tw.thestoneoffarewell-第34部分

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　　Tiamak　sat　dumbstruck；　staring　at　the　message。　He　read　it　two　more　times；　hoping　it　would　miraculously　say　something　different；　but　the　words　remained　unchanged。　Go　to　Kwanitupul！　But　the　elders　had　or…　dered　him　to　Nabban！　There　was　no　one　else　in　his　tribe　who　could　speak　the　drylander　languages　well　enough　to　serve　as　an　emissary。　And　what　would　he　tell　his　tribesmen…that　some　drylander　they　didn't　know　had　told　him　to　go　wait　for　instructions　at　Kwanitupul；　that　this　was　reason　enough　to　turn　his　back　on　his　people's　wishes？　What　did　the　League　of　the　Scroll　mean　to　Wrannamen？　A　circle　of　drylander　scholars　who　talked　of　old　books　and　older　events？　His　people　would　never　understand。
　　But　how　could　he　ignore　the　gravity　of　the　summons？　His　friend　in　Nabban　had　been　explicit…had　even　said　that　this　was　what　Morgenes　wanted　him　to　do。　Without　Morgenes；　Tiamak　would　never　have　sur…　vived　his　year　m　Perdruin；　let　alone　gained　the　wonderful　fellowship　to　which　the　doctor　had　introduced　him。　How　could　he　not　do　this　one　thing…this；　the　only　favor　Morgenes　had　ever　asked　of　him？
　　The　hot　air　was　pushing　in　at　the　windows　like　a　hungry　beast。　Tiamak　folded　the　note　and　slipped　it　into　his　sheath。　He　must　attend　to　Ink…daub。　Then　he　would　think。　Perhaps　it　would　be　cooler　as　evening　drew　closer。　Surely　he　could　wait　one　more　day　before　leaving；　wherever　he　was　to　go？　Surely？　Tiamak　wrapped　the　bird's　small　body　in　oil　palm　leaves；　then　wound　it　in　a　length　of　thin　cord。　He　stilted　through　the　shallows　to　a　sandbar　behind　his　house；　where　he　set　the　bundle　of　leaves　on　a　rock　and　surrounded　it　with　bark　and　precious　strips　of　old　parchment。　After　uttering　a　prayer　for　Ink…daub's　spirit　to　She　Who　Waits　to　Take　All　Back；　he　used　his　flint　and　steel　to　set　the　tiny　pyre　aflame。
　　As　the　smoke　coiled　upward；　Tiamak　reflected　that　there　was　something　to　be　said　for　the　old　ways　after　all。　If　nothing　else；　they　provided　something　to　do　at　a　time　when　the　mind　was　weary　and　hurting。　For　a　moment；　he　was　even　able　to　push　aside　the　troubling　thoughts　of　duty；　feeling　instead　a　strange　sort　of　peace　as　he　watched　Ink…daub's　smoke　take　flight；　rising　slowly　into　the　feverish　gray　sky。　
　　Soon；　though；　the　smoke　was　gone　and　the　ashes　were　scattered　across　the　green　water。
　　
　　When　Miriamele　and　her　two　panions　came　down　off　the　hill　path　onto　the　North　Coast　Road；　Cadrach　jogged　his　mount　ahead；　putting　several　lengths　between　himself　and　Dinivan　and　the　princess。　The　morning　sun　was　at　their　backs。　The　horses　Dinivan　had　brought　trotted　along　with　heads　waving；　nostrils　wide　to　catch　the　scents　on　the　early　breeze。
　　〃Ho；　Padreic！〃　Dinivan　shouted；　but　the　monk　did　not　reply。　His　round　shoulders　bounced　up　and　down。　His　hood　was　lowered　as　if　he　hung　his　head　in　thought。　〃Very　well；　then…Cadrach！〃　the　priest　called；　〃why　do　you　not　ride　with　us？〃
　　Cadrach；　a　graceful　horseman　despite　his　bulk　and　short　legs；　reined　up。　When　the　other　two　had　nearly　caught　him；　he　turned。
　　〃It　is　a　problem　with　names；　brother；〃　he　said；　showing　his　teeth　in　an　angry　smile。　〃You　call　me　by　one　that　belongs　to　a　dead　man。　The　princess；　well　now；　she's　given　me　a　new　one…〃traitor〃…and　baptized　me　with　it　in　Emettin　Bay　to　seal　the　bargain。　So　you　see；　don't　you；　it　would　be　all　too　confusing；　this…one　might　say…multiplicity　of　names。〃
　　With　an　ironic　bow　of　the　head；　he　dug　his　heels　into　his　horse's　ribs　and　forged　ahead；　slowing　again　to　match　their　pace　when　he　had　extended　his　lead　to　a　dozen　ells　or　so。
　　〃He　is　very　bitter；〃　Dinivan　said　as　he　watched　Cadrach's　hunched　shoulders。
　　〃What　does　he　have　to　be　bitter　about？〃　Miriamele　demanded。
　　The　priest　shook　his　head。　〃God　knows。〃
　　ing　from　a　priest；　she　decided；　it　was　hard　to　tell　exactly　what　that　phrase　might　signify。
　　Nabban's　North　Coast　Road　meandered　along　between　the　ridge　of　hills　and　Emettin　Bay；　sometimes　jogging　inland　so　that　the　hills'　tan　flanks　rose　on　the　right；　blocking　all　view　of　the　water。　Farther　on；　the　hills　fell　away　again　for　a　short　time　and　the　rocky　coastline　appeared　once　more。　As　the　trio　approached　Teligure；　the　road　began　to　fill　with　other　traffic：　farm　wains　shedding　streams　of　loose　hay；　foot　peddlers　carrying　their　wares　hung　on　poles；　small　troops　of　local　guardsmen　marching　officiously　from　one　place　to　another。　Many　travelers；　seeing　the　golden　Tree　that　hung　on　Dinivan's　black…robed　chest　and　the　monkish　robes　of　his　panions；　bowed　their　heads　or　made　the　Tree…sign　across　their　breasts。　Beggars　ran　alongside　the　priest's　horse；　crying；　〃Father；　Father！　Aedon's　mercy；　Father！〃　If　they　seemed　truly　crippled　in　some　way；　Dinivan　reached　into　his　robes　and　produced　a　cintis…piece；　which　he　tossed　down　to　them。　Miriamele　noticed　that　few　of　the　beggars；　no　matter　how　hobbled　or　deformed；　ever　let　the　coin　strike　the　ground。
　　They　stopped　at　midday　in　Teligure　itself；　a　sprawling　market　town　set　in　the　lap　of　the　hills；　where　they　refreshed　themselves　with　fruit　and　hard　bread　bought　from　stalls　in　the　town　square。　Here；　in　the　crush　of　merce；　three　religious　travelers　drew　little　notice。
　　Miriamele　was　basking　in　the　bright　sun；　hood　pushed　back　so　that　she　could　feel　the　warmth　on　her　forehead。　All　around　her　echoed　the　cries　of　the　hawkers　and　the　outraged　shrieks　of　swindled　buyers。　Cadrach　and　Dinivan　stood　nearby；　the　priest　bargaining　with　a　seller　of　boiled　eggs　while　his　sullen　panion　eyed　a　wine…merchant's　booth　next　door。　Miriamele　realized　with　some　surprise　that　she　felt　happy。
　　Just　like　that？　she　chided　herself；　but　the　sun　felt　too　nice　for　self…　vilification。　She　had　been　fed；　had　ridden　all　morning　free　as　the　wind；　and　nobody　around　was　paying　the　slightest　attention　to　her。　At　the　same　time；　she　felt　strangely　protected。
　　She　thought　suddenly　of　the　kitchen　boy　Simon　and　her　contented　mood　expanded　to　touch　the　memory　of　him　as　well。　He　had　a　nice　smile；　Simon　had…not　practiced；　like　one　other　father's　courtiers。　Father　Dinivan　had　a　good　smile；　too；　but　it　never　looked　surprised　at　itself；　as　Simon's　almost　always　did。
　　In　a　strange　way；　she　realized；　the　days　spent　traveling　to　Naglimund　with　Simon　and　Binabik　the　troll　had　been　some　of　the　best　of　her　life。　She　laughed　at　herself；　at　such　a　ridiculous　notion；　and　stretched　as　luxuriously　as　a　cat　on　a　windowsill。　They　had　faced　terror　and　death；　had　been　chased　by　the　terrible　hunter　Ingen　and　his　hounds；　and　had　nearly　been　killed　by　a　Hune；　a　murderous；　shaggy　giant。　But　still　she　had　felt　very　free。　Pretending　to　be　a　servant；　she　had　felt　more　herself　than　ever　before。　Simon　and　Binabik　talked　to　her…not　to　her　title；　not　to　her　father's　power　or　their　own　hopes　for　reward　or　advancement。
　　She　missed　them　both。　She　felt　a　sharp　and　sudden　pang　thinking　of　the　little　troll　and　poor；　gawky；　red…thatched　Simon　wandering　in　the　snowy　wilderness。　In　the　frustration　of　her　imprisonment　in　Perdruin　she　had　almost　forgotten　them…where　were　they？　Were　they　in　danger？　Were　they　even　alive？
　　A　shadow　fell　across　her　face。　She　flinched；　startled。
　　〃I　don't　think　I　can　keep　our　friend　out　of　the　wine…stalls　much　longer；〃　Dinivan　said。　〃Nor　am　I　sure　I　have　a　right　to。　We　should　take　to　the　road　again。　Were　you　sleeping？〃
　　〃No。〃　Miriamele　pulled　her　hood　forward　and　stood　up。　〃Just　thinking。　〃
　　
　　
　　Duke　Isgrimnur　sat　wheezing　before　the　fire；　thinking　seriously　about　breaking　something　or　hitting　someone。　His　feet　hurt；　his　face　had　itched　like　sin　ever　since　he　had　shaved　off　his　beard…and　what　kind　of　bedamned　madman　was　he　to　have　agreed　to　that？'…and　he　was　not　one　whit　closer　to　finding　Princess　Miriamele　than　he　had　been　when　he　left　Naglimund。　All　that　was　bad　enough；　but　now　things　had　gotten　even　worse。
　　Isgrimnur　had　felt　sure　he　was　narrowing　the　gap。　When　he　had　followed　Miriamele's　trail　to　Perdruin；　and　confirmed　with　the　old　tosspot　Gealsgiath　that　the　captain　had　left　her　and　the　criminal　monk　Cadrach　here　in　Ansis　Pellipe；　the　duke　had　been　certain　it　was　only　a　matter　of　time。　Even　hobbled　by　his　monk's　disguise；　Isgrimnur　knew　Ansis　Pellipe　well；　and　could　find　his　way　through　most　of　its　seedier　neighborhoods。　Soon；　he　had　felt　sure；　he　would　have　her　in　hand　and　could　take　her　back　to　her　uncle　Josua　at　Naglimund；　where　she　would　be　safe　from　her　father　Ellas'　doubtful　charities。
　　Then　the　twin　blows　had　fallen。　The　first　had　been　slower　in　effect；　the　culmination　of　many　fruitless　hours　and　a　small　fortune　in　pointless　bribes：　it　had　gradually　bee　clear　to　Isgrimnur　that　Miriamele　and　her　escort　had　disappeared　from　Ansis　Pelippe；　as　pletely　as　if　they　had　sprouted　wings　and　flown　away。　Not　a　single　smuggler；　cutpurse；　or　tavern　harlot　had　seen　them　since　Midsummer's　Eve。　She　and　Cadrach　were　a　hard　pair　to　miss…two　monks　traveling　together；　one　fat；　one　young　and　slender…　but　they　had　vanished。　Not　a　single　boatman　had　seen　them　carried　away；　or　even　heard　of　them　inquiring　after　passage　at　the　docks。　Gone！
　　The　second　blow；　falling　on　top　of　his　personal　failure；　struck　Isgrimnur　like　a　great　stone。　He　had　not　been　on　Perdruin　a　fortnight　before　the　wharfside　taverns　were　alive　with　stories　of　the　fall　of　Naglimund。　The　sailors　repeated　the　rumors　cheerfully；　talking　of　the　slaughter　Elias'　mysterious　second　army　had　wreaked　on　the　castle's　inhabitants　as　if　reveling　in　the　twists　and　turns　of　an　old　fireside　tale。
　　Oh；　my　Gutrun；　Isgrimnur　had　prayed；　his　innards　knotted　with　fear　and　rage；　Usires　protect　you　from　harm。　Let　you　e　out　safe　again；　wife；　and　I　will　build　a　cathedral　to　Him　with　my　bare　hands。　And　Isorn；　my　brave　son；　and　Josua　and　all　the　rest　。　。　。
　　He　had　cried　that　first　night；　in　a　dark　alley　by　himself；　where　no　one　would　see　the　huge　monk　sobbing；　where　for　at　least　a　little　while　he　need　not　falsify。　He　was　frightened　in　a　way　he　had　never　quite　been　before。
　　How　could　it　have　happened　so　swiftly？　he　wondered。　That　damnable　castle　was　built　to　last　out　a　ten…year　siege！　Was　it　treachery　from　within？
　　And　how；　even　if　his　family　had　been　saved　by　some　miracle　and　he　could　find　them　again；　how　would　he　ever　get　back　his　lands　that　Skali　Sharp…nose　h