tw.thestoneoffarewell-第56部分

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he　Sithi…for　that　is　what　we　need；　do　we　not；　Eolair？　Allies！〃　Her　eyes　were　fearfully　bright。　〃I　have　thought　about　this　until　my　head　is　splitting　and　I　know　I　am　right！　Hernystir　needs　help　in　this　terrible　hour…and　what　better　allies　than　the　Sithi；　who　stood　with　us　once　before？！　Everyone　thinks　the　Peaceful　Ones　have　disappeared　from　the　earth。　But　they　haven't！　I　am　sure　they　have　only　gone　deeper。〃
　　〃This　is　more　than　I　can　stand；〃　Eolair　said；　taking　her　arm。　〃This　is　madness；　Lady；　and　it　tears　my　heart　in　my　chest　to　see　you　so。　e。　Let　us　go　back。〃
　　Maegwin　pulled　away；　eyes　bright　with　anger。　〃You　are　the　one　who　speaks　madness；　Count！　Go　back？！　I　have　spent　more　hours　than　I　can　count　cutting　the　bolt。　I　had　to　sleep　for　a　little　when　I　had　finished；　but　I　have　done　it！　It　is　done；　and　I　am　going　to　go　through　the　door！　Do　not　speak　to　me　of　going　back！〃
　　Eolair　looked　up　to　see　that　the　princess　spoke　truthfully。　The　bolt；　big　as　a　man's　wrist；　had　been　chipped　through。　A　hammer　and　dented　chisel　lay　nearby。
　　〃What　is　this　door？〃　he　asked　suspiciously。　〃It　is　part　of　the　old　mines；　surely。〃
　　〃I　told　you；〃　she　responded　coldly。　〃It　is　the　door　to　the　past…the　door　that　leads　to　the　Peaceful　Ones。　To　the　Sithi。〃　As　she　faced　him；　her　iron　gaze　seemed　to　soften　and　melt。　Another　emotion　pushed　its　way　to　the　surface；　bringing　confusion　and　longing　to　Maegwin's　face；　the　Count　of　Nad　Mullach　felt　a　deep；　helpless　pang　of　sorrow。　〃Oh；　Eolair；〃　she　said；　pleading　now；　〃don't　you　see？　We　can　be　safe！　e；　help　me！　Please；　Eolair；　I　know　you　think　I　am　a　fool；　a　plainfaced　horse　of　a　woman；　but　you　loved　my　father！　Please；　help　me　open　the　door！〃
　　Eolair　could　not　meet　her　gaze。　He　turned　away　to　stare　up　at　the　great　door；　tears　welling　in　his　eyes。　Wretched　girl！　What　could　have　tormented　her　so？　The　death　of　a　father　and　brother？　The　loss　of　a　kingdom？　Tragedies；　all…but　others　who　had　suffered　the　same　did　not　fall　into　such　pitiable　notions。　The　Sithi　had　been　real　once；　certainly…real　as　rain　and　stone。　But　five　long　centuries　had　passed　since　even　a　rumor　of　the　Fair　Folk　had　made　its　way　to　Hernystir。　And　the　idea　that　the　gods　were　leading　Maegwin　to　these　long…vanished　Sithi　。　。　。　even　Eolair；　with　his　respect　for　the　unknown；　could　still　see　that　this　was　clearly　the　madness　of　her　loss　speaking。
　　He　wiped　his　face　with　his　sleeve。　The　stone　facing　around　the　door　was　covered　with　strange；　intricate　symbols　and　minutely　detailed　carvings　of　faces　and　figures；　mostly　worn　down　by　dripping　water。　It　was　true　that　they　were　constructions　of　exquisite　subtlety；　seemingly　far　above　even　the　most　ambitious　work　of　Hernystiri　miners。　What　could　this　place　have　been？　Some　ancient　temple；　from　the　earliest　days？　Had　strange　rituals　been　performed　here　for　Black　Cuamh；　away　from　the　simple　shrines　of　　other　gods　that　dotted　the　face　of　the　land　above？
　　Eolair　took　a　breath　and　wondered　if　he　was　making　a　foolish　decision。　〃I　do　not　wish　to　hear　you　malign　yourself　untruthfully　any　longer；　Princess；　and　I　do　not　want　to　carry　you　back　by　force。　If　I　help　you　open　the　door；〃　he　said　slowly；　not　daring　to　see　the　painful　look　of　hope　on　her　face；　〃will　you　return　with　me　afterward？〃
　　〃Oh；　yes；　whatever　you　want'〃　She　was　childlike　in　her　eagerness。　〃I　will　let　you　decide；　because　I　know　when　you　see　the　land　where　the　Sithi　still　live；　you　will　not　want　to　hurry　back　to　any　sooty　cavern。　Yes！〃
　　〃Very　well；　then。　I　have　your　word；　Maegwin。〃　He　stood　up　and　grasped　the　handle　of　the　door；　giving　it　a　sharp　tug。　There　was　no　movement　at　all。
　　〃Eolair；〃　Maegwin　said　quietly。
　　He　pulled　again；　harder；　until　he　could　feel　the　cords　of　his　neck　standing　out；　but　the　door　did　not　budge。
　　〃Count　Eolair；〃　Maegwin　said。
　　He　gave　the　door　another　futile　pull；　then　turned。　〃What？〃
　　She　gestured　at　the　door　with　a　broken…nailed　finger。　〃1　sawed　the　bolt　through；　but　the　pieces　are　still　there。　Shouldn't　we　take　them　out？〃
　　〃That　would　make　no　difference　。。。〃　he　began；　then　looked　more　closely。　Part　of　the　severed　bolt　had　fallen　into　the　door　loop；　effectively　preventing　the　door's　opening。　Eolair　hissed；　then　pushed　the　pieces　out。　They　fell　clinking　to　the　damp　stone。
　　 This　time；　as　Eolair　pulled；　the　hinges　creaked　protestingly。　Maegwin　came　forward；　curling　her　hands　around　the　door　handle　beside　the　count's；　adding　her　strength　to　his。　The　hinges　spoke　louder。　As　he　kept　up　the　pressure；　he　distractedly　watched　the　muscles　in　her　forearms。　She　was　strong；　this　young　woman…but　then；　she　never　had　been　a　weak　or　retiring　type。　Except　around　him；　where　he　had　often　noticed　her　sharp　tongue　suddenly　blunted。
　　Straining；　Eolair　sucked　in　a　chestful　of　air　and　could　not　help　noticing　Maegwin's　scent。　Sweaty　and　covered　with　dirt；　the　princess　did　not　smell　like　a　perfumed　lady　from　the　court　in　Nabban；　but　there　was　something　raw　and　warm　and　lively　about　her　that　was　not　unpleasant　at　all。　Eolair　shook　his　head　at　such　musings　and　redoubled　his　effort；　watching　Maegwin's　determined　face　as　the　noise　of　the　hinges　rose　to　a　shriek。　The　door　began　to　grate　open…an　inch；　then　a　few　inches　more；　then　a　foot；　protesting　loudly　all　the　way。　When　a　cubit　of　blackness　was　exposed　they　stopped；　leaning　against　the　heavy　timbers　to　catch　their　breath。
　　Maegwin　bent　and　picked　up　a　lamp；　then　slipped　through　the　opening　while　Eolair　was　still　gasping。
　　〃Princess！〃　he　called　breathlessly；　then　edged　through　after　her。　〃Wait！　The　air　may　be　bad！〃　Even　as　he　spoke　he　realized　that　the　air　was　fine；　if　a　little　heavy。　〃Just　。　。〃　he　began；　then　stopped　short　at　Maegwin's　shoulder。　The　lamp　she　held　threw　light　all　around。　〃I　told　you！〃　Her　voice　was　full　of　satisfied　awe。　〃This　is　where　our　friends　live！〃
　　〃Brynioch　of　the　Skies！〃　Eolair　murmured；　stunned。
　　A　great　city　lay　before　them；　stretched　along　the　bottom　of　a　wide　canyon。　As　they　stood　at　the　canyon's　edge；　gazing　down；　the　vast　expanse　of　buildings　seemed　to　be　hewed　directly　from　the　mountain's　heart；　as　though　the　entire　city　were　one　seamless；　incalculably　immense　piece　of　living　stone。　Every　window　and　door　had　been　cut　into　solid　rock；　every　tower　carved　out　of　pillars　of　pre…existing　stone；　pillars　that　stretched　up　toward　the　cavern's　ceiling　far　overhead。　But　for　all　its　size；　the　city　also　looked　to　be　surprisingly　close；　as　though　it　were　in　truth　only　a　miniature；　made　to　trick　the　eye。　From　where　they　stood　on　the　top　steps　of　a　broad　staircase　that　wound　down　into　the　canyon；　it　seemed　they　could　almost　reach　out　and　touch　the　domed　roofs。　
　　〃The　city　of　the　Peaceful　Ones　。　。　〃　Maegwin　said　happily。　
　　If　it　was　a　Sithi　city；　Eolair　thought；　then　its　immortal　inhabitants　must　have　decided　their　declining　years　would　be　better　spent　on　the　sunny　　surface；　for　this　spread　of　delicately　hewn　and　shaded　stone　was　empty…or　so　it　certainly　seemed。　Shaken　by　the　discovery　of　such　an　uncanny　place；　the　count　found　himself　fervently　hoping　that　it　was　indeed　as　deserted　as　it　looked。
　　
　　
　　The　small　cell　was　cold。　Duke　Isgrimnur　snorted　miserably；　rubbing　his　hands　together。
　　Mother　Church　would　do　better　to　take　a　few　of　those　damned　offerings　and　use　them　to　heat　her　greatest　house；　he　thought。　The　tapestries　and　gold　candlesticks　are　all　well　and　good…but　how　can　anyone　admire　them　when　he's　freezing　to　death？
　　He　had　stayed　long　in　the　mon　room　the　night　before；　sitting　quietly　before　the　great　fireplace　as　he　listened　to　the　stories　of　other　traveling　monks；　most　of　whom　had　e　to　the　Sancellan　Aedonitis　on　some　sort　of　business　with　the　lectoral　establishment。　When　friendly　questions　were　directed　toward　him；　Isgrimnur　had　replied　tersely　and　infrequently；　knowing　that　here…among　others　of　the　same　guild；　so　to　speak…the　danger　of　his　masquerade　being　detected　was　greatest。
　　Now；　as　he　sat　listening　to　the　Clavean　bell　tolling　for　morning　prayer；　he　felt　himself　strongly　inclined　to　go　back　to　the　mon　room　again。　The　risk　of　exposure　was　great；　but　how　else　could　be　help　to　uncover　the　news　he　so　urgently　sought？
　　If　only　that　damnable　Count　Streawe　spoke　straightly！　Why　should　he　bring　me　all　the　way　across　Ansis　Pelippe　just　to　tell　me　Miriamele　was　at　the　Sancellan　Aedonitis7　How　could　he　know　that？　And　why　should　he　tell　me；　about　whom　he　knew　only　that　I　was　asking　questions　about　two　monks；　an　old　one　and　a　young7
　　 Isgrimnur　considered　briefly　the　possibility　that　Streawe　had　known　who　he　was；　and　worse；　that　the　count　had　set　him　to　some　kind　of　wild　chase　on　purpose；　when　Miriamele　was　in　reality　nowhere　near　the　lector's　palace。　But　if　that　was　the　case；　why　should　Perdruin's　master　speak　to　him　personally？　They　had　sat　there；　the　count　and　monkishly…disguised　Isgrimnur；　drinking　wine　in　the　count's　own　sitting　room。　Did　Streawe　know　who　he　was？　What　did　the　man　have　to　gain　by　sending　Isgrimnur　to　the　Sanceilan　Aedonitis？
　　Trying　to　puzzle　out　Count　Streawe's　game　made　Isgrimnur's　head　ache。　What　choice　did　he　have；　anyway；　but　to　take　the　count's　word　at　its　face　value？　He　had　been　at　a　plete　dead　end；　bing　the　alleyways　of　Perdruin's　greatest　city　for　word　of　the　princess　and　the　monk　Cadrach　with　little　result。　So　here　he　was；　a　mendicant　monk　taking　a　little　charity　in　Mother　Church's　bosom；　hoping　to　find　out　if　Streawe　was　correct。
　　 He　stamped　his　feet。　The　soles　of　his　boots　were　worn　thin　and　the　chill　seemed　to　crawl　up　through　the　dank　stone　floors　right　into　the　bottoms　of　his　feet　This　was　foolishness；　this　hiding　in　his　cell；　it　would　not　help　him　in　his　quest。　He　must　get　out　and　mix　with　the　Sancellan's　swarming　throngs。　Besides；　when　he　sat　too　long　by　himself；　the　faces　of　his　wife　Gutrun　and　his　children　came　to　him；　filling　him　with　despair　and　helpless　rage。　He　remembered　the　joy　when　Isorn　had　e　back　to　him　out　of　captivity；　the　bursting　pride；　the　exhilaration　of　fear　defeated。　Would　he　live　to　have　another　such　reunion　with　them　all？　God　grant　that　he　would。　It　was　his　fondest　hope；　but　one　that　seemed　so　tenuous　that；　like　a　spider　web；　to　handle　it　unnecessarily　might　spell　its　ruin。
　　But　in　any　case；　hope　alone　was　not　a　fit　di