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

dark curtain that shrouded the entrance to the inner temple. Then, as the dazzling brilliance faded, the
gong rang again.

Fifteen more times it would be struck. Mara bit her lip, certain the kind goddess would forgive a
momentary lapse. Her thoughts were like flashing lights from broken crystals, dancing about here and
there, never staying long in one place. I'm not very good material for the Sisterhood, Mara confessed,
staring up at the statue. Please have patience with me, Lady of the Inner Light. Again she glanced at her
companion; Ura remained still and quiet, eyes closed. Mara determined to imitate her companion's
behaviour outwardly, even if she couldn't find the appropriate calm within. The gong sounded once more.

Mara sought that hidden centre of her being, her wal, and strove to put her mind at rest. For a few
minutes she found herself successful. Then the beat of the gong snatched her back to the present. Mara
shifted her weight slightly, rejecting irritation as she tried to ease her aching arms. She fought an urge to
sigh. The inner calm taught by the sisters who had schooled her through her novitiate again eluded her
grasp, though she had laboured at the convent for six months before being judged worthy of testing here
in the Holy City by the priests of the High Temple.

Again the gong was struck, as bold a call as the horn that had summoned the Acoma warriors into
formation. How brave they all had looked in their green enamelled armour, especially the officers with
their gallant plumes, on the day they left to fight with the Warlord's forces. Mara worried over the
progress of the war upon the barbarian world, where her father and brother fought. Too many of the
family's forces were committed there. The clan was split in its loyalty within the High Council, and since
no single family clearly dominated, blood politics bore down heavily upon the Acoma. The families of the
Hadama Clan were united in name only, and a betrayal of the Acoma by distant cousins who sought
Minwanabi favour was not outside the realm of possibility. Had Mara a voice in her father's counsel, she
would have urged a separation from the War Party, even perhaps an alliance with the Blue Wheel Party,
who feigned interest only in commerce while they quietly worked to balk the power of the Warlord . . .

Mara frowned. Again her mind had been beguiled by worldly concerns. She apologized to the
goddess, then pushed away thoughts of the world she was leaving behind.

Mara peeked as the gong rang again. The stone features of the goddess now seemed set in gentle
rebuke; virtue began with the individual, she reminded. Help would come only to those who truly
searched for enlightenment. Mara lowered her eyes.

The gong reverberated and through the dying shiver of harmonics another sound intruded, a
disturbance wholly out of place. Sandals scuffed upon stone in the antechamber, accompanied by the dull
clank of weapons and armour. Outside the curtain an attending priest challenged in a harsh whisper,
'Stop, warrior! You may not enter the inner temple now! It is forbidden!'
 Mara stiffened. A chilling prescience passed through her. Beneath the shelter of the tented headcloth,
she saw the priests upon the dais rise up in alarm. They turned to face the intruder, and the gong missed
its beat and fell silent.

The High Father Superior moved purposefully towards the curtain, his brow knotted in alarm. Mara
shut her eyes tightly. If only she could plunge the outside world into darkness as easily, then no one
would be able to find her. But the sound of footfalls ceased, replaced by the High Father Superior's
voice. 'What cause have you for this outrage, warrior! You violate a most holy rite.'

A voice rang out. 'We seek the Lady of the Acoma!'