df.therunelords-第43部分

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　But　would　it　be　good　to　do　so？　Where　did　goodness　fit　in　here？　A　measured　response　seemed　appropriate；　just；　but　the　diagram　suggested　to　Gaborn　that　justice　and　virtue　were　not　the　same。　A　good　man　would　enlarge　the　Domain　of　others；　not　merely　protect　his　own　Domains。　Thus；　when　administering　justice；　one　had　to　choose：　Is　it　better　to　be　a　just　man　at　this　moment；　or　a　good　one？
　Do　I　give　to　the　man　who　robs　me？　Praise　the　man　who　belittles　me？
　If　Gaborn　sought　to　be　good；　he　could　do　little　else。　But　if　he　sought　to　be　a　protector　for　his　people；　was　that　not　also　good？　And　if　he　sought　to　protect　his　people；　he　could　not　afford　to　be　virtuous。
　The　Days'　teachings　seemed　muddling。　Perhaps；　he　thought；　the　Days　hide　these　teachings　from　the　Runelords　out　of　passion。　By。　the　Days'　standards；　it　is　a　hard　thing　for　a　man　to　be　virtuous。　Raj　Ahten　seeks　my　realm。　By　their　standards；　if　I　were　good；　perhaps　I　would　give　it　to　him。
　Yet　that　seemed　wrong。　Perhaps　it　is　a　greater　virtue　for　a　Runelord　to　be　just　and　equitable？
　He　began　to　wonder　if　even　the　Days　understood　the　implications　of　their　diagram。　Perhaps　it　was　not　three　circles　of　Domains；　but　more。　Perhaps　if　he　rearranged　the　individual　types　within　the　Domains；　forming　nine　circles；　he　could　better　gauge　how　to　react　to　an　attempt　at　invasion　for　each。
　He　considered　Raj　Ahten。　The　Wolf　Lord　violated　men's　Domains　at　every　level。　He　took　their　wealth　and　their　homes；　destroyed　families；　murdered；　raped；　and　enslaved。
　Gaborn　needed　to　protect　himself；　his　people；　from　this　beast　who　would　ravage　the　world。　But　he　could　not　simply　frighten　Raj　Ahten　away；　could　not　bully　the　man　or　reason　with　him　or　cow　him　by　denouncing　him　to　the　people。
　The　only　thing　Gaborn　could　do　to　save　his　people　would　be　to　find　a　way　to　kill　Raj　Ahten。
　Gaborn　listened　closely；　asking　Earth　if　that　was　its　will；　but　felt　no　responseno　shaking　of　the　earth；　no　burning　in　his　heart。
　At　the　moment；　Gaborn　could　not　touch　the　Wolf　Lord。　Raj　Ahten　was　too　powerful。　Still；　Gaborn　thought　he　might　spy　on　Raj　Ahten；　maybe　discover　how　best　to　wound　him。　Perhaps　Raj　Ahten　had　prized　Dedicates　he　carried　with　him；　or　perhaps　a　certain　counselor　drove　the　Wolf　Lord　relentlessly　in　pursuit　of　conquest。　Slaying　a　counselor　could　acplish　much。
　Gaborn　might　discover　such　things。　But　he'd　have　to　get　close；　first。　He'd　need　to　find　a　way　into　the　inner　circles　of　the　castle。
　Gaborn　wondered　if　Earth　would　approve。　Should　I　fight　Raj　Ahten？　By　doing　this；　would　I　violate　my　oath？
　It　seemed　a　good　plan；　daring；　to　spy　on　the　Wolf　Lord　and　learn　his　weakness。　Gaborn　had　already　established　some　cover　in　the　Dedicates'　Keep；　as　Aleson　the　Devotee。
　Gaborn　judged　that　if　he　and　Rowan　went　to　the　gate　of　the　Dedicates'　Keep　just　after　dawn；　after　Raj　Ahten's　night　guard　changed；　and　took　some　odd　items　of　spice　with　them；　perhaps　they　could　gain　entry。　All　that　night；　he　lay　awake；　considering。。。
　The　sun　rose　pink　in　the　east；　stirring　a　dawn　chill　as　Gaborn　and　Rowan　left　the　spice　house；　carrying　small　bales　of　parsley　and　peppermint。　A　low　mist　was　creeping　up　from　the　river；　over　the　walls；　making　a　blanket　on　the　fields。　The　rising　sun　dyed　the　blanket　gold。
　Gaborn　stopped　outside　the　door；　tasted　the　mist。　It　had　an　odd　scent；　the　tang　of　sea　salt　where　there　should　be　none。　Almost　he　could　imagine　the　cries　of　gulls　in　that　mist；　and　ships　sailing　from　harbor。　It　made　him　long　for　home；　but　Gaborn　thought　he　just　imagined　the　odd　scent。
　The　sounds　of　morning　were　like　any　other　morning。　The　cattle　and　sheep　were　still　wandering　about　the　city；　and　their　bawling　and　baaing　filled　the　air。　Jackdaws　chatted　noisily　from　their　nests　among　the　chimneys　of　houses。　The　blacksmith's　hammer　rang；　and　from　the　cooking　chamber　in　the　Soldiers'　Keep　one　could　smell　fresh　loaves　baking。　But　overwhelming　the　sumptuous　scent　of　food；　even　the　sea　mist；　was　the　acrid　stench　of　burned　grasses。
　Gaborn　did　not　fear　being　spotted。　He　and　Rowan　were　dressed　like　moners；　anonymous　inhabitants　of　the　castle。
　Rowan　led　Gaborn　up　a　fog…shrouded　street；　until　they　reached　an　old　shack；　a　sort　of　hermitage　on　the　steep　side　of　the　hill；　near　where　the　wizard's　garden　had　stood。　Grapevines　climbed　the　back　wall　of　the　shack。　It　would　take　only　a　minor　freeze　to　bring　out　the　sweetness　in　the　grapes。
　Gaborn　and　Rowan　filled　their　stomachs；　unsure　what　other　food　they　might　get　that　day。　At　the　sound　of　coughing　within　the　hermitage；　Gaborn　got　up；　prepared　to　leave。　Someone　began　thumping　inside　the　cottage；　hobbling　on　a　cane。　It　was　but　a　matter　of　time　before　the　occupant　came　outside　and　discovered　them。
　Gaborn　pulled　Rowan　to　her　feet　just　as　hunting　horns　sounded　over　the　fields　south　of　the　castle。
　This　blare　of　horns　was　followed　immediately　by　grunts　and　shrieks。　Gaborn　climbed　a　little　higher　up　the　hill　to　look　over　the　Outer　Wall；　to　the　mist…shrouded　fields。　The　river　lay　to　the　east；　with　fields　beyond　it。　The　trees　of　the　Dunnwood　sat　on　a　hill　across　the　valley　to　the　south。
　At　the　edge　of　the　wood　on　the　south　hill；　Gaborn　suddenly　spotted　movement　in　the　fog：　the　glint　of　steel　armor；　peaked　helmslances　raised　in　the　air。　Horsemen　rode　at　the　edge　of　the　woods；　cantering　through　the　fog。
　Before　them　raced　a　thousand　nomen；　black　shadows　who　lumbered　over　the　ground　on　all　fours；　shrieking　and　howling　in　terror。　The　nomen　fled　toward　the　castle；　half…blinded　by　daylight。
　There；　Gaborn　saw　a　rider　wearing　the　midnight…blue　livery　of　House　Orden；　with　the　emblem　of　the　green　knight。
　He　could　not　fathom　ithis　father　attacking　the　castle。
　No！　he　wanted　to　shout。
　It　was　a　suicide　charge。　His　father　had　brought　a　few　men　as　a　retinue。　They　had　e　as　a　light　escortmere　decorationnot　prepared　for　war！　They　had　no　siege　engines；　no　wizards　or　ballistas。
　As　Gaborn　realized　all　this；　he　knew　it　hardly　mattered。　His　father　believed　that　Gaborn　was　in　Castle　Sylvarresta　and　that　the　castle　had　fallen。　His　father　would　do　whatever　he　thought　necessary　to　win　back　his　son。
　That　recognition　filled　Gaborn　with　guilt　and　horror；　the　thought　that　his　stubbornness；　his　stupidity；　had　suddenly　put　so　many　people's　lives　in　jeopardy。
　Though　his　father's　soldiers　had　e　as　〃mere　decoration；〃　they　did　not　fight　like　decorations。　The　horses　plunged　downhill；　churning　the　fog；　their　horsemen's　axes　were　raised　high　overhead。　Gaborn　saw　nomen　running；　naked；　fleeing　the　knights'　axes。　They　shrieked　in　horror；　their　yellow　fangs　gaping　wide。　Some　nomen　turned；　set　their　spear　butts　in　the　mud。
　His　father's　knights　surged　forward　on　armored　horses；　lances　shattering；　axes　falling；　blood　and　mud　and　fur　filling　the　air；　along　with　the　howls　of　nomen；　the　screams　of　the　dying。
　Hoofbeats　thundered　from　the　south。　Hundreds　of　voices　rose　in　a　shout；　the　battle　cry　of　〃Orden！　Brave　Orden！〃
　In　answer；　a　tremendous　roar　came　from　the　east。　A　contingent　of　Frowth　giants　rushed　over　the　fields　on　the　far　side　of　the　river；　making　toward　the　Dunnwood　from　the　eastern　fieldseighty　giants　lumbering　like　moving　hills　in　the　fog。
　Shouts　arose　from　guards　on　the　castle　walls；　the　blare　of　horns　as　Raj　Ahten's　soldiers　were　called　to　battle；　roused　from　their　beds。　Gaborn　feared　Raj　Ahten　would　send　his　own　knights　riding　onto　the　battlefield。　House　Orden　had　at　most　a　contingent　of　two　thousand　men；　unless　his　father　had　managed　to　summon　reinforcements　from　one　of　Sylvarresta's　minor　keeps。
　Almost　as　quickly　as　that　fear　of　Raj　Ahten's　counterattack　arose；　it　was　assuaged。　Gaborn　heard　shouts　at　the　southern　gates；　the　clanking　of　gears　as　Raj　Ahten's　troops　hurried　to　raise　the　drawbridge。　The　fog　in　the　valley　was　so　thick；　Gaborn　could　not　see　if　any　nomen　made　it　over　the　bridge。
　Raj　Ahten　could　not　counterattack　now。　He　could　not　be　certain　what　size　force　House　Orden　had　brought。　If　he　attacked；　he　might　find　himself　ambushed　by　a　force　so　large　he　could　never　withstand　it。　It　was；　after　all；　a　mon　tactic　to　try　to　lure　a　castle's　defenders　out　by　feigning　an　inadequate　force。
　A　contrary　wind　blew　from　the　east；　and　the　fog　suddenly　thickened。　Gaborn　could　see　nothing　more　of　the　battle。　Even　the　giants　disappeared　in　the　mist。
　Yet　he　heard　horses　neigh　in　terror；　the　battle　cries　of　House　Orden。　On　the　hill　across　the　valley；　horns　soundedtwo　short　blasts；　one　long。　An　order　to　regroup。
　〃e　on！〃　Gaborn　told　Rowan；　and　he　took　her　hand。　Together　they　raced　up　the　streets；　uphill　toward　the　King's　Keep。
　The　city　was　in　chaos。　Raj　Ahten's　troops　were　throwing　on　armor；　rushing　to　man　the　city　walls。
　As　Gaborn　and　Rowan　ran　to　the　King's　Gate；　the　soldiers　were　lowering　the　portcullis　leading　into　the　business　district。　They　ordered　Gaborn　back。
　Five　hundred　of　Raj　Ahten's　troops　rushed　down　from　the　King's　Keep；　trying　to　reach　the　Outer　Walls。　A　small　herd　of　startled　cattle　dashed　this　way　and　that　before　them；　seeking　escape。
　In　the　confusion；　Gaborn　and　Rowan　shouldered　their　bales　of　spices；　raced　through　the　portcullis　into　the　market。
　The　market　district　was　undefended。　Raj　Ahten's　men　had　not　yet　formed　a　plan　for　resisting　attack。　None　of　his　soldiers　had　been　posted　to　specific　turrets。　Watching　the　walls；　Gaborn　saw　dozens　of　soldiers　rush　to　the　catapults；　others　manning　the　towers　at　each　corner　of　the　castlebut　Raj　Ahten's　troops　spread　themselves　thin。　Some　rushed　for　the　Outer　Wall；　others　tried　to　nail　down　defenses　in　the　Dedicates'　Keep。
　Practically　no　one　manned　the　second　wall　of　the　city's　defenses；　the　King's　Wall。
　From　the　plain　belowmingled　with　the　screams　of　nomen；　the　neighing　of　horses　as　they　died；　the　roars　of　giantsthe　knights　of　House　Orden　broke　into　song；　their　deep　voices　celebrating　the　glory　of　war。
　Gaborn's　father　had　always　insisted　that　each　of　his　personal　guard　have　three　endowments　of　Voice；　so　that　orders　could　be　easily　shouted　across　the　battlefields。　Their　death　song　erupted　from　the　fog；　shook　the　very　stones　of　Castle　Sylvarresta；　reverberated　from　hill　to　hill。　It　was　a　song　to　strike　terror　in　the　hearts　of　foe：
　〃Bring　your　honor；　swing　your　sword；
　You　mighty　men　of　Orden。