rj.thepathofdaggers-第60部分

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uth；　but　it　was　just　as　well　they　believed。　〃You　will　e　with　me；　Gregorin；〃　he　said　in　a　more　normal　voice。　Still　hard；　though。　Steel　was　all　they　understood；　go　soft；　and　they　would　turn　on　him。　〃And　you；　Marcolin。　The　rest　stay　here。　Dashiva！　Hopwil！〃
　　　　　　　Everyone　not　named　reined　their　horses　back　hurriedly　as　the　two　Asha'man　rode　to　join　Rand；　and　the　Illianers　eyed　the　black…coated　men　as　though　they　would　have　liked　to　remain　behind；　too。　Aside　from　anything　else；　Corlan　Dashiva　was　glowering　and　muttering　under　his　breath　as　he　so　often　did。　Everyone　was　aware　that　saidin　drove　men　mad　sooner　or　later；　and　plain…faced　Dashiva　certainly　looked　the　part；　lank　untrimmed　hair　flying　in　the　wind；　licking　his　lips　and　shaking　his　head。　For　that　matter；　Eben　Hopwil；　just　sixteen　and　still　with　a　few　scattered　blotches　on　his　cheeks；　wore　a　staring　frown　that　gazed　beyond　anything　in　sight。　At　least　Rand　knew　the　why　of　that。
　　　　　　　As　the　Asha'man　drew　near；　Rand　could　not　help　cocking　his　head　to　listen；　though　what　he　listened　for　was　inside　his　head。　Alanna　was　there；　of　course；　neither　the　Void　nor　the　Power　altered　that　a　whisker。　Distance　wore　that　awareness　down　to　just　that　…　awareness　that　she　existed；　somewhere　far　to　the　north　…　yet　there　was　something　more　today；　something　he　had　felt　several　times　recently；　dim　and　barely　on　the　edge　of　notice。　A　whisper　of　shock；　perhaps；　or　outrage；　a　breath　of　something　sharp　he　could　not　quite　grasp。　She　must　feel　whatever　it　was　very　strongly　for　him　to　be　even　that　conscious　of　it　at　this　distance。　Maybe　she　was　missing　him。　A　wry　thought。　He　did　not　miss　her。　Ignoring　Alanna　was　easier　than　it　had　been　once。　She　was　there；　but　not　the　voice　that　used　to　shout　of　death　and　killing　whenever　an　Asha'man　came　into　sight。　Lews　Therin　was　gone。　Unless　that　feel　of　someone　staring　at　the　back　of　his　head；　brushing　his　shoulder　blades　with　a　finger；　was　him。　Was　there　a　madman's　hoarse　laughter　deep　in　his　thoughts？　Or　was　it　his　own？　The　man　had　been　there！　He　had！
　　　　　　　He　became　aware　of　Marcolin　staring　at　him；　and　Gregorin　trying　very　hard　not　to。　〃Not　yet；〃　he　told　them　wryly；　and　almost　laughed　when　they　clearly　understood　right　away。　Relief　was　too　plain　on　their　faces　for　anything　else。　He　was　not　insane。　Yet。　〃e；〃　he　told　them；　and　started　Tai'daishar　down　the　slope　at　a　trot。　Despite　the　men　following；　he　felt　alone。　Despite　the　Power；　he　felt　empty。
　　　　　　　Between　the　ridge　and　the　hills　lay　patches　of　thick　scrub　and　long　stretches　of　dead　grass；　a　glistening　mat　of　brown　and　yellow　beaten　flat　by　the　rain。　Only　a　few　days　ago　the　ground　had　been　so　parched　that　he　had　thought　it　could　drink　a　river　without　changing。　Then　the　torrents　came；　sent　by　the　Creator　finding　mercy　at　last；　or　maybe　by　the　Dark　One　in　a　fit　of　black　humor；　he　did　not　know　which。　Now　the　horses'　hooves　splashed　mud　at　every　second　step。　He　hoped　this　did　not　take　long。　He　had　some　time；　by　what　Hopwil　had　reported；　but　not　forever。　Perhaps　weeks；　if　he　was　lucky。　He　needed　months。　Light；　he　needed　years　he　would　never　have！
　　　　　　　His　hearing　heightened　by　the　Power；　he　could　make　out　some　of　what　the　men　behind　him　were　saying。　Gregorin　and　Marcolin　rode　knee…to…knee；　trying　to　hold　their　cloaks　against　the　wind　and　speaking　in　low　tones　about　the　men　ahead；　about　their　fears　the　men　might　fight。　Neither　doubted　they　would　be　crushed　if　they　resisted；　but　they　feared　the　effect　on　Rand；　and　his　on　Illian；　if　Illianers　fought　him　now　that　Brend　was　dead。　They　still　could　not　bring　themselves　to　give　Brend　his　true　name；　Sammael。　The　very　notion　that　one　of　the　Forsaken　had　ruled　in　Illian　frightened　them　even　more　than　the　fact　that　the　Dragon　Reborn　ruled　there　now。
　　　　　　　Dashiva；　slumped　in　his　gray's　saddle　like　a　man　who　had　never　seen　a　horse　before；　muttered　angrily　under　his　breath。　In　the　Old　Tongue；　which　he　spoke　and　read　as　fluently　as　a　scholar。　Rand　knew　a　little；　though　not　enough　to　understand　what　the　fellow　was　mumbling。　Probably　plaints　about　the　weather；　despite　being　a　farmer；　Dashiva　disliked　being　out…of…doors　unless　the　skies　were　clear。
　　　　　　　Only　Hopwil　rode　in　silence；　frowning　at　something　beyond　the　horizon；　his　hair　and　cloak　whipping　about　as　wildly　as　Dashiva's。　Now　and　then　he　clutched　the　hilt　of　his　sword　unconsciously。　Rand　had　to　speak　three　times；　the　last　sharply；　before　Hopwil　gave　a　surprised　jerk　and　booted　his　lanky　dun　up　beside　Tai'daishar。
　　　　　　　Rand　studied　him。　The　young　man　…　not　a　boy　any　longer；　no　matter　his　age　…　had　filled　out　since　Rand　first　saw　him；　though　his　nose　and　ears　still　seemed　made　for　a　bigger　man。　A　Dragon；　red…enameled　gold；　now　balanced　the　silver　Sword　on　his　high　collar；　just　like　Dashiva's。　Once；　he　had　said　he　would　laugh　a　year　for　joy　when　the　Dragon　was　his；　but　he　stared　unblinking　at　Rand　as　though　looking　through　him。
　　　　　　　〃What　you　learned　was　good　news；〃　Rand　told　him。　Only　an　effort　kept　him　from　trying　to　crush　the　Dragon　Scepter　in　his　fist。　〃You　did　well。〃　He　had　expected　the　Seanchan　to　return；　but　not　so　soon。　He　had　hoped　not　so　soon。　And　not　leaping　out　of　nowhere；　swallowing　cities　at　a　gulp。　When　he　found　out　that　merchants　in　Illian　had　known　for　days　before　any　of　them　thought　to　inform　the　Nine　…　the　Light　forbid　they　should　lose　a　chance　at　profit　because　too　many　knew　too　much！　…　he　had　been　within　a　hair　of　scouring　the　city　to　its　foundations。　But　the　news　was　good；　or　as　good　as　it　could　be　in　the　circumstances。　Hopwil　had　Traveled　to　Amador；　to　the　countryside　nearby；　and　the　Seanchan　appeared　to　be　waiting。　Perhaps　digesting　what　they　had　consumed。　The　Light　send　they　choked　on　it！　He　forced　his　grip　to　loosen　on　the　length　of　Dragon…carved　spearhead。　〃If　Morr　brings　half　as　good；　I　have　time　to　settle　Illian　before　dealing　with　them。〃　Ebou　Dar；　as　well！　The　Light　burn　the　Seanchan！　They　were　a　distraction；　one　he　did　not　need　and　could　not　afford　to　ignore。
　　　　　　　Hopwil　said　nothing；　only　looked。
　　　　　　　〃Are　you　upset　because　you　had　to　kill　women？〃　Desora；　of　the　Musara　Reyn；　and　Lamelle；　of　the　Smoke　Water　Miagoma；　and。。。　Rand　forced　down　the　instinctive　litany　even　as　it　began　floating　across　the　Void。　New　names　had　appeared　on　that　list；　names　he　did　not　remember　adding。　Laigin　Arnault；　a　Red　sister　who　had　died　trying　to　take　him　a　prisoner　to　Tar　Valon。　Surely　she　had　no　right　to　a　place；　but　she　had　claimed　one。　Colavaere　Saighan；　who　had　hanged　herself　rather　than　accept　justice。　Others。　Men　had　died　in　thousands；　by　his　order　or　by　his　hand；　but　it　was　the　faces　of　the　women　that　haunted　his　dreams。　Each　night；　he　made　himself　confront　their　silently　accusing　eyes。　Maybe　it　was　their　eyes　he　had　felt　of　late。
　　　　　　　〃I　told　you　about　damane　and　sul'dam；〃　he　said　calmly；　but　inside　of　him；　rage　flared；　fire　spiderwebbing　around　the　emptiness　of　the　Void。　The　Light　burn　me；　I've　killed　more　women　than　all　your　nightmares　could　hold！　My　hands　are　black　with　the　blood　of　women！　〃If　you　hadn't　wiped　out　that　Seanchan　patrol；　they'd　have　killed　you　for　sure。〃　He　did　not　say　that　Hopwil　should　have　avoided　them；　avoided　the　need　to　kill　them。　Too　late　for　that。　〃I　doubt　that　damane　even　knew　how　to　shield　a　man。　You　had　no　choice。〃　And　better　they　were　all　dead　than　some　escaping　with　word　of　a　man　who　could　channel；　scouting　them。
　　　　　　　Absently；　Hopwil　touched　his　left　sleeve；　where　the　black　color　disguised　fire…scarred　wool。　The　Seanchan　had　not　died　easily　or　fast。　〃I　piled　the　bodies　in　a　hollow；〃　he　said　in　a　flat　voice。　〃The　horses；　everything。　I　burned　it　all　to　ash。　White　ash　that　floated　in　the　wind　like　snow。　It　didn't　bother　me　at　all。〃
　　　　　　　Rand　heard　the　lie　on　the　man's　tongue；　but　Hopwil　had　to　learn。　After　all；　he　had。　They　were　what　they　were；　and　that　was　all　there　was　to　it。　All　there　was。　Liah；　of　the　Cosaida　Chareen；　a　name　written　in　fire。　Moiraine　Damodred；　another　name　that　seared　to　the　soul　rather　than　merely　burning。　A　nameless　Darkfriend；　represented　only　by　a　face；　who　had　died　by　his　sword　near。。。
　　　　　　　〃Majesty；〃　Gregorin　said　loudly；　pointing　ahead。　A　lone　man　came　out　of　the　trees　at　the　foot　of　the　nearest　hill　to　stand　waiting　in　an　attitude　of　defiance。　He　carried　a　bow；　and　wore　a　pointed　steel　cap　and　a　belted　mail　shirt　that　hung　nearly　to　his　knees。
　　　　　　　Rand　spurred　Tai'daishar　to　meet　him　seething　with　the　Power。　Saidin　could　protect　him　from　men。
　　　　　　　Up　close；　the　bowman　did　not　make　so　brave　a　sight。　Rust　streaked　his　helmet　and　mail；　and　he　looked　sodden；　mud　to　his　thighs；　damp　hair　trailing　down　a　narrow　face。　Coughing　hollowly；　he　scrubbed　at　a　long　nose　with　the　back　of　his　hand。　His　bowstring　appeared　taut；　though；　that；　he　had　protected　from　the　rain。　And　the　fletchings　on　the　arrows　in　his　quiver　looked　dry；　too。
　　　　　　　〃Are　you　the　leader　here？〃　Rand　demanded。
　　　　　　　〃You　might　say　I　do　speak　for　him；〃　the　narrow…faced　man　replied　warily。　〃Why？〃　As　the　others　galloped　up　behind　Rand；　he　shifted　his　feet；　dark　eyes　like　a　cornered　badger's。　Badgers　were　dangerous；　cornered。
　　　　　　　〃Watch　your　tongue；　man！〃　Gregorin　snapped。　〃You　do　speak　to　Rand　al'Thor；　the　Dragon　Reborn；　Lord　of　the　Morning　and　King　of　Illian！　Kneel　to　your　King！　What　do　your　name　be？〃
　　　　　　　〃He　do　be　the　Dragon　Reborn？〃　the　fellow　said　doubtfully。　Eyeing　Rand　from　the　crown　on　his　head　to　his　boots；　lingering　a　moment　on　the　gilded　Dragon　buckling　his　sword　belt；　the　man　shook　his　head　as　if　he　had　expected　someone　older；　or　grander。　〃And　Lord　of　the　Morning；　you　do　say？　Our　King　did　never　style　himself　so。〃　He　made　no　move　toward　kneeling；　or　giving　his　name。　Gregorin's　face　darkened　at　the　man's　tone；　and　maybe　at　the　man's　oblique　denial　of　Rand　as　King。　Marcolin　gave　a　slight　nod；　as　though　he　had　expected　no　more。
　　　　　　　Damp　rustlings　stirred　in　the　undergrowth　among　the　trees。　Rand　heard　easily；　and　abruptly　he　felt　saidin　fill　Hopwil。　No　longer　staring　at　nothing；　Hopwil　studied　the　woodline　intently；　a　wild　light　in　his　eyes。　Dashiva；　silent；　raking　dark　hair　out　of　his　face；　looked　bored。　Leaning　forward　in　his　saddle；　Gregorin　opened　his　mouth　angrily。　Fire　and　ice；　but　not　yet　death。
　　　　　　　〃Peace；　Gregorin。〃　Rand　did　not　raise　h