fs.thefirstbookofswords-第8部分

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ded　from　the　throat　of　the　Duke's　cousin。
　　　Other　villagers　were　now　appearing　in　the　street；　to　gather　around　the　fallen。　They　came　out　of　their　houses　singly　at　first；　then　in　twos　and　threes。　Some；　with　field　implements　in　hand；　must　have　e；　running　in　from　work　nearby。　The　Elder　was　dead；　the　village　leaderless。　An　uproar　grew；　confusion　mounted。　There　was　talk　of　dashing　off　to　the　manor　with　word　of　the　attack；　but　no　one　actually　went　yet。　There　was　more　talk　of　organizing　a　militia　pursuit　of　the　attackers；　whoever　they　had　been；　wherever　they　had　gone。　Wild　talk　of　war；　of　raids；　of　uprisings　…　flew　back　and　forth。
　　　〃Yes；　they　were　trying　to　kidnap　the　seneschal。　I　saw　them。　I　heard　them。〃
　　　〃Who？　Kidnap　who？〃　〃Kyril's　dead　too。　And　Jord。〃　〃But　it　was　the　boy's　arrow　that　struck　him　down。〃　〃Who；　his　own　father？　Nonsense！〃　'　。。。no。。。　'
　　　'。。。　all　wrong；　havoc　like　this；　must　have　been　cavalry。。　。　'
　　　'。。。　no　doubt　that　it's　his　arrow；　I've　found　them　on　my　land；　near　my　woolbeasts。。。　〃
　　　Mala　and　Marian　had　by　now　stripped　off　Kenn's　shirt　and　were　trying　to　bind　up　his　wounds。　It　looked　a　hopeless　task。　Kenn's　eyes　were　almost　closed；　only　white　slits　of　eyeball　showing。　Mala　went　to　Jord's　inert　form；　and　with　tears　streaming　from　her　eyes　tried　to　get　her　husband　to　react；　to　wake　up　to　what　was　happening　around　him。　〃Husband；　your　oldest　son　is　dying。　Husband；　wake　up。。。　Jord。。。　ah；　Ardneh！　Not　you　too？〃
　　　A　neighbor　woman　hovered　over　Mala；　trying　to　help。　Together　they　put　a　rolled　blanket　under　Jord's　head；　as　if　that　might　be　of　benefit。
　　　Mark　turned　from　them；　and　sat　staring　at　the　sword。　Something　less　terrible　to　look　at。　It　was　as　if　thoughts　were　ing　and　going　in　his　head　continually；　but　he　could　not　grasp　any　of　them。　Only　look　at　the　sword。　Only　look。
　　　He　became　aware　that　his　mother　was　gripping　his　arm　fiercely；　shaking　him　out　of　his　state　of　shock。　In　a　voice　that　was　low　but　had　a　terrible　power　she　was　urging　him：　〃Son；　listen　to　me。　You　must　run　away。　Run　fast　and　far；　and　don't　tell　me；　don't　tell　anyone；　where　you're　going。　Stay　out　of　sight；　tell　no　one　your　name；　and　listen　for　word　of　what's　happening　here　in　Arin。　Don't　think　about　ing　home　until　you　know　it's　safe。　That's　your　arrow　in　the　Duke's　cousin's　throat；　however　it　got　there。　If　the　Duke　should　get　his　hands　on　you；　he　could　have　your　eyes　put　out；　or　worse。〃
　　　〃But。。。　〃　Mark's　mind　wanted　to　protest；　to　scream　that　none　of　this　could　be　。happening；　that　the　world　was　not　this　mad。　His　body；　perhaps；　knew　better；　for　he　was　already　standing。　His　mother's　dark　eyes　probed　him。　His　sister　Marian　looked　up　at　him　from　where　she　still　crouched　with　Kenn's　lifeless　head　cradled　in　her　lap；　her　blue　horrified　eyes　framed　in　her　loose　fair　hair。　All　around；　villagers　were　arguing；　quarreling；　in　greater　confusion　than　ever。　Falkener's　hoarse　voice　came　and　went；　and　the　wizard's　unfamiliar　one。
　　　Impelled　by　a　sudden　sense　of　urgency；　Mark　moved　siftly。　As　if　he　were　watching　his　own　movements　from　outside　his　body；　he　saw　himself　bend　and　gather　up　the　sword's　wrapping　from　where　Kenn　had　thrown　it　down。　He　threw　the　blanket　over　the　sword　and　gathered　the　blade　up　into　it。
　　　Of　all　the　people　in　the　street；　only　his　mother　and　his　sister　seemed　to　be　aware　of　what　he　was　doing。　Mala；　weeping；　nodded　her　approval。　Marian　whispered　to　him：　〃Walk　as　far　as　our　house；　then　run。　Go；　we'll　be　all　right！〃
　　　Mark　muttered　something　to　them　both；　he　never　could　remember　what；　and　started　walking。　He　knew；　everyone　in　the　village　knew；　what　Duke　Fraktin　had　done　in　the　past　to　men　who'd　been　so　unlucky　as　to　injure　any　of　his　kinfolk；　even　by　accident。　Mark　continued　to　move　pace　after　pace　along　the　once…familiar　village　street；　the　street　that　now　could　never　be　the　same　again；　carrying　what　he　hoped　was　an　inconspicuous　bundle。　He　walked　without　looking　back。　For　whatever　reason；　there　was　no　outcry　after　him。
　　　When　he　reached　the　millhouse；　instead　of　starting　to　run　he　turned　inside。　The　practical　thought　had　occurred　to　him　that　if　he　ran　away　for　very　long　he　was　going　to　need　some　food。　In　the　pantry　he　picked　up　a　little　dried　meat；　dried　fruit；　and　a　small　loaf；　unconsciously　emptying　his　game　bag　of　the　morning's　kill　of　rabbits　in　exchange。　From　near　his　bed　he　grabbed　up　also　the　few　spare　arrows　that　were　his。　Somehow；　he'd　remembered；　out　in　the　street；　to　sling　his　bow　across　his　back　again。
　　　A　few　moments　after　he　had　entered　the　millhouse；　Mark　was　leaving　it　again；　this　time　by　the　back　door。　This　was　on　the　eastern；　upstream　side　of　the　building；　and　now　the　mill　was　between　him　and　the　village　street。　From　this　point　a　path　climbed　the　artificial　bank　beside　the　millwheel；　which　was　now　standing　idle；　and　then　followed　the　wooded　riverbank　out　of　town。　Mark　met　no　one　on　the　first　few　meters　of　this　path。　If　earlier　there　had　been　people　fishing　here；　or　village　children　playing　along　the　stream；　the　excitement　in　the　street　had　already　drawn　them　away。
　　　Now　Mark　did　begin　to　run。　But　as　soon　as　he　started　running；　he　could　feel　fear　growing　in　him；　an　imagined　certainty　of　pursuit；　and　to　conquer　it　he　had　to　slow　down　to　a　walk　again。　When　he　walked；　listening　carefully；　he　could　hear　no　sounds　of　pursuit；　no　outcry　ing　after　him。
He　had　followed　the　familiar　path　upstream　for　half　a　kilometer　when　he　came　upon　the　dead　body　of　the　brindled　warbeast。　It　had　plainly　been　trying　to　crawl　into　a　thicket　when　it　died；　caught　and　held　by　the　ragged　fringes　of　its　hacked　chainmail　snagged　on　twigs。　Mark　paused；　staring　blankly。　The　animal　was　a　female。。。　or　had　been；　before　the　fight。　Now。。。　how　had　the　creature　managed　to　get　this　far？　It　looked　like　an　example　of　the　vengeance　of　a　god。
Chapter　2
　　　From　the　place　where　he　had　e　upon　the　dead　warbeast；　Mark　walked　steadily　upstream。　He　traveled　the　riverbank　in　that　direction　for　another　hour；　still　without　meeting　anyone。　By　that　time　he　was　feeling　acutely　conscious　of　the　blood　dried　on　his　clothing　and　his　hands；　and　he　stopped；　long　enough　to　wash　himself；　his　garments；　and　at　last　the　sword　as　clean　as　possible。　The　washing　had　limited　success；　for　by　now　spots　of　his　brother's　blood　had　dried　into　his　shirt；　and　there　was　no　getting　them　out　by　simply　rubbing　at　them　and　rinsing　them　with　water。　The　sword　in　contrast　rinsed　clean　at　once；　dirt　and　gore　sluicing　from　it　easily；　leaving　the　smooth　steel　gleaming　as　if　it　had　never　been　used。　Nor；　despite　all　the　shredded　chainmail　and　the　cloven　shields；　were　its　edges　nicked　or　dulled。
　　　Yes；　Mark　had　known　all　his　life　that　the　sword　called　Townsaver　was　the　work　of　Vulcan　himself。　He'd　known　that　fact；　but　was　only　now　starting　to　grasp　something　of　its　full　meaning。　But　maybe　the　sword　would　rust。。。
　　　Dressed　again；　in　wet　clothes；　Mark　hurried　on。　He　had　made　no　conscious　decision　about　where　he　was　going。　The　path　was　so　familiar　that　his　feet　bore　him　along　it　automatically。　He　kept　putting　more　distance　between　himself　and　his　home　without　having　to　plan　a　route。　From　hunting　and　fishing　trips　he　knew　the　way　so　well　here　that　he　thought　he'd　be　able　to　keep　on　going　confidently　even。after　dark。　At　intervals　he　waded　into　the　shallow　stream；　crossing　and　recrossing　it；　sometimes　trudging　in　the　water　for　long　stretches。　If　the　Duke's　men　were　going　to　e　after　him　with　keen…nosed　tracking　beasts；　it　might　help。。。
　　　He　feared　pursuit；　and　listened　for　it　constantly。　But　when　he　tried　to　picture　in　his　mind　exactly　what　form　it　would　take；　it　looked　in　his　imagination　rather　like　the　militia　that　Kenn　had　had　to　join　and　drill　with　periodically。　That　was　not　a　very　terrifying　picture。　But　of　course　the　pursuit　wouldn't　really　be　like　that。　It　might　include　tracking　beasts；　and　aerial　scouts；　and　cavalry；　and　warbeasts　too。。。　again　Mark　saw；　with　the　vividness　of　recent　memory；　the　mangled　body　of　the　catlike　creature　that　had　tried　like　some　hurt　pet　to　crawl　away　and　hide。。。
　　　His　thoughts　never　could　get　far　from　the　burden　that　he　was　carrying；　the　awkward　bundle　tucked　at　this　moment　under　his　right　arm；　wrapped　up　in　a　blanket　newly　stained。　Townsaver；　let　the　gods　name　it　whatever　they　liked；　hadn't　really　saved　the　town　at　all。　Because　it　was　not　the　town　that　the　intruders　had　been　trying　to　attack。　They　had　been　after　the　eminent　visitor；　and　nothing　else。　（And　here　Mark　wondered　again　just　what　a　seneschal　might　be。）
　　　Mark　supposed　that　the　intruders　had　been　bandits；　planning　a　kidnapping　for　ransom　…　everyone　knew　that　such　things　happened　to　the　wealthy　from　time　to　time。　Of　course　as　a　rule　they　didn't　happen　to　members　of　the　Duke's　family。　But　perhaps　the　bandits　hadn't　known　just　who　their　intended　victim　was；　they'd　seen　only　that　he　must　be　rich。
　　　And　the　victim　had　e　to　the　village　in　the　first　place　only　because　of　the　sword　itself；　that　was　what　he　had　wanted　to　see　and　hold；　what　he　would　probably　have　taken　away　with　him　if　he　could。　If　only　he　had。。。
　　　The　killing　of　Jord　and　of　Kyril　had　probably　been　pletely　accidental；　just　because　they'd　been　standing　in　the　bandits'　way。