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

The litter swayed slightly as the slaves started towards the river, threading an efficient course through
the throng who travelled the streets of the Holy City. They moved past carts pulled by sluggish,
six-legged needra and were passed in turn by running messengers and trotting porters with bundles held
aloft on shoulder or head, hurrying their loads for clients who paid a premium for swift delivery.

The noise and bustle of commerce beyond the gates jolted Mara afresh; within the shelter of the
temple, the shock of Keyoke's appearance had not fully registered.

Now she battled to keep from spilling tears upon the cushions of the litter as understanding
overwhelmed her. She wanted not to speak, as if silence could hide the truth. But she was Tsurani, and
an Acoma. Cowardice would not change the past, nor forever stave off the future. She took a breath.
Then, drawing aside the curtain so she could see Keyoke, she voiced what was never in doubt.

'They are both dead.'

Keyoke nodded curtly, once. 'Your father and brother were both ordered into a useless assault
against a barbarian fortification. It was murder.' His features remained impassive, but his voice betrayed
bitterness as he walked at a brisk pace beside his mistress.

The litter jostled as the slaves avoided a wagon piled with jomach fruit. They turned down the street
towards the landing by the river while Mara regarded her clenched hands. With focused concentration,
she willed her fingers to open and relax. After a long silence she said, 'Tell me what happened, Keyoke.'

'When the snows on the barbarian world melted we were ordered out, to stand against a possible
barbarian assault.' Armour creaked as the elderly warrior squared his shoulders, fighting off remembered
fatigue and loss, yet his voice stayed matter-of-fact. 'Soldiers from the barbarian cities of Zun and LaMut
were already in the field, earlier than expected. Our runners were dispatched to the Warlord, camped in
the valley in the mountains the barbarians call the Grey Towers. In the Warlord's absence, his
Subcommander gave the order for your father to assault the barbarian position. We - '

Mara interrupted. 'This Subcommander, he is of the Minwanabi, is he not?'

Keyoke's weathered face showed a hint of approval as if silently saying, you're keeping your wits
despite grief.

'Yes. The nephew of Lord Jingu of the Minwanabi, his dead brother's only son, Tasaio.' Mara's eyes
narrowed as he continued his narrative. 'We were grossly outnumbered. Your father knew this - we all
knew it - but your father kept honour. He followed orders without question. We attacked. The
Subcommander promised to support the right flank, but his troops never materialized. Instead of a
coordinated charge with ours, the Minwanabi warriors held their ground, as if preparing for
counterattack. Tasaio ordered they should do so.

'But just as we were overwhelmed by a counterattack, support arrived from the valley, elements of
the forces under the banner of Omechkel and Chimiriko. They had no hint of the betrayal and fought
bravely to get us out from under the hooves of the barbarians' horses. The Minwanabi attacked at this
time, as if to repulse the counterattack. They arrived just as the barbarians retreated. To any who had not
been there from the start, it was simply a poor meeting with the barbarian enemy. But the Acoma know it
was Minwanabi treachery.'