rj.thepathofdaggers-第98部分

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　he　looked　at　Ailil　and　Anaiyella　…　he　did　not　like　them　remaining　close　to　Rand；　especially　his　countrywoman　…　so　perhaps　his　sourness　had　more　root　than　Weiramon's　windiness。
　　　　　　　〃About　ten　miles　from　us；〃　Rand　said　loudly；　〃a　good　fifty　thousand　men　are　preparing　to　march。〃　They　were　aware　of　that；　but　it　pulled　every　eye　to　him　and　silenced　every　tongue。　Weiramon's　mouth　snapped　shut　sourly；　the　fellow　did　love　to　hear　himself　talk。　Gueyam　and　Maraconn；　tugging　at　sharp　oiled　beards；　smiled　in　anticipation；　the　fools。　Semaradrid　looked　like　a　man　who　had　eaten　an　entire　bowl　of　bad　plums；　Gregorin　and　the　three　lords　of　the　Nine　with　him　merely　wore　grim　determination　on　their　faces。　Not　fools。　〃The　scouts　saw　no　signs　of　sul'dam　or　damane；〃　Rand　went　on；　〃but　even　without　them；　even　with　Asha'man；　that's　enough　to　kill　a　lot　of　us　if　anybody　forgets　the　plan。　No　one　will　forget；　though；　I'm　sure。〃　No　charges　without　orders；　this　time。　He　had　made　that　clear　as　glass；　and　hard　as　stone。　No　haring　off　because　you　thought　maybe　you　just　might　have　seen　something；　either。
　　　　　　　Weiramon　smiled；　managing　to　put　as　much　oil　into　it　as　Sunamon　ever　could。
　　　　　　　It　was　a　simple　plan；　in　its　way。　They　would　advance　west　in　five　columns；　each　with　Asha'man；　and　attempt　to　fall　on　the　Seanchan　from　every　side　at　once。　Or　as　close　to　all　sides　as　could　be　managed。　Simple　plans　were　best；　Bashere　insisted。　If　you　won't　be　satisfied　with　a　whole　litter　of　fat　piglets；　he　had　muttered；　if　you　have　to　rush　into　the　woods　to　find　the　old　sow；　then　don't　get　too　fancy；　or　she'll　gut　you。
　　　　　　　No　plan　of　battle　survives　first　contact；　Lews　Therin　said　in　Rand's　head。　For　a　moment；　he　still　seemed　lucid。　For　a　moment。　Something　is　wrong；　he　growled　suddenly。　His　voice　began　to　gain　intensity；　and　drift　into　wild　disbelieving　laughter。　It　can't　be　wrong；　but　it　is。　Something　strange；　something　wrong；　skittering；　jumping；　twitching。　His　cackles　turned　to　weeping。　It　can't　be！　I　must　be　mad！　And　he　vanished　before　Rand　could　mute　him。　Burn　him；　there　was　nothing　wrong　with　the　plan；　or　Bashere　would　have　been　on　it　like　a　duck　on　a　beetle。
　　　　　　　Lews　Therin　was　mad；　no　doubt　of　it。　But　so　long　as　Rand　al'Thor　remained　sane。。。　A　bitter　joke　on　the　world；　if　the　Dragon　Reborn　went　mad　before　the　Last　Battle　even　began。　〃Take　your　places；〃　he　manded　with　a　wave　of　the　Dragon　Scepter。　He　had　to　fight　down　the　urge　to　laugh　at　that　joke。
　　　　　　　The　large　clump　of　nobles　broke　apart　at　his　order；　milling　and　muttering　as　they　sorted　themselves　out。　Few　liked　the　way　Rand　had　divided　them　up。　Whatever　breaking　down　of　barriers　had　occurred　in　the　shock　of　the　first　fight　in　the　mountains；　they　had　sprung　up　again　almost　immediately。
　　　　　　　Weiramon　frowned　over　his　undelivered　speech；　but　after　an　elaborate　bow　that　thrust　his　beard　at　Rand　like　a　spear　he　rode　north　over　the　hills　followed　by　Kiril　Drapeneos；　Bertome；　Doressin；　and　several　minor　Cairhienin　lords；　every　last　one　of　them　stony…faced　at　a　Tairen　being　placed　over　them。　Gedwyn　rode　by　Weiramon's　side　almost　as　if　he　were　the　one　leading；　and　got　dark　scowls　for　it　that　he　affected　not　to　notice。　The　other　groupings　were　as　mixed。　Gregorin　also　headed　north；　with　a　sullen　Sunamon　trying　to　pretend　he　was　heading　in　the　same　direction　by　happenstance；　and　Dalthanes　leading　lesser　Cairhienin　behind。　Jeordwyn　Semaris；　another　of　the　Nine；　followed　Bashere　south　with　Amondrid　and　Gueyam。　Those　three　had　accepted　the　Saldaean　almost　eagerly　for　the　simple　reason　that　he　was　not　Tairen；　or　Cairhienin；　or　Illianer；　depending　on　the　man。　Rochaid　seemed　to　be　trying　the　same　with　Bashere　that　Gedwyn　was　with　Weiramon；　but　Bashere　appeared　to　ignore　it。　A　little　way　from　Bashere's　party；　Torean　and　Maraconn　rode　with　their　heads　together；　likely　venting　spleen　at　having　Semaradrid　placed　over　them。　For　that　matter；　Ershin　Netari　kept　glancing　toward　Jeordwyn；　and　standing　in　his　stirrups　to　look　back　toward　Gregorin　and　Kiril；　though　it　was　improbable　he　could　see　them　any　longer　past　the　hills。　Semaradrid；　his　back　iron…rod　straight；　looked　as　unflappable　as　Bashere。
　　　　　　　It　was　the　same　principle　Rand　had　used　all　along。　He　trusted　Bashere；　and　he　thought　he　might　be　able　to　trust　Gregorin；　and　none　of　the　others　could　dare　think　of　turning　against　him　with　so　many　outlanders　around　him；　so　many　old　enemies　and　so　few　friends。　Rand　laughed　softly；　watching　them　all　ride　off　from　his　hillside。　They　would　fight　for　him；　and　fight　well；　because　they　had　no　other　choice。　Any　more　than　he　had。
　　　　　　　Madness；　Lews　Therin　hissed。　Rand　shoved　the　voice　away　angrily。
　　　　　　　He　was　hardly　alone；　of　course。　Tihera　and　Marcolin　had　most　of　the　Defenders　and　panions　mounted　in　ranks　among　the　olive　trees　on　hills　flanking　the　one　where　he　sat　his　horse。　The　rest　were　out　as　a　screen　against　surprise。　A　pany　of　blue…coated　Legionmen　waited　patiently　in　the　hollow　below　under　Masond's　eye；　and　at　their　rear；　as　many　men　in　what　they　had　worn　surrendering　on　the　heath　back　in　Illian。　They　were　trying　to　emulate　the　Legionmen's　calm　…　the　other　Legionmen；　now　…　trying　without　a　great　deal　of　success。
　　　　　　　Rand　glanced　at　Ailil　and　Anaiyella。　The　Tairen　woman　gave　him　a　simpering　smile；　but　it　faltered　weakly。　The　Cairhienin　woman's　face　was　frost。　He　could　not　forget　them；　or　Denharad　and　their　armsmen。　His　column；　in　the　center；　would　be　the　largest；　and　the　strongest　by　a　fair　margin。　A　very　fair　margin。
　　　　　　　Flinn　and　the　men　Rand　had　chosen　out　after　Dumai's　Wells　rode　up　the　hill　toward　him。　The　balding　old　man　always　led；　though　all　save　Adley　and　Narishma　now　wore　the　Dragon　as　well　as　the　Sword；　and　Dashiva　had　worn　it　first。　In　part　it　was　because　the　younger　men　deferred　to　Flinn；　with　his　long　experience　as　a　bannerman　in　the　Andoran　Queen's　Guards。　In　part　it　was　because　Dashiva　did　not　seem　to　care。　He　only　appeared　amused　by　the　others。　When　he　could　spare　time　from　talking　to　himself；　that　was。　Most　often；　he　hardly　seemed　aware　of　anything　past　his　own　nose。
　　　　　　　For　that　reason；　it　was　something　of　a　shock　when　Dashiva　awkwardly　booted　his　slab…sided　mount　ahead　of　the　rest。　That　plain　face；　so　often　vague　or　bemused　with　the　fellow's　own　thoughts；　was　fixed　in　a　worried　frown。　It　was　more　than　something　of　a　shock　when　he　seized　saidin　as　soon　as　he　reached　Rand　and　wove　a　barrier　around　them　against　eavesdropping。　Lews　Therin　did　not　waste　breath　…　if　a　disembodied　voice　had　breath　…　on　mutters　about　killing；　he　lurched　for　the　Source　snarling　wordlessly；　tried　to　claw　the　Power　away　from　Rand。　And　just　as　abruptly　fell　silent　and　vanished。
　　　　　　　〃There's　something　askew　with　saidin　here；　something　amiss；〃　Dashiva　said；　sounding　not　at　all　vague。　In　fact；　he　sounded。。。　precise。　And　testy。　A　teacher　lecturing　a　particularly　dense　pupil。　He　even　stabbed　a　finger　at　Rand。　〃I　don't　know　what　it　is。　Nothing　can　twist　saidin；　and　if　it　could　be　twisted；　we'd　have　felt　it　back　in　the　mountains。　Well；　there　was　something　there；　yesterday；　but　so　small。。。　I　feel　it　clearly　here；　though。　Saidin　is。。。　eager。　I　know；　I　know。　Saidin　is　not　alive。　But　it。。。　pulses；　here。　It　is　difficult　to　control。〃
　　　　　　　Rand　forced　his　hand　to　loosen　its　grip　on　the　Dragon　Scepter。　He　had　always　been　sure　Dashiva　was　nearly　as　mad　as　Lews　Therin　himself。　Usually　the　man　maintained　a　better　hold　on　himself；　though；　however　precariously。　〃I've　been　channeling　longer　than　you；　Dashiva。　You're　just　feeling　the　taint　more。〃　He　could　not　soften　his　tone。　Light；　he　could　not　go　mad　yet；　and　neither　could　they！　〃Get　to　your　place。　We'll　be　moving　soon。〃　The　scouts　had　to　return　soon。　Even　in　this　flatter　country；　even　limited　to　no　further　than　they　could　see；　ten　miles　would　not　take　long　to　cover；　Traveling。
　　　　　　　Dashiva　made　no　move　to　obey。　Instead；　he　opened　his　mouth　angrily；　then　snapped　it　shut。　Shaking　visibly；　he　drew　a　deep　breath。　〃I　am　well　aware　how　long　you　have　channeled；〃　he　said　in　an　icy；　almost　contemptuous　voice；　〃but　surely　even　you　can　feel　it。　Feel；　man！　I　don't　like　'strange'　applied　to　saidin；　and　I　don't　want　to　die　or。。。　or　be　burned　out　because　you're　blind！　Look　at　my　ward！　Look　at　it！〃
　　　　　　　Rand　stared。　Dashiva　pushing　himself　forward　was　peculiar　enough；　but　Dashiva　in　a　temper？　And　then　he　did　look　at　the　ward。　Really　look。　The　flows　should　have　been　as　steady　as　the　threads　in　tight…woven　canvas。　They　vibrated。　The　ward　stood　solid　as　it　should　be；　but　the　individual　threads　of　the　Power　shimmered　with　faint　movement。　Morr　had　said　saidin　was　strange　near　Ebou　Dar；　and　for　a　hundred　miles　around。　They　were　closer　than　a　hundred　miles；　now。
　　　　　　　Rand　made　himself　feel　saidin。　He　was　always　aware　of　the　Power　…　anything　else　meant　death　or　worse　…　yet　he　had　bee　used　to　the　struggle。　He　fought　for　life；　but　the　fight　had　bee　as　natural　as　life。　The　struggle　was　life。　He　made　himself　feel　that　battle；　his　life。　Cold　to　make　stone　shatter　into　dust。　Fire　to　make　stone　flash　to　vapor。　Filth　to　make　a　rotten　cesspit　smell　a　garden　in　full　flower。　And。。。　a　pulsing；　like　something　quivering　in　his　fist。　This　was　not　the　sort　of　throbbing　he　had　felt　in　Shadar　Logoth；　when　the　taint　on　saidin　had　resonated　with　the　evil　of　that　place；　and　saidin　had　pulsed　with　it。　The　vileness　was　strong；　but　steady　here。　It　was　saidin　itself　that　seemed　full　of　currents　and　surges。　Eager；　Dashiva　called　it；　and　Rand　could　see　why。
　　　　　　　Down　the　slope；　behind　Flinn；　Morr　scrubbed　a　hand　through　his　hair　and　looked　around　uneasily。　Flinn　alternated　shifting　on　his　saddle　and　easing　his　sword　in　its　scabbard。　Narishma；　watching　the　sky　for　flying　creatures；　blinked　too　often。　A　muscle　twitched　in　Adley's　cheek。　Every　one　of　them　displayed　some　sign　of　nervousness；　and　little　wonder。　Relief　welled　up　in　Rand。　Not　madness　after　all。
　　　　　　　Dashiva　smiled；　a　twisted　self…satisfied　smile。　〃I　cannot　believe　you　didn't　notice　before。〃　There　was　very　close　to　a　sneer　in　his　voice。　〃You've　been　holding　saidin　practically　day　and　night　since　we　began　this　mad　expedition。　This　is　a　simple　ward；　but　it　did　not　want　to　form；　then　it　snapped　together　like　pulling　out　of　my　hands。〃
　　　　　　　The　silver…blue　s