Servant of the Empire (50 page)

His sulkiness buried under silken tones, for his master’s family was one of the Great Five and above Mara’s in station, the tall emissary offered his respects. ‘Are you well, Lady of the Acoma?’

Cautious of her elaborately piled hair, Mara tipped her head. ‘I am well, First Adviser Hantigo. Is your master, Lord Keda, well?’

The Keda emissary responded stiffly to her courtesy. ‘I can say he was, when last I saw him.’

Mara took care not to smile in the face of the man’s veiled bitterness. Distantly related to the Shinzawai, his master was a powerful man, not only above her in family standing, but Warchief of Clan Kanazawai. Lord Keda’s was not a house she cared to offend, though at her instruction Jican
had spent the last day and a half balking the man’s First Adviser.

Settled on her cushions, her robes arranged in layers like flower petals, Mara gestured leave to her advisers and the Keda’s emissaries to be seated. She opened promptly, as if her hadonra had not done his best to stall through the days of negotiation. ‘Nacoya tells me we are close to an understanding.’

The Keda First Adviser maintained his impeccable manners, but his tone left no doubt as to his mood. ‘With due respect to your most esteemed First Adviser, Lady Mara, the matter is far from settled.’

Mara raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? What more is there to discuss?’

The Keda First Adviser smoothed irritation with the skill of a seasoned politician. ‘We require access to the docks in Silmani, Sulan-Qu, and Jamar, Lady. Apparently your factors have purchased so much of the available warehouse space that you hold, in effect, a monopoly.’

Soured by sarcasm, one of the lesser factors broke in. ‘Given the lack of visible Acoma commerce in these areas, I would hesitate to suggest you had anticipated Keda needs and sought to frustrate them. We remind that the season is short. Time compels us to arrange an accommodation to store our goods upon the river docks. The commerce of House Keda must not suffer a detrimental interruption.’

Lest the angry clerk reveal too much, the Keda First Adviser took matters back in hand. ‘My master has ordered me to make inquiry into your requirements and bargain for purchase of your contracts for warehouse leases in the three cities mentioned. After two days of talk, we are unclear exactly what price you demand.’

A movement in the shadows at the far corner of the hall drew Mara’s eye; unobtrusive, silent as always, Arakasi entered. He saw at once that his mistress had noticed him,
and gave her a clear signal to proceed with the matter at hand. Mara concealed her satisfaction over the Spy Master’s efficiency and looked pointedly at the Keda First Adviser. ‘Hantigo, Acoma plans for those facilities are Acoma business. Suffice it to say that we will be relinquishing advantage in the fall markets next year if we do not retain our current contracts.’

‘My Lady, if I may presume,’ the Keda First Adviser said with the faintest hint of acerbity. ‘Next fall’s markets are of little concern to Keda interests. It is this spring that our grain must be upon the river at flood. When our factor at Jamar was ignored by your own, we made efforts to negotiate rights to sublet the warehouses.’ He cleared his throat and forced himself not to sound patronizing; this was not a capricious girl he confronted but a proven player of the game. ‘Because it is not common for a Ruling Lady to be concerned with minor matters of trade, we were slow to bring the matter to your attention, but, my Lady, the days that remain now are crucial.’

‘For the Keda,’ interjected Mara. Arakasi’s intelligence had hinted that Keda spring crops were sitting in granaries upon farms upriver, awaiting word that dockside storage was available. When the spring floods began, the grain needed to be close at hand for transport by boats and barges downriver to the markets at the Holy City, Sulan-Qu, and Jamar. The dry winters of lowland Kelewan were the only season when travel on the Gagajin – the heartline of commerce in the Empire – was restricted. While smaller craft could negotiate the shoals during winter, deep-draught barges laden with cargo could not pass the shallows between Sulan-Qu and Jamar. Only when the spring snow melt from the mountainous High Wall swelled the waters could heavy cargo make passage. Mara had tried to tie up the dock space at Kentosani, the Holy City, as well, but had failed, owing to imperial edict – no one could commandeer
the warehouses under long contracts, against the possibility of imperial need.

Yet even with this setback, Mara had established a barrier to an opponent’s trade, but in such a way that no overt act or threat was ever made. That Lord Keda sent his First Adviser to another house as negotiator proved her impulsive plot had touched a weakness; the dilemma concerning the grain impasse was a matter of critical urgency.

Mara feigned consternation. ‘Well then, if my advisers have not been clear, let me set the terms.’ She paused, as though counting on her fingers, then said, ‘We shall grant you full rights to our warehouses in Silmani, without restriction, from this day to the day after your crops leave for the south. And equal access to warehouses in all your southern market cities, again without restriction, until you have sold the last of this year’s crops, but no longer than until the first day of summer.’

The First Adviser of the Keda sat motionless, no expression on his face, but his weary manner turned avid as he waited to hear the price.

Almost, Mara regretted to disappoint him. ‘In exchange, your Lord must grant to me the promise of a vote in the council, to be cast as I require, without reservation or question.’

In violation of protocol, the Keda First Adviser blurted, ‘Impossible!’

Mara returned only silence. On cue, Nacoya said, ‘First Adviser! You forget yourself!’

Stung to shame, Hantigo flushed and fought to recover poise. ‘I beg the Lady’s forgiveness.’ Coldly he narrowed his eyes. ‘Nevertheless, I would be less than faithful to my Lord should I answer this request in any way save no.’

Aware that Lujan was smothering an ill-timed smile, and that Arakasi watched her in appreciation from his vantage
at the rear of the hall, Mara managed her part to perfection. ‘That is our price.’

The clerks and factors looked miffed, and Hantigo’s flush receded to a pallor that left him trembling. ‘Lady, you ask too much.’

‘You could hire wagons and drive the grain to the southern markets,’ whispered a mortified factor. Hantigo glowered and answered through clenched teeth. ‘Had that been a feasible option, I should never have left the shade of my master’s estates. The margin we had for alternatives has been wasted, and even should our wagons depart this hour, the grain would arrive too late to catch the market at peak. We would be forced to take whatever price the brokers offered.’

Hantigo faced Mara, his features a bland mask. ‘Keda honour has no price.’

But Arakasi had disclosed that this year the Lord of the Keda was overextended. If pride was paramount to him, he could sell the grain at a loss and wait for another year to recoup. Yet Mara sensed that to force him to such a pass would be dangerous, perhaps even earn his enmity. She smiled, and warmth seemed to radiate from her. ‘First Adviser Hantigo, you mistake me. I intend no disrespect toward Andero of the Keda. Allow me to pledge before these witnesses that I shall ask your master to support me only in a matter that holds significance to House Acoma. I will promise further that no vote shall be demanded that can adversely reflect upon the honour of House Keda. No demand of mine would call for military aid to the Acoma, or attack upon a third party, or any other act that would require Keda property or wealth to be placed at risk. I merely seek sureties to block any future attempts to disadvantage me in the High Council. Surely you recall the difficulty the imperial call to muster on the border imposed upon my house?’

Hantigo rubbed dampness from his temples, reluctant to concede her point. Minwanabi’s plotting had certainly inconvenienced Acoma fortunes for three years; the house’s entry into the silk trade had been nearly ruined by that one action alone. But if the First Adviser sympathized, he could not grant Mara’s terms without leave from his master; the transfer of a vote in the High Council was not a concession to be granted by an emissary. Regretfully, Hantigo said, ‘Even with such assurances, I doubt my master will accept your terms.’

That the man had ceased protesting impossibilities was significant. Confident of victory, and knowing Andero of the Keda for a man of steadfast integrity, Mara concluded the interview. ‘Then you had best fly to your master and apprise him of my offer. We shall await his decision with interest. Tell him that we leave for the celebration at Kentosani within a week. Here, or in the Holy City, let him know I will be at his disposal’ – she gave a precise smile – ‘to hear his reply.’

The First Adviser of the Keda rose and bowed, his disappointment masterfully hidden. Attended by his troop of scribes and factors, he departed from the hall with dignity.

Mara dispatched Jican to attend the Keda First Adviser’s departure. Then she waited a prudent interval and motioned Arakasi to her side. ‘Shall we count upon a Keda vote in the council?’

Her Spy Master turned a look as keen as a killwing’s through the doorway the emissary had just vacated. ‘I suspect the Lord may relent, but you will have to provide him with sureties. Lord Keda is firm in his role of Clan Warchief. He’ll do nothing to compromise house or Kanazawai interests, and most particularly he would not become embroiled in any conflict with the Minwanabi.’

Lujan took a step away, toward the door and his awaiting
duties, but observed, ‘Still, even if they’re publicly in the Jade Eye Party, the Keda have many relatives involved with the Blue Wheel Party. If they’re as deep into the Game of the Council as that suggests, perhaps giving Desio only one more reason to hate them won’t matter very much?’

A faint smile was all that remark earned from Mara. Worn by the aftermath of a trying afternoon, she tugged out an itching hairpin. ‘We’ve done all we can without risking insult.’ She turned the pin over in her hands, watching the light flash and sparkle in the small bead at the end. ‘I don’t enjoy twisting the tail of a Clan Warchief, but I’ll need all the support I can garner to thwart Minwanabi in the High Council. Our house cannot afford a repetition of our near-disaster in Tsubar.’

Mara pulled out another hairpin, then motioned for a servant to remove her headpiece. Dark locks cascaded down her back, making her more comfortable, but hotter. ‘Where does that leave us now?’

Nacoya furrowed her brow, then snapped fingers for a maid to attend to her mistress’s loose hair. ‘If every promise made to you is kept, you could sway close to one third of the High Council.’

Weighing the odds as he had once done on the battlefield, Keyoke added, ‘I would wager some will dishonour their vow, given adverse circumstances, my Lady.’

But the game was never assured; Mara had learned the pitfalls of Tsurani politics at a very tender age. While the fingers of her servant worked her hair into a comfortable braid, she hugged her elbows against her chest and rested her chin on her fists. ‘But if the Clan Warchief of the Kanazawai were to yield me his vote, others who might be inclined to waver would follow the stronger man’s lead.’

Unspoken beneath her conjecture was the fear that she had gone too far, and goaded House Keda into enmity; if Lord Andero took offence, not even the fact that the Acoma
and he both held to the Jade Eye Party would prevent a move in retaliation.

But uncertainties did not make for greatness. As the maid finished off her braid with a velvet tie, Mara asked for a lighter, plainer robe, then regarded her circle of advisers. ‘We have much to do in preparation for the journey.’ A glance at the window showed several hours of daylight still remained. ‘Lujan, please assemble an escort. Ayaki and the natami must be secured against attack during our absence, and a shipment of our silk bales must be sent to those warehouses, so the Keda have no cause to complain that we monopolized the space to disadvantage them. For that I must make arrangements with the cho-ja Queen before nightfall.’

Like a patrol crossing an enemy border, the Acoma entered the Holy City. From the lofty warehouses by the riverside to the grand avenues between courtyards, Kentosani was bedecked like a bride before her wedding. Freshly painted walls, garlands of flowers, and coloured bunting made each street a joyous vista. Older than Sulan-Qu, and reflecting overlappping centuries of tastes and architecture, the city was the most impressive within the Empire. Multi-tiered stone buildings crowded against carved and painted balconies; lamp posts of cleverly fashioned wood and ceramic rose above boxes of flowers lining the avenues. Everywhere Kevin looked, he was stunned by beauty and stark ugliness in contrast. The scent of temple incense mingled with an underlying miasma of river sewage. Squalid beggars licensed by the Imperial Government sat in rows, open sores and missing limbs displayed to the passing throng – not a few balanced upon crutches while resting naked backs against a mural painted by a master artist. Filthy bands of street urchins shouted and craned necks to catch sight of a great Lady, while Mara’s vigilant guard kept
them back with shields and spear shafts. Town matrons carrying baskets on yoke poles jeered and pointed at the great barbarian slave who towered over the rest of her retinue, and whose red-gold hair drew admiring eyes.

The knots of merchants avoided by running couriers, processions of priests in their cowled robes and beaded sashes hung with relics, darting house messengers, and city guards in sparkling imperial white lent an atmosphere of bustling prosperity. But Kevin was soldier enough to notice alert eyes peering from men hanging back in shadowed corners; whether they belonged to spies, informants, or rumourmongers who sold news for shell coins, the Acoma guards took no chances. Alert scouts checked into every doorway and alley they passed, while Lujan kept his warriors poised to attack at the slightest hint of threat. Imperial peace was a promise of retribution against whoever broke it, not a guarantee for the unwary.