halt; Incomo's shrewdness rescued the issue from stalemate. 'I wonder how Tecuma views Lady Mara's brilliant victory.'
Given the cue he had sought for, Jiro gave the skinny old Adviser a polite nod. 'We Anasati find ourselves bound to a difficult course, since blood relation to Mara's heir forces adherence to goals that occasionally align with Acoma interests.'
'Go on,' Incomo encouraged, with a sidewise glower at his master to recall courtesy and offer refreshments. Desio complied with a sulky wave.
Jiro accepted a fruit drink, the same variety the Minwanabi Lord had chosen. He took a sip, shook back burnished brown hair, and stared off into the distance.
'That such condition should endure is unnatural, of course.'
His manner turned disarmingly offhand. 'I share concern for my nephew, well enough, but let me speak forthrightly.'
He delayed for another drink until Desio once again leaned raptly forward on his cushions. Jiro resumed. 'Ayaki's mother has too few friends to warrant such a dangerous course for the Anasati.' He allowed a suggestive pause. 'So if harm comes to my nephew, I would understand. My father is less given to bending with the whims of fate, but my brother and I see things differently
Here Incomo had to touch his master's arm to remind the young Lord not to show his interest; but where Mara's name was at issue, tact was lost on Desio. 'If fate should remove a nephew from this life-,
Fine crystal clanged and raised echoes as Jiro set down his glass. The dogs whined in unison, as if they sensed tension in the air. 'I must correct you,' the Anasati son said coldly. 'My brother and I honour our father as dutiful and loving sons.
As long as Tecuma lives, his wishes are to be obeyed instantly!'
His emphasis word made clear beyond doubt: Jiro was not dissembling. If his father so ordered, he would fight and even die in Mara's defence. 'Bus,' Jiro qualified delicately, 'should the woman come to misfortune, and the boy survive, my Lord father need not be bound to reprisal.'
Desio's eyebrows rose. He looked at his guest, and saw in Jiro an abiding, bitter anger. A thought struck him, and he leaned toward Incomo. 'He really hates the bitch, do you see?'
The Minwanabi First Adviser gave a fractional nod. 'A personal feud, it would appear. Go softly. I would hazard the boy is here without his father's knowledge.'
Trying to sound disinterested, Desio spoke around a mouthful of sweet roll. 'Your ideas are intriguing, but not feasible. My house has sworn oath to the Red God, that the Acoma bloodline must perish.'
Jiro took a slice of cold meat. He did not eat, but fingered the morsel thoughtfully. 'I had heard of your vow of sacrifice. Of course, if Mara were dead, and her natami were broken and buried, the little heir would be a Lord with no resources.' He tore his titbit in two with his nails. 'Lacking a house and loyal warriors, Ayaki would have only his father's family to shelter him. Perhaps he would be called to swear loyalty to the name of Anasati.'
So this was the ploy that had brought Jiro into the house of an enemy! Desio considered, searching for duplicity in his guest. 'The boy would swear?'
Jiro twisted on his cushions and tossed the meat toward the dogs. Obedient to command, they did not arise, but snapped the snack out of the air with a clash of strong jaws.
'Ayaki is a boy. He must do as his grandfather and uncles instruct. As Lord of the Acoma, he can release anyone from house loyalty, including himself. Should he bow to the Anasati natami, Acoma blood would cease to exist. The Red God must be satisfied.'
'That is a bold presumption,' Incomo interjected. He looked askance at his Lord. 'Perhaps too bold.'
'But enjoyable conjecture, none the less.' Desio arose from his cushions. 'This discussion has its merits. Well, Jiro, should the gods look favourably upon the demise of Mara and her house . . . we will hope for the sake of goodwill that events transpire as you suggest.'
'For friendship's sake,' agreed Jiro, rising also, and taking his cue to depart. 'For it would be poor judgment for any house, no matter how mighty, to think they could bloody themselves upon the Acoma and emerge with strength enough to withstand my father's rage.'
Desio's face darkened so swiftly that Incomo almost could not rise fast enough to touch his master's sleeve. In a whisper he said, 'The point to