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

dignity expected of the Lady of the Acoma. She kept her eyes forward as she moved towards the barge
that would take her downriver, to Sulan-Qu. Papewaio cleared a path for her, roughly shoving common
workers aside. Other soldiers moved nearby, brightly coloured guardians who conducted their masters
from the barges to the city. Keyoke kept a wary eye upon them as he hovered near Mara's side while
they crossed the dock.

As her officers ushered her up the gangplank, Mara wished for a dark, quiet place in which to
confront her own sorrow. But the instant she set foot upon the deck, the barge master hustled to meet
her. His short red and purple robe seemed jarringly bright after the sombre dress of the priests and sisters
in the convent. Jade trinkets clinked on his wrists as he bowed obsequiously and offered his illustrious
passenger the finest accommodation his humble barge permitted, a pile of cushions under a central
canopy, hung round by gauzy curtains. Mara allowed the fawning to continue until she had been seated,
courtesy requiring such lest the man unduly lose face. Once settled, she let silence inform the barge
master his presence was no longer required. Finding an indifferent audience to his babble, the man let fall
the thin curtain, leaving Mara a tiny bit of privacy at last. Keyoke and Papewaio sat opposite, while the
household guards surrounded the canopy, their usual alertness underscored by a grim note of
battle-ready tension.

Seeming to gaze at the swirling water, Mara said, 'Keyoke, where is my father's . . . my own barge?
And my maids?'

The old warrior said, 'The Acoma barge is at the dock in Sulan-Qu, my Lady. I judged a night
encounter with soldiers of the Minwanabi or their allies less likely if we used a public barge. The chance
of surviving witnesses might help discourage assault by enemies disguised as bandits. And should
difficulty visit us, I feared your maids might prove a hindrance.' Keyoke's eyes scanned the docks while
he spoke. 'This craft will tie up at night with other barges, so we will never be upon the river alone.'

Mara nodded, letting her eyes close a long second. Softly she said, 'Very well.' She had wished for
privacy, something impossible to find on this public barge, but Keyoke's concerns were well founded.

Lord Jingu might sacrifice an entire company of soldiers to destroy the last of the Acoma, certain he
could throw enough men at Mara's guards to overwhelm them. But he would only do so if he could
assure himself of success, then feign ignorance of the act before the other Lords of the High Council.
Everyone who played the Game of the Council would deduce who had authored such slaughter, but the
forms must always be observed. One escaped traveller, one Minwanabi guard recognized, one chance
remark overheard by a poleman on a nearby barge, and Jingu would be undone. To have his part in such
a venal ambush revealed publicly would lose him much prestige in the council, perhaps signalling to one of
his 'loyal' allies that he was losing control. Then he could have as much to fear from his friends as from his
enemies. Such was the nature of the Game of the Council. Keyoke's choice of conveyance might prove
as much a deterrent to treachery as a hundred more men-at-arms.

The barge master's voice cut the air as he shouted for the slaves to cast off the dock lines. A thud and
a bump, and suddenly the barge was moving, swinging away from the dock into the sluggish swirl of the
current. Mara lay back, judging it acceptable now to outwardly relax. Slaves poled the barge along, their
thin, sun-browned bodies moving in time, coordinated by a simple chant.

'Keep her to the middle,' sang out the Merman.

'Don't hit the shore,' answered the poleman.