rj.thepathofdaggers-第87部分

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　and　flocks　of　white　birds　flew　low　uttering　shrill　cries。　Illian　had　never　needed　walls。　Not　that　walls　would　have　done　the　City　any　good　against　him。
　　　　　　　There　was　considerable　disappointment　that　he　did　not　mean　to　enter　Illian；　though　no　one　spoke　a　plaint；　at　least　not　where　he　could　hear。　Still；　there　were　plenty　of　glum　faces　and　sour　mutters　as　hasty　camps　began　going　up。　Like　most　of　the　great　cities；　Illian　had　a　name　for　exotic　mystery；　free…handed　tapsters；　and　willing　women。　At　least　among　men　who　had　never　been　there；　even　when　it　was　their　own　capital。　Ignorance　always　inflated　a　city's　reputation　for　such　things。　As　it　was；　only　Morr　galloped　off　across　the　causeway。　Men　straightened　from　hammering　tent　pegs　or　setting　picket　lines　for　the　horses；　and　followed　him　with　jealous　eyes。　Nobles　watched　curiously；　while　trying　to　pretend　they　were　not。
　　　　　　　The　Asha'man　with　Gedwyn　paid　Morr　no　mind　as　they　made　their　own　camp；　which　consisted　of　a　pitch…black　tent　for　Gedwyn　and　Rochaid　and　a　space　where　damp　brown　grass　and　mud　were　squeezed　flat　and　dry；　for　the　rest　to　sleep　wrapped　in　their　cloaks。　That　was　done　with　the　Power；　of　course；　they　did　everything　with　the　Power；　not　even　bothering　to　build　cook　fires。　A　few　in　the　other　camps　stared　at　them；　wide…eyed；　as　the　tent　seemed　to　spring　up　of　its　own　accord　and　hampers　floated　away　from　packsaddles；　but　most　looked　anywhere　else　at　all　once　they　realized　what　was　going　on。　Two　or　three　of　the　black…coated　Soldiers　appeared　to　be　talking　to　themselves。
　　　　　　　Flinn　and　the　others　did　not　join　Gedwyn's　lot　…　they　had　a　pair　of　tents　that　went　up　not　far　from　Rand's　…　but　Dashiva　wandered　over　to　where　the　〃Storm　Leader〃　and　the　〃Attack　Leader〃　were　standing　at　their　ease；　and　occasionally　issuing　a　sharp　order。　A　few　words；　and　he　wandered　back　shaking　his　head　and　muttering　angrily　under　his　breath。　Gedwyn　and　Rochaid　were　not　a　friendly　pair。　As　well　they　were　not。
　　　　　　　Rand　took　to　his　tent　as　soon　as　it　was　pitched；　and　sprawled　fully　clothed　on　his　cot；　staring　at　the　sloped　ceiling。　There　were　bees　embroidered　on　the　inside　as　well；　on　a　false　roof　made　of　silk。　Hopwil　brought　a　steaming　pewter　mug　of　mulled　wine　…　Rand　had　left　his　servants　behind　…　but　the　wine　grew　cold　on　his　writing　table。　His　mind　worked　feverishly。　Two　or　three　more　days；　and　the　Seanchan　would　have　been　dealt　a　blow　that　knocked　them　on　their　heels。　Then　it　was　back　to　Cairhien　to　see　how　negotiations　with　the　Sea　Folk　had　gone；　to　learn　what　Cadsuane　was　after　…　he　owed　her　a　debt；　but　she　was　after　something！　…　maybe　to　put　a　final　end　to　what　remained　of　the　rebellion　there。　Had　Caraline　Damodred　and　Darlin　Sisnera　slipped　away　in　the　confusion？　The　High　Lord　Darlin　in　his　hands　might　finish　the　rebellion　in　Tear；　as　well。　Andor。　If　Mat　and　Elayne　were　in　Murandy；　the　way　it　appeared；　it　would　be　weeks　more　at　best　before　Elayne　could　claim　the　Lion　Throne。　Once　that　happened；　he　would　have　to　stay　clear　of　Caemlyn。　But　he　had　to　talk　to　Nynaeve。　Could　he　cleanse　saidin？　It　might　work。　It　might　destroy　the　world；　too。　Lews　Therin　gibbered　at　him　in　stark　terror。　Light；　where　was　Narishma？
　　　　　　　A　cemaros　storm　swept　in；　all　the　fiercer　this　near　the　sea。　Rain　beat　his　tent　like　a　drum。　Lightning　flashes　filled　the　entrance　with　blue…white　light；　and　thunder　rumbled；　the　sound　like　mountains　tumbling　across　the　land。
　　　　　　　Out　of　that；　Narishma　stepped　into　the　tent；　dripping　wet；　dark　hair　plastered　to　his　head。　His　orders　had　been　to　avoid　notice　at　all　cost。　No　flaunting　for　him。　His　sodden　coat　was　plain　brown；　and　his　dark　hair　was　tied　back；　not　braided。　Even　without　bells；　near　waist…length　hair　on　a　man　attracted　eyes。　He　wore　a　scowl；　too；　and　under　his　arm　he　carried　a　cylindrical　bundle　tied　with　cord；　fatter　than　a　man's　leg；　like　a　small　carpet。
　　　　　　　Springing　from　the　cot；　Rand　snatched　the　bundle　before　Narishma　could　proffer　it。　〃Did　anyone　see　you？〃　he　demanded。　〃What　took　you　so　long？　I　expected　you　last　night！〃
　　　　　　　〃It　took　a　while　to　figure　out　what　I　had　to　do；〃　Narishma　replied　in　a　flat　voice。　〃You　didn't　tell　me　everything。　You　nearly　killed　me。〃
　　　　　　　That　was　ridiculous。　Rand　had　told　him　everything　he　needed　to　know。　He　was　sure　of　it。　There　was　no　point　to　trusting　the　man　as　far　as　he　had；　only　to　have　him　die　and　ruin　everything。　Carefully　he　tucked　the　bundle　beneath　his　cot。　His　hands　trembled　with　the　urge　to　strip　the　wrappings　away；　to　make　sure　they　held　what　Narishma　had　been　sent　for。　The　man　would　not　have　dared　return　if　they　did　not。　〃Get　yourself　into　a　proper　coat　before　you　join　the　others；〃　he　said。　〃And　Narishma。。。　〃　Rand　straightened；　fixing　the　other　man　with　a　steady　gaze。　〃You　tell　anyone　about　this；　and　I　will　kill　you。〃
　　　　　　　Kill　the　whole　world；　Lews　Therin　laughed；　a　moan　of　derision。　Of　despair。　I　killed　the　world；　and　you　can；　too；　if　you　try　hard。
　　　　　　　Narishma　struck　himself　hard　on　the　chest　with　his　fist。　〃As　you　mand；　my　Lord　Dragon；〃　he　said　sourly。
　　　　　　　Bright　and　early　the　next　morning；　a　thousand　men　of　the　Legion　of　the　Dragon　marched　out　of　Illian；　across　the　Causeway　of　the　Northern　Star；　stepping　to　the　steady　beat　of　drums。　Well；　it　was　early；　anyway。　Thick　gray　clouds　roiled　across　the　sky；　and　a　stiff　sea　breeze　sharp　with　salt　whipped　cloaks　and　banners；　muttering　of　another　storm　on　the　way。　The　Legion　attracted　a　good　bit　of　attention　from　the　armsmen　already　in　the　camp；　with　their　blue…painted　Andoran　helmets　and　their　long　blue　coats　worked　on　the　chest　with　a　red…and…gold　Dragon。　A　blue　pennant　bearing　the　Dragon　and　a　number　marked　each　of　the　five　panies。　The　Legionmen　were　different　in　many　ways。　For　instance；　they　wore　breastplates；　but　beneath　their　coats；　so　as　not　to　hide　the　Dragons　…　the　same　reason　the　coats　buttoned　up　one　side　…　and　every　man　carried　a　short…sword　at　his　hip　and　a　steel…armed　crossbow；　every　one　shouldered　exactly　the　same　as　every　other。　The　officers　walked；　each　with　a　tall　red　plume　on　his　helmet；　just　ahead　of　drum　and　pennant。　The　only　horses　were　Morr's　mouse…colored　gelding；　at　their　head；　and　pack　animals　at　the　rear。
　　　　　　　〃Foot；〃　Weiramon　muttered；　slapping　his　reins　on　a　gauntleted　hand。　〃Burn　my　soul；　they're　no　good；　foot。　They'll　scatter　at　the　first　charge。　Before。〃　The　first　of　the　column　strode　off　the　causeway。　They　had　helped　take　Illian；　and　they　had　not　scattered。
　　　　　　　Semaradrid　shook　his　head。　〃No　pikes；〃　he　muttered。　〃I　have　seen　well…led　foot　hold；　with　pikes；　but　without。。。　〃　He　made　a　sound　of　disgust　in　his　throat。
　　　　　　　Gregorin　Panar；　the　third　man　sitting　his　saddle　near　Rand　to　watch　the　new　arrivals；　said　nothing。　Perhaps　he　had　no　prejudice　against　infantry　…　though　if　he　did　not；　he　would　be　one　of　only　a　handful　of　noblemen　Rand　had　met　without　it　…　but　he　tried　hard　not　to　frown　and　almost　succeeded。　Everyone　knew　by　now　that　the　men　with　the　Dragon　on　their　chests　bore　arms　because　they　had　chosen　to　follow　Rand；　chosen　to　follow　the　Dragon　Reborn；　for　no　other　reason　than　that　they　wanted　to。　The　Illianer　had　to　be　wondering　where　they　were　going　that　Rand　wanted　the　Legion　and　the　Council　of　Nine　was　not　trusted　to　know。　For　that　matter；　Semaradrid　eyed　Rand　sideways。　Only　Weiramon　was　too　stupid　to　think。
　　　　　　　Rand　turned　Tai'daishar　away。　Narishma's　package　had　been　rewrapped；　into　a　thinner　bundle；　and　tied　beneath　his　left　stirrup　leather。　〃Strike　the　camp；　we're　moving；〃　he　told　the　three　nobles。
　　　　　　　This　time；　he　let　Dashiva　weave　the　gateway　to　take　them　all　away。　The　plain…faced　fellow　frowned　at　him　and　mumbled　to　himself　…　Dashiva　actually　seemed　affronted；　for　some　reason！　…　and　Gedwyn　and　Rochaid；　their　horses　shoulder…by…shoulder；　watched　with　sardonic　smiles　as　the　silvery　slash　of　light　rotated　into　a　hole　in　nothing。　Watched　Rand　more　than　Dashiva。　Well；　let　them　watch。　How　often　could　he　seize　saidin　and　risk　falling　dizzily　on　his　face　before　he　really　did　fall？　It　could　not　be　where　they　could　see。
　　　　　　　This　time；　the　gateway　took　them　to　a　wide　road　carved　through　the　low；　brushy　foothills　of　mountains　to　the　west。　The　Nemarellin　Mountains。　Not　the　equals　of　the　Mountain　of　Mist；　and　not　a　patch　on　the　Spine　of　the　World；　but　they　rose　dark　and　severe　against　the　sky；　sharp　peaks　that　walled　the　west　coast　of　Illian。　Beyond　them　lay　Kabal　Deep；　and　beyond　that。。。
　　　　　　　Men　began　to　recognize　the　peaks　soon　enough。　Gregorin　Panar　took　one　look　around　and　nodded　in　sudden　satisfaction。　The　other　three　Councilors　and　Marcolin　reined　close　to　him　to　talk　while　horsemen　were　still　pouring　through　the　gateway。　Semaradrid　required　only　a　bit　longer　to　puzzle　it　out；　and　Tihera；　and　they　also　looked　as　if　they　understood　now。
　　　　　　　The　Silver　Road　ran　from　the　City　to　Lugard；　and　carried　all　of　the　inland　trade　for　the　west。　There　was　a　Gold　Road；　too；　that　led　to　Far　Madding。　Roads　and　names　alike　dated　from　before　there　had　been　an　Illian。　Centuries　of　wagon　wheels；　hooves　and　boots　had　beaten　them　hard；　and　the　cemaros　could　only　skim　them　with　mud。　They　were　among　the　few　reliable　highways　in　Illian　for　moving　large　groups　of　men　in　winter。　Everyone　knew　about　the　Seanchan　in　Ebou　Dar　by　this　time；　though　a　good　many　of　the　tales　Rand　had　heard　among　the　armsmen　made　the　invaders　seem　Trollocs'　meaner　cousins。　If　the　Seanchan　intended　to　strike　into　Illian；　the　Silver　Road　was　a　good　place　to　gather　for　defense。
　　　　　　　Semaradrid　and　the　others　thought　they　knew　what　he　planned：　he　must　have　learned　that　the　Seanchan　were　ing；　and　the　Asha'man　were　there　to　destroy　them　when　they　did。　Given　the　stories　about　the　Seanchan；　no　one　seemed　too　upset　that　that　left　little　for　them　to　do。　Of　course；　Weiramon　had　to　have　it　explained　to　him　finally；　by　Tihera；　and　he　was　upset；　though　he　tried　to　mask　it　behind　a　grand　speech　about　the　wisdom　of　the　Lord　Dragon　and　the　military　genius　of　the　Lord　of　the　Morning；　along　with　how　he；　personally；　would　lead　the　first　charge　against　these　Seanchan。　A　pure　bull…goose　fool。　With　luck；　anyone　else　who　learned　of　a　gathering　on　the　Silver　Road　would　at　least　not　be　too　much　brighter　than　Semaradrid　or　Gregorin。　With　luck；　no　one　who　mattered