rh.theassassinsapprentice-第7部分

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d　Molly　sprawling。　Barnacles　cut　into　her　wind…reddened　knees；　and　when　she　crabbed　aside　to　avoid　the　clumsy　kick　he　aimed　at　her；　I　winced　at　the　salty　sand　that　packed　the　new　cuts。
　　　　　　　〃Faithless　little　musk　cat！　Didn't　I　tell　you　to　stay　and　tend　to　the　dipping！　And　here　I　find　you　mucking　about　on　the　beach；　with　the　tallow　gone　hard　in　the　pot。　They'll　be　wanting　more　tapers　up　at　the　keep　this　night；　and　what　am　I　to　sell　them？〃
　　　　　　　〃The　three　dozen　I　set　this　morning。　That　was　all　you　left　me　wicking　for；　you　drunken　old　sot！〃　Molly　got　to　her　feet　and　stood　bravely　despite　her　brimming　eyes。　〃What　was　I　to　do？　Burn　up　all　the　fuel　to　keep　the　tallow　soft　so　that　when　you　finally　gave　me　wicking；　we'd　have　no　way　to　heat　the　kettle？〃
　　　　　　　The　wind　gusted　and　the　man　swayed　shallowly　against　it。　It　brought　us　a　whiff　of　him。　Sweat　and　beer；　Nosy　informed　me　sagely。　For　a　moment　the　man　looked　regretful；　but　then　the　pain　of　his　sour　belly　and　aching　head　hardened　him。　He　stooped　suddenly　and　seized　a　whitened　branch　of　driftwood。　〃You　won't　talk　to　me　like　that；　you　wild　brat！　Down　here　with　the　beggar　boys；　doing　El　knows　what！　Stealing　from　the　smoke　racks　again；　I'll　wager；　and　bringing　more　shame　to　me！　Dare　to　run；　and　you'll　have　it　twice　when　I　catch　you。〃
　　　　　　　She　must　have　believed　him；　for　she　only　cowered　as　he　advanced　on　her；　putting　up　her　thin　arms　to　shield　her　head　and　then　seeming　to　think　better　of　it；　and　hiding　only　her　face　with　her　hands。　I　stood　transfixed　in　horror　while　Nosy　yelped　with　my　terror　and　wet　himself　at　my　feet。　I　heard　the　swish　of　the　driftwood　knob　as　the　club　descended。　My　heart　leaped　sideways　in　my　chest　and　I　pushed　at　the　man；　the　force　jerking　out　oddly　from　my　belly。
　　　　　　　He　fell；　as　had　the　keg　man　the　day　before。　But　this　man　fell　clutching　at　his　chest；　his　driftwood　weapon　spinning　harmlessly　away。　He　dropped　to　the　sand；　gave　a　twitch　that　spasmed　his　whole　body；　and　then　was　still。
　　　　　　　An　instant　later　Molly　unscrewed　her　eyes；　shrinking　from　the　blow　she　still　expected。　She　saw　her　father　collapsed　on　the　rocky　beach；　and　amazement　emptied　her　face。　She　leaped　toward　him；　crying；　〃Papa；　Papa；　are　you　all　right？　Please；　don't　die；　I'm　sorry　I'm　such　a　wicked　girl！　Don't　die；　I'll　be　good；　I　promise　I'll　be　good。〃　Heedless　of　her　bleeding　knees；　she　knelt　beside　him；　turning　his　face　so　he　wouldn't　breathe　in　sand；　and　then　vainly　trying　to　sit　him　up。
　　　　　　　〃He　was　going　to　kill　you；〃　I　told　her；　trying　to　make　sense　of　the　whole　situation。
　　　　　　　〃No。　He　hits　me；　a　bit；　when　I　am　bad；　but　he'd　never　kill　me。　And　when　he　is　sober　and　not　sick；　he　cries　about　it　and　begs　me　not　be　too　bad　and　make　him　angry。　I　should　take　more　care　not　to　anger　him。　Oh；　Newboy；　I　think　he's　dead。〃
　　　　　　　I　wasn't　sure　myself；　but　in　a　moment　he　gave　an　awful　groan　and　opened　his　eyes　a　bit。　Whatever　fit　had　felled　him　seemed　to　have　passed。　Dazedly　he　accepted　Molly's　self…accusations　and　anxious　help；　and　even　my　reluctant　aid。　He　leaned　on　the　two　of　us　as　we　wove　our　way　down　the　rocky　beach　over　the　uneven　footing。　Nosy　followed　us；　by　turns　barking　and　racing　in　circles　around　us。
　　　　　　　The　few　folk　who　saw　us　pass　paid　no　attention　to　us。　I　guessed　that　the　sight　of　Molly　helping　her　papa　home　was　not　strange　to　any　of　them。　I　helped　them　as　far　as　the　door　of　a　small　chandlery；　Molly　sniffling　apologies　every　step　of　the　way。　I　left　them　there；　and　Nosy　and　I　found　our　way　back　up　the　winding　streets　and　hilly　road　to　the　keep；　wondering　every　step　at　the　ways　of　folk。
　　　　　　　Having　found　the　town　and　the　beggar　children　once；　they　drew　me　like　a　magnet　every　day　afterward。　Burrich's　days　were　taken　up　with　his　duties；　and　his　evenings　with　the　drink　and　merriment　of　the　Springfest。　He　paid　little　mind　to　my　ings　and　goings；　as　long　as　each　evening　found　me　on　my　pallet　before　his　hearth。　In　truth；　I　think　he　had　little　idea　of　what　to　do　with　me；　other　than　see　that　I　was　fed　well　enough　to　grow　heartily　and　that　I　slept　safe　within　doors　at　night。　It　could　not　have　been　a　good　time　for　him。　He　had　been　Chivalry's　man；　and　now　that　Chivalry　had　cast　himself　down；　what　was　to　bee　of　him？　That　must　have　been　much　on　his　mind。　And　there　was　the　matter　of　his　leg。　Despite　his　knowledge　of　poultices　and　bandaging；　he　could　not　seem　to　work　the　healing　on　himself　that　he　so　routinely　served　to　his　beasts。　Once　or　twice　I　saw　the　injury　unwrapped　and　winced　at　the　ragged　tear　that　refused　to　heal　smoothly　but　remained　swollen　and　oozing。　Burrich　cursed　it　roundly　at　first　and　set　his　teeth　grimly　each　night　as　he　cleaned　and　redressed　it；　but　as　the　days　passed　he　regarded　it　with　more　of　a　sick　despair　than　anything　else。　Eventually　he　did　get　it　to　close；　but　the　ropy　scar　twisted　his　leg　and　disfigured　his　walk。　Small　wonder　he　had　little　mind　to　give　to　a　young　bastard　deposited　in　his　care。
　　　　　　　So　I　ran　free　in　the　way　that　only　small　children　can；　unnoticed　for　the　most　part。　By　the　time　Springfest　was　over；　the　guards　at　the　keep's　gate　had　bee　accustomed　to　my　daily　ings　and　goings。　They　probably　thought　me　an　errand　boy；　for　the　keep　had　many　of　those；　only　slightly　older　than　I。　I　learned　to　pilfer　early　from　the　keep's　kitchen　enough　for　both　Nosy　and　myself　to　breakfast　heartily。　Scavenging　other　food…burned　crusts　from　the　bakers；　sheet　and　seaweed　from　the　beach；　smoked　fish　from　untended　racks　was　a　regular　part　of　my　day's　activities。　Molly　Nosebleed　was　my　most　frequent　panion。　I　seldom　saw　her　father　strike　her　after　that　day；　for　the　most　part　he　was　too　drunk　to　find　her；　or　to　make　good　on　his　threats　when　he　did。　To　what　I　had　done　that　day；　I　gave　little　thought；　other　than　to　be　grateful　that　Molly　had　not　realized　I　was　responsible。
　　　　　　　The　town　became　the　world　to　me；　with　the　keep　a　place　I　went　to　sleep。　It　was　summer；　a　wonderful　time　in　a　port　town。　No　matter　where　I　went；　Buckkeep　Town　was　alive　with　ings　and　goings。　Goods　came　down　the　Buck　River　from　the　Inland　Duchies；　on　flat　river　barges　manned　by　sweating　bargemen。　They　spoke　learnedly　about　shoals　and　bars　and　landmarks　and　the　rising　and　falling　of　the　river　waters。　Their　freight　was　hauled　up　into　the　town　shops　or　warehouses；　and　then　down　again　to　the　docks　and　into　the　holds　of　the　sea　ships。　Those　were　manned　by　swearing　sailors　who　sneered　at　the　rivermen　and　their　inland　ways。　They　spoke　of　tides　and　storms　and　nights　when　not　even　the　stars　would　show　their　faces　to　guide　them。　And　fishermen　tied　up　to　Buckkeep　docks　as　well；　and　were　the　most　genial　of　the　group。　At　least　so　they　were　when　the　fish　were　running　well。
　　　　　　　Kerry　taught　me　the　docks　and　the　taverns；　and　how　a　quick…footed　boy　might　earn　three　or　even　five　pence　a　day；　running　messages　up　the　steep　streets　of　the　town。　We　thought　ourselves　sharp　and　daring；　to　thus　undercut　the　bigger　boys　who　asked　two　pence　or　even　more　for　just　one　errand。　I　don't　think　I　have　ever　been　as　brave　since　as　I　was　then。　If　I　close　my　eyes；　I　can　smell　those　glorious　days。　Oakum　and　tar　and　fresh　wood　shavings　from　the　dry　docks　where　the　shipwrights　wielded　their　drawknives　and　mallets。　The　sweet　smell　of　very　fresh　fish；　and　the　poisonous　odor　of　a　catch　held　too　long　on　a　hot　day。　Bales　of　wool　in　the　sun　added　their　own　note　to　the　scent　of　oak　kegs　of　mellow　Sandsedge　brandy。　Sheaves　of　fevergone　hay　waiting　to　sweeten　a　forepeak　mingled　scents　with　crates　of　hard　melons。　And　all　of　these　smells　were　swirled　by　a　wind　off　the　bay；　seasoned　with　salt　and　iodine。　Nosy　brought　all　he　scented　to　my　attention　as　his　keener　senses　overrode　my　duller　ones。
　　　　　　　Kerry　and　I　would　be　sent　to　fetch　a　navigator　gone　to　say　good…bye　to　his　wife；　or　to　bear　a　sampling　of　spices　to　a　buyer　at　a　shop。　The　harbormaster　might　send　us　running　to　let　a　crew　know　some　fool　had　tied　the　lines　wrong　and　the　tide　was　about　to　abandon　their　ship。　But　I　liked　best　the　errands　that　took　us　into　the　taverns。　There　the　storytellers　and　gossips　plied　their　trades。　The　storytellers　told　the　classic　tales；　of　voyages　of　discovery　and　crews　who　braved　terrible　storms　and　of　foolish　captains　who　took　down　their　ships　with　all　hands。　I　learned　many　of　the　traditional　ones　by　heart；　but　the　tales　I　loved　best　came　not　from　the　professional　storytellers　but　from　the　sailors　themselves。　These　were　not　the　tales　told　at　the　hearths　for　all　to　hear；　but　the　warnings　and　tidings　passed　from　crew　to　crew　as　the　men　shared　a　bottle　of　brandy　or　a　loaf　of　yellow　pollen　bread。
　　　　　　　They　spoke　of　catches　they'd　made；　nets　full　to　sinking　the　boat　almost；　or　of　marvelous　fish　and　beasts　glimpsed　only　in　the　path　of　a　full　moon　as　it　cut　a　ship's　wake。　There　were　stories　of　villages　raided　by　Outislanders；　both　on　the　coast　and　on　the　outlying　islands　of　our　Duchy；　and　tales　of　pirates　and　battles　at　sea　and　ships　taken　by　treachery　from　within。　Most　gripping　were　the　tales　of　the　Red…Ship　Raiders；　Outislanders　who　both　raided　and　pirated；　and　attacked　not　only　our　ships　and　towns　but　even　other　Outislander　ships。　Some　scoffed　at　the　notion　of　the　red…keeled　ships；　and　mocked　those　who　told　of　Outislander　pirates　turning　against　other　pirates　like　themselves。
　　　　　　　But　Kerry　and　I　and　Nosy　would　sit　under　the　tables　with　our　backs　braced　against　the　legs；　nibbling　penny　sweet　loaves；　and　listen　wide…eyed　to　tales　of　red…keeled　ships　with　a　dozen　bodies　swinging　from　their　yardarms；　not　dead；　no；　but　bound　men　who　jerked　and　shrieked　when　the　gulls　came　down　to　peck　at　them。　We　would　listen　to　deliciously　scary　tales　until　even　the　stuffy　taverns　seemed　chilling　cold；　and　then　we　would　race　down　to　the　docks　again；　to　earn　another　penny。
　　　　　　　Once　Kerry；　Molly；　and　I　built　a　raft　of　driftwood　logs　and　poled　it　about　under　the　docks。　We　left　it　tied　up　there；　and　when　the　tide　came　up；　it　battered　loose　a　whole　section　of　dock　and　damaged　two　skiffs。　For　days　we　dreaded　that　someone　would　discover　we　were　the　culprits。　And　one　time　a　tavern　keeper　boxed　Kerry's　ears　and　accused　us　both　of　stealing。　Our　revenge　was　the　stinking　herring　we　wedged　up　under　the　supports　of　his　tabletops。　It　rotted　and　stank　and　made　flies　for　days　before　he　found　it。