df.therunelords-第21部分

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　The　smell　of　burning　hair　and　seared　skin　rose　on　wisps　of　smoke。
　Dewynne　writhed；　tried　to　squirm　away。　The　sergeant　held　her；　a　man　of　inhuman　strength。
　Dewynne　turned　from　Lord　Sylvarresta；　teeth　clenched。　She　was　biting　off　the　tip　of　her　tongue；　blood　and　spittle　flowing　from　her　chin。
　In　that　moment；　Iome　thought　she　could　see　all　the　pain　in　the　world　in　that　good　woman's　eyes。
　Dewynne　collapsed　into　unconsciousness。　The　stamina　had　gone　from　her；　so　much　so　that　she　could　no　longer　keep　her　eyes　open；　could　not　resist　the　fatigue　of　the　day。
　Instead；　the　blood…metal　runes　glowed　white　hot　and　throbbed。　The　facilitator；　a　narrow…faced　man　with　a　crooked　nose　and　a　long　gray　goatee；　studied　the　molten　rune　of　power　for　a　moment；　its　light　reflecting　in　his　black　eyes；　then　his　shouting　turned　to　a　song　of　joy；　of　triumph。
　He　held　the　forcible　over　his　head　with　both　hands；　waving　it；　so　that　a　trail　of　white　light　held　in　the　air；　like　a　meteor's　trail；　but　did　not　fade。　The　ribbon　of　light　hung　in　the　air；　tangible。　The　facilitator　inspected　it　carefully；　as　if　judging　its　width；　its　heft。
　He　broke　into　a　piping　song　and　ran　to　Sylvarresta；　trailing　the　ribbon　of　light。　Everyone　stopped；　no　one　daring　to　e　near　that　light；　to　risk　breaking　the　connection　about　to　be　forged　between　lord　and　Dedicate。
　At　his　lord's　side；　the　facilitator　bowed；　placed　the　white…hot　blood　metal　beneath　the　King's　breast。　The　facilitator's　song　softened　now；　coaxing；　and　slowly　the　small　forcible　in　his　hand　began　to　disintegrate；　to　crumble　and　blow　away　like　white　ash；　even　as　the　white　umbilical　of　light　faded。
　Iome　had　not　taken　a　vassal's　endowment　since　childhood。　She　had　no　way　to　remember　how　it　had　felt。　But　just　as　giving　an　endowment　caused　unspeakable　pain　to　the　giver；　so　the　receiver　felt　an　inexpressible　euphoria。
　Lord　Sylvarresta's　eyes　widened；　and　sweat　poured　from　him。　But　it　was　a　sheen　of　excitement；　an　almost　demented　thrill。　His　eyes　glowed　with　joy；　and　every　line　in　his　face；　every　muscle；　relaxed。　He　had　the　decency　not　to　sigh；　not　to　make　a　great　show　of　his　pleasure。
　Binnesman　rushed　up　beside　Iome；　leaned　near。　His　breath　smelled　of　anise。　His　robe　was　a　garment　of　darkest　green；　woven　of　some　strange　fabric　that　looked　like　mashed　roots。　It　had　the　rich；　clean　scent　of　herbs　and　spices；　which　he　kept　in　his　pockets。　His　hair　had　grasses　woven　into　it。　Though　he　was　not　a　handsome　man；　with　fat　cheeks　as　red　as　apples；　there　was　a　certain　sexual　quality　to　him。　Iome　could　not　have　him　so　near　without　feeling　aroused；　a　distinctly　annoying　sensation。　But　Binnesman　was　an　Earth　Warden；　a　magician　of　great　skill；　as　such；　his　creative　powers　tended　to　affect　those　around　him；　whether　he　willed　it　or　not。
　He　knelt　down　and　with　dirt…stained　hands　felt　the　pulse　in　Dewynne's　neck；　his　face　looking　grave；　worried。
　〃Damn　that　worthless　facilitator；〃　Binnesman　muttered　softly；　fumbling　for　something　in　the　pocket　of　his　mud…stained　robe。
　〃What's　wrong？〃　Iome　breathed；　not　daring　to　speak　loud　enough　for　others　to　hear。
　〃Hyde's　using　the　Scorrel　version　of　chants；　draining　these　people　too　much；　hoping　I　can　mend　them。　Dewynne　would　not　live　another　hour　if　I　weren't　here；　and　he　knows　it！〃
　Binnesman　was　a　kind　man；　a　passionate　man。　The　kind　who　took　pity　on　fledgling　sparrows　when　they　fell　from　a　nest；　or　who　would　nurse　a　grass　snake　back　to　health　after　it　got　crushed　by　a　passing　oxcart。　His　sky…blue　eyes　studied　Dewynne　from　under　bushy　brows。
　〃Can　you　save　her？〃　Iome　asked。
　〃Perhaps；　perhaps。　But　I　doubt　I'll　save　them　all。〃　He　nodded　to　the　other　Dedicates；　who　lay　on　their　cots；　some　fighting　for　their　lives　after　giving　up　an　endowment。　〃I　wish　your　father　had　hired　that　facilitator　from　the　Weymouth　school　last　summer。〃
　Iome　understood　little　of　the　various　schools　of　facilitators。　The　peting　masters　could　be　quite　vociferous　in　proclaiming　the　superiority　of　their　schools；　and　only　someone　well　versed　in　the　various　breakthroughs　and　ongoing　experiments　in　each　school　could　really　judge　which　was　best　on　a　given　day。　Some　master　facilitators　excelled　at　processing　certain　kinds　of　endowments。　Hyde　was　an　excellent　man　for　taking　endowments　of　hearing　and　smellendowments　her　father　considered　most　valuable　in　a　forest　kingdom。　But　his　work　on　major　endowmentson　taking　stamina　and　metabolism　in　particularsuffered　in　parison。　At　least；　unlike　some　facilitators；　he　did　not　spend　a　fortune　in　blood　metal　to　do　research　on　dogs　or　horses。
　Finally　Binnesman　found　something　in　his　pocket。　He　pulled　out　a　fresh　camphor　leaf；　bruised　it　between　his　fingers；　and　set　each　half　beneath　Dewynne's　nostrils。　The　sweat　on　her　upper　lip　held　the　leaf　in　place。
　Reaching　in　the　same　pocket；　he　pulled　out　petals　of　lavender；　several　brown　seeds；　and　other　herbs；　applying　them　to　Dewynne's　sweaty　body；　placing　some　under　her　lips。　It　was　a　marvel　to　behold。　The　old　magician　had　only　two　pockets；　each　filled　with　a　tangled　glut　of　his　loose　herbs；　yet　he　didn't　bother　even　looking　in　those　pockets；　just　seemed　to　recognize　by　touch　the　herbs　he　wanted。
　Iome　glanced　over　to　another　cot。　The　butcher's　apprentice；　a　husky　boy　named　Orrin；　lay　ready　to　offer　his　lord　an　endowment　of　brawn。　The　sight　of　him；　so　full　of　courage　and　love　and　youthful　strength；　nearly　broke　her　heart。　If　he　gave　an　endowment　now；　he　might　spend　the　rest　of　his　days　unable　to　rise　from　his　cot。　It　did　not　seem　fair　to　take　his　life　when　it　had　hardly　begun。
　Yet　the　boy　faced　no　greater　dangers　than　she。　If　Raj　Ahten　conquered　Heredon；　this　boy's　fate　could　be　better　than　hers；　she　imagined。　If　her　father　were　killed；　the　boy's　endowment　of　brawn　would　return　to　him。　Unable　to　ever　give　another　endowment；　the　boy　would　be　free　to　practice　his　craft　in　peace。　Meanwhile；　if　Raj　Ahten　defeated　House　Sylvarresta；　what　would　await　Iome？　Torture？　Death？
　No；　the　butcher's　boy　knows　what　he's　doing；　Iome　told　herself。　He　makes　a　wise　choice；　perhaps　the　best　choice　available　to　him。　By　giving　endowments　to　his　king　now；　he　might　only　have　to　lose　a　day　in　such　dear　service。
　Binnesman　muttered；　〃So　little　time；〃　began　smearing　Dewynne　with　healing　soils；　touching　them　to　her　lips。　The　woman　began　panting；　as　if　every　breath　were　a　great　labor；　and　Binnesman　helped　her　by　pushing　down　on　her　chest。
　〃What　can　I　do？〃　Iome　begged；　frightened　that　the　matron　would　die　here；　acplishing　nothing。
　〃Just。。。please；　stay　out　of　my　way；〃　Binnesman　said　in　a　tone　seldom　spoken　to　Runelords。　〃Ah；　I　almost　forgot。　A　young　man　wants　to　see　youup　there。　The　Prince　of　Mystarria。〃
　Iome　glanced　up　the　keep's　wall。　A　stone　staircase　led　to　the　south　tower；　where　siege　engines　were　poised　to　strike　over　the　town。
　Up　there；　at　the　top　of　the　tower；　she　could　see　her　Maid　of　Honor；　Chemoise；　waving　to　her　urgently。　A　watchman　in　black　livery　paced　behind　her。
　〃I've　no　time　for　such　foolishness；〃　Iome　said。
　〃Go　to　him；〃　her　father　manded　from　fifty　feet　away。　He'd　used　his　Voice；　speaking　so　that　it　sounded　as　if　he　confided　in　her　ear。　Even　here　in　the　courtyard；　with　all　the　noise　and　motion；　he'd　heard　her　whispered　ment。　〃You　know　how　long　I've　wanted　to　unite　our　two　families。〃
　So；　he'd　e　to　offer　a　betrothal。　Iome　was　of　the　proper　age；　though　she'd　had　no　worthy　suitors。　The　sons　of　a　couple　minor　lords　wanted　her；　but　none　had　holdings　to　equal　her　father's。
　But　would　Prince　Orden　propose　now？　Now；　when　the　kingdom　was　under　attack？　No；　he'll　offer　no　proposal；　only　extend　apologies；　Iome　realized。
　A　waste　of　precious　time。　〃I'm　too　busy；〃　Iome　said。　〃There's　too　much　to　do。〃
　Her　father　stared　at　her；　his　gray　eyes　full　of　sadness。　How　handsome　he　was。　〃You've　been　working　for　hours。　You　need　rest。　Take　it　now。　Go　speak　to　him；　for　an　hour。〃
　She　wanted　to　argue；　but　looked　in　her　father's　eyes；　which　said；　Speak　to　him　now。　Nothing　you　do　can　make　a　difference　in　the　fight　to　e。
　
　Chapter　8
　LESS　THAN　AN　HOUR
　　
　An　hour　is　not　enough　time　to　fall　in　love；　but　an　hour　is　all　they　had　that　cool　autumn　afternoon。
　In　better　times；　Iome　would　have　felt　grateful　even　for　that　slight　allotment　of　time　in　which　to　meet　a　suitor　alone。　Over　the　past　winter　her　father　had　told　her　much　about　Gaborn；　praised　him　highly；　hoping　that　when　this　day　came；　she'd　accept　him　willingly。
　Under　normal　circumstances；　Iome　would　have　hoped　for　love。　She　would　have　prepared　her　heart　for　it；　nurtured　it。
　But　on　this　day；　when　her　father's　kingdom　was　about　to　topple；　meeting　the　son　of　King　Orden　served　no　purpose　other　than　to　satisfy　a　morbid　curiosity。
　Would　she　have　loved　him？　If　so；　then　this　meeting　would　acplish　nothing　more　than　to　chain　her　with　a　painful　reminder　of　what　might　have　been。
　More　likely　she'd　have　despised　him。　He　was；　after　all；　an　Orden。　Still；　being　wed　to　a　man　she　despised　would　have　seemed　a　minor　inconvenience　pared　with　what　she　feared　lay　ahead。　Right　now；　she　was　acutely　aware　that　her　people　owed　Gaborn　a　debt　for　his　service；　and　though　she　wanted　nothing　to　do　with　him；　she　decided　to　treat　him　cordially；　make　the　best　of　it。
　As　Iome　climbed　the