mck.harpistinthewind-第11部分

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umb　and　sweating；　blinking　out　of　a　dream　of　darkness　into　darkness；　both　haunted　by　the　same　inescapable　harping。　He　searched　for　the　harpist　one　night；　but　he　only　got　lost　among　the　trees。　Returning　wearily　near　dawn　in　the　shape　of　a　wolf；　he　scared　the　horses；　and　Raederle　flung　a　circle　of　fire　around　them　and　herself　that　nearly　singed　his　pelt。　They　discussed　matters　furiously　for　a　few　moments；　until　the　sight　of　their　weary；　flushed；　bedraggled　faces　made　them　both　break　into　laughter。
　　　　　　　The　longer　they　rode；　the　longer　the　road　seemed　to　stretch　itself；　mile　after　mile　through　changeless　forest。　Morgon's　mind　milled　constantly　through　scraps　of　conversations；　expressions　on　faces　they　passed；　noises　ahead　and　behind　them；　the　occasional　mute　imagery　behind　the　eyes　of　a　bird　flying　overhead。　He　grew　preoccupied；　trying　to　see　ahead　and　behind　them　at　the　same　tune；　watching　for　harpists；　for　horse　thieves；　for　shape…changers。　He　scarcely　heard　Raederle　when　she　spoke。　When　she　stopped　speaking　to　him　altogether　once；　he　did　not　realize　it　for　hours。　As　they　grew　farther　from　Caithnard；　the　traffic　lessened；　they　had　isolated　miles；　now　and　then；　of　silence。　But　the　heat　was　constant；　and　every　stranger　appearing　behind　them　after　a　quiet　mile　looked　suspicious。　Except　for　the　harping；　though；　their　nights　were　peaceful。　On　the　day　that　Morgon　finally　began　to　feel　secure；　they　lost　their　horses。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　They　had　camped　early　that　day；　for　they　were　both　exhausted。　Morgon　left　Raederle　washing　her　hair　in　the　river　and　walked　half　a　mile　to　an　inn　they　had　passed　to　buy　a　few　supplies　and　pick　up　news。　The　inn　was　crowded　with　travellers：　traders　exchanging　gossip；　impoverished　musicians　playing　every　instrument　but　a　harp　for　the　price　of　a　meal；　merchants；　farmers；　families　who　looked　as　if　they　had　fled　from　their　homes；　carrying　all　their　possessions　on　their　backs。
　　　　　　　The　air　was　heavy　with　wine…whetted　rumors。　Morgon；　picking　a　rich；　heavy　voice　at　random　from　a　far　table；　followed　it　as　though　he　were　following　an　instrument's　voice。　〃Twenty　years；〃　the　man　said。　〃For　twenty　years　I　lived　across　from　it。　I　sold　fine　cloth　and　furs　from　all　parts　of　the　realm　in　my　shop；　and　I　never　saw　so　much　as　a　shadow　out　of　place　in　the　ruins　of　the　ancient　school。　Then；　late　one　night　while　I　was　checking　my　accounts；　I　saw　lights　here　and　there　in　the　broken　windows。　No　man　ever　walks　across　those　grounds；　not　even　for　the　wealth　of　it：　the　place　reeks　of　disaster。　So　that　was　enough　for　me。　I　took　every　bolt　of　cloth　out　of　that　shop；　left　messages　for　my　buyers　to　bring　what　they　had　for　me　to　Caithnard；　and　I　fled。　If　there　is　going　to　be　another　wizard's　war　in　that　city；　I　intend　to　be　on　the　other　side　of　the　realm。〃
　　　　　　　〃In　Caithnard？〃　another　merchant　answered　incredulously。　〃With　half　the　Ymris　coastline　to　the　north　plagued　with　war？　At　least　Lungold　has　wizards　in　it。　Caithnard　has　nothing　but　fishwives　and　scholars。　There's　as　much　defense　in　a　dead　fish　as　in　a　book。　I've　left　Caithnard。　I'm　heading　for　the　backlands；　I　might　e　out　again　in　fifty　years。〃
　　　　　　　Morgon　let　the　voices　fade　back　into　the　noise。　He　found　the　innkeeper　hovering　at　his　shoulder。　〃Lord？〃　he　said　briskly；　and　Morgon　ordered　beer。　It　was　from　Hed；　and　it　washed　a　hundred　miles　of　road　dust　down　his　throat。　He　dipped　sporadically　into　other　conversations；　one　word　from　a　sour…looking　trader　caught　his　attention。
　　　　　　　〃It's　that　cursed　war　in　Ymris。　Half　the　fanners　in　Ruhn　had　their　horses　drafted　into　war：　the　descendants　of　Ruhn　battle　horses　bred　to　the　plow。　The　king　is　holding　his　own　on　Wind　Plain；　but　he's　paying　a　bloody　price　for　stalemate。　His　warriors　buy　what　horses　they　are　offered；　so　do　the　farmers。　No　one　asks　any　more　where　the　horses　e　from。　I've　had　an　armed　guard　around　my　wagon　teams　every　night　since　I　left　Caithnard。〃
　　　　　　　Morgon　set　down　an　empty　glass；　worried　suddenly　about　Raederle　alone　with　their　horses。　A　trader　beside　him　asked　a　friendly　question；　he　grunted　a　reply。　He　was　about　to　leave　when　his　own　name　caught　his　ear。
　　　　　　　〃Morgon　of　Hed？　I　heard　a　rumor　that　he　was　in　Caithnard；　disguised　as　a　student。　He　vanished　before　the　Masters　even　recognized　him。〃
　　　　　　　Morgon　glanced　around。　A　group　of　muscians　had　congregated　around　a　jug　of　wine　they　were　sharing。　〃He　was　in　Anuin；〃　a　piper　said；　wiping　spit　out　of　his　instrument。　He　looked　at　the　silent　faces　around　him。　〃You　haven't　heard　that　tale？　He　caught　up　with　the　High　One's　harpist　finally　in　Anuin；　in　the　king's　own　hall！〃
　　　　　　　〃The　High　One's　harpist；〃　a　gangling　young　man　with　a　collection　of　small　drums　hanging　about　him　said　bitterly。　〃And　what　was　the　High　One　doing　through　all　this？　A　man　loses　his　land…rule；　betrayed　in　the　High　One's　name　by　a　harpist　who　lied　to　every　king　in　the　realm；　and　the　High　One　won't　lift　a　finger　…　if　he　has　one　…　to　give　him　justice。〃
　　　　　　　〃If　you　ask　me；〃　a　singer　said　abruptly；　〃the　High　One　is　nothing　more　than　a　lie。　Invented　by　the　Founder　of　Lungold。〃
　　　　　　　There　was　a　short　silence。　The　singer　blinked　a　little　nervously　at　his　own　words；　as　if　the　High　One　might　be　standing　at　his　shoulder　sipping　beer　and　listening。　Another　singer　growled；　〃Nobody　asked。　Shut　up；　all　of　you。　I　want　to　hear　what　happened　at　Anuin。〃
　　　　　　　Morgon　turned　abruptly。　A　hand　stopped　him。　The　trader　who　had　spoken　to　him　said　slowly；　perplexedly；　〃I　know　you。　Your　name　hangs　at　the　edge　of　my　memory；　I　know　it　。。。　Something　to　do　with　rain。。。〃
　　　　　　　Morgon　recognized　him：　the　trader　he　had　talked　to　long　ago　on　a　rainy　autumn　day　in　Hlurle；　after　he　had　ridden　out　of　the　Herun　hills。　He　said　brusquely；　〃I　don't　know　what　in　Hel's　name　you're　talking　about。　It　hasn't　rained　for　weeks。　Do　you　want　to　keep　your　hand；　or　do　I　take　it　with　me？〃
　　　　　　　〃Lords；　　Lords；〃　　the　　innkeeper　　murmured。　　　〃No　violence　in　my　inn。〃　The　trader　took　two　beers　off　his　tray；　set　one　down　in　front　of　Morgon。　〃No　offense。〃　He　was　still　puzzled；　searching　Morgon's　face。　〃Talk　with　me　a　little。　I　haven't　been　home　to　Kraal　in　months；　and　I　need　some　idle。。。〃
　　　　　　　Morgon　jerked　out　of　his　hold。　His　elbow　hit　the　beer；　splashing　it　across　the　table　into　the　lap　of　a　horse　trader；　who　rose；　cursing。　Something　in　Morgon's　face；　of　power　or　despair；　quelled　his　first　impulse。　〃That's　no　way　to　treat　fine　beer；〃　he　said　darkly。　〃Or　the　offer　of　it。　How　have　you　managed　to　live　as　long　as　you　have；　picking　quarrels　out　of　thin　air？〃
　　　　　　　〃I　mind　my　own　business；〃　Morgon　said　curtly。　He　tossed　a　coin　on　the　table　and　went　back　into　the　dusk。　His　own　rudeness　lay　like　a　bad　taste　in　his　mouth。　Memories　stirred　up　by　the　singers　hovered　in　the　back　of　his　mind；　light　gathering　on　his　sword　blade；　the　harpist's　face　turning　upward　to　meet　it。　He　walked　quickly　through　the　trees；　cursing　the　length　of　the　road；　the　dust　on　it；　the　stars　on　his　face；　and　all　the　shadows　of　memory　he　could　not　outrun。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　He　nearly　walked　through　their　camp　before　he　recognized　it。　He　stopped；　bewildered。　Raederle　and　both　the　horses　were　gone。　For　a　second　he　wondered　if　something　he　had　done　had　offended　her　so　badly　that　she　decided　to　ride　both　horses　back　to　Anuin。　The　packs　and　saddles　lay　where　he　had　left　them；　there　was　no　sign　of　a　struggle；　no　flurries　of　dead　leaves　or　singed　oakroots。　Then　he　heard　her　call　him　and　saw　her　stumbling　across　a　shallow　section　of　the　river。
　　　　　　　There　were　tears　on　her　face。　〃Morgon；　I　was　beside　the　river　getting　water　when　two　men　rode　past　me。　They　nearly　ran　me　down。　I　was　so　furious　I　didn't　even　realize　they　were　riding　our　horses　until　they　reached　the　far　side。　So　I。。。〃
　　　　　　　〃You　ran　after　them？〃　he　said　incredulously。　
　　　　　　　〃I　thought　they　might　slow　down；　through　the　trees。　But　they　started　to　gallop。　I'm　sorry。〃
　　　　　　　〃They'll　get　a　good　price　for　them　in　Ymris；〃　Morgon　said　grimly。
　　　　　　　〃Morgon；　they're　not　a　mile　away。　You　could　get　them　back　easily。〃
　　　　　　　He　hesitated；　looking　at　her　angry；　tired　face。　Then　he　turned　away　from　her；　picked　up　their　food　pack。　〃Heureu's　army　needs　them　more　than　we　do。〃
　　　　　　　He　felt　her　sudden　silence　at　his　back　like　something　tangible。　He　opened　the　pack　and　cursed　himself　again；　realizing　he　had　forgotten　to　buy　their　supplies。
　　　　　　　She　said　softly；　〃Are　you　telling　me　we　are　going　to　walk　all　the　way　to　Lungold？〃
　　　　　　　〃If　you　want。〃　His　fingers　were　shaking　slightly　on　the　pack　ties。
　　　　　　　He　heard　her　move　finally。　She　went　back　down　to　the　river　to　get　their　water　skin。　She　said　when　she　returned；　her　voice　inflectionless；　〃Did　you　bring　wine？〃
　　　　　　　〃I　forgot　it。　I　forgot　everything。〃　He　turned　then；　blazing　into　argument　before　she　could　speak。　〃And　I　can't　go　back。　Not　without　getting　into　a　tavern　brawl。〃
　　　　　　　〃Did　I　ask　you　to？　I　wasn't　even　going　to　ask。〃　She　dropped　down　beside　the　fire；　tossed　a　twig　in　it。　〃I　lost　the　horses；　you　forgot　the　food。　You　didn't　blame　me。〃　She　dropped　her　face　suddenly　against　her　knees。　〃Morgon；〃　she　whispered。　〃I'm　sorry。　I　will　crawl　to　Lungold　before　I　change　shape。〃
　　　　　　　He　stood　gazing　down　at　her。　He　turned；　paced　a　half…circle　around　the　fire；　and　s