tw.togreenangeltower2-第138部分

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s；　and　we　almost　fell　from　the　porch。　More　pieces　were　dropping。　Simon　suddenly　bent　down　and　grabbed　at　Binabik；　said　something　to　him…then　flung　him　through　the　air！　I　was　astonished！　The　troll　landed　on　the　edge　of　the　wall；　slipped　a　little　on　the　snow；　but　held　his　balance。　Miriamele　went　next；　jumping　without　help；　Binabik　kept　her　from　sliding　off　when　she　landed。　Then　Simon　urged　me；　and　I　held　my　breath　and　jumped。　I　would　have　fallen　if　the　other　two　had　not　been　waiting；　because　the　stone　porch　had　begun　to　tip　downward　as　I　went；　and　I　almost　did　not　leap　far　enough。　
　　　　　　　〃Now　Simon　stood；　trying　to　find　his　balance；　and　Miriamele　was　screaming　at　him　to　hurry；　hurry；　and　Binabik　was　shouting；　too。　Simon　leaped　and　landed；　and　as　he　did；　most　of　the　porch　dropped　away；　crashing　into　the　snow　beneath。　We　all　three　caught　at　him　and　pulled　him　to　safety　before　he　toppled　off　the　wall。
〃A　few　moments　later　the　entire　tower　collapsed　in　on　itself　with　a　noise　like　nothing　I　have　ever　heard；　louder　than　any　thunderstorm　。。。　but　you　heard　it。　You　know。　Pieces　of　stone　bigger　than　this　tent　smashed　past　us；　but　none　hit　the　wall。　Most　of　the　tower　fell　inward；　and　a　cloud　of　dust　and　snow　and　streaming　smoke　rose　up　as　high　as　the　tower　had　reached；　then　spread　out　across　the　castle　grounds。〃　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　'：
　　　　　　　Tiamak　took　a　deep　breath。　〃We　stood　for　a　long　time　staring。　It　was　as　though　I　watched　a　god　die。　I　learned　later　what　Miriamele　and　the　others　had　seen　in　the　towertop；　and　that　must　have　been　stranger　still。　When　we　could　think　of　moving　again；　Simon　led　us　down　through　the　throne　room；　past　that　astounding　chair　of　bones；　and　out　to　meet　you　and　the　rest。　I　thanked　my　Wran　deities　that　the　fighting　was　all　but　over…I　could　not　have　lifted　a　hand　if　a　Norn　had　put　a　knife　to　my　neck。〃　He　sat　for　a　while；　shaking　his　head。　Isgrimnur　cleared　his　throat。　〃So　nothing　could　have　survived；　then。　Even　if　Josua　or　Camaris　lived　until　the　end；　they　would　have　been　crushed。〃
〃We　will　never　know　from　what　remains　in　that　rubble；〃　Tiamak　said。　〃I　cannot　think　we　could　recognize　。。。〃　He　remembered　Isorn。　〃Oh；　Isgrimnur；　please；　please　forgive　me。　I　forgot。〃
Isgrimnur　shook　his　head。　〃The　doors　to　the　antechamber　came　open　a　short　while　before　the　end…I　suppose　Pryrates'　dying　put　an　end　to　his　deviltry；　his　magical　wall　or　whatever　it　was。　Some　of　the　soldiers　nearby　pulled　out　those　of　the　fallen　they　could　before　the　tower　began　to　collapse。　I；　at　least；　have　my　son's　body。〃　He　looked　down；　struggling　for　posure；　then　sighed。　〃Thank　you；　Tiamak。　I　am　sorry　to　make　you　remember。〃
Tiamak　laughed　shakily。　〃I　have　not　been　able　to　stop　talking　about　it。　We　are　all　of　us　in　this　camp　babbling　away　at　each　other　like　children；　and　have　been　since　the　tower　fell；　since　。　。。　since　everything　happened。〃
The　duke　stood；　slowly　and　painfully。　〃I　see　Strangyeard　ing。　The　others　will　meet　us。　Will　you　e　along；　Tiamak？　These　are　important　matters；　and　I　would　like　you　to　be　with　us　when　we　talk。　We　need　you　wisdom。〃
　　　　　　　The　Wrannaman　gently　bowed　his　head。　〃Of　course；　Isgrimnur。　Of　course。〃

　　　　　　　Simon　wandered　through　the　rubble　of　the　Inner　Bailey　The　melting　snow　had　shrunk　away　to　reveal　patches　of　dead　grass；　and　here　and　there　a　freshet　of　new　plant　lift　which　the　sorcerous　winter　had　not　destroyed。　The　different　hues　of　green　and　brown　were　soothing　to　his　eyes　He　had　seen　enough　of　black；　ice…white；　and　blood…red　to　last　him　several　lifetimes。
　　　　　　　He　only　wished　that　everything　followed　such　ordinary　patterns　of　renewal。　It　was　a　short　two　days　since　the　tower　had　fallen　and　the　Storm　King　had　been　vanquished；　a　time　when　he　and　his　friends　should　have　been　rejoicing　over　their　victory；　yet　here　he　was；　wandering　and　brooding。
He　had　slept　through　the　night　and　the　first　day　after　their　escape；　a　thick；　bone…weary　slumber。　Binabik　had　e　to　him　the　second　night；　telling　him　stories；　explaining；　miserating；　then　finally　sitting　with　him　in　silence　until　Simon　fell　asleep　once　more。　Others　had　visited　him　throughout　the　morning　of　this　second　day；　friends　and　acquaintances　reaching　out；　proving　to　themselves　that　he　lived；　just　as　the　sight　of　these　visitors　showed　Simon　that　the　world　still　made　a　kind　of　sense。
　　　　　　　But　Miriamele　had　not　e。
When　the　unclouded　sun　had　begun　to　slide　down　past　noon；　he　had　nerved　himself　to　go　and　see　her。　Binabik　had　assured　him　the　night　before　that　she　lived　and　was　not　badly　hurt；　so　he　did　not　fear　for　her　health；　but　the　troll's　reassurances　had　only　made　his　other　unhappiness　stronger。　If　she　was　well；　why　had　she　not　e　to　him　or　sent　a　message？
　　　　　　　He　had　found　her　at　her　tent；　in　conversation　with　Aditu；　who　earlier　that　morning　had　been　one　of　his　own　visitors。　Miriamele　had　greeted　him　in　a　friendly　enough　fashion；　and　had　exclaimed　sorrowfully　over　his　various　wounds；　as　he　had　over　hers；　but　when　he　expressed　his　sadness　over　the　deaths　of　her　uncle　and　father；　she　had　suddenly　grown　cold　and　remote。
　　　　　　　Simon　wanted　to　believe　it　was　no　more　than　the　justifiable　bitterness　of　someone　who　had　lived　through　a　terrible　time　and　had　lost　her　family…not　to　mention　her　own　unhappy　role　in　her　father's　death…but　he　could　not　fool　himself　that　there　was　nothing　more　to　her　reaction　than　that。　She　had　been　reacting　to　him；　too；　as　though　something　about　Simon　still　made　her　dreadfully　unfortable。　It　made　him　miserable　to　see　that　distance　in　her　eyes　after　all　they　had　been　through　together；　but　he　had　also　felt　fury；　wondering　why　he　should　be　treated　as　though　it　had　been　his　cruelty　to　her　that　had　marred　their　trip　into　Erkynland；　instead　of　the　other　way　around。　Although　he　had　struggled　to　hide　this　anger；　things　had　only　grown　chillier　between　them；　and　at　last　he　had　excused　himself　and　gone　out　into　the　wind。
　　　　　　　Into　the　wind　and　up　the　hill　he　had　gone；　to　wander　now　through　the　slushy　grounds　of　the　abandoned　Hayholt。
　　　　　　　Simon　paused；　staring　at　the　great　pile　of　spread　rubble　that　had　once　been　Green　Angel　Tower。　Small　figures　moved　in　the　ruins；　Erchester…folk　scavenging　for　anything　worth　saving；　either　to　trade　for　food　or　as　a　keepsake　of　what　was　already　a　fabled　event。
　　　　　　　It　was　strange；　Simon　reflected。　He　had　gone　as　deep　into　the　earth　as　anyone　could；　and　had　climbed　equally　as　high；　but　he　had　not　changed　very　much。　He　was　a　little　stronger；　perhaps；　but　he　guessed　that　was　a　strength　mostly　caused　by　the　inflexibility　of　scarred　places；　other　than　that；　he　was　much　the　same。　A　kitchen　boy；　Pryrates　had　called　him。　The　priest　had　been　right。　Despite　his　knighthood；　despite　all　else　that　had　happened；　there　would　always　be　the　heart　of　a　scullion　inside　him。
　　　　　　　Something　caught　his　eye　and　he　bent　forward。　A　green　hand　lay　at　the　bottom　of　the　gulley　beside　his　feet；　fingers　protruding　from　the　mud　in　a　frozen　gesture　of　release。　Simon　leaned　forward　and　scraped　away　some　of　the　soggy　clay；　exposing　an　arm；　then　finally　a　bronze　face。
It　was　the　angel　of　the　towertop；　fallen　to　the　earth。　He　poured　a　handful　of　puddle　water　over　the　high…boned　face；　clearing　the　eyes。　They　were　open；　but　no　life　was　in　them。　It　was　a　tumbled　statue；　nothing　more。
Simon　stood　up　and　wiped　his　hands　on　his　breeches。　Let　someone　else　drag　it　from　the　muck　and　take　it　home。　Let　it　sit　in　the　corner　of　someone's　cottage　and　whisper　to　them　beguiling　stories　of　the　depths　and　heights。
But　as　he　trudged　away　across　the　mons　yard；　turning　his　back　on　the　wreckage　of　the　tower；　the　angel's　voice…Leieth's　voice…came　back　to　him。
　　　　　　　〃These　truths　are　too　strong；〃　she　had　said；　〃the　myths　and　lies　around　them　too　great。　You　must　see　them　and　you　must　understand　for　yourself。　But　this　has　been　your　story。〃
　　　　　　　And　she　had　showed　him　important　things　indeed。　The　proof　of　that；　at　least　in　part；　lay　scattered　over　a　thousand　cubits　of　ground　behind　him。　But　there　had　been　more；　something　that　had　teased　at　the　edge　of　his　understanding；　but　which　time　and　circumstance　had　kept　him　from　pondering。　Now　the　curious　thread　of　memory　came　back　to　him；　and　would　not　be　denied。　He　had　e　closest　to　seeing　it　in　the　throne　room。。。。
　　　　　　　His　footsteps　echoed　across　the　tiles。　There　was　no　other　sound。　This　was　a　place　no　one　had　yet　e　to　scavenge…the　mute　specter　of　the　Dragonbone　Chair　was　enough　to　raise　fearful　hackles　in　the　best　of　times；　and　these　had　not　been　the　best　of　times。
　　　　　　　The　afternoon　light；　warmer　than　the　last　time　he　had　been　here；　spilled　down　from　the　windows　and　gave　a　little　color　to　the　strew　of　fading　banners；　although　the　malachite　kings　were　still　cloaked　in　their　own　black　stone　shadows。　Simon　remembered　a　void　of　spreading　nothingness　and　hesitated；　his　heart　pounding；　but　he　swallowed　his　momentary　fear　and　stepped　forward。　That　blackness　was　gone。　That　king　was　dead。
In　full　daylight　the　great　throne　looked　less　daunting　than　he　remembered　it。　The　great　toothy　mouth　still　menaced；　but　some　vitality　it　had　once　had　seemed　gone。　There　was　nothing　in　the　eye　sockets　but　cobwebs。　Even　the　massive　cage　of　wired　bones　sagged　in　places；　and　it　was　clear　that　some　were　missing；　although　none　lay　around　the　chair。　Simon　had　a　dim　recollection　of　seeing　yellowed　bones　somewhere　else；　but　pushed　it　away：　something　different　had　caught　his　attention。
　　　　　　　Eahlstan　Fiskerne。　He　stood　before　the　stone　statue　and　examined　it；　trying　to　find　the　thing　that　would　scratch　the　itching　spot　in　his　memory。　When　he　had　seen　the　martyr…king's　face　in　his　Dream　Road　vision；　there　had　been　something　familiar　about　it。　In　the　throne　room　before；　on　his　way　to　the　tower；　he　had　thought　the　resemblance　was　to　the　statue　he　had　looked　at　so　often。　But　now　he　knew　there　was　something　else　familiar　about　the　face。　It　was　much　like　another；　one　he　had　also　seen　many　times…in　Jiriki's　mirror；　in　reflecting　ponds；　in　the　shiny　surface　of　a　shield。　Eahlstan　looked　much　like　Simon。
He　lifted　his　hand　and　stared　at　the　golden　ring；　remembering。　The　Fisher　King's　people　had　gone　into　exile；　and　Prester　John　had　later　e　to　claim　the　killing　of　the　dragon　and　with　it　the　throne　of　Erkynland。　Morgenes　had　entrusted　him　wit