tw.thestoneoffarewell-第130部分

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ortal；　something　which　Jiriki　had　said　was　unprecedented；　a　binding　between　their　two　races　unknown　for　centunes。　Now　Simon；　a　mortal；　had　e　to　forbidden　Jao　e…Tinukai'i。
　　Ki'ushapo　and　Sijandi　might　not　approve　of　his　being　here；　but　they　knew　he　had　saved　their　prince　Jiriki；　and　they　knew　Simon　was　Hikka　Staja；　an　Arrow…Bearer…so　why　should　they　avoid　him　so　pletely？　If　Simon　was　wrong　in　his　identification；　it　should　still　be　simple　enough　for　the　real　pair　to　seek　him　out；　since　he　was　the　only　one　of　his　kind　among　their　folk。　Were　they　so　angry　at　his　being　here　that　they　could　not　even　greet　him？　Were　they　in　some　way　embarrassed　for　Jiriki；　that　the　prince　should　have　brought　such　a　creature　to　their　secret　valley？　Then　why　did　they　not　say　so；　or　say　something？　At　least　Jiriki's　uncle　Khendraja'aro　made　his　dislike　of　mortals　plain　and　public。
　　Thinking　of　these　slights　put　Simon　in　a　foul　humor。　He　muddled　his　way　up　the　stream　bank；　fuming。　It　took　all　his　restraint　not　to　turn　back　to　the　river…watching　Sitha　and　shove　his　handsome；　alien　face　into　the　mud。
　　Simon　struck　out　across　the　valley；　not　with　any　idea　of　escape　this　time；　but　rather　to　walk　off　some　of　his　restless　irritation。　His　stiff…legged　strides　carried　him　past　several　more　Sithi。　Most　walked　by　themselves；　although　a　few　strolled　in　unspeaking　pairs。　Some　looked　at　him　with　unblinking　interest；　others　did　not　seem　to　notice　him　at　all。　One　group　of　four　sat　quietly　listening　to　the　singing　of　a　fifth；　their　eyes　intent　on　the　delicate　gliding　movements　of　the　singer's　hands。
　　Merciful　Aedon；　he　grumbled　to　himself；　what　are　they　thinking　about　all　the　time？　They're　worse　than　Doctor　Morgenes！　Although　the　doctor；　too；　had　been　prone　to　long　silences；　unbroken　but　for　his　distracted；　tuneless　humming；　at　least　at　the　end　of　a　day　he　would　unstop　a　jug　of　beer　and　teach　Simon　some　history；　or　make　suggestions　about　his　apprentice's　rather　blobby　handwriting。
　　Simon　kicked　a　fir　cone　and　watched　it　roll。　He　did　have　to　admit　that　the　Sithi　were　beautiful。　Their　grace；　the　flowing　line　of　their　garments；　their　serene　faces；　all　made　him　feel　like　some　mud…covered　mongrel　bumping　against　the　table　linens　of　a　great　lord's　house。　Though　his　captivity　infuriated　him；　sometimes　a　cruel　inner　voice　whispered　that　it　was　only　justice。　He　had　no　right　to　be　in　this　place；　and　having　e；　an　urchin　like　Simon　should　never　be　allowed　to　return　and　sully　the　immortals　with　his　tales。　Like　Jack　Mundwode's　man　Osgal　in　the　story；　he　had　gone　down　into　a　fairy…mound。　The　world　could　never　be　the　same。
　　Simon's　pace　slowed　from　an　angry　march　to　a　slouch。　Before　long；　he　began　to　hear　the　steady　ringing　of　water　on　stone。　He　looked　up　from　his　grass…stained　boots　to　discover　that　he　had　wandered　right　across　the　valley　into　the　shade　of　the　hills。　A　stirring　of　hope　made　itself　felt　inside　him。　He　was　near　the　Pools；　as　Aditu　had　called　them；　the　Summer　Gate　stood　nearby。　It　seemed　that　by　not　thinking　about　finding　his　way　out；　he　had　been　able　to　do　what　he　had　failed　so　miserably　to　acplish　in　days　past。
　　Trying　to　imitate　the　degree　of　not…caring　that　had　brought　him　this　far；　Simon　wandered　off　the　path；　angling　toward　the　sound　of　splashing　water；　staring　up　into　the　overarching　trees　with　what　he　hoped　was　suitable　nonchalance。　Within　a　few　steps　he　had　left　the　sunlight　and　entered　the　cool　shadow　of　the　hills；　where　he　made　his　way　up　grass…　tangled　slopes　carpeted　in　shy　blue　gilly…flowers　and　white　starblooms。　As　the　song　of　falling　water　grew　louder　he　had　to　restrain　himself　from　breaking　into　a　run；　instead；　he　stopped　to　rest　against　a　tree；　precisely　as　if　he　were　in　the　middle　of　a　contemplative　walk。　He　stared　at　the　stripes　of　　sunshine　lancing　down　through　the　leaves　and　listened　to　his　own　gradually　slowing　breath。　Then；　just　when　he　had　nearly　forgotten　where　he　was　going…did　he　only　fancy　that　he　could　hear　the　rush　of　water　suddenly　increase？…he　started　up　the　hill　once　more。
　　As　he　reached　the　summit　of　this　first　slope；　certain　that　he　would　see　the　bottommost　of　the　Pools　before　him；　he　found　himself　standing　instead　on　the　rim　of　a　circular　valley。　The　valley's　upper　slopes　were　covered　by　a　host　of　white　birch　trees　whose　leaves　were　just　now　turning　summer…yellow。　They　rattled　softly　in　the　breeze；　like　bits　of　golden　parchment。　Beyond　the　birches；　the　next　level　of　the　valley　was　thickly　grown　with　silvery…leaved　trees　that　trembled　as　the　wind　continued　its　sweep　down　toward　the　valley　floor。
　　At　the　base　of　the　circular　valley；　in　the　depths　within　the　ring　of　silver　leaves；　lay　a　vegetative　darkness　that　Simon's　eyes　could　not　pierce。　Whatever　things　grew　there　also　took　the　wind　in　their　turn：　a　sort　of　clattering　whisper　arose　from　the　valley's　shadowed　deeps；　a　sound　that　might　have　been　the　scraping　of　breeze…blown　leaves　and　branches；　or　just　as　easily　the　hiss　of　a　thousand　slim　knives　being　drawn　from　a　thousand　delicate　sheaths。
　　Simon　let　out　his　pent…up　breath。　The　scent　of　the　valley　rose　up　to　him；　musty　and　bittersweet。　He　caught　the　smell　of　growing　things；　a　pungent　odor　like　mown　grass；　but　also　a　deep　and　intoxicating　spiciness　reminiscent　of　the　bowls　of　hippocras　Morgenes　had　mulled　on　cold　evenings。　He　took　another　whiff　and　felt　strangely　drunken。　There　were　other　scents；　too；　a　dozen；　a　hundred…he　could　smell　roses　growing　against　an　old　stone　wall；　stable　muck；　rain　puffing　on　dusty　ground；　the　salty　tang　of　blood；　and　the　similar　but　by　no　means　identical　odor　of　sea…brine。　He　shivered　like　a　wet　dog　and　felt　himself　drawn　a　few　steps　down　the　slope。
　　〃I　am　sorry。　You　may　not　go　there。〃
　　Simon　whirled　to　see　a　Sitha…woman　standing　on　the　hilltop　behind　him。　For　a　moment　he　thought　it　was　Aditu。　This　one　wore　a　wisp　of　cloth　around　her　loins　and　nothing　else。　Her　skin　was　red…golden　in　the　slanting　sunlight。
　　〃What。。。？〃
　　〃You　may　not　go　there。〃　She　spoke　his　mortal　tongue　carefully。　There　was　no　ill　humor　on　her　face。　〃I　am　sorry；　but　you　may　not。〃　She　took　a　step　forward　and　looked　at　him　curiously。　〃You　are　the　Sudhoda'ya　who　saved　Jiriki。〃
　　〃So？　Who　are　you？〃　he　asked　sullenly。　He　didn't　want　to　look　at　her　breasts；　her　slim　but　well…muscled　legs；　but　it　was　nearly　impossible　not　to。　He　felt　himself　growing　angry。
　　〃My　mother　named　me　Maye'sa；〃　she　said；　making　each　word　too　precisely；　as　if　Simon's　language　were　a　trick　she　had　learned　but　never　before　performed。　Her　white　hair　was　streaked　with　gold　and　black。　Staring　at　her　long；　coiled　tresses…a　safe　place　to　let　his　eyes　rest…Simon　suddenly　realized　that　all　the　Sitha　had　white　hair；　that　the　myriad　of　different　rainbow　colors　that　made　them　seem　like　outlandish　birds　were　just　dyes。　Even　Jiriki；　with　his　odd；　heather…flower　shade…dyes！　Artifice！　Just　like　the　harlot…women　that　Father　Dreosan　had　ranted　about　during　his　sermons　in　the　Hayholt　chapel！　Simon　felt　his　anger　deepening。　He　turned　his　back　on　the　Sicha…woman　and　started　downward　into　the　valley。
　　〃e　back；　Seoman　Snowlock；〃　she　called。　〃That　is　the　Year…Dancing　Grove。　You　may　not　go　there。〃
　　〃Stop　me；〃　he　growled。　Maybe　she　would　put　an　arrow　in　his　back。　He　had　seen　Aditu's　terrifying　facility　with　a　bow　just　a　few　mornings　before；　when　Jiriki's　sister　had　put　four　arrows　side　by　side　into　a　tree　limb　at　fifty　paces。　He　had　little　doubt　that　others　of　her　sex　were　just　as　petent；　but　at　this　moment　he　cared　little。　〃Kill　me　if　you　want　to；〃　he　added；　then　wondered　if　such　a　remark　might　strain　his　luck。 Half…hunching　his　shoulders；　he　strode　down　the　slope　into　the　whispering　birches。　No　arrow　came；　so　he　risked　a　backward　look。　The　one　called　Maye'sa　still　stood　where　he　had　left　her。　Her　thin　face　seemed　puzzled。
　　He　began　to　run　down　the　hillside；　past　row　after　row　of　white；　papery…barked　trunks。　After　a　moment；　he　noticed　that　the　slope　was　leveling　off。　When　he　found　himself　beginning　to　run　uphill　he　stopped；　then　walked　until　he　found　a　spot　from　which　he　could　look　about　and　discover　where　he　was。　The　entirety　of　the　great　bowl　still　lay　beneath　him；　but　he　had　somehow　moved　around　the　valley's　rim　from　the　spot　where　the　Sitha…woman　stood；　watching。
　　Swearing　in　fury；　he　started　down　the　slope　once　more；　but　experienced　the　same　feeling　of　leveling；　swiftly　followed　by　the　resumption　of　an　upward　slant。　He　had　gotten　no　closer　to　the　bottom…he　was　still；　as　far　as　he　could　tell；　only　a　third　of　the　way　through　the　ring　of　birch　trees。
　　Attempts　to　turn　away　from　the　uphill　slope　also　met　with　failure。　The　wind　sighed　in　the　branches；　the　birch　leaves　rustled；　and　Simon　felt　himself　struggling　as　though　in　a　dream；　making　no　headway　despite　all　his　exertions。　At　last；　in　a　paroxysm　of　frustration；　he　closed　his　eyes　and　ran。　His　terror　turned　into　a　moment　of　heady　exhilaration　as　he　felt　the　ground　sloping　away　beneath　his　feet。　Tree　branches　slapped　at　his　face；　but　some　peculiar　luck　kept　him　from　striking　any　of　the　hundreds　of　trunks　that　lay　in　the　path　of　his　headlong　flight。
　　When　he　stopped　and　opened　his　eyes；　he　was　back　at　the　top　of　the　hillside　once　more。　Maye'sa　stood　before　him；　her　gauzy　bit　of　skirt　fluttering　in　the　restless　breeze。
　　〃I　told　you；　you　may　not　go　into　the　Year…Dancing　Grove；〃　she　said；　explaining　a　painful　truth　to　a　child。　〃Did　you　think　you　could？〃　Stretching　her　sinuous　neck；　she　shook　her　head。　Her　eyes　were　wide；　inquisitive。　〃Strange　creature。〃
　　She　vanished　back　down　the　hillside　toward　Jao　e…Tinukai'i。　A　few　moments　later；　Simon　followed。　Head　down；　watching　his　boot　toes　scuffing　through　the　grass；　he　soon　found　himself　standing　on　the　path　before　Jiriki's　house。　Evening　was　ing　on　and　the　crickets　were　singing　by　the　river…pond。
　　〃Very　good；　Seoman；〃　Aditu　said　the　next　day。　She　examined　the　shent　board；　nodding。　〃Misdirection！　To　go　away　from　that　which　you　wish　to　gain。　You　are　learning。〃
　　〃It　doesn't　always　work；〃　he　said　glumly。
　　Her　eyes　glittered。　〃No。　Sometimes　you　need　a　deeper　strategy。　But　it　is　a　beginning。〃
　　
　　
　　Binabik　and　Sludig　had　not　e　far　into　the　forest；　only　deep　enough　to　shelter　their　camp　from　the　bitter　wind　sweep