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

Again Jican glanced at Keyoke; but the Force Commander and his bodyguard stood like sun-cured
ulo wood, facing correctly forward. Struggling to master his agitation, the hadonra of the Acoma
appealed to his mistress. 'Lady, the mountain road is dangerous. Bandits lurk in the woods in good
number, and we lack enough warriors to drive them out. To guard such a caravan would leave this estate
unprotected. I must advise against it.'

With a girlish smile, Mara swung away from the fountain. 'But the caravan shall not strip our defences.
Papewaio will head a company of hand-picked men. A dozen of our better soldiers should be sufficient
to keep the bandits away. They've raided our herds and will not need food, and wagons without large
numbers of guards obviously carry goods of little value.'

Jican bowed, his narrow face immobile. 'Then we would be wise to send no guards at all.' His manner
concealed sharp disbelief; he dared the dishonour of his mistress's displeasure to dissuade her from folly.

'No.' Mara wrapped dripping fingers in the rich folds of her robe. 'I require an honour guard.'

Jican's face twisted with shock that vanished almost instantly. That his mistress intended to go along
on this venture indicated that sorrow had stripped her of wits.

'Go now, Jican,' said Mara. 'Attend to my commands.'

The hadonra peered sideways at Keyoke, as if certain the Lady's demand would provoke protest.
But the old Force Commander only shrugged slightly, as if to say, what is to be done?

Jican lingered, though honour forbade him to object. A stern look from Mara restored his humility. He
bowed swiftly and departed, his shoulders drooping. Yesterday the Lady of the Acoma had deemed his
judgement worthy of praise; now she seemed bereft of the instincts Lashima gave to a needra.

The servants in attendance kept proper silence, and Keyoke moved no muscle beneath the nodding
plumes of his helm. Only Papewaio met his mistress's eye. The creases at the corners of his mouth
deepened slightly. For a moment he seemed about to smile, though all else about his manner remained
formal and unchanged.
 3


Innovations


Dust swirled.

The brisk breeze did nothing to cut the heat, and stinging grit made the needra snort. Wooden wheels
squealed as the three wagons comprising Mara's caravan grated over the gravel road. Slowly they
climbed into the foothills, leaving behind the flat lands . . . and the borders of the Acoma estates. Brightly
lacquered green spokes caught the sunlight, seeming to wink as they turned, then slowed as rocks
impeded their progress. The drovers yipped encouragement to the needra, who rolled shaggy-lashed
eyes and tried to balk as pasture and shed fell behind. The slaves carrying Mara's litter moved steadily,
until rough terrain forced them to slow to avoid jostling their mistress. For reasons the slaves could not
imagine, their usually considerate Lady was ordering a man-killing pace, determined to see the caravan
through the high passes before nightfall.