rj.thepathofdaggers-第110部分
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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
