Daughter of the Empire

by Raymond E. Feist

  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.'

  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 Bunto-kapi'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 dejay, and in an odd way she had not anticipated, her own loins had begun to tighten. The sensation frightened her, for Bun-tokapi'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 Minwan-abi, 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 orice 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 s
trut 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?'