rj.theshadowrising-第10部分
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belief that she was incapable of lying。 None of the women collared on the mainland were fully obedient； trustworthy； not like the damane brought from Seanchan。 None of them truly accepted what they were； as Seanchan damane did。 Who could say what secrets might hide in one who had called herself Aes Sedai？
Not for the first time Suroth wished she had the other Aes Sedai who had been captured on Toman Head。 With two to question； there would have been a better chance to catch lies and evasions。 It was a useless wish。 The other could be dead； drowned at sea； or on display at the Court of the Nine Moons。 Some of the ships Suroth had failed to gather in must have managed the journey back across the ocean； and one might well have carried the woman。
She herself had sent a ship carrying carefully crafted reports； nearly half a year ago now； as soon as she had solidified her control of the Forerunners； with a captain and crew from families that had served hers since Luthair Paendrag had proclaimed himself Emperor； nearly a thousand years ago。 Dispatching the ship had been a gamble； for the Empress might send back someone to take Suroth's place。 Not sending the vessel would have been a greater； though； only utter and crushing victory could have saved her then。 Perhaps not even that。 So the Empress knew of Falme； knew of Turak's disaster and Suroth's intention to go on。 But what did she think of that knowledge； and what was she doing about it？ That was a greater concern than any damane； whatever she had been before collaring。
Yet the Empress did not know everything。 The worst could not be entrusted to any messenger； no matter how loyal。 It would only be passed from Suroth's lips directly to the ear of the Empress； and Suroth had taken pains to keep it so。 Only four still lived who knew the secret； and two of those would never speak of it to anyone； not of their own volition。 Only three deaths can hold it more tightly。
Suroth did not realize she had murmured the last aloud until Alwhin said； 〃And yet the High Lady needs all three alive。〃 The woman had a properly humble suppleness to her stance； even to the trick of downcast eyes that still managed to watch for any sign from Suroth。 Her voice was humble； too。 〃Who can say； High Lady； what the Empress … may she live forever！ … might do if she learned of an attempt to keep such knowledge from her？〃
Instead of answering； Suroth made the tiny dismissing gesture once more。 Again Alwhin hesitated … this time it had to be simple reluctance to leave； the woman rose above herself！ … before bowing deeply and backing out of Suroth's presence。
With an effort Suroth found calmness。 The sul'dam and the other two were a problem she could not solve now； but patience was a necessity for the Blood。 Those who lacked it were likely to end in the Tower of Ravens。
On the terrace； kneeling servants leaned forward a hair in readiness as she appeared again。 The soldiers maintained their watch to see she was undisturbed。 Suroth took up her place before the balustrade； this time staring out to sea； toward the mainland hundreds of miles to the east。
To be the one who successfully led the Forerunners； who began the Return； would bring much honor。 Perhaps even adoption into the family of the Empress； though that was an honor not without plications。 To also be the one who captured this Dragon； whether false or real； along with the means of controlling his incredible power。。。。
But if…when I take him； do I give him to the Empress？ That is the question。
Her long nails began to click again on the wide stone rail。
Chapter 2
（Dragon）
Whirlpools in the Pattern
Inland the hot night wind blew； north across the vast delta called the Fingers of the Dragon； a winding maze of waterways broad and narrow； some choked with knifegrass。 Vast plains of reeds separated clusters of low islands forested with spider…rooted trees seen nowhere else。 Eventually the delta gave way to its source； the River Erinin； the river's great width spotted with the lights of small boats lantern…fishing。 Boats and lights bobbed wildly； sudden and unexpected； and some older men muttered of evil things passing in the night。 Young men laughed； but they hauled the nets more vigorously； too； eager to be home and out of the dark。 The stories said evil could not cross your threshold unless you invited it in。 That was what the stories said。 But out in the darkness。。。。
The last tang of salt had vanished by the time the wind reached the great city of Tear； hard by the river； where tile…roofed inns and shops shouldered against tall； towered palaces gleaming in the moonlight。 Yet no place was half so tall as the massive bulk； almost a mountain； that stretched from city's heart to water's edge。 The Stone of Tear； fortress of legend； the oldest stronghold of mankind； erected in the last days of the Breaking of the World。 While nations and empires rose and fell； were replaced and fell anew； the Stone stood。 It was the rock on which armies had broken spears and swords and hearts for three thousand years。 And in all that time it had never fallen to invading arms。 Until now。
The streets of the city； the taverns and inns； were all but empty in the muggy darkness； people keeping cautiously within their own walls。 Who held the Stone was lord of Tear； city and nation。 That was the way it had always been； and the people of Tear accepted it always。 By daylight they would cheer their new lord with enthusiasm as they had cheered the old； by night they huddled together； shivering despite the heat when the wind howled across their rooftops like a thousand keening mourners。 Strange new hopes danced in their heads； hopes none in Tear had dared for a hundred generations； hopes mixed with fears as old as the Breaking。
The wind lashed the long； white banner catching the moon above the Stone as if trying to rip it away。 Along its length marched a sinuous figure like a legged serpent； golden…maned like a lion； scaled in scarlet and gold； seeming to ride the wind。 Banner of prophecy； hoped for and dreaded。 Banner of the Dragon。 The Dragon Reborn。 Harbinger of the world's salvation； and herald of a new Breaking to e。 As if outraged at such defiance； the wind dashed itself against the hard walls of the Stone。 The Dragon banner floated； unheeding in the night； awaiting greater storms。
In a room more than halfway up the Stone's southern face； Perrin sat on the chest at the foot of his canopied bed and watched the dark…haired young woman pacing up and down。 There was a trace of wariness in his golden eyes。 Usually Faile bantered with him； maybe poked a little gentle fun at his deliberate ways； tonight she had not said ten words since ing through the door。 He could smell the rose petals that had been folded into her clothes after cleaning； and the scent that was just her。 And in the hint of clean perspiration； he smelled nervousness。 Faile almost never showed nerves。 Wondering why she did now set an itch between his shoulders that had nothing to do with the night's heat。 Her narrow； divided skirts made a soft whisk…whisk…whisk with her strides。
He scratched his two…week growth of beard irritably。 It was even curlier than the hair on his head。 It was also hot。 For the hundredth time he thought of shaving。
〃It suits you；〃 Faile said suddenly； stopping in her tracks。
Unfortably； he shrugged shoulders heavy from long hours working at a forge。 She did that sometimes； seemed to know what he was thinking。 〃It itches；〃 he muttered； and wished he had spoken more forcefully。 It was his beard； he could shave it off any time he wanted。
She studied him； her head tilted to one side。 Her bold nose and high cheekbones made it seem a fierce study； a contrast to the soft voice in which she said； 〃It looks right on you。〃
Perrin sighed； and shrugged again。 She had not asked him to keep the beard； and she would not。 Yet he knew he was going to put off shaving again。 He wondered how his friend Mat would handle this situation。 Probably with a pinch and a kiss and some remark that made her laugh until he brought her around to his way of thinking。 But Perrin knew he did not have Mat's way with the girls。 Mat would never find himself sweating behind a beard just because a woman thought he should have hair on his face。 Unless； maybe； the woman was Faile。 Perrin suspected that her father must deeply regret her leaving home； and not just because she was his daughter。 He was the biggest fur trader in Saldaea； so she claimed； and Perrin could see her getting the price she wanted every time。
〃Something is troubling you； Faile； and it isn't my beard。 What is it？〃
Her expression became guarded。 She looked everywhere but at him； making a contemptuous survey of the room's furnishings。
Carvings of leopards and lions； stooping hawks and hunting scenes decorated everything from the tall wardrobe and bedposts as thick as his leg to the padded bench in front of the cold marble fireplace。 Some of the animals had garnet eyes。
He had tried to convince the majhere that he wanted a simple room； but she did not seem to understand。 Not that she was stupid or slow。 The majhere manded an army of servants greater in numb
