tw.togreenangeltower2-第22部分

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other　and　waved　something　that　looked　like　a　silver　baton。　His　hand　flashed　in　a　wide　arc；　making　a　loud　musical　noise　which　had　something　of　the　metallic　in　it；　the　silver　thing　in　his　hand　opened　like　a　lady's　fan；　spreading　into　a　glittering；　semicircular　shield。
　　　　　　　〃A　y'ei　g'eisu！〃　he　shouted　up　at　the　blankly　staring　keep。　〃　Yas　'a　pripuma　jo…shoi！〃
　　　　　　　The　lights　in　Naglimund's　windows　seemed　to　waver　like　wind…fluttered　candles　as　shadows　moved　in　their　depths。　Eolair　felt　himself　almost　overwhelmed　with　the　urge　to　turn　and　ride　away。　This　was　no　longer　a　human　place；　and　the　poisonous　terror　he　was　feeling　was　nothing　like　the　anticipatory　fear　before　any　human　battle。　He　turned　to　Maegwin。　Her　eyes　were　closed　and　her　mouth　moved　in　silent　speech。　Isorn　seemed　similarly　unnerved；　and　when　Eolair　turned　in　his　saddle　and　looked　back；　the　pale　faces　of　his　fellow　Hernystiri　were　as　gape…mouthed　and　hollow…eyed　as　a　row　of　corpses。
Brynioch　preserve　us；　the　count　thought　desperately；　we　do　not　belong　in　this。　They　will　bolt　in　a　moment　if　I　do　the　wrong　thing。
　　　　　　　Deliberately；　he　tugged　his　sword　from　its　scabbard　and　showed　it　to　his　men；　then　held　it　high　over　his　head　for　a　moment　before　dropping　it　to　his　side。　It　was　only　a　small　show　of　bravery；　but　it　was　something。
　　　　　　　Now　Jiriki　and　his　mother　Likimeya　rode　forward；　halting　on　either　side　of　Yizashi。　After　a　moment's　whispered　conversation；　Likimeya　spurred　her　horse　a　few　paces　ahead。　Then；　startlingly；　she　began　to　sing。
　　　　　　　Her　voice；　thin　at　first　against　the　rude　piping　of　the　wind；　grew　slowly　stronger。　The　impenetrable　Sithi　tongue　flowed　out；　slurring　and　clicking　yet　somehow　as　smooth　as　warm　oil　poured　from　a　jar。　The　song　rose　and　fell；　pulsed；　then　rose　again；　each　time　growing　more　powerful。　Although　Eolair　understood　nothing　of　the　words；　there　was　something　clearly　denunciatory　to　the　roll　and　swoop　of　it；　something　challenging　in　the　cadence。　Likimeya's　voice　chimed　like　a　herald's　brazen　horn；　and　as　with　the　call　of　a　horn；　there　was　a　ring　of　cold　metal　beneath　the　music。
　　　　　　　〃What　goes　on　here？〃　whispered　Isorn。
　　　　　　　Eolair　gestured　for　silence。
The　mist　floating　before　the　walls　of　Naglimund　seemed　to　thicken；　as　though　one　dream　was　ending　and　another　beginning。　Something　changed　in　Likimeya's　voice。　It　took　a　moment　before　Eolair　recognized　that　the　mistress　of　the　Sithi　had　not　altered　her　song；　but　rather　that　another　voice　had　joined　it。　At　first　the　new　thread　of　melody　clung　close　to　the　challenge…song。　The　tone　was　as　strong　as　Likimeya's；　but　where　hers　was　metal；　this　new　voice　was　stone　and　ice。　After　some　long　moments　the　second　voice　began　to　sing　around　the　original　melody；　weaving　a　strange　pattern　like　a　glass　filigree　over　Likimeya's　belling　tones。　The　sound　of　it　made　the　Count　of　Nad　Mullach's　skin　stretch　and　tingle　and　his　body　hair　lift；　even　beneath　the　layers　of　clothing。
　　　　　　　Eolair　raised　his　eyes。　His　heart　began　to　beat　even　more　swiftly。
　　　　　　　Through　the　dimming　fog；　a　thin　black　shadow　appeared　atop　the　castle　wall；　rising　into　view　as　smoothly　as　though　lifted　by　an　unseen　hand。　It　was　man…sized；　Eolair　decided；　but　the　mist　subtly　distorted　its　shape；　so　that　one　moment　it　seemed　larger；　the　next　smaller　and　thinner　than　any　living　thing。　It　looked　down　on　them；　black…cloaked；　face　invisible　beneath　a　large　hood…but　Eolair　did　not　need　to　see　its　face　to　know　that　it　was　the　source　of　the　high；　stone…edged　voice。　For　long　moments　it　only　stood　in　the　swirling　mist　atop　the　wall；　embroidering　upon　Likimeya's　song。　Finally；　as　if　by　some　prior　agreement；　they　both　fell　still　at　the　same　moment。
　　　　　　　Likimeya　broke　the　silence；　calling　out　something　in　the　Sithi　tongue。　The　black　apparition　answered；　its　words　ringing　like　shards　of　jagged　flint；　and　yet　Eolair　could　hear　that　the　words　they　spoke　were　much　the　same；　the　differences　mainly　in　rhythm　and　the　greater　harshness　of　the　robed　creature's　speech。　The　conversation　seemed　interminable。
　　　　　　　There　was　a　movement　behind　him。　Eolair　flinched；　his　horse　startled；　kicking　snow。　Sky…haired　Zinjadu；　the　lore…mistress；　had　brought　her　own　mount　to　where　the　mortals　stood。
　　　　　　　〃They　speak　of　the　Pact　of　Sesuad'ra。〃　Her　eyes　were　fixed　on　Likimeya　and　her　opposite；　'They　speak　of　old　heartbreaks　and　the　mourning　songs　yet　to　be　sung。〃
　　　　　　　〃Why　so　much　talk？〃　asked　Isorn　raggedly。　〃The　waiting　is　dreadful。〃
〃It　is　our　way。〃　Zinjadu's　lips　tightened；　her　thin　face　seemed　carved　in　pale　golden　stone。　〃Although　it　was　not　respected　when　Amerasu　was　slain。　〃
　　　　　　　She　offered　nothing　more。　Eolair　could　only　wait　in　uneasy　fear　and；　ultimately；　a　kind　of　horrible　boredom　as　challenge　and　response　were　offered。
　　　　　　　Finally　the　thing　on　the　wall　turned　its　attention　away　from　Likimeya　for　a　moment；　its　eyes　lit　on　the　count　and　his　few　scores　of　Hernystirinen。　With　a　movement　almost　as　broad　as　a　traveling　player's；　the　black…robed　one　flung　back　its　hood；　revealing　a　sleet…white　face　and　thin　hair　just　as　colorless　which　rose　in　the　wind；　floating　like　the　strands　of　some　sea…plant。
　　　　　　　〃Shu'do…tkzayha！〃　the　Norn　said　in　a　tone　almost　of　exultation。　〃Mortals！　They　will　yet　be　the　death　of　your　family；　Likimeya　Moon…Eyes！〃　He；　if　it　was　a　he；　spoke　the　Westerling　tongue　with　the　harsh　precision　of　a　gamekeeper　imitating　a　rabbit's　death　squeal。　〃Are　you　so　weak　that　you　summoned　this　rabble　to　aid　you？　It　is　hardly　Sinnach's　great　army！〃
　　　　　　　〃You　have　usurped　a　mortal's　castle；〃　said　Likimeya　coldly。　Beside　her　Jiriki　still　sat　his　horse　stiffly；　his　sharp…boned　face　empty　of　any　recognizable　emotion；　Eolair　wondered　again　how　anyone　could　ever　feel　they　knew　the　Sithi。　〃And　your　master　and　mistress　have　entered　into　the　disputes　of　mortals。　You　have　little　to　crow　about。〃
　　　　　　　The　Norn　laughed；　a　noise　like　fingernails　on　slate。　〃We　use　them；　yes。　They　are　the　rats　that　have　dug　into　the　walls　of　our　house…we　might　skin　them　for　gloves；　but　we　do　not　invite　them　in　to　sup　at　our　table！　That　is　your　weakness；　as　it　was　Amerasu　Ship…Born's。〃
　　　　　　　〃Do　not　speak　of　her！〃　Jiriki　cried。　〃Your　mouth　is　too　foul　to　hold　her　name；　Akhenabi！〃
　　　　　　　The　thing　on　the　wall　smiled；　a　folding　of　white。　〃Ah；　little　Jiriki。　I　have　heard　tales　of　you　and　your　adventuring…or　should　I　say　meddling。　You　should　have　e　to　live　in　the　north；　in　our　cold　land。　Then　you　would　have　grown　strong。　This　tolerance　for　mortals　is　a　terrible　weakness。　It　is　one　reason　why　your　family　has　grown　dissolute　while　mine　has　grown…ever　sterner；　ever　more　capable　of　doing　what　needs　to　be　done。〃　The　Norn　turned　and　lifted　his　head；　directing　his　words　now　to　Eolair　and　the　nervously　whispering　Hernystiri。　〃Mortal　men！　You　risk　more　than　your　lives　fighting　beside　these　immortals。　You　risk　your　souls　as　well！〃
　　　　　　　Eolair　could　hear　the　rustle　of　frightened　speech　behind　him。　He　spurred　his　horse　forward　a　few　paces　and　raised　his　sword。　〃Your　threats　arc　empty！〃　he　shouted。　〃Do　your　worst！　Our　souls　are　our　own！〃
　　　　　　　〃Count　Eolair！〃　Maegwin　called。　〃No！　It　is　Scadach；　the　Hole　in　Heaven！　Go　no　closer！〃
Akhenabi　leaned　down；　fixing　the　count　with　black…bead　eyes。　〃The　captain　of　the　mortals；　are　you？　So；　little　man；　if　you　do　not　fear　for　your　sake；　or　for　your　troop；　what　of　the　mortals　still　prisoned　within　these　walls？〃
　　　　　　　〃What　are　you　saying？！〃　Eolair　shouted。
The　creature　in　the　black　robe　turned　and　lifted　both　arms。　A　moment　later　two　more　figures　clambered　up　into　view　beside　him。　Although　they　also　wore　heavy　cloaks；　their　clumsy　movements　marked　them　as　something　other　than　the　spider…graceful　Norns。
〃Here　are　some　of　your　brethren！〃　trumpeted　Akhenabi。　〃They　are　our　guests。　Would　you　see　them　die　for　the　sake　of　your　immortal　allies　as　well？〃　The　two　figures　stood　silently；　slumped　and　hopeless。　The　faces　in　the　wind…lashed　hoods　were　clearly　those　of　men；　not　Gardenborn。
　　　　　　　Eolair　felt　himself　fill　with　helpless　rage。　〃Let　them　go！〃
The　Norn　laughed　again；　pleased。　〃Oh；　no；　little　mortal。　Our　guests　are　enjoying　themselves　too　much。　Would　you　like　to　see　them　show　their　joy？　Perhaps　they　will　dance。〃　He　lifted　his　hand　and　made　a　florid　gesture。　The　two　figures　began　slowly　to　revolve。　Horribly；　they　lifted　their　arms　in　a　parody　of　a　courtly　dance；　swaying　from　side　to　side；　stumbling　together　in　front　of　the　grinning　Norn。　They　locked　arms　for　a　moment；　teetering　precariously　along　the　edge　of　the　high　wall；　then　pulled　apart　and　resumed　their　solitary　posturing。
Through　the　tears　of　fury　that　misted　his　eyes；　Eolair　saw　Jiriki　spur　his　horse　a　few　ells　nearer　the　wall。　The　Sitha　lifted　a　bow；　then；　in　a　movement　so　swift　as　to　be　almost　invisible；　he　withdrew　an　arrow　from　the　quiver　on　his　saddle；　nocked　it；　and　drew　the　bow　until　it　trembled　in　a　wide　arc。　Atop　the　wall；　the　Nom　Akhenabi's　grin　widened。　He　made　a　wriggling　movement；　almost　a　shiver；　a　moment　later　he　had　disappeared；　leaving　only　the　two　shambling　shapes　in　hideous　lockstep。
　　　　　　　Jiriki　let　his　arrow　fly。　It　struck　one　of　the　two　dancers　in　the　foot；　jerking　back　the　leg　and　overbalancing　both　the　one　struck　and　the　one　to　whom　he　clung。　They　flailed　briefly　at　the　air；　then　toppled　off　the　wall；　dropping　twenty　ells　to　hit　with　a　terrible　smacking　noise　on　the　snow…covered　rocks　beneath。　Several　of　the　Hernystiri　shouted　and　groaned。
　　　　　　　〃Blood　of　Rhynn！〃　Eolair　screamed。　〃What　have　you　done？！〃
　　　　　　　Jiriki　rode　forward；　scanning　the　now　empty　wall　cautiously。　When　he　reached　the　huddled　bodies；　he　dismounted　and　kneeled；　then　waved　Eolair　forward。
　　　　　　　〃Why　did　you　do　that；　Jiriki？〃　the　count　demanded。　His　throat　felt　as　tight　as　if　someone's　fingers　were　curled　around　it。　'The　Norn　was　gone。〃　He　stared　down　at　the　twisted；　dark…robed　figures。　The　hands　and　fingers　protruding　from　their　robes　were　splayed　as　though　they　still　grabbed　at　a　safety　they　would　never　find。　〃Did　you　think　to　spare　them　torture？　What　if　we　drove　out　the　Norns…is　there　no　chance　we　could　rescue　them？〃
　　　　　　　Jiriki　said　nothing；　but　reached　down　with　surprising　gentleness　and　turned　over　the　nearest　of　the　bodies；　tugging　a　little　to　pull　it　free　of　t