silk auction. While Mara could afford to be generous, this honour gift cut considerably into Acoma reserves. Jican was certain to become apoplectic when his mistress ordered the sum transferred to the wastrel Lord of the Tuscalora.
Jidu searched Mara's face. But study as he might, he saw nothing to indicate that she toyed with him. Her words were spoken sincerely. Considerably subdued, he said,'My Lady of the Acoma is generous.'
'The Lady of the Acoma strives to be fair,' Mara corrected. 'A weak ally is a drain, not a benefit. Go, and know that should you have need, the Acoma will answer your call, as we expect you to honour ours,' and she gracefully allowed him leave to withdraw.
No longer angered, but profoundly puzzled by his sudden shift in fortune, Jidu of the Tuscalora left the hall.
As the last of his blue-armoured guardsmen marched out, Mara abandoned her formal posture. She rubbed weary eyes and inwardly cursed her weariness. Months had passed since she sent Kevin off to oversee the crew clearing forests.
She still slept poorly at nights.
'My beautiful Lady, let me compliment you on your deft handling of a particularly vicious dog,' said Lujan with a respectful bow. 'Lord Jidu is now well collared, and he may only whine and snap at your command, but he dare not bite.'
Mara focused her attention with an effort. 'At least we won't need soldiers guarding that cursed needra bridge day and night after this.'
Keyoke burst into sudden laughter, to the astonishment of both Lujan and Mara, for the old soldier rarely showed pleasure.
'What?' said Mara.
'Your stated intention to strip our southern border had me concerned, my Lady.' The Force Commander shrugged.
~Until I understood that, without needing to patrol the Tuscalora side of our boundary, we have freed several companies to reinforce more critical defences. And with no further worries from the north, Lord Jidu can mount more vigilant defences on other fronts. We have effectively gained another thousand warriors to guard one larger estate.'
Nacoya joined in. 'And with your generous gift, daughter, Jidu can afford to ensure his men are properly armed and armoured, and that cousins can be called to serve to expand his army.'
Mara smiled at the approval. 'Which will be my first...
ah, "request" of my new vassal. His warriors are good, but they lack the numbers for our needs. When Jidu recovers from wounded pride, I shall "ask" that his Force Commander consult with Keyoke on the best ways to protect our common interests.'
Keyoke returned a guarded nod. 'Your father would look upon your farsightedness proudly, Lady Mara.'He bowed in respect. 'I must return to duty.'
Mara granted him permission to leave. Beside her, Lujan inclined his plumed head. 'Your warriors will all drink to your health, pretty Lady.' A playful frown creased his forehead. 'Though we might do well to assign a patrol to ensure that Lord Jidu does not tumble headfirst from his litter and bash in his skull on the way home.'
'Why would he do that?' Mara demanded.
Lujan shrugged. 'Drink can spoil the best man's balance, Lady. Jidu smelled like he had been guzzling since dawn.'
Mara's brows rose in surprise. 'You could smell through all that perfume?'
The Strike Leader returned an irreverent gesture around the scabbard of the ancestral sword. 'You didn't have to lean over the Lord's bared neck with a blade.'
Mara rewarded him with a laugh, but her moment of levity did not last. She waved dismissal to her honour guard, then retired to her study with Nacoya. Since her wedding to Buntokapi, she was disinclined to linger in the great hall, and with the redheaded Midkemian slave sent away, she found no relief in solitude. Day after day, she immersed herself in accounts with Jican, or reviewed clan politics with Nacoya, or played with Ayaki, whose current passion was the wooden soldiers carved for him by her officers. Yet even when Mara sat on the nursery's waxed wooden floor and arranged troops for her son - who played at being Lord of the Acoma, and who regularly routed whole armies of Minwanabi enemies - she could not escape the realities.
Desio and Tasaio might die a hundred deaths on the nursery floor, to Ayaki's bloodthirsty and childish delight, but all too likely, the boy who played at vanquishing his enemies would himself become sacrificed to the Red God, victim of the intrigue that shadowed his house.
When Mara was not fretting about enemies, she sought diversion from heartache. Nacoya had assured her that time would ease