rj.thepathofdaggers-第99部分

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　not　want　to　form；　then　it　snapped　together　like　pulling　out　of　my　hands。〃
　　　　　　　The　silver…blue　slash　of　a　gateway　rotated　open　atop　one　of　the　bare　hills；　half　a　mile　to　the　west；　and　a　Soldier　pulled　his　horse　through　and　mounted　hurriedly；　returning　from　the　scout。　Even　at　a　distance；　Rand　could　make　out　the　faint　shimmer　of　the　weaves　surrounding　the　gateway　before　they　vanished。　The　rider　had　not　reached　the　bottom　of　the　hill　before　another　gateway　opened　on　the　crest；　and　then　a　third；　a　fourth；　more；　one　after　another；　almost　as　fast　as　the　preceding　man　could　get　out　of　the　way。
　　　　　　　〃But　it　did　form；〃　Rand　said。　So　had　the　scouts'　gateways。　〃If　saidin　is　hard　to　control；　it's　always　hard；　and　it　still　does　what　you　want。〃　But　why　more　difficult　here？　A　question　for　another　time。　Light；　he　wished　Herid　Fel　were　still　alive；　the　old　philosopher　might　have　had　an　answer。　〃Get　back　with　the　others；　Dashiva；〃　he　ordered；　but　the　man　stared　at　him　in　astonishment；　and　he　had　to　repeat　himself　before　the　fellow　let　the　ward　vanish；　jerked　his　horse　around　without　a　salute　and　thumped　the　animal　back　down　the　slope　with　his　heels。
　　　　　　　〃Some　trouble；　my　Lord　Dragon？〃　Anaiyella　simpered。　Ailil　merely　looked　at　Rand　with　flat　eyes。
　　　　　　　Seeing　the　first　scout　on　the　way　toward　Rand；　the　others　fanned　off　to　north　and　south；　where　they　would　join　one　of　the　other　columns。　Finding　them　the　old…fashioned　way　would　be　faster　than　casting　about　with　gateways。　Drawing　rein　in　front　of　Rand；　Nalaam　slapped　fist　to　chest　…　did　he　look　a　bit　wild…eyed？　No　matter。　Saidin　still　did　what　the　man　wielding　it　made　it　do。　Nalaam　saluted　and　gave　his　report。　The　Seanchan　were　not　encamped　ten　miles　away；　they　were　no　more　than　five　or　six　distant；　marching　east。　And　they　had　sul'dam　and　damane　by　the　score。
　　　　　　　Rand　issued　his　orders　as　Nalaam　galloped　away；　and　his　column　began　moving　west。　The　Defenders　and　the　panions　rode　on　either　flank。　The　Legionmen　marched　at　the　rear；　just　behind　Denharad。　A　reminder　to　the　noblewomen；　and　their　armsmen；　if　they　needed　one。　Anaiyella　certainly　looked　over　her　shoulder　often　enough；　and　Ailil's　refusal　to　was　pointed。　Rand　formed　the　main　thrust　of　the　column；　Rand　and　Flinn　and　the　others；　just　as　it　would　be　with　the　other　columns。　Asha'man　to　strike；　and　men　with　steel　to　guard　their　backs　while　they　killed。　The　sun　still　had　a　long　way　to　climb　before　midday。　Nothing　had　changed　to　alter　the　plan。
　　　　　　　Madness　waits　for　some；　Lews　Therin　whispered。　It　creeps　up　on　others。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　Miraj　rode　near　the　head　of　his　army　marching　east　along　a　muddy　road　that　wound　through　hilly　olive　groves　and　patchy　forest。　Not　at　the　head。　A　full　regiment；　most　Seanchan；　rode　between　him　and　the　forward　scouts。　He　had　known　generals　who　wanted　to　be　at　the　very　front。　Most　were　dead。　Most　had　lost　the　battles　they　died　in。　Mud　kept　down　dust；　yet　word　of　an　army　on　the　move　ran　like　wildfire　on　the　Sa'las　Plains；　whatever　the　land。　Here　and　there　among　the　olive　trees　he　spotted　an　overturned　wheelbarrow　or　an　abandoned　pruning　hook；　but　the　workers　had　vanished　long　since。　Luckily；　they　would　avoid　his　opponents　as　much　as　they　did　him。　With　luck；　lacking　raken；　his　opponents　would　not　know　he　was　on　them　until　it　was　too　late。　Kennar　Miraj　did　not　like　trusting　to　luck。
　　　　　　　Aside　from　under…officers　ready　to　produce　maps　or　copy　orders　and　messengers　ready　to　carry　them；　he　rode　acpanied　only　by　Abaldar　Yulan；　small　enough　to　make　his　quite　ordinary　brown　gelding　seem　immense；　a　fiery　man　with　the　nails　of　his　little　fingers　painted　green　who　wore　a　black　wig　to　conceal　his　baldness；　and　Lisaine　Jarath；　a　gray…haired　woman　from　Seandar　itself；　whose　pale　plump　face　and　blue　eyes　were　a　study　in　serenity。　Yulan　was　not　calm；　Miraj's　coal…dark　Captain　of　the　Air　often　wore　a　scowl　for　the　rules　that　seldom　let　him　touch　the　reins　of　a　raken　anymore；　but　today　his　frown　went　bone　deep。　The　sky　was　clear；　perfect　weather　for　raken；　but　by　Suroth's　mand；　none　of　his　fliers　would　be　in　the　saddle　today；　not　here。　There　were　too　few　raken　with　the　Hailene　to　risk　them　unnecessarily。　Lisaine's　calm　troubled　Miraj　more。　More　than　the　senior　der'sul'dam　under　his　mand；　she　was　a　friend　with　whom　he　had　shared　many　a　cup　of　kaf　and　many　a　game　of　stones。　An　animated　woman；　always　bubbling　over　with　enthusiasms　and　amusement。　And　she　was　icy　calm；　as　silent　as　any　sul'dam　he　had　tried　to　question。
　　　　　　　Within　his　sight　were　twenty　damane　flanking　the　horsemen；　each　walking　beside　her　sul'dam's　mount。　The　sul'dam　bobbed　in　their　saddles；　bending　to　pat　a　damane's　head；　straightening　only　to　bend　again　to　stroke　her　hair。　The　damane　looked　steady　enough　to　his　eye；　but　plainly　the　sul'dam　were　on　razor's　edge。　And　ebullient　Lisaine　rode　silent　as　a　stone。
　　　　　　　A　torm　appeared　ahead；　racing　down　the　column。　Well　off　to　the　side；　on　the　edge　of　the　groves；　yet　horses　whickered　and　shied　as　the　bronze…scaled　creature　flowed　past。　A　trained　torm　would　not　attack　horses　…　at　least　not　unless　the　killing　frenzy　overtook　it；　the　reason　torm　were　no　good　in　battle　…　but　horses　trained　to　be　calm　around　torm　were　in　as　short　supply　as　torm　themselves。
　　　　　　　Miraj　sent　a　skinny　under…lieutenant　named　Varek　to　fetch　the　morat'torm's　scouting　report。　Afoot；　and　the　Light　consume　whether　Varek　lost　sei'taer。　He　would　not　waste　time　on　Varek　trying　to　control　a　mount　acquired　locally。　The　man　returned　faster　than　he　went　and　made　a　crisp　bow；　beginning　his　report　before　his　back　was　straight　again。
　　　　　　　〃The　enemy　is　less　than　five　miles　due　east；　my　Lord　Captain…General；　marching　in　our　direction。　They　are　deployed　in　five　columns　spaced　approximately　one　mile　apart。〃
　　　　　　　So　much　for　luck。　But　Miraj　had　considered　how　he　would　attack　forty　thousand　with　only　five　himself；　and　fifty　damane。　Quickly　men　were　galloping　with　orders　to　deploy　to　meet　an　attempted　envelopment；　and　the　regiments　behind　him　began　turning　into　the　groves；　sul'dam　riding　among　them　with　their　damane。
　　　　　　　Gathering　his　cloak　against　a　sudden　cold　wind；　Miraj　noticed　something　that　made　him　feel　colder　still。　Lisaine　was　watching　the　sul'dam　vanish　into　the　trees；　too。　And　she　had　begun　to　sweat。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　Bertome　rode　easily；　letting　the　wind　stream　his　cloak　to　one　side；　but　he　studied　the　forested　country　ahead　with　a　wariness　he　barely　attempted　to　conceal。　Of　his　four　countrymen　at　his　back；　only　Doressin　was　truly　skilled　in　the　Game　of　Houses。　That　fool　Tairen　dog　Weiramon　was　blind；　of　course。　Bertome　glared　at　the　puffed…up　buffoon's　back。　Weiramon　rode　well　ahead　of　the　rest　in　deep　conversation　with　Gedwyn；　and　if　Bertome　needed　any　further　proof　that　the　Tairen　would　smile　at　what　gagged　a　goat；　it　was　how　he　tolerated　that　hot…eyed　young　monster。　He　noticed　Kiril　glancing　sideways　at　him；　and　reined　his　gray　further　from　the　towering　man。　He　had　no　particular　enmity　toward　the　Illianer；　but　he　did　hate　people　looming　over　him。　He　could　not　wait　to　return　to　Cairhien；　where　he　did　not　have　to　be　surrounded　by　ungainly　giants。　Kiril　Drapeneos　was　not　blind；　though；　however　over…tall。　He　had　sent　a　dozen　scouts　forward；　too。　Weiramon　had　sent　one。
　　　　　　　〃Doressin；〃　Bertome　said　softly；　then；　a　little　louder；　〃Doressin；　you　lump！〃
　　　　　　　The　bony　man　gave　a　start　in　his　saddle。　Like　Bertome；　like　the　other　three；　he　had　shaved　and　powdered　the　front　of　his　head；　the　style　of　marking　yourself　like　a　soldier　had　bee　quite　fashionable。　Doressin　should　have　called　him　a　toad　in　return；　the　way　they　had　since　boyhood；　but　instead　he　heeled　his　gelding　up　beside　Bertome's　and　leaned　close。　He　was　worried；　and　letting　it　show；　his　forehead　furrowed　deeply。　〃You　realize　the　Lord　Dragon　means　us　to　die？〃　he　whispered；　glancing　at　the　column　trailing　behind　them。　〃Blood　and　fire；　I　only　listened　to　Colavaere；　but　I　have　known　I　was　a　dead　man　since　he　killed　her。〃
　　　　　　　For　a　moment；　Bertome　eyed　the　column　of　armsmen；　snaking　back　through　the　rolling　hills。　The　trees　were　more　scattered　here　than　ahead；　but　still　enough　to　shield　an　attack　until　it　was　right　on　top　of　you。　The　last　olive　grove　lay　nearly　a　mile　behind。　Weiramon's　men　rode　at　the　fore；　of　course；　in　those　ridiculous　coats　with　their　fat　white…striped　sleeves；　and　then　Kiril's　Illianers　in　enough　green　and　red　to　shame　Tinkers。　His　own　people；　decently　clad　in　dark　blue　beneath　their　breastplates；　were　still　beyond　his　sight　with　Doressin's　and　the　others'；　ahead　only　of　the　pany　of　Legionmen。　Weiramon　had　seemed　surprised　that　the　foot　kept　up；　though　he　had　hardly　set　a　difficult　pace。
　　　　　　　It　was　not　really　the　armsmen　Bertome　glanced　at；　though。　Seven　men　rode　before　even　Weiramon's；　seven　men　with　hard　faces　and　death…cold　eyes；　in　black　coats。　One　wore　a　pin　in　the　shape　of　a　silver　sword　on　his　tall　collar。
　　　　　　　〃An　elaborate　way　to　go　about　it；〃　he　told　Doressin　dryly。　〃And　I　doubt　al'Thor　would　have　sent　those　fellows　with　us；　if　we　were　just　being　fed　into　a　sausage　grinder。〃　Forehead　still　creased；　Doressin　opened　his　mouth　again；　but　Bertome　said；　〃I　need　to　talk　to　the　Tairen。〃　He　disliked　seeing　his　childhood　friend　this　way。　Al'Thor　had　unhinged　him。
　　　　　　　Absorbed　in　one　another；　Weiramon　and　Gedwyn　did　not　hear　him　riding　up　on　them。　Gedwyn　was　idly　playing　with　his　reins；　his　features　cold　with　contempt。　The　Tairen　was　red…faced。　〃I　don't　care　who　you　are；〃　he　was　saying　to　the　black…coated　man　in　a　low；　hard　voice；　spittle　flying；　〃I　won't　take　more　risk　without　a　mand　direct　from　the　lips　of　…　〃
　　　　　　　Abruptly　the　pair　became　aware　of　Bertome；　and　Weiramon's　mouth　snapped　shut。　He　glared　as　if　he　wanted　to　kill　Bertome。　The　Asha'man's　ever…present　smile　melted　away。　The　wind　gusted；　cold　and　sharp　as　clouds　drifted　across　the　sun；　but　no　colder　than　Gedwyn's　sudden　stare。　With　a　small　shock　Bertome　realized　the　man　also　wanted　to　strike　him　dead　on　the　spot。
　　　　　　　Gedwyn's　icily　murderous　gaze　did　not　change；　but　Weiramon's　face　underwent　a　remarkable　transformation。　The　red　faded　slowly　as　he　produced　a　smile　in　an　instant；　an　oily　smile　with　only　a　trace　of　mocking　condescension。　〃I've　been　thinking　about　you；　Bertome；〃　he　s