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

insisted she bring the knife, though the hastily shortened straps had been fashioned for a larger arm and
the hilt felt clumsy in her hand. Overheated, and suddenly uncertain, she permitted Papewaio to help her
to her feet.

The ground before the spring was pocked by the prints of men and animals that had baked hard in the
sun after the rainy season. While Papewaio drew a dipper of water, his mistress jabbed the earth with her
sandal and wondered how many of the marks had been made by stock stolen from Acoma pastures.
Once she had overheard a trader describe how certain clans in the north notched the hooves of their
livestock, to assist trackers in recovering stolen beasts. But until now the Acoma had commanded the
loyalty of enough warriors to make such precautions unnecessary.

Papewaio raised a dripping container of water. 'My Lady?'

Roused from reflection, Mara sipped, then wet her fingers and sprinkled water upon her cheeks and
neck. Noon was well past, and slanting sunlight carved the soldiers into forms of glare and shadow. The
wood beyond lay still, as if every living thing slept through the afternoon heat. Mara shivered, suddenly
chilled as the water cooled her skin. If bandits had lain waiting in ambush, surely they should have
attacked by now; an unpleasant alternative caused her to look at her Strike Leader in alarm.

Tape, what if the grey warriors have circled behind us and attacked the Acoma estates while we
travelled upon the road?'

The warrior set the crockery dipper on a nearby stone. The fastenings of his armour squeaked as he
shrugged, palms turned skywards to indicate that plans succeeded only at the whim of fate. 'If bandits
attack your estates, all honour is lost, Lady, for the best of your warriors have been committed here.' He
glanced at the woods, while his hand fell casually to the hilt of his sword. 'But I think it unlikely. I have
told the men to be ready. The day's heat lessens, but no leafhoppers sing within the wood.' Suddenly a
bird hootedly loudly overhead. 'And when the karkak cries, danger is near.'
 A shout erupted from the trees at the clearing's edge. Mara felt strong hands thrust her backwards
into the litter. Her bracelets snagged the silken hangings as she flung out a hand to break her fall.
Awkwardly tumbled against the cushions, she jerked the material aside and saw Papewaio whirl to
defend her, his sword gliding from its scabbard. Overturned by his foot, the dipper spun and shattered
against a stone. Fragments pelted Mara's ankles as the swords of her warriors hissed from their sheathes
to meet the attack of the outlaws who charged from cover.

Through the closing ranks of her defenders, Mara glimpsed a band of men with drawn weapons
running towards the wagons. Despite being dirty, thin, and raggedly clad, the raiders advanced in
well-organized ranks. The ravine echoed with shouts as they strove to break the line of defenders. Fine
cloth crumpled between Mara's hands. Her warriors were many times outnumbered. Aware that her
father and brother had faced worse battles than this on the barbarian world, she strove not to flinch at the
crack of sword upon sword. Papewaio's voice prevailed over the confusion, his officer's plume readily
visible through the press; at his signal, the battle-hardened warriors of the Acoma gave way with almost
mechanical discipline.

The attack faltered. With no honour to be gained from retreat, the usual Tsurani tactic was to charge,
not assume a defensive posture; the sight of wagons being abandoned warned the ruffians to caution.
Enclosed by the green-armoured backs of her escort, Mara heard a high-pitched shout. Feet slapped
earth as the attackers checked. Except for the unarmed drivers, and the cringing presence of the
water-bearer, the wagons had been abandoned without dispute; seemingly the warriors had withdrawn to
defend the more valuable treasure.