fs.thefirstbookofswords-第25部分

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　　　Mark　turned　his　head　halfway。　〃I　don't　know。　Help　me　get　the　sword　out；　it's　stuck　in；　way　down　here。〃
　　　〃You　see　what　happened？　I　didn't。〃　Without　waiting　for　an　answer；　Ben　planted　his　columnar　legs　close　beside　the　plated　belly　of　the　beast；　then　raised　both　hands　to　get　leverage　on　one　of　the　dragon's　upper　limbs；　which　appeared　to　be　already　stiffening。　Grunting；　he　heaved　upward　on　the　leg。
　　　Mark　tugged　simultaneously　at　the　sword's　handle；　and　felt　it　slide　a　few　centimeters　toward　him。　〃Once　more。　〃
　　　Another　bined　effort　moved　the　hilt　enough　to　bring　it　out　into　full　view。　When　Ben　saw　it；　he　bent　down　and　took　hold　…　there　was　room　on　that　hilt　for　only　one　of　his　hands。　One　was　enough。　With　a　savage　twist　he　brought　the　blade　right　out；　cutting　its　own　way　through　flesh　and　scale；　bringing　another　flow　of　blood。　The　colors　of　the　blood　were　dulling　quickly　now。
　　　As　soon　as　Ben　had　the　sword　free；　he　dropped　it　in　the　mud；　and　stood　there　rubbing　the　fingers　of　the　hand　with　which　he'd　pulled　it　out。　〃I　felt　it；〃　he　muttered；　sounding　somewhat　alarmed。　He　didn't　specify　just　what　it　was　he'd　felt。
　　　〃It's　all　right；〃　said　Mark。　He　picked　up　the　weapon　and　wiped　it　with　some　handy　leaves。　His　hands　were　and　remained　black　with　mud；　but；　as　before；　the　sword　was　clean　again　with　almost　no　effort　at　all。
　　　Mark　became　motionless；　staring　at　the　hilt。　It　showed　no　castle　wall；　but　the　white　outline　of　a　stylized　dragon。
　　　Ben　wasn't　looking　at　the　sword；　but　staring　at　Mark's　face。　〃You　got　burned；〃　Ben　said　softly。　〃You　must　have　been　close。　Where's　Nestor？〃
　　　〃I　haven't　seen　him。　Yes；　I　was　close。　I　was　the　one　who　held　the　sword。　This　sword。　But　this　isn't　mine。　Where's　mine？〃　As　he　spoke；　Mark　rose　slowly　to　his　feet。　His　voice　that　had　been　calm　was　on　the　verge　of　breaking。
　　　Ben　stared　at　him。　There　was　a　sound　nearby；　and　they　both　turned　quickly　to　see　Barbara。　She　was　as　muddy　and　bedraggled　as　they　were；　carrying　her　hatchet　in　one　hand；　sling　in　the　other。
　　　〃Where's　Nestor？〃　she　asked；　predictably。
　　　Haltingly；　his　mind　still　numbed　by　the　fact　that　his　sword　was　gone；　Mark　recounted　his　version　of　events　since　the　wagon　had　tipped　over。　They　looked　at　him；　and　at　the　sword；　then　Barbara　took　the　weapon　from　his　hands；　and　pressed　gently　with　the　point　right　on　the　middle　of　one　of　the　dragon's　thickest　scales。　There　was　a　spark　from　the　steel。　With　a　faint；　shrill　sound；　the　blade　sank　in　as　into　butter。
　　　Mark　said：　〃That　looks　almost　exactly　like　my　sword；　but　it　must　be　Nestor's。　Where's　mine？〃　The　feeling　of　shock　that　had　paralyzed　him　was　suddenly　gone；　and　he　ran　to　search　amid　the　jumbled　contents　of　the　wagon。　He　couldn't　find　the　sword　there；　or　anywhere　nearby。　The　others　followed　him；　looking　for　Nestor；　but　he　was　not　to　be　found　either；　alive　or　dead。　They　called　his　name；　at　first　softly；　then　with　increasing　boldness。　The　only　bodies　to　be　found　were　those　of　soldiers；　mangled　by　the　landwalker　before　it　had　been　killed。
　　　〃If　he's　gone；〃　said　Mark；　〃I　wonder　if　he　took　my　sword？〃
　　　He　might　have；　by　mistake；　they　decided　…　no　one　thought　it　would　make　sense　for　Nestor　to　take　Mark's　weapon　and　deliberately　leave　his　own　behind。
　　　〃But　where'd　he　go？〃
　　　〃Maybe　the　soldiers　got　him。　And　the　other　sword。〃
　　　〃They　were　in　a　blind　panic；　just　getting　out　of　here。　The　ones　who're　still　alive　are　running　yet。〃
　　　Dead　riding…beasts　were　lying　about　too；　and　some　severely　injured。　Ben　dispatched　these　with　his　club。　The　team　of　loadbeasts　was　still　attached　to　the　spilled　wagon；　and　fortunately　did　not　appear　to　be　seriously　hurt。　The　human　survivors；　pushing　together；　tipped　the　wagon　back　on　its　wheels　again；　and　saw　that　all　four　wheels　still　would　roll。
　　　While　Mark　continued　a　fruitless　search　for　his　sword；　the　others　reloaded　cargo；　throwing　essentials；　valuables；　and　junk　all　back　into　the　wagon。　They　reloaded　the　now　empty　frogcrock；　and　at　last　the　tumbled　dragon…cage。
　　　Barbara　paused　with　her　hand　on　the　cage；　whose　forlorn　occupant　still　keened。　〃Do　you　suppose　the　big　ones　came　after　this？　They　must　have　heard　it　yelping。〃
　　　Ben　shook　his　head　decisively。　〃Never　knew　dragons　to　act　that　way。　Big　ones　don't　care　about　a　small　one；　except　maybe　to　eat　it　if　they're　hungry；　which　they　usually　are。〃　Ben　was　worried；　but　not　about　dragons。　〃If　Nestor's　gone；　what're　we　going　to　do？〃
　　　Barbara　said：　〃We've　looked　everywhere　around　here。　Either　he's　still　running；　or　else　he　got　hurt　or　killed　and　washed　down　the　river。　I　can't　think　of　anything　else。〃
　　　〃Or；〃　said　Mark；　ing　back　toward　the　others　in　his　vain　seeking；　〃the　soldiers　got　him　after　all。　And　my　sword　with　him。〃
　　　They　all　looked　once　more　for　Nestor　and　the　sword。　They　even　followed　the　river　downstream　for　a　little　distance。　It　seemed　plain　that　a　body　drifting　in　this　stream　would　catch　in　shallows　or　on　a　rock　before　it　had　gone　very　far。　Still　there　was　no　sign　of　man　or　weapon。
　　　At　last　Barbara　was　the　decisive　one。　〃If　the　soldiers　did　get　him；　he's　gone；　and　if　he's　dead　he's　dead。　If　he's　still　running；　well；　we　can't　catch　him　when　we've　got　no　idea　which　way　he　went。　We'd　better　get　ourselves　out　of　here。　More　soldiers　could　e　back。　Einar；　your　sword's　just　not　here　either。　If　Nestor's　got　it；　and　he　catches　up　with　us；　you'll　get　it　back。〃
　　　〃Where'll　we　go？〃　Ben　sounded　almost　like　a　child。
　　　She　answered　firmly：　〃On　to　Sir　Andrew's。　If　Nestor　is　going　to　e　looking　for　us　anywhere；　it'll　be　there。〃
　　　〃But　what'll　we　say　when　we　get　there？　What'll　we　do？　Sir　Andrew's　expecting　Nestor。〃
　　　〃We'll　say　he's　delayed。〃　Barbara　patted　Ben's　arm　hard；　encouragingly。　〃Anyway；　we've　still　got　Nestor's　sword。　You　can　kill　dragons　with　it　if　you　have　to；　can't　you？　If　little　Einar　here　can　do　it。〃
Ben　looked；　if　not　frightened；　at　least　doubtful。　〃I　guess　we　can　talk　about　that　on　the　way。〃
Chapter　8
　　　Two　men　were　sitting　in　Kind　Sir　Andrew's　dungeon。　One；　who　was　young；　perched　on　a　painted　stool　just　inside　the　bars　of　a　modious　whitewashed　cell。　The　other　man　was　older；　better　dressed；　and　occupied　a　similar　seat　not　very　far　outside　the　bars。　He　was　reading　aloud　to　the　prisoner　out　of　an　ancient　book。　To　right　and　left　were　half　a　dozen　other　cells；　all　apparently　unoccupied；　all　clean　and　whitewashed；　all　surprisingly　light　and　airy　for　apartments　in　a　dungeon。　Though　this　level　of　the　castle　was　half　underground；　there　were　windows　set　high　in　the　end　wall　of　the　large　untenanted　cell　at　the　far　end　of　the　row。
　　　At　a　somewhat　greater　distance；　down　a　branching；　stonevaulted；　cross　corridor；　were　other　cells　that　gave　evidence　of　habitation；　though　not　by　human　beings。　Sir　Andrew　had　caused　that　more　remote　portion　of　his　dungeon　to　be　converted　into　a　kind　of　bestiary；　now　housing　birds　and　beasts　of　varied　types；　whose　confinement　had　required　the　weaving　of　cord　nets　across　the　original　heavy　gratings　of　the　cell　doors　and　windows。
　　　Yes；　there　were　more　windows　in　that　wing。　You　could　tell　by　the　amount　of　light　along　the　corridor　that　way。　The　young　man　on　the　stool　inside　the　cell；　who　was　currently　the　only　human　inmate　in　the　whole　dungeon；　and　who　was　supposed　to　be　listening　to　the　reading；　kept　looking　about　him　with　a　kind　of　chronic　wonder；　at　windows　and　certain　other　surprises。　The　young　man's　name　was　at　least　that　was　the　only　name　he　could　remember　for　himself。　He　was　thin…faced　and　thin…boned；　and　had　lank；　dark；　thinning　hair。　His　clothes　were　ragged；　and　his　weathered　plexion　showed　that　he　had　not　been　an　indoor　prisoner　for　any　length　of　recent　time。　He　had　quick　eyes　…　quick　nervous　hands　as　well；　hands　that　now　and　then　rubbed　at　his　wrists　as　if　he　were　still　in　need　of　reassurance　that　they　were　not　bound。　Every　now　and　then　he　would　raise　his　head　and　turn　it；　distracted　by　the　small　cheerful　cries　that　came　from　his　fellow　prisoners　down　the　corridor。
　　　Kaparu　was　no　stranger　to　the　inside　of　jails　and　dungeons；　but　never　in　all　his　wanderings　had　he　previously　encountered　or　even　imagined　a　jail　like　this。　To　begin　with；　light　and　air　were　present　in　quite　astonishing　quantities。　Yes；　the　large　cell　at　the　end　of　the　row　had　real　windows；　man…sized　slits　extending　through　the　whole　thickness　of　the　lower　castle　wall；　like　tunnels　open　to　the　bright　late　summer　afternoon。　The　way　it　looked；　the　last　prisoner　put　in　there　might　just　have　walked　out　through　the　window。　In　through　those　embrasures　came　not　only　air　and　light；　but　additional　cheerful　sounds。　Outside　on　Sir　Andrew's　green　the　fair　was　getting　under　way。
　　　There　was　also　a　sound；　ing　from　somewhere　else　in　the　dungeon；　of　water　dripping。　But　somehow；　in　this　clean；　white　interior；　the　sound　suggested　not　dankness　and　slow　time；　but　rather　the　outdoor　gurgle　of　a　brook。　Or；　more　aptly；　the　lapping　of　a　lake。　The　castle　stood　on　a　modest　rise　of　ground；　the　highest　in　the　immediate　neighborhood；　but　its　back　was　to　a　sizable　lake；　whose　surface　level　was　only　a　little　lower　than　this　dungeon　floor。
　　　Resting　on　the　floor　of　the　prisoner's　cell；　not　far　from　the　fe