ggk.thelionsofal-rassan-第103部分

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　　〃Poetry？〃　Miranda　could　remember　saying　to　this　last；　in　the　voice　she　reserved　for　her　most　withering　sarcasm。
　　Rodrigo　had　a　liking　for　verse；　an　ear　for　what　he　heard。　She　did　not；　and　he　knew　it。　He　used　to　torment　her　with　snatches　of　lyrics　in　bed。　She'd　cover　her　head　with　pillows。
　　〃Are　you　in　love　with　this　man？〃　she'd　asked　her　husband　once　in　Fezana　that　winter…more　than　half　jealous；　if　truth　were　told。
　　〃I　suppose　I　am；　in　a　way；〃　Rodrigo　had　replied　after　a　moment。　〃Isn't　it　odd？〃
　　It　wasn't；　really；　Miranda　thought；　on　that　hill　by　Silvenes。　The　low　sun　was　making　it　difficult　to　see　the　two　of　them　now。　There　were　moments　when　she　found　it　impossible　to　tell　them　apart。　She　would　have　thought　she'd　know　Rodrigo　beside　any　man　on　earth；　but　he　was　in　armor　now；　and　far　away；　a　moving　shadow　against　red　light；　and　the　two　men　would　e　together；　circle　and　turn；　very　close；　before　disengaging。　It　was　easy　to　confuse　them　in　these　movements　leading　to　a　death。
　　She　wasn't　ready　to　lose　him。　To　be　alone。
　　It　was　the　wind　that　was　bringing　tears　to　her　eyes。　She　wiped　at　them　with　the　back　of　a　hand；　glancing　sidelong　at　the　other　woman。　Jehane　bet　Ishak　stood　dry…eyed；　white…faced；　never　moving　her　gaze　from　what　was　happening　below。　Miranda　thought　suddenly：　We　have　had　our　years。　I　know　what　it　is　I　will　lose。　She　hasn't　even　had　time　to　gather　memories　against　the　dark。
　　Which　was　the　harder　loss　to　bear？　Were　there　measurements　for　such　things？　Did　it　matter？
　　〃Oh；　love；〃　she　whispered　aloud。　And　then；　to　herself；　a　prayer；　〃Do　not　leave　me　now。〃
　　In　that　moment　she　saw　one　of　them　throw　his　shield。
　　
　　She　would　never　have　thought　there　could　be　beauty　in　something　so　purely　terrifying；　but　she　ought　to　have　known；　remembering　what　they　could　do。　Both　of　them。
　　She　had　seen　them　fight…that　challenge　in　Ragosa；　the　Emin　ha'Nazar；　the　Kindath　Quarter　in　Fezana。　She　ought　to　have　expected　this。
　　Most　of　the　time；　eyes　narrowed　against　the　sun；　Jehane　could　tell　them　apart。　Not　always；　though；　as　they　overlapped　and　merged　and　broke　apart。　They　were　silhouettes　now；　no　more　than　that；　against　the　last　red　disk　of　light。
　　She　suddenly　remembered；　as　if　the　thought　had　somehow　been　given　to　her；　a　cold　night　during　that　campaign　in　the　east　for　Mazur　and　King　Badir。　She'd　heard　the　pany　singing　by　one　of　the　campfires；　to　the　sound　of　Martin's　guitar。　She　had　e　out　from　her　tent；　half　asleep；　wrapped　in　a　cloak。　They　had　made　a　place　for　her　near　the　fire。　Eventually　she　had　sung　a　tune　her　mother　used　to　sing　to　her　in　childhood；　as　Eliane's　own　mother　had　sung　it　for　her。　It　was　such　an　old　song。
　　Both　men　had　been　watching　her　from　across　the　fire　that　night；　Jehane　remembered。　A　strange　memory　now；　but　it　had　e。　She　remembered　the　night；　the　fire；　the　song。
〃Love　is　a　flower
For　the　sweetness　it　gives
Before　it　dies　away。〃
　　The　sun；　red　as　a　flame；　dropped　below　the　western　bank　of　clouds；　underlighting　them；　hanging　on　the　rim　of　the　world。　The　two　men　were　shadow…figures　against　it。　They　circled；　came　together；　circled。　She　could　truly　not　distinguish　them　now；　the　movements　were　so　much　the　same。
　　One　of　them　threw　his　shield。
　　Hurled　it　flat　like　a　discus；　wrong…handed；　straight　at　the　other's　knees。　The　other　man　leaped　to　evade；　almost　did；　was　hit；　fell　awkwardly。　Jehane　caught　her　breath。　The　first　one　drove　straight　forward；　hard；　and　they　were　locked　again；　entangled。
　　〃Rodrigo；〃　said　Miranda　suddenly。
　　The　man　without　a　shield　was　above　the　other；　who　had　fought　to　his　knees。　The　one　on　the　ground　blocked　the　descent　of　a　sword；　was　thrown　back。　Hurled　himself　pletely　over　and　away　on　the　grass；　letting　fall　his　own　shield　to　do　it。　They　engaged；　without　defenses　now；　blades　whipping　and　parrying。　One　body；　almost。　A　creature　of　myth；　some　lost；　fabulous　beast　of　long　ago。　They　pushed　apart。　Two　figures　again；　against　the　sun's　disk。
　　Jehane's　hands　were　up　before　her　mouth。　One　of　the　two　men　threw　himself　against　the　other　again。　Half　the　sun　was　gone　now；　at　the　end　of　the　world。　She　could　see　the　shields　where　they　had　fallen。
　　Someone　hammered　downwards；　was　blocked。　He　broke　free；　feinted　a　thrust；　slashed　across。
　　And　was　not　parried。　Not　this　time。
　　The　long　blade　sank　in。　They　could　see　it　from　on　the　hill。　Jehane　began　to　cry。　The　wounded　man　pulled　free　and　back；　somehow　deflected　another　driving　blow。　Then　he　twisted　suddenly；　one　arm　held　tight　against　his　ribs。　Jehane　saw　him　take　a　quick　step　to　the　side　and　grip　his　sword　in　both　hands。　It　was　upon　them。
Who　knows　love？
Who　says　he　knows　love？
What　is　love；　tell　me。
　　An　old　song。　A　child's　song。
　　And　so；　at　the　last；　from　far　away；　against　the　red　and　failing　light；　she　saw　a　good　man　raise　his　sword　and　she　saw　a　good　man　fall。
　　There　came　a　vast　roaring　sound　from　the　armies。　But　though　she　was　aware　of　this　it　seemed　already　distant　to　Jehane；　and　moving　away；　as　if　a　silence　was　descending　to　cover　the　world。
　　The　man　who　yet　stood　upright　on　the　plain　turned　towards　the　hill　where　the　women　were。　He　let　fall　his　own　blade　onto　the　dark；　trampled　grass。　Holding　a　palm　again　to　his　wounded　side；　he　made　a　gesture…a　small；　helpless　movement…with　his　free　hand。
　　Then　he　turned　away　from　them　to　the　man　lying　on　the　ground　and　he　sank　to　his　knees　beside　him　as　the　sun　went　down。
　　Soon　after　that　the　clouds　began　rolling　in　from　the　west；　blanketing　the　sky。
　　No　sun；　no　moon；　no　stars　over　Al…Rassan。
　　
Epilogue
　　The　rapid　resettlement　of　the　Kindath　munity　of　Sorenica　in　Batiara　was　something　that　could　be　regarded　in　a　number　of　different　ways。　Burned　to　the　ground　nearly　twenty　years　before；　on　the　eve　of　the　disastrous　Jaddite　campaign　against　the　Asharite　homelands　in　the　east；　Sorenica　had　been　rebuilt　and　was　thriving　again。
　　Some　viewed　this　as　a　sad　demonstration　of　the　Kindaths'　desperate　desire　for　roots　and　a　home…any　kind　of　home；　however　precarious。　Others　saw　the　speedy　restoration　of　a　devastated　city　as　emblematic　of　endurance　in　the　face　of　hardships　that　would　have　destroyed　a　people　with　a　lesser　heritage　to　sustain　them。
　　The　Kindath　physician　Alvar　ben　Pellino；　who　had　been　one　of　the　first　to　settle　here　in　his　youth…he　had　pleted　his　studies　at　the　newly　re…established　university…had　a　different　perspective　from　most；　and　a　more　pragmatic　view。
　　Men　and　women　of　all　faiths　struggled　to　find　ways　to　shape　a　life　for　themselves　and　their　children。　When　opportunities　emerged　they　were　grasped。　Sorenica's　revival　was　simply　such　an　opportunity　being　seized。
　　In　the　aftermath　of　their　army's　destruction　twenty　years　ago；　the　Jaddite　princes　of　several　kingdoms　had　been　informed　by　their　spiritual　advisors　that　the　god　had　not　been　pleased　by　the　brutal　attack　on　Sorenica　before　the　fleet　sailed。　The　Kindath　had　not　been　the　real　targets　of　that　holy　war；　the　clerics　solemnly　decreed；　conveniently　forgetting　their　own　role　in　the　massacre。　Sorenica's　destruction；　they　decided；　had　represented　a　failure　of　piety；　a　deviation　from　proper　awareness　of　the　holy　mission　that　lay　ahead。
　　Jad　had　sent　his　punishments：　storm　winds　at　sea；　sickness；　murder　among　princes；　deaths　in　battle　in　far…off；　inhospitable　lands。
　　Those　leaders　and　their　followers　who　finally　came　home　two　long　years　later　had　wearily　agreed　to　make　atonement　for　the　Sorenica　massacre。　The　Kindath　had　been　invited　back；　royal　monies　were　allocated　for　the　rebuilding　of　their　sanctuaries；　markets；　houses；　the　university；　the　harbor；　warehouses；　city　walls。　Taxes　were　remitted　for　all　who　agreed　to　settle　there　in　those　first　years。　The　highest　lords　of　Batiara…many　of　them　the　sons　of　men　who　had　died　in　the　Asharite　homelands…put　their　seals　to　a　long；　clerkly　document　drawn　up　to　attest　to　the　assured　safety　of　Sorenica　and　its　inhabitants。
　　One　did　not　have　to　believe　such　things；　Alvar　ben　Pellino　thought；　striding　quickly　past　the　stalls　of　the　market　towards　the　harbor；　to　have　decided　that　in　an　uncertain；　violent　world；　Sorenica　offered　no　more　risks　than　anywhere　else　and　a　few　benefits　not　otherwise　available。
　　In　his　case；　more　than　a　few　benefits；　in　that　long…ago　year　when　they'd　escaped　the　savagery　that　was　consuming　Esperana　and　Al…Rassan；　tearing　the　peninsula　apart　the　way　wild　beasts　shred　a　carcass。
　　Ben　Pellino　was　well…known　and　well…loved　in　Sorenica。　Hasten　as　he　might；　his　progress　towards　the　harbor　was　slow。　Every　few　steps　he　was　forced　to　stop　and　exchange　pleasantries　with　someone　or　another。　A　surprising　number　of　men　and　women　wished　him　the　moons'　blessing　on　his　fortieth　birth　day。　The　Kindath；　with　their　charts　of　birth；　paid　more　attention　to　such　days　than　his　own　people　had：　a　small　adjustment　among　larger　ones。
　　It　was　his　daughters；　Alvar　gradually　understood；　who　had　been　busily　informing　everyone。　Ruefully　smiling；　he　acknowledged　all　the　good　wishes；　agreeing　with　cheerful　suggestions　that　his　youth　was　now　behind　him。
　　He'd　had　a　highly　dramatic　life　in　his　early　years　and　people　knew　something　of　that。　He'd　been　a　Horseman　and　even　a　royal　herald　in　Valledo；　before　ing　away　from　that　peninsula；　adopting　the　Kindath　faith　and　beginning　his　training　in　medicine。
　　He　was　much　sought　after　and　trusted　as　a　physician：　calm；　learned；　reassuring。　A　steady　hand　and　eye　in　surgery。　His　services　had　once　been　in　demand　among　the　mercenary　armies　of　Batiara　but　he　had　never　gone　with　the　soldiers；　ever。　A　season's　summons　to　a　princely　court　he　would　accept…to　deliver　children；　attend　to　gout；　couch　cataracts…but　never　a　position　with　an　army　in　the　field。　Had　he　wanted　to　tread　or　ride　a　battlefield；　ben　Pellino　said　calmly　to　all　who　asked；　he　would　still　be　a　Horseman　in　the　army　of　Ramiro　the　Great　of　Esperana。
　　He　was　a　doctor；　he　said；　and　his　labor　was　preserving　and　easing　life。　He　would　not；　given　a　choice；　freely　venture　into　death's　own　domain　of　war。
　　His　wife　did　so；　however。　Also　a　physician…an　even　better　one　in　the　view　of　some；　since　she'd　been　trained　from　childhood　by　her　celebrated　father…she　was　not　averse　to　a　campaign　or　tw