df.therunelords-第11部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　bear　scrutiny　cannot　bear　a　crown。〃　It　was　said　that　those　words　were　given　by　the　Glories　themselves；　when　the　Days　were　first　partnered　to　the　kings。　〃A　Runelord　should　be　a　servant　to　man；〃　the　Glories　had　said。
　So　Gaborn's　title　came　with　a　price。　He　would　never　be　free　of　this　man；　never　be　alone。　Though　he　might　rule　a　kingdom；　some　things　were　right…fully　denied　even　to　Gaborn。
　Lost　in　thought；　Gaborn　wondered　once　again　about　Borenson。　The　man　was　a　soldier；　and　soldiers　did　not　necessarily　make　good　lords；　for　they　were　trained　to　solve　every　problem　through　use　of　force。　Gaborn's　father　preferred　to　sell　titles　to　merchants；　who　were　trained　to　barter　for　what　they　wanted。　Gaborn　suddenly　realized　that　the　Days　had　never　fully　answered　him；　had　avoided　the　question。
　〃I　said；　'Borenson　is　a　good　man；　isn't　he？'　〃
　The　Days　looked　up；　his　head　nodding　just　a　bit。　The　disciple　was　well　on　his　way　to　being　solidly　drunk。　He　poured　more　wine。　〃Not　nearly　so　good　as　you；　Your　Lordship。　But　he'll　make　her　happy　enough；　I'd　wager。〃
　Your　Lordship。　Not　my　lord。
　〃But　he's　a　good　man；　isn't　he？〃　Gaborn　asked　a　third　time；　suddenly　angry　at　the　Days'　evasion。
　The　Days　looked　away；　started　to　mumble　something。
　Gaborn　struck　the　table　hard　enough　so　the　wine　bottles　jumped　and　the　mugs　clanked。　He　shouted；　〃Answer　me！〃
　The　Days　gaped　in　surprise。　He　knew　to　take　warning。　Fists　would　soon　fly。　Gaborn　had　endowments　of　brawn　from　three　men。　His　blow　could　kill　a　moner。
　〃Hahwhat　does　it　matter；　Your　Lordship？〃　the　Days　averred；　struggling　to　clear　his　muddled　thoughts。　〃You've　never　worried　about　his　goodness　before。　You've　never　questioned　his　moral　fiber。〃
　The　Days　took　another　swig　of　wine；　seemed　to　want　more；　but　thought　better　of　it　and　carefully　set　the　mug　aside。
　Why　am　I　questioning　Borenson's　moral　character？　Gaborn　wondered；　and　the　answers　flowed　to　him：　Because　you　were　drinking　addleberry　wine　and　noticed　how　Days　tried　to　evade　the　question。　Because　Myrrima　said　that　Princess　Iome　doubts　your　own　goodness；　and　now　you　are　worrying　at　what　others　think。　Because。。。because　you　know　that　any　lout　can　win　a　parcel　of　land；　but　it　takes　a　special　kind　of　king　to　win　the　hearts　of　his　people。
　Gaborn　hoped　to　win　the　hearts　of　Iome　and　her　people。　But　he　dared　not　reveal　details　of　his　plan　to　Daysor　to　anyone。　If　Gaborn's　father；　King　Orden；　learned　what　Gaborn　planned；　the　King　might　try　to　stop　him。
　The　wine　was　having　its　way　with　Gaborn　now；　bringing　the　world　into　focus。　But　Gaborn　would　not　be　sidetracked　from　his　questioning　by　other　observations。　〃Answer　my　question；　Days！　What　do　you　think　of　Borenson　？〃
　The　Days　put　both　hands　on　the　table；　screwed　up　his　courage。　〃As　you　wish；　Your　Lordship：　I　once　asked　Borenson　what　his　favorite　animal　is；　and　he　told　me　he　'admires　dogs。'　I　asked　him　why；　and　he　answered：　'I　love　to　hear　them　snarl。　I　love　the　way　they　greet　strangers　with　senseless　aggression。'　〃
　Gaborn　laughed。　It　was　the　kind　of　perfect　thing　Borenson　would　say。　The　man　was　a　terror　in　battle。
　The　Days　seemed　relieved　by　Gaborn's　good　humor。　He　leaned　forward　conspiratorially。　〃To　tell　you　the　truth；　Your　Lordship；　I　think　Borenson　admires　another　attribute　in　dogs。　One　he　did　not　name。〃
　〃Which　is？〃
　〃Loyalty。〃
　Gaborn　laughed　harder。　〃So；　Borenson　is　a　dog？〃
　〃No。　He　only　aspires　to　be　one。　If　I　may　be　so　bold；　I　fear　he　has　all　of　dog's　finest　virtues　but　loyalty。〃
　〃So　you　don't　believe　he　is　a　good　man？〃
　〃He's　an　assassin。　A　butcher；　Your　Lordship。　That　is　why　he　is　captain　of　your　guard。〃
　This　angered　Gaborn。　The　Days　was　wrong。　The　historian　smiled　drunkenly；　took　another　swig　to　fortify　his　courage。
　The　Days　continued；　〃In　fact；　none　of　your　friends　are　very　good　people；　Your　Lordship。　You　don't　value　virtue　in　your　friends。〃
　〃What　do　you　mean？〃　Gaborn　asked。　He'd　always　thought　his　friends　had　an　acceptable　level　of　virtue。
　〃It　is　simple；　Your　Lordship；〃　the　Days　said。　〃Some　men　pick　their　friends　based　on　looks；　others　on　wealth　or　political　station；　others　on　mon　interests。　Some　choose　friends　based　on　their　virtue。　But　you　do　not　value　any　of　these　traits；　highly。〃
　It　was　true；　Gaborn　had　friends　among　the　ugly；　the　powerless。　His　friend　Eldon　Parris　sold　roasted　rabbits　in　a　public　market。　And　Gaborn　also　enjoyed　the　pany　of　more　than　one　person　who　might　best　be　described　as　a　scoundrel。
　〃Then　how　do　I　pick　my　friends？〃　Gaborn　asked。
　〃Because　you　are　young；　you　value　men　based　upon　their　insights　into　the　human　heart；　Your　Lordship。〃
　This　statement　struck　Gaborn　like　a　blast　of　air　off　a　frozen　lake。　It　was　stunning；　refreshingly　honest；　and；　of　course；　obviously　true。
　〃I　had　never　noticed。。。〃
　The　Days　laughed。　〃It's　one　of　the　seven　keys　to　understanding　motives。　I　fear；　young　master　Gaborn；　you　are　lousy　at　picking　friends。　Hah！　I　sometimes　imagine　how　it　will　be　when　you　are　a　king：　You'll　surround　yourselves　with　eccentrics；　and　scholars。　In　no　time　they'll　have　you　taking　garlic　enemas　and　wearing　pointy　shoes！　Hah！〃
　〃Seven　keys？　Where　did　you　learn　such　lore？〃　Gaborn　asked。
　〃In　the　Room　of　Dreams；〃　the　Days　said。　Then　he　suddenly　sat　up　straight；　recognizing　his　mistake。
　In　the　House　of　Understanding；　the　Room　of　Dreams　was　forbidden　to　Runelords。　The　secrets　one　learned　there；　of　human　motivations　and　desires；　were　considered　by　scholars　to　be　too　powerful　to　put　in　the　hands　of　a　king。
　Gaborn　smiled　triumphantly　at　this　little　tidbit；　raised　his　glass　in　toast。　〃To　dreams。〃
　But　the　Days　would　not　toast　with　him。　The　man　would　most　likely　never　drink　in　Gaborn's　presence　again。
　From　a　far　corner　of　the　room；　a　small　ratlike　ferrin　woman　came　out　of　the　shadows；　bearing　one　of　her　pups　in　hand。　The　pup　squealed　in　its　small　way；　but　the　Days　did　not　hear　it；　didn't　have　Gaborn's　keen　ears。　All　six　of　the　ferrin　woman's　nipples　were　red　and　swollen；　and　she　wore　a　yellow　rag　tied　round　her　shoulders。　She　stood　only　a　foot　tall；　and　her　pudgy　face　was　accented　by　thick　jowls。　She　waddled　up　behind　the　Days；　nearly　blinded　by　daylight；　and　stuffed　the　pup　in　the　Days'　coat　pocket。
　The　ferrin　were　not　an　intelligent　people。　They　had　a　language　of　sorts；　used　some　crude　tools。　Most　folk　considered　them　vermin；　since　the　ferrin　constantly　tunneled　into　houses　to　steal　food。
　Gaborn　had　heard　it　was　mon　for　a　ferrin　woman　to　wean　her　pups　this　way；　by　finding　an　inn；　then　sending　the　pup　off　in　the　pocket　of　a　stranger。　But　he'd　never　seen　it　happen。
　Many　a　man　would　have　tossed　a　dagger　into　the　ferrin。　Gaborn　smiled　blandly；　averted　his　eyes。
　Good；　he　thought；　let　the　pup　eat　the　lining　of　the　damned　historian's　coat。
　He　waited　until　the　ferrin　finished。
　〃And　what　of　me？〃　Gaborn　asked　the　drunken　Days。　〃Am　I　a　good　man？〃
　〃You；　Your　Lordship；　are　the　soul　of　virtue！〃
　Gaborn　smiled。　He　could　expect　no　other　answer。　In　the　back　of　the　mon　room；　an　Inkarran　singer　struck　up　the　mandolin；　began　to　practice　for　the　crowd　that　would　gather　later。　Gaborn　had　seldom　seen　an　Inkarran　play；　since　his　own　father　would　not　let　them　cross　the　borders；　and　he　enjoyed　the　diversion　now。
　The　Inkarran　had　skin　as　light　as　cream　and　hair　that　fell　like　liquid　silver；　his　eyes　were　as　green　as　ice。　His　body　was　tattooed　in　the　manner　of　his　tribeblue　symbols　of　vines　twining　up　his　legs；　with　images　that　brought　to　mind　the　names　of　his　ancestors　and　his　home　village。　On　his　knees　and　arms　were　images　of　knots　and　other　magic　symbols。
　The　man　sang　with　a　throaty　crooning；　a　very　powerful　voice。　It　was　beautiful　in　its　own　way；　and　hinted　that　this　singer　wore　the　〃hidden　runes　of　talent。〃　The　art　of　creating　hidden　runes　was　mastered　only　by　a　few　Inkarrans。　Yet；　despite　these　runes；　the　singer's　voice　could　not　duplicate　the　ethereal　tones　sung　by　the　virtuoso　outside　the　songhouse　an　hour　ago。　His　voice　was　more　generous；　Gaborn　decided。　The　woman　at　the　songhouse　had　sung　for　wealth　and　prestige；　but　this　man　sung　now　merely　to　entertain。　A　generous　gesture。
　The　Days　stared　down　at　his　mug；　knowing　he'd　said　too　much；　needing　to　say　one　thing　more。　〃Your　Lordship；　perhaps　it　is　well　that　you　do　not　value　virtue　in　your　friends。　You　will　know　not　to　trust　them。　And　if　you　are　wise；　you　will　not　trust　yourself。〃
　〃How　so？〃　Gaborn　asked；　wondering。　With　each　Days　twinned　to　another；　they　were　never　alone；　never　had　the　luxury　of　trusting　themselves。　Gaborn　wondered　if　this　pairing　was　really　an　advantage。
　〃Men　who　believe　themselves　to　be　good；　who　do　not　search　their　own　souls；　most　often　mit　the　worst　atrocities。　A　man　who　sees　himself　as　evil　will　restrain　himself。　It　is　only　when　we　do　evil　in　the　belief　that　we　do　good　that　we　pursue　it　wholeheartedly。〃
　Gaborn　grunted；　considering。
　〃If　I　may　be　so　bold；　Your　Lordship；　I'm　glad　you　question　yourself。　Men　don't　bee　good　by　performing　an　occasional　kindly　deed。　You　must　constantly　reexamine　your　thoughts　and　acts；　question　your　virtue。〃
　Gaborn　stared　at　the　thin　scholar。　The　man's　eyes　were　getting　glassy；　and　he　could　barely　hold　his　head　up。　His　thinking　seemed　somewhat　clearer　than　a　mon　drunk's；　and　he　offered　his　advice　in　a　kind　tone。　No　Days　had　ever　offered　Gaborn　advice　before。　It　was　a　singular　experience。
　At　that　moment；　the　inn　door　opened。　Two　more　men　entered；　both　with　dark　plexion；　both　with　brown　eyes。　They　were　dressed　as　merchants　fresh　off　the　road；　but　both　wore　rapiers　at　their　side；　and'　both　had　long　knives　strapped　at　their　knees。
　One　man　smiled；　one　frowned。
　Gaborn　remembered　something　his　father　had　taught　him　as　a　child。　〃In　the　land　of　Muyyatin；　assassins　always　travel　in　pairs。　They　talk　with　gestures。〃　Then　Gaborn's　father　had　taught　him　the　assassins'　codes。　One　man　smiling；　one　man　frowningNo　news；　either　good　or　bad。
　Gaborn's　eyes　flicked　across　the　room；　to　the　two　dark　men　in　the　far　corner。　Like　himself；　they　had　chosen　a　secure　position；　had　put　their　backs　to　the　wall。
　One　man　in　the　corner　scratched　his　left　ear：　We　have　heard　nothing。
　The　newcorners　sat　at　a　table　on　the　far　side　of　the　room　from　their　patriots。　One　man　put　his　hands　on　the　table；　palms　down。　We　wai