df.therunelords-第31部分

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hat　night；　as　each　was　set　aflame；　the　cries　were　horrifying；　for　Raj　Ahten　waited　until　the　child's　cries　died　before　he　sent　the　flaming　body　over　the　castle　walls。　Though　the　Sultan　would　not　surrender；　his　own　guards　could　not　bear　to　hear　the　cries；　and　so　his　men　opened　the　gates。　When　Raj　Ahten　entered；　he　took　the　Sultan；　determined　to　make　an　example　of　him。　What　happened　next；　Iome　could　not　say。　Such　things　were　never　discussed　in　civilized　countries。
　But　it　was　known　that　Raj　Ahten　sat　in　judgment　on　the　kings　he　conquered　before　his　wars　were　ever　begun。　He　knew　which　he　would　butcher；　which　he　would　enslave；　which　he　would　make　regents。
　Iome's　heart　pounded。　Her　father　was　an　Oath…Bound　Lord；　a　man　of　decency　and　honor。　In　her　opinion；　he　was　the　most　passionate　ruler　in　all　the　realms　of　Rofehavan。
　And　Raj　Ahten　was　the　blackest　usurper　to　walk　the　earth　in　eight　hundred　years。　He　dealt　with　no　king　as　an　equal；　considered　the　world　his　vassals。　The　two　could　not　share　the　throne　to　Heredon。
　Raj　Ahten　pulled　the　horseman's　warhammer　from　the　sheath　at　his　back。　It　was　a　long…handled　thing；　almost　as　tall　as　he。
　He　planted　its　crossbars　in　the　cobblestones　at　his　feet；　then　clasped　his　hands　on　its　hilt；　leaned　his　chin　on　one　knuckle；　and　smiled　playfully。
　〃We　have　things　between　us；　you　and　I；　Sylvarresta；〃　Raj　Ahten　said。　〃Differences　of　opinion。〃
　He　nodded　toward　the　street　behind　him。　〃Are　these　your　men？〃
　The　huge　wain　Iome　had　seen　clanking　across　the　fields　now　pulled　up　between　the　graystone　shops。　In　the　wagon　were　mensoldiers　all；　one　could　tell　by　their　grim　faces。　As　they　neared　the　lantern；　in　horror　Iome　recognized　some　of　themCorporal　Deliphon；　Swordmaster　Skallery。　Faces　she'd　not　seen　in　years。
　Behind　Iome；　Chemoise　gasped；　cried　out　and　ran　forward。　Her　own　father；　Eremon　Vottania　Solette；　lay　in　the　very　front　of　the　wagon；　a　ruined　man　who　did　not　blink。　His　back　arched　cruelly；　and　his　hands　clutched　in　useless　fists。　He　grimaced　in　pain；　all　his　muscles　were　stiff　and　unyielding　as　rigor　mortis。　Iome　followed　Chemoise　a　few　steps；　but　dared　not　go　nearer　to　Raj　Ahten。
　Yet　even　from　thirty　feet；　she　could　smell　the　stink　and　dirt　on　the　men。　Many　had　eyes　that　stared　vacantly；　stupid。　Some　had　jaws　slack；　from　weariness。　Each　soldier　had　been　drained　of　one　of　the　〃greater〃　endowmentswit；　brawn；　grace；　metabolism；　or　staminaand　thus　made　harmless。
　As　Chemoise　clutched　her　father　to　her　breast　and　cried；　Ault　drew　close　with　a　flickering　torch。　In　the　wavering　light；　the　faces　in　the　wagon　seemed　pale　and　horrible。
　〃Most　of　those　were　once　my　men；〃　King　Sylvarresta　admitted　warily。　〃But　I　released　them　from　service。　They　are　free　soldiers；　Knights　Equitable。　I　am　not　their　lord。〃
　It　was　a　dubious　denial。　Though　all　the　men　in　the　wagon　were　Knights　Equitable；　knights　who　were　sworn　by　oath　to　destroy　all　Wolf　Lords　like　Raj　Ahten；　and　though　such　an　oath　was　considered　to　override　any　other　oath　of　fealty　to　a　single　lord；　the　truth　was　that　Iome's　father　served　as　patron　to　these　knightshe'd　supplied　them　with　the　money　and　arms　needed　to　fulfill　their　quest　to　destroy　Raj　Ahten。　For　him　to　deny　responsibility　for　their　actions　was　like　an　archer　refusing　to　take　the　blame　for　damage　done　by　an　arrow　once　it　had　left　his　bow。
　Raj　Ahten　did　not　accept　the　King's　excuse。　A　grimace　of　pain　crossed　Raj　Ahten's　face；　and　he　looked　away　for　a　moment。　Iome　felt　her　heart　lurch　as　she　saw　tears　glisten　in　Raj　Ahten's　eyes。　〃You　have　done　me　a　great　wrong；〃　Raj　Ahten　said。　〃Your　assassins　killed　my　Dedicates；　slaughtered　my　own　nephew；　and　executed　some　I　considered　to　be　dear　friends；　good　servants。〃
　The　tone　of　his　voice　filled　Iome　with　guilt；　overwhelming　guilt。　She　felt　like　a　child　caught　tormenting　a　kitten。
　It　pained　her　all　the　more　because　Iome　saw　that　Raj　Ahten's　sorrow　seemed　to　be　genuine。　Raj　Ahten　had　loved　his　Dedicates。
　No；　something　in　the　back　of　her　mind　said；　you　must　not　believe　that。
　He　wants　you　to　believe　that。　It　is　only　a　trick；　a　practiced　use　of　Voice。　He　loves　only　the　power　his　people　give。　Yet　she　found　it　difficult　to　cling　to　her　skepticism。
　〃Let　us　go　to　your　throne　room；〃　Raj　Ahten　said。　〃You've　given　me　no　choice　in　the　matter　but　to　e　settle　our　differences。　It　grieves　me　that　we　must　discuss。。。terms　of　surrender。〃
　King　Sylvarresta　nodded；　kept　his　head　bent。　Perspiration　dotted　his　brow。　Iome's　breathing　came　easier。　They　would　talk。　Only　talk。　She　dared　hope　for　leniency。
　With　a　glance　from　Raj　Ahten；　his　guards　rode　into　the　Dedicates'　Keep；　leading　his　horse　into　the　courtyard；　while　Raj　Ahten　headed　down　the　road　toward　the　King's　Keep。
　Iome　followed　behind　her　father；　numb。　Her　slippered　feet　did　not　like　the　rough　paving　stones。　Chemoise　stayed　behind；　following　the　wagon　into　the　bailey　of　the　Dedicates'　Keep；　holding　her　father's　hand；　whispering　words　of　reassurance　to　Eremon　Vottania　Solette。
　Iome；　her　father；　and　the　three　Days　all　followed　Raj　Ahten　through　the　walled　market；　the　richest　street　of　Heredon；　past　the　fine　shops　where　silver　and　gems；　china　and　fine　cloth　were　sold；　down　to　the　King's　Tower。
　The　lanterns　in　the　tower　had　already　been　lit。　It　was；　Iome　had　to　admit；　an　ugly　tower。　A　huge　square　block；　six　stories　tall；　with　nothing　in　the　way　of　adornment　but　the　granite　statues　of　past　kings　that　circled　its　base。　The　statues　themselves　were　enormous　things；　each　sixteen　feet　tall。　Along　the　gutters　atop　the　tower　were　carved　minstrels　and　dancing　gargoyles；　but　the　figures　were　so　small　that　one　could　not　see　them　well　from　the　ground。
　Iome　wanted　to　run；　to　dart　into　an　alley　and　try　to　hide　behind　one　of　the　cows　that　had　bedded　there　for　the　night。　Her　heart　hammered　so　badly。
　When　she　crossed　the　threshold　into　the　King's　Keep；　she　nearly　fainted。　Her　father　held　her　hand；　helped　her　keep　standing。　Iome　wanted　to　vomit；　but　found　herself　following　her　father　up　the　broad　staircases；　five　stories；　until　they　reached　the　King's　chambers。
　Raj　Ahten　led　them　through　the　audience　room；　into　the　huge　throne　room。　The　King's　and　Queen's　thrones　were　made　of　lacquered　wood；　with　cushions　covered　in　scarlet　silk。　Gold　filigree　adorned　the　leaves　carved　into　the　thrones'　arms　and　feet；　and　adorned　the　headboards。　They　were　unimposing　ornaments。　Sylvarresta　had　better　thrones　stored　in　the　attic；　out　the　room　itself　was　enormous；　with　two　sets　of　full…length　oriel　windows　that　looked　north；　south；　and　west　over　the　kingdom。　Two　lanterns　burned　at　each　side　of　the　throne；　and　a　small　fire　danced　in　the　huge　hearth。　The　Wolf　Lord　took　a　seat　on　the　King's　throne；　seeming　fortable　in　his　armor。
　He　nodded　at　King　Sylvarresta。　〃I　trust　my　cousin　Venetta　is　well？　Go　and　fetch　her。　Take　a　moment　to　freshen　up。　We　will　hold　audience　when　you　are　more　fortable。〃　He　waved　at　Sylvarresta's　armor；　an　order　for　him　to　remove　it。
　King　Sylvarresta　nodded；　not　a　sign　of　acknowledgment；　more　a　bending　of　the　neck　in　submission；　then　went　to　the　royal　apartments。　Iome　was　so　frightened；　she　followed　him　rather　than　go　to　her　own　room。
　Neither　the　King's　Days　nor　Iome's　followed。　The　Days　chronicled　every　public　movement　of　their　lords；　but　even　they　did　not　dare　defile　the　sanctity　of　the　Runelords'　bedchamber。
　Instead；　Raj　Ahten's　Days　held　a　convocation　with　the　Days　of　the　royal　family　in　an　ancient　alcove　outside　the　bedchamber；　where　guards　and　servants　often　waited　for　their　lord。　There；　the　Days　stood　speaking　briefly　in　code。　It　was　often　thus　when　Days　from　opposing　kingdoms　met。　Iome　understood　none　of　their　code；　and　simply　closed　the　bedroom　door　on　their　chatter。
　In　the　King's　bedchamber；　Queen　Venetta　Sylvarresta　sat　in　a　chair；　dressed　in　her　finest　robes　and　regalia；　staring　out　the　windows　to　the　south。　Her　back　was　to　the　door。　She'd　been　painting　her　nails　with　a　clear　lacquer。
　She　was　vain；　with　ten　endowments　of　glamourmuch　more　beautiful　than　Iome。　Venetta　had　black　hair　and　an　olive　plexion；　like　Raj　Ahten'sboth　darker　than　Iome's。　The　diadems　in　Venetta's　crown　could　not　match　the　casual　loveliness　of　her　face。　Her　scepter　lay　across　her　lap；　a　gold　column　with　pearls　embedded　in　a　ball　at　one　end。
　〃So；〃　she　sighed　without　turning；　〃you've　lost　our　kingdom。〃　She　sounded　more　hurt　than　Iome　had　ever　heard　her。
　Iome's　father　pulled　off　his　armored　gauntlets；　tossed　them　on　the　huge；　four…poster　bed。
　〃I　told　you　you'd　lose　it；〃　Queen　Sylvarresta　said。　〃You　were　too　soft　to　hold　it。　It　was　only　a　matter　of　time。〃　More　painful　words；　unlike　anything　Iome　had　ever　heard　her　mother　say　before。　Unlike；　Iome　felt　sure；　anything　she'd　ever　said。
　King　Sylvarresta　unstrapped　his　helm；　threw　it　next　to　the　gauntlets；　then　worried　at　the　pins　on　his　vambraces。　〃I'll　not　regret　what　I've　done；〃　he　said。　〃Our　people　grew　up　in　relative　peace。〃
　〃Without　allies；　without　a　strong　king　to　protect　them；〃　Iome's　mother　said。　〃How　much　peace　could　you　have　really　given　them？〃
　The　bitterness　in　the　words　stunned　Iome。　Her　mother　had　always　seemed　calm；　austere；　a　quiet　support　to　her　husband。
　〃We　gave　them　the　best　I　could；〃　her　father　answered。
　〃And　they　love　us　little　enough　in　return。　If　you　were　more　of　a　lord；　they　would　rise　up　in　your　defense。　Your　people　would　fight　beside　you；　beyond　all　hope。〃
　Iome　helped　her　father　remove　his　pauldrons；　then　the　rebrace　from　his　upper　arms。　Within　a　moment；　he　had　his　breastplate　on　the　bed。　Only　then　did　Iome　notice　how　her　father　was　laying　out　the　armor；　like　a　man　of　steel；　lying　facedown；　suffocating　in　the　deep　feather　mattress。
　Venetta　was　right。　King　Sylvarresta　never　got　the　respect；　the　admiration　he　deserved。　An　Oath…Bound　Runelord　should　have　drawn　followers；　should　have　had　the　respect　of　his　people。
　Instead；　those　people　who　gave　endowments　went　to　foreign　kings；　like　King　Orden；　where　they　could　sell　their　attributes　at　a　higher　price。
　A　king　like　Sylvarresta　seldom　got　the　support　he　needed；　unless　a　Wolf　Lord　like　Raj　Ahten　came　along。　Only　when　confronted　with　a　usurper　who　won　his　endowments　through　blackmail　would　good　people　flock　to　the　banner　of　a　king　like　Sylvarresta。
　Of