rj.thepathofdaggers-第7部分

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a　man　had　even　remembered　the　weaves　being　woven　on　him；　if　not　the　instructions　she　had　given　him。　Such　a　lot　of　bother　that　caused！　Not　something　she　would　risk　again。
　　　　　　　At　last　Beldeine's　convulsions　lessened；　stopped。　She　raised　a　filthy　hand　to　her　head。　〃What　…？　What　happened？〃　she　said；　almost　inaudibly。　〃Did　I　faint？〃　Forgetfulness　was　another　good　point　about　the　weave；　not　unexpectedly。　After　all；　Father　must　not　remember　that　you　somehow　made　him　buy　that　expensive　dress。
　　　　　　　〃The　heat　is　very　bad；〃　Verin　said；　helping　her　to　sit　up　again。　〃I　have　felt　light…headed　myself　once　or　twice　today。〃　From　weariness；　not　heat。　Handling　that　much　of　saidar　took　it　out　of　you；　especially　when　you　had　already　done　it　four　times　today。　The　angreal　did　nothing　to　buffer　the　effects　once　you　stopped　using　it。　She　could　have　used　a　steadying　hand　herself。　〃I　think　that's　about　enough。　If　you're　fainting；　perhaps　they'll　find　something　for　you　to　do　out　of　the　sun。〃　The　prospect　did　not　seem　to　cheer　Beldeine　at　all。
　　　　　　　Rubbing　the　small　of　her　back；　Verin　stuck　her　head　out　of　the　tent。　Coram　and　Mendan　stopped　their　game　of　cat's　cradle　once　more；　there　was　no　sign　that　either　had　listened；　but　she　would　not　wager　her　life　on　it。　She　told　them　that　she　was　finished　with　Beldeine　and；　after　a　moment's　thought；　added　that　she　needed　another　pitcher　of　water　since　Beldeine　had　overturned　hers。　Both　men's　faces　darkened　beneath　their　tans。　That　would　be　passed　along　to　the　Wise　One　who　came　for　Beldeine。　It　would　serve　as　something　more　to　help　her　reach　her　decision。
　　　　　　　The　sun　still　had　a　long　way　to　fall　to　the　horizon；　but　the　ache　in　her　back　told　her　it　was　time　to　stop　for　the　day。　She　could　still　do　one　more　sister；　but　if　she　did；　by　morning　she　would　feel　it　in　every　muscle。　Her　eyes　fell　on　Irgain；　now　with　the　women　carrying　baskets　to　the　handmills。　How　would　her　life　have　gone　if　she　had　not　been　so　curious；　Verin　wondered。　For　one　thing；　she　would　have　married　Eadwin　and　remained　in　Far　Madding　instead　of　going　to　the　White　Tower。　She　would　be　long　dead；　for　another；　and　the　children　she　had　never　had；　and　her　grandchildren；　too。
　　　　　　　With　a　sigh；　she　turned　back　to　Coram。　〃When　Mendan　returns；　would　you　go　tell　Colinda　that　I　would　like　to　see　Irgain　Fatamed？〃　The　pain　in　her　muscles　tomorrow　would　be　a　small　penance　for　Beldeine's　suffering　over　that　spilled　water；　but　that　was　not　why　she　did　it；　or　even　her　curiosity；　really。　She　still　had　a　task。　Somehow；　she　had　to　keep　young　Rand　alive　until　it　was　time　for　him　to　die。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　The　room　might　have　been　in　a　grand　palace；　except　that　it　had　neither　windows　nor　doors。　The　fire　on　a　golden　marble　hearth　gave　no　heat；　and　the　flames　did　not　consume　the　logs。　The　man　seated　at　a　table　with　gilded　legs；　centered　on　a　silk　carpet　woven　with　glittering　threads　of　gold　and　silver；　cared　little　for　the　trappings　of　this　Age。　They　were　necessary　to　impress；　no　more。　Not　that　he　really　needed　more　than　himself　to　overawe　the　stiffest　pride。　He　called　himself　Moridin；　and　surely　no　one　had　ever　had　more　right　to　name　himself　Death。
　　　　　　　From　time　to　time　he　idly　stroked　one　of　the　two　mindtraps　that　hung　on　plain　silken　cords　around　his　neck。　At　his　touch；　the　blood…red　crystal　of　the　cour'souvra　pulsed；　swirls　moving　in　endless　depths　like　the　beating　of　a　heart。　His　real　attention　was　on　the　game　laid　out　before　him　on　the　table；　thirty…three　red　pieces　and　thirty…three　green　arrayed　across　a　playing　surface　of　thirteen　squares　by　thirteen。　A　re…creation　of　the　early　stages　of　a　famous　game。　The　most　important　piece；　the　Fisher；　black…and…white　like　the　playing　surface；　still　waited　in　its　starting　place　on　the　central　square。　A　plex　game；　sha'rah；　ancient　long　before　the　War　of　Power。　Sha'rah；　tcheran；　and　no'ri；　the　game　now　called　simply　〃stones；〃　each　had　adherents　who　claimed　it　enpassed　all　the　subtleties　of　life；　but　Moridin　had　always　favored　sha'rah。　Only　nine　people　living　even　remembered　the　game。　He　had　been　a　master　of　it。　Much　more　plex　than　tcheran　or　no'ri。　The　first　object　was　capture　of　the　Fisher。　Only　then　did　the　game　truly　begin。
　　　　　　　A　servant　approached；　a　slim　graceful　young　man　clad　all　in　white；　impossibly　handsome；　bowing　as　he　presented　a　crystal　goblet　on　a　silver　tray。　He　smiled；　but　it　did　not　touch　his　black　eyes；　eyes　more　lifeless　than　simply　dead。　Most　men　would　have　felt　unfortable　having　that　gaze　on　them。　Moridin　merely　took　the　goblet　and　motioned　the　servant　away。　The　vintners　of　this　time　produced　some　excellent　wines。　He　did　not　drink；　though。
　　　　　　　The　Fisher　held　his　attention；　baiting　him。　Several　pieces　had　varying　moves；　but　only　the　Fisher's　attributes　altered　according　to　where　it　stood；　on　a　white　square；　weak　in　attack　yet　agile　and　far…ranging　in　escape；　on　black；　strong　in　attack　but　slow　and　vulnerable。　When　masters　played；　the　Fisher　changed　sides　many　times　before　the　end。　The　green…and…red　goal…row　that　surrounded　the　playing　surface　could　be　threatened　by　any　piece；　but　only　the　Fisher　could　move　onto　it。　Not　that　he　was　safe；　even　there；　the　Fisher　was　never　safe。　When　the　Fisher　was　yours；　you　tried　to　move　him　to　a　square　of　your　color　behind　your　opponent's　end　of　the　board。　That　was　victory；　the　easiest　way；　but　not　the　only　one。　When　your　opponent　held　the　Fisher；　you　attempted　to　leave　him　no　choice　for　the　Fisher　but　to　move　onto　your　color。　Anywhere　at　all　along　the　goal…row　would　do；　holding　the　Fisher　could　be　more　dangerous　than　not。　Of　course；　there　was　a　third　path　to　victory　in　sha'rah；　if　you　took　it　before　letting　yourself　be　trapped。　The　game　always　degenerated　in　a　bloody　melee；　then；　victory　ing　only　with　plete　annihilation　of　your　enemy。　He　had　tried　that；　once；　in　desperation；　but　the　attempt　had　failed。　Painfully。
　　　　　　　Fury　boiled　suddenly　in　Moridin's　head；　and　black　flecks　swam　across　his　eyes　as　he　seized　the　True　Power。　Ecstasy　that　amounted　to　pain　thundered　through　him。　His　hand　closed　around　the　two　mindtraps；　and　the　True　Power　closed　around　the　Fisher；　snatching　it　into　the　air；　a　hair　from　crushing　it　to　powder；　crushing　the　powder　out　of　existence。　The　goblet　shattered　in　his　hand。　His　grip　bordered　on　crushing　the　cour'souvra。　The　saa　were　a　blizzard　of　black；　but　they　did　not　hinder　his　sight。　The　Fisher　was　always　worked　as　a　man；　a　bandage　blinding　his　eyes　and　one　hand　pressed　to　his　side；　a　few　drops　of　blood　dripping　through　his　fingers。　The　reasons；　like　the　source　of　the　name；　were　lost　in　the　mist　of　time。　That　troubled　him　sometimes；　enraged　him；　what　knowledge　might　be　lost　in　the　turnings　of　the　Wheel；　knowledge　he　needed；　knowledge　he　had　a　right　to。　A　right！
　　　　　　　Slowly　he　set　the　Fisher　back　on　the　board。　Slowly　his　fingers　uncurled　from　around　the　cour'souvra。　There　was　no　need　for　destruction。　Yet。　Icy　calm　replaced　rage　in　the　blink　of　an　eye。　Blood　and　wine　dripped　from　his　gashed　hand；　unnoticed。　Perhaps　the　Fisher　did　e　from　some　dim　remnant　of　a　memory　of　Rand　al'Thor；　the　shadow　of　a　shadow。　It　did　not　matter。　He　realized　he　was　laughing；　and　made　no　effort　to　stop。　On　the　board；　the　Fisher　stood　waiting；　but　in　the　greater　game；　al'Thor　moved　already　to　his　wishes。　And　soon；　now。。。　It　was　very　hard　to　lose　a　game　when　you　played　both　sides　of　the　board。　Moridin　laughed　so　hard　that　tears　rolled　down　his　face；　but　he　was　not　aware　of　them。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　
Chapter　1
　（Star　and　Birds）　
To　Keep　the　Bargain　
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　The　Wheel　of　Time　turns；　and　Ages　e　and　pass；　leaving　memories　that　bee　legend。　Legend　fades　to　myth；　and　even　myth　is　long　forgotten　when　the　Age　that　gave　it　birth　es　again。　In　one　Age；　called　the　Third　Age　by　some；　an　Age　yet　to　e；　an　Age　long　past；　a　wind　rose　above　the　great　mountainous　island　of　Tremalking。　The　wind　was　not　the　beginning。　There　are　neither　beginnings　nor　endings　to　the　turning　of　the　Wheel　of　Time。　But　it　was　a　beginning。
　　　　　　　East　the　wind　blew　across　Tremalking；　where　the　fair…skinned　Amayar　farmed　their　fields；　and　made　fine　glass　and　porcelain；　and　followed　the　peace　of　the　Water　Way。　The　Amayar　ignored　the　world　beyond　their　scattered　islands；　for　the　Water　Way　taught　that　this　world　was　only　illusion；　a　mirrored　reflection　of　belief；　yet　some　watched　the　wind　carry　dust　and　deep　summer　heat　where　cold　winter　rains　should　be　falling；　and　they　remembered　tales　heard　from　the　Atha'an　Miere。　Tales　of　the　world　beyond；　and　what　prophecy　said　was　to　e。　Some　looked　to　a　hill　where　a　massive　stone　hand　rose　from　the　earth；　holding　a　clear　crystal　sphere　larger　than　many　houses。　The　Amayar　had　their　own　prophecies；　and　some　of　those　spoke　of　the　hand　and　the　sphere。　And　the　end　of　illusions。
　　　　　　　Onward　the　wind　blew　into　the　Sea　of　Storms；　eastward　beneath　a　searing　sun　in　a　sky　abandoned　by　clouds；　whipping　the　tops　of　green　sea　swells；　battling　winds　from　the　south　and　westward　winds；　shearing　and　swirling　as　the　waters　below　heaved。　Not　yet　the　storms　of　winter's　heart；　though　winter　should　have　been　half　gone；　much　less　the　greater　storms　of　a　dying　summer；　but　winds　and　currents　that　could　be　used　by　ocean…faring　folk　to　coast　around　the　continent　from　World's　End　to　Mayene　and　beyond；　then　back　again。　Eastward　the　wind　howled；　over　rolling　ocean　where　the　great　whales　rose　and　sounded；　and　flying　fish　soared　on　outstretched　fins　two　paces　and　more　across；　eastward；　now　whirling　north；　east　and　north；　over　small　fleets　of　fishing　ships　dragging　their　nets　in　the　shallower　seas。　Some　of　those　fishermen　stood　gaping；　hands　idle　on　the　lines；　staring　at　a　huge　array　of　tall　vessels　and　smaller　that　purposefully　rode　the　wind's　hard　breath；　shattering　swells　with　bluff　bows；　slicing　swells　with　narrow；　their　banner　a　golden　hawk　with　talons　clutching　lightning；　a　multitude　of　streaming　banners　like　portents　of　storm。　East　and　north　and　on；　and　the　wind　reached　the　broad；　ship…filled　harbor　of　Ebou　Dar；　where　hundreds　of　Sea　Folk　vessels　rode　as　they　did　in　many　ports；　awaiting　word　of　the　Coramoor；　the　Chosen　One。
　　　　　　　Across　the　harbor　the　wind　roared；　tossing　small　ships　and　large；　across　the　city　itself；　gleaming　white　beneath　the　unfettered　sun；　spires　and　walls　and　color…r