tw.thestoneoffarewell-第103部分

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　too。　The　alchemist　uses　me…or　thinks　he　does。〃
　　Thunder　pealed　again　in　the　distance　as　Elias　stepped　away　from　the　window　and　laid　his　hand　on　Guthwulfs　arm。　The　earl　could　feel　the　radiating　cold　right　through　his　heavy　sleeve。　〃But　I　do　not　want　Pryrates　to　kill　you；〃　the　king　said；　〃…and　kill　you　he　would；　make　no　mistake。　His　courier　arrived　today　from　Nabban。　The　letter　tells　me　that　negotia…　tions　with　the　lector　are　going　very　well；　and　that　Pryrates　will　be　back　in　a　few　days。　That　is　why　it　was　a　happy　thought　to　send　you　out　to　the　High　Thrithings　at　the　head　of　my　knights。　Young　Fengbald　was　pressing　for　the　mand；　but　you　have　always　been　of　great　service　to　me；　and…more　importantly…you　will　then　be　out　of　the　red　priest's　path　until　he　has　done　what　I　need。〃
　　〃I　am　grateful　for　the　chance　to　serve；　my　king；〃　Guthwulf　said　slowly；　several　kinds　of　anger　and　fear　swelling　venomously　within　him。　To　think　that　the　Earl　of　Utanyeat　had　e　to　such　sneaking　and　bowing！
　　What　if　he　were　to　grab　Elias；　he　thought　suddenly；　wildly…just　grab　the　king　and　then　fling　himself　over　the　window's　low　railing；　both　of　them　plunging　down　over　a　hundred　cubits　to　smash　like　eggs。　Usires　the　Ransomer；　what　a　relief　it　would　be　to　end　this　festering　brain…sickness　that　had　crept　all　through　the　Hayholt　and　through　Guthwulf　himself！　His　mind　reeled。　Aloud；　he　only　said：　〃Are　you　sure　that　these　rumors　of　your　brother　are　not　just　that？　Rumors　only；　the　imaginings　of　plaining　peasants？　I　find　it　hard　to　believe　that　anything　could　have　survived。。。　could　have　survived　Naglimund。〃　One　step；　he　thought；　just　one；　then　the　two　of　them　would　be　gliding　down　through　the　heavy　air。　It　would　all　be　over　in　moments　and　the　long　dark　sleep　would　begin。。。
　　Elias　moved　away　from　the　window；　breaking　the　spell。　Guthwulf　felt　chill　sweat　beading　on　his　forehead。　〃I　do　not　heed　'rumors；'　my　dear　Utanyeat。　I　am　Elias　the　High　King；　and　I　know。〃　He　stalked　to　a　window　on　the　tower's　far　side；　one　that　faced　southeast；　into　the　teeth　of　the　wind。　His　hair　swirled；　black　as　a　crow's　wing。　〃There。〃　He　pointed　out　across　the　choppy；　leaden…hued　Kynslagh　into　the　murky　distance。　A　flash　of　lightning　briefly　illuminated　the　deep　wells　of　his　eyes。　〃Josua　lives；　indeed；　and　he　is　somewhere。。。　out。。。　there。　I　have　received　word　from　a　trusted　source。〃　Thunder　came；　chasing　the　lightning。　〃Pryrates　tells　me　my　energies　could　be　better　spent。　He　tells　me　not　to　worry　about　my　brother。　If　I　had　not　seen　a　thousand　kinds　of　proof　of　Pryrates'　black　and　empty　heart；　I　would　think　he　felt　sorry　for　Josua；　so　strongly　does　he　argue　against　this　mission。　But　I　will　do　as　I　please。　I　am　the　king　and　I　want　Josua　dead。〃　Another　lightning　flare　etched　his　face；　which　was　twisted　like　a　ritual　mask。　The　king's　voice　strained；　for　a　moment　it　seemed　that　only　his　white…knuckled　grasp　upon　the　stone　sill　kept　him　from　toppling。　〃And　I　want　my　daughter　back。　Back。　I　want　Miriamele　back。　She　has　disobeyed　her　father；　joining　with　his　enemies。。。　with　my　enemies。　She　must　be　punished。〃
　　 Guthwulf　could　think　of　nothing　to　say。　He　nodded　his　head；　trying　to　dispel　the　terrible　thoughts　that　now　surged　within　him　like　a　well　filling　with　black　water。　The　king　and　his　cursed　sword！　Even　now；　Guthwulf　felt　the　blade's　presence　sickening　him。　He　would　go　to　the　Thrithings　and　hunt　for　Josua；　if　that　was　what　Elias　wished。　At　least　he　would　be　out　of　this　horrible　castle　with　its　night　sounds；　its　fearful　servants　and　mad；　mourning　king。　He　would　be　able　to　think　again。　The　earl　would　breathe　unsullied　air　and　keep　the　pany　of　soldiers　once　more；　men　with　whose　thoughts　and　conversation　he　was　fortable。
　　Thunder　rang　through　the　chamber；　setting　the　bells　to　humming。　〃I　will　do　as　you　say；　my　king；〃　he　said。
　　〃Of　course；〃　Elias　nodded；　calm　again。　〃Of　course。〃
　　
　　
　　Scowling　Guthwulf　had　gone　away；　but　the　king　stayed　for　some　time；　staring　out　into　the　cloudy　sky；　listening　to　the　wind　as　carefully　as　if　he　understood　its　mournful　tongue。　Rachel；　Mistress　of　Chambermaids；　was　beginning　to　feel　very　unfortable　in　her　cramped　hiding　place。　Still；　she　had　learned　what　she　needed　to　know。　Her　mind　was　full　of　ideas　quite　beyond　her　usual　concerns：　lately；　Rachel　the　Dragon　had　found　herself　thinking　thoughts　she　had　never　dreamed　possible。
　　Wrinkling　her　nose　against　the　harsh　but　familiar　scent　of　polishing　grease；　she　peeked　out　of　the　crack　between　the　stone　doorframe　and　the　warped　wooden　door。　The　king　was　still　as　a　statue；　gazing　off　into　nothingness。　Rachel　was　again　filled　with　horror　at　her　own　transgression。　Spying　like　the　most　slatternly；　brought…in…just…for…the…holy…days　servant　girl！　And　on　the　High　King！　Elias　was　the　son　of　her　beloved　King　John…even　if　he　couldn't　hope　to　match　up　to　his　father…and　Rachel；　the　Hayholt's　last　bastion　of　rectitude；　was　spying　on　him。
　　 The　thought　make　her　feel　faint　and　weak；　the　odoriferous　grease　did　not　help。　She　leaned　against　the　wall　of　the　bell…ringer's　closet　and　was　grateful　for　its　narrow　confines。　Between　the　stacks　of　rope；　the　bell　hooks　and　grease　pots　and　brick　walls　standing　close　at　either　shoulder；　she　could　not　topple　over　even　if　she　tried。　She　had　not　meant　to　spy；　of　course…not　really。　She　had　heard　the　voices　as　she　was　examining　the　woefully　dirty　stairs　at　Green　Angel　Tower's　third　floor。　She　had　stepped　quietly　out　of　the　spiraling　passageway　into　a　curtained　alcove　so　as　not　to　seem　to　be　listening　to　the　king's　business；　for　she　had　recognized　Elias'　voice　almost　immediately。　The　king　had　climbed　past；　speaking　as　though　to　the　grinning　monk　Hengfisk　who　acpanied　him　everywhere；　but　his　words　had　seemed　like　babbling　nonsense　to　Rachel。　〃Whispers　from　Nakkiga；〃　he　had　said；　and　〃songs　of　the　upper　air。〃　He　had　spoken　of　〃listening　for　the　cry　of　the　witnesses；〃　and　〃the　day　of　the　hilltop　bargain　ing　soon；〃　and　of　things　even　less　understandable。
　　The　pop…eyed　monk　followed　at　the　king's　bootheels；　as　he　always　did　these　days。　The　mad　words　of　Elias　washed　over　him；　but　the　monk　only　nodded　ceaselessly　as　he　scrambled　along　behind…the　king's　grinning　shadow。
　　Fascinated　and　excited　in　a　way　she　had　not　felt　for　some　time；　Rachel　had　found　herself　following　through　the　shadows　a　few　ells　behind　the　pair　as　they　climbed　what　seemed　a　thousand　steps　up　the　tower's　long　stairway。　The　king's　litany　of　inprehensibles　had　continued　until　at　last　he　and　the　monk　disappeared　into　the　bell　chamber。　Feeling　her　age　and　the　throbbing　of　her　infirm　back；　she　had　remained　on　the　floor　below。　Leaning　against　the　oddly…tiled　stone　walls；　fighting　for　breath；　she　had　wondered　again　at　her　own　boldness。　An　open　workroom　lay　before　her。　A　great　pulley　had　been　spread　in　pieces　on　top　of　a　sawdust…mantled　block；　a　sledge　lay　on　the　floor　nearby；　as　though　its　owner　had　disappeared　in　midswing。　There　was　only　the　main　room　and　a　curtained　alcove　beside　the　stairwell：　thus；　when　the　monk　suddenly　came　pattering　back　down　the　steps；　there　had　truly　been　no　choice　but　to　bolt　for　the　alcove。
　　At　the　far　end　of　the　niche　she　had　discovered　a　wooden　ladder　leading　up　into　darkness。　Knowing　she　was　caught　between　the　king　above　and　whoever　his　cupbearer　might　bring　from　below；　she　had　seen　no　other　choice　but　to　climb　upward　in　search　of　a　more　secure　hiding　place：　anyone　walking　too　close　to　the　alcove　might　brush　the　curtain　aside　and　reveal　her；　delivering　Rachel　up　to　humiliation　or　worse。
　　Worse。　The　thought　of　the　heads　rotting　like　black　fruit　atop　Nearulagh　gate　spurred　her　old　bones　up　the　ladder；　which　turned　out　to　lead　straight　to　the　bell…ringer's　closet。
　　So　it　had　not　really　been　her　fault；　had　it？　She　had　not　truly　meant　to　spy…she　had　been　virtually　forced　to　listen　to　Elias'　confusing　conversation　with　the　Earl　of　Utanyeat。　Surely　good　Saint　Rhiap　would　understand；　she　told　herself；　and　would　intercede　on　Rachel's　behalf　when　it　came　time　to　read　from　the　Great　Scroll　in　Heaven's　anteroom。
　　She　peered　out　through　the　door…crack　again。　The　king　had　moved　to　another　window…this　one　facing　north；　into　the　churning　black　heart　of　the　approaching　storm…but　otherwise　seemed　no　nearer　to　leaving。　Rachel　was　beginning　to　feel　panicky。　People　used　to　say　that　Elias　spent　many　sleepless　nights　at　work　with　Pryrates　in　Hjeldin's　Tower。　Was　it　the　king's　particular　madness　to　walk　around　in　towers　until　the　break　of　dawn？　It　was　only　afternoon　now。　Rachel　felt　another　bout　of　dizziness。　Was　she　to　be　trapped　in　here　forever？
　　Her　eyes；　wildly　darting；　lit　upon　something　carved　on　the　inside　of　the　bolted　door　and　widened　in　surprise。
　　Somebody　had　scratched　the　name　Miriamele　into　the　wood。　The　letters　were　cut　deeply；　as　though　whoever　had　done　it　had　been　trapped　like　Rachel；　fidgeting　away　the　time。　But　who　would　be　here　in　the　first　place　that　might　do　such　a　thing？
　　For　a　moment　she　thought　of　Simon；　remembering　how　the　boy　would　climb　like　an　ape　and　get　into　trouble　that　others　could　not　even　find。　He　had　loved　Green　Angel　Tower…wasn't　it　just　a　bit　before　King　John　died　that　Simon　had　knocked　over　Barnabas　the　sexton　downstairs？　Rachel　smiled　faintly。　The　boy　had　been　a　very　devil。
　　Thinking　of　Simon；　she　abruptly　remembered　what　the　chandler's　boy　Jeremias　had　said。　The　smile　dissolved　from　her　face。　Pryrates。　Pryrates　had　killed　her　boy。　When　she　thought　of　the　alchemist；　Rachel　felt　a　hatred　that　burned　and　bubbled　like　quicklime；　a　hatred　quite　unlike　anything　she　had　ever　felt　in　her　life。
　　Rachel　shook　her　head；　dizzied。　It　was　horrifying　to　think　about　Pryrates。　What　Jeremias　told　her　about　the　hairless　priest　gave　her　ideas；　black　thoughts　she　had　not　known　she　was　capable　of　thinking。
　　Frightened　by　the　power　of　her　feelings；　she　forced　her　attention　back　to　the　wall　carving。
　　Squinting　at　the　careful　letters；　Rachel　decided　that；　whatever　other　mischief　Simon　had　gotten　into；　this　carving　was　not　his　doing。　It　was　far　too　neat。　Even　with　Morgenes'　instruction；　Simon's　writing　had　wandered　across　a　page　like　a　drunken　beetle。　These　letters　were　made　by　someone　educated。　But　who　would　carve　the　princess'　name　in　such　an　out　of　the　way