"Gray, Julia - Guardian 03 - The Crystal Desert" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gray Julia)

Both ranks bristled with weaponry, but many swords had not yet been drawn. Even from Terrel's position to the rear of the battle lines, it was obvious that neither side really wanted an all-out conflict - which would mean
both clans sustaining heavy casualties that they could ill afford. It was a stand-off, but it seemed that honour had to be satisfied before any peaceful solution could be reached.
'Is this the hospitality of the Toma?' a young man asked, stepping forward from the raiders' line. He had the face of a predator, and an air of natural authority that marked him as their leader.
'Leave all your weapons here in the sand,' Algardi suggested, moving forward in turn to assume his role as his clan's spokesman. 'Then come into our camp. We'll have a feast in your honour.'
It was a hollow offer, and both sides knew it, but the ancient laws had been respected.
'You're carrying a few blades yourselves,' the young man pointed out. 'Should we disarm in the face of such a threat?'
'We have every right to defend what is ours, Kohtala,' Algardi responded. 'It is you who walk against the winds by approaching in this way.'
The raider's face registered surprise that his adversary knew his name. Then he smiled, as if proud of the fact that his fame was spreading.
'You would be right if this was yours to defend,' he said, waving a hand to indicate the camp and the land surrounding it.
'You would deny that?' the elder exclaimed, as the rest of the Toma muttered angrily.
'This vale and the well in it are within the boundaries of our territory,' Kohtala explained. 'If you are to drain the life from our land, then we expect your tribute in return.'
This statement provoked several cries of outrage from among the nomads, but Algardi waved them to silence.
'The life of this place belongs to no man and to all men,' he said. 'We have been coming here by ancient right for generations.'
'Then it seems you're behind on the rent,' Kohtala commented, to the amusement of his followers.
'We do not pay for what is already ours.'
'The Shiban are masters of all this region. Opposing us would be a mistake. I propose that you pay us one adult camel for each day you remain here.'
Once again the Toma voiced their opinion of this suggestion.
'I have it on good report,' Kohtala went on, raising his voice over their objections, 'that you've already been here for three days, so you owe us three camels.'
'No,' Algardi replied flatly.
'More if you intend to stay longer,' the raider added implacably. 'And do not think to palm us off with lame or sick beasts.'
'We will pay no tribute, because none is due,' Algardi declared. 'Your father would never have countenanced this.'
'Times change,' Kohtala observed. 'You should stop living in the past, old man.'
The raider's insolence incensed many of the nomads. Terrel saw the fury in Zahir's face, and was glad when some of the older men held him back. Although the Toma were angered by Kohtala's words, they would wait for the outcome of the debate before taking any action.
'You would do well to agree to my terms,' the raider said. 'They are more than generous. If you don't, we'll take what's due to us - and more.'
'You would do well not to wrong us,' Algardi countered. 'The Toma bear a grudge for a long time.'
Kohtala laughed.
'You're not likely to be around for a long time if you deny us,' he remarked. 'Even if you run away like cowards, the outer wells are drying up. You might as well try to ride the Road of Hope.'
This comment caused more amusement among the raiders, but only roused the Toma to an even greater level of indignation.
'Our curse will follow you even if we cannot!' Algardi cried.
'Oh, now you're really frightening me,' Kohtala mocked, pretending to tremble with alarm.
'You should be afraid,' the elder spluttered.
'Really? And just who will place this curse? Your shaman's been asleep for years, as good as dead. Your empty threats carry no weight.'
'The dome will not look down on law-breakers. Withdraw or be judged.'
These brave words were directed at Kohtala from behind the nomads' ranks, but their overall effect was rather spoilt by the wavery, high-pitched tone in which they were delivered. Everyone turned to see who had spoken, but Terrel, who was closer than most, knew immediately. Mlicki had come out of Vilheyuna's tent, and was walking towards the centre of the conflict. In itself that meant nothing, and the interruption would have been seen as an undignified breach of custom were it not for the fact that he had donned the shaman's headdress.
Because the woven cap had been made to fit another head, it sat low on Mlicki's forehead, and his face was partially obscured by the many strands of twine that bore the eyes and ears of legend. In reality these were an eclectic mixture of dried leaves, seed pods, slivers of bone, feathers and colourful pieces of cloth, but they represented the shaman's ability to see and hear things that other men could not - including the past and the future, the thoughts of the winds, the memories of sand and the approaching fury of storms.
As Mlicki passed by, Terrel could see that his friend was trembling and, even though it was half hidden, the boy's face was a mask of fear. Even as murmurs of surprise ran through the gathering, Terrel wondered what had given the shaman's assistant the courage to put on the symbol of his master's power.
By now several of the Toma were showing signs of outrage at Mlicki's presumption. To proclaim himself a shaman, especially in such fraught circumstances, was a very serious undertaking, and there were clearly many who felt that the outsider had no right to do so - even if Vilheyuna had chosen him to be his apprentice. Even so, the automatic reverence inspired by the headdress meant that no one was prepared to stand in the boy's way, and the crowd parted to let him through.
When the raiders saw who it was, most of them burst out laughing, but Kohtala was obviously insulted by this latest development, and his face distorted into a snarl of rage.
'What's this?' he roared, the tone of his cry silencing the mirth of his followers. 'You send a child to threaten me?'
Mlicki came to stand beside Algardi, and fixed the Shiban's leader with his unnerving stare. None of the Toma spoke. Even Algardi had been struck dumb, and it was left to Mlicki himself to answer.
'Our shaman lives in spirit,' he declared. 'Through me.' His voice was a little stronger now, though it was clear he was still very nervous.
'A one-eyed brat?' Kohtala exclaimed, refusing to meet the boy's gaze and glaring instead at Algardi. 'Is this the best you can do?'
The elder's expression changed then, and Terrel knew that an important decision had been made.
'He has been chosen,' Algardi stated clearly. 'You risk much, doubting the words of a shaman.'
This unexpected endorsement made Mlicki stand taller, and the uncertainty on the faces of many nomads was replaced by growing defiance. Terrel wasn't sure whether Algardi really believed that Mlicki now wielded a shaman's power, or whether he was just going along with the boy's foolhardy bluff, but either way, he had chosen his stance. It was up to Mlicki to back up his claims - if he could.
'He is no shaman!' Kohtala shouted, but some of his earlier confidence had deserted him now. 'We risk nothing in doubting him. He can't even heal his own disfigurement.'
'My eye sees beyond the winds,' Mlicki claimed. 'Why would I wish to heal such a gift?'
'Quiet, boy!' the raider yelled. 'Go back to your mother, and leave this to men.'
His tone was dismissive, but by including the boy's mother in his insult, Kohtala had unwittingly made a serious error.
'I can see your future,' Mlicki said, pride and anger giving his voice an edge of steel. 'And I can curse your days. You will not mock me then.'