df.therunelords-第25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！


m；　out　for　vengeance。
　The　pretty　serving　wench　returned　with　another　bottle　of　wine；　more　bread　and　meat　to　replace　what　Gaborn　had　taken。
　Gaborn　spoke　to　the　back　of　her　neck。　〃Pardon　me。　I　am　Prince　Orden。　I　need　to　reach　the　river。　Do　you　know　of　a　passage　I　can　take？〃　Almost　immediately　he　felt　stupid。　I　should　not　have　given　my　name；　he　thought。　Yet　he'd　felt　the　need　to　impress　upon　her　the　nature　of　his　predicament；　and　revealing　his　name　was　the　swiftest　way　to　do　so。
　The　girl　looked　at　him；　lamplight　reflecting　in　her　brown　eyes。　Gaborn　wondered　why　she'd　divested　herself　of　feeling。　A　love　affair　gone　awry；　the　desire　to　never　touch　or　be　touched　again？　Life　could　not　he　easy　for　her。　Those　who　gave　endowments　of　touch　could　not　feel　heat　or　cold；　pain　or　pleasure。　All　their　senses　dulled　somewhathearing；　sight；　and　smell。
　Because　of　this；　life　for　them　was　as　empty　as　if　they　were　opium　addicts。　They　would　often　burn　or　cut　themselves；　never　knowing。　In　the　cold　of　winter；　they　could　get　frostbite　and　bear　it　without　tears。
　Gaborn　didn't　know　who　she'd　given　her　endowment　of　touch　towhether　it　had　gone　to　the　King；　to　the　Queen；　or　to　Iome。　Yet　he　felt　certain　that　King　Sylvarresta　would　be　put　to　death。　Possibly　within　hours；　before　dawn。　Unless　Raj　Ahten　wanted　to　torture　the　man　first。
　Would　this　wench　sit　before　a　fire　tonight；　waiting　for　the　first　touch　of　warmth　to　her　skin？　Or　would　she　stand　out　in　the　cold　mists；　feeling　the　play　of　it　over　her　face　？　Certainly　life　could　not　be　easy　for　her。
　〃There's　a　trail　out　back；〃　she　said；　her　voice　surprisingly　husky；　sweet。　〃The　baker's　path　leads　down　to　the　mill。　There　are　some　low　birches　that　sweep　out　over　the　water。　You　might　make　it。〃
　〃Thank　you；〃　Gaborn　said。
　He　turned；　thinking　to　go　out　to　the　courtyard。　He　wanted　to　leave　Castle　Sylvarresta；　but　he　needed　to　strike　a　blow　against　Raj　Ahten。　He'd　seen　dozens　of　forcibles　lying　on　the　green；　where　the　facilitators　had　recently　worked。
　The　forcibles；　forged　from　valuable　blood　metal　from　the　hills　of　Kartish；　were　a　mixture　of　metals　believed　to　be　derived　from　human　blood。　Only　blood　metal　could　be　used　to　make　forcibles。　Gaborn　couldn't　let　Raj　Ahten　have　them。
　But　as　he　turned　to　go；　the　maid　tapped　Gaborn's　shoulder　and　asked；　〃Will　you　take　me　with　you？〃
　Gaborn　saw　fear　in　her　eyes。　〃I　would；〃　he　answered　softly；　〃if　I　thought　it　could　help。　But　you　may　be　safer　here。〃　In　Gaborn's　experience；　Dedicates　were　seldom　very　courageous。　They　were　not　the　type　of　people　to　seize　life；　to　grasp。　They　served　their　lords；　but　served　passively。　He　did　not　know　if　this　girl　would　have　the　emotional　fortitude　necessary　to　make　her　escape。
　〃If　they　kill　the　Queen。。。〃　she　said。　〃The　soldiersthey'll　use　me。　You　know　how　they　take　vengeance　on　captured　Dedicates。〃
　Then　Gaborn　understood　why　she　had　given　up　feeling；　why　she　feared　to　be　touched；　to　be　hurt　again。　She　feared　rape。
　She　was　right。　Raj　Ahten's　soldiers　might　hurt　her。　These　people　who　were　too　weak　to　stand；　or　whose　metabolisms　were　so　slow　they　could　not　blink　more　than　five　times　an　hourall　were　a　part　of　their　Runelord。　They　were　his　invisible　appendages；　the　source　of　his　power。　By　upholding　their　lord；　they　opposed　their　lord's　enemies。
　If　King　Sylvarresta　were　put　to　death；　these　wretches　wouldn't　escape　retribution。
　Gaborn　wanted　to　tell　the　maid　to　stay；　that　he　couldn't　take　her。　Wanted　to　tell　her　how　dangerous　the　trip　would　be。　But　for　her；　perhaps　the　greater　danger　lay　in　remaining　here　in　the　Dedicates'　Keep。
　〃I　plan　to　try　to　swim　out　through　the　river；〃　Gaborn　answered。　〃Can　you　swim？〃
　The　wench　nodded。　〃A　little。〃　She　shook　at　the　thought　of　what　she　planned　to　do。　Her　jaw　trembled。　Tears　filled　her　eyes。　Swimming　would　not　be　a　valuable　skill　here　in　Heredon；　but　in　Mystarria　Gaborn　had　learned　the　finer　points　of　the　arts　from　water　wizards。　He　still　had　protective　spells　cast　over　him　to　help　keep　him　from　drowning。
　Gaborn　leaned　close；　squeezed　her　hand。　〃Be　brave；　now。　You'll　be　all　right。〃
　He　turned　to　leave；　and　she　shouldered　past；　taking　a　loaf　of　bread　for　herself　as　she　scurried　out。　In　the　doorway　she　grabbed　a　walking　stick　and　an　old　shawl；　wrapped　her　head；　and　hurried　out。
　On　a　peg　near　where　the　walking　stick　had　been；　Gaborn　spotted　a　baker's　tunic；　an　article　of　clothing　too　warm　to　be　worn　near　the　ovens。　The　bakers　typically　would　strip　down　to　a　loincloth　while　baking。
　Gaborn　put　on　the　tunic；　a　grimy　thing　that　smelled　of　yeast　and　another　man's　sweat。　He　hung　Sylvarresta's　fine　blue　robe　in　its　place。
　He　looked　now　like　a　menial　servant；　but　for　his　sword　and　poniard。　He　couldn't　help　those。　He'd　need　them。
　He　hurried　into　the　courtyard　to　gather　the　forcibles。　The　clear　evening　sky　had　darkened。　In　the　courtyard；　the　shadows　had　grown　surprisingly　deep。　Guards　were　carrying　torches　out　of　the　guardroom　to　light　the　bailey。
　As　he　got　out　the　door；　Gaborn　saw　his　mistake。　The　great　wooden　gates　to　the　Dedicates'　Keep　lay　open；　and　Raj　Ah　ten's　battle　guard　had　just　ridden　in；　men　who　even　to　the　most　casual　observer　could　be　seen　to　move　with　heightened　speed；　warriors　with　so　many　endowments　that　Gaborn　was　but　a　pale　shadow　in　parison。　All　around　the　courtyard；　Lord　Sylvarresta's　Dedicates　had　gathered；　staring　in　dismay　at　Raj　Ahten's　troops。
　Raj　Ahten　himself；　just　outside　the　gates；　was　leaving　the　keep　with　Lord　Sylvarresta　and　Iome。
　Gaborn　glanced　at　the　ground　in　the　yard。　The　forcibles　he'd　wanted　to　collect　were　gone。　Taken。
　A　warrior　in　the　guard　pinned　Gaborn　with　his　eyes。　Gaborn's　heart　beat　fiercely。　He　shrank　back；　tried　to　remember　his　training　in　the　House　of　Understanding。
　A　wretch。　I'm　a　wretch；　he　wanted　to　say　with　his　whole　body。　Another　miserable　cripple；　in　service　to　Lord　Sylvarresta。　But　the　sword　he　wore　told　another　story。
　A　mute？　A　deaf　man；　one　who　still　hoped　to　fight？
　He　shrank　back　a　pace；　farther　into　the　shadows；　hunched　his　right　shoulder　and　let　his　arm　hang　down；　stared　at　the　ground；　mouth　dropping　open　stupidly。
　〃You！〃　the　guard　said；　spurring　his　stallion　forward。　〃What　is　your　name？〃
　Gaborn　glanced　at　the　Dedicates　around　him；　as　if　unsure　whether　he　was　being　addressed。　The　Dedicates　weren't　armed。　He　could　not　hope　to　blend　in。
　Gaborn　put　on　an　idiot's　grin；　let　his　eyes　go　unfocused。　There　was　a　class　of　person　who　could　be　found　in　a　Dedicates'　Keep　that　he　might　play；　a　servant　who　had　no　attributes　worth　taking；　yet　who　loved　his　lord　and　therefore　performed　what　service　he　could。
　Squinting；　Gaborn　grinned　up　at　the　soldier；　pointed　a　finger　at　his　force　stallion。　〃Ah！　Nice　horse！〃
　〃I　said；　what　is　your　name？〃　the　soldier　demanded。　He　sported　a　slight　Taifan　accent。
　〃Aleson；〃　Gaborn　answered。　〃Aleson　the　Devotee。〃　He　said　〃devotee〃　as　if　it　were　a　lord's　title。　In　fact；　it　was　a　name　given　to　one　rejected　as　a　Dedicate；　one　found　worthless。　He　fumbled　at　his　sword　as　if　trying　to　draw　it。　〃I。。。I'm　going　to　be　a　knight。〃
　Gaborn　managed　to　draw　the　sword　halfway；　as　if　to　show　it　off；　then　shoved　it　back　into　the　scabbard。　The　soldier　would　recognize　fine　steel　if　he　saw　it。
　There；　he　had　his　disguise。　A　mentally　deficient　boy　who　wore　a　sword　as　an　affectation。
　At　that　moment；　a　heavy　wain　pulled　through　the　portcullis；　an　open　wagon　filled　with　men　in　hooded　robesmen　slack…jawed；　with　vacant　eyes；　their　wits　drained。　Men　so　weak　from　granting　brawn　they　could　not　rise；　but　only　lay　exhausted；　arms　hanging　over　the　edge　of　the　wagon。　Men　so　cramped　from　granting　grace　that　every　muscle　seemed　clenchedbacks　curved；　fingers　and　toes　curled　into　useless　claws。
　Raj　Ahten　was　bringing　Dedicates　of　his　own　to　the　keep。　Four　huge　draft　horses　pulled　the　wain。　The　honor　guards'　own　stallions　danced　and　kicked。　There　was　little　room　for　so　many　beasts　here　in　the　square；　not　with　Dedicates　standing　around；　gawking。
　〃That's　a　fine　sword；　boy；〃　the　guard　grumbled　at　Gaborn　as　his　horse　shied　from　the　wagon。　〃Be　careful　you　don't　cut　yourself。〃　His　words　were　a　dismissal；　he　fought　to　move　away　from　the　wagon　without　crushing　the　nearest　bystander。
　Gaborn　shuffled　forward；　knowing　the　surest　way　to　get　rid　of　someone　was　to　hang　on　for　dear　life。　〃Oh；　it's　not　sharp。　Do　you　want　to　see？〃
　The　wagon　halted；　and　Gaborn　saw　Iome's　Maid　of　Honor；　Chemoise；　in　its　very　back；　holding　the　head　of　one　of　the　Dedicates　there。　〃Father；　Father。。。〃　she　cried；　and　then　Gaborn　knew　that　these　were　not　just　any　Dedicates　to　Raj　Ahten；　but　captured　knights；　brought　back　to　their　homeland　as　trophies。　The　man　Chemoise　held　was　in　his　mid…thirties；　hair　of　palest　brown。　Gaborn　watched　the　maid　and　her　father；　wished　that　he　could　save　them。　Wished　he　could　save　this　whole　kingdom。　You　too；　he　vowed　silently；　dazed。　If　I　have　my　way；　I　will　save　you；　too。
　From　out　of　the　shadows　at　Gaborn's　side；　a　heavy　man　in　a　dirty　robe　approached。　He　growled；　〃Aleson；　you　stinking　fool！　Don't　just　stand　in　the　way。　You　didn't　empty　the　Dedicates'　chamber　pots；　like　I　told　you！　e　along　now　and　do　your　job。　Leave　the　good　men　alone。〃
　To　Gaborn's　surprise；　the　fellow　thrust　two　buckets　full　of　feces　and　urine　into　Gaborn's　hand；　then　cuffed　him　on　the　head。　The　buckets　reeked。　For　one　who　had　endowments　of　scent；　the　odor　was　unbearable。　Gaborn　choked　back　his　desire　to　vomit；　twisted　his　neck；　gave　the　man　a　wounded　glare。　The　fellow　was　stout；　with　bushy　brows；　a　short　brown　beard　going　gray。　In　the　shadows　he　looked　like　just　another　Dedicate　in　dirty　robes；　but　Gaborn　recognized　him：　Sylvarresta's　herbalist；　a　powerful　magician；　the　Earth　Warden　Binnesman。
　〃Carry　these　off　to　the　gardens　for　me；　before　it　gets　too　dark；〃　the　herbalist　whispered　viciously；　〃or　you'll　get　another　beating　worse　than　the　last。〃
　Gaborn　saw　what　was　happening。　The　herbalist　knew　that　Raj　Ahten's　scouts　had　his　scent。　But　no　man　with　endowments　of　scent　would　e　too　near　these　buckets。
　Gaborn　held　his　breath；　hefted　the　buckets。
　〃Don't　stub　your　toes　in　the　shadows。　Must　I　watch　you　every　moment？〃　Binnesman　hissed。　He　kept　his　voice　low；　as　if　to　keep　from　being　overheard；　knowing　well　that　each　sol