rj.thegreathunt-第52部分

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　　　　　　　〃Yes；　Verin　Sedai。〃　Ingtar　sounded　unsettled。　It　was　never　easy　discovering　Aes　Sedai　knew　the　secrets　you　were　trying　to　keep　from　them；　Perrin　hoped　Moiraine　had　not　told　anyone　about　him。　〃But　I　have　…　I　have　a　new　sniffer。〃　The　Shienaran　Lord　gestured　to　Perrin。　〃This　man　seems　to　have　the　ability；　also。　I　will　find　the　Horn　of　Valere；　as　I　swore　to；　have　no　fear。　Your　pany　will　be　wele；　Aes　Sedai；　if　you　wish　to　ride　with　us。〃　To　Perrin's　surprise；　he　did　not　sound　as　if　he　entirely　meant　it。
　　　　　　　Verin　glanced　at　Perrin；　and　he　shifted　uneasily。　〃A　new　sniffer；　just　when　you　lose　your　old　one。　How　。。。　providential。　You　found　no　tracks？　No；　of　course　not。　You　said　no　trace。　Odd。　Last　night。〃　She　twisted　in　her　saddle；　looking　back　north；　and　for　a　moment　Perrin　almost　thought　she　was　going　to　ride　back　the　way　she　had　e。
　　　　　　　Ingtar　frowned　at　her。　〃You　think　their　disappearance　has　something　to　do　with　the　Horn；　Aes　Sedai？〃
　　　　　　　Verin　settled　back。　〃The　Horn？　No。　No；　I　。。。　think　not。　But　it　is　odd。　Very　odd。　I　do　not　like　odd　things　until　I　can　understand　them。〃
　　　　　　　〃I　can　have　two　men　escort　you　back　to　where　they　disappeared；　Verin　Sedai。　They　will　have　no　trouble　taking　you　right　to　it。〃
　　　　　　　〃No。　If　you　say　they　vanished　without　a　trace　。。。〃　For　a　long　moment　she　studied　Ingtar；　her　face　unreadable。　〃I　will　ride　with　you。　Perhaps　we　will　find　them　again；　or　they　will　find　us。　Talk　to　me　as　we　ride；　Lord　Ingtar。　Tell　me　everything　you　can　about　the　young　man。　Everything　he　did；　everything　he　said。〃
　　　　　　　They　started　off　in　a　jingle　of　harness　and　armor；　Verin　riding　close　beside　Ingtar　and　questioning　him　closely；　but　too　low　to　be　overheard。　She　gave　Perrin　a　look　when　he　tried　to　maintain　his　place；　and　he　fell　back。
　　　　　　　〃It's　Rand　she's　after；〃　Mat　murmured；　〃not　the　Horn。〃
　　　　　　　Perrin　nodded。　Wherever　you've　gotten　to；　Rand；　stay　there。　It's　safer　than　here。


Chapter　15
（Heron…Mark　Sword　Hilt）
Kinslayer

　　　　　　　The　way　the　strangely　faded　distant　hills　seemed　to　slide　toward　Rand　when　he　looked　straight　at　them　made　his　head　spin；　unless　he　wrapped　himself　in　the　void。　Sometimes　the　emptiness　crept　up　on　him　unawares；　but　he　avoided　it　like　death。　Better　to　be　dizzy　than　share　the　void　with　that　uneasy　light。　Better　by　far　to　stare　at　the　faded　land。　Still；　he　tried　not　to　look　at　anything　too　far　away　unless　it　lay　right　ahead　of　them。
　　　　　　　Hurin　wore　a　fixed　look　as　he　concentrated　on　sniffing　the　trail；　as　if　he　were　trying　to　ignore　the　land　the　trail　crossed。　When　the　sniffer　did　notice　what　lay　around　them；　he　would　give　a　start　and　wipe　his　hands　on　his　coat；　then　push　his　nose　forward　like　a　hound；　eyes　glazing；　excluding　everything　else。　Loial　rode　slumped　in　his　saddle　and　frowned　as　he　glanced　around；　ears　twitching　uneasily；　muttering　to　himself。
　　　　　　　Again　they　crossed　land　blackened　and　burned；　even　the　soil　crunching　under　the　horses'　hooves　as　if　it　had　been　seared。　The　burned　swathes；　sometimes　a　mile　wide；　sometimes　only　a　few　hundred　paces；　all　ran　east　and　west　as　straight　as　an　arrow's　flight。　Twice　Rand　saw　the　end　of　a　burn；　once　as　they　rode　over　it；　once　as　they　passed　nearby；　they　tapered　to　points　at　the　ends。　At　least；　the　ends　he　saw　were　so；　but　he　suspected　they　were　all　the　same。
　　　　　　　Once　he　had　watched　Whatley　Eldin　decorate　a　cart　for　Sunday；　back　home　in　Emond's　Field；　What　painting　the　scenes　in　bright　colors；　and　the　intricate　scrollwork　that　surrounded　them。　For　the　borders；　What　let　the　point　of　his　brush　touch　the　cart；　making　a　thin　line　that　grew　thicker　as　he　pressed　harder；　then　thinner　again　as　he　eased　up。　That　was　how　the　land　looked；　as　if　someone　had　streaked　it　with　a　monstrous　brush　of　fire。
　　　　　　　Nothing　grew　where　the　burns　were；　though　some　burns；　at　least；　had　the　feel　of　a　thing　long　done。　Not　so　much　as　a　hint　of　char　remained　in　the　air　there；　not　a　whiff　even　when　he　leaned　down　to　break　off　a　black　twig　and　smell　it。　Old；　yet　nothing　had　e　in　to　reclaim　the　land。　Black　gave　way　to　green；　and　green　to　black；　along　knife…edge　lines。
　　　　　　　In　its　own　way；　the　rest　of　the　land　lay　as　dead　as　the　burns；　though　grass　covered　the　ground　and　leaves　covered　the　trees。　Everything　had　that　faded　look；　like　clothes　too　often　washed　and　too　long　left　in　the　sun。　There　were　no　birds　or　animals；　not　that　Rand　saw　or　heard。　No　hawk　wheeling　in　the　sky；　no　bark　of　a　hunting　fox；　no　bird　singing。　Nothing　rustled　in　the　grass　or　lit　on　a　tree　branch。　No　bees；　or　butterflies。　Several　times　they　crossed　streams；　the　water　shallow；　though　often　it　had　dug　itself　a　deep　gulley　with　steep　banks　the　horses　had　to　scramble　down　and　climb　on　the　other　side。　The　water　ran　clear　except　for　the　mud　the　horses'　hooves　stirred；　but　never　a　minnow　or　tadpole　wriggled　out　of　the　roiling；　not　even　a　waterspider　dancing　across　the　surface；　or　a　hovering　lacewing。
　　　　　　　The　water　was　drinkable；　which　was　just　as　well；　since　their　waterbottles　could　not　last　forever。　Rand　tasted　it　first；　and　made　Loial　and　Hurin　wait　to　see　if　anything　happened　to　him　before　he　let　them　drink。　He　had　gotten　them　into　this；　it　was　his　responsibility。　The　water　was　cool　and　wet；　but　that　was　the　best　that　could　be　said　for　it。　It　tasted　flat；　as　if　it　had　been　boiled。　Loial　made　a　face；　and　the　horses　did　not　like　it　either；　shaking　their　heads　and　drinking　reluctantly。
　　　　　　　There　was　one　sign　of　life；　at　least；　Rand　thought　it　must　be　so。　Twice　he　saw　a　wispy　streak　crawling　across　the　sky　like　a　line　drawn　with　cloud。　The　lines　were　too　straight　to　be　natural；　it　seemed；　but　he　could　not　imagine　what　might　make　them。　He　did　not　mention　the　lines　to　the　others。　Perhaps　they　did　not　see；　Hurin　intent　on　the　trail　as　he　was　and　Loial　drawn　in　on　himself。　They　said　nothing　of　the　lines；　at　any　rate。
　　　　　　　When　they　had　ridden　half　the　morning；　Loial　abruptly　swung　down　from　his　huge　horse　without　a　word　and　strode　to　a　stand　of　giantsbroom；　their　trunks　splitting　into　many　thick　branches；　stiff　and　straight；　not　a　pace　above　the　ground。　At　the　top；　all　split　again；　into　the　leafy　brush　that　gave　them　their　name。
　　　　　　　Rand　pulled　Red　up　and　started　to　ask　what　he　was　doing；　but　something　about　the　Ogier's　manner；　as　if　he　himself　were　uncertain；　kept　Rand　silent。　After　staring　at　the　tree；　Loial　put　his　hands　on　a　trunk　and　began　to　sing　in　a　deep；　soft　rumble。
　　　　　　　Rand　had　heard　Ogier　treesong；　once；　when　Loial　had　sung　to　a　dying　tree　and　brought　it　back　to　life；　and　he　had　heard　of　sung　wood；　objects　wrought　from　trees　by　the　treesong。　The　Talent　was　fading；　Loial　said；　he　was　one　of　the　few　who　had　the　ability；　now；　that　was　what　made　sung　wood　even　more　sought　after　and　treasured。　When　he　had　heard　Loial　sing　before；　it　had　been　as　if　the　earth　itself　sang；　but　now　the　Ogier　murmured　his　song　almost　diffidently；　and　the　land　echoed　it　in　a　whisper。
　　　　　　　It　seemed　pure　song；　music　without　words；　at　least　none　that　Rand　could　make　out；　if　there　were　words；　they　faded　into　the　music　just　as　water　pours　into　a　stream。　Hurin　gasped　and　stared。
　　　　　　　Rand　was　not　sure　what　it　was　Loial　did；　or　how；　soft　as　the　song　was；　it　caught　him　up　hypnotically；　filling　his　mind　almost　the　way　the　void　did。　Loial　ran　his　big　hands　along　the　trunk；　singing；　caressing　with　his　voice　as　well　as　his　fingers。　The　trunk　now　seemed　smoother；　somehow；　as　if　his　stroking　were　shaping　it。　Rand　blinked。　He　was　sure　the　piece　Loial　worked　on　had　had　branches　at　its　top　just　like　the　others；　but　now　it　stopped　in　a　rounded　end　right　above　the　Ogier's　head。　Rand　opened　his　mouth；　but　the　song　quieted　him。　It　seemed　so　familiar；　that　song；　as　if　he　should　know　it。
　　　　　　　Abruptly　Loial's　voice　rose　to　a　climax　…　almost　a　hymn　of　thanks；　it　sounded　…　and　ended；　fading　as　a　breeze　fades。
　　　　　　　〃Burn　me；〃　Hurin　breathed。　He　looked　stunned。　〃Burn　me；　I　never　heard　anything　like　。。。　Burn　me。〃
　　　　　　　In　his　hands　Loial　held　a　staff　as　tall　as　he　was　and　as　thick　as　Rand's　forearm；　smooth　and　polished。　Where　the　trunk　had　been　on　the　giantsbroom　was　a　small　stem　of　new　growth。
　　　　　　　Rand　took　a　deep　breath。　Always　something　new；　always　something　I　didn't　expect；　and　sometimes　it　isn't　horrible。
　　　　　　　He　watched　Loial　mount；　resting　the　staff　across　his　saddle　in　front　of　him；　and　wondered　why　the　Ogier　wanted　a　staff　at　all；　since　they　were　riding。　Then　he　saw　the　thick　rod；　not　as　big　as　it　was；　but　in　relation　to　the　Ogier；　saw　the　way　Loial　handled　it。　〃A　quarterstaff；〃　he　said；　surprised。　〃I　didn't　know　Ogier　carried　weapons；　Loial。〃
　　　　　　　〃Usually　we　do　not；〃　the　Ogier　replied　almost　curtly。　〃Usually。　The　price　has　always　been　too　high。〃　He　hefted　the　huge　quarterstaff　and　wrinkled　his　broad　nose　with　distaste。　〃Elder　Haman　would　surely　say　I　am　putting　a　long　handle　on　my　axe；　but　I　am　not　just　being　hasty　or　rash；　Rand。　This　place　。。。〃　He　shivered；　and　his　ears　twitched。
　　　　　　　〃We'll　find　our　way　back　soon；〃　Rand　said；　trying　to　sound　confident。
　　　　　　　Loial　spoke　as　if　he　had　not　heard。　〃Everything　is　。。。　linked；　Rand。　Whether　it　lives　or　not；　whether　it　thinks　or　not；　everything　that　is；　fits　together。　The　tree　does　not　think；　but　it　is　part　of　the　whole；　and　the　whole　has　a　…　a　feeling。　I　can't　explain　any　more　than　I　can　explain　what　being　happy　is；　but。。。　Rand；　this　land　was　glad　for　a　weapon　to　be　made。　Glad！〃
　　　　　　　〃The　Light　shine　on　us；〃　Hurin　murmured　nervously；　〃and　the　Creator's　hand　shelter　us。　Though　we　go　to　the　last　embrace　of　the　mother；　the　Light　illumine　our　way。〃　He　kept　repeating　the　catechism　as　if　it　had　a　charm　to　protect　him。
　　　　　　　Rand　resisted　the　impulse　to　look　around。　He　definitely　did　not　look　up。　All　it　would　take　to　break　them　all　was　another　of　those　smoky　lines　across　the　sky　right　at　that　moment。　〃There's　nothing　here　to　hurt　us；〃　he　said　firmly。　〃And　we'll　keep　a　good　watch　and　make　sure　nothing　does。〃
　　　　　　　He　wanted　to　laugh　at　himself；　sounding　so　certain。　He　was　not　certain　about　anything。　But　watching　the　others　…　Loial　with　his　tufted　ears　drooping；　and　Hurin　trying　not　to　look　at　anything　…　he　knew　one　of　them　had　to　seem　to　be　sure；　at　least；　or　fear　and　uncertainty　would　break　them　all　apart。　The　Wheel　weaves　as　the　Whe