Mara judged his character to be complex and deep. She found it astonishing that such a man could be a common soldier, and wondered if others with like potential lay undiscovered among her warriors.
Kevin said something, disturbing her contemplation.
Mara smiled indulgently. 'What did you say?'
C.aught up by a thought, he mused, 'What strange,]
contrasts your world has.'
Brought to alertness by his uncharacteristic intonation, Mara focused her attention. 'What troubles you?'
'Are my thoughts so transparent?' Kevin shrugged in partial embarrassment. He remained silent for a moment, then added, 'I was thinking of the poor quarter in SulanQu.'
But why?' Mara frowned. She attempted to reassure him.
'You will never be permitted to starve.'
'Starve?' Surprise made Kevin pause. He drew a fast breath, then stared at her, as if he might fathom her woman's mind by studying her intently. At last, moved to some inner conclusion, he admitted, 'Never in my life have I seen people suffering in such numbers.'
'But you must have poor folk in the Kingdom of the Isles,'
Mara returned without inflection. 'How else do your gods show their displeasure at man's behaviour than by returning him to his next life in low estate?'
Kevin stiffened. 'What do the gods have to do with starving children, disease, and cruelty? And what of the righteousness of good works and charity ? Have you no alms in this land or are all Tsurani nobles born cruel?'
Mara shoved herself upright, spilling cushions across the waxed floor. 'You are a strange man,' she observed in a voice that hid a note of panic. As often as she had bent tradition, she had never questioned the gods' omnipotence.
To dare that heresy was to invite utter destruction. Mara realized that other nobles might be less firm in their adherence to their ancestors' faith, but she herself was devout; had fate not destined her for the ruler's mantle, she would have dedicated herself to a life of contemplative service to the goddess Lashima. The ultimate truth was that the gods decreed the order of the Empire. To question this was to undermine the very concept of honour that was the foundation of Tsurani society. It was this divine mandate that imparted order to the Empire and made sense of everything, from the certainty of ultimate reward for honourable service, and the right of nobles to rule, to constraints in the Game of the Council so that wholesale carnage never resulted.
With one careless remark, the barbarian had challenged the very fabric of Tsurani beliefs.
Mara clung to her poise, inwardly battered by a host of alarming implications. The pleasures Kevin brought her could never compensate for the dangerous new bent of his thoughts. He must not be allowed to speak such blasphemous idiocy, especially not within Ayaki's hearing; the boy had grown to dote upon Kevin, and the future Lord of the Acoma's resolve as he led his house to greatness must never be shaken by uncertainties. To conquer the might of other families because the gods looked favourably upon such efforts was one thing; to vainly think accolades came solely through wit and skill, and some random factor of luck was ... was morally destructive and unthinkable.
Cornered, with only one option, the Lady of the Acoma chose her course.
'Leave me,' she said sharply. She arose at once from her bed and brusquely clapped for servants. Although the sun had not yet risen, and the screens were still closed for the night, two maids and a manservant answered her summons.
'Dress me at once,' the Lady commanded. One maid rushed to select a robe, while the other took up brush and comb to attend to her mistress's tangles. The manservant tidied the scattered cushions and adjusted the screens. The fact that Kevin got in his way seemed not to faze him.
Wizened and old, and ingrained in the habit of his duties, he went about straightening up the chamber as though he were deaf.
Mara slipped her arms into the rose-coloured silken robe the maid held up for her. She turned and saw Kevin standing naked, his breeches and shirt across his arm, and dumbfounded look on his face. The Lady's expression remained stern, her dark eyes fathomless and hard. 'Jican tells me that the work clearing the forest for my needra field goes slowly. This is mostly owing to your countrymen, who complain and malinger over their appointed share of work The maid with the comb lifted the hair from Mara's nap and began expertly piling it into an elaborately knona headdress. Mara continued