"Stephen Lawhead - Dragon King 02 - The Warlords of Nin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lawhead Stephen)

“I believe that it will. I want to believe it. Though it seems sometimes
that the work goes so slowly. There is so much to be done. We could use
more hands.”
“But look how much has been accomplished since we came here. And
every year our numbers grow. Whist Orren blesses our efforts with his
own.”
It was true. The work of restoring the ancient city and populating it with
people who shared the dream of rebuilding it to its former glory, of
studying the ways of the Ariga and their god—that was going on at a fine
pace. Much had been done in ten years’ time.
The work of a lifetime, however, still remained. And that was what
pricked Quentin’s impatience.
They met Quentin’s stooped old teacher where he stood waiting for
them at the gate of his courtyard. His face beamed when he saw the two
young men striding up. “Hello! Hello, my friends!” cried Yeseph, running
out to meet them. “I have been waiting for you. You are the first to arrive.
I was hoping that would be the case. I wanted to talk to you both.”
He drew them into the shady courtyard and led them to stone benches
under a spreading tree. The yard was spotless and furnished as nicely as
any garden could be whose owner loved plants and flowering things.
“Sit down, please. Sit. Omani!” Yeseph clapped his hands when his
guests had seated themselves beneath the tree. A slim young girl appeared
with a tray of wooden goblets and a stone carafe. She floated forward with
an easy grace and laid the tray at Yeseph’s elbow where he sat. “You may
pour, bright one,” he said gently.
The girl poured and served the beverages around. She turned to leave
and Yeseph called after her, “See that the meal is prepared when the others
arrive, it will not be long now, I think.” She bowed and retreated into the
house, smiling all the while.
The Curatak did not have servants. But often young girls or boys would
attach themselves to the households of older Curatak leaders or craftsmen
to serve and learn at their hand, until they decided what they wished to do
with their lives. In that way those who needed the assistance of a servant
did not lack, and young people found useful occupation until they could
enter the adult world.
Yeseph watched the girl disappear into his darkened doorway a little
wistfully. Quentin noticed his look and commented, “She’s a very able
helper, Yeseph. You are blessed.”
“Yes, and I am sorry to lose her.”
“Why would you lose her?”
“Why not? She is nearly eighteen. She wishes to be married soon. Next
summer perhaps. She and Rulan, a former pupil of mine. He is a good
young man, very intelligent. It will be a good match. But I will lose a
wonderful cook and companion. I feel she is my own daughter.”
“Why don’t you get married again?” asked Toli.
Yeseph suddenly looked flustered. “Who has been talking to you?”
“No one. I merely wondered.”
“Well, it is true nonetheless. That is what I wanted to tell you. I am to be
married. I am announcing the banns tonight.”
“Congratulations!” shouted Quentin, jumping to his feet. He crossed the