fs.thefirstbookofswords-第38部分

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　　　She　glared　at　each　person　in　the　room　in　turn。　Her　gaze　lingered　longest　on　Mark；　and　he　had　the　sensation　that　something　invisible；　but　palpable　and　evil；　had　passed　near　him。　Then；　with　her　lifted　chin　turned　to　Sir　Andrew；　the　lady　said：　〃I　demand　to　be　released。〃
　　　〃Most　likely　you　soon　will　be。〃　The　knight's　voice　had　turned　cold；　much　changed　from　what　it　had　been。　〃My　investigation　of　what　your　agents　did　at　the　fairgrounds　last　night　is　almost　plete。　If　you　were　not　here　on　business　of　diplomacy；　woman；　you'd　likely　be　down　in　my　dungeon　now。〃
　　　The　lady　chose　not　to　hear　this。　She　tossed　back　dark　hair　imperiously。　〃And　where　is　Hugh　of　Semur？〃
　　　〃That　dog　is　dead。　Diplomat　or　not；　he　succeeded　in　earning　himself　a　broken　neck　last　night。〃
　　　The　dark　lady　demonstrated　shock。　〃Dead！　Then　his　killers　must　be　placed　in　my　custody；　that　I　may　take　them　to　face　the　Duke's　justice。　As　I　must　take　him。〃　She　pointed　a　long　fingernail　at　Mark。　〃And　that　sword　on　the　table。　It　belongs　to　His　Grace　too。〃
　　　〃I　think；　m'lady；　that　you'll　take　precious　little　out　of　my　territory　but　yourself。〃
　　　The　lady　started　to　pretend　surprise　at　this　refusal；　then　shrugged　lightly　and　gave　it　up。　〃It　will　go　ill　for　you；　Sir　Andrew；　if　you　refuse　the　Duke　his　property；　and　his　just　vengeance。　Who　will　guarantee　the　security　of　your　frontiers　if　he　does　not？〃
　　　〃Oh；　ah？　Speaking　of　property；　there's　the　matter　of　the　damage　done　to　some　of　mine　last　night；　and　to　some　of　my　people；　too。　That　fine　coach　that　brought　you　here；　my　fine　Lady　Marat；　should　fetch　something　on　the　market。　Enough；　perhaps；　to　pay　some　of　the　bills　that　you've　run　up　in　damages。　I'll　see　if　I　can　find　a　farm　wagon　somewhere；　and　a　loadbeast　or　two；　to　furnish　you　and　your　servants　transportation　home。　A　somewhat　bumpy　ride；　perhaps；　but。。。〃
　　　Now　indeed　she　flared。　〃Beast　yourself！　How　dare　you　treat　me；　the　Duke's　emissary；　in　such　a　way？　How　dare　you？〃
　　　〃。。。but；　as　I　say；　it　would　be　a　long　way　for　you　to　walk。〃
　　　The　lady　now　had　hard　struggle　to　restrain　her　tongue；　but　she　managed　it　at　last。　After　delivering　one　last　glare　at　each　person　in　the　room；　she　turned　between　her　guards　with　a　fine　swirl　of　glittery　fabrics；　and　with　her　guards　was　gone。
　　　Dame　Yoldi　reached　to　brush　her　fingers　through　Mark's　hair；　it　was　as　if　she　were　only　petting　him；　but　Mark　had　the　sense　that　something；　a　cobweb　maybe；　that　he　had　not　known　was　there；　was　brushed　away。　The　enchantress　smiled　at　him　faintly；　then　closed　her　eyes。　She　held　Mark　by　the　hand；　as　if　she　were　learning　something　from　the　feel　of　his　hand。
　　　〃The　son　of　Jord；〃　she　said；　her　eyes　still　closed。　〃Of　Jord　who　was　a　miller　…　and　before　that；　a　smith。〃
　　　〃Aye；　ma'm。〃
　　　〃Aye；　and　aye。　But　I　wonder　what　else　your　father　was？〃　Dame　Yoldi's　eyes　opened；　large　and　gray　and　luminous。　〃Mark；　in　all　the　world；　your　father　Jord　is；　or　was；　the　only　human　being　ever　to　have　handled　more　than　one　of　the　swords。　And　only　you　yourself　have　ever　handled　as　many　as　three　of　them；　since　their　steel　was　infused　with　the　gods'　magic。　And　a　question　that　has　nagged　at　me　was　answered　here；　last　night；　in　part：　what　would　happen　if　a　person；　a　being　of　any　nature；　were　to　touch　and　use　more　than　one　of　the　swords　at　the　same　time？〃
　　　Dame　Yoldi　paused；　looking　around　at　all　the　people　in　the　room。　〃And　what　if　two　or　more　of　the　gods'　swords　were　to　touch　each　other？　What　if　they　should　be　used　directly　against　each　other　in　battle？〃
　　　No　one　could　answer　her。
　　　All　were　thinking　that　Duke　Fraktin　soon　would　have　two　swords；　unless　his　courier　were　somehow　stopped。
Mark　met　Barbara's　expressive　eyes；　and　knew　what　she　was　thinking：　In　our　old　wagon　we　had　two　swords　at　once；　and　never　tried。。。
Chapter　13
　　　Nestor；　after　making　that　first　parry　in　time　to　save　his　life；　got　quickly　to　his　feet　and　stepped　back　from　the　attacking　larva。　As　it　came　after　him　he　backed　away。　It　continued　to　advance；　limping　even　as　he　had　imagined　it　must　move。　Nestor　was　backing　up　with　cautious　steps　that　took　him　along　the　jagged　edge　of　a　broken　roof。　On　his　left　was　the　paved　courtyard；　seven　meters　below；　sloping　upward　on　his　right　was　the　jumble　of　tilted；　fallen　slabs；　which　would　be　sure　to　offer　abominable　footing。
　　　The　thing　that　limped　after　Nestor　blew　little　moaning　cries　at　him　out　of　its　absence　of　a　face；　as　if　it　might　be　in　agony；　or　perhaps　in　love。　On　the　almost　featureless　front　of　its　head　only　the　dark　eyes　moved　a　little；　staying　locked　on　Nestor。　The　larva　was　advancing　with　its　bent　arms　raised；　both　its　weapons　held　up　near　its　head；　ready　to　parry　a　swordstroke　or　to　swing　at　him　again。　Not　only　were　those　forearms　armed　with　barbed　hook　and　torture…knife；　but　they　were　in　themselves　as　hard　as　bronze。　Nestor　had　a　good　gauge　now　of　that　metallic…hardness；　his　first　edged　parry　had　nicked　and　dented　the　thing's　right　wrist；　but　no　more　than　dented　it。　A　human　arm　would　almost　certainly　have　been　pletely　severed。
　　　After　backing　up　only　a　few　steps　along　the　rim　of　the　roof；　Nestor　decided　retreating　was　more　dangerous　than　standing　his　ground　would　be。　He　was　a　petent　swordsman；　and　the　blade　in　his　hand　a　superb　weapon；　even　when；　as　now；　whatever　magic　it　might　possess　was　in　abeyance。　Why　then　had　he　automatically　retreated；　and　why　did　deep　terror　still　lie　in　his　stomach　like　a　lump　of　ice？　The　terror　must　e；　he　realized；　only　from　the　peculiar　nature　of　his　enemy；　and　not　from　any　powers　that　it　had　so　far　demonstrated。　The　movements　of　his　foe　showed　speed　and　strength　…　but　no　more　speed　or　strength　than　many　human　opponents　might　have　shown。　And　the　larva　was　fighting　with　one　considerable；　obvious　disadvantage　…　though　its　weapons　were　two　in　number；　they　were　no　longer　than　its　arms。　If　Nestor　could　keep　his　nerve　and　his　footing；　and　use　his　own　magnificent　weapon　as　it　deserved　to　be　used；　such　an　attacker　ought　not　to　be　able　to　defeat　him。
　　　On　the　other　hand；　it　was　already　plain　that　the　larva　had　certain　advantages　as　well：　devilish　persistence；　and　a　horrible　durability。　When　Nestor　stood　his　ground　and　struck　back；　landing　a　hard　chop　on　its　torso；　he　had　the　sensation　of　having　hewn　into　frozen　mud。　The　gray　shell　cracked　at　the　spot　where　the　blow　landed；　and　substance　of　a　deeper　gray　began　oozing　out。　But　the　larva　was　not　disabled；　and　it　seemed　to　feel　nothing。　It　still　came　after　Nestor；　nor　was　it　minded　to　seek　its　own　safety　after　what　the　sword　had　begun　to　do　to　it。
　　　Nestor　feinted　a　high　blow；　and　then　hit　his　opponent　in　the　leg。　And　now　the　limp　that　he　had　so　accurately　forecast　became　more　pronounced。　When　Nestor　experimentally　retreated　a　step　again　to　see　what　the　thing　would　do；　it　followed。　Its　gait　was　now　a　trifle　slower。
　　　Of　course　it　might　be　keeping　speed　in　reserve；　something　to　surprise　the　man　with　at　a　critical　moment。　But　somehow　Nestor　doubted　that。　He　had　trouble　imagining　that　there　could　be　much　in　the　way　of　cleverness　behind　that　lack　of　face。　The　larva　blew　its　whistling；　forlorn　whine　at　him；　and　advanced　on　him　implacably。
　　　He　hit　it　again；　this　time　in　the　arm；　stopping　its　advance。　This　was　a　harder　blow；　with　much　of　the　swordsman's　weight　and　strength　behind　the　driving　edge；　and　now　one　of　the　larva's　wrists　and　weapons　dangled　from　a　forearm　that　had　been　almost　severed　for　all　its　hardness。　The　cut　was　leaking　slow　gray　slime　instead　of　blood。
　　　Nestor；　gaining　confidence　now；　made　up　his　mind　and　charged　the　larva　suddenly。　He　caught　it　with　its　weight　on　what　seemed　to　be　its　weaker　leg；　and　it　went　back　and　over　the　edge　of　the　roof　under　the　impact　of　a　hard　swordthrust　that　only　started　to　pierce　its　tough　breastplate。　As　it　went　back　and　over；　the　larva　made　grabbing　motions；　trying　to　seize　the　blade；　but　it　lacked　the　hands　with　which　to　grab　anything；　and　anyway　one　of　its　arms　was　almost　severed；　its　weapon　flapping　like　some　deadly　glove。　Still；　Nestor　had　one　horrible　moment；　in　which　he　feared　that　the　sword　was　stuck　so　firmly　into　the　chitinous　armor　that　it　might　be　pulled　from　his　hands　or　else　pull　him　after　the　larva　as　it　fell。　But　the　point　tugged　free　when　the　weight　of　the　gray　body　came　on　it　fully。
　　　No　skill　or　magic　broke　that　fall；　and　the　paved　court　was　a　full　seven　meters　down。　Looking　over　the　edge　of　the　roof　at　the　inert；　sprawled　figure　after　it　had　bounced；　Nestor　could　see　that　the　whole　gray　torso　was　now　networked　with　fine　cracks。　More　of　the　varied　grayness　that　must　serve　the　thing　as　life　was　oozing　from　inside。
　　　Nestor　had　no　more　than　started　his　first　easy　breath　when　the　thing　stirred。　Slowly　it　flexed　its　limbs；　then　got　back　to　its　feet。　It　tilted　its　head　back　to　let　its　eyes　find　its　human　enemy　again。　Then；　moving　deliberately；　it　limped　back　into　the　temple　on　the　level　below　Nestor。　He　felt　sure　that　it　was　ing　after　him　again。
　　　He　was　sweating　as　he　stood　there　on　the　broken　roof；　though　heavy　clouds　were　ing　over　the　sun。　He　had　the　feeling　that　he　had　entered　the　realm　of　nightmare。　But　the　urgency　of　bat　was　still　pumping　in　his　veins；　and　before　it　could　di