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

Her command was a blatant flouting of tradition; Papewaio obeyed in silence. To the gardener, who
stood fidgeting uneasily, she said, 'Remove the assassin's body from the glade.' With a sudden vicious
urge to strike at something, she added, 'Strip it and hang it from a tree beside the road as a warning to
any spies who may be near. Then cleanse the natami and drain the pool; both have been defiled. When
all is returned to order, send word to the priests of Chochocan to come and reconsecrate the grove.'

Though all watched with unsettled eyes, Mara turned her back. Nacoya roused first. With a sharp
click of her tongue, she escorted her young mistress into the cool quiet of the house. Papewaio and
Keyoke looked on with troubled thoughts, while the gardener hurried off to obey his mistress's
commands.

The two assistant gardeners coiled the ropes, exchanging glances. The ill luck of the Acoma had not
ended with the father and the son, so it seemed. Mara's reign as Lady of the Acoma might indeed prove
brief, for her enemies would not rest while she learned the complex subtleties of the Game of the Council.
Still, the assistant gardeners seemed to silently agree, Such matters were in the hands of the gods, and the
humble in life were always carried along in the currents of the mighty as they rose and fell. None could
say such a fate was cruel or unjust. It simply was.



The moment the Lady of the Acoma reached the solitude of her quarters, Nacoya took charge. She
directed servants who bustled with subdued efficiency to make their mistress comfortable. They prepared
a scented bath while Mara rested on cushions, absently fingering the finely embroidered shatra birds that
symbolized her house. One who did not know her would have thought her stillness the result of trauma
and grief; but Nacoya observed the focused intensity of the girl's dark eyes and was not fooled. Tense,
angry, and determined, Mara already strove to assess the far-reaching political implications of the attack
upon her person. She endured the ministrations of her maids without her usual restlessness, silent while
the servants bathed her and dressed her wounds. A compress of herbs was bound around her bruised
and lacerated right hand. Nacoya hovered anxiously by while Mara received a vigorous rub by two
elderly women who had ministered to Lord Sezu in the same manner. Their old fingers were surprisingly
strong; knots of muscular tension were sought out and gradually kneaded away. Afterwards, clothed in
clean robes, Mara still felt tired, but the attentions of the old women had eased away nervous exhaustion.

Nacoya brought chocha, steaming in a fine porcelain cup. Mara sat before a low stone table and
sipped the bitter drink, wincing slightly as the liquid aggravated her bruised throat. In the grove she had
been too shocked by the attack to feel much beyond a short burst of panic and fear. Now she was
surprised to discover herself too wrung out to register any sort of reaction. The slanting light of afternoon
brightened the paper screens over the windows, as it had throughout her girlhood. Far off, she could hear
the whistles of the herdsmen in the needra meadows, and near at hand, Jican's voice reprimanding a
house slave for clumsiness. Mara closed her eyes, almost able to imagine the soft scratch of the quill pen
her father had used to draft instructions to distant subordinates; but Minwanabi treachery had ended such
memories forever. Reluctantly Mara acknowledged the staid presence of Nacoya.

The old nurse seated herself on the other side of the table. Her movements were slow, her features
careworn. The delicate seashell ornaments that pinned her braided hair were fastened slightly crooked, as
reaching upwards to fix the pin correctly became more difficult with age. Although only a servant,
Nacoya was well versed in the arts and subtlety of the Game of the Council. She had served at the right
hand of Lord Sezu's lady for years, then raised his daughter after the wife's death in childbirth. The old
nurse had been like a mother to Mara. Sharply aware that the old nurse was waiting for some comment,