rj.eyeoftheworld-第5部分

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　　　　　　　Only　two　of　the　men　before　the　fire；　Haral　Luhhan；　the　blacksmith；　and　Jon　Thane；　the　miller；　so　much　as　glanced　at　the　boys　as　they　entered。　Master　Luhhan；　though；　made　it　more　than　a　glance。　The　blacksmith's　arms　were　as　big　as　most　men's　legs；　roped　with　heavy　muscle；　and　he　still　wore　his　long　leather　apron　as　if　he　had　hurried　to　the　meeting　straight　from　the　forge。　His　frown　took　them　both　in；　then　he　straightened　around　in　his　chair　deliberately；　turning　his　attention　back　to　an　over…studious　tamping　of　his　pipe　with　a　thick　thumb。
　　　　　　　Curious；　Rand　slowed；　then　barely　bit　back　a　yelp　as　Mat　kicked　his　ankle。　His　friend　nodded　insistently　toward　the　doorway　at　the　back　of　the　mon　room　and　hurried　on　without　waiting。　Limping　slightly；　Rand　followed　less　quickly。
　　　　　　　〃What　was　that　about？〃　he　demanded　as　soon　as　he　was　in　the　hall　that　to　the　kitchen。　〃You　almost　broke　my　…　〃
　　　　　　　〃It's　old　Luhhan；〃　Mat　said；　peering　past　Rand's　shoulder　into　the　mon　room。　〃I　think　he　suspects　I　was　the　one　who　…　〃　He　cut　off　abruptly　as　Mistress　al'Vere　bustled　out　of　the　kitchen；　the　aroma　of　fresh…baked　bread　wafting　ahead　of　her。
　　　　　　　The　tray　in　her　hands　carried　some　of　the　crusty　loaves　for　which　she　was　famous　around　Emond's　Field；　as　well　as　plates　of　pickles　and　cheese。　The　food　reminded　Rand　abruptly　that　he　had　eaten　only　an　end　of　bread　before　leaving　the　farm　that　morning。　His　stomach　gave　an　embarrassing　rumble。
　　　　　　　A　slender　woman；　with　her　thick　braid　of　graying　hair　pulled　over　one　shoulder；　Mistress　al'Vere　smiled　in　a　motherly　fashion　that　took　in　both　of　them。　〃There　is　more　of　this　in　the　kitchen；　if　you　two　are　hungry；　and　I　never　knew　boys　your　age　who　weren't。　Or　any　other　age；　for　that　matter。　If　you　prefer；　I'm　baking　honeycakes　this　morning。〃
　　　　　　　She　was　one　of　the　few　married　women　in　the　area　who　never　tried　to　play　matchmaker　with　Tam。　Toward　Rand　her　motherliness　extended　to　warm　smiles　and　a　quick　snack　whenever　he　came　by　the　inn；　but　she　did　as　much　for　every　young　man　in　the　area。　If　she　occasionally　looked　at　him　as　if　she　wanted　to　do　more；　at　least　she　took　it　no　further　than　looks；　for　that　he　was　deeply　grateful。Without　waiting　for　a　reply　she　swept　on　into　the　mon　room。　Immediately　there　was　the　sound　of　chairs　scraping　on　the　floor　as　the　men　got　to　their　feet；　and　exclaimings　over　the　smell　of　the　bread。　She　was　easily　the　best　cook　in　Emond's　Field；　and　not　a　man　for　miles　around　but　eagerly　leaped　at　a　chance　to　put　his　feet　under　her　table。
　　　　　　　〃Honeycakes；〃　Mat　said；　smacking　his　lips。
　　　　　　　〃After；〃　Rand　told　him　firmly；　〃or　we'll　never　get　done。〃
　　　　　　　A　lamp　hung　over　the　cellar　stairs；　just　beside　the　kitchen　door；　and　another　made　a　bright　pool　in　the　stone…walled　room　beneath　the　inn；　banishing　all　but　a　little　dimness　in　the　furthest　corners。　Wooden　racks　along　the　walls　and　across　the　floor　held　casks　of　brandy　and　cider；　and　larger　barrels　of　ale　and　wine；　some　with　taps　driven　in。　Many　of　the　wine　barrels　were　marked　with　chalk　in　Bran　al'Vere's　hand；　giving　the　year　they　had　been　bought；　what　peddler　had　brought　them；　and　in　which　city　they　had　been　made；　but　all　of　the　ale　and　brandy　was　the　make　of　Two　Rivers　farmers　or　of　Bran　himself。　Peddlers；　and　even　merchants；　sometimes　brought　brandy　or　ale　from　outside；　but　it　was　never　as　good　and　cost　the　earth；　besides；　and　nobody　ever　drank　it　more　than　once。
　　　　　　　〃Now；〃　Rand　said；　as　they　set　their　casks　in　the　racks；　〃what　did　you　do　that　you　have　to　avoid　Master　Luhhan？〃
　　　　　　　Mat　shrugged。　〃Nothing；　really。　I　told　Adan　al'Caar　and　some　of　his　snot…nosed　friends…Ewin　Finngar　and　Dag　Coplin　…　that　some　farmers　had　seen　ghost　hounds；　breathing　fire　and　running　through　the　woods。　They　ate　it　up　like　clotted　cream。〃
　　　　　　　〃And　Master　Luhhan　is　mad　at　you　for　that？〃　Rand　said　doubtfully。
　　　　　　　〃Not　exactly。〃　Mat　paused；　then　shook　his　head。　〃You　see；　I　covered　two　of　his　dogs　with　flour；　so　they　were　all　white。　Then　I　let　them　loose　near　Dag's　house。　How　was　I　to　know　they'd　run　straight　home？　It　really　isn't　my　fault。　If　Mistress　Luhhan　hadn't　left　the　door　open　they　couldn't　have　gotten　inside。　It　isn't　like　I　intended　to　get　flour　all　over　her　house。〃　He　gave　a　bark　of　laughter。　〃I　hear　she　chased　old　Luhhan　and　the　dogs；　all　three；　out　of　the　house　with　a　broom。〃
　　　　　　　Rand　winced　and　laughed　at　the　same　time。　〃If　I　were　you；　I'd　worry　more　about　Alsbet　Luhhan　than　about　the　blacksmith。　She's　almost　as　strong；　and　her　temper　is　a　lot　worse。　No　matter；　though。　If　you　walk　fast；　maybe　he　won't　notice　you。〃　Mat's　expression　said　he　did　not　think　Rand　was　funny。
　　　　　　　When　they　went　back　through　the　mon　room；　though；　there　was　no　need　for　Mat　to　hurry。　The　six　men　had　their　chairs　in　a　tight　knot　before　the　fireplace。　With　his　back　to　the　fire；　Tam　was　speaking　in　a　low　voice；　and　the　others　were　leaning　forward　to　listen；　so　intent　on　his　words　they　would　likely　not　have　noticed　if　a　flock　of　sheep　had　been　driven　through。　Rand　wanted　to　move　closer；　to　hear　what　they　were　talking　about；　but　Mat　plucked　at　his　sleeve　and　gave　him　an　agonized　look。　With　a　sigh　he　followed　Mat　out　to　the　cart。
　　　　　　　On　their　return　to　the　hallway　they　found　a　tray　by　the　top　of　the　steps；　and　hot　honeycakes　filling　the　hall　with　their　sweet　aroma。　There　were　two　mugs；　as　well；　and　a　pitcher　of　steaming　mulled　cider。　Despite　his　own　admonition　about　waiting　until　later　Rand　found　himself　making　the　last　two　trips　between　cart　and　cellar　while　trying　to　juggle　a　cask　and　a　piping　honeycake。
　　　　　　　Setting　his　final　cask　in　the　racks；　he　wiped　crumbs　from　his　mouth　while　Mat　was　unburdening　himself；　then　said；　〃Now　for　the　glee　…〃
　　　　　　　Feet　clattered　on　the　stairs；　and　Ewin　Finngar　half　fell　into　the　cellar　in　his　haste；　his　pudgy　face　shining　with　eagerness　to　impart　his　news。　〃There　are　strangers　in　the　village。〃　He　caught　his　breath　and　gave　Mat　a　wry　look。　〃I　haven't　seen　any　ghost　hounds；　but　I　hear　somebody　floured　Master　Luhhan's　dogs。　I　hear　Mistress　Luhhan　has　ideas　who　to　look　for；　too。〃
　　　　　　　The　years　separating　Rand　and　Mat　from　Ewin；　only　fourteen；　were　usually　more　than　enough　for　them　to　give　short　shrift　to　anything　he　had　to　say。　This　time　they　exchanged　one　startled　glance；　then　both　were　talking　at　once。
　　　　　　　〃In　the　village？〃　Rand　asked。　〃Not　in　the　woods？〃
　　　　　　　Right　on　top　of　him　Mat　added；　〃Was　his　cloak　black？　Could　you　see　his　face？〃
　　　　　　　Ewin　looked　uncertainly　from　one　of　them　to　the　other；　then　spoke　quickly　when　Mat　took　a　threatening　step。　〃Of　course　I　could　see　his　face。　And　his　cloak　is　green。　Or　maybe　gray。　It　changes。　It　seems　to　fade　into　wherever　he's　standing。　Sometimes　you　don't　see　him　even　when　you　look　right　at　him；　not　unless　he　moves。　And　hers　is　blue；　like　the　sky；　and　ten　times　fancier　than　any　feastday　clothes　I　ever　saw。　She's　ten　times　prettier　than　anybody　I　ever　saw；　too。　She's　a　high…born　lady；　like　in　the　stories。　She　must　be。〃
　　　　　　　〃Her？〃　Rand　said。　〃Who　are　you　talking　about？〃　He　stared　at　Mat；　who　had　put　both　hands　on　top　of　his　head　and　squeezed　his　eyes　shut。
　　　　　　　〃They're　the　ones　I　meant　to　tell　you　about；〃　Mat　muttered；　〃before　you　got　me　off　onto　…〃　He　cut　off；　opening　his　eyes　for　a　sharp　glance　at　Ewin。　〃They　arrived　last　evening；〃　Mat　went　on　after　a　moment；　〃and　took　rooms　here　at　the　inn。　I　saw　them　ride　in。　Their　horses；　Rand。　I　never　saw　horses　so　tall；　or　so　sleek。　They　look　like　they　could　run　forever。　I　think　he　works　for　her。〃
　　　　　　　〃In　service；〃　Ewin　broke　in。　〃They　call　it　being　in　service；　in　the　stories。〃
　　　　　　　Mat　continued　as　if　Ewin　had　not　spoken。　〃Anyway；　he　defers　to　her；　does　what　she　says。　Only　he　isn't　like　a　hired　man。　A　soldier；　maybe。　The　way　he　wears　his　sword；　it's　part　of　him；　like　his　hand　or　his　foot。　He　makes　the　merchants'　guards　look　like　cur　dogs。　And　her；　Rand。　I　never　even　imagined　anyone　like　her。　She's　out　of　a　gleeman's　story。　She's　like。。。　like。。。　〃　He　paused　to　give　Ewin　a　sour　look。　〃　。。。　like　a　high…born　lady；〃　he　finished　with　a　sigh。
　　　　　　　〃But　who　are　they？〃　Rand　asked。　Except　for　merchants；　once　a　year　to　buy　tabac　and　wool；　and　the　peddlers；　outsiders　never　came　into　the　Two　Rivers；　or　as　good　as　never。　Maybe　at　Taren　Ferry；　but　not　this　far　south。　Most　of　the　merchants　and　peddlers　had　been　ing　for　years；　too；　so　they　did　not　really　count　as　strangers。　Just　outsiders。　It　was　a　good　five　years　since　the　last　time　a　real　stranger　appeared　in　Emond's　Field；　and　he　had　been　trying　to　hide　from　some　sort　of　trouble　up　in　Baerlon　that　nobody　in　the　village　understood。　He　had　not　stayed　long。
　　　　　　　〃What　do　they　want？〃　Mat　exclaimed。　〃I　don't　care　what　they　want。　Strangers；　Rand；　and　strangers　like　you　never　even　dreamed　of。　Think　of　it！〃
　　　　　　　Rand　opened　his　mouth；　then　closed　it　without　speaking。　The　black　cloaked　rider　had　him　as　nervous　as　a　cat　in　a　dog　run。　It　just　seemed　like　an　awful　coincidence；　three　strangers　around　the　village　at　the　same　time。　Three　if　this　fellow's　cloak　that　changed　colors　never　changed　to　black。
　　　　　　　〃Her　name　is　Moiraine；〃　Ewin　said　into　the　momentary　silence。　〃I　heard　him　say　it。　Moiraine；　he　called　her。　The　Lady　Moiraine。　His　name　is　Lan。　The　Wisdom　may　not　like　her；　but　I　do。　〃
　　　　　　　〃What　makes　you　think　Nynaeve　dislikes　her？〃　Rand　said。
　　　　　　　〃She　asked　the　Wisdom　for　directions　this　morning；〃　Ewin　said；　〃and　called　her　'child。〃'　Rand　and　Mat　both　whistled　softly　through　their　teeth；　and　Ewin　tripped　over　his　tongue　in　his　haste　to　explain。　〃The　Lady　Moiraine　didn't　know　she　was　the　Wisdom。　She　apologized　when　she　found　out。　She　did。　And　asked　some　questions　about　herbs；　and　about　who　is　who　around　Emond's　Field；　just　as　respectfully　as　any　woman　in　the　village…more　so　than　some。　She's　always　asking　questions；　about　how　old　people　are；　and　how　long　they've　lived　where　they　live；　and　。。。　oh；　I　don't　know　what　all。　Anyway；　Nynaeve　answered　like　she'd　bitten　a　green　sweetberry。　Then；　when　the　Lady　Moiraine　walked　away；　Nynaeve　stared　after　her　like；　like　。。。　well；　it　wasn't　friendly；　I　can　tell　you　that。〃
　　　　　　　〃Is　that　all？〃　Rand　said。　〃You　know　Nynaeve's　temper。　When　Cenn　Buie　called　her　a　child　last　year；　she　thumped　him　on　the　head　with