"Raymond E. Feist - Empire Saga 2 - Servant Of The Empire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

To Lujan, the gallery with its deep shade and rows of
wooden benches was less a refuge than a place of concealing
darkness. He lightly touched his mistress on the shoulder as
she reached the first landing. She turned, and flashed a
bothered look of inquiry.

'Lady,' said Lujan tactfully, 'if an enemy is waiting, best
we show them my sword before your beautiful face.'

Mara's mouth turned upward at the corners, almost but
not quite managing a smile. 'Flatterer,' she accused. 'Of
course you are right.' Her formality with Lujan became
gentled by humour. 'Though among Jican's protests was the
belief I would come to harm from the barbarian slaves, not
another Ruling Lord.'

She referred to the inexpensive Midkemian prisoners of
war. Mara lacked the funds to buy enough common slaves
to clear her pastures. So, seeing no other alternative, she
chose to buy barbarians. They were reputed to be intractable,
rebellious, and utterly lacking in humility toward their
masters. Lujan regarded his Lady, who was barely as high as
his shoulder, but who possessed a nature that could burn the
man - Lord or slave or servant- who challenged her
indomitable will. He recognized the purposeful set of her
dark eyes. 'Still, in you the barbarians will have met their
match, I wager.'

'If not, they will all suffer under the whip,' Mare said with
resolve. 'Not only would we forfeit the use of the lands we
need cleared before spring, we would lose the price of the
slaves. I will have done Desio's work for him.' Her rare
admission of doubt was allowed to pass without comment.

Lujan preceded his mistress into the gallery, silently
checking his weapons. The Minwanabi might be licking
their wounds, but Mara had additional enemies now, lords
jealous of her sudden rise, men who knew that the Acoma
name rested upon the shoulders of this slender woman and
her infant heir. She was not yet twenty-one, their advisers
would whisper. Against Jingu of the Minwanabi she had
been cunning, but mostly lucky; in the fullness of time her
youth and inexperience would cause her to misstep. Then
would rival houses arise like a pack of jaguna, ready to tear
at the wealth and the power of her house and bury the
Acoma natami - the stone inscribed with the family crest
that embodied its soul and its honour - face down in the
dirt, forever away from sunlight.