"Tamora Pierce - Daughter Of The Lioness 02 - Tricksters Queen" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pierce Tamora)

leaned against the bow rail, taking in her surroundings through green-hazel eyes. Despite her white skin,
she was dressed like a native raka in sarong, sash, and wrapped jacket. The sarong displayed her neat, if
thin, figure—one with the curves that drew male eyes. The calf-length garment also showed muscled legs
and trim ankles protected by leather slippers. Her jacket, worn against the chill of the spring air, covered
her muscular upper arms, while the loose areas of her clothes hid an assortment of flat knives designed
for her needs. She had a small, delicate nose, inherited from her mother, just as her eyes were her
father's. The wide mouth, its lower lip fuller than the upper, was all hers, with smiles tucked into the
corners. Her reddish gold hair was cut just below her earlobes to fit her head like a helmet.

Aly looked the soul of repose as she lounged against the rail, but her eyes were busy. She swiftly took in
the panorama of Rajmuat as the city came into view. It sprawled over half of the C-shaped harbor,
arranged on the rising banks like offerings laid on green steps. Steam rose from the greenery as the
early-morning sun heated damp jungle earth. Patches of white and rose pink stucco marked newer
houses, while the older houses, built of wood and stone, sported roofs that were sharply peaked and
sloping, like the wings of some strange sitting bird. The higher the ground, the more complex the roof,
with lesser roofs sprouting beneath the main one. The roofs of the wealthier houses blazed with gilt paint
in the sun. Strewn among the homes were the domed, gilded towers of Rajmuat's temples.

Above them all stood the main palace of the Kyprin rulers. Its walls, twenty feet thick, patrolled by alert
guardsmen day and night, gleamed like alabaster. The rulers of the Isles were not well liked. They
required the protection of strong walls.
 In the air over the great harbor, winged creatures wheeled and soared, light glancing off their
metal-feathered wings. Aly’shaded her eyes to look at them. These were Stormwings, harbingers of war
and slaughter, creatures with steel feathers and claws whose torsos and heads were made of flesh. They
lived on human pain and fear. In the Copper Isles, ruled by the heavy-handed Rittevons and their luarin
nobles, the Stormwings were assured of daily meals. Aly hummed to herself. There had been plenty of
Stormwings when she and the Balitangs had sailed north a year before. Now there were a great many
more. From the news she had gathered on their voyage to Rajmuat, she wasn't surprised. The regents,
Prince Rubinyan and Princess Imajane, had spent the winter rains executing anyone who might give them
trouble, in the name of their four-year-old king. Aly nodded in silent approval. It was so useful when the
people in charge helped her plans along.

The Stormwings reminded her that she was not on deck to sightsee. Aly turned her head to the left. Here
a fortress guarded the southern side of the harbor entrance. Beyond it, on a short stone pier, stood the
posts called Examples. Each harbor had them, public display areas where those who had vexed the
government were executed and left on display. In Rajmuat, the capital of the Isles, the Examples were
reserved for the nobility. They were surrounded on land by a stone wall broken by a single gate. Over
the gate, a banner flapped on the dawn breeze, a rearing bat-winged horse of metallic copper cloth,
posed on a white field with a copper border— the flag of the Rittevon kings of the Copper Isles.

Guards streamed through the gate and onto the pier. At the foot of one of the posts men were arguing,
waving their arms and pointing. They wore the red-painted armor of the King's Watch, the force charged
with keeping the peace, enforcing the law, and conducting executions. Aly narrowed her eyes to sharpen
her magical Sight. The power was her heritage from both parents, and allowed her to read the lips of the
men and take note of their insignia. She identified four lieutenants, one captain, and a number of
men-at-arms who did their best to pretend they were invisible.

Someone sniffed behind her. "Carrion crows," Lady Sarai Balitang remarked scornfully. "What, are they
fighting over who gets the 'honor' of displaying the next wretch? Or just over who does the mopping?"
Sarai moved up to stand beside Aly at the rail, her brown eyes blazing with dislike as she watched the