rj.acrownofswords-第112部分

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ut　masks　and　costumes　grew　more　elaborate　as　purses　grew　heavier。　More　elaborate；　and　frequently　more　scandalous。　Men　and　women　alike　were　often　decked　in　feathers　that　revealed　more　skin　than　Riselle　or　that　woman　back　in　the　Mol　Hara。　No　merce　moved　in　the　streets　or　canals　today；　though　a　number　of　shops　seemed　to　be　open　…　along　with　every　tavern　and　inn；　of　course　…　but　here　and　there　a　wagon　made　its　way　through　the　throng　or　a　barge　was　poled　along　supporting　a　platform　where　young　men　and　women　posed　in　bright　bird　masks　that　covered　their　entire…heads；　with　spreading　crests　sometimes　rising　a　full　pace；　moving　long　colorful　wings　in　such　a　way　that　the　rest　of　their　costumes　were　exposed　only　in　flashes。　Which　was　just　as　well；　considering。
　　　According　to　Beslan；　these　settings；　as　they　were　called；　were　usually　presented　in　guild　halls　and　private　palaces　and　houses。　The　entire　festival　normally　took　place　indoors　for　the　most　part。　It　did　not　snow　properly　in　Ebou　Dar　even　when　the　weather　was　as　it　should　be　…　Beslan　said　he　would　like　to　see　this　snow；　one　day　…　but　apparently　ordinary　winter　was　cold　enough　to　keep　people　from　running　around　outdoors　all　but　unclothed。　With　the　heat；　everything　was　spilling　into　the　streets。　Wait　until　night　fell；　Beslan　said；　then　Mat　would　really　see　something。　As　sunlight　faded；　so　did　inhibitions。
　　　Staring　at　a　tall　slender　woman　gliding　along　through　the　crowd　in　mask　and　feathered　cloak　and　beyond　that；　six　or　seven　feathers；　Mat　wondered　what　inhibitions　some　of　these　folk　had　left　to　shed。　He　almost　shouted　at　her　to　cover　herself　with　that　cloak。　She　was　pretty；　but　out　in　the　street；　before　the　Light　and　everybody？
　　　Those　wagons　carrying　the　settings　attracted　followers；　of　course；　thick　knots　of　men　and　women　who　shouted　and　laughed　as　they　tossed　coins；　and　sometimes　folded　notes；　onto　the　wagons　and　squeezed　everyone　else　in　the　street　aside。　He　became　used　to　fleeing　ahead　until　they　could　duck　down　a　crossing　street；　or　waiting　until　the　setting　went　by　to　cross　an　intersection　or　bridge。　While　waiting；　Birgitte　and　Nalesean　tossed　coins　to　filthy　urchins　and　dirtier　beggars。　Well；　Nalesean　tossed；　Birgitte　concentrated　on　the　children；　and　pressed　each　coin　into　a　grubby　hand　like　a　gift；
　　　In　one　of　those　waits；　Beslan　suddenly　put　a　hand　on　Nalesean's　arm；　raising　his　voice　above　the　crowd　and　a　cacophony　of　music　ing　from　at　least　six　different　places。　〃Forgive　me；　Tairen；　but　not　him。〃　A　ragged　man　edged　back　into　the　throng；　warily；　gaunt…cheeked　and　bony；　he　seemed　to　have　lost　whatever　pitiful　feathers　he　might　have　found　for　his　hair。
　　　〃Why　not？〃　Nalesean　demanded。
　　　〃No　brass　ring　on　his　little　finger；〃　Beslan　replied。　〃He's　not　in　the　guild。〃
　　　〃Light；〃　Mat　said；　〃a　man　can't　even　beg　in　this　city　without　belonging　to　a　guild？〃　Maybe　it　was　his　tone。　The　beggar　leaped　for　his　throat；　a　knife　appearing　in　his　grimy　fist。
　　　Without　thinking；　Mat　grabbed　the　man's　arm　and　spun；　slinging　him　away　into　the　crowd；　some　people　cursed　at　Mat；　some　at　the　sprawling　beggar。　Some　tossed　the　fellow　a　coin。
　　　From　the　corner　of　his　eye；　Mat　saw　a　second　skinny　man　in　rags　try　to　push　Birgitte　out　of　the　way　to　reach　him　with　a　long　knife。　It　was　a　foolish　mistake　to　underestimate　the　woman　because　of　her　costume；　from　somewhere　among　those　feathers　she　produced　a　knife　and　stabbed　him　beneath　the　arm。
　　　〃Look　out！〃　Mat　shouted　at　her；　but　there　was　no　time　for　warnings；　even　as　he　shouted；　he　drew　from　his　coatsleeve　and　threw　side…armed。　The　blade　streaked　past　her　face　to　sink　into　the　throat　of　yet　another　beggar　flaunting　steel　before　he　could　plant　it　in　her　ribs。
　　　Suddenly　there　were　beggars　everywhere　with　knives；　and　clubs　studded　with　spikes；　screams　and　shouts　rose　as　people　in　masks　and　costumes　scrambled　to　get　out　of　the　way。　Nalesean　slashed　a　man　in　rags　across　the　face；　sending　him　reeling；　Beslan　ran　another　through　the　middle；　while　his　costumed　cronies　fought　still　others。
　　　Mat　had　no　time　to　see　more；　he　found　himself　back…to…back　with　Birgitte　and　facing　his　own　adversaries。　He　could　feel　her　shifting　against　him；　hear　her　mutter　curses；　but　he　was　barely　conscious　of　it；　Birgitte　could　take　care　of　herself；　and　watching　the　two　men　in　front　of　him；　he　was　not　sure　he　could　do　the　same。　The　hulking　fellow　with　the　toothless　sneer　had　only　one　arm　and　a　puckered　socket　where　his　left　eye　had　been；　but　his　fist　held　a　club　two　feet　long；　encircled　by　iron　bands　that　sprouted　spikes　like　steel　thorns。　His　rat…faced　little　panion　still　had　both　eyes　and　several　teeth；　and　despite　sunken　cheeks　and　arms　that　seemed　all　bone　and　sinew；　he　moved　like　a　snake；　licking　his　lips　and　flicking　a　rusty　dagger　from　hand　to　hand。　Mat　aimed　the　shorter　knife　in　his　own　hand　first　at　one；　then　the　other。　It　was　still　long　enough　to　reach　a　man's　vitals；　and　they　danced　and　shuffled；　each　waiting　for　the　other　to　leap　at　him　first
　　　〃Old　Cully　won't　like　this；　Spar；〃　the　bigger　man　growled；　and　rat…face　darted　forward；　rusty　blade　flashing　from　hand　to　hand。
　　　He　did　not　count　on　the　knife　that　suddenly　appeared　in　Mat's　left　hand　and　sliced　across　his　wrist。　The　dagger　clattered　to　the　paving　stones；　but　the　fellow　flung　himself　at　Mat　anyway。　As　Mat's　other　blade　stabbed　into　his　chest；　he　squealed；　eyes　going　wide；　arms　wrapping　around　Mat　convulsively。　The　bald　fellow's　sneer　widened；　his　club　rising　as　he　stepped　in。
　　　The　grin　vanished　as　two　beggars　swarmed　over　him；　snarling　and　stabbing。
　　　Staring　incredulously；　Mat　shoved　rat…face's　corpse　away。　The　street　was　clear　for　fifty　paces　except　for　batants；　and　everywhere　beggars　rolled　on　the　pavement；　two　or　three　or　sometimes　four　stabbing　at　one；　beating　him　with　clubs　or　rocks。
　　　Beslan　caught　Mat's　arm。　There　was　blood　on　his　face；　but　he　was　grinning。　〃Let's　get　out　of　here　and　let　the　Fellowship　of　Alms　finish　its　business。　There's　no　honor　in　fighting　beggars；　and　besides；　the　guild　won't　leave　any　of　these　interlopers　alive。　Follow　me。〃　Nalesean　was　scowling　…　doubtless　he　saw　no　honor　in　fighting　beggars　either　…　and　Beslan's　friends；　several　with　their　costumes　awry　and　one　with　his　mask　off　so　another　could　dab　at　a　cut　across　his　forehead。　The　man　with　the　cut　was　grinning；　too。　Birgitte　bore　not　a　scratch　that　Mat　could　see；　and　her　costume　looked　as　neat　as　it　had　back　in　the　palace。　She　made　her　knife　disappear；　there　was　no　way　she　could　hide　a　blade　under　those　feathers；　but　she　did。
　　　Mat　made　no　protest　at　being　drawn　away；　but　he　did　growl；　〃Do　beggars　always　go　around　attacking　people　in　this。。。　this　city？〃　Beslan　might　not　appreciate　hearing　it　called　a　bloody　city。
　　　The　man　laughed。　〃You　are　ta'veren；　Mat。　There's　always　excitement　around　ta'veren。〃
　　　Mat　smiled　back　with　gritted　teeth。　Bloody　fool；　bloody　city；　and　bloody　ta'veren。　Well；　if　a　beggar　slit　his　throat；　he　would　not　have　to　go　back　to　the　palace　and　let　Tylin　peel　him　like　a　ripe　pear。　e　to　think　of　it；　she　had　called　him　her　little　pear。　Bloody　everything！
　　　The　street　between　the　dyer's　shop　and　The　Rose　of　the　Elbar　had　its　share　of　revelers；　though　not　many　scantily　clad。　Apparently　you　had　to　have　coin　to　go　near　naked。　Though　the　acrobats　in　front　of　the　merchant's　house　on　the　corner　came　close；　the　men　barefoot　and　bare…chested　in　tight；　brightly　colored　breeches；　the　women　in　even　tighter　breeches　and　thin　blouses。　They　all　had　a　few　feathers　in　their　hair；　as　did　the　capering　musicians　playing　in　front　of　the　small　palace　at　the　far　corner；　a　woman　with　a　flute；　another　blowing　on　a　tall；　twisted　black　tube　covered　with　levers；　and　a　fellow　beating　a　tambour　for　all　he　was　worth。　The　house　they　had　e　to　watch　looked　shut　up　tight。
　　　The　tea　at　The　Rose　was　as　bad　as　ever；　which　meant　it　was　much　better　than　the　wine。　Nalesean　stuck　to　the　sour　local　ale。　Birgitte　said　thanks　without　saying　for　what；　and　Mat　shrugged　it　off　silently；　they　grinned　at　each　other　and　tapped　cups。　The　sun　rose；　and　Beslan　sat　balancing　first　one　boot　on　the　toe　of　the　other；　then　the　other　way　around；　but　his　panions　began　growing　restive；　no　matter　how　often　he　pointed　out　that　Mat　was　ta'veren。　A　scuffle　with　beggars　was　hardly　proper　excitement；　the　street　was　too　narrow　for　any　settings　to　pass；　the　women　were　not　as　pretty　as　elsewhere；　and　even　looking　at　Birgitte　seemed　to　pall　once　they　realized　that　she　did　not　intend　to　kiss　even　one　of　them。　With　protestations　of　regret　that　Beslan　would　not　e；　they　hurried　off　to　find　somewhere　more　exhilarating。　Nalesean　took　a　stroll　down　the　alley　beside　the　dyer's；　and　Birgitte　vanished　into　The　Rose's　murky　interior　to　find；　she　said；　whether　there　was　anything　at　all　fit　to　drink　hidden　in　some　forgotten　corner。
　　　〃I　never　expected　to　see　a　Warder　garbed　like　that；〃　Beslan　said；　changing　his　boots　around。
　　　Mat　blinked。　The　fellow　had　sharp　eyes。　She　had　not　removed　her　mask　once。　Well；　as　long　as　he　did　not　know　about　…
　　　〃I　think　you　will　be　good　for　my　Mother；　Mat。〃
　　　Choking；　Mat　sprayed　tea　into　the　passersby。　Several　glared　at　him　angrily；　and　one　slender　woman　with　a　nice　little　bosom　gave　him　a　coy　smile　from　beneath　a　blue　mask　he　thought　was　meant　to　be　a　wren。　She　stamped　a　foot　and　stalked　off　when　he　did　not　smile　back。　Luckily；　no　one　was　angry　enough　to　take　it　beyond　glares　before　they　too　went　on　their　way。　Or　maybe　unluckily。　He　would　not　have　minded　if　six　or　eight　piled　on　him　right　then。
　　　〃What　do　you　mean？〃　he　said　hoarsely。
　　　Beslan's　head　whipped　around　in　wide…eyed　surprise。　〃Why；　her　choosing　you　for　her　pretty；　of　course。　Why　is　your　face　so　red？　Are　you　angry？　Why　…？〃　Suddenly　he　slapped　his　forehead　and　laughed。　〃You　think　I　will　be　angry。　Forgive　me；　I　forget　you're　an　outlander。　Mat；　she's　my　mother；　not　my　wife。　Father　died　ten　years　ago；　and　she　has　always　claimed　to　be　too　busy。　I　am　just　glad　she　chose　someone　I　like。　Where　are　you　going？〃
　　　He　did　not　realize　he　was　on　his　feet　until　Beslan　spoke。　〃I　just。。。　need　to　clear　my　head。〃
　　　〃But　you're　drinking　tea；　Mat。〃
　　　Dodging　around　a　green　sedan　chair；　h