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

Softly Mara said, 'We have much to talk of, Keyoke, but not here.' In the press of city traffic, enemies
might walk on every side, spies, assassins, or informants in disguise. Mara closed her eyes against the
terrors of imagination and the real world both. 'We shall speak when only ears loyal to the Acoma may
overhear.' Keyoke grunted acknowledgement. Mara silently thanked the gods that he had been spared.
He was a rock, and she would need such as he at her side.

Exhausted, Mara settled back into the cushions. She must arise above grief to ponder. Her father's
most powerful enemy, Lord Jingu of the Minwanabi, had almost succeeded in gaining one of his life's
ambitions: the obliteration of the Acoma. The blood feud between the Acoma and Minwanabi had
existed for generations, and while neither house had managed to gain the upper hand, from time to time
one or the other had to struggle to protect itself. But now the Acoma had been gravely weakened, and
the Minwanabi were at the height of their power, rivalling even the Warlord's family in strength. Jingu was
already served by vassals, first among them the Lord of the Kehotara, whose power equalled that of
Mara's father. And as the star of the Minwanabi rose higher, more would ally with him.

For a long while Mara lay behind the fluttering curtains, to all appearances asleep. Her situation was
bitterly clear. All that remained between the Lord of the Minwanabi and his goal was herself, a young girl
who had been but ten chimes from becoming a sister of Lashima. That realization left a taste in her mouth
like ash. Now, if she were to survive long enough to regain family honour, she must consider her
resources and plot and plan, and enter the Game of the Council; and somehow she must find a way to
thwart the will of the Lord of one of the Five Great Families of the Empire of Tsuranuanni.

Mara blinked and forced herself awake. She had dozed fitfully while the litter travelled the busy
streets of Kento-sani, the Holy City, her mind seeking relief from the stress of the day. Now the litter
rocked gently as it was lowered to the docks.

Mara peeked through the curtains, too numb to find pleasure in the bustle of the throngs upon the
dockside. When she had first arrived in the Holy City, she had been enthralled by the multi-coloured
diversity found in the crowd, with people from every corner of the Empire upon every hand. The simple
sight of household barges from cities up and down the river Gagajin had delighted her. Bedecked with
banners, they rocked at their moorings like proudly plumed birds amid the barnyard fowl as busy
commercial barges and traders' boats scurried about them. Everything, the sights, the sounds, the smells,
had been so different from her father's estates - her estates now, she corrected herself. Torn by that
recognition, Mara hardly noticed the slaves who toiled in the glaring sun, their sweating, near-naked
bodies dusted with grime as they loaded bundled goods aboard the river barges. This time she did not
blush as she had when she had first passed this way in the company of the sisters of Lashima. Male
nudity had been nothing new to her; as a child she had played near the soldiers' commons while the men
bathed and for years she had swum with her brother and friends in the lake above the needra meadow.
But seeing naked men after she had renounced the world of flesh seemed somehow to have made a
difference. Being commanded to look away by the attending sister of Lashima had made her want to
peek all the more. That day she had to will herself not to stare at the lean, muscled bodies. But today the
bodies of the slaves failed to fascinate, as did the cries of the beggars who called down the blessings of
the gods on any who chose to share a coin with the less fortunate. Mara ignored the rivermen, who
sauntered by with the swaggering gait of those who spent their lives upon the water, secretly
contemptuous of land dwellers, their voices loud and edged with rough humour. Everything seemed less
colourful, less vivid, less captivating, as she looked through eyes suddenly older, less given to seeing with
wonder and awe. Now every sunlit facade cast a dark shadow. And in those shadows enemies plotted.

Mara left her litter quickly. Despite the white robe of a novice of Lashima, she bore herself with the