"Raymond E. Feist - Empire Saga 1 - Daughter Of The Empire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

years of faithful service, some having stood guard at Mara's crib side. Most had followed fathers and
grandfathers into Acoma service.

Numbed and speechless, Mara counted those soldiers standing in formation and added their numbers
to those who had travelled as bodyguards. Thirty-seven warriors remained in her service, a pitiful fraction
of the garrison her father had once commanded. Of the twenty-five hundred warriors to wear Acoma
green, five hundred were dedicated to guarding outlying Acoma holdings in distant cities and provinces.
Three hundred had already been lost beyond the rift in the war against the barbarians before this last
campaign. Now, where two thousand soldiers had served at the height of Acoma power, the heart of the
estate was protected by fewer than fifty men. Mara shook her head in sorrow. Many women besides
herself mourned losses beyond the rift. Despair filled her heart as she realized the Acoma forces were too
few to withstand any assault, even an attack by bandits, should a bold band raid from the mountains. But
Mara also knew why Keyoke had placed the estate at risk to bring such a large portion - twenty-four out
of thirty-seven - of the surviving warriors to guard her. Any spies of the Minwan-abi must not be allowed
to discover just how weak the Acoma were. Hopelessness settled over her like a smothering blanket.

'Why didn't you tell me sooner, Keyoke?' But only silence answered. By that Mara knew. Her faithful
Force Commander had feared that such news might break her if delivered all at once. And that could not
be permitted. Too many Acoma soldiers had died for her to simply give up to despair. If hopelessness
overwhelmed her, their sacrifice in the name of Acoma honour became a mockery, their death a waste.
Thrust headlong into the Game of the Council, Mara needed every shred of wit and cunning she
possessed to avoid the snares of intrigue that lay in wait for her inexperienced feet. The treachery visited
upon her house would not end until, unschooled and alone, she had defeated the Lord of the Minwanabi
and his minions.

The slaves halted in the dooryard. Mara drew a shaking breath. Head high, she forced herself to step
from the litter and enter the scrolled arches of the portico that lined the perimeter of the house. Mara
waited while Keyoke dismissed the litter and gave the orders to her escort. Then, as the last soldier
saluted, she turned and met the bow of the hadonra, her estate manager. The man was new to his post,
his squint-eyed countenance unfamiliar to Mara. But beside him stood the tiny, wizened presence of
Nacoya, the nurse who had raised Mara from childhood. Other servants waited beyond.

The impact of the change struck Mara once again. For the first time in her life, she could not fly into
the comfort of the ancient woman's arms. As Lady of the Acoma, she must nod formally and walk past,
leaving Nacoya and the hadonra to follow her up the wooden steps into the shady dimness of the great
house. Today she must bear up and pretend not to notice the painful reflection of her own sorrow in
Nacoya's eyes. Mara bit her lip slightly, then stopped herself. That nervous habit had brought Nacoya's
scolding on many occasions. Instead the girl took a breath, and entered the house of her father. The
missing echoes of his footfalls upon the polished wooden floor filled her with loneliness.

'Lady?'

Mara halted, clenched hands hidden in the crumpled white of her robe. 'What is it?'

The hadonra spoke again. 'Welcome home, my Lady,' he added in formal greeting. 'I am Jican, Lady.'

Softly Mara said, 'What has become of Sotamu?'

Jican glanced down. 'He wasted in grief, my Lady, following his Lord into death.'
 Mara could only nod once and resume her progress to her quarters. She was not surprised to learn