rz.signoftheunicorn-第31部分

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　Among　them；　through　them；　almost　running　now。。。　Monochrome　of　my　home。。。　Apprehension　overtakes　me。。。　The　black　spots　seem　like　holes　in　this　piece　of　reality　now。。。　I　fear　to　pass　too　near。　Fall　in　and　be　lost。。。
　Turning。。。　Crossing。。。　Finally。。。　Entering。。。　The　throne　room。。。　Bushels　of　blackness　stacked　where　my　eyes　would　drive　down　lines　of　seeing　to　the　throne　itself。。。
　There；　though；　is　movement。
　A　drifting；　to　my　right；　as　I　advance。
　A　lifting；　with　the　drifting。
　The　boots　on　feet　on　legs　e　into　view　as　forward　pressing　I　near　the　place's　base。
　Grayswandir　es　into　my　hand；　finding　its　way　into　a　patch　of　light；　renewing　its　eyetricking；　shapeshifting　stretch；　acquiring　a　glow　of　its　own。。。
　I　place　my　left　foot　on　the　step；　rest　my　left　hand　on　my　knee。　Distracting　but　bearable；　the　throb　of　my　healing　gut。　I　wait　for　the　blackness；　the　emptiness；　to　be　drawn；　appropriate　curtain　for　the　theatrics　with　which　I　am　burdened　this　night。
　And　it　slides　aside；　revealing　a　hand；　an　arm；　a　shoulder；　the　arm　a　glinting；　metallic　thing；　its　planes　like　the　facets　of　a　gem；　its　wrist　and　elbow　wondrous　weaves　of　silver　cable；　pinned　with　flecks　of　fire；　the　hand；　stylized；　skeletal；　a　Swiss　toy；　a　mechanical　insect；　functional；　deadly；　beautiful　in　its　way。。。
　And　it　slides　aside；　revealing　the　rest　of　the　man。。。
　Benedict　stands　relaxed　beside　the　throne；　his　left　and　human　hand　laid　lightly　upon　it。　He　leans　toward　the　throne。　His　lips　are　moving。
　And　it　slides　aside；　revealing　the　throne's　occupant。。。
　〃Dara！〃
　Turned　toward　her　right；　she　smiles；　she　nods　to　Benedict；　her　lips　move。　I　advance　and　extend　Grayswandir　till　its　point　rests　lightly　in　the　concavity　beneath　her　sternum。。。
　Slowly；　quite　slowly；　she　turns　her　head　and　meets　my　eyes。　She　takes　on　color　and　life。　Her　lips　move　again；　and　this　time　her　words　reach　me。
　〃What　are　you？〃
　〃No。　That　is　my　question。　You　answer　it。　Now。〃
　〃I　am　Dara。　Dara　of　Amber；　Queen　Dara。　I　hold　this　throne　by　right　of　blood　and　conquest。　Who　are　you？〃
　〃Corwin。　Also　of　Amber。　Don't　move！　I　did　not　ask　who　you　are　…〃
　〃Corwin　is　dead　these　many　centuries。　I　have　seen　his　tomb。〃
　〃Empty。〃
　〃Not　so。　His　body　lies　within。〃
　〃Give　me　your　lineage！〃
　Her　eyes　move　to　her　right；　where　the　shade　of　Benedict　still　stands。　A　blade　has　appeared　in　his　new　hand；　seeming　almost　an　extension　of　it；　but　he　holds　it　loosely；　casually。　His　left　hand　now　rests　on　her　arm。　His　eyes　seek　me　in　back　of　Grayswandir's　hilt。　Failing；　they　go　again　to　that　which　is　visible　…　Grayswandir　…　recognizing　its　design。。。
　〃I　am　the　great…granddaughter　of　Benedict　and　the　hellmaid　Lintra；　whom　he　loved　and　later　slew。〃　Benedict　winces　at　this；　but　She　continues。　〃I　never　knew　her。　My　mother　and　my　mother's　mother　were　born　in　a　place　where　time　does　not　run　as　in　Amber。　I　am　the　first　of　my　mother's　line　to　bear　all　the　marks　of　humanity。　And　you；　Lord　Corwin；　are　but　a　ghost　from　a　long　dead　past；　albeit　a　dangerous　shade。　How　you　came　here；　I　do　not　know。　But　it　was　wrong　of　you。　Return　to　your　grave。　Trouble　not　the　living。〃
　My　hand　wavers。　Grayswandir　strays　no　more　than　half　an　inch。　Yet　that　is　sufficient。
　Benedict's　thrust　is　below　my　threshold　of　perception。　His　new　arm　drives　the　new　hand　that　holds　the　blade　that　strikes　Grayswandir；　as　his　old　arm　draws　his　old　hand；　which　has　seized　upon　Dara；　back　across　the　arm　of　the　throne。。。　This　subliminal　impression　reaches　me　moments　later；　as　I　fall　back；　cutting　air；　recover　and　strike　an　en　garde；　reflexively。。。　It　is　ridiculous　for　a　pair　of　ghosts　to　fight。　Here；　it　is　uneven。　He　cannot　even　reach　me；　whereas　Grayswandir　…
　But　no！　His　blade　changes　hands　as　he　releases　Dara　and　pivots；　bringing　them　together；　old　hand　and　new。　His　left　wrist　rotates　as　he　slides　it　forward　and　down；　moving　into　what　would　be　corps　a　corps；　were　we　two　facing　mortal　bodies。　For　a　moment　our　guards　are　locked。　That　moment　is　enough。。。
　That　gleaming；　mechanical　hand　es　forward；　a　thing　of　moonlight　and　fire；　blackness　and　smoothness；　all　angles；　no　curves；　fingers　slightly　flexed；　palm　silverscribbled　with　a　half…familiar　design；　es　forward；　es　forward　and　catches　at　my　throat。。。
　Missing；　the　fingers　catch　my　shoulder　and　the　thumb　goes　hooking…whether　for　clavicle　or　larynx；　I　do　not　know。　I　throw　one　punch　with　my　left；　toward　his　midsection；　and　there　is　nothing　there。。。
　The　voice　of　Random：　〃Corwin！　The　sun　is　about　to　rise！　You've　got　to　e　down　now！〃
　I　cannot　even　answer。　A　second　or　two　and　that　hand　would　tear　away　whatever　it　held。　That　hand。。。　Grayswandir　and　that　hand；　which　strangely　resembles　it；　are　the　only　two　things　which　seem　to　coexist　in　my　world　and　the　city　of　ghosts。。。
　〃I　see　it；　Corwin！　Pull　away　and　reach　for　me！　The　Trump　…〃
　I　spin　Grayswandir　out　of　the　bind　and　bring　it　around　and　down　in　a　long；　slashing　arc。。。
　Only　a　ghost　could　have　beaten　Benedict　or　Benedict's　ghost　with　that　maneuver。　We　stand　too　close　for　him　to　block　my　blade；　but　his　countercut；　perfectly　placed；　would　have　removed　my　arm；　had　there　been　an　arm　there　to　meet　it。。。
　As　there　is　not；　I　plete　the　stroke；　delivering　the　blow　with　the　full　force　of　my　right　arm；　high　upon　that　lethal　device　of　moonlight　and　fire；　blackness　and　smoothness；　near　to　the　point　where　it　is　joined　with　him。
　With　an　evil　tearing　at　my　shoulder；　the　arm　es　away　from　Benedict　and　grows　still。。。　We　both　fall。
　〃Get　up！　By　the　unicorn；　Corwin；　get　up！　The　sun　is　rising！　The　city　will　e　apart　about　you！〃
　The　floor　beneath　me　wavers　to　and　from　a　misty　transparency。　I　glimpse　a　light…scaled　expanse　of　water。　I　roll　to　my　feet；　barely　avoiding　the　ghost's　rush　to　clutch　at　the　arm　he　has　lost。　It　clings　like　a　dead　parasite　and　my　side　is　hurting　again。。。
　Suddenly　I　am　heavy　and　the　vision　of　ocean　does　not　fade。　I　begin　to　sink　through　the　floor。　Color　returns　to　the　world；　wavering　stripes　of　pink。　The　Corwin…spurning　floor　parts　and　the　Corwin…killing　gulf　is　opened。。。
　I　fall。。。
　〃This　way；　Corwin！　Now！〃
　Random　stands　on　a　mountaintop　and　reaches　for　me。　I　extend　my　hand。。。
　
　
　Chapter　11
　
　。。。　And　frying　pans　without　fires　are　often　far　between。。。
　We　untangled　ourselves　and　rose。　I　sat　down　again　immediately；　on　the　bottommost　stair。　I　worked　the　metal　hand　loose　from　my　shoulder　…　no　blood　there；　but　a　promise　of　bruises　to　e　…　then　cast　it　and　its　arm　to　the　ground。　The　light　of　early　morning　did　not　detract　from　its　exquisite　and　menacing　appearance。
　Ganelon　and　Random　stood　beside　me。
　〃You　all　right；　Corwin？〃
　〃Yes。　Just　let　me　catch　my　breath。〃
　〃I　brought　food；〃　Random　said。　〃We　could　have　breakfast　right　here。〃
　〃Good　idea。〃
　As　Random　began　unpacking　provisions；　Ganelon　nudged　the　arm　with　the　toe　of　his　boot。
　〃What　the　hell；〃　he　asked；　〃is　that？〃
　I　shook　my　head。
　〃I　lopped　it　off　the　ghost　of　Benedict；〃　I　told　him。　〃For　reasons　I　do　not　understand；　it　was　able　to　reach　me。〃
　He　stooped　and　picked　it　up；　studied　it。
　〃A　lot　lighter　than　I　thought　it　would　be；〃　he　observed。　He　raked　the　air　with　it。　〃You　could　do　quite　a　job　on　someone；　with　a　hand　like　that。〃
　〃I　know。〃
　He　worked　the　fingers。
　〃Maybe　the　real　Benedict　could　use　it。〃
　〃Maybe；〃　I　said。　〃My　feelings　are　quite　mixed　when　it　es　to　offering　it　to　him；　but　possibly　you're　right。。。〃
　〃How's　the　side？〃
　I　prodded　it　gently。
　〃Not　especially　bad；　everything　considered。　I'll　be　able　to　ride　after　breakfast；　so　long　as　we　take　it　nice　and　easy。〃
　〃Good。　Say；　Corwin；　while　Random　is　getting　things　ready；　I　have　a　question　that　may　be　out　of　order；　but　it　has　been　bothering　me　all　along。〃
　〃Ask　it。〃
　〃Well；　let　me　put　it　this　way：　I　am　all　for　you；　or　I　would　not　be　here。　I　will　fight　for　you　to　have　your　throne；　no　matter　what。　But　every　time　talk　of　the　succession　occurs；　someone　gets　angry　and　breaks　it　off　or　the　subject　gets　changed。　Like　Random　did；　while　you　were　up　there。　I　suppose　that　it　is　not　absolutely　essential　for　me　to　know　the　basis　of　your　claim　to　the　throne；　or　that　of　any　of　the　others；　but　I　cannot　help　being　curious　as　to　the　reasons　for　all　the　friction。〃
　I　sighed；　then　sat　silent　for　a　time。
　〃All　right；〃　I　said　after　a　while；　and　then　I　chuckled。　〃All　right。　If　we　cannot　agree　on　these　things　ourselves；　I　would　guess　that　they　must　seem　pretty　confused　to　an　outsider。　Benedict　is　the　eldest。　His　mother　was　Cymnea。　She　bore　Dad　two　other　sons；　also　…　Osric　and　Finndo。　Then　…　how　does　one　put　these　things？　…　Faiella　bore　Eric。　After　that；　Dad　found　some　defect　in　his　marriage　with　Cymnea　and　had　it　dissolved　…　ab　initio；　as　they　would　say　in　my　old　shadow　…　from　the　beginning。　Neat　trick；　that。　But　he　was　the　king。〃
　〃Didn't　that　make　all　of　them　illegitimate？〃
　〃Well；　it　left　their　status　less　certain。　Osric　and　Finndo　were　more　than　a　little　irritated；　as　I　understand　it；　but　they　died　shortly　thereafter。　Benedict　was　either　less　irritated　or　more　politic　about　the　entire　affair。　He　never　raised　a　fuss。　Dad　then　married　Faiella。〃
　〃And　that　made　Eric　legitimate？〃
　〃It　would　have；　if　he　had　acknowledged　Eric　as　his　son。　He　treated　him　as　if　he　were；　but