"06 - Wings of Omen (a)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asprin Robert)

beyari was perched beside a black bird half-again its size. There was an
occasional flutter of wings and much head-bobbing, but neither bird was giving
ground. The storyteller was no regular bird-watcher; it seemed unlikely that the
two could mate-but they certainly weren't fighting. Perhaps-

"Hakiem!"

He jerked his attention back to the court, discovering that the business had
been concluded and the parties dismissed. Shupansea, Beysa of the Beysib Empire,
had risen onto one elbow from the supine position in which she traditionally
conducted state affairs and was staring at him with her large, amber, and
inhumanly unblinking eyes. She was young, not past her mid-twenties, slender,
and fair-skinned with thigh-length blonde hair that cascaded onto the pillows in
a way that only the finest of silks could hope to imitate. Her breasts were
bare, in the Beysib tradition, and so firm with youth that even when she moved
the dark, tattooed nipples regarded him as steadily as her eyes.

Of course, Hakiem was himself sufficiently advanced in age that such a sight
left him unmoved-almost.

"Yes, 0 Empress?"

He gave a slight bow, cutting his thoughts, and his glance, short before either
progressed too far. As a street storyteller he had always been polite to those
who gave him a few coppers in return for his entertainments. Now, with the hefty
stipend he was receiving in gold, he was a paradigm of courtesy. .

"Come, stand beside us," she said, holding out a dainty hand. "We fear we will
need your advice in this next matter."

Hakiem bowed again and proceeded to her side with unhurried dignity. As he
walked he took secret delight in the jealous stares directed at him from the
other courtiers. During his short time at court, the storyteller and the Empress
had developed a mutual respect for each other. More importantly, they found they
liked each other, a condition which had brought Hakiem favored treatment.
Privately he suspected that his elevated status was not so much a compliment to
him as it was the Beysa's way of keeping her own clanfolk in line, but he
reveled in the attention while he had it.

The next petitioners were ushered in and, dutifully, Hakiem directed his
attention to the problems at hand. He did not know the three Beysib in the group
save they weren't clan Burek aristocrats and therefore must be Setmur fishermen.
The townspeople he recognized at once as the pillars of Sanctuary's fishing
community: Terci, Omat, and the one everyone called the Old Man. Usually
citizens of Sanctuary appeared at court in the company of Beysib clansmen when
one group or the other had a serious grievance to air, but this group radiated
no animosity at all.

"Greetings, Monkel Setmur, Clanchief," Shupansea intoned in the singsong pidgin
Rankene which passed for a common dialect these days in the city. "Too long have