srdonaldson.theillearthwar-第31部分

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　〃That　is　true。　But　you　came　to　me。　I　answer　as　I　can。〃
　〃I　know。　Don't　mind　me。　But　tell　me　this。　What　would　you　do　in　my　place？〃
　〃No；〃　said　Mhoram。　At　last　he　moved　his　chair　to　one　side；　so　that　he　could　see　Covenant's　face。　Gazing　into　the　Unbeliever's　unsteady　features；　he　replied；　〃That　I　will　not　answer。　Who　can　declare？　Power　is　a　dreadful　thing。　I　cannot　judge　you　with　an　answer。　I　have　not　yet　judged　myself。〃
　The　instability　of　Covenant's　expression　momentarily　resolved　into　seeking。　But　he　did　not　speak；　and　after　a　time　Mhoram　decided　to　risk　another　question。　〃Thomas　Covenant；　why　do　you　take　this　so？　Why　are　you　so　hurt？　You　say　that　the　Land　is　a　dream　a　delusion…that　we　have　no　real　life。　Then　do　not　be　concerned。　Accept　the　dream；　and　laugh。　When　you　awaken；　you　will　be　free。〃
　〃No；〃　Covenant　said。　〃I　recognized　something　in　what　you　said…I'm　starting　to　understand　this。　Listen。　This　whole　crisis　here　is　a　struggle　inside　me。　By　hell；　I've　been　a　leper　so　long；　I'm　starting　to　think　that　the　way　people　treat　lepers　is　justified。　So　I'm　being　my　own　enemy；　my　own　Despiser…working　against　myself　when　I　try　to　stay　alive　by　agreeing　with　the　people　who　make　it　so　hard。　That's　why　I'm　dreaming　this。　Catharsis。　Work　out　the　dilemma　subconsciously；　so　that　when　I　wake　up　I'll　be　able　to　cope。〃
　He　stood　up　suddenly；　and　began　to　pace　Mhoram's　ascetic　chamber　with　a　voracious　gleam　in　his　eyes。　〃Sure。　That's　it。　Why　didn't　I　think　of　it　before？　I've　been　telling　myself　all　the　time　that　this　is　escapism；　suicide。　But　that's　not　it…that's　not　it　at　all。　Just　forget　that　I'm　losing　every　one　of　the　habits　that　keep　me　alive。　This　is　dream　therapy。〃
　But　abruptly　a　grimace　of　pain　clutched　his　face。　〃Hellfire！〃　he…　rasped　intensely。　〃That　sounds　like　a　story　I　should　have　burned…back　when　I　was　burning　stories…when　I　still　had　stories　to　burn。〃
　Mhoram　heard　the　anguished　change；　the　turning　to　dust；　in　Covenant's　tone；　and　he　stood　to　reach　out　toward　his　visitor。　But　he　did　not　need　to　move；　Covenant　came　almost　aimlessly　in　his　direction；　as　if　within　the　four　walls　of　the　chamber　he　had　lost　his　way。　He　stopped　at　the　table　near　Mhoram；　and　gazed　miserably　at　the　krill。　His　voice　shook。
　〃I　don't　believe　it。　That's　just　another　easy　way　to　die。　I　already　know　too　many　of　them。〃
　He　seemed　to　stumble；　though　he　was　standing　still。　He　lurched　forward；　and　caught　himself　on　Mhoram's　shoulder。　For　a　moment；　he　clung　there；　pressing　his　forehead　into　Mhoram's　robe。　Then　Mhoram　lowered　him　into　a　chair。
　〃Ah；　my　friend；　how　can　I　help　you？　I　do　not　understand。〃
　Covenant's　lips　trembled；　but　with　a　visible　effort　he　regained　control　of　his　voice。　〃Just　tired。　I　haven't　eaten　since　yesterday。　That　Unfettered　One…drained　me。　Some　food　would　be　very　nice。〃
　The　opportunity　to　do　something　for　Covenant　gave　Mhoram　a　feeling　of　relief。　Moving　promptly；　he　brought　his　guest　a　flask　of　springwine。　Covenant　drank　as　if　he　were　trying　to　break　an　inner　drought；　and　Mhoram　went　to　his　back　rooms　to　find　some　food。
　While　he　was　placing　bread　and　cheese　and　grapes　on　a　tray；　he　heard　a　sharp；　distant　shout；　a　voice　cried　his　name　with　an　urgency　that　smote　his　heart。　He　set　the　tray　down；　hastened　to　throw　open　the　door　of　his　chambers。
　In　the　sudden　wash　of　light　from　the　courtyard；　he　saw　a　warrior　standing　in　one　of　the　coigns　high　above　him。　The　warrior　was　a　young　man…too　young　for　war　meat；　Mhoram　thought　grimly…who　had　lost　mand　of　himself。　〃Lord　Mhoram！〃　he　blurted。　〃e！　Now！　The　Close！〃
　〃Stop。〃　The　authority　in　Mhoram's　tone　caught　the　young　man　like　a　bit。　He　winced；　stiffened；　forced　down　a　chaotic　tumult　of　words。　Then　he　recovered　his　self…possession。　Seeing　this；　the　Lord　said　more　gently；　〃I　hear　you。　Speak。〃
　〃The　High　Lord　asks　that　you　e　to　the　Close　at　once。　A　messenger　has　e　from　the　Plains　of　Ra。　The　Gray　Slayer　is　marching。〃
　〃War？〃　Mhoram　spoke　softly　to　conceal　a　sharp　prevision　of　blood。
　〃Yes；　Lord　Mhoram。〃
　　〃Please　say　to　the　High　Lord　that　that　I　have　heard　you。〃
　Bearing　himself　carefully；　Mhoram　turned　back　toward　Covenant。　The　Unbeliever　met　his　gaze　with　a　hot；　oddly　focused　look；　as　if　his　skull　were　splitting　between　his　eyes。　Mhoram　asked　simply；　〃Will　you　e？〃
　Covenant　gripped　the　Lord's　gaze；　and　said；　〃Tell　me　something；　Mhoram。　How　did　you　get　away　when　that　Raver　caught　you…near　Foul's　Creche？〃
　Mhoram　answered　with　a　conscious　serenity；　a　refusal　of　dismay；　which　looked　like　danger　in　his　goldflecked　eyes。　〃The　Bloodguard　with　me　were　slain。　But　when　samadhi　Raver　touched　me；　he　knew　me　as　I　knew　him。　He　was　daunted。〃
　For　a　moment；　Covenant　did　not　move。　Then　he　dropped　his　glance。　Wearily；　he　set　the　stoneware　flask　on　the　table；　pushed　it　over　so　that　it　clicked　against　the　krill。　He　tugged　momentarily　at　his　beard；　then　pulled　himself　to　his　feet。　To　Mhoram's　gaze；　he　looked　like　a　thin　candle　clogged　with　spilth…guttering；frail；　and　portionless。
　〃Yes；〃　he　said。　〃Elena　asked　me　the　same　thing。　For　all　the　good　it'll　do　any　of　us。　I'm　ing。〃
　Awkwardly；　he　shambled　out　onto　the　burning　floor。
　
　
　PART　II
　The　Warmark
　
　
　ELEVEN：　War　Council
　
　HILE　Troy　was　sure　of　one　thing；　despite　whatever　Covenant　said；　the　Land　was　no　dream。　He　perceived　this　with　an　acuteness　which　made　his　heart　ache。
　In　the　〃real〃　world；　he　had　not　been　simply　blind；　he　had　been　eyeless　from　birth。　He　lacked　even　the　organs　of　sight　which　could　have　given　him　a　conception　of　what　vision　was。　Until　the　mysterious　event　which　had　snatched　him　from　between　opposing　deaths；　and　had　dropped　him　on　the　sunlit　grass　of　Trothgard；　light　and　dark　had　been　equally　inprehensible　to　him。　He　had　not　known　that　he　lived　in　immitigable　midnight。　The　tools　with　which　he　had　handled　his　physical　surroundings　had　been　hearing　and　touch　and　language。　His　sense　of　ambience；　his　sensitivity　to　the　auras　of　objects　and　the　resonances　of　space；　was　translated　by　words　until　it　became　his　sole　measure　of　the　concrete　world。　He　had　been　a　good　strategist　precisely　because　his　perceptions　of　space　and　interacting　force　were　pure；　undistracted　by　any　knowledge　of　day　or　night　or　color　or　brilliance　or　illusion。
　Therefore　he　could　not　be　imagining　the　Land。　His　former　mind　had　not　contained　the　raw　materials　out　of　which　such　dreams　were　made。　When　he　appeared　in　the　Land…when　Lord　Elena　taught　him　that　the　rush　of　sensations　which　confused　him　was　sight　the　experience　was　altogether　new。　It　did　not　restore　to　him　something　that　he　had　lost。　It　opened　in　front　of　him　like　an　oracle。
　He　knew　that　the　Land　was　real。
　And　he　knew　that　its　future　hung　by　the　thread　of　his　strategy　in　this　war。　If　he　made　a　mistake；　then　more　brightness　and　color　than　he　could　ever　take　into　account　were　doomed。
　So　when　Ruel；　the　Bloodguard　assigned　to　watch　over　him；　came　to　him　in　his　quarters　and　informed　him　that　a　Ramen　Manethrall　had　arrived　from　the　Plains　of　Ra；　bringing　word　of　Lord　…Foul's　army；　Troy　felt　an　instant　of　panic。　It　had　begun…the　test　of　all　his　training；　planning；　hopes。　If　he　had　believed　Mhoram's　tales　of　a　Creator；　he　would　have　dropped　to　his　knees　to　pray
　But　he　had　never　learned　to　rely　on　anyone　but　himself。　The　Wayward　and　the　strategy　were　his；　he　was　in　mand。　He　paused　just　long　enough　to　strap　the　traditional　ebony　sword　of　the　Warmark　to　his　waist　and　don　his　headband。　Then　he　followed　Ruel　toward　the　Close。
　As　he　moved；　he　was　grateful　for　the　brightness　of　the　torches　in　the　hallways。　Even　with　their　help；　his　sight　was　dim。　In　daylight；　he　could　see　clearly；　with　more　grasp　of　detail　and　more　distance　than　the　fareyed　Giants。　The　sun　brought　distant　things　close　to　him；　at　times；　he　felt　that　he　possessed　more　of　the　Land　than　anyone　else。　But　night　restored　his　blindness　like　an　insistent　reminder　of　where　he　had　e　from。　While　the　sun　was　down；　he　was　lost　without　torches　or　fires。　Starlight　did　not　touch　his　private　darkness；　and　even　a　full　moon　cast　no　more　than　a　gray　smudge　across　his　mind。
　Sometimes　in　the　middle　of　the　night；　his　sightlessness　scared　him　like　a　repudiation　of　sunlight　and　vision。
　By　force　of　habit；　he　adjusted　his　sunglasses。　He　had　worn　them　for　so　long；　out　of　consideration　for　the　people　with　eyes　who　had　to　look　at　him；　that　they　felt　like　a　part　of　his　face。　But　he　never　saw　them；　they　had　no　effect　on　his　vision。　Nothing　that　came　within　six　inches　of　his　orbless　sockets　blocked　his　mental　sight　at　all。
　To　control　his　tension；　he　strode　toward　the　Close　without　hurrying。　At　one　point；　a　group　of　Hafts；　the　manders　of　Eoward；　saluted　him　and　then　jogged　ahead　with　their　swords　clattering；　and　later　Lord　Verement　came　hawklike　down　a　broad　staircase　and　rushed　past　him。　But　he　did　not　vary　his　step　until　he　reached　the　high　doors　of　the　council　chamber。　There　he　found　Quaan　waiting　for　him。
　The　sight　of　the　old　stalwart　Hiltmark　gave　him　a　pang。　In　this　dim　light；　Quaan's　thin　white　hair　made　him　look　frail。　But　he　saluted　Troy　briskly；　and　reported　that　all　fifty　Hafts　were　now　in　the　Close。
　Fifty。　Troy　recited　the　numbers　to　himself　as　if　he　were　repeating　a　rite　of　mand：　Fifty　Eoward；　one　thousand　Eoman；　a　total　of　twenty…one　thousand　fifty　warriors；　First　Haft　Amorine；　Hiltmark　Quaan；　and　himself。　He　nodded　as　if　to　assure　Quaan　that　they　would　be　enough。　Then　he　marched　down　into　the　Close　to　take　his　seat　at　the　Lords'　table。
　Around　him；　the　chamber　was　almost　filled；　and　most　of　the　leaders　were　in　their　chairs。　The　space　was　so　well…lit　that　now　he　could　see　clearly。　The　High　Lord　sat　with　quiet　intensity　at　the　head　of　the　table；　and　between　her　and　him　were　Callindrill；　Trevor；　Loerya；　and　Amatin；　each　keeping　a　private　silence。　But　Troy　knew　them；　and　could　guess　something　of　their　thoughts。　Lord　Loerya　hoped　despite　the　demands　of　her　Lordship　that　she　and　Trevor　would　not　be　chosen　to　leave　Revelstone　and　her　daughters。　And　her　husband　seemed　to　be　remembering　that　he　had　fallen　under　the　strain　of　fighting　the　ill　in　dukkha　Waynhim…remembering；　and　wondering　if　he　had　the　strength　for　this　war。
　About　Elena；　Troy　did　not　speculate。　Her　beauty　confused　him；　he　did　not　want　to　think　that