marriage evoked nameless fears, rooted somehow in her grief. She shivered, though the day was hot, and snapped her fingers for servants to remove the food trays. She would rest, and contemplate alone upon what her aged nurse had instructed.
Upon Keyoke’s recommendation, Mara remained within the estate house throughout the afternoon. Although she would have preferred to continue her review of the Acoma holdings by litter, her warriors were too depleted; a retinue would be needed to ensure her safety in the open, leaving fewer guards available for routine patrols. Too conscientious to remain idle, the girl studied documents, to acquire further familiarity with the more distant assets of her family. She called for a light meal. The shadows lengthened, and the heat of the afternoon settled into stillness.
In the course of her reading, the Lady of the Acoma had come to understand a subtle but important fact of Tsurani life, one emphasized often by her father but only now appreciated: honour and tradition were but two walls of a great house; power and wealth comprised the other two. And of the four, it was the latter pair that kept the roof from collapsing. Mara clenched her fist against the handle of the scroll. If somehow she could keep those enemies who sought her death at bay, until she could muster the strength to enter the Game of the Council, then … She abandoned the thought unfinished. Keeping the Lords of the Minwanabi and Anasati at bay was the problem at hand. Vengeance was a useless dream unless she could secure her family’s survival.
Deep in thought, Mara did not hear Nacoya call softly from the doorway. ‘Mistress?’ the nurse repeated.
Mara glanced up, startled, and motioned the old nurse inside. She waited, preoccupied and aloof, while the old woman bowed, then knelt before her.
‘Lady, I have thought upon our talk this afternoon, and I beg your tolerance as I advise.’
Mara’s eyes narrowed. She had no desire to resume their earlier discussion of marriage, but the lingering ache of the assassin’s bruises reminded her of the need forprudence. She laid her scrolls aside and gestured for Nacoya to continue. ‘As Ruling Lady of the Acoma, your status would not change with marriage. A husband might sit at your right hand, but he would have no voice in house matters, save that which you permit. He –’
Mara waved her hand. ‘These things I know.’
The old nurse settled more comfortably upon the mat before her mistress. ‘Your forgiveness, Lady. When I spoke earlier, I had forgotten that to a maiden of Lashima the concerns of the world beyond the temple walls would fade from mind. Matters between boys and girls, the meetings with the sons of noble houses, the kissing and the touching games – these things were denied you the past year and more. The thought of men …’ Unnerved by the growing intensity of Mara’s stillness, Nacoya faltered, but forcibly finished. ‘Forgive an old woman’s rambling. You were a maiden – and still are.’
The statement caused Mara to blush. During her time at the temple, she had been instructed to put things of the flesh aside. Nacoya’s concern that the girl might be unable to deal with this question was unfounded, for within Mara the struggle to forget had been difficult. She had often caught herself daydreaming of boys she had known during childhood.
Mara rubbed nervously at the bandage that covered her injured palm. ‘Mother of my heart, I am still a maiden. But I understand what is between a man and a woman.’ Abruptly, as if piqued, she formed a circle with thumb and forefinger of her left hand and inserted her right forefinger with a thrusting motion. Herdsmen, farmers, and soldiers used such a mime to indicate fornication. While not obscene – sex was an unselfconscious fact of Tsurani life – her gesture was common and ill became the Lady of a great house.
Too wise to rise to such provocation, Nacoya said,‘Mistress, I know you played with
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