circumstances, we do well to know that the agents we have are reporting accurately.’

  ‘Then what is your surmise?’

  Silent a long moment, Arakasi replied, ‘Tasaio is in command, I would wager. He has a mind as devious and keen as any I’ve encountered. He served Lord Jingu well in the obliteration of the Tuscai.’ All, save Kevin, knew the fallen house was the one Arakasi served before coming to Mara’s service. ‘Tasaio is a very sharp sword in his master’s hands. But working under his own direction … it is hard to judge what he would do. I think Tasaio probes. His warriors could have been ordered to die so that he might test something about House Acoma. I judge it a gambit.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘If we knew, mistress, we would be planning counter-measures, instead of pondering possibilities.’

  Mara paused through a tense moment. ‘Arakasi, is it possible we have a spy in our own ranks?’

  Kevin watched in curiosity as the Acoma Spy Master subsided once more into stillness. Close scrutiny revealed that the man had a knack for arranging himself in a fashion that caused him to blend with his surroundings. ‘Lady, since the day I swore oath on your natami, I have instiga
ted diligent checks. I know of no traitor in our midst.’

  The Lady made a frustrated gesture. ‘But why attack a thyza caravan between the estate and Sulan-Qu, unless somebody guesses what plans we have afoot? Arakasi, our next grain shipment is to conceal our new silk samples. If that was information the Minwanabi sought to discover, our troubles might be grave indeed. Our cho-ja silk must take the merchants at the auctions by surprise. Revenue and standing will be lost if our secret is discovered beforehand.’

  Arakasi inclined his head, conveying both agreement and assurance. ‘The raid by Desio’s soldiers might have been coincidence, but I concur with you. We dare not presume so. Most likely he probes to discover why we arm our caravans so heavily.’

  ‘Why not give them a red herring?’ offered Kevin.

  ‘Herring?’ snapped Keyoke with impatience. By this time, Mara’s Force Commander had grown resigned to the barbarian’s out-of-turn remarks; he could not be made to think like a slave, and the Lady at some point, and for reasons of her own, had decided not to enforce protocol. But Arakasi and the Midkemian had never encountered each other previously, and the impertinence came as a surprise.

  The Spy Master’s eyes glinted in the shadows as he looked at the tall man who stood behind Mara’s shoulder. Never one to entangle his intellect with preconceptions, he discarded both the man’s rank and his insolence as irrelevant, and fastened what proved to be an almost frighteningly intense interest upon the concept behind Kevin’s suggestion. ‘You use a word for a species of fish, but imply something very different.’

  ‘A ruse of sorts.’ Kevin accompanied his explanation with his usual expansive gestures. ‘If something is to be hidden in a thyza shipment, confuse the enemy by burying wrapped and sealed packages in every wagon that carries goods. Then the enemy must either spread his resources thin and intercept all outgoing caravans, and thereby make plain his intentions, or else abandon the attempt.’

  Arakasi blinked very fast, like a hawk. His thoughts moved faster still. ‘And the silk samples would be in none of these shipments,’ he concluded, ‘but concealed somewhere else, perhaps even in plain sight, where silks might ordinarily be in evidence.’

  Kevin’s eyes lit up. ‘Precisely. Perhaps you could sew them as the lining of robes, or maybe even as a separate shipment of scarves.’

  ‘The concept is sound,’ Mara said, and Arakasi nodded tacit agreement. ‘We could even have servants wear under-robes of the fine silk beneath their usual travelling robes.’

  That moment, someone outside knocked insistently at the screen. Arakasi faded into his corner as if by reflex, and Mara called an inquiry.

  The screen whipped back to admit the dishevelled Acoma First Adviser in a red-faced state of agitation. Keyoke settled back on his cushions and loosened his tense hand from his sword hilt as Nacoya descended upon her mistress, scolding even as she made her obligatory bow.

  ‘My Lady, just look at your clothes!’ The former nurse turned her eyes heavenward in despair.

  Surprised, Mara glanced at her lounging robe, draped open in the heat, and showing dust about the collar from her earlier visit to the cho-ja hive.

  ‘And your hair!’ Nacoya ranted on, now shaking a wizened finger in reproach. ‘A mess! All tangles, when it should be shiny-clean and scented. We’re going to need a dozen maids, at least.’ Then, as if noticing Keyoke’s and Arakasi’s presence at the same time, she clucked in renewed affront. ‘Out!’ she cried. ‘Your mistress must be made presentable very quickly.’

  ‘Nacoya!’ Mara snapped. ‘What gives you cause to descend upon my private council and order my officers about like house staff? And why is the matter of my personal appearance suddenly so urgent?’

  Nacoya stiffened like a stung jigabird. ‘By Lashima most holy, Lady, how could you forget? How could you?’

  ‘Forget?’ Mara shoved back a fallen strand of hair in honest confusion. ‘Forget what?’

  Nacoya huffed, speechless at last. Arakasi intervened very gently and answered for her. ‘The little grandmother most likely refers to Hokanu of the Shinzawai, whose retinue I passed on the road from Sulan-Qu.’

  The Acoma First Adviser now recovered poise with acerbity. ‘That young gentleman’s letter of inquiry has sat on your desk for a week, my Lady. You answered him with an acceptance, and now you offer him insult by not being ready to greet him upon his arrival.’

  Mara used a word not at all in keeping with her station. This brought another squawk from Nacoya and an outright grin from Kevin, whose command of Tsurani obscenities had been learned from a particularly colourful slave driver and remained his most comprehensive vocabulary.

  Nacoya vented her frustration by clapping sharply for Mara’s bath attendants. Through the resulting pandemonium as slave girls descended with basins and towels, and armloads of fine jewelled clothing, Mara dismissed her Force Commander. While three sets of hands removed her clothing, she fought one wrist free and gestured at the bundled silk samples brought from the cho-ja hive. ‘Arakasi, decide what to do with these. Jican will tell you when they’re due to arrive at Jamar. Contrive some subterfuge to get them there unnoticed.’

  The Spy Master returned an unobtrusive bow and departed with the bundle. Kevin remained. Forgotten in his place behind his mistress’s cushions, he spent the next minute being tantalized by the sight of Mara standing in her tub while her servants poured hot water over her lithe body. Then she sat slowly, gracefully. While she rested in the tub, her woman servants soaping her down and washing her hair, Kevin repeatedly caught glimpses of nude flesh. Motionless in the corner, he inwardly cursed the inadequate coverage of his brief Tsurani garment, as the sight of his pretty young mistress caused his manhood to rise up again in appreciation. Like an embarrassed kitchen boy, he stood with both hands folded before his groin and tried to focus on unpleasant thoughts to bring his unruly body back under control.

  When the Lady of the Acoma emerged at speed from the attentions of her maids and bath servants, Kevin followed in his accustomed place, mostly because no one in authority had bothered to tell him otherwise. Jewelled, primped, and clad in a fine overrobe sewn with seed pearls and emeralds, Mara was far too agitated to note the barbarian slave who had been a part of her retinue for almost a month now. She swept through the hallways with a frown pinching the skin between her eyebrows. Kevin, grown familiar enough to guess at her moods, determined that this Hokanu of the Shinzawai came for something outside the usual social visit. In many ways, Mara preferred involved financial discussions with her hadonra to meeting the social obligations that fell to her as ruler of a time-honoured Tsurani house.

  At Nacoya’s furiously whispered reminder, Mara slowed her step before the entry to the enclosed courtyard, which at this hour was the coolest place in which to make a guest comfortable. The First Adviser patted her charge’s wrist and delivered last-minute instructions. ‘Be charming with this man, daughter of my heart, but do not underestimate his perception. He is no importunate boy like poor Bruli, to be swayed by the follies of romance, and you have certainly offended him by keeping him waiting.’

  Mara nodded distractedly and shed the protective Nacoya. With Kevin still on her heels, she stepped out into the dappled shade of the courtyard.

  Cushions had been laid by the fountain, and a tray with refreshments close by. Both appeared untouched. At Mara’s entrance, a slim, well-muscled man paused between steps in what must by now have been the last of a dozen restless tours along the garden pathways. He wore blue silk sewn with topaz and rubies, robes obviously tailored for the son of a powerful family. Now more practised at reading Tsurani inscrutability, Kevin did not look at the handsome but expressionless face for enlightenment; instead he checked the hands, which were well formed and strongly sword-callused. He noted the slight spring in the stride as the young man turned to greet the Lady, and also noted the tenseness in carriage that conclusively betrayed annoyance.

  Still, the voice emerged pleasantly tempered. ‘Lady Mara, I am pleas
ed. Are you well?’

  Mara swept him a bow, her jewels flashing in stray flecks of sunlight through the leaves. ‘Hokanu of the Shinzawai, I am well enough to know better. You are irked at my tardiness, and for that I plead no excuses.’ She stood upright, the top of her forehead barely level with his chin. To meet his dark eyes, she had to tilt her head up in a manner that, entirely without artifice, made her stunning. ‘What can the Acoma do but ask your forgiveness?’ Mara paused with a disarmingly sheepish smile. ‘Quite simply, I forgot what time it was.’

  For a second, Hokanu looked outraged. Then, obviously at a loss before the Lady’s appeal, and taken by the fact she had not lied to him, his teeth flashed in a burst of honest laughter. ‘Mara, you confound me! Were you a warrior, I should be trading sword blows with you. As it is, I can only note that you owe me a debt. I’ll claim your company as my compensation.’

  Mara stepped forward and allowed him a briefly formal embrace. ‘Maybe I should have met you at the door in the crumpled robe I wore to council,’ she suggested wickedly.

  Hokanu continued to grip her hand in a manner Kevin interpreted as possessive. The young man’s ability to conceal his eagerness behind a façade of astonishing grace annoyed the Midkemian slave, although he could not have said why. When the nobleman responded to the Lady’s quip with another laugh, saying, ‘Do that next time,’ Kevin found himself scowling.

  Normally Mara was quick-witted, and assertive when dealing with her male staff and those few state visitors Kevin had observed during his tenure as her body servant. With Hokanu, her wit became less acerbic, and the spirit he had grudgingly come to admire became obscured by inexplicable diffidence. Mara seemed guarded against showing pleasure as she allowed the young warrior to settle her down on the cushions; plainly she found the young man’s company enjoyable. With submissive courtesy she called Kevin to serve food and drink. Hokanu accepted a dish of spirit-soaked fruits and a goblet of sa wine. His dark eyes flicked with interest over the Midkemian. Kevin momentarily felt inspected inside and out, like merchandise; then the nobleman turned teasingly to Mara.