"Stephen Goldin - Storyteller" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goldin Stephen)

“And internally?” Shammara persisted, chewing lightly on one well-manicured nail. “Could Ahmad spark
an uprising within the city to topple us?"

“My spies are always alert to the faintest signs of subversion,” the wali said. “The prince's strongest
backers have been neutralized, and most of the common people don't care. Any uprising he could stir
would be weak and readily squashed. We've planned too well to be easily toppled."
Shammara sat silently for several minutes, staring intently at the tapestry on the wall across from her. The
blue, white, and red floral designs soothed somewhat her troubled mind. At last she looked again at the
wali. “According to the reports, Ahmad had some magical help in his escape. If he uses that against
us—"

“No magic can avail him against the walls of Ravan."

After another brief silence, Shammara said, “Then since there's little Ahmad can do against us, we can
ignore him for the moment. Let's take Basir's word at face value and pretend we believe it. He'll be
blissfully content to think he's fooled us, and it gives us a lever to use against him at some later date,
should we need it."

“And if Ahmad should return to claim his throne?"

“We'll denounce him as an obvious impostor and kill him before he steps within the gates,” Shammara
said. “After all, we'll have the word of a king that thereal Ahmad was murdered by thieves. I'm sure you
can handle anyone who disputes our actions."

“Unquestionably.” The wali smiled, stroking his thick beard with pleasure.

But Shammara still could not feel totally at ease and, after dismissing the wali, she paced the room like a
caged tigress. Making a decision, she clapped her hands to summon a servant, and commanded him to
fetch Yusef bin Nard, her personal astrologer—and acting high priest now that Umar bin Ibrahim was out
of the city.

Yusef bin Nard came quickly at her summons; sweating, disheveled, breathless, he arrived within the
hour. The priest was flabby, with soft, pasty skin; the white priestly robes and turban of his calling
seemed somehow too large for him, swallowing him up in their folds and adding to the aura of
ineffectualness he showed. Bin Nard was intellectually a eunuch, but he was Shammara's main tie into the
priesthood—and he had other uses as well.

Although as acting high priest bin Nard possessed a great deal of nominal authority, he looked distinctly
uncomfortable in the presence of the woman who was the acknowledged ruler of the Holy City.
Shammara tried her best to put him at ease by wearing much more discreet and demure clothing than
she'd worn for the wali, and by keeping her tone light and conversational. “Sit down, O worthy priest,
and chat with me some moments about Oromasd's plans for the city of Ravan."

Yusef bin Nard moved awkwardly as he settled himself cross-legged on a pillow in front of her diwan.
“How may I help you, O gracious lady?” he asked.

“It's about the forecast you made for me a year ago,” Shammara said. “Do you remember it?"

“Oh yes, I remember being startled. The forecast said your son would be the next king of Ravan. I've