fs.thefirstbookofswords-第18部分
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ed。 But when Mark standing atop the great rock took a step toward him with lifted sword； he hastily dropped to the ground and backed away。
They know what sword I have here； thought Mark。 They know what it can do。 The Duke has spread the word； and he's offering a reward。 But still the weapon in Mark's hands felt totally dead。 Was there some incantation he had to utter； something he had to do to call out the magic？ What had Kenn been saying； doing； just before the fight？ Mark thought that a less magical person than his brother had probably never lived。
If the two men were not going to leap bravely to the attack； neither were they about to give up。 Both mounted again； they rode side by side all around the rocks where Mark had taken his position； scouting out his strongpoint。 They took their time about making a plete circle of the boulders； pausing now and then to exchange a whisper and a nod。
Mark watched them。 He could think of nothing else to do。 He still had his bow slung on his back； and a few arrows left。 But； looking at the men's faces； marking how their eyes kept ing back to the sword； he felt it would be a bad mistake to put it down。 It was their fear of the sword that held them back。
As if he had been reading Mark's thought； the speaker called to him suddenly： 〃Put it down； boy； and let's talk。 We're not meaning to do you any harm！〃
〃If that's so； then put your own blades down and ride away。 This one is mine。〃
Presently the two did sheathe their knives again； and rode away a little distance toward the road； and Mark's heart dared to rise。 But as soon as the pair were out of easy earshot they stopped for another conference。 This one lasted for several minutes。 Mark could see the gestures of the speechless man； but could not read their meaning。 And Mark's heart sank again when the two dismounted； tied their animals to a bush as if preparing for a long stay； and then strolled back in his direction。 Now the speechless one； moving with a casualness that would not have fooled a child half Mark's age； ambled on past the high rocks。 Soon； with a very casual turn at some meters' distance； he had put himself on the opposite side of the high rocks from his friend and the road。
Meanwhile the talking man was trying to keep Mark's attention engaged。 〃Youngster； there's a reward offered for that sword you got。 We could talk about splitting it between us。 You know； half for you and half for us。 And you to go on free； of course。〃
The first rock thrown by the speechless one missed Mark by a wide margin。 Actually the speaker on the road side of the rocks had to step out of the way of it himself。 Mark could see in the speaker's face how he winced； out of embarrassment at his partner's clumsiness。 Mark had to turn halfway round； to maim sure that he was able to dodge the second thrown stone。 Then he had to face back toward the road again； because the man who talked had once more drawn his knife； and was gamely trying again to scramble up the rock。
As Mark moved forward to counter this frontal attack； a third thrown stone went past his head； a little closer than the previous two。 The climber； once more seeing Townsaver right above his head； dropped off the boulder's flank as he had before。 Again Mark spun around； in time to dodge another missile。
A sound that had begun some time ago now registered in his attention； growing louder。 It was the rumble of wagon wheels； drawing nearer with fair speed。 And now the wagon came into sight； moving southbound on the road； pulled by two loadbeasts and approaching at a brisk pace。 On the wagon's cloth sides large symbols were rather crudely painted。 Mark had seen the wagons of tinkers； priests； and peddlers decorated with signs meant for advertisement and magic； but never signs like these。 Dancing on his boulder； he had no time to puzzle about meanings now； but sang out for help as loudly as he could。
An open seat at the front of the wagon held three people； the one in the middle being a young woman。 All three faces were turned toward the fight； but for a moment it appeared that the wagon was going to rush straight on past。 It did not。 Instead the driver； another wiry man somewhat older than Mark's assailants； cried out to his team and reined in sharply on one side。 The vehicle had already passed the rocks； but now it swerved sharply and came back； leaving the road in a sharp； tilting turn。
When the man at the foot of the rock saw this； he set up his own cry for aid。 〃Help！ We got us a runaway and a thief treed here。 There's a reward； that's a stolen weapon he's got in his hands。〃
His voiceless associate； running back from the far side of the rocks； grunted and waved his arms； achieving nothing but a short distraction。 While Mark； in outrage momentarily greater even than his fear； yelled： 〃Not so！ It's mine！〃
The wagon had braked to a halt in a swirl of dust； a pebble's toss from where Mark stood。 The wiry man who gripped the reins now had his eyes raised judgmatically toward Mark； thinking things over before he acted。 The girl in the middle of the seat had straight black hair； cut short； and a round； button…nosed； somehow impertinent face； looking full of life if not exactly pretty。 On the other side of her； the seat sagged under a heavy…set youth who wore a minstrel's plumed cap； and a look of no great intelligence upon his almost childish face。 In his thick fingers this youth was nursing a lute； which instrument he now slowly and carefully put back into the covered rear portion of the wagon。
In the momentary silence； a thin whining sound arose from somewhere； to fade out again as abruptly as it had begun。 Mark's hopes soared for an instant； but the sound； whatever it had been； had not proceeded from the sword。
His enemy who could speak still urged the wagondriver： 〃Help us get him down； and we'll split the reward。〃
Mark pleaded loudly： 〃I'm no runaway； they're trying to rob me。 This sword is mine。〃
〃Reward？〃 asked the wiry driver。 He squinted from one to another of the two men on foot。
The spokesman nodded。 〃Split 'er right down the middle：'
〃Reward from who？〃
〃Duke Fraktin himself。〃
The driver nodded slowly； ing to his conclusion。 He looked up once more at the anguished Mark； then shook his head。 〃Fetch out the crossbow； Ben … go on； do it； I say。〃
The crossbow produced by the large youth from inside the wagon was bigger than any similar weapon in Mark's limited experience。 He could feel his inward parts constricting at the very sight of it。 Ben cocked it with a direct pull； not using stirrup or crank； and without apparent effort。 Then he loaded a bolt into the groove； and handed the weapon to the driver。
〃Now；〃 said the driver； in his most reasonable voice yet。 And with a faint smile he laid his aim directly on the man who was standing closest to his wagon。 〃You and your partner； mount up。 And ride away。〃
The man who was looking at the wrong end of the crossbow turned color。 He made a tentative motion with his knife； then put it back into its sheath。 He stuttered over an argument； then gave it up in curses。 Meanwhile his speechless panion stood by looking hangdog。
Ben's hands now held a formidable cudgel； and the look on his childish face was woeful but determined。 The young woman； her expressive features all grimness now； had brought out a small hatchet from somewhere。
〃Of course；〃 remarked the wagon…driver distantly； 〃if you two don't want your mounts； we sure could use 'em。〃
The two he was confronting exchanged a look between them。 Then they stalked to where they'd left their animals； and mounted。 With a look back； and a muttering of curses； they rode off along the road to the northeast。
The muscular youth called Ben let out a tremulous sigh； a puffing of relief； and tucked his club away。 The driver carefully watched his two opponents out of sight； then he handed the crossbow back to Ben； who carefully unloaded it； easing the taut cords。
Mark looked more closely at the driver now； and was reminded vaguely of the militia drillmaster he'd once heard shouting mands at Kenn and a hundred others。 But there was kindness in the driver's voice as he said： 〃You can put the sword down now； boy。。。〃
〃It's mine。〃
〃Why； surely。 We don't dispute that。〃 The driver had blue eyes that tended to squint； a nose once broken； and a thick fall of sandy hair。 The muscular youth； looking friendly and overgrown； was regarding Mark with sympathy。 As was the pert girl； who had put away her hatchet。 Mark carefully set the sword down on the rock at his feet and rubbed his fingers； which were cramped from the ferocity with which he'd gripped the hilt。 〃Thank you；〃 he said。
The driver nodded almost formally。 〃You're wele。 My name is Nestor； and I hunt dragons to earn my bread。 This is Barbara sitting next to me； and that's my apprentice； Ben。 You look like maybe you could use a ride somewhere。〃
Again the keening； moaning sound rose faintly。 Mark thought that he could locate it now inside the wagon； some kind of captive animal； he thought； or a pet。
〃My name is Einar；〃 said Mark。 It was a real name； t
