tg.stone of tears-第61部分

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thing：　the　truth　that　he　wasn’t　good　enough　for　her。　‘I　guess　so。　But　I　don’t　like　wearing　a　collar。　Not　one　bit。’
　
　He　was　sick　of　talking。　His　chest　hurt。　His　muscles　were　all　cramped。　He　was　tired。　He　missed　Kahlan。　But　Kahlan　had　made　him　put　on　a　collar　and　sent　him　away。　He　let　his　horse　and　the　one　tethered　to　his　saddle　fall　back　to　trail　behind　the　Sister’s　once　more　as　tears　ran　down　his　cheeks；　feeling　like　ice　on　his　skin。
　
　He　rode　in　silence。　His　horse　tore　off　wads　of　grass　and　chewed　as　it　plodded　along。　Ordinarily；　Richard　wouldn’t　have　let　his　horse　eat　while　it　had　a　bit　in　its　mouth。　It　couldn’t　chew　properly　with　the　bit；　and　could　end　up　with　colic。　You　could　lose　a　good　horse　to　colic。　Instead　of　stopping　it；　Richard　stroked　its　warm　neck　and　gave　reassuring　pats。
　
　It　felt　good　to　have　pany　that　didn’t　tell　him　he　was　stupid；　pany　that　didn’t　judge　or　make　demands。　He　didn’t　feel　like　doing　the　same　to　the　horse。　Better　to　be　a　horse　than　a　man；　he　thought。　Walk；　turn；　stop。　Nothing　more。　Better　to　be　anything　than　what　he　was。
　
　Despite　what　Sister　Verna　said；　he　knew　he　was　nothing　more　than　a　captive。　Nothing　she　said　could　change　that。
　
　If　he　was　ever　going　to　be　set　free；　he　would　have　to　learn　to　control　the　gift。　Once　the　Sisters　were　satisfied　he　could　control　the　gift；　maybe　they　would　free　him。　If　Kahlan　didn’t　want　him；　at　least　he　would　be　free。
　
　That　was　what　he　would　do；　he　decided。　Learn　to　use　the　gift　as　fast　as　he　could；　so　he　could　get　the　collar　off　and　be　set　free。　Zedd　had　always　told　him　he　was　a　fast　learner。　He　would　learn　everything。　Besides；　he　had　always　liked　learning。　He　had　always　wanted　to　know　more。　There　was　never　enough　for　him。　He　brightened　the　slightest　bit　at　the　idea。　He　liked　learning　new　things。　Maybe　it　wouldn’t　be　so　bad。　He　could　do　it。　Besides；　what　else　was　there？
　
　He　thought　of　the　way　Denna　trained　him；　taught　him。
　
　His　mood　sank。　He　was　just　deluding　himself。　They　would　never　set　him　free。　He　wasn’t　going　to　learn　because　he　wanted　to；　or　what　he　wanted　to；　he　was　going　to　learn　what　the　Sisters　of　the　Light　wanted　him　to　learn；　and　he　didn’t　necessarily　believe　that　what　they　taught　was　the　truth。　They　were　going　to　teach　him　about　pain。　It　was　hopeless。
　
　He　rode　with　his　dark；　brooding　thoughts。　He　was　the　Seeker。　The　bringer　of　death。
　
　Every　time　he　killed　someone　with　the　Sword　of　Truth；　he　knew　that　that　was　what　he　was。　That　was　what　the　Seeker　did；　what　the　Seeker　was：　the　bringer　of　death。
　
　As　the　sky　began　flaming　into　pinks；　yellows；　and　golds；　he　noticed　white　patches　in　the　distance　ahead。　It　wasn’t　snow；　the　snow　hadn’t　stuck。　Besides；　these　things　moved。　Sister　Verna　didn’t　say　anything　about　them；　she　simply　rode　along。　The　sun　at　their　backs　sent　long　shadows　ahead　of　them。　For　the　first　time；　Richard　realized　they　were　traveling　east。
　
　When　they　were　closer；　he　recognized　the　white　forms　spread　across　their　way；　turning　pink　in　the　last　rays　of　the　sun。　It　was　a　small　flock　of　sheep。　As　they　passed　among　them；　Richard　saw　that　the　people　tending　the　animals　were　Bantak。　He　recognized　their　manner　of　dress。
　
　Three　Bantak　men　approached　to　the　side　of　Richard；　ignoring　Sister　Verna。　They　mumbled　something　he　didn’t　understand；　but　their　words　and　faces　seemed　to　hold　a　certain　reverence。　The　three　dropped　to　their　knees　and　bowed　down；　stretching　their　arms　out；　their　hands　on　the　ground　toward　him。　Richard　slowed　his　horse　to　a　walk　as　he　looked　down　at　them。　They　came　back　up　on　their　knees；　chattering　at　him；　but　he　didn’t　understand　the　words。
　
　Richard　lifted　his　hand　in　greeting。　It　seemed　to　satisfy　them。　The　three　broke　into　grins　and　bowed　a　few　more　times　as　he　rode　past。　They　came　to　their　feet　and　trotted　next　to　his　horse；　attempting　to　push　things　into　his　hands：　bread；　fruit；　strips　of　dried　meat；　a　drab；　dirty　scarf；　necklaces　made　of　teeth；　bone　and　beads；　even　their　shepherd’s　crooks。
　
　Richard　forced　a　smile　and；　with　signs　he　thought　they　would　understand；　tried　to　decline　the　offers　without　offending　the　men。　One　of　the　three　was　particularly　insistent　he　take　a　melon；　offering　it　repeatedly。　Richard　didn’t　want　trouble；　so　he　took　the　melon　and　bowed　his　head　several　times。　They　seemed　proud；　nodding　and　bowing　as　he　rode　on。　He　gave　them　a　last　bow　from　his　saddle　as　he　rode　past；　and　slipped　the　melon　into　a　saddlebag。
　
　Sister　Verna　had　her　horse　turned　toward　him；　waiting　for　him　to　catch　up。　She　scowled　as　she　waited。　Richard　didn’t　hurry　his　horse　along；　he　simply　let　it　go　at　its　own　pace。　What　now；　he　wondered。
　
　When　he　finally　reached　her；　she　leaned　toward　him。　‘Why　are　they　saying　those　things！’
　
　‘What　things？　I　don’t　understand　their　language。’
　
　She　gritted　her　teeth。　They　think　you　are　a　wizard。　Why　would　they　think　that？　Why！’
　
　Richard　shrugged。　‘I　would　guess　it’s　because　that’s　what　I　told　them。’
　
　‘What！’　She　pushed　the　hood　of　her　cloak　back。　‘You　are　not　a　wizard！　You　have　no　right　telling　them　you　are！　You　lied！’
　
　Richard　folded　his　wrists　over　the　high　pommel　of　the　saddle。　‘You’re　right。　I’m　not　a　wizard。　Yes；　I　told　them　a　lie。’
　
　‘Lying　is　a　crime　against　the　Creator！’
　
　Richard　heaved　a　weary　sigh。　‘I　did　not　do　it　to　play　at　being　a　wizard。　I　did　it　to　stop　a　war。　It　was　the　only　way　I　could　keep　a　lot　of　people　from　dying。　It　worked　and　no　one　was　hurt。　I　would　do　the　same　thing　again　if　it　would　prevent　killing。’
　
　‘Lying　is　wrong！　The　Creator　hates　lies！’
　
　‘Does　this　Creator　of　yours　like　killing　better？’
　
　Sister　Verna　looked　like　she　was　ready　to　spit　fire　at　him。　‘He　is　everyone’s　Creator。　Not　just　my　Creator。　And　He　hates　lies。’
　
　Richard　calmly　appraised　her　heated　expression。　‘Tell　you　that　himself；　did　he？　e　right　up　and　sit　down　next　to　you　and　say　‘Sister　Verna；　I　want　you　to　know　I　hate　lies’？’
　
　She　ground　her　teeth　and　growled　the　words。　‘Of　course　not。　It　is　written。　Written　in　books。’
　
　‘Ahh。’　Richard　nodded。　‘Well　then；　of　course　it　is　the　truth。　If　it　is　written　in　books；　then　it　has　to　be　true。　Everyone　knows　that　if　something　is　written　down　and　attributed；　then　it　must　be　true。’
　
　Her　eyes　were　fire。　‘You　treat　lightly　the　Creator’s　words。’
　
　He　leaned　toward　her；　some　of　his　own　heat　surfacing。　‘And　you；　Sister　Verna；　treat　lightly　the　lives　of　people　you　consider　heathens。’
　
　She　paused　and　with　an　effort　calmed　herself　a　little。　‘Richard；　you　must　learn　that　lying　is　wrong。　Very　wrong。　It　is　against　the　Creator。　Against　what　we　teach。　You　are　as　much　a　wizard　as　an　infant　is　an　old　man。　Calling　yourself　a　wizard　when　you　are　not　is　a　lie。　A　filthy　lie。　It　is　a　desecration。　You　are　not　a　wizard。’
　
　‘Sister　Verna；　I　know　very　well　that　lying　is　wrong。　I　am　not　in　the　habit　of　going　around　telling　lies；　but　in　perspective；　I　consider　it　preferable　to　people　being　killed。　It　was　the　only　way。’
　
　She　took　a　deep　breath　and　nodded；　causing　the　curls　in　her　brown　hair　to　spring　up　and　down　a　little。　‘Perhaps　you　are　right。　So　long　as　you　know　that　lying　is　wrong。　Don’t　make　a　habit　of　it。　You　are　no　wizard。’
　
　Richard　stared　at　her　as　his　grip　tightened　on　the　reins。　‘I　know　I’m　not　a　wizard；　Sister　Verna。　I　know　exactly　what　I　am。’　He　gave　his　horse’s　ribs　a　squeeze　with　his　legs；　urging　it　ahead。　‘I’m　the　bringer　of　death。’
　
　Her　hand　darted　out　and　snatched　a　fistful　of　his　shirtsleeve；　yanking　him　around　in　his　saddle。　He　snugged　the　reins　back　as　he　was　pulled　around　to　her　wide　eyes。
　
　Her　voice　was　an　urgent　whisper。　‘What　did　you　say？　What　did　you　call　yourself？’
　
　He　gave　her　an　even　look。　‘I’m　the　bringer　of　death。’
　
　‘Who　named　you　that？’
　
　Richard　studied　her　ashen　face。　‘I　know　what　wearing　this　sword　means。　I　know　what　it　is　to　draw　it。　I　know　it　better　than　any　Seeker　before　me　has　known。　It　is　part　of　me；　I　am　part　of　it。　I　used　its　magic　to　kill　the　last　person　who　put　a　collar　around　my　neck。　I　know　what　it　makes　me。　I　lied　to　the　Bantak　because　I　didn’t　want　people　to　be　killed。　But　there　is　another　reason。　The　Bantak　are　a　peaceful　people。　I　did　not　want　them　to　learn　the　horror　of　what　it　means　to　kill。　I　know　all　too　well　that　lesson。　You　killed　Sister　Elizabeth　；　perhaps　you　know；　too。’
　
　‘Who　named　you　‘bringer　of　death’？’　she　pressed。
　
　‘No　one。　I　named　myself；　because　that　is　what　I　do；　what　I　am。　I　am　the　bringer　of　death。’
　
　She　released　her　grip　on　his　shirt。　‘I　see。’
　
　As　she　began　turning　her　horse　around；　he　called　out　her　name　in　a　manding　tone。　It　brought　her　to　a　halt。　‘Why？　Why　do　you　want　to　know　who　named　me　that？　Why　is　it　so　important？’
　
　Her　anger　seemed　to　have　vanished；　and　left　a　shadow　of　fear　in　its　passing。　‘I　told　you　I　read　all　the　prophecies　at　the　palace。　There　is　a　fragment　of　one　that　contains　those　words。　‘He　is　the　bringer　of　death；　and　he　shall　so　name　himself。’’
　
　Richard　narrowed　his　eyes。　And　what　does　the　rest　of　the　prophecy　say？　Did　it　also　say　that　I　will　kill　you；　and　anyone　else　I　have　to；　to　get　this　collar　off？’
　
　She　looked　away　from　his　glare。　‘Prophecies　are　not　for　the　eyes　or　ears　of　the　untrained。’
　
　With　a　sharp　kick；　she　surprised　her　horse　and　sent　it　surging　ahead。　As　he　followed　behind；　Richard　decided　to　let　the　matter　drop。　He　didn’t　care　about　prophecies。　They　were　nothing　more　than　riddles　as　far　as　he　was　concerned；　and　he　hated　riddles。　If　something　was　important　enough　to　need　saying；　why　couch　it　in　riddles？　Riddles　were　stupid　games；　and　not　important。
　
　As　he　rode；　he　wondered　how　many　people　he　was　going　to　have　to　kill　to　get　the　collar　off。　One；　or　a　hundred；　it　didn’t　matter。　His　rage　boiled　at　the　thought　of　being　led　around　by　the　Rada’Han。　He　gritted　his　teeth　at　the　thought。　His　jaw　muscles　flexed　at　the　thought。　His　fists　tightened　on　the　reins。
　
　Bringer　of　death。　He　would　kill　as　many　as　it　took。　He　would　have　the　collar　off；　or　he　would　die　trying。　The　fury；　the　need　to　kill；　surged　through　every　fiber　of　his　being。