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

As she hung her husband's horn around his neck, Ruha pushed him toward the khreima exit. "You'd
better go be-fore Dawasir comes in to get you," she whispered. "I'll join you after dark."
"Don't let anyone see you," Ajaman said, turning to leave. "It might not dishonor our family, but it would
em-barrass me."
Ruha shook her head at his unnecessary concern. Aja-man had no need to worry, but could not be
blamed for his apprehension. He did not realize that his wife could shroud herself in the shadow of a dune,
or that an owl would envy the silence with which she slipped through the desert night. The young husband
could not have known these things, for he did not know of the magic that made them possible or of the old
woman who had taught Ruha how to use the spells.
Ruha's marriage to Ajaman was not the first time her fa-ther had tried to find another place for her to
live. Her mother had died when she was only five. Because of her premonitions, none of the sheikh's other
wives would agree to raise her. Her father was left with no choice but to give up the young girl. He led the
tribe to a remote water-ing hole where an old witch lived in exile.
Like most "shunned women," the witch was lonely, so she gladly agreed to take the child as her own.
With a pecu-liar blend of love and forgetful indifference, Qoha'dar set about teaching Ruha how to survive
alone in the desert—a talent that relied heavily on the use of magic. By the time Ruha reached the age
between childhood and womanhood, she could conjure sand lions, summon wind dragons, and scorch her
enemies with the heat of the desert.
In Ruha's sixteenth year, Qoha'dar passed away. For several months, the lonely girl pored over
Qoha'dar's books. Without the old woman to explain the runes and act as a guide, however, most of the
effort was wasted. In all that time, Ruha learned only how to make a wall from wind and dust.
After accidentally enlarging a scorpion to the size of a camel and spending twenty-four hours hiding
from it in a rock crevice, Ruha realized that sand magic was no substi-tute for companionship. She decided
to return to the Mtair Dhafir, pretending that her premonitions had stopped.
Ruha made copies of her favorite spells by sewing them inside her aba, then hid her mentor's books in
the founda-tion of an ancient ruin. As much as she hated to abandon tomes of such value, there was no
other choice. If she brought the books along, her tribe would never believe her curse was gone.
Unfortunately, after spending a year locating her father's khowwan, she discovered that the memories
of her tribes-men were long. Less than a week after Ruha had entered camp, half the families threatened
to leave if she remained. Although the sheikh had no desire to abandon his child, he was forced to consider
the wishes of the malcontents. If he allowed the khowwan to split, both halves would become easy prey for
raiders from other tribes.
 He had called Ruha to his side, no doubt to ask her to leave. Before he could force himself to bring up
the painful subject, a pair of herdboys burst into the tent to report the presence of an unfamiliar tribe at El
Ma'ra oasis. Because El Ma'ra was one of two other oases located within a two-day ride of the Mtair
Dhafir, the news would normally have been received with alarm. Unallied Bedine tribes seldom camped so
close together, for their camels would compete for pasturage and the close proximity would make raiding a
virtual certainty.
Instead of receiving the news with a frown, however, Ruha's father had smiled broadly. He sent a
messenger to arrange a meeting with the strange tribe, then told Ruha to prepare herself for a new life.
Seven days later, Ajaman's amarat had sounded outside camp as he came to fetch his bride.
Remembering the short ride back to the Qahtani camp, Ruha smiled. Ajaman had led her camel, while a
dozen friends surrounded them with drawn scimitars to discour-age anybody from stealing the new bride.
Ajaman had dared to speak to her only a half-dozen times, to reassure her that she had no reason to be
frightened. When she had finally told him she was not at all scared, he had blushed and looked away. He
had hardly looked at her until twilight the next day, when his father had filled their marriage cup with
honeyed camel milk.
Now, as twilight set on her marriage for only the third time, Ruha sat inside her new tent and listened to
noises as comforting in the Qahtani camp as they had been in that of the Mtair Dhafir. Loudest was the
petulant braying of the camels when they returned from grazing and went to drink at the water hole. With