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

Mara's eyes narrowed, and her lips tightened; for an instant Keyoke's expression betrayed concern
that the girl might shame her father's memory by weeping before tradition permitted. But instead she
spoke quietly, her voice controlled fury. 'So my Lord of the Minwanabi seized the moment and arranged
for my father's death, despite our alliance within the War Party?'

Keyoke straightened his helm. 'Indeed, my Lady. Jingu of the Minwanabi must have ordered Tasaio
to change the Warlord's instructions. Jingu moves boldly; he would have earned Tasaio the Warlord's
wrath and a dishonourable death had our army lost that position to the barbarians. But Almecho needs
Minwanabi support in the conquest, and while he is angry with Jingu's nephew, he keeps silent. Nothing
was lost. To outward appearances, it was simply a standoff, no victor. But in the Game of the Council,
the Minwanabi triumph over the Acoma.' For the first time in her life, Mara heard a hint of emotion in
Keyoke's voice. Almost bitterly, he said, 'Papewaio and I were spared by your father's command. He
ordered us to remain apart with this small company - and charged us to protect you should matters
proceed as they have.' Forcing his voice back to its usual brisk tone, he added, 'My Lord Sezu knew he
and your brother would likely not survive the day.'

Mara sank back against the cushions, her stomach in knots. Her head ached and she felt her chest
tighten. She took a long, slow breath and glanced out the opposite side of the litter, to Papewaio, who
marched with a studied lack of expression. 'And what do you say, my brave Pape?' she asked. 'How
shall we answer this murder visited upon our house?'

Papewaio absently scratched at the scar on his jaw with his left thumb, as he often did in times of
stress. 'Your will, my Lady.'

The manner of the First Strike Leader of the Acoma was outwardly easy, but Mara sensed he wished
to be holding his spear and unsheathed sword. For a wild, angry instant Mara considered immediate
vengeance. At her word, Papewaio would assault the Minwanabi lord in his own chamber, in the midst of
his army. Although the warrior would count it as an honour to die in the effort, she shunted away the
foolish impulse. Neither Papewaio nor any other wearing the Acoma green could get within half a day's
march of the Minwanabi lord. Besides, loyalty such as his was to be jealously guarded, never
squandered.

Removed from the scrutiny of the priests, Keyoke studied Mara closely. She met his gaze and held it.
She knew her expression was grim and her face drawn and chalky, but she also knew she had borne up
well under the news. Keyoke's gaze returned forward, as he awaited his mistress's next question or
command.

A man's attention, even an old family retainer's, caused Mara to take stock of herself, without
illusions, being neither critical nor flattering. She was a fair-looking young woman, not pretty, especially
when she wrinkled her brow in thought or frowned in worry. But her smile could make her striking - or
so a boy had told her once - and she possessed a certain appealing quality, a spirited energy, that made
her almost vivacious at times. She was slender and lithe in movement, and that trim body had caught the
eye of more than one son of a neighbouring house. Now one of those sons would likely prove a
necessary ally to stem the tide of political fortune that threatened to obliterate the Acoma. With her
brown eyes half-closed, she considered the awesome responsibility thrust upon her. She realized, with a
sinking feeling, that the commodities of womankind - beauty, wit, charm, allure - must all now be put to
use in the cause of the Acoma, along with whatever native intelligence the gods had granted her. She
fought down the fear that her gifts were insufficient for the task; then, before she knew it, she was
recalling the faces of her father and brother. Grief rose up within her, but she forced it back deep.
Sorrow must keep until later.