uleg.thefarthestshore-第6部分
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eparted。
The fire crackled in the hearth。 There was no other sound。 Outside the windows the fog pressed formless and dim。
The Archmage stared into the flames； seeming to have forgotten Arren's presence。 The boy stood at some distance from the hearth； not knowing if he should take his leave or wait to be dismissed； irresolute and somewhat desolate； feeling again like a small figure in a dark； illimitable； confusing space。
〃We'll go first to Hort Town；〃 said Sparrowhawk； turning his back to the fire。 〃News gathers there from all the South Reach； and we may find a lead。 Your ship still waits in the bay。 Speak to the master； let him carry word to your father。 I think we should leave as soon as may be。 At daybreak tomorrow。 e to the steps by the boathouse。〃
〃My lord； what…〃 His voice stuck a moment。 〃What is it you seek？〃
〃I don't know； Arren。〃
〃Then…〃
〃Then how shall I seek it？ Neither do I know that。 Maybe it will seek me。〃 He grinned a little at Arren； but his face was like iron in the grey light of the windows。
〃My lord；〃 Arren said； and his voice was steady now； 〃it is true I e of the lineage of Morred； if any tracing of lineage so old be true。 And if I can serve you I will account it the greatest chance and honor of my life； and there is nothing I would rather do。 But I fear that you mistake me for something more than I am。 〃
〃Maybe；〃 said the Archmage。
〃I have no great gifts or skills。 I can fence with the short sword and the noble sword。 I can sail a boat。 I know the court dances and the country dances。 I can mend a quarrel between courtiers。 I can wrestle。 I am a poor archer； and I am skillful at the game of net…ball。 I can sing； and play the harp and lute。 And that is all。 There is no more。 What use will I be to you？ The Master Summoner is right…〃
〃Ah； you saw that； did you？ He's jealous。 He claims the privilege of older loyalty。〃
〃And greater skill； my lord。〃
〃Then you'd rather he went with me； and you stayed behind？〃
〃No！ But I fear…〃
〃Fear what？〃
Tears sprang to the boy's eyes。 〃To fail you；〃 he said。
The Archmage turned around again to the fire。 〃Sit down； Arren；〃 he said； and the boy came to the stone corner…seat of the hearth。 〃I did not mistake you for a wizard or a warrior or any finished thing。 What you are I do not know； though I'm glad to know that you can sail a boat。。。 What you will be； no one knows。 But this much I do know： you are the son of Morred and of Serriadh。〃
Arren was silent。 〃That is true； my lord；〃 he said at last。 〃But。。。〃 The Archmage said nothing； and he had to finish his sentence： 〃But I am not Morred。 I am only myself。〃
〃You take no pride in your lineage？〃
〃Yes； I take pride in it …because it makes me a prince； it is a responsibility； a thing that must be lived up to…〃
The Archmage nodded once； sharply。 〃That is what I meant。 To deny the past is to deny the future。 A man does not make his destiny： he accepts it or denies it。 If the rowan's roots are shallow； it bears no crown。〃 At this Arren looked up startled； for his true name； Lebannen； meant the rowan tree。 But the Archmage had not said his name。 〃Your roots are deep；〃 he went on。 〃You have strength and you must have room； room to grow。 Thus I offer you； instead of a safe trip home to Enlad； an unsafe voyage to an unknown end。 You need not e。 The choice is yours。 But I offer you the choice。 For I am tired of safe places； and roofs； and walls around me。〃 He ended abruptly； looking about him with piercing； unseeing eyes。 Arren saw the deep restlessness of the man； and it frightened him。 Yet fear sharpens exhilaration； and it was with a leap of the heart that he answered； 〃My lord； I choose to go with you。〃
Arren left the Great House with his heart and mind full of wonder。 He told himself that he was happy； but the word did not seem to suit。 He told himself that the Archmage had called him strong； a man of destiny； and that he was proud of such praise； but he was not proud。 Why not？ The most powerful wizard in the world told him； 〃Tomorrow we sail to the edge of doom；〃 and he nodded his head and came： should he not feel pride？ But he did not。 He felt only wonder。
He went down through the steep； wandering streets of Thwil Town； found his ship's master on the Quays； and said to him； 〃I sail tomorrow with the Archmage； to Wathort and the South Reach。 Tell the Prince my father that when I am released from this service I will e home to Berila。〃
The ship's captain looked dour。 He knew how the bringer of such news might be received by the Prince of Enlad。 〃I must have writing about it from your hand； prince；〃 he said。 Seeing the justice in that； Arren hurried off …he felt that all must be done instantly… and found a strange little shop where he purchased inkstone and brush and a piece of soft paper； thick as felt； then he hurried back to the quays and sat down on the wharfside to write his parents。 When he thought of his mother holding this piece of paper； reading the letter； a distress came into him。 She was a blithe； patient woman； but Arren knew that he was the foundation of her contentment； that she longed for his quick return。 There was no way to fort her for his long absence。 His letter was dry and brief。 He signed with the sword…rune； sealed the letter with a bit of pitch from a caulking…pot nearby； and gave it to the ship's master。 Then； 〃Wait！〃 he said； as if the ship were ready to set sail that instant； and ran back up the cobbled streets to the strange little shop。 He had trouble finding it； for there was something shifty about the streets of Thwil； it almost seemed that the turnings were different every time。 He came on the right street at last and darted into the shop under the strings of red clay beads that ornamented its doorway。 When he was buying ink and paper he had noticed； on a tray of clasps and brooches； a silver brooch in the shape of a wild rose； and his mother was called Rose。 〃I'll buy that；〃 he said； in his hasty； princely way。
〃Ancient silverwork of the Isle of O。 I can see you are a judge of the old crafts；〃 said the shopkeeper； looking at the hilt …not the handsome sheath… of Arren's sword。 〃That will be four in ivory。〃
Arren paid the rather high price unquestioning； he had in his purse plenty of the ivory counters that serve as money in the Inner Lands。 The idea of a gift for his mother pleased him； the act of buying pleased him； as he left the shop he set his hand on the pommel of his sword； with a touch of swagger。
His father had given him that sword on the eve of his departure from Enlad。 He had received it solemnly and had worn it； as if it were a duty to wear it； even aboard ship。 He was proud of the weight of it at his hip； the weight of its great age on his spirit。 For it was the sword of Serriadh who was the son of Morred and Elfarran； there was none older in the world except the sword of Erreth…Akbe； which was set atop the Tower of the Kings in Havnor。 The sword of Serriadh had never been laid away or hoarded up； but worn； yet was unworn by the centuries； unweakened； because it had been forged with a great power of enchantment。 Its history said that it never had been drawn； nor ever could be drawn； except in the service of life。 For no purpose of bloodlust or revenge or greed； in no war for gain； would it let itself be wielded。 From it； the great treasure of his family； Arren had received his use…name： Arrendek he had been called as a child； 'the little Sword。'
He had not used the sword； nor had his father； nor his grandfather。 There had been peace in Enlad for a long time。
And now； in the street of the strange town of the Wizards' Isle； the sword's handle felt strange to him when he touched it。 It was awkward to his hand and cold。 Heavy； the sword hindered his walk； dragged at him。 And the wonder he had felt was still in him； but had gone cold。 He went back down to the quay； and gave the brooch to the ship's master for his mother； and bade him farewell and a safe voyage home。 Turning away he pulled his cloak over the sheath that held the old； unyielding weapon； the deadly thing he had inherited。 He did not feel like swaggering any more。 〃What am I doing？〃 he said to himself as he climbed the narrow ways； not hurrying now； to the fortress…bulk of the Great House above the town。 〃How is it that I'm not going home？ Why am I seeking something I don't understand； with a man I don't know？〃
And he had no answer to his questions。
Hort Town
In the darkness before dawn Arren dressed in clothing that had been given him； seaman's garb； wellworn but clean； and hurried down through the silent halls of the Great House to the eastern door； carven of horn and dragon's tooth。 There the Doorkeeper let him out and pointed the way that he should take； smiling a little。 He followed the topmost street of the town and then a path that led down to the boathouses of the School； south along the bay shore from the docks of Thwil。 He could just make out his way。 Trees； roofs； hills bulked as dim masses within dimness； the dark air was utterly still and very cold； everything held still； held itself withdrawn and obscure。 Only over the dark sea eastward was there one faint； clear line： the horizon； tipping momently to
