sk.thetalisman-第132部分

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　　The　knight　cocked　its　great　helmet　again　in　that　strangely　delicate　gesture…Pardon；　my　boy　。　。　。　can　you　actually　be　speaking　to　me？　Then　it　swung　the　mace　again。
　　Perhaps　blinded　by　his　fear；　Jack　hadn't　noticed　until　now　how　slow　its　setup　for　those　swings　was；　how　clearly　it　telegraphed　the　trajectory　of　each　portentous　blow。　Maybe　its　joints　were　rusted；　he　thought。　At　any　rate；　it　was　easy　enough　for　him　to　dive　inside　the　circle　of　its　swing　now　that　his　head　was　clear　again。
　　He　stood　on　his　toes；　reached　up；　and　seized　the　black　helmet　in　both　hands。　The　metal　was　sickeningly　warm…like　hard　skin　that　carried　a　fever。
　　'Get　you　off　the　skin　of　this　world；'　he　said　in　a　voice　that　was　low　and　calm；　almost　conversational。　'In　her　name　I　mand　you。'　
　　The　red　light　in　the　helmet　puffed　out　like　the　candle　inside　a　carved　pumpkin；　and　suddenly　the　weight　of　the　helmet…fifteen　pounds　at　least…was　all　in　Jack's　hands；　because　there　was　nothing　else　supporting　it；　beneath　the　helmet；　the　suit　of　armor　had　collapsed。
　　'You　shoulda　killed　both　of　the　Ellis　brothers；'　Jack　said；　and　threw　the　empty　helmet　over　the　landing。　It　hit　the　floor　far　below　with　a　hard　bang　and　rolled　away　like　a　toy。　The　hotel　seemed　to　cringe。
　　Jack　turned　toward　the　broad　second…floor　corridor；　and　here；　at　last；　was　light：　clean；　clear　light；　like　that　on　the　day　he　had　seen　the　flying　men　in　the　sky。　The　hallway　ended　in　another　set　of　double　doors　and　the　doors　were　closed；　but　enough　light　came　from　above　and　below　them；　as　well　as　through　the　vertical　crack　where　they　were　latched　together；　to　tell　him　that　the　light　inside　must　be　very　bright　indeed。
　　He　wanted　very　badly　to　see　that　light；　and　the　source　of　that　light；　he　had　e　far　to　see　it；　and　through　much　bitter　darkness。
　　The　doors　were　heavy　and　inlaid　with　delicate　scrollwork。　Written　above　them　in　gold　leaf　which　had　flaked　a　bit　but　which　was　still　perfectly　readable　for　a'　that　an'　a'　that；　were　the　words　TERRITORIES　BALLROOM。
　　'Hey；　Mom；'　Jack　Sawyer　said　in　a　soft；　wondering　voice　as　he　walked　into　that　glow。　Happiness　lit　his　heart…that　feeling　was　rainbow；　rainbow；　rainbow。　'Hey；　Mom；　I　think　I'm　here；　I　really　think　I'm　here。'　
　　Gently　then；　and　with　awe；　Jack　grasped　a　handle　with　each　hand；　and　pressed　them　down。　He　opened　the　doors；　and　as　he　did；　a　widening　bar　of　clean　white　light　fell　on　his　upturned；　wondering　face。
　　　
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　　Sunlight　Gardener　happened　to　be　looking　back　up　the　beach　at　the　exact　moment　Jack　dispatched　the　last　of　the　five　Guardian　Knights。　He　heard　a　dull　boom；　as　if　a　low　charge　of　dynamite　had　gone　off　somewhere　inside　the　hotel。　At　the　same　moment；　bright　light　flashed　from　all　of　the　Agincourt's　second…floor　windows；　and　all　of　the　carved　brass　symbols…moons　and　stars　and　planetoids　and　weird　crooked　arrows…came　to　a　simultaneous　stop。
　　Gardener　was　decked　out　like　some　sort　of　goony　Los　Angeles　SWAT　squad　cop。　He　had　donned　a　puffy　black　flak…vest　over　his　white　shirt　and　carried　a　radio　pack…set　on　a　canvas　strap　over　one　shoulder。　Its　thick；　stubby　antenna　wavered　back　and　forth　as　he　moved。　Over　his　other　shoulder　was　slung　a　Weatherbee　。360。　This　was　a　hunting　rifle　almost　as　big　as　an　anti…aircraft　gun；　it　would　have　made　Robert　Ruark　himself　drool　with　envy。　Gardener　had　bought　it　six　years　ago；　after　circumstances　had　dictated　that　he　must　get　rid　of　his　old　hunting　rifle。　The　Weatherbee's　genuine　zebra…skin　case　was　in　the　trunk　of　a　black　Cadillac；　along　with　his　son's　body。
　　'Morgan！'
　　Morgan　did　not　turn　around。　He　was　standing　behind　and　slightly　to　the　left　of　a　leaning　grove　of　rocks　that　jutted　out　of　the　sand　like　black　fangs。　Twenty　feet　beyond　this　rock　and　only　five　feet　above　the　high…tide　line　lay　Speedy　Parker；　aka　Parkus。　As　Parkus；　he　had　once　ordered　Morgan　of　Orris　marked…there　were　livid　scars　down　the　insides　of　that　Mor…gan's　large　white　thighs；　the　marks　by　which　a　traitor　is　known　in　the　Territories。　It　had　only　been　through　the　intercession　of　Queen　Laura　herself　that　those　scars　had　not　been　made　to　run　down　his　cheeks　instead　of　his　inner　thighs；　where　they　were　almost　always　hidden　by　his　clothes。　Morgan…this　one　as　well　as　that　one…had　not　loved　the　Queen　any　better　for　her　intercession　。　。　。　but　his　hatred　for　Parkus；　who　had　sniffed　out　that　earlier　plot；　had　grown　exponentially。
　　Now　Parkus/Parker　lay　face…down　on　the　beach；　his　skull　covered　with　festering　sores。　Blood　dribbled　listlessly　from　his　ears。
　　Morgan　wanted　to　believe　that　Parker　was　still　alive；　still　suffering；　but　the　last　discernible　rise　and　fall　of　his　back　had　been　just　after　he　and　Gardener　arrived　down　here　at　these　rocks；　some　five　minutes　ago。
　　When　Gardener　called；　Morgan　didn't　turn　because　he　was　rapt　in　his　study　of　his　old　enemy；　now　fallen。　Whoever　had　claimed　revenge　wasn't　sweet　had　been　so　wrong。
　　'Morgan！'　Gardener　hissed　again。
　　Morgan　turned　this　time；　frowning。　'Well？　What？'
　　'Look！　The　roof　of　the　hotel！'
　　Morgan　saw　that　all　of　the　weathercocks　and　roof　ornaments…beaten　brass　shapes　which　spun　at　exactly　the　same　speed　whether　the　wind　was　perfectly　calm　or　howling　up　a　hurricane…had　stopped　moving。　At　the　same　instant　the　earth　rippled　briefly　under　their　feet　and　then　was　still　again。　It　was　as　if　a　subterranean　beast　of　enormous　size　had　shrugged　in　its　hibernal　sleep。　Morgan　would　almost　have　believed　he　had　imagined　it　if　it　had　not　been　for　the　widening　of　Gardener's　bloodshot　eyes。　I'll　bet　you　wish　you　never　left　Indiana；　Gard；　Morgan　thought。　No　earthquakes　in　Indiana；　right？
　　Silent　light　flashed　in　all　of　the　Agincourt's　windows　again。
　　'What　does　it　mean；　Morgan？'　Gardener　asked　hoarsely。　His　insane　fury　over　the　loss　of　his　son　had　for　the　first　time　moderated　into　fear　for　himself；　Morgan　saw。　That　was　a　bore；　but　he　could　be　whipped　back　into　his　previous　frenzy　again；　if　necessary。　It　was　just　that　Morgan　hated　to　have　to　waste　energy　on　anything　at　this　point　that　didn't　bear　directly　on　the　problem　of　ridding　the　world…all　the　worlds…of　Jack　Sawyer；　who　had　begun　as　a　pest　and　who　had　developed　into　the　most　monstrous　problem　of　Sloat's　life。
　　Gardener's　pack…set　squawked。
　　'Red　Squad　Leader　Four　to　the　Sunlight　Man！　e　in；　Sunlight　Man！'
　　'Sunlight　Man　here；　Red　Squad　Leader　Four；'　Gardener　snapped。　'What's　up？'
　　In　quick　succession　Gardener　took　four　gabbling；　excited　reports　that　were　all　exactly　the　same。　There　was　no　intelligence　the　two　of　them　hadn't　seen　and　felt　for　themselves…flashes　of　light；　weathercocks　at　a　standstill；　something　that　might　have　been　a　ground…tremblor　or　possibly　an　earthquake　preshock…but　Gardener　labored　with　sharp…eyed　enthusiasm　over　each　report　just　the　same；　asking　sharp　questions；　snapping　'Over！'　at　the　end　of　each　transmission；　sometimes　breaking　in　with　'Say　again'　or　'Roger。'　Sloat　thought　he　was　acting　like　a　bit　player　in　a　disaster　movie。
　　But　if　it　eased　him；　that　was　fine　with　Sloat。　It　saved　him　from　having　to　answer　Gardener's　question　。　。　。　and　now　that　he　thought　about　it；　he　supposed　it　was　just　possible　that　Gardener　didn't　want　his　question　answered；　and　that　was　why　he　was　going　through　this　rigmarole　with　the　radio。
　　The　Guardians　were　dead；　or　out　of　mission。　That　was　why　the　weathercocks　had　stopped；　and　that's　what　the　flashes　of　light　meant。　Jack　didn't　have　the　Talisman　。　。　。　at　least；　not　yet。　If　he　got　that；　things　in　Point　Venuti　would　really　shake；　rattle；　and　roll。　And　Sloat　now　thought　that　Jack　would　get　it　。　。　。　that　he　had　always　been　meant　to　get　it。　This　did　not　frighten　him；　however。
　　His　hand　reached　up　and　touched　the　key　around　his　neck。
　　Gardener　had　run　out　of　overs　and　rogers　and　ten…fours。　He　reshouldered　the　pack…set　and　looked　at　Morgan　with　wide；　frightened　eyes。　Before　he　could　say　a　word；　Morgan　put　gentle　hands　on　Gardener's　shoulders。　If　he　could　feel　love　for　anyone　other　than　his　poor　dead　son；　he　felt　love…of　a　twisted　variety；　most　certainly…for　this　man。　They　went　back　a　long　way；　both　as　Morgan　of　Orris　and　Osmond　and　as　Morgan　Sloat　and　Robert　'Sunlight'　Gardener。
　　It　had　been　with　a　rifle　much　like　the　one　now　slung　over　Gardener's　shoulder　that　Gardener　had　shot　Phil　Sawyer　in　Utah。
　　'Listen；　Gard；'　he　said　calmly。　'We　are　going　to　win。'
　　'Are　you　sure　of　that？'　Gardener　whispered。　'I　think　he's　killed　the　Guardians；　Morgan。　I　know　that　sounds　crazy；　but　I　realy　think…'　He　stopped；　mouth　trembling　infirmly；　lips　sheened　with　a　thin　membrane　of　spittle。
　　'We　are　going　to　win；'　Morgan　repeated　in　that　same　calm　voice；　and　he　meant　it。　There　was　a　sense　of　clear　predestination　in　him。　He　had　waited　many　years　for　this；　his　resolve　had　been　true；　it　remained　true　now。　Jack　would　e　out　with　the　Talisman　in　his　arms。　It　was　a　thing　of　immense　power　。　。　。　but　it　was　fragile。
　　He　looked　at　the　scoped　Weatherbee；　which　could　drop　a　charging　rhino；　and　then　he　touched　the　key　that　brought　the　lightning。
　　'We're　well　equipped　to　deal　with　him　when　he　es　out；'　Morgan　said；　and　added；　'In　either　world。　Just　as　long　as　you　keep　your　courage；　Gard。　As　long　as　you　stick　right　by　me。'
　　The　trembling　lips　firmed　a　bit。　'Morgan；　of　course　I'll…'
　　'Remember　who　killed　your　son；'　Morgan　said　softly。
　　At　the　same　instant　that　Jack　Sawyer　had　jammed　the　burning　coin　into　the　forehead　of　a　monstrosity　in　the　Territories；　Reuel　Gardener；　who　had　been　afflicted　with　relatively　harmless　petit　mal　epileptic　seizures　ever　since　the　age　of　six　（the　same　age　at　which　Osmond's　son　had　begun　to　show　signs　of　what　was　called　Blasted　Lands　Sickness）；　apparently　suffered　a　grand　mal　seizure　in　the　back　of　a　Wolf…driven　Cadillac　on　I…70；　westbound　to　California　from　Illinois。
　　He　had　died；　purple　and　strangling；　in　Sunlight　Gardener's　arms。
　　Gardener's　eyes　now　began　to　bulge。
　　'Remember；'　Morgan　repeated　softly。
　　'Bad；'　Gardener　whispered。　'All　boys。　Axiomatic。　That　boy　in　particular。'
　　'Right！'　Morgan　agreed。　'Hold　that　thought！　We　can　stop　him；　but　I　want　to　make　damn　sure　that　he　can　only　e　out　of　the　hotel　on　dry　land。'　
　　He　led　Gardener　down　to　the　rock　where　he　had　bee