Daughter of the Empire (16 page)

Cho-ja products were valuable, and their requirements simple: grain and items fashioned of hide; for these reasons families would kill to gain a hive upon their estates. And among all the hives known in the Empire, the cho-ja sent forth a new queen less often than once in a human lifetime.

But Mara would need to convince the new queen to migrate to Acoma lands. If she failed, representatives of other houses would follow, until the queen received an offer that pleased her. And as Arakasi had observed, what would strike the fancy of a creature as alien as a cho-ja remained a mystery.

Lujan and his company left for the hills to search for recruits, all but unnoticed amid the bustle of servants gathering supplies for the escort who would depart to bargain for the new cho-ja queen.

Mara left her quarters well before dawn. The herders had not yet stirred to drive the needra to the meadows, and the mists hung still over grasses shiny with dew. Cloaked in dark cloth against the damp, she waited before an unadorned litter with Jican at her side. His tally slate was written over with notes, and he held his stylus poised while Mara dictated last-minute instructions.

Suddenly she bit her lip in agitation. ‘Gods, the excitement almost made me forget!’

Jican raised his brows. ‘Mistress?’

‘Wedding invitations.’ Mara shook her head in frustration.
‘Nacoya will direct you to the proper ritual verses. She will know even better than I who must be invited and who may be ignored. Be sure to ask her on my behalf to oversee all requirements I have forgotten.’

Jican questioned as he jotted hurried notes. ‘What about the summer stock sale, mistress? Animals to be auctioned must be registered with the Breeders’ Guild in advance.’

‘You’ve chosen well so far,’ Mara said, aware she had run out of time. ‘I trust your judgement.’ Keyoke arrived with a chosen troop of warriors, and Papewaio and Arakasi already waited, talking, a short distance away.

The men assembled with the silent efficiency of veterans and soon the last one took his place. Keyoke approached, wearing the dark, serviceable armour suitable for unobtrusive travel in the wilds. His officer’s helm carried only a single short plume, and his ornate ceremonial sword had been replaced with the one he preferred to use in battle.

Stopping before Mara, Keyoke bowed. ‘Mistress, the men are ready. Your bearers stand with the supplies, and the trailbreakers are already on their way. We may depart at your word.’

Mara dismissed Jican with a wish for prosperity and fair trading. Then she entered her litter and reclined upon the cushions. ‘Tell the men to march,’ she ordered.

As the half-naked bearers bent to shoulder her weight, she knew the swift thrill of fear. This was no formal state visit to another Lord but a bold move to steal an advantage on every other player in the Game of the Council; that boldness carried risks. As the party swung around a small hillock, Mara watched her estate house fall behind. She wondered if she would return to see it again.

Guided by Arakasi, the Acoma retinue hurried secretly along back-country trails. Each day Mara observed growing signs of strain in the soldiers’ behaviour. Tsurani soldiers would never lose discipline in the presence of their Ruling Lord or Lady, but on previous marches she had listened to quiet conversation, banter and jokes about campfires. Now the men kept silence, broken only at need and then in whispers. Their usually animated faces were now set in the expressionless masks of Tsurani warriors.

On the third day they waited in hiding until nightfall, then moved out in darkness, munching thyza bread and needra jerky as they hurried to avoid detection. The next daybreak they marched deep into the territory of a neighbouring lord, several times coming close to patrols of soldiers from the estate. Keyoke kept his men close by and avoided all contact. Even a minor lord might seize the chance to strike at trespassers if he thought his men could obliterate Mara and her fifty guards. If any other Lord knew of the queen-spawning, there was not just a chance of attack along the way, but certainty.

Mara rode in a state of fatigue, unable to rest, not only because of the constant travelling and fear, but from the thrill of anticipation as well. Gaining this new hive would do more to preserve Acoma survival than any dozen clever plots in the High Council.

Four more days passed, in exhausting succession. The company snatched sleep at odd hours, for nights were spent avoiding patrols, or wading through exposed expanses of meadow or thyza paddies along the banks of the many tributaries to the river Gagajin. At such times slaves brought up the rear, setting the disturbed seedlings straight to hide all traces of their passage. At dawn on the ninth day, Mara sat upon bare earth like a soldier and ate cheese and journey biscuit. She called Keyoke and Arakasi to come sit with her.

Both declined to share her food, as they had eaten the same cold rations earlier. She studied their faces, one lined, leathery, familiar, and as constant as the sunrise, and the other seeming little more than an illusion, a mask to fit whatever persona the moment required. ‘We have crossed three estates, each one of them well guarded. Yet no patrol has sounded the alarm. Am I to believe in the extraordinary skills of my guide and my Force Commander, or is it always this easy for armed soldiers to invade the estates of the Empire?’

‘A pertinent question, mistress.’ Arakasi regarded her with what seemed the beginning of respect. ‘One does not need a network of spies to know Keyoke is accounted a superior officer. His experience is respected throughout the Empire.’

Keyoke inclined his head towards the Spy Master at the compliment. ‘We could not have managed so well without the guidance Arakasi has given us. His knowledge of the back country is impressive, a thing the Acoma will value in times to come.’

Mara acknowledged this tacit acceptance of Arakasi. The Spy Master sat with the keen expression of a soldier, an attitude that now seemed his natural manner. The man’s ability to appear what he wished slightly unnerved Mara. ‘Tell me honestly,’ she said, ‘would you find it this easy to lead an armed company across the lands of the Acoma?’

Arakasi laughed, an unexpected sound in a humourless camp. ‘Mistress, assuredly not. Keyoke is widely admired for his knowledge of warcraft. He knows the dangers of regularly scheduled, unvarying patrols. He is prudent, and cunning, even when his command is small.’ With a look of respect at the Force Commander, he added, ‘
Especially
when his command is small. It is difficult for
one man to trespass upon Acoma lands, let alone a force in strength.’

Keyoke seized upon a discrepancy. ‘You said “difficult”, not “impossible”.’

Araksi inclined his head in agreement. ‘True.’

Mara said, ‘Lujan’s grey warriors seemed to take our needra with small difficulty.’

Arakasi couldn’t avoid a grin. ‘Again true, but he had an advantage: I told him when and where to strike.’

Keyoke became dangerously still. ‘It seems we have something to discuss.’ He gestured, indicating his desire to withdraw. ‘My Lady?’

Mara withheld her consent. ‘Is there any estate in the Empire so well guarded that no stranger or outlaw could slip through?’

‘Only one,’ said Arakasi, apparently unconcerned with Keyoke’s ire. ‘The estate of the Lord of the Dachindo, far to the east.’

Mara smiled, as if she had won a small victory. ‘Now indeed, Keyoke, you and Arakasi have something to discuss.’ She watched as the two men rose and moved apart, conferring quietly, heads close together in the misty grey dawn. As much as Keyoke might take umbrage at the implied shortcomings in his defence of the estate, Mara knew wisdom would prevail. He would relish any information the Spy Master could offer to better his protection of his mistress. Confident that by the time of her wedding the Dachindo would no longer be the only estate impenetrable to trespassers, she sent a slave for her comb. In the last minutes before the company started off down the trail, she applied herself to the ongoing frustration of trying to work the knots from her long hair without benefit of a maid.

The day grew hot. The soldiers marched uncomplaining, through a gradually changing landscape. The lowland plains with their patchwork of paddies and meadows gave way to forested hills crowned with rocks. The trees became old and wild, veiled in flowering vines and thorn. Yet the more difficult the terrain, the more the spirits of the men rose. They had made good time, and as sunlight fell slanting across the trail, the travellers reached the far border of the Inrodaka estates. Arakasi asked for a halt. While the soldiers changed from field armour to lacquered and polished dress armour, he said, ‘We must leave this trail and cut across this ridge to another over there.’ He waved at a notch in the woodlands, barely more than a path, that led upward into denser forest.

Keyoke paused in his changing, his plumed helm half unpacked. ‘I thought cho-ja built hives in meadows or valleys.’

Arakasi wiped sweat from his forehead. The light was fading quickly and he seemed concerned that they reach their destination before nightfall. ‘Mostly that’s true; at least, I’ve never heard of a hive that’s not situated in the open.’ He pointed up the trail. ‘Further on, the woods thin. There’s a meadowed valley about a thousand feet higher up. That’s the place we seek.’

Mara overheard. ‘So this old hive is not on Inrodaka lands?’

‘No, but there is some sort of treaty nevertheless.’ Arakasi gestured to the north, where the forest grew wild and thick. ‘These lands were once part of a larger estate, who knows how many years ago. When that Lord, whoever he was, fell, his holdings were divided among the conquerors, the Inrodaka among them. This area was left unclaimed. It’s not very good land. The timber’s rich, but too difficult to log out, and there are only two or three meadows for herds, all without trails to lowland pastures.
Still, the cho-ja accept the Inrodaka as their landlords without making an issue of it. Who knows how they think.’ Directing the lead soldiers up the trail, he said, ‘From here we must be cautious but restrained. We may be challenged by cho-ja soldiers. We must not fight. With a new queen in the hive, even the seasoned warriors will be very tense and aggressive. They may feint attack, so let no man draw sword, else we’ll all be slaughtered.’

Mara consulted Keyoke, then approved the Spy Master’s order. Arrayed in brilliant Acoma green, they began their climb. The trail cut sharply upward, angling between jagged outcrops of rock. Travel by litter became impossible, and even on foot Keyoke had to help Mara with the more difficult ascents. These were no switchback trails cut for humans, but paths fit only for kumi, the six-legged mountain goat of Kelewan; and for the agile cho-ja. The bearers fared worst of all, sweating and grunting under their loads, while others hauled the empty litter along by main force.

The sun shone hot on the backs of the soldiers. Strange mountain birds took flight from the trees at their approach, and thickets teemed with game. Fascinated by sights utterly new and strange, Mara never thought to complain of sore feet.

Just after midday, a shout arose from the lead patrol. Keyoke caught Mara’s arm and hurried her to the head of the trail, where a dozen cho-ja soldiers stood with spears across their upper torsos, at the ready but not menacing. Shiny black, with six jointed limbs and bodies segmented like those of insects, they all looked identical to Mara, as if struck from the mould of a guild craftsman. She regarded the aliens and felt utterly at a loss.

‘These are old hive warriors,’ Keyoke observed. ‘They will not attack us unless we give them cause.’

Keyoke’s words helped steady her. She waited, tense
as her escort, while her Force Commander advanced and saluted, his upraised arm bent at the elbow, palm forward. ‘Honour to your hive.’

The nearest cho-ja spoke in a surprisingly intelligible voice. ‘Honour to your house, men of the Acoma. Who speaks? The hive must be informed of your presence.’

‘I am Keyoke, Force Commander of the Acoma.’

The lead cho-ja returned the salute. As he moved, Mara saw how his body was segmented, a larger rear thorax with four three-jointed legs and a smaller upper thorax, roughly comparable to a man’s torso, with two almost human arms. His flesh was encased in chitin, and each forearm possessed a natural ridge that appeared as sharp as a sword edge. Upon his head he wore a helm of obvious Tsurani manufacture. The face within was oval, with large multifaceted eyes above two slits where a nose should be. The cho-ja’s jaw and mouth were surprisingly human in appearance, though his voice was singsong and high-pitched. ‘I am Ixal’t, Force Leader of the Second Command of hive Kait’lk.’

‘Now I remember.’ Keyoke relaxed fractionally, as if in the presence of an old acquaintance. ‘You served during the invasion of the Thuril Highlands.’ That explained how this cho-ja recognized Acoma colours. He motioned Mara to his side. ‘This is our Lady of the Acoma. She has come to negotiate with your new queen.’

Eyes like faceted metal flickered briefly over the girl at Keyoke’s side. Then the cho-ja executed a fair imitation of a human bow. ‘Welcome, Lady. Your arrival is timely. The new warriors are restless. This hatching is abundant and we are crowded. You may pass, and may your gods bless this bargaining.’

The cho-ja moved nimbly aside and allowed the Tsurani party to continue up the trail. Mara was curious about the
unexpected expertise of her Force Commander. ‘Keyoke, I didn’t know you understood the cho-ja.’

‘I know their soldiers, as much as any man can. I served with some, many years ago – when your grandfather led many houses in battle against the Easter Confederation.’ If the old campaigner felt his years, he did not show them, ascending the difficult trail with hardly a sign of exertion.