Her Force Commander inclined his head in his usual wry fashion. 'I have already taken that liberty.'
Then, acting purely on instinct, Mara added, 'Ask our sentries to disarm. Now. At once.'
Lujan directed a suspicious glance at the approaching figures, then shrugged. 'Let us pray the gods are with us.
After Tasaio's performance yesterday, the clan chiefs will have small cause to love us.'
'That's just what I am hoping,' Mare said quickly.
She stood, a frown on her face, while Lujan carried out her wishes. All around the camp, Acoma soldiers removed their sword belts and laid their weapons flat upon the sand.
'You think these chiefs come as peace emissaries?' said a voice, Chipino's, still gruff from sleep. The Lord of the Xacatecas stepped up to Mara's side, his robe sash half-tied in his haste.
'That's what I am counting on,' Mara murmured.
'And if they are not?' Chipino prompted. He sounded dryly interested rather than worried.
And Mara smiled back. 'You guess right, my Lord, I am not without reservations. Lujan was told only to ask the sentries to disarm. The reserve troops, no doubt, are even at this moment being mustered into armour behind the cover of the command tent.'
Lujan stepped back into view from that very quarter, looking faintly sheepish. 'Someone has to keep a weather eye open for trouble,' he said cheerfully.
Then his levity faded, and he, too, looked southward, to where the seven small visitors paused by the still rows of sentries. The one in the lead, who wore the most beads, performed a flourishing salute.
'Let them pass,' called Lord Chipino. 'We are willing to parley.'
The sentries obediently parted, and without speech the desert men came through. They walked on short, bandy legs across the camp, looking neither to the right nor to the left.
Unerringly they proceeded until they reached the Lord and the Lady before the tent. They stopped, arrayed in a semicircle, and stared without speaking like sand-carved wooden icons, their beads swinging gently in the breeze.
'Send for an interpreter,' Lord Chipino said softly to one of Mara's servants. Then, taking the Lady's hand, he led her forward two measured paces. Together Lord and Lady inclined their heads. In the sign language of the desert tribes, they held forth opened hands, signifying suspension of hostilities.
At once the lead chieftain repeated his salute, which involved a series of gestures that framed his nose, mouth, and ears. He bowed, Empire style, his beads jouncing briskly on their fringes. Then, quite at odds with his precise movements, he broke into excited speech.
The interpreter, a rotund little fellow hired out of llama, had to hustle to arrive in time to catch the gist, for the desert man's onrushing babble abruptly ceased.
'What did he say?' Mara demanded, losing her poise to impatience.
The interpreter raised sandy eyebrows in a look of unfeigned surprise. He seemed to try the words out on his tongue once, to ascertain their validity before he answered.
'These are the Chiefs of the Seven Tribes of Dustari's northern desert, called the Winds of Sand, in their dialect.
They are here to swear enmity and blood debt against the man whom you know as Tasaio of the Minwanabi. Further, since the lands of Minwanabi are across the great sea, and warriors from the Winds of Sand may not travel within the Empire, these, the Chiefs of the Seven Tribes of the Winds of Sand, are here to ask an alliance between your tribes and theirs.'
Mara and Lord Chipino locked eyes in satisfaction. Then Mara inclined her head, granting the Lord of the Xacatecas his right to speak for them both. Lord Chipino gave answer, looking directly into the hot, dark eyes of the desert chief, and not waiting for the interpreter to keep up. 'Tell the Chiefs of the Winds of Sand,' he intoned, 'that our tribes would welcome such alliance. Further, our tribes of Acoma and Xacatecal will promise to send to the Chiefs of the Winds of Sand Tasaio's sword, as evidence that blood debt has been met and paid in full.' It was assumed the desert men would know enough of imperial custom to know the only way a warrior's sword could be acquired would be to take it from dead fingers. 'But if the Acoma and Xacatecas so swear to this alliance, they must have assurance upon clan honour that the tribes of the Winds of Sand will sign treaty with the Empire in Dustari. Raids upon the borderlands must stop, so that the Acoma and