rj.acrownofswords-第142部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　　　〃A　marvelous　idea；〃　said　a　woman's　voice　from　the　door　to　the　street。　〃Shall　we　go　up　together　and　surprise　Elayne？〃　Mat　had　never　seen　the　two　women　who　walked　into　the　hall　before；　but　their　faces　were　Aes　Sedai　faces。　The　speaker's　was　long　and　cold　as　her　voice；　her　panion's　framed　by　scores　of　thin　dark　braids　worked　with　colored　beads。　Nearly　two　dozen　men　crowded　in　behind　them；　bulky　fellows　with　heavy　shoulders；　clubs　and　knives　in　hand。　Mat　shifted　his　grip　on　the　ashandarei；　he　knew　trouble　when　he　saw　it；　and　the　foxhead　on　his　chest　was　cool；　almost　cold　against　his　skin。　Somebody　was　holding　the　One　Power。
　　　The　two　Wise　Women　nearly　fell　over　dropping　curtsies　as　soon　as　they　saw　those　ageless　features；　but　Nynaeve　certainly　knew　trouble；　too。　Her　mouth　worked　soundlessly　as　the　pair　came　down　the　hallway；　her　face　all　consternation　and　self…recrimination。　Behind　him；　Mat　heard　a　sword　leaving　its　scabbard；　but　he　was　not　about　to　look　back　to　see　whose。　Lan　just　stood　there；　which　meant　of　course　that　he　looked　like　a　leopard　ready　to　pounce。
　　　〃They're　Black　Ajah；〃　Nynaeve　said　at　last。　Her　voice　started　faint　and　gained　strength；　as　she　went　on。　〃Falion　Bhoda　and　Ispan　Shefar。　They　mitted　murder　in　the　Tower；　and　worse　since。　They're　Darkfriends；　and。。。　〃　Her　voice　faltered　for　an　instant；　〃。。。　they　have　me　shielded。〃
　　　The　newers　continued　to　advance　serenely。　〃Have　you　ever　heard　such　nonsense；　Ispan？〃　the　long…faced　Aes　Sedai　asked　her　panion；　who　stopped　grimacing　at　the　dust　long　enough　to　smirk　at　Nynaeve。　〃Ispan　and　I　e　from　the　White　Tower；　while　Nynaeve　and　her　friends　are　rebels　against　the　Amyrlin　Seat。　They'll　be　punished　severely　for　that；　and　so　will　anyone　who　helps　them。〃　With　a　shock；　Mat　realized　the　woman　did　not　know；　she　thought　that　he　and　Lan　and　the　others　were　just　hired　strongarms。　Falion　directed　a　smile　at　Nynaeve；　it　made　a　blizzard　warm　by　parison。　〃There's　someone　who　will　be　overjoyed　to　see　you　when　we　take　you　back；　Nynaeve。　She　thinks　you　are　dead。　Better　the　rest　of　you　go　now。　You　don't　want　to　meddle　in　Aes　Sedai　affairs。　My　men　will　see　you　to　the　river。〃　Without　taking　her　eyes　from　Nynaeve；　Falion　motioned　for　the　men　behind　her　to　e　forward。
　　　Lan　moved。　He　did　not　draw　his　sword；　and　against　Aes　Sedai　he　should　have　had　no　chance　if　he　had；　no　chance　in　any　case；　but　one　moment　he　was　standing　still　and　the　next　he　had　thrown　himself　at　the　pair。　Just　before　he　struck；　he　grunted　as　though　hit　hard；　but　he　crashed　into　them；　carrying　both　Black　sisters　to　the　dusty　floor。　That　opened　the　sluicegates　wide。
　　　Lan　pushed　himself　to　hands　and　knees；　shaking　his　head　groggily；　and　one　of　the　bulky　fellows　raised　an　iron…strapped　club　to　smash　his　skull。　Mat　stabbed　the　fellow　in　the　belly　with　his　spear　as　Beslan　and　Nalesean　and　the　five　Redarms　rushed　to　meet　the　Darkfriends'　shouting　charge。　Lan　staggered　to　his　feet；　sword　sweeping　out　to　open　a　Darkfriend　from　crotch　to　neck。　There　was　not　much　room　to　work　sword　or　ashandarei　in　the　corridor；　but　the　tight　quarters　were　what　allowed　them　to　face　odds　of　two　to　one　or　worse　without　being　overe　in　the　first　moment。　Grunting　men　struggled　with　them　face…to…face；　elbowing　each　other　for　room　to　stab　or　swing　a　club　at　them。
　　　Small　spaces　remained　clear　around　the　Black　sisters；　and　around　Nynaeve；　they　saw　to　that　themselves。　A　wiry　Andoran　Redarm　almost　bumped　into　Falion；　but　at　the　last　instant　he　jerked　into　the　air　and　flew　across　the　hallway；　knocking　down　two　of　the　heavy…shouldered　Darkfriends　in　his　flight　before　smacking　into　the　wall　and　sliding　down；　the　back　of　his　head　leaving　a　bloody　smear　on　the　cracked；　dusty　plaster。　A　bald　headed　Darkfriend　squeezed　through　the　line　of　defenders　and　rushed　at　Nynaeve　with　out…stretched　knife；　he　yelled　as　his　feet　were　suddenly　jerked　back　from　him；　a　yell　that　cut　off　when　his　face　hit　the　floor　so　hard　that　his　head　bounced。
　　　Obviously　Nynaeve　was　no　longer　shielded；　and　if　the　chilly　silver　foxhead　sliding　around　Mat's　chest　as　he　fought　was　not　enough　indication　that　she　and　the　Black　sisters　were　in　some　sort　of　struggle；　the　way　they　glared　at　her　and　she　at　them；　ignoring　the　battle　around　them；　shouted　the　fact。　The　two　Wise　Women　looked　on　in　horror；　they　had　their　curved　knives　in　their　fists；　but　they　huddled　against　the　wall；　staring　from　Nynaeve　to　the　other　two　with　eyes　wide　and　mouths　hanging　open。
　　　〃Fight；〃　Nynaeve　snapped　at　them。　She　turned　her　head　just　a　fraction；　so　she　could　see　them　as　well　as　Falion　and　Ispan。　〃I　cannot　do　it　alone；　they're　linked。　If　you　don't　fight　them；　they　will　kill　you。　You　know　about　them；　now！〃　The　Wise　Women　gaped　at　her　as　though　she　had　suggested　spitting　in　the　Queen's　face。　In　the　midst　of　shouts　and　grants；　Ispan　laughed　melodiously。　In　the　midst　of　shouts　and　grants；　a　shrill　scream　echoed　down　the　stairs。
　　　Nynaeve's　head　swung　that　way。　Suddenly　she　staggered；　and　her　head　swung　back　like　a　wounded　badger's；　with　a　scowl　that　should　have　made　Falion　and　Ispan　leave　right　then　if　they　had　any　sense。　Nynaeve　spared　an　agonized　glance　for　Mat；　though。　〃There　was　channeling　upstairs；〃　she　said　through　her　teeth。　〃There's　trouble。〃
　　　Mat　hesitated。　More　likely；　Elayne　had　seen　a　rat。　More　likely。。。　He　managed　to　knock　aside　a　dagger　thrust　at　his　ribs；　but　there　was　no　room　to　stab　back　with　the　ashandarei　or　use　the　haft　like　a　quarterstaff。　Beslan　stabbed　past　him　and　took　his　attacker　through　the　heart。
　　　〃Please；　Mat；〃　Nynaeve　said　tightly。　She　never　begged。　She　would　cut　her　own　throat　first。　〃Please。〃
　　　With　a　curse；　Mat　pulled　himself　out　of　the　fight　and　dashed　up　the　steep；　narrow　stairs；　taking　all　six　flights　in　the　dark　stairwell　at　a　dead　ran。　There　was　not　a　single　window　to　give　light。　If　it　was　just　a　rat；　he　was　going　to　shake　Elayne　till　her　teeth。。。　He　burst　out　onto　the　top　floor；　not　much　brighter　than　the　stairwell　with　only　one　window　at　the　street　end；　burst　into　a　scene　from　nightmare。
　　　Women　lay　sprawled　everywhere。　Elayne　was　one；　half　on　her　back　against　the　wall；　eyes　closed。　Vanin　crouched　on　his　knees；　blood　streaming　from　nose　and　ears；　feebly　trying　to　pull　himself　up　against　the　wall。　The　last　woman　on　her　feet；　Janira；　fled　toward　Mat　as　soon　as　she　saw　him。　He　had　thought　of　her　as　a　hawk；　with　her　hooked　beak　of　a　nose　and　sharp　cheekbones；　but　her　face　was　pure　terror　now；　those　dark　eyes　wide　and　stark。
　　　〃Help　me！〃　she　screamed　at　him；　and　a　man　caught　her　from　behind。　He　was　an　ordinary…looking　fellow；　maybe　a　little　older　than　Mat；　of　the　same　height　and　slender　in　a　plain　gray　coat。　Smiling；　he　took　Janira's　head　between　his　hands　and　twisted　sharply。　The　sound　of　her　neck　breaking　was　like　a　dry　branch　snapping。　He　let　her　drop　in　a　boneless　heap　and　gazed　down　at　her。　For　a　moment；　his　smile　looked。。。　rapturous。
　　　By　the　light　of　a　pair　of　lanterns；　a　small　knot　of　men　just　beyond　Vanin　were　prying　open　a　door　to　the　squeal　of　rusted　hinges；　but　Mat　hardly　noticed。　His　eyes　went　from　Janira's　crumpled　corpse　to　Elayne。　He　had　promised　to　keep　her　safe　for　Rand。　He　had　promised。　With　a　cry；　he　launched　himself　at　the　killer；　ashandarei　extended。
　　　Mat　had　seen　Myrddraal　move；　but　this　fellow　was　quicker；　hard　as　that　was　to　believe。　He　just　seemed　to　flow　from　in　front　of　the　spear；　and　seizing　the　haft；　he　pivoted；　flinging　Mat　past　him　five　paces　down　the　hall。
　　　Breath　left　when　he　hit　the　floor　in　a　small　cloud　of　dust。　So　did　the　ashandarei。　Straggling　for　air；　he　pushed　himself　up；　foxhead　dangling　from　his　open　shirt。　Dragging　a　knife　from　under　his　coat；　he　flung　himself　at　the　man　again　just　as　Nalesean　appeared　at　the　head　of　the　stairs；　sword　in　hand。　Now　they　had　him；　however　quick　he。。。
　　　The　man　made　a　Myrddraal　seem　stiff。　He　slid　around　Nalesean's　thrust　as　though　there　was　not　a　bone　in　his　body；　right　hand　shooting　out　to　seize　Nalesean's　throat。　His　hand　came　away　with　a　liquid；　ripping　sound。　Blood　fountained　past　Nalesean's　beard。　His　sword　dropped；　ringing　on　the　dusty　stone　floor；　and　he　clutched　both　hands　to　his　ruined　neck；　red　running　through　his　fingers　as　he　fell。
　　　Mat　crashed　into　the　killer's　back；　and　they　all　three　hit　the　floor　together。　He　had　no　punctions　against　stabbing　a　man　in　the　back　when　it　was　necessary；　especially　a　man　who　could　tear　somebody's　throat　out。　He　should　have　let　Nalesean　stay　in　bed。　The　thought　came　sadly　as　he　drove　the　blade　home　hard；　then　a　second　time；　a　third。
　　　The　man　twisted　in　his　grip。　It　should　not　have　been　possible；　but　somehow　the　fellow　rolled　over　beneath　him；　pulling　the　knife　hilt　out　of　his　hand。　Nalesean's　staring　eyes　and　bloody　throat　were　a　reminder　right　before　his　eyes。　Desperately　he　grabbed　the　man's　wrists；　one　hand　slipping　a　little　in　the　blood　that　ran　down　the　fellow's　hand。
　　　The　man　smiled　at　him。　With　a　knife　sticking　out　of　his　side；　he　smiled！　〃He　wants　you　dead　as　much　as　he　wants　her；〃　he　said　softly。　And　as　if　Mat　was　not　holding　him　at　all；　his　hands　moved　toward　Mat's　head；　driving　Mat's　arms　back。
　　　Mat　pushed　frantically；　threw　all　of　his　weight　against　the　fellow's　arms　to　no　avail。　Light；　he　might　as　well　have　been　a　child　fighting　a　grown　man。　The　fellow　was　making　a　game　of　it；　taking　his　bloody　time。　Hands　touched　his　head。　Where　was　his　flaming　luck？　He　gave　a　heave　with　what　seemed　his　last　strength　…　and　the　medallion　fell　against　the　man's　cheek。　The　man　screamed。　Smoke　rose　around　the　edges　of　the　foxhead；　and　a　sizzle　like　bacon　frying。　Convulsively；　he　hurled　Mat　away　with　hands　and　feet　both。　This　time；　Mat　flew　ten　paces　and　slid。
　　　When　he　scrambled　to　his　feet；　half…dazed；　the　man　was　already　up；　hands　trembling　at　his　face。　A　raw　red　brand　marked　where　the　foxhead　had　fallen。　Gingerly；　Mat　fingered　the　medallion。　It　was　cool。　Not　the　cool　of　someone　channeling　nearby　…　maybe　they　were　still　at　it　below；　but　that　was　too　far　off　…　just　the　cool　of　silver。　He　had　no　notion　what　this　fellow　was；　except　that　he　certainly　was　not　human；　but　between　that　burn　and　three　stab　wounds；　with　the　knife　hilt　still　jutting　out　beneath　his　arm；　he　had　to　be