Xacatecas may be free to pursue the tribe of Minwanabi and claim blood price. So that the tribes of the Winds of Sand need no reason to raid, we shall establish an outpOst that will be a free trading town for the tribes.' He smiled at Mara. 'It will be jointly administered by the Acoma.' Turning back to the chieftains, he said, 'Any traders seeking to cheat or rob our new allies will have to deal with the Xacatecas and the Acoma.'
The interpreter hastily caught up, and silence fell. The faces of the desert men stayed inscrutable for an interval.
Then the leader stamped his foot and spat upon the sand. He ejected one curt syllable, spun on his heel, and departed, the others falling in after him.
The interpreter, looking astounded, turned to Mara and Chipino. 'He said yes.'
Lord Xacatecas laughed in disbelief. 'Just like that?'
The interpreter returned a gesture betraying that he had desert blood somewhere in his ancestry. 'The Lord of the Seven Chiefs of the Winds of Sand spat water.'
When nobody's puzzlement cleared, he made a small sign of impatience. 'That is life oath, for a chief and all of his tribe. He, and his heirs, and all of his clansmen and relations would die by ritual starvation were any of the Winds of Sand to break trust. My Lord, my Lady, you have just concluded a treaty with the desert men more binding than any ever sealed in all the long history of the Empire.'
This took a second or two to sink in. When it did, Lord Chipino grinned delightedly. 'A worthy exchange for Tasaio's sword, I should think. Certainly that part of the bargain will not be a bother to carry out.'
Then Kevin whooped and caught Mara into a hug, and spun her around. 'You can go home,' he said delightedly.
'Home to your estate and Ayaki.'
Lujan stood bemused, scratching his chin, and Chipino, with characteristic dry irony, summed up. 'Our houses will receive recognition and honour from the Emperor himself for this. And Lord Desio will chew rocks when he finds out.'
Then, as if his own thoughts turned toward home,- he muttered, 'Isashani will be furious to know how much weight I have lost. Shall we retire to my command tent and share breakfast?'
Chapter 11 Realignment
The guard signalled.
Desio of the Minwanabi strode into the vast conference chamber, his nailed sandals striking the flagstone with a surprisingly loud snap. Incomo watched his master approach the dais, his broad hands stripping off his battle gloves, which he flung to the body servant who scurried to keep up. While still not the crafty schemer his father had been, nor as brilliant a strategist as his cousin, Desio now threw himself into the tasks he had avoided at the start of his rule.
Before his First Adviser could speak, the Lord shouted, 'Is it true?'
Incomo clutched the latest report tighter to his chest and nodded.
'Damn!' Still heated from his hour of exercise with his honour guard, the Lord of the Minwanabi vented his rage, hurling his helm with total disregard for rich furnishings and glass ornaments. The servant dived, but missed the catch; the helmet bounced across polished flooring, fortunately missing anything of value, skipping twice before it hammered against the far wall with enough force to mar its shiny finish.
The servant distastefully picked a path through a scattering of lacquer chips to effect a retrieval. Miserable as a whipped dog, he crept back to his lord's side, holding the battered helm.
But Desio was too intent on upbraiding his First Adviser to curse the servant for damage to his armour. 'You hold a report less than an hour from the boat and every servant and soldier knows the news before I do.' Desio stuck out a sweaty hand, impatiently raking damp hair from his eyes with the other.
Incomo surrendered the parchment, struck that the pudgy fingers he recalled in the boy were hardened to heavy calluses. The fat, self-indulgent youth who had sought to lose himself in drink and women had changed to a selfassured ruler. Desio was far from the ideal Tsurani warrior; but he now looked the part of a soldier, rather than a caricature of one.
Desio scanned the opening lines with narrowed eyes, flipped through pages still gritty with desert dust then, disgusted with the contents, tossed aside the stack. 'Tasaio is nothing if not thorough in admitting his failure.' His lips white with anger, the Lord sank heavily into the cushions he preferred