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

done as you asked and not told anyone about the forecast; we didn't want to alarm anyone."

“Your discretion is to be commended,” Shammara told him. “At the time, of course, we were both
shocked at the thought that Prince Ahmad might not inherit the throne. But now I have begun to wonder.
There's been no news from Marakh, no word that the prince and his party arrived there safely, and that
reminded me of your forecast. It's frightening to think how accurate you might be."

“The great lord Oromasd places the signs in the heavens,” bin Nard said modestly. “It's we poor mortals
who must read them as best we can."

“I was wondering,” Shammara said, “whether you could elaborate a little more on that forecast. Could
you read the stars and tell what Prince Ahmad's destiny is to be? Will he return safely to us with his new
bride? Will there be any conflict between him and Haroun—or between him and me, for that matter? I
would hate the thought of bloodshed within the Holy City."

“I shall draw the casts immediately and let you know upon the morrow,” bin Nard promised, and
withdrew to his chambers to accomplish the task.

True to his word, he returned to Shammara the next day with his forecasts. “As I believe I explained to
you before,” he began, “we in Ravan live in an unusual situation. Because our city is protected by the
magical spells of Ali Maimun, any readings regarding the city are clouded by strange uncertainties. Prince
Ahmad is now beyond the city, and all the signs I see say that the path of his life will never intersect with
that of Ravan again. The heavens appear to be telling me that Prince Ahmad will never return. I cannot
see further than that; he is beyond my scope, I'm afraid."

“And what of me and Haroun?” Shammara asked. “What will happen to us?"

“Again there are clouds, but it seems certain you will both live out your lives and die here in Ravan.
Haroun will be the next king, and I see no signs of civil strife to mar his rule."

“If we are indeed to lose Prince Ahmad, then the rest of your forecast is welcome news,” Shammara
said. “I am in your debt, O noble Yusef. The Temple of the Faith is going through an exhaustive
procedure right now, isn't it?"

Bin Nard nodded. “The thief who stole the reliquary urn polluted the Bahram fire. We're having to
consecrate a new fire, and that can take more than a year."

“If there's anything I can do to facilitate your efforts, please feel free to call on me. As you know from
our discussions, I've always felt that the priesthood must be well looked after in the Holy City."

Yusef bin Nard's greed showed through his fear as he expressed his appreciation of such religious
devotion. With her usual caution Shammara masked her elation. Now that she had secured the
priesthood with the bending of this weak man, she had completed the tripod of support she needed:
priesthood, police, and civil bureaucracy.

She saw bin Nard to the door, then turned and smiled. Calling for her maids she went to her bath
chuckling over the wali's slip of the tongue yesterday. While it was true she would never officially be
queen, it was also true that few queens had ever held the power she was gathering—and none had ever
attained it by her own hand as Shammara would do.