uleg.thefarthestshore-第22部分

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urriedly；　keeping　his　eyes　from　the　bandage；　which　was　in　need　of　changing；　for　the　wound　had　not　wholly　ceased　to　bleed。　Sparrowhawk；　in　the　languor　of　weakness；　did　not　speak；　even　as　he　drank　eagerly；　his　eyes　closed　and　he　slipped　into　sleep　again；　that　being　the　greater　thirst。　He　lay　silent；　and　when　in　the　darkness　the　breeze　died；　no　magewind　replaced　it；　and　again　the　boat　rocked　idly　on　the　smooth；　heaving　water。　But　now　the　mountains　that　loomed　to　the　right　were　black　against　a　sky　gorgeous　with　stars；　and　for　a　long　time　Arren　gazed　at　them。　Their　outlines　seemed　familiar　to　him；　as　if　he　had　seen　them　before；　as　if　he　had　known　them　all　his　life。
　　When　he　lay　down　to　sleep　he　faced　southward；　and　there；　well　up　in　the　sky　above　the　blank　sea；　burned　the　star　Gobardon。　Beneath　it　were　the　two　forming　a　triangle　with　it；　and　beneath　these；　three　had　risen　in　a　straight　line；　forming　a　greater　triangle。　Then；　slipping　free　of　the　liquid　plains　of　black　and　silver；　two　more　followed　as　the　night　wore　on；　they　were　yellow　like　Gobardon；　though　fainter；　slanting　from　right　to　left　from　the　right　base　of　the　triangle。　So　there　were　eight　of　the　nine　stars　that　were　supposed　to　make　the　figure　of　a　man；　or　the　Hardic　rune　Agnen。　To　Arren's　eyes　there　was　no　man　in　the　pattern；　unless；　as　starfigures　are；　he　was　strangely　distorted；　but　the　rune　was　plain；　with　hooked　arm　and　cross…stroke；　all　but　the　foot；　the　last　stroke　to　plete　it；　the　star　that　had　not　yet　risen。
　　Watching　for　it；　Arren　slept。
　　When　he　woke　in　the　dawn；　Lookfar　had　drifted　farther　from　Obehol。　A　mist　hid　the　shores　and　all　but　the　peaks　of　the　mountains；　and　thinned　out　into　a　haze　above　the　violet　waters　of　the　south；　dimming　the　last　stars。
　　He　looked　at　his　panion。　Sparrowhawk　breathed　unevenly；　as　when　pain　moves　under　the　surface　of　sleep　not　quite　breaking　it。　His　face　was　lined　and　old　in　the　cold；　shadowless　light。　Arren　looking　at　him　saw　a　man　with　no　power　left　in　him；　no　wizardry；　no　strength；　not　even　youth；　nothing。　He　had　not　saved　Sopli；　nor　turned　away　the　spear　from　himself。　He　had　brought　them　into　peril　and　had　not　saved　them。　Now　Sopli　was　dead；　and　he　dying；　and　Arren　would　die。　Through　this　man's　fault；　and　in　vain；　for　nothing。
　　So　Arren　looked　at　him　with　the　clear　eyes　of　despair　and　saw　nothing。
　　No　memory　stirred　in　him　of　the　fountain　under　the　rowan　tree；　or　of　the　white　magelight　on　the　slave…ship　in　the　fog；　or　of　the　weary　orchards　of　the　House　of　the　Dyers。　Nor　did　any　pride　or　stubbornness　of　will　wake　in　him。　He　watched　dawn　e　over　the　quiet　sea；　where　low；　great　swells　ran　colored　like　pale　amethyst；　and　it　was　all　like　a　dream；　pallid；　with　no　grip　or　vigor　of　reality。　And　at　the　depths　of　the　dream　and　of　the　sea；　there　was　nothing　…　a　gap；　a　void。　There　were　no　depths。
　　The　boat　moved　forward　irregularly　and　slowly；　following　the　fitful　humor　of　the　wind。　Behind；　the　peaks　of　Obehol　shrank　black　against　the　rising　sun；　from　which　the　wind　came；　bearing　the　boat　away　from　land；　away　from　the　world；　out　onto　the　open　sea。
　
　The　Children　Of　the　Open　Sea
　
　　Toward　the　middle　of　that　day　Sparrowhawk　stirred　and　asked　for　water。　When　he　had　drunk　he　asked；　〃Where　are　we　heading？〃　For　the　sail　was　taut　above　him；　and　the　boat　dipped　like　a　swallow　on　the　long　swells。
　　〃West；　or　north　by　west。〃
　　〃I'm　cold；〃　Sparrowhawk　said。　The　sun　blazed　down；　filling　the　boat　with　heat。
　　Arren　said　nothing。
　　〃Try　to　hold　west。　Wellogy；　west　of　Obehol。　Land　there。　We　need　water。〃
　　The　boy　looked　forward；　over　the　empty　sea。
　　〃What's　the　matter；　Arren？〃
　　He　said　nothing。
　　Sparrowhawk　tried　to　sit　up；　and　failing　that；　to　reach　his　staff　that　lay　by　the　gear…box；　but　it　was　out　of　his　reach；　and　when　he　tried　to　speak　again　the　words　halted　on　his　dry　lips。　The　blood　broke　out　anew　under　the　soaked　and　crusted　bandage；　making　a　little　spider's　thread　of　crimson　on　the　dark　skin　of　his　chest。　He　drew　breath　sharply　and　closed　his　eyes。
　　Arren　looked　at　him；　but　without　feeling；　and　not　for　long。　He　went　forward　and　resumed　his　crouching　position　in　the　prow；　gazing　forward。　His　mouth　was　very　dry。　The　east　wind　that　now　blew　steady　over　the　open　sea　was　as　dry　as　a　desert　wind。　There　were　only　two　or　three　pints　of　water　left　in　their　cask；　these　were；　in　Arren's　mind；　for　Sparrowhawk；　not　for　himself；　it　never　occurred　to　him　to　drink　from　that　water。　He　had　set　out　fishing　lines；　having　learned　since　they　left　Lorbanery　that　raw　fish　fulfills　both　thirst　and　hunger；　but　there　was　never　anything　on　the　lines。　It　did　not　matter。　The　boat　moved　on　over　the　desert　of　water。　Over　the　boat；　slowly；　yet　winning　the　race　in　the　end　by　all　the　width　of　heaven；　the　sun　moved　also　from　east　to　west。
　　Once　Arren　thought　he　saw　a　blue　height　in　the　south　that　might　have　been　land　or　cloud；　the　boat　had　been　running　somewhat　north　of　west　for　hours。　He　did　not　try　to　tack　and　turn；　but　let　her　go　on。　The　land　might　or　might　not　be　real；　it　did　not　matter。　To　him　all　the　vast；　fiery　glory　of　wind　and　light　and　ocean　was　dim　and　false。
　　Darkness　came；　and　light　again；　and　dark；　and　light；　like　drumbeats　on　the　tight…stretched　canvas　of　the　sky。
　　He　trailed　his　hand　in　the　water　over　the　side　of　the　boat。　For　an　instant　he　saw　that；　vivid：　his　hand　pale　greenish　beneath　the　living　water。　He　bent　and　sucked　the　wet　off　his　fingers。　It　was　bitter；　burning　his　lips　painfully；　but　he　did　it　again。　Then　he　was　sick；　and　crouched　down　vomiting；　but　only　a　little　bile　burned　his　throat。　There　was　no　more　water　to　give　Sparrowhawk；　and　he　was　afraid　to　go　near　him。　He　lay　down；　shivering　despite　the　heat。　It　was　all　silent；　dry；　and　bright：　terribly　bright。　He　hid　his　eyes　from　the　light。
　
　　They　stood　in　the　boat；　three　of　them；　stalk…thin　and　angular；　great…eyed；　like　strange　dark　herons　or　cranes。　Their　voices　were　thin；　like　birds'　voices。　He　did　not　understand　them。　One　knelt　above　him　with　a　dark　bladder　on　his　arm　and　tipped　from　it　into　Arren's　mouth：　it　was　water。　Arren　drank　avidly；　choked；　drank　again　till　he　had　drained　the　container。　Then　he　looked　about　and　struggled　to　his　feet；　saying；　〃Where　is；　where　is　he？〃　For　in　Lookfar　with　him　were　only　the　three　strange；　slender　men。
　　They　looked　at　him　unprehending。
　　〃The　other　man；〃　he　croaked；　his　raw　throat　and　stiff…caked　lips　unfit　to　form　the　words；　〃my　friend…〃
　　One　of　them　understood　his　distress　if　not　his　words；　and　putting　a　slight　hand　on　his　arm；　pointed　with　the　other。　〃There；〃　he　said；　reassuring。
　　Arren　looked。　And　he　saw；　ahead　of　the　boat　and　northward　of　her；　some　gathered　in　close　and　others　strung　far　out　across　the　sea；　rafts：　so　many　rafts　that　they　lay　like　autumn　leaves　on　a　pool。　Low　to　the　water；　each　bore　one　or　two　cabins　or　huts　near　the　center；　and　several　had　masts　stepped。　Like　leaves　they　floated；　rising　and　falling　very　softly　as　the　vast　swells　of　the　western　ocean　passed　under　them。　The　lanes　of　water　shone　like　silver　between　them；　and　over　them　towered　great　violet　and　golden　rainclouds；　darkening　the　west。
　　〃There；〃　the　man　said；　pointing　to　a　great　raft　near　Lookfar。
　　〃Alive？〃
　　They　all　looked　at　him；　and　at　last　one　understood。　〃Alive。　He　is　alive。〃　At　this　Arren　began　to　weep；　a　dry　sobbing；　and　one　of　the　men　took　his　wrist　in　a　strong　and　narrow　hand　and　drew　him　out　of　Lookfar　and　onto　a　raft　to　which　the　boat　had　been　made　fast。　The　raft　was　so　great　and　buoyant　that　it　did　not　dip　even　slightly　to　their　weight。　The　man　led　Arren　across　it；　while　one　of　the　others　reached　out　with　a　heavy　gaff　tipped　with　a　curving　whaleshark's　tooth　and　hauled　a　nearby　raft　closer；　till　they　could　step　the　gap。　There　he　led　Arren　to　the　shelter　or　cabin；　which　was　open　on　one　side　and　closed　with　woven　screens　on　the　other　three。　〃Lie　down；〃　he　said；　and　beyond　that　Arren　knew　nothing　at　all。
　
　　He　was　lying　on　his　back；　stretched　out　flat；　gazing　up　at　a　rough　green　roof　dappled　with　tiny　dots　of　light。　He　thought　he　was　in　the　apple　orchards　of　Semermine；　where　the　princes　of　Enlad　pass　their　summers；　in　the　hills　behind　Berila；　be　thought　he　was　lying　in　the　thick　grass　at　Semermine；　looking　up　at　the　sunlight　between　apple　boughs。
　　After　a　while　he　heard　the　slap　and　jostle　of　water　in　the　hollow　places　underneath　the　raft；　and　the　thin　voices　of　the　raft…people　speaking　a　tongue　that　was　the　mon　Hardic　of　the　Archipelago；　but　much　changed　in　sounds　and　rhythms；　so　that　it　was　hard　to　understand；　and　so　he　knew　where　he　was…　out　beyond　the　Archipelago；　beyond　the　Reach；　beyond　all　isles；　lost　on　the　open　sea。　But　still　he　was　untroubled；　lying　as　fortably　as　if　he　lay　in　the　grass　in　the　orchards　of　his　home。
　　He　thought　after　a　while　that　he　ought　to　get　up；　and　did　so；　finding　his　body　very　thin　and　burnt…looking　and　his　legs　shaky　but　serviceable。　He　pushed　aside　the　woven　hanging　that　made　the　walls　of　the　shelter　and　stepped　out　into　the　afternoon。　It　had　rained　while　he　slept。　The　wood　of　the　raft；　great；　smooth…shapen；　squared　logs；　fit　close　and　caulked；　was　dark　with　wet；　and　the　hair　of　the　thin；　halfnaked　people　was　black　and　lank　from　the　rain。　But　half　the　sky　was