sk.thewastelands-第1部分

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　　And　the　dead　tree　gives　no　shelter；　the　cricket　no　relief；
　　And　the　dry　stone　no　sound　of　water。　Only
　　There　is　shadow　under　this　red　rock；
　　（e　in　under　the　shadow　of　this　red　rock）；
　　And　I　will　show　you　something　different　from　either
　　Your　shadow　in　the　morning　striding　behind　you
　　Or　your　shadow　at　evening　rising　to　meet　you；
　　I　will　show　you　fear　in　a　handful　of　dust。
　　…T。　S。　ELIOT　〃The　Waste　Land〃
　　
　　If　there　pushed　any　ragged　thistle…stalk
　　Above　its　mates；　the　head　was　chopped；　the　bents
　　Were　jealous　else。　What　made　those　holes　and　rents
　　In　the　dock's　harsh　swarth　leaves；　bruised　as　to　balk
　　All　hope　of　greenness？　'tis　a　brute　must　walk
　　Pashing　their　life　out；　with　a　brute's　intents。
　　…ROBERT　BROWNING　〃Childe　Roland　to　the　Dark　Tower　Came〃
　　
　　〃What　river　is　it？〃　enquired　Millicent　idly。
　　〃It's　only　a　stream。　Well；　perhaps　a　little　more　than　that。
　　It's　called　the　Waste。〃
　　〃Is　it　really？〃
　　〃Yes；〃　said　Winifred；　〃it　is。〃
　　…ROBERT　AICKMAN　〃Hand　in　Glove〃
　　
　　
　　　BOOK　ONE
　　　JAKE　FEAR　IN　A　HANDFUL　OF　DUST
　　
　　　I　
　　　BEAR　AND　BONE
　　　
　　　1
　　IT　WAS　HER　THIRD　time　with　live　ammunition　。　。　。　and　her　first　time　on　the　draw　from　the　holster　Roland　had　rigged　for　her。
　　They　had　plenty　of　live　rounds；　Roland　had　brought　back　better　than　three　hundred　from　the　world　where　Eddie　and　Susannah　Dean　had　lived　their　lives　up　until　the　time　of　their　drawing。　But　having　ammu…nition　in　plenty　did　not　mean　it　could　be　wasted；　quite　the　contrary；　in　fact。　The　gods　frowned　upon　wastrels。　Roland　had　been　raised；　first　by　his　father　and　then　by　Cort；　his　greatest　teacher；　to　believe　this；　and　so　he　still　believed。　Those　gods　might　not　punish　at　once；　but　sooner　or　later　the　penance　would　have　to　be　paid　。　。　。　and　the　longer　the　wait；　the　greater　the　weight。
　　At　first　there　had　been　no　need　for　live　ammunition；　anyway。　Roland　had　been　shooting　for　more　years　than　the　beautiful　brown…skinned　woman　in　the　wheelchair　would　believe。　He　had　corrected　her　at　first　simply　by　watching　her　aim　and　dry…fire　at　the　targets　he　had　set　up。　She　learned　fast。　Both　she　and　Eddie　learned　fast。
　　As　he　had　suspected；　both　were　born　gunslingers。
　　Today　Roland　and　Susannah　had　e　to　a　clearing　less　than　a　mile　from　the　camp　in　the　woods　which　had　been　home　to　them　for　almost　two　months　now。　The　days　had　passed　with　their　own　sweet　similarity。　The　gunslinger's　body　healed　itself　while　Eddie　and　Susannah　learned　the　things　the　gunslinger　had　to　teach　them：　how　to　shoot；　to　hunt；　to　gut　and　clean　what　they　had　killed；　how　to　first　stretch；　then　tan　and　cure　the　hides　of　those　kills；　how　to　use　as　much　as　it　was　possible　to　use　so　that　no　part　of　the　animal　was　wasted；　how　to　find　north　by　Old　Star　or　south　by　Old　Mother；　how　to　listen　to　the　forest　in　which　they　now　found　themselves；　sixty　miles　or　more　northeast　of　the　Western　Sea。　Today　Eddie　had　stayed　behind；　and　the　gunslinger　was　not　put　out　of　countenance　by　this。　The　lessons　which　are　remembered　the　longest；　Roland　knew；　are　always　the　ones　that　are　self…taught。
　　But　what　had　always　been　the　most　important　lesson　was　still　most　important：　how　to　shoot　and　how　to　hit　what　you　shot　at　every　time。　How　to　kill。
　　The　edges　of　this　clearing　had　been　formed　by　dark；　sweet…smelling　fir　trees　that　curved　around　it　in　a　ragged　semicircle。　To　the　south；　the　ground　broke　off　and　dropped　three　hundred　feet　in　a　series　of　crumbling　shale　ledges　and　fractured　cliffs；　like　a　giant's　set　of　stairs。　A　clear　stream　ran　out　of　the　woods　and　across　the　center　of　the　clearing；　first　bubbling　through　a　deep　channel　in　the　spongy　earth　and　friable　stone；　then　pour…ing　across　the　splintery　rock　floor　which　sloped　down　to　the　place　where　the　land　dropped　away。
　　The　water　descended　the　steps　in　a　series　of　waterfalls　and　made　any　number　of　pretty；　wavering　rainbows。　Beyond　the　edge　of　the　drop…off　was　a　magnificent　deep　valley；　choked　with　more　firs　and　a　few　great　old　elm　trees　which　refused　to　be　crowded　out。　These　latter　towered　green　and　lush；　trees　which　might　have　been　old　when　the　land　from　which　Roland　had　e　was　yet　young；　he　could　see　no　sign　that　the　valley　had　ever　burned；　although　he　supposed　it　must　have　drawn　light…ning　at　some　time　or　other。　Nor　would　lightning　have　been　the　only　danger。　There　had　been　people　in　this　forest　in　some　distant　time；　Roland　had　e　across　their　leavings　on　several　occasions　over　the　past　weeks。　They　were　primitive　artifacts；　for　the　most　part；　but　they　included　shards　of　pottery　which　could　only　have　been　cast　in　fire。　And　fire　was　evil　stuff　that　delighted　in　escaping　the　hands　which　created　it。
　　Above　this　picturebook　scene　arched　a　blameless　blue　sky　in　which　a　few　crows　circled　some　miles　off；　crying　in　their　old；　rusty　voices。　They　seemed　restless；　as　if　a　storm　were　on　the　way；　but　Roland　had　sniffed　the　air　and　there　was　no　rain　in　it。
　　A　boulder　stood　to　the　left　of　the　stream。　Roland　had　set　up　six　chips　of　stone　on　top　of　it。　Each　one　was　heavily　flecked　with　mica；　and　they　glittered　like　lenses　in　the　warm　afternoon　light。
　　〃Last　chance；〃　the　gunslinger　said。　〃If　that　holster's　unfortable…even　tin…　slightest　bit…tell　me　now。　We　didn't　e　here　to　waste　ammunition。〃
　　She　cocked　a　sardonic　eye　at　him；　und　for　a　moment　he　could　see　Detta　Walker　in　there。　It　was　like　ha/y　sunlight　winking　off　a　bar　of　steel。　〃What　would　you　do　if　it　was　unfortable　and　I　didn't　tell　you？　If　I　missed　all　six　of　those　itty　bitty　things？　Whop　me　upside　the　head　like　that　old　teacher　of　yours　used　to　do？〃
　　The　gunslinger　smiled。　He　had　done　more　smiling　these　last　five　weeks　than　he　had　done　in　the　five　years　which　had　e　before　them。　〃I　can't　do　that；　and　you　know　it。　We　were　children；　for　one　thing…children　who　hadn't　been　through　our　rites　of　manhood　yet。　You　may　slap　a　child　to　correct　him；　or　her；　but…〃
　　〃In　my　world；　whoppin'　the　kiddies　is　also　frowned　on　by　the　better　class　of　people；〃　Susannah　said　dryly。
　　Roland　shrugged。　It　was　hard　for　him　to　imagine　that　sort　of　world…did　not　the　Great　Book　say　〃Spare　not　the　birch　so　you　spoil　not　the　child〃？…but　he　didn't　believe　Susannah　was　lying。　〃Your　world　has　not　moved　on；〃　he　said。　〃Many　things　are　different　there。　Did　I　not　see　for　myself　that　it　is　so？〃
　　〃I　guess　you　did。〃
　　〃In　any　case；　you　and　Eddie　are　not　children。　It　would　be　wrong　for　me　to　treat　you　as　if　you　were。　And　if　tests　were　needed；　you　both　passed　them。〃
　　Although　he　did　not　say　so；　he　was　thinking　of　how　it　had　ended　on　the　beach；　when　she　had　blown　three　of　the　lumbering　lobstrosities　to　hell　before　they　could　peel　him　and　Eddie　to　the　bone。　He　saw　her　answering　smile　and　thought　she　might　be　remembering　the　same　thing。
　　〃So　what　you　goan　do　if　I　shoot　fo'　shit？〃
　　〃I'll　look　at　you。　I　think　that's　all　I'll　need　to　do。〃
　　She　thought　this　over；　then　nodded。　〃Might　be。〃
　　She　tested　the　gunbelt　again。　It　was　slung　across　her　bosom　almost　like　a　shoulder…holster　（an　arrangement　Roland　thought　of　as　a　docker's　clutch）　and　looked　simple　enough；　but　it　had　taken　many　weeks　of　trial　and　error…and　a　great　deal　of　tailoring…to　get　it　just　right。　The　belt　and　the　revolver　which　cocked　its　eroded　sandalwood　grip　out　of　the　ancient　oiled　holster　had　once　been　the　gunslinger's；　the　holster　had　hung　on　his　right　hip。　He　had　spent　much　of　the　last　five　weeks　ing　to　realize　it　was　never　going　to　hang　there　again。　Thanks　to　the　lobstrosi…ties；　he　was　strictly　a　lefthanded　gun　now。
　　〃So　how　is　it？〃　he　asked　again。
　　This　time　she　laughed　up　at　him。　〃Roland；　this　ole　gunbelt's　as　'fable　as　it's　ever　gonna　be。　Now　do。　you　want　me　to　shoot　or　are　we　just　going　to　sit　and　listen　to　crowmusic　from　over　yonder？〃
　　He　felt　tension　worming　sharp　little　fingers　under　his　skin　now；　and　he　supposed　Cort　had　felt　much　the　same　at　times　like　this　under　his　gruff；　bluff　exterior。　I　le　wanted　her　to　be　good　。。。　needed　her　to　be　good。　But　to　show　how　badly　he　wanted　and　needed…that　could　lead　to　disaster。
　　〃Tell　me　your　lesson　again；　Susannah。〃
　　She　sighed　in　mock　exasperation　。　。　。　but　as　she　spoke　her　smile　faded　and　her　dark；　beautiful　face　became　solemn。　And　from　her　lips　he　heard　the　old　catechism　again；　made　new　in　her　mouth。　He　had　never　expected　to　hear　these　words　from　a　woman。　How　natural　they　sounded　。　。　。　yet　how　strange　and　dangerous；　as　well。
　　〃　'I　do　not　aim　with　my　hand；　she　who　aims　with　her　hand　has　forgotten　the　face　of　her　father。
　　〃　'I　aim　with　my　eye。
　　〃　'I　do　not　shoot　with　my　hand；　she　who　shoots　with　her　hand　has　forgotten　the　face　of　her　father。
　　〃　'I　shoot　with　my　mind。
　　〃　'I　do　not　kill　with　my　gun…'　〃
　　She　broke　off　and　pointed　at　the　mica…shiny　stones　on　the　boulder。
　　〃I'm　not　going　to　kill　anything　anyhow…they're　just　itty　bitty　rocks。〃
　　Her　expression…a　little　haughty；　a　little　naughty…suggested　that　she　expected　Roland　to　be　exasperated　with　her；　perhaps　even　angry。　Roland；　however；　had　been　where　she　was　now；　he　had　not　forgotten　that　apprentice　gunslingers　were　fractious　and　high…spirited；　nervy　and　apt　to　bite　exactly　at　the　wrong　moment　。　。　。　and　he　had　discovered　an　unexpected　capacity　in　himself。　He　could　teach。　More；　he　liked　to　teach；　and　he　found　himself　wondering；　from　time　to　time；　if　that　had　been　true　of　Cort；　as　well。　He　guessed　that　it　had　been。
　　Now　more　crows　began　to　call　raucously；　these　from　the　forest　behind　them。　Some　part　of　Roland's　mind　registered　the　fact　that　the　new　cries　were　agitated　rather　than　merely　quarrelsome；　these　birds　sounded　as　if　they　had　been　scared　up　and　away　from　whatever　they　had　been　feeding　on。　He　had　more　important　things　to　think　about　than　whatever　it　was　that　had　scared　a　bunch　of　crows；　however；　so　he　simply　filed　the　information　away　and　refocused　his　concentration　on　Susannah。　To　do　otherwise　with　a　'prentice　was　to　ask　for　a　second；　less　playful　bite。　And　who　would　be　to　blame　for　that？　Who　but　the　teacher？　For　was　he　not　training　her　to　bite？　Training　both　of　them　to　bite？　Wasn't　that　what　a　gunslinger　was；　when　you　stripped　off　the　few　stern　lines　of　ritual　and　stilled　the　few　iron　grace…notes　of　cat