unseemly display. But the moment she had longed for, that at times had seemed elusive as a dream, overwhelmed her resolve. Kevin acted the role of body servant to perfection, lifting aside the hanging and offering his free hand to Mara. His steadiness allowed her to recover decorum as she stepped onto her native soil at last.
She had to wait, as befitted her rank, for the party by the gate to approach her. The delay was torture, and her eyes drank in details. Keyoke had mastered his crutch. He moved with barely a hitch in stride despite his missing leg, and Mara exulted in her pride for him. Nacoya had not aged so smoothly, but had acquired a slight limp. Mara smothered an impulse to rush and offer an arm; the First Adviser would never forgive such a breech of manners over something as trivial as an aching hip. Lastly, in tingling aprehension, Mara dared a look at the boy who strode resolutely toward her, head held high, back straight, and chin outward. He was so tall and rangy!
Mara's throat tightened as she took in his child's armour, the miniature sword at his side, the helm he lifted from ink black hair with the bearing of a perfect little Acoma warrior.
Her child had grown nearly twice the size she remembered on her departure.
With rehearsed dignity, Ayaki completed the bow of son to mother. He spoke out, his child's treble carrying solemnly over the ranks of still warriors. 'I bid welcome to the Lady of the Acoma. We are a hundred times blessed by the good gods for her safe return to our home.'
Mara's resistance crumbled. She knelt before her son and suddenly the boy's arms were around her neck, hugging fiercely enough to crumple her fine silks. 'I missed you, mummy,' the boy quavered into her hair.
Moisture trembled in Mara's eyes as she answered, though somehow she kept her voice firm. 'I have missed you, my little soldier. More than you can ever know.'
Standing with pursed lips to one side, Nacoya allowed mother and son a moment of public indiscretion before pointedly clearing her throat. 'The entire House of Acoma waits to welcome our mistress. So gladdened were our hearts at news of your triumph, that this prayer gate was erected to honour your victory. We trust it pleases you, Lady.'
Mara raised her face from Ayaki and examined the brilliant panels of the prayer gate, each one carved and painted with the icons of the felicitous gods. Chochocan, the Good God, seemed to smile directly upon her, while Hantukama, the Bringer of Blessed Health, spread his hands in benediction toward her army. Juran the Just beamed down from the crest of the crossbar, as if in blessing of those about to pass through. Lashima the Wise seemed to gaze with affection at one who almost had been committed to her service. The artisans had done superlative work, and the figures seemed charged with divine wisdom; but the allure of the images quickly palled. Mara took in the familiar faces of servants and soldiers, advisers and friends, then glanced back to Kevin, who returned his barbaric wide smile. Lost in a daze of happiness, she answered her waiting First Adviser.
'Yes, Nacoya, I am pleased.' She gave the son at her side another squeeze and added, 'Let us return to the house of my ancestors.'
Despite the fatigue from a long journey home, Mara's spirits soared as tine' night fell. The grounds of her family estate were decked out in grand celebration, coloured lanterns hanging from the trees in all the gardens, and bright bunting festooning the rails of the central entrance. Candles flickered in courtyards, porticoes, and halls. Strings of tiny bells, strung from every doorway and screen, chimed sweet melodies in thanks for the gods' blessings with each person's passage. Hired musicians from Sulan-Qu added their melodies to those played by performers under Acoma patronage, and song rang gaily across the grounds. Everyone, free workers, guests, and advisers, danced to celebrate Acoma triumph. Maids and serving girls laughed as they waited upon victorious soldiers, who regaled them with tales of the campaign against the desert men. In time-honoured Tsurani fashion, the warriors were modest about their own achievements, but lavished accolades upon one another; to a man they praised the daring tactics that had reversed a bitter defeat into a brilliant victory. What their Lady had done in the Game of the Council she had accomplished on the