tw.thestoneoffarewell-第60部分

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d　betrayed　his　father；　or　had　not　defended　him　properly　in　the　battle　before　Naglimund；　but　most　of　the　Nabbanai　priests…the　Sancellan's　home…grown　men…were　quick　to　assure　their　foreign　brethren　that　Ranessin　was　an　honorable　and　diplomatic　man。　The　lector；　they　promised；　would　certainly　do　the　right　thing。
　　Duke　Isgrimnur　flapped　the　hem　of　his　cassock；　trying　to　force　a　little　warm　air　up　beneath　the　garment。　If　only　the　lector's　honor　and　diplomacy　could　solve　everybody's　problems　。　。　。
　　Of　course！　That's　it！　Damn　my　ignorant　eyes　for　not　seeing　it　before！　Isgrimnur　smacked　a　broad　hand　on　his　thigh　and　chuckled　fruitily。　I'll　talk　to　the　lector。　Whatever　he　thinks；　my　secret　will　be　safe　with　him。　I'm　sure　Miriamele's　will；　too。　If　anyone　has　the　authority　to　find　her　here　without　raising　a　fuss；　it's　His　Sacredness。
　　The　duke　felt　much　better　after　this　solution　had　presented　itself。　He　turned　and　rubbed　his　hands　before　the　flames　a　few　more　times；　then　set　out　across　the　polished　wooden　floor　of　the　mon　room。
　　A　small　crowd　at　one　of　the　arched　doorways　caught　his　attention。　Several　monks　were　standing　in　the　open　door；　several　others　stood　on　the　balcony　outside；　cold　air　bleeding　in　past　them。　Many　of　the　mon　room's　other　inhabitants　were　protesting；　or　had　already　given　up　and　moved　nearer　the　fire。　Isgrimnur　wandered　over；　his　hands　tucked　up　in　his　voluminous　sleeves　as　he　peered　over　the　shoulder　of　the　hindmost　monk。
　　 〃What　is　it？〃　he　asked。　He　could　see　a　couple　of　dozen　men　milling　in　the　courtyard　below；　half　of　them　on　horseback。　It　seemed　nothing　unusual：　the　figures　moved　calmly　and　unhurriedly；　those　on　foot　apparently　the　Sancellan's　guards；　greeting　new　arrivals。
　　〃It's　the　High　King's　counselor；〃　the　monk　standing　before　him　said。　〃That　Pryrates　fellow。　He　used　to　be　here　once…in　the　Sancellan　Aedonitis；　I　mean。　They　say　he's　a　clever　one。〃
　　Isgrimnur　clenched　his　teeth；　choking　down　a　shout　of　anger　and　surprise。　He　felt　a　hot　breath　of　fury　moving　within　him　and　stood　up　on　his　toes　to　see。　There　indeed　was　the　priest's　tiny；　hairless　head　bobbing　atop　a　scarlet　cloak　that　looked　orange　in　the　gateyard　torchlight。　The　duke　found　himself　wondering　how　he　could　get　close　enough　to　stick　a　knife　into　the　sneaking　traitor。　Ah；　sweet　God；　but　that　would　be　satisfying！
　　But　what　good　would　it　do；　besides　the　admitted　good　of　removing　Pryrates　from　this　earth？　It　would　not　find　Miriamele；　and　I　would　never　escape　to　search　for　her　after　the　deed　was　done。　Not　to　mention　what　would　happen　if　Pryrates　did　not　die…p'raps　he　has　some　sorcerous　shield。
　　No；　it　would　not　do。　But　if　he　could　get　in　to　see　the　lector；　he　would　give　Ranessin　an　earful　about　that　devil's　bastard　of　a　red　priest　and　his　hellish　counseling　of　the　High　King。　But　what　was　Pryrates　doing　here　of　all　places？
　　Isgrimnur　tramped　off　to　bed；　thoughts　of　mayhem　denied　swim…　ming　through　his　mind。
　　Twenty　cubits　below；　Pryrates　looked　up　to　the　mon　room　balcony　as　though　he　had　heard　someone　calling　his　name；　his　black　eyes　glitteringly　intent；　his　pale　head　gleaming　like　a　toadstool　in　the　shadows　of　the　gateyard。　The　spectators　in　the　mon　room；　separated　by　distance　and　darkness；　could　not　see　the　smile　that　curled　across　the　priest's　gaunt　face；　but　they　could　feel　the　sudden　draught　of　chill　air　that　swept　down　on　the　Sancellan　Aedonitis；　setting　the　guards'　cloaks　to　billowing。　Goosefleshed；　the　monks　on　the　balcony　quickly　made　their　way　inside；　pushing　the　door　shut　behind　them　before　hastening　back　to　the　fire。
　　
　　12
　　The　Fly　of　a　Bird
　　
　　SIMON　and　his　panions　left　Binabik's　people　behind　and　rode　southeast　along　the　base　of　the　Trollfells；　clinging　to　the　foothills　like　a　nervous　child　unwilling　to　wade　into　deeper　water。　On　their　right；　the　white　emptiness　of　the　Waste　stretched　away　into　the　distance。
　　In　the　middle　of　the　gray　afternoon；　as　they　walked　their　horses　across　a　thin　trail　of　stones　that　made　an　uncertain　crossing　over　one　of　Blue　Mud　Lake's　inlet　streams；　a　wedge　of　cranes　flew　overhead；　gabbling　and　honking　until　it　seemed　they　would　rattle　the　sky。　The　birds　swerved　above　the　riders'　heads；　wings　thrusting；　then　banked　as　one　and　flew　into　the　south。
　　〃Three　months　it　is　before　they　should　be　making　that　journey；〃　Binabik　said　ruefully。　〃It　is　wrong；　very　wrong。　Spring　and　summer　have　been　retreated　like　a　beaten　army。〃
　　〃It　doesn't　seem　much　colder　than　it　did　when　we　were　on　our　way　to　Urmsheim；〃　Simon　offered；　clutching　at　Homefinder's　reins。
　　〃That　was　in　late　spring；〃　Sludig　grunted；　working　to　keep　his　footing　on　the　water…slicked　stones。　〃Now　we　are　in　midsummer。〃
　　Simon　thought　about　that。　〃Oh；〃　he　said。
　　They　stopped　on　the　stream's　far　bank　to　share　a　few　of　the　provisions　that　Binabik's　folk　had　sent　with　them。　The　sun　was　gray　and　remote。　Simon　wondered　where　he　would　be　when　another　summer　came…if　another　summer　came。
　　〃Can　the　Storm　King　make　it　winter　forever？〃　he　asked。
　　Binabik　shrugged。　〃That　is　not　in　my　knowledge。　He　has　been　making　winter　very　well　during　these　Yuven…　and　Tiyagar…months。　Let　us　not　think　of　it；　Simon。　It　will　not　be　making　our　task　any　easier　to　worry　over　such　things。　Either　the　Master　of　Storms　will　triumph　or　he　will　not。　There　is　nothing　else　for　doing　with　what　we　have　been　given。〃
　　Simon　swung　himself　clumsily　into　his　saddle。　He　envied　Sludig's　practiced　grace。　〃I'm　not　talking　about　stopping　it；〃　he　said　testily。　〃l　just　wondered　what　he　was　going　to　do。〃
　　〃If　I　could　know；〃　Binabik　sighed；　〃I　would　not　be　cursing　myself　for　an　unfit　student　of　my　good　master。〃　He　whistled　for　Qantaqa。
　　They　stopped　again　that　afternoon　while　some　daylight　still　remained　to　scavenge　for　firewood　and　give　Sludig　some　time　to　instruct　Simon。　The　Rimmersman　found　a　long　tree　limb　beneath　the　snow　and　broke　it　in　half；　binding　a　strip　of　rag　around　one　end　of　each　piece　for　an　easier　grip。
　　〃Can't　we　use　real　swords？〃　Simon　asked。　〃I'm　not　going　to　be　fighting　anyone　with　wood。〃
　　Sludig　raised　a　skeptical　eyebrow。　〃So？　You　would　prefer　slipping　and　sliding　on　wet　ground　while　fighting　a　trained　swordsman　with　real　blades？　Using　this　black　sword；　perhaps；　that　you　cannot　lift　half　the　time？〃　He　indicated　Thorn　with　a　jerk　of　his　head。　〃I　know　it　is　cold　and　dreary　on　this　journey；　Simon；　but　are　you　really　so　anxious　to　die？〃
　　Simon　stared　hard。　〃I'm　not　so　clumsy。　You　told　me　so　yourself。　And　Haestan　taught　me　some　things。　〃
　　〃In　a　fortnight？〃　Sludig's　look　turned　to　amusement。　〃You　are　brave；　Simon；　and　lucky；　too…a　trait　not　to　be　overlooked…but　I　am　trying　to　make　you　a　better　fighter。　The　next　thing　you　fight　against　may　not　be　a　brutish　Hune　but　an　armored　man。　Now；　take　your　new　sword　and　hit　me。
　　He　kicked　the　branch　to　Simon　and　lifted　his　own　weapon。　Simon　held　the　tree　limb　before　him　and　circled　slowly。　The　Rimmersman　was　right：　the　snowy　ground　was　treacherous。　Before　he　could　even　take　a　swing　at　his　instructor；　his　feet　went　out　from　under　him　and　he　toppled　heavily　onto　his　rump。　He　remained　there；　scowling　furiously。
　　〃Don't　be　embarrassed；〃　Sludig　said；　taking　a　step　forward　and　laying　the　end　of　his　cudgel　against　Simon's　chest。　〃When　you　fall　down…and　men　do　trip　and　stumble　in　battle…make　sure　and　keep　your　blade　up　or　you　may　not　live　to　resume　the　fight。〃
　　Seeing　the　sense　in　this；　Simon　grunted　and　shoved　the　Rimmersman's　branch　away　with　his　hand　before　getting　onto　his　knees。　He　then　rose　to　his　feet　once　more　and　resumed　his　crablike　circling。　
　　〃Why　are　you　doing　that？〃　Sludig　said。　〃Why　do　you　not　swing　at　me？〃
　　〃Because　you're　faster　than　I　am。　〃
　　〃Good。　You　are　right。　〃　As　he　finished　speaking；　Sludig　snapped　his　cudgel　out；　landing　a　smarting　blow　below　Simon's　ribs。　〃But　you　must　stay　balanced　at　all　times。　I　caught　you　with　your　feet　crossed　one　over　the　other。〃　He　aimed　another　blow；　but　this　time　Simon　was　able　to　twist　his　body　out　of　the　way；　then　return　a　swing　of　his　own　which　Sludig　deflected　toward　the　ground。
　　〃Now　you　are　learning；　Warrior　Simon！〃　Binabik　called。　He　sat　beside　the　young　fire；　scratching　Qantaqa's　neck　as　he　watched　the　cudgel…play。　It　was　hard　to　tell　whether　it　was　due　to　the　scratching　or　to　the　spectacle　of　Simon　being　thrashed；　but　the　wolf　seemed　to　be　enjoying　herself　immensely：　her　tongue　hung　from　her　grinning　mouth　and　her　brushy　tail　twitched　in　pleasure。
　　Simon　and　the　Rimmersman　worked　for　about　an　hour。　Simon　did　not　land　a　single　blow；　but　received　quite　a　few　in　return。　When　he　at　last　flopped　down　to　rest　on　a　flat　stone　by　the　fire…circle；　he　was　more　than　willing　to　take　a　swallow　of　kangkang　from　Binabik's　bag。　He　was　willing　to　take　a　second　swallow　as　well；　and　would　have　taken　a　third；　but　Binabik　retrieved　the　skin　bag。
　　〃I　would　be　doing　no　friendliness　if　I　let　you　drink　yourself　drunken；　Simon；〃　the　troll　said　firmly。
　　〃It's　just　because　my　ribs　ache。〃
　　〃You　have　youth　and　will　be　fast　healing；〃　Binabik　replied。　〃I　am；　in　a　way；　in　responsibility　for　your　care。〃
　　Simon　made　a　face　but　did　not　argue。　It　was　nice　that　someone　cared　about　him；　he　supposed；　even　if　he　did　not　entirely　agree　with　the　form　that　caring　took。
　　
　　Two　more　days　of　cold　riding　along　the　skirts　of　the　Trollfells…as　well　as　two　more　evenings　of　what　the　recipient　began　to　think　of　as　〃scullion　smacking〃…did　not　do　much　to　brighten　Simon's　view　of　the　world。　Many　times　during　his　instruction；　as　he　sat　on　the　soggy　ground　feeling　some　new　pan　of　his　body　throb　into　painful　prominence；　he　considered　telling　Sludig　he　was　no　longer　interested；　but　the　memory　of　Haestan's　pale　face　inside　his　winding　cloth　forced　him　onto　his　feet　once　more。　The　guardsman　had　wanted　Simon　to　learn　these　things；　to　be　able　to　defend　himself　and　also　to　help　defend　others。　Haestan　had　never　been　able　to　quite　explain　the　way　he　felt…the　Erkynlander　had　not　been　a　man　given　to　aimless　talking…but　he　had　often　said　that　〃strong　folk　a…bullyin'　th'weak〃　was　not　right。
　　Simon　thought　back　on　Fengbald；　Elias'　ally。　He　had　taken　a　troop　of　armored　men　and　burned　down　a　district　of　his　own　earldom；　sla