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

House Acoma defeated. Neither should know you did not take final vows for a few days more, but we
cannot be sure of that. Spies may already have carried word that you have returned; if so, your enemies
are even now plotting to finish this house once and finally. Responsibilities cannot be put off. You must
master a great deal in a short time if there is to be any hope of survival for the Acoma. The name and
honour of your family are now in your hands.'

Mara tilted her chin in a manner unchanged from her childhood. She whispered, 'Leave me alone.'

Nacoya stepped to the dais. 'Child, listen to Keyoke. Our enemies are made bold by our loss, and
you've no time for self-indulgence. The education you once received to become the wife of some other
household's son is inadequate for a Ruling Lady.'

Mara's voice rose, tension making the blood sing in her ears. 'I did not ask to be Ruling Lady!'
Dangerously close to tears, she used anger to keep from breaking. 'Until a week ago, I was to be a sister
of Lashima, all I wished for in this life! If the Acoma honour must rely upon me for revenge against the
Minwanabi, if I need counsel and training, all will wait until I have visited the sacred grove and done
reverence to the memories of the slain!'

Keyoke glanced at Nacoya, who nodded. The young Lady of the Acoma was near breaking, and
must be deferred to, but the old nurse was ready to deal with even that. She said, 'All is prepared for you
in the grove. I have presumed to choose your father's ceremonial sword to recall his spirit, and
Lanokota's manhood robe to recall his.' Keyoke motioned to where the two objects lay atop a richly
embroidered cushion.

Seeing the sword her father wore at festivals and the robe presented to her brother during his
ceremony of manhood was more than the exhausted, grief-stricken girl could bear. With tears rising, she
said, 'Leave me!'

The three hesitated, though to disobey the Lady of the Acoma was to risk punishment even unto
death. The hadonra was first to turn and quit his mistress's quarters. Keyoke followed, but as Nacoya
turned to go, she repeated, 'Child, all is ready in the grove.' Then slowly she slid the great door closed.

Alone at last, Mara allowed the tears to stream down her cheeks. Yet she held her sobbing in check
as she rose and picked up the cushion with the sword and robe upon it.

The ceremony of mourning was a private thing; only family might enter the contemplation glade. But
under more normal circumstances, a stately procession of servants and retainers would have marched
with surviving family members as far as the blocking hedge before the entrance. Instead a single figure
emerged from the rear door of her quarters. Mara carried the cushion gently, her white robe wrinkled
and dirty where the hem dragged in the dust.

Even deaf and blind she would have remembered the way. Her feet knew the path, down to the last
stone fisted into the gnarled ulo tree root beside the ceremonial gate. The thick hedge that surrounded the
grove shielded it from observation. Only the Acoma might walk here, save a priest of Chochocan when
consecrating the grove or the gardener who tended the shrubs and flowers. A blocking hedge faced the
gate, preventing anyone outside from peering within.

Mara entered and hurried to the centre of the grove. There, amid a sculptured collection of
sweet-blossomed fruit trees, a tiny stream flowed through the sacred pool. The rippled surface reflected
the blue-green of the sky through curtains of overhanging branches. At water's edge a large rock sat