df.therunelords-第10部分

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ry；　after　all；　and　he　was　heir　apparent　to　the　wealthiest　nation　in　Rofehavan。
　〃Just　go；　will　you？〃　Gaborn　urged　them；　smiling。　〃If　it　makes　you　feel　better；　I　promise　that　as　soon　as　I　lunch；　I　will　go　to　my　room　and　bolt　the　door。〃
　〃We'll　be　back　well　before　dark；〃　Myrrima　said。
　Gaborn　said；　〃No；　I'll　seek　out　your　home。　I'd　like　to　meet　your　kind　sisters；　and　your　mother。〃
　Myrrima　urged；　breathlessly；　〃Across　the　Himmeroft　Bridgefour　miles　down　the　Bluebell　Way；　a　gray　cabin　in　the　meadow。〃
　Borenson　shook　his　head　adamantly。　〃No；　I'll　e　back　for　you。　I　won't　have　you　riding　alone。〃
　〃Farewell；　then；　until　this　afternoon；〃　Gaborn　said。　He　watched　them　scurry　off　through　the　crowd；　hand…in…hand；　a　certain　lightness　to　their　steps。
　For　a　few　moments；　Gaborn　stayed　in　the　market；　watching　an　entertainer　who　had　trained　albino　doves　to　do　all　manner　of　aerial　acrobatics；　then　he　wandered　the　cobbled　streets　of　Bannisferre；　every　step　dogged　by　his　Days。
　In　the　city's　center　towered　a　dozen　graystone　songhouses；　six　and　seven　stories　tall；　with　elaborate　friezes　and　statuary　about　them。
　On　the　steps　of　one　songhouse；　a　handsome　young　woman　sang　a　delicate　aria；　acpanied　by　woodwinds　and　harp。　A　group　of　peasants　crowded　round。　Her　voice　drifted　hauntingly；　echoing　from　the　tall　stone　buildings；　mesmerizing。　She　merely　advertised；　of　course。　She　hoped　to　attract　an　audience　for　her　performance　later　tonight。
　Gaborn　decided　he　would　attend；　bring　Borenson　and　Myrrima。
　Sturdy　bathhouses　and　gymnasiums　squatted　farther　down　the　street。　On　the　broad　avenues；　several　carriages　could　maneuver　with　ease。　Fine　shops　displayed　bone　china；　silver　goods；　and　gentlemen's　weaponry。
　Bannisferre　was　a　young　city；　less　than　four　hundred　years　old。　It　had　started　simply　as　a　meeting　ground　for　local　farmers　to　exchange　wares；　until　iron　was　discovered　along　the　Durkin　Hills。　The　ironsmiths　opened　a　foundry；　where　the　quality　of　the　goods　soon　attracted　a　wealthy　clientele　who　demanded　fine　acmodations　and　entertainment。
　So　Bannisferre　had　grown　to　be　a　center　for　the　arts；　attracting　smiths　who　worked　iron；　silver；　and　gold；　ceramists　famed　for　their　cloisonné　and　bone　china；　glassblowers　who　constructed　bewitching　mugs　and　vases　in　magnificent　colorsuntil　finally；　the　city　became　crowded　with　craftsmen　and　performers　from　all　walks　of　life。
　Bannisferre　was　a　fine　place；　a　city　free　of　grime。　Now　everywhere　it　was　festooned　with　images　of　the　Earth　Kingelaborate　wooden　images；　painted　and　dressed　with　loving　care。　The　streets　had　no　urchins　running　about　underfoot。　And　the　reeves　hereabout　were　dressed　in　fine　leather　coats　with　gold　brocade；　as　if　they　were　just　another　adornment　to　Bannisferre；　not　working　lawmen。
　Somehow；　the　loveliness　of　this　place　saddened　Gaborn。　The　city's　defenses　seemed　woefully　inadequate。　It　was　built　beside　a　river；　without　benefit　of　a　fortress。　A　low　wall　of　rocks　around　the　city　would　barely　repel　a　cavalry　chargeand　then　only　if　the　cavalry　was　not　riding　force　horses；　perhaps　a　few　soldiers　could　hold　out　for　a　bit　in　the　songhouses；　skirmishing　among　the　statuary。
　No；　in　a　war；　Bannisferre　would　be　overrun；　its　beauty　defiled。　The　graceful　songhouses　and　bathhouses　were　made　of　stone；　but　the　stonework　was　wrought　for　ornament；　not　with　defense　in　mind。　The　doorways　were　too　wide；　the　windows　too　expansive。　Even　the　bridges　across　River　Dwindell　were　wide　enough　so　carriages　could　drive　across　four　abreast。　They　could　not　be　easily　defended。
　Gaborn　returned　to　the　South　Market；　ambled　back　through　the　cloud　of　honeybees　into　the　shade　of　his　hostel。
　He　intended　to　keep　his　promise　to　Borenson；　keep　safe。　He　found　a　corner　table；　ordered　a　dinner　suitable　to　a　refined　palate；　then　rested　his　feet　on　the　table。
　His　Days　sat　across　from　him。　Gaborn　felt　like　celebrating　Borenson's　good　fortune。　He　tossed　a　silver　coin　to　a　towheaded　servant　boy　perhaps　five　years　younger　than　himself。　〃Bring　us　wine。　Something　sweet　for　the　Days。　Addleberry　for　me。〃
　〃Yes；　sir；〃　the　boy　answered。　Gaborn　looked　around。　The　room　was　fairly　empty。　Three　dozen　chairs；　but　only　a　few　of　them　filled。　At　the　far　end　of　the　room；　two　gentlemen　of　dark　plexion　sat　talking　softly　about　the　relative　virtues　of　different　inns　in　town。　A　few　greenbottle　flies　wheeled　in　slow　circles。　Outside；　a　pig　squealed　in　the　market。
　Toward　evening；　the　inn　would　fill。
　The　serving　boy　returned　with　two　brown　clay　mugs　and　two　genuine　bottles　of　yellow　glass；　not　the　hide　flasks　used　in　the　south。　Each　bottle　had　a　red　wax　seal　over　the　cap；　with　the　initial　B　inscribed。　It　seemed　a　fine　vintage；　the　bottles　well　aged　and　covered　with　grime。　Gaborn　was　not　used　to　such　nice　drink。　Wine　laid　up　in　bags　turned　vinegary　after　six　months。
　The　boy　poured　a　draught　for　each　man；　then　left　the　bottles　on　the　table。　Moisture　began　to　condense　on　the　bottles。　They　were　that　cold。
　Gaborn　studied　the　bottles　absently；　reached　out　with　an　index　finger　and　touched　the　dust　on　a　bottle；　tasted　the　soil。　Good；　sweet　earth。　Good　for　planting。
　The　Days　took　a　swallow　of　wine；　regarded　it　carefully。　〃Hmmm。。。〃　he　said。　〃I've　never　tasted　anything　so　fine。〃　In　seconds　he　downed　the　whole　mug；　thought　a　moment；　then　poured　himself　a　second。
　Gaborn　simply　stared　at　the　Days。　He'd　never　seen　the　like。　The　Days　was　such　a　sober　manhe　never　drank　to　excess。　Neither　did　he　womanize　or　waste　time　with　any　other　form　of　diversion。　He　was　singularly　mitted　to　his　discipline；　to　chronicling　the　lives　of　kings　on　behalf　of　the　Time　Lords。　Since　he　was　twinned　with　anothereach　man　having　given　the　other　an　endowment　of　witthe　two　pleted　a　circle。　Both　men　shared　a　single　mind；　knowing　the　same　things。　Such　sharing　usually　led　to　madness；　both　members　of　the　pair　struggling　for　control　of　the　joint　minds。　But　somewhere；　in　a　monastery　in　the　isles　beyond　Orwynne；　Days'　partner　transcribed　all　that　Days　learned。　It　was　only　because　the　two　Days　had　given　plete　control　of　their　own　identities　to　their　order　that　they　both　survived。
　So　it　was　odd　to　watch　a　Days　guzzle　wine。　It　was　an　extraordinarily　selfish　act。
　Gaborn　tasted　his　own　wine。　Addleberry　wine　was　not　truly　made　with　any　kind　of　berry；　only　with　sweet　grapes　that　were　treated　with　herbssuch　as　vervain；　evening　primrose；　and　elderflowerthat　stimulated　thought　and　reduced　the　detrimental　effects　of　alcohol。　It　tasted　spicier；　less　sweet　than　mon　wine；　and　the　cost　tended　to　be　prohibitive。　Its　name　was　a　jest：　ironically；　addleberry　wine　did　not　dull　the　wits；　but　instead　stimulated　them。　If　one　were　to　be　intoxicated；　Gaborn　reasoned；　it　was　best　to　be　intoxicated　on　insight。
　Here　in　the　inn；　with　the　pleasant　smells　of　cooking　bread　and　pork；　Gaborn　felt　a　little　more　at　ease。　He　took　a　couple　of　sips　of　wine；　found　it　surprisingly　good；　but　not　as　addictive　as　the　vintage　Days　guzzled。
　Yet　Gaborn　still　worried。　Outside；　an　hour　earlier；　he'd　felt　an　odd　rush　of　power。　Outside；　he'd　just　married　off　his　bodyguard；　and　he'd　congratulated　himself　on　doing　so。　But　inside　the　hostel；　it　seemed。。。so　peculiar。　An　impulsive；　childish　thing　to　do。
　Though　he'd　someday　be　sovereign　over　one　of　the　world's　great　realms；　under　normal　circumstances　he'd　never　have　dared　use　his　position　to　act　as　a　matchmaker。
　Gaborn　wondered。　He　was　shouldered　with　the　responsibility　of　being　a　king。　But　what　kind　of　king　would　he　make；　if　he　did　such　foolish　things？
　In　the　House　of　Understanding；　in　the　Room　of　the　Heart；　Hearthmaster　Ibirmarle　had　once　said；　〃Not　even　a　Runelord　can　rule　affairs　of　the　heart。　Only　a　fool　would　try。〃
　Yet　Gaborn　had　convinced　Borenson　to　take　a　wife。
　What　if　he　ends　up　hating　her？　Gaborn　wondered。　Will　he　resent　what　I've　done？
　It　was　such　a　muddling　thought。　And　what　of　Myrrima？　Would　she　love　Borenson？
　The　Days　began　drinking　his　second　mug　of　wine；　downed　it　in　a　few　gulps　despite　his　attempts　at　restraint。
　〃I　did　a　good　thing；　didn't　I？〃　Gaborn　said。　〃I　mean；　Borenson　is　a　good　man；　isn't　he？　He'll　love　her。〃
　The　Days　smiled　a　tight…lipped　smile；　watching　Gaborn　from　slitted　eyes。　〃There　is　a　saying　among　our　kind：　Good　deeds　portend　good　fortune。〃
　Gaborn　considered　the　words　〃our　kind。〃　Though　the　Days　were　human；　they　considered　themselves　as　creatures　apart。　Perhaps　they　were　right。
　Their　service　to　the　Time　Lords　required　great　sacrifices。　They　forsook　home　and　family；　loyalties　to　any　king。　Instead；　these　mysterious　men　and　women　simply　studied　the　great　lords；　wrote　the　chronicles；　published　the　deeds　of　a　man's　life　when　he　died；　and　in　all　other　ways　remained　aloof　from　mon　politics。
　Yet　Gaborn　did　not　entirely　trust　these　watchers；　with　their　secretive　smiles。　They　only　feigned　aloofness　in　the　affairs　of　men；　of　that　Gaborn　felt　certain。　Every　Runelord　was　followed　by　a　Days　who　recorded　his　words　and　deeds。　Sometimes；　when　two　Days　met；　they　reported　to　one　another　in　coded　phrases。　Gaborn's　ancestors　had　been　studying　the　Days　for　generations；　trying　to　break　their　codes。
　But　how　aloof　were　they　really？　Gaborn　suspected　that　the　Days　had　sometimes　betrayed　secrets　to　enemy　kings。　Certain　battles　could　only　have　been　won　on　the　advice　of　informersinformers　who　were　probably　Days。　Yet　if　as　a　group　the　Days　took　sides　in　wars　between　nations；　neither　Gaborn　nor　anyone　else　had　ever　been　able　to　determine　where　the　Days　placed　their　allegiance。
　No　discernible　battle　lines　were　drawn。　Evil　kings　prospered　from　Days'　spying　as　often　as　did　good。　And　no　king　could　escape　them。　Some　kings　had　tried　ridding　themselves　of　the　Days；　either　through　assassination　or　banishment。　But　such　kings　never　reigned　for　another　season。　As　a　group；　the　Days　were　too　powerful。　Any　king　who　dared　strike　down　one　Days　would　discover　just　how　much　information　a　Days'　partner　could　divulge。　Distressing　information　would　be　revealed　to　enemy　kings；　fortunes　would　be　ruined；　peasants　would　revolt。
　No　one　could　defy　the　Days。　Nor　did　Gaborn　feel　certain　that　any　man　should　want　to　do　so。　An　old　adage　went；　〃A　man　who　will　not　bear　scrutiny　cannot　bear　a　crown。〃　It　was　said　that　those　words　were　given　by　the　Glories　themselv