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

Slowly, warily, the bandits approached. Between the bodies of her defenders, Mara saw lacquered
wagons gleam as an enemy force numbering five times greater than her escort closed in a half circle
around the spring.

The trickle of water was overlaid by the creak of armour and the fast, nervous breathing of tense men.
Papewaio held position by Mara's litter, a chiselled statue with drawn sword. For a long, tense minute,
movement seemed suspended. Then a man behind enemy lines barked an order; two bandits advanced
and slices the ties binding the cloth that covered the wagons. Mara felt sweat spring along her spine as
eager hands bared Acoma goods to the sunlight. Now came the most difficult moment, since for a time
her warriors must hold their line regardless of insult or provocation. Only if the outlaws threatened Mara
would the Acoma soldiers answer.

The bandits quickly realized then that no counterattack would be forthcoming. With shouts of
exultation, they hefted bags of thyza from the wagon; others edged closer to the Acoma guard, curious to
see what treasure would merit such protection. As they neared, Mara caught glimpses of grimy knuckles,
tattered cloth, and a crude and mismatched accumulation of weapons. Yet the manner in which the
blades were held indicated training and skill, and ruthless need. These were men desperate enough to kill
and die for a wagon-weight of poor-quality thyza.

A shout of unmistakable authority cut through the jubilation of the men beside the wagon. 'Wait! Let
that be!' Falling silent, the bandits turned from their booty, some with sacks of grain still clutched to their
breast.

'Let us see what else fortune had brought us this day.' A slender, bearded man who was obviously the
commander of the band broke through the ranks of his underlings and strode boldly towards the warriors
guarding Mara. He paused midway between the lines, sword at the ready and a cocky sureness to his
manner that caused Papewaio to draw himself up.
 'Steady, Pape,' Mara whispered, more to reassure herself than to restrain her Strike Leader. Stifled in
the confines of her litter, she watched the bandit make a disparaging gesture with his sword.

'What's this? Why should men with swords and armour and the honour of a great house not fight?'
The bandit commander shifted his weight, betraying underlying uneasiness. No Tsurani warrior he had
known had ever hesitated to attack, even die, since the highest accolade a fighter could earn was to
perish in battle. Another step brought him near enough to catch sight of Mara's litter. No longer puzzled,
he craned his neck, then cried, 'A woman!'

Mara's hands tightened in her lap. Head high, her pale face expressionless, she watched the bandit
leader break into a wide grin. As if a dozen warriors standing ready to dispute his conquest were no
deterrent, he spun to face his companions. 'A fine day, men. A caravan, and a captive, and not a man's
blood spilled to the Red God!'

Interested, the nearer outlaws dropped sacks of thyza and crowded together, weapons aggressively
angled towards the Acoma lines. Their commander turned in Mara's direction and shouted, 'Lady, I trust
your father or husband is loving and rich, or if not loving, then at least rich. For you are now our hostage.'

Mara jerked aside the curtain of the litter. She accepted Papewaio's hand and rose, saying, 'Your
conclusion may be premature, bandit.'

Her poise caused the outlaw leader a stab of uncertainty; he stepped back, daunted by her