rj.acrownofswords-第68部分

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r　slippered　foot　as　if　impatient　to　be　done。　She　had　been　ordered　to　obey　him　absolutely；　by　one　even　Old　Cully　would　grovel　for；　and　besides；　he　had　a　desperate　need　of　success。　Niall's　schemes　could　go　to　dust；　but　not　this。
　　　〃Many　things　can　be　excused；〃　he　said；　laying　the　pen　on　its　ivory　stand　and　shoving　back　his　chair；　〃for　those　who　acplish　the　tasks　they　are　given。〃　He　was　a　tall　man；　and　he　loomed　threateningly。　He　was　well　aware　that　the　gilt…framed　mirrors　on　the　wall　showed　a　figure　of　strength；　a　dangerous　man。　〃Even　dresses　and　baubles　and　gambling；　paid　for　with　coin　that　was　to　go　for　information。〃　That　twitching　foot　froze　for　instant；　then　began　again；　but　her　smile　was　forced；　her　face　pale。　Her　circle　obeyed　her　instantly；　but　they　would　string　her　up　by　the　heels　and　skin　her　alive　if　he　spoke　the　word。　〃You　have　not　acplished　very　much；　have　you？　In　fact；　you　do　not　seem　to　have　acplished　anything。〃
　　　〃There　are　difficulties；　as　you　well　know；〃　she　said　breathily。　She　managed　to　meet　his　eyes　squarely；　though。
　　　〃Excuses。　Tell　me　of　difficulties　surmounted；　not　those　you　stumble　over　and　fall。　You　can　fall　a　long　way　if　you　fail　in　this。〃　Turning　his　back；　he　strode　to　the　nearest　window。　He　could　fall　a　long　way；　too；　and　he　did　not　want　to　risk　her　seeing　anything　in　his　eyes。　Sunlight　slanted　through　the　ornate　stone　screen。　The　high…ceilinged　room；　with　its　green…and…white…tiled　floor　and　bright　blue　walls；　stayed　paratively　cool　behind　the　thick　walls　of　the　palace；　but　the　heat　outside　seeped　in　near　the　windows。　He　could　almost　feel　the　brandy　across　the　room。　He　could　not　wait　for　her　to　be　gone。
　　　〃My　Lord　Carridin；　how　can　I　have　anyone　ask　too　openly　about　objects　of　the　Power？　That　will　cause　questions；　and　there　are　Aes　Sedai　in　the　city；　you　will　recall。〃
　　　Peering　down　at　the　street　through　the　scroll…carvings；　he　wrinkled　his　nose　at　the　smell。　Every　sort　was　jammed　together　down　there。　An　Arafellin　with　his　hair　in　two　long　braids　and　a　curved　sword　on　his　back　tossed　a　coin　to　a　one…armed　beggar；　who　scowled　at　the　gift　before　tucking　it　under　his　rags　and　resuming　his　piteous　cries　to　the　passersby。　A　fellow　in　a　torn；　bright　red　coat　and　even　brighter　yellow　breeches　came　running　from　a　shop　clutching　a　bolt　of　cloth　to　his　chest；　pursued　by　a　shouting　pale…haired　woman　who　had　her　skirts　pulled　above　her　knees　and　was　outpacing　the　burly　guard　who　lumbered　behind　her　waving　his　truncheon。　The　driver　of　a　red…lacquered　coach　with　the　moneylenders'　gold　coins　and　open　hand　on　the　door　shook　his　whip　at　the　driver　of　a　canvas…covered　wagon　whose　team　had　bee　entangled　with　the　coach's；　the　man　filling　the　street　with　curses。　Grimy　street　urchins　crouched　behind　a　dilapidated　cart　while　they　snatched　puny；　shriveled　fruit　brought　in　from　the　country。　A　Taraboner　woman　pushed　her　way　through　the　crowd；　veiled；　her　dark　hair　in　thin　braids；　drawing　every　male　eye　in　her　dusty　red　dress　that　shaped　itself　to　her　form　shamelessly。
　　　〃My　Lord；　I　must　have　time。　I　must！　I　cannot　do　the　impossible；　certainly　not　in　days。〃
　　　Trash；　all　of　them。　Grubbers　for　gold　and　Hunters　for　the　Horn；　thieves；　refugees；　even　Tinkers。　Scum。　Riots　would　be　easy　to　start；　a　purge　for　all　this　filth。　Outlanders　were　always　the　first　targets；　always　to　blame　for　whatever　was　wrong；　along　with　neighbors　who　had　the　misfortune　to　be　on　the　wrong　side　of　grudges；　women　who　peddled　herbs　and　cures；　and　folk　with　no　friends；　especially　if　they　lived　alone。　Properly　guided；　as　carefully　as　such　things　could　be；　a　good　riot　might　well　burn　the　Tarasin　Palace　down　around　that　useless　jade　Tylin　and　the　witches　as　well。　He　glared　at　the　swarm　below。　Riots　did　tend　to　get　out　of　hand；　the　Civil　Guard　might　stir　itself；　and　inevitably　a　handful　of　true　Friends　would　be　snapped　up。　He　could　not　afford　the　chance　that　some　of　those　might　be　from　the　circles　he　had　hunting。　For　that　matter；　even　a　few　days　of　rioting　would　disrupt　their　work。　Tylin　was　not　important　enough　for　that；　she　did　not　matter　at　all；　in　truth。　No；　not　yet。　Niall；　he　could　afford　to　disappoint；　but　not　his　true　master。
　　　〃My　Lord　Carridin。。。〃　A　note　of　defiance　had　entered　Shiaine's　voice。　He　had　let　her　stew　too　long。　〃My　Lord　Carridin；　some　of　my　circle　question　why　we　are　looking　for。。。　〃
　　　He　started　to　turn；　to　put　her　down　hard　…　he　needed　success；　not　excuses；　not　questions！　…　but　her　voice　dwindled　to　nothing　as　his　eyes　fell　on　a　young　man　standing　diagonally　across　the　street；　in　a　blue　coat　with　enough　red…and…gold　embroidery　on　the　sleeves　and　lapels　for　two　nobles。　Taller　than　most；　he　was　fanning　himself　with　a　broad…brimmed　black　hat　and　adjusting　his　neck　scarf　as　he　spoke　to　a　stooped；　white…haired　man。　Carridin　recognized　the　young　man。
　　　Suddenly　he　felt　as　though　a　knotted　rope　had　been　fastened　around　his　head　and　was　being　drawn　ever　tighter。　For　an　instant　a　face　hidden　behind　a　red　mask　filled　his　vision。　Night…dark　eyes　stared　at　him；　and　then　were　endless　caverns　of　flame；　and　still　staring。　Within　his　head；　the　world　exploded　in　fire；　cascading　images　that　battered　him　and　swept　him　beyond　screaming。　The　forms　of　three　young　men　stood　unsupported　in　air；　and　one　of　them　began　to　glow；　the　form　of　the　man　in　the　street；　brighter　and　brighter　till　it　must　have　seared　any　living　eyes　to　ash；　brighter　still；　burning。　A　curled　golden　horn　sped　toward　him；　its　cry　pulling　his　soul；　then　flashed　into　a　ring　of　golden　light；　swallowing　him；　chilling　him　until　the　last　fragment　of　him　that　recalled　his　name　was　sure　his　bones　must　splinter。　A　ruby…tipped　dagger　hurdled　straight　at　him；　curved　blade　striking　him　between　the　eyes　and　sinking　in；　in；　until　gold…wrapped　hilt　and　all　was　gone；　and　he　knew　agony　that　washed　away　all　thought　that　what　had　gone　before　was　pain。　He　would　have　prayed　to　a　Creator　he　had　long　abandoned　if　he　remembered　how。　He　would　have　shrieked　if　he　remembered　how；　if　he　remembered　that　humans　shrieked；　that　he　was　human。　On　and　on；　more　and　more。。。
　　　Raising　a　hand　to　his　forehead；　he　wondered　why　it　trembled。　His　head　ached；　too。　There　had　been　something。。。　He　gave　a　start　at　the　street　below。　Everything　was　changed　in　the　blink　of　an　eye；　the　people　different；　wagons　moved；　colorful　coaches　and　chairs　replaced　by　others。　Worse；　Cauthon　was　gone。　He　wanted　to　swallow　that　whole　flask　of　brandy　in　one　gulp。
　　　Suddenly　he　realized　that　Shiaine　had　stopped　talking。　He　turned；　ready　to　continue　putting　her　in　her　place。
　　　She　was　leaning　forward　in　the　act　of　rising；　one　hand　on　the　arm　of　her　chair；　the　other　raised　in　a　gesture。　Her　narrow　face　was　fixed　in　petulant　defiance；　but　not　at　Carridin。　She　did　not　move。　She　did　not　blink。　He　was　not　sure　she　breathed。　He　barely　noticed　her。
　　　〃Ruminating？〃　Sammael　said。　〃Can　I　at　least　hope　that　it　is　about　what　you　are　here　to　find　for　me？〃　He　stood　only　a　little　taller　than　average；　a　muscular；　solid　man　in　a　coat　of　the　high…collared　Illianer　style；　so　covered　with　gold…work　it　was　hard　to　tell　the　cloth　was　green；　but　more　than　being　one　of　the　Chosen　gave　him　stature。　His　blue　eyes　were　colder　than　winter's　heart。　A　livid　scar　burned　down　his　face　from　golden　hairline　to　the　edge　of　golden；　square…cut　beard；　and　it　seemed　a　suitable　decoration。　Whatever　got　in　his　way　was　brushed　aside；　trampled　or　obliterated。　Carridin　knew　Sammael　would　have　turned　his　bowels　to　water　if　the　man　had　been　just　someone　met　by　chance。
　　　Hurriedly　moving　from　the　window；　he　dropped　to　his　knees　before　the　Chosen。　He　despised　the　Tar　Valon　witches；　indeed；　he　despised　anyone　who　used　the　One　Power；　meddling　with　what　had　broken　the　world　once；　wielding　what　mere　mortals　should　not　touch。　This　man　used　the　Power；　too；　but　the　Chosen　could　not　be　called　mere　mortals。　Perhaps　not　mortals　at　all。　And　if　he　served　well；　neither　would　he　be。　〃Great　Master；　I　saw　Mat　Cauthon。〃
　　　〃Here？〃　Oddly；　for　a　moment；　Sammael　seemed　taken　aback。　He　murmured　something　under　his　breath；　and　the　blood　drained　from　Carridin's　face　at　one　caught　word。
　　　〃Great　Lord；　you　know　I　would　never　betray　…〃
　　　〃You？　Fool！　You　haven't　the　stomach。　Are　you　certain　it　was　Cauthon　you　saw？〃
　　　〃Yes；　Great　Master。　In　the　street。　I　know　I　can　find　him　again。〃
　　　Sammael　frowned　down　at　him；　stroking　his　beard；　looking　through　and　beyond　Jaichim　Carridin。　Carridin　did　not　like　feeling　insignificant；　especially　when　he　knew　it　was　true。
　　　〃No；〃　Sammael　said　finally。　〃Your　search　is　the　most　important　thing；　the　only　thing；　so　far　as　you　are　concerned。　Cauthon's　death　would　be　convenient；　certainly；　but　not　if　it　draws　attention　here。　If　it　appears　that　attention　is　already　here；　should　he　take　an　interest　in　your　search；　then　he　dies；　but　otherwise；　he　can　wait。〃
　　　〃But　…　〃
　　　〃Did　you　mishear　me？〃　Sammael's　scar　pulled　his　smile　into　a　snarl　on　one　side。　〃I　saw　your　sister　Vanora　recently。　She　did　not　look　well；　at　first。　Screaming　and　weeping；　twitching　constantly　and　pulling　at　her　hair。　Women　do　suffer　worse　than　men　from　the　attentions　of　Myrddraal；　but　even　Myrddraal　must　find　their　pleasures　somewhere。　Don't　worry　that　she　suffered　too　long。　The　Trollocs　are　always　hungry。〃　The　smile　faded；　his　voice　was　stone。　〃Those　who　disobey　can　find　themselves　over　a　cookfire；　too。　Vanora　seemed　to　be　smiling；　Carridin。　Do　you　think　you　would　smile；　turning　on　a　spit？〃
　　　Carridin　swallowed　in　spite　of　himself；　and　quelled　a　pang　for　Vanora；　with　her　ready　laugh　and　her　skill　with　horses；　daring　to　gallop　where　others　feared　to　walk。　She　had　been　his　favorite　sister；　yet　she　was　dead　and　he　was　not。　If　there　were　any　mercies　in　the　world；　she　had　not　learned　why。　〃I　live　to　serve　and　obey；　Great　Master。〃　He　did　not　believe　he　was　a　coward；　but　no　one　disobeyed　one　of　the　Chosen。　Not　more　than　once。
　　　〃Then　find　what　I　want！〃　Sammael　roared。　〃I　know　it's　hidden　somewhere　in　this　kjasic　flyspeck　of　a　city！　Ter'angreal；　angreal；　even　sa'angreal！　I　have　tracked　them；　traced　them！　Now　you　find　them；　Carridin。　Do　not　make　me　grow　impatient。〃
　　　〃Great　Master。。。　〃　He　worked　his　mouth　to　find　moisture。　〃Great　Master；　there