"Feist,.Raymond.E.-.Serpentwar.1.-.Shadow.Of.A.Dark.Queen" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

the slain were denied their final place among their ancestors,
riding in the ranks of the Heavenly Horde.

Jarwa looked down upon the ancient home of his people
from his vantage atop the plateau. Here, less than a half day's
ride from Cibul, the ragged remnants of his once-mighty
army camped. Even in this the darkest hour of the
Empire of Grass, the presence of the Sha-shahan caused his
warriors to stand tall, throw back their heads, and look
toward the distant enemy with contempt. But no matter the
posture of these warriors

their Sha-shahan saw something in their eyes no
of the Nine Oceans had ever seen before in the
countenance of a Saaur warrior: fear.

Jarwa sighed, and turned without whis tent. Knowing full
well that no he hated to face the alien. Pau!z;
Jarwa said, 'Kaba, I have no faith in this priest from
another world.' He spit the word.
Kaba nodded, his scales grey from years of the hard life
on horseback and from serving his Sha-shahan. 'I know
you have doubts, my lord. But your Cupbearer and your
Loremaster concur. We have no choice.'
'There is always a choice,' whispered Jarwa. 'We can
choose to die like warriors!'
Softly Kaba reached out and touched Jarwa on the
arm, a familiarity that would have brought instant death
to any other warrior of the Saaur. 'Old friend,' he said
softly, 'this priest offers our children haven. We can fight
and die, and let bitter winds sing away the memory of the
Saaur. There will be no one left to chant remembrance to
the Heavenly Horde of our valor, while fiends eat our
flesh. Or we may send our remaining females and the
young males to safety. Is there another choice?'
'But he is not like us.'
Kaba sighed. 'There is something ...
'This one's blood is cold,' whispered Jarwa.
Kaba made a sign. 'The cold-blooded are creatures of
legend.'
'And what of those?' asked Jarwa, motioning to the
distant fire engulfing his capital.
Kaba could only shrug. Saying nothing more, Jarwa
led his oldest friend into the Sha-shahan's tent.
The tent was larger than any other in camp, in reality a
pavilion of many tents sewn together. Glancing around
the interior, Jarwa felt cold grip his heart. So many of his
wisest advisers and his most powerful loremasters were
missing. Yet of those who remained, all looked to him
with hope. He was Sha-shahan, and it was his duty to