"Troy Denning - The Harpers 1 - The Parched Sea" - читать интересную книгу автора (Denning Troy)

As Ajaman fastened his scabbard belt, Ruha kissed him. "How much supper should I bring?"
"What you can carry easily," Ajaman answered, still whispering.
Outside the tent, the deep-voiced man called, "Ajaman, quit your bed games and come to the watch!"
The exhorta-tion brought laughter from a dozen throats.
"How many men does it require to fetch you, my hus-band?" the bride asked, irritated by the intrusive
gathering outside the khreima. Though Ruha had addressed Ajaman, she had intentionally spoken loud
enough for the men to hear. They tried to pretend they had not heard her com-plaint, as it was forbidden for
a bride in purdah to speak directly to any man except her husband. Despite their ef-forts, several men
could not stifle snickers.
Ajaman raised an eyebrow, but did not seem upset by Ruha's audacity. He covered the appearance of
impropriety by repeating her question, "My wife wishes to know how many men are required to summon
me."
"More than we have brought, apparently," the deep-voiced man returned. "To keep you from your duty,
she must truly be as beautiful as her father promised."
Ruha smiled at the man's comment. Her father had also promised her that she would be pleased with
Ajaman. So far, it appeared that her sire was as skilled at matchmaking as at camel herding.
Picking up his quiver and bow, Ajaman beamed at his new bride. "Indeed, my wife's father comes from
an hon-orable family," he called. "It is a pity you cannot see how well he keeps his promises, Dawasir. My
words cannot de-scribe her."
Ruha's smile vanished with her husband's words. The comment made her feel as if she were on display.
Like all Bedine women, Ruha reserved her beauty for her hus-band's eyes alone. Outside her home, the
curves of her firm body would always remain concealed beneath her bag-gy aba. A shawl and veil would
hide her sable hair, her proud nose, and the strong features of her statuesque face. All Dawasir or his
comrades would ever see of Ruha were her sultry eyes and, perhaps, the crossed hash marks tat-tooed on
her regal cheeks. She could not help feeling be-trayed by Ajaman's boasting.
 Ruha caught her spouse by his sleeve and pulled his ear close to her mouth. "If you don't watch your
tongue, my husband," she whispered, "your friend Dawasir is not the only one who won't see how well my
father keeps his promises." Her tone was serious enough to make Ajaman heed her words, but also light
enough not to sound like an insult or challenge.
Ajaman clutched at his breast, feigning a wound. "Your words have pierced me deeper than a raider's
arrow," he responded, his mouth upturned in a roguish smile. "I shall die with your name upon my lips."
Laughing, the bride pressed her mouth to her husband's. "I'd rather you die with my kiss on your lips
than my name."
Ruha retrieved Ajaman's amarat from its hook. Before giving it to him, she stopped to run her hand
along its hand-carved curves. The horn was already the source of her fon-dest memory, for when Ajaman
had come to claim her as his bride, he had announced his arrival by sounding the amarat a mile outside the
Mtair Dhafir's camp. Its brazen tones had been Ruha's first hint that she would like her new husband, for
she had not even met him before he came to take her away.
Their marriage had been arranged by fate, or so her fa-ther claimed. A waterless summer in the north
had driven Ajaman's tribe, the Qahtan, into the sands traveled by the Mtair Dhafir. Instead of chasing the
strangers away, Ruha's father had proposed an alliance. In return for the Qahtan's promise to return north
at summer's end, the Mtair Dhafir would share their territory for a few months. The bargain had been
sealed by Ruha's marriage to Ajaman, the son of the Qahtan's sheikh by his second wife.
What the Qahtan had not realized was that they were solving another problem for their new allies.
Witches were no more welcome in the Mtair Dhafir than any other Be-dine khowwan, and Ruha had
always been a problem for her father. When the strangers wandered into Mtair terri-tory, the sheikh seized
the opportunity to marry his daugh-ter into a tribe that had no way of knowing about the visions she
suffered. Of course, her father was risking a blood feud if the Qahtan ever found out that she was a witch.
Since it was in the best interest of everyone involved in the decep-tion to keep the matter hidden, he was
willing to make the gamble. It was a risk that Ruha intended to see that he never regretted.