unique to my adopted homeland that would prove profitable in the Empire.’
Mara nodded, conceding his point. Janaio resumed in ingratiating fashion. ‘But rather than waste your valuable hours speaking, I would beg your indulgence to let my wares speak for themselves.’
Stirred to curiosity, Mara said, ‘What do you propose?’
Janaio indicated the various carry boxes and sacks at his elbow. ‘Here I have samples. As it is near the hour when many within the Empire cease activities to indulge in a cup of chocha, perhaps you would care for something more exotic?’
Unhappily reminded that Hokanu customarily shared such a moment to take refreshment with her, Mara repressed a sigh. She was tired, and in need of a nap, for the baby inside her interrupted her sleep at nights. ‘There is little time for this.’
‘Please,’ Janaio said quickly. He bowed in attempt to ease her mind. ‘I will not keep you overlong. You will be rewarded, both in pleasure and in riches, I assure you.’
Jican bent close to his Lady. ‘Let me call for a food taster, mistress,’ he advised.
Mara regarded her hadonra closely. He also was intrigued; but more, he had something else to tell about this mysterious trader from beyond the rift. She reached down and drew out the fan tucked behind her sash. Flipping it open and using it to hide her lips from her visitor, she whispered, ‘What else should I know of this man?’
Jican looked uncomfortable. ‘A suspicion,’ he murmured so that only she could hear. ‘I received word from a factor who is friendly to us. This Janaio has also made overtures to the Lord of the Matawa.’
‘Who is a firm supporter of the traditionalists and Jiro.’ Mara fluttered her fan. ‘Do you think he hopes that our rivalry will help him to drive a tough bargain?’
The hadonra pursed his lips, thinking. ‘That I cannot say. It is possible. Should he have wares of unusual worth, the house that gains concessions will benefit greatly.’
That settled Mara’s mind on the matter. She must not allow the fatigue of pregnancy to cede any advantage to the Anasati uncontested. She clapped for her runner and dispatched him to the kitchens to fetch a cook who would serve her as taster. She also asked for Saric and Lujan, since further counsel might be required of them later.
Janaio met her precautions with obsequious approval. ‘Most wise, Lady Mara. Though I assure you, my intentions are only honest.’
Mara crossed her hands over her middle without comment. No precautions were too stringent when she was so near to term with Hokanu’s child. She waited, unresponsive to Janaio’s attempts to make conversation, until her adviser arrived at her summons.
Saric’s look of surprise as he entered revealed he had taken the man to be Midkemian, sporting Empire fashion. One glance at the Acoma First Adviser caused Janaio to straighten where he sat. As if his instincts warned that Saric’s insights were to be respected, he crisply listed his sureties. ‘For the sake of easing your worry, great Lady, since the foodstuffs I carry are so exotic that no one in this land will be familiar enough with their taste to detect any tampering, I propose that I share each cup with you.’
Unimpressed by gold chain and grand rhetoric, Saric met this pronouncement with a lack of expression. He watched intently as the trader made a display of pushing back his sleeves, to show that he wore no ring or bracelet, and that nothing was contained within his robe. ‘If you will have your servants prepare hot water, three pots, and cups from your own stores, I will provide the ingredients. Then you may choose which cup I am to taste and which you will.’ Smiling in the teeth of Saric’s quiet, he said, ‘If it please you, Lady, I will bear the risk equally.’
Intrigued in spite of her First Adviser’s reserve, Mara said, ‘What are you attempting to bring to our Empire?’
‘Fine beverages, mistress. A wonderful assortment of flavors and pungent drinks that will astonish your palate. Should this venture prove profitable, and I assure you it will, then I will also bring exotic wines and ales to the Empire from the finest vintners and brewers in the Kingdom of the Isles.’
Mara weighed her impressions. No wonder this man had remained on Midkemia. He might have served as a house soldier before the final battle of the Riftwar, but he was a born merchant. She cast a sidelong glance as Lujan arrived and marched smartly to take his place behind her. If fate had cast him on the other side of the rift, given his glib tongue and facile mind, he might perhaps have been the one to sit here, selling exotic wares.
The surmise was somehow reassuring. Still, it was not her nature to trust readily, particularly when Saric had given no word in favor of this stranger’s proposal. Mara chose to challenge the connection with her Anasati enemy. ‘What was your arrangement with the Lord of the Matawa?’
Janaio flashed her a grin in the manner of a born Midkemian. Where another Tsurani ruler might be put off by such openness, Mara had known Kevin too well to misunderstand; if anything, the foreign mannerism set her at ease. Janaio went on, ‘You heard about my talks, but I assure you they are no secret. The wares I carry are luxuries and need delicate handling and skillful negotiators to place them in the proper markets. I would be a poor merchant if I failed to examine all options. The Lord of the Matawa has sent many emissaries through the rift seeking to establish a brokerage.’
Mara’s lips thinned as she pondered the implications of this. Jican whispered something to Saric, who nodded and quietly touched her arm. ‘My Lady, we know that the Matawa wish to make inroads in your trade market. They cannot disturb your imperial patent that gives you exclusive license for certain items, but they hope to become a rival presence to lure any nonexclusive trade they can wean away from our factors. They could legally establish exclusive trade rights beyond the rift, where we have no control. Arakasi’s report holds that funding for the venture might well come from Jiro.’
Sick that politics should increasingly come to drive even the most innocuous of ventures, Mara inclined her head to Janaio. ‘Send for what you need.’
Her servants were devotedly efficient. Proud to uphold their Lady’s honor, they swiftly brought in trays with several pots and porcelain cups. A slave hurried after, bearing a kettle of steaming water.
Janaio set out his various packets and vials with a theatrical flourish. ‘First,’ he announced, ‘something pungent and savory.’ He poured water into one of the small pots and dropped in a small pouch. ‘This delicacy grows on a shrub in the southern part of the Kingdom, mistress. The leaves are costly to dry and ship, and because they are susceptible to mold, only the very wealthy can afford to buy the small supply that reaches the northern lands. For this reason, the drink I prepare has not gained much popularity in my city of LaMut. Once you have tasted, I think you must agree that this is likely due to lack of familiarity.’ He raised the top of the pot, sniffed at the steam, and closed his eyes. ‘I believe you will concur that this fine beverage will find approval from Tsurani nobles of taste.’
With this, he poured, filling the room with an exotic, spicy scent. When three cups were full, he nodded to Mara’s servant, who lifted the tray and bore it to the dais for the Lady to choose her preference. She motioned for the slave who had carried the pot to taste one. The servant handed her one of the pair that remained, and bore the tray back to Janaio.
The merchant lifted his cup, saying, ‘Sip cautiously, lest you scald your tongue, mistress.’
The alien aroma fascinated Mara. Unlike anything else she had known, she found it wildly enticing. She sipped the brew. The first taste was acrid and strange, yet bracing and flavorful. She considered a moment, then said, ‘I suspect a little honey would cut the bitterness.’
The trader smiled. ‘You skip ahead of me, Good Servant. In Midkemia we also use white sugar made from a plant called beets. Some folk prefer a dash of milk; yet others, the juice of a tart fruit similar to the Kelewanese ketundi.’
Mara sipped again and found her appreciation increasing. ‘What do you call this?’
The man smiled. ‘It is tea, Good