df.therunelords-第7部分

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　Chemoise　nodded。　She　knelt；　cleaned　the　blood　bubbling　from　the　corner　of　Drey's　lips　with　the　corner　of　her　gray　skirt。　Dreys　breathed　hard；　filling　his　lungs　with　air　as　if　each　breath　would　be　his　last。
　Iome　marveled。　〃Has　he　been　gasping　like　this　long？〃
　The　physic　shook　his　head；　almost　imperceptibly；　so　that　Chemoise　would　not　see　him　answer。　Dreys　was　dying。
　They　watched　over　him　thus　for　a　long　hour；　with　Dreys　gasping　more　fiercely　for　each　failing　breath；　until；　finally；　he　opened　his　eyes。　He　looked　up　as　if　waking　from　a　troubled　sleep。
　〃Where？〃　he　gasped；　gazing　into　Chemoise's　face。
　〃Where　is　the　book？〃　one　of　the　Castle　Guard　asked。　〃We　got　itgave　it　to　the　King。〃
　Iome　wondered　what　the　guard　was　speaking　about。　Then　blood　gurgled　from　Dreys'　mouth；　and　he　arched　his　back；　reaching　toward　Chemoise；　grasping　her　hand。
　His　breathing　stopped　altogether。
　Chemoise　grabbed　the　sergeant's　head　roughly；　bent　low　and　whispered　fiercely；　〃I　wanted　to　e。　I　wanted　to　see　you　this　morning。。。〃
　Then　Chemoise　burst　into　tears。　The　guards　and　physic　all　moved　away；　leaving　her　a　few　moments　to　speak　some　final　words　of　love；　in　case　his　spirit　had　not　yet　fled　the　dying　body。　When　she　finished；　she　stood。
　Only　Corporal　Clewes　still　waited　at　her　back。　He　drew　his　battle…axe；　saluted　smartly；　touching　the　cross　formed　by　the　blades　to　the　bill　of　his　iron　cap。　He　did　not　salute　to　Iome；　but　to　Chemoise。
　He　sheathed　his　axe　and　said　softly；　repeating　his　earlier　tale；　〃He　called　for　you　as　he　fell；　Chemoise。〃
　Chemoise　startled　at　a　thought；　looked　up　at　Corporal　Clewes　and　said；　〃A　small　miraclethat。　Most　men；　when　so　struck；　only　manage　to　gasp　once　before　they　piddle　on　themselves。〃
　She　wielded　the　truth　like　an　open　palm；　striking　back　at　the　man　who　had　brought　her　the　bad　news。　Then　she　added　more　mildly；　〃But　thank　you；　Corporal　Clewes；　for　a　kind　fantasy　to　ease　a　lady's　pain。〃
　The　corporal　blinked　twice；　turned　away；　heading　toward　the　Guards'　Keep。
　Iome　put　her　hand　on　Chemoise's　back。　〃We'll　get　some　rags；　clean　him　for　burial。〃
　Chemoise　stared　up　at　her；　eyes　going　wide；　as　if　she'd　just　remembered　something　important。　〃No！〃　she　said。　〃Let　someone　else　clean　him。　It　doesn't　matter。　He'shis　spirit　isn't　in　there。　e　on；　I　know　where　it　is！〃
　Chemoise　raced　down　the　street　toward　the　King's　Gate。
　She　led　Iome　and　her　Days　downhill　through　the　markets；　then　past　the　Outer　Gate　to　the　moat。　The　fields　beyond　the　moat　were　already　filling　with　traders　e　for　the　fair；　Southerners　in　their　bright　silk　tents　of　cardinal；　emerald；　and　saffron。　The　Pavilions　sat　arrayed　on　the　south　hill；　up　against　the　edge　of　the　forest；　where　thousands　of　mules　and　horses　from　the　caravans　were　tethered。
　Past　the　moat；　Chemoise　turned　left　and　followed　an　overgrown　trail　beside　the　water　to　a　copse　on　the　east　side　of　the　castle。　A　channel　had　been　dug　from　the　River　Wye　to　fill　the　moat；　this　copse　sat　between　the　channel　and　river。
　From　this　little　rise；　one　could　see　upstream　the　four　remaining　arches　of　the　old　stone　bridge；　spanning　a　river　that　glinted　like　beaten　silver。　Beyond　the　old　bridge　stood　the　new　bridgeone　whose　stonework　was　in　far　better　shape；　but　which　lacked　the　beautiful　statuary　that　adorned　the　older　bridge；　images　of　Heredon's　Runelords　of　old；　fighting　great　battles。
　Iome　had　often　wondered　why　her　father　did　not　destroy　the　old　bridge；　have　the　statues　placed　on　the　new　bridge。　But　looking　at　it　now；　she　understood。　The　old　statues　were　rotting；　the　stone　pitted　by　years　of　exposure　to　ice　and　sun；　eaten　by　the　lichens　that　stained　the　statues　in　vermilion　and　canary　and　dull　green。　There　was　something　picturesque；　something　venerable　about　those　ancient　stones。
　The　place　where　Chemoise　led　Iome　to　look　for　Sergeant　Dreys'　spirit　was　very　quiet。　The　waters　in　the　channel　flowed　as　slowly　as　honey；　as　was　the　custom　in　late　summer。
　The　high　castle　walls　loomed　some　eighty　feet　above　the　copse；　casting　blue　shadows；　bruising　the　waters　of　the　moat。　There　was　no　burbling　or　tinkle。　Pink　water　lilies　bloomed　placidly　in　the　shadows。　No　wind　stirred　the　air。
　The　grass　here　grew　lush。　A　hoary　oak　had　once　spread　its　branches　over　the　river；　but　lightning　had　blasted　it；　and　the　sun　had　bleached　it　white　as　bone。　Beneath　the　oak；　an　ancient　autumn　rose　made　its　bower；　its　trunk　as　thick　as　a　blacksmith's　wrist；　its　old　thorns　as　sharp　as　nails。
　The　rose　climbed　the　oak　some　thirty　feet；　creating　a　natural　bower。　Roses　of　purest　white　hung　above　Chemoise；　like　enormous　stars　in　a　dark…green　sky。
　Chemoise　took　a　place　on　the　grass　beneath　the　rose　bower。　The　lush　grass　here　was　bent。　Iome　imagined　that　it　had　been　used　as　a　bed　for　lovers。
　Iome　glanced　over　her　shoulder　at　her　Days。　The　thin　woman　stood　atop　the　copse；　some　forty　feet　back；　arms　folded；　head　bowed。　Listening。
　Then　Chemoise　did　an　odd　thing　in　the　privacy　afforded　by　the　rosebush：　she　lay　on　the　grass　and　hiked　her　skirts　up　a　little　higher　on　her　hips；　and　just　lay；　with　legs　spread。　It　was　a　shocking　pose；　and　Iome　felt　embarrassed　to　see　such　a　thing。　Chemoise　looked　for　all　the　world　as　if　she　waited　for　a　lover　to　take　her。
　On　the　banks　of　the　river；　frogs　chirped。　A　dragonfly　as　blue　as　if　it　had　been　dipped　in　indigo　flew　near　Chemoise's　knee；　hovered；　flew　away。
　The　air　was　so　still；　so　silent。　It　was　so　beautiful；　Iome　imagined　that　Sergeant　Dreys'　spirit　really　might　e。
　All　through　the　walk　here；　Chemoise　had　remained　calm；　but　suddenly　tears　spilled　over　her　long　lashes；　ran　in　rivulets　down　her　face。
　Iome　lay　beside　the　girl；　put　an　arm　over　her　chest；　held　her；　the　way　that　he　must　have。
　〃You've　been　here　before；　with　him？〃　Iome　asked。
　Chemoise　nodded。　〃Many　times。　We　were　supposed　to　meet　here　this　morning。〃　At　first；　Iome　wondered　howhow　did　they　get　outside　the　city　gates　at　night？　But　of　course　Dreys　was　a　sergeant；　in　the　King's　Guard。
　The　notion　was　scandalous。　As　Iome's　Maid　of　Honor；　it　was　Chemoise's　duty　to　see　that　her　mistress　remained　pure　and　undefiled。　When　Iome　became　betrothed　Chemoise　would　have　to　swear　to　Iome's　virtue。
　Chemoise's　lip　began　trembling。　She　whispered　low　so　that　the　Days　could　not　hear：　〃He　filled　me　with　child；　I　think；　six　weeks　ago。〃　At　the　confession；　Chemoise　reached　up　and　bit　her　own　knuckle；　punishing　herself。　By　carrying　this　child；　Chemoise　brought　dishonor　to　Iome。
　Who　would　believe　any　oath　that　Chemoise　swore；　if　one　could　see　that　she　herself　had　been　defiled？
　Iome's　Days　might　know　that　Iome　was　virtuous；　but　the　Days　was　sworn　to　silence　by　her　own　vows。　She　would　never　reveal　any　detail　so　long　as　Iome　lived。　Only　when　Iome　died　would　the　Days　publish　the　chronicles　of　her　life。
　Iome　shook　her　head　in　dismay。　Ten　days。　In　ten　days　Chemoise　was　to　have　been　married；　and　then　no　one　would　have　been　able　to　prove　that　she'd　been　unchaste。　But　with　her　betrothed　dead；　the　whole　city　would　soon　find　out。
　〃We　can　send　you　away；〃　Iome　said。　〃We　can　send　you　to　my　uncle's　estate　in　Welkshire。　We'll　tell　everyone　that　you're　a　newlywed；　newly　widowed。　No　one　will　know。〃
　'No！〃　Chemoise　blurted。　〃It's　not　my　reputation　I　worry　about。　It's　yours！　Who　will　swear　for　you；　when　you　bee　betrothed？　I　won't　be　able　to！〃
　Plenty　of　women　at　court　can　serve　in　that　capacity；〃　Iome　lied。　If　she　sent　Chemoise　away；　it　could　still　tarnish　Iome's　reputation。　Some　people　might　think　that　Iome　had　disposed　of　her　Maid　of　Honor　in　order　to　hide　her　own　indiscretion。
　But　Iome　couldn't　worry　about　such　things　now；　couldn't　consider　her　own　reputation　when　her　friend　hurt　so。
　〃Maybe；　maybe　you　could　marry　soon？〃　Chemoise　said。　At　nearly　seventeen；　Iome　was　certainly　old　enough。　〃The　Prince　of　Internook　wants　you。　And　thenI've　heardKing　Orden　is　bringing　his　son　for　Hostenfest。。。〃
　Iome　drew　a　sharp　breath。　King　Sylvarresta　had　spoken　to　Iome　several　times　during　the　past　winter；　hinting　that　the　time　would　soon　e　for　her　to　marry。　Now　her　father's　oldest　friend　was　finally　bringing　his　son　to　Heredon。　Iome　knew　full　well　what　that　meantand　she　felt　shocked　that　she'd　not　been　forewarned。　〃When　did　you　hear　this？〃
　〃Two　days　ago；〃　Chemoise　said。　〃King　Orden　sent　word。　Your　father　didn't　want　you　to　know。　He。。。didn't　want　you　to　be　in　an　excitable　humor。〃
　Iome　bit　her　lip。　She　had　no　desire　to　bee　allied　with　King　Orden's　spawnwould　never　have　considered　it　for　a　moment。
　But　if　Iome　accepted　Prince　Orden's　proposal；　then　Chemoise　could　still　fulfill　her　obligation　as　Maid　of　Honor。　So　long　as　no　one　knew　that　Chemoise　carried　a　child；　then　her　sworn　statement　of　Iome's　fidelity　would　not　be　challenged。
　Iome　bristled　at　the　thought。　It　seemed　unfair。　She　wouldn't　consent　to　a　hasty　marriage　just　to　save　her　reputation。
　As　the　anger　flared　in　her；　Iome　stood。　〃e　on；〃　she　said。　〃We're　going　to　see　my　father。〃
　〃Why？〃　Chemoise　asked。
　〃We'll　make　this　Indhopalese　assassin　pay　for　his　murder！〃　Iome　hadn't　realized　what　she　intended　to　do。　But　she　was　angry　now；　angry　with　her　father　for　not　telling　her　about　the　impending　proposal；　angry　with　Chemoise　for　her　embarrassing　lack　of　scruples；　angry　that　Raj　Ahten's　assassins　could　murder　Heredon's　guardsand　that　the　city's　merchants　would　then　beg　their　king　for　clemency。
　Well；　Iome　could　do　something　about　this　mess。
　Chemoise　looked　up。　〃Please；　I　need　to　stay　here。〃
　Then　Iome　understood。　An　old　wives'　tale　said　that　if　a　man　died　while　his　lover　carried　his　child；　the　woman　could　capture　her　lover's　spirit　in　the　unformed　child；　so　that　he　would　be　born　again。　Chemoise　only　needed　to　be　present　at　sunset　in　the　place　where　she'd　first　conceived；　so　that　the　father's　ghost　might　find　her。
　Iome　couldn't　believe　Chemoise　would　put　credence　in　that　old　fable；　yet　she　dared　not　deny　the　girl　such　a　boon。　Letting　her　sleep　under　the　rose　bower　could　do　no　harm；　would　only　cause　Chemoise　to　love　her　babe　more　fiercely。
　〃I'll　see　that　you　e　back　before　sunset；〃　Iome　said。　〃And　you　can　stay　an　hour　after。　If　Dreys　can　e　to　you；　he'll　do　so　then。　But　for　now；　I　must　speak　to　the　King。〃
　Before　speaking　to　the　King；　Iome　took　her　Maid　of　Honor