"Kate Elliott - Jaran 2 - An Earthly Crown" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elliott Kate)

Aleksi, with some disappointment, realized that the woman soldier's coloring was
as dark as her uncle's. Where was Tess?
Six men and one woman, soldiers all, sat under the awning. In front of them, on a
single pillow at the edge of the awning, half under the awning, half out under the open
sky, sat the man on whom all attention was fixed. Ilyakoria Bakhtiian absorbed the
force of their regard effortlessly. And yet, even at such a distance, Aleksi felt
Bakhtiian's presence so strongly that it was as if Bakhtiian was standing right next to
him.
"Come on," he said to Feodor, and he led the other man around the fringe of the
assembly. No one paid them any mind. At the tent, etsanas and dyans came up in
pairs to pledge their loyalty to Bakhtiian's war, and to be pledged to, his allegiance to
their tribe, in return.
When they were about fifteen paces from the tent, off to the side, Aleksi stopped
Feodor with a touch to the elbow, settled down on his haunches, and waited.
Ilyakoria Bakhtiian sat cross-legged on a square pillow embroidered with stylized
horses intertwined, galloping, racing. His expression was composed, but intent. One
open, one curled into a loose fist, his hands lay as still as if they were carved in stone,
in contrast to the restless, passionate intelligence that blazed from his eyes. To his
right, propped up on a little stand of wood, rested a carved wooden staff somewhat
longer than a man's arm.
After an endless time, sun and wind beating down on them, only the Ten Eldest
Tribes had yet to speak. There was a silence. The tinkling of bells whispered like the
murmuring of the gods, watching over them. From somewhere in the middle of the
assembly, Aleksi heard the soft droning chant of priests, intoning the endless cycle of
the gods: Mother Sun and Father Wind, Aunt Cloud and Uncle Moon, Sister Tent and
Brother Sky, Daughter Earth and Son River, Cousin Grass and Cousin Rain. Here and
there in the crowd Aleksi identified the glazed stare of a man or a woman who was
memorizing each word to pass on to the tribes. Even one of Bakhtiian's personal
commanders, Josef Raevsky, had that vacant expression on his face, although he was
a soldier and not a Singer.
Abruptly, Bakhtiian rose.
"Ah," breathed Aleksi, realizing what Bakhtiian meant to do. He glanced at
Feodor, to see if his companion also appreciated the coming gesture on Bakhtiian's
part. But Grekov was staring like any besotted fool straight at Bakhtiian's niece. The
woman shifted slightly and glanced their way, and immediately Grekov's gaze
dropped and he stared down at the ground.
Like an echo of his niece, Bakhtiian shifted his attention from the assembly and
turned his head to look straight at Aleksi. Even knowing that most of the audience
must have turned as well, to see what was attracting
Bakhtiian's attention, Aleksi could not feel their stares at all. Bakhtiian's
overwhelmed everything else.
Aleksi stood up. He did not fear Bakhtiian, but he respected him, and he was
grateful to him for never once objecting to the way in which Aleksi had become a
member of his tribe. Aleksi valued Bakhtiian's protection almost as much as he valued
that granted him by his new sister. Bakhtiian gestured with his left hand, and his niece
jumped to her feet and walked briskly over to Aleksi. Feodor Grekov climbed hastily
to his feet as well. He kept his gaze fixed on his boots.
"Aleksi," said Nadine by way of greeting, "You've come from camp."
"Sergei Veselov is dead."
"Ah," she replied. Then she grinned, and Aleksi grinned back, liking her because