battlefield: make innovation her ally From his place at the mistress's shoulder, Kevin smiled indulgently at her beaming expression. Ayaki perched like a miniature soldier at his mother's right hand, determined to stay the course until the festivities ended, but battling drooping eyelids. He had been appointed 'defender of the House' in the army's absence, and though the real military orders came from Keyoke, the boy revealed a singleminded devotion that astonished his elders. Unfailingly he had turned out to oversee every change of patrol. Ayaki was much like his father in that regard; no matter what else might be recalled of Lord Buntokapi, none spoke ill of his sense of duty or bravery. But the excitement bested the boy, finally. His chin slowly lowered until he dozed against his mother's side.
Presuming to speak without being addressed, Kevin whispered, 'Should I carry the boy to bed?'
Mara stroked her son's soft cheek and shook her head.
'Let him stay.' Then, as if her own happiness made her sensitive to the needs of others, she said discreetly, 'Go say your greetings to your countrymen. You need not return until later.'
Kevin smothered a smile as he stepped through sumptuous piles of cushions and made his bow. The long journey from Dustari had permitted little privacy for Mara to consort with her body slave. Unlike the huge command tent on the field, with its many rooms, and the comings and goings of servants a matter beneath notice, the trader's galley which had borne them back across the Sea of Blood and up the River Gagajin had been too cramped to allow intimacy. As much as Kevin longed to visit his fellows, he ached for the moment he could return to Mara's side.
He might have won his mistress's lasting love, but Tsurani culture would never change; Kevin slipped from his Lady's hall with the briskness of a man dispatched on an errand.
Once outside the main house, he crossed the lighted grounds at a jog. His favour as Mara's lover would avail him nothing should Jican find him 'lazing about', with work to be done.
Kevin kept to the shadows, an easier task as he drew away from the kitchens and barracks; fewer lights burned in the servants' compound, and the slaves' quarters beyond were almost dark.
The music of the victory festivities seemed distant, too faint to make out a melody. Kevin stumbled over ruts in the packed earth until his eyes adjusted to the night. Left only a coppery half moon for guidance, he passed the outermost buildings and entered the cluster of board-walled shacks beyond. There were no trappings of gaiety here. Kevin felt his chest tighten as he noticed: the slave quarters might wear fresh whitewash for the celebration, but they were still only bare little huts. Seated on the ground before the doorways, clusters of ragged, dirty men shared the contents of several ceramic kettles. They ate their portion of the banquet given in Mara's honour with their hands, wolfing down each bit as if it might be their last meal.
One man noticed Kevin's approach and whispered, and instantly conversation broke off. All eyes turned from the food pots. Then someone commented in Midkemian that a body as tall as Kevin's could never be a Tsurani overseer; ye t another voice shouted through a hut's open doorway.
'I'll be damned! They haven't hanged you yet?' A laugh followed, and a bulky figure in a patched grey robe rushed outside to meet him. ~
Kevin returned the laugh and hugged the broadshouldered man, playfully rubbing his bald head. 'Patrick!
They haven't hanged you, either, I see.'
Patrick gave a wide grin. 'Not hardly, old son. I'm the only one who can keep this murderous crew in fine.' voice lowered to a whisper, he added, 'Or at least that's what we convinced the runts.'
Stiffly, Kevin broke off the embrace. For three years he had lived with only 'rums' and the derogatory term shocked the recognition that his view of the Tsurani had changed.
Now, confronted by the gaunt faces of his countrymen, he could not escape the fact that his perspective was unique.
Familiar features had changed, become suntanned and hard despite the smiles that welcomed the discovery that their liege lord's son still survived. Kevin surveyed the ragged gathering, his joy dampened further as he took stock of who was absent. 'Brandon and William of LaMut, where are they?' As if more men might be hidden within the dim doorways, Kevin cast about. 'Marcus, Stephen, and Henry.