rj.theshadowrising-第19部分
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or rested。 Blood from hundreds of cuts covered him。 He lifted the sword； and its glassy length glowed with the Power flowing into it。 The Sword That Is Not a Sword。 That blade； apparently glass； would cut as well as the finest steel； yet Callandor truly was not a sword； but instead a remnant of the Age of Legends； a sa'angreal。 With the aid of one of the relatively few angreal known to have survived the War of the Shadow and Breaking of the World； it was possible to channel flows of the One Power that would have burned the channeler to ash without it。 With one of the even rarer sa'angreal； the flows could be increased as much over those possible with an angreal as an angreal increased them over channeling naked。 And Callandor； usable only by a man； linked to the Dragon Reborn through three thousand years of legend and prophecy； was one of the most powerful sa'angreal ever made。 Holding Callandor in his hands； he could level a city's walls at a blow。 Holding Callandor in his hands； he could face even one of the Forsaken。 It was them。 It must have been。
Abruptly he realized he had not heard a sound from Berelain。 Half fearing to see her dead； he turned。
Still kneeling； she flinched。 She had donned her robe again； arid hugged it around her like steel armor； or stone walls。 Face as white as snow； she licked her lips。 〃Which one are。。。 ？〃 She swallowed and began again。 〃Which one。。。 ？〃 She could not finish it。
〃I am the only one there is；〃 he said gently。 〃The one you were treating as if we were betrothed。〃 He meant it to soothe her； perhaps make her smile … surely a woman as strong as she had shown herself to be could smile； even facing a blood…drenched man … but she bent forward； pressing her face to the floor。
〃I apologize humbly for having most grievously offended you； Lord Dragon。〃 Her breathy voice did sound humble； and frightened。 pletely unlike herself。 〃I beg you to forget my offense； and forgive。 I will not bother you again。 I swear it； my Lord Dragon。 On my mother's name and under the Light； I swear it。〃
He loosed the knotted flow； the invisible wall confining her became a momentary stir that ruffled her robe。 〃There is nothing to forgive；〃 he said wearily。 He felt very tired。 〃Go as you wish。〃
She straightened hesitantly； stretched out a hand； and gave a relieved gasp when it encountered nothing。 Gathering the skirts of her robe； she began to pick her way across the glass…littered carpet； shards grating under her velvet slippers。 Short of the door； she stopped； facing him with an obvious effort。 Her eyes could not quite meet his。 〃I will send the Aiel in to you； if you wish。 I could send for one of the Aes Sedai to tend your wounds。〃
She would as soon be in a room with a Myrddraal； now； or the Dark One himself； but she's no milksop。 〃Thank you；〃 he said quietly； 〃but no。 I would appreciate it if you told no one what happened here。 Not yet。 I will do what needs to be done。〃 It had to be the Forsaken。
〃As my Lord Dragon mands。〃 She gave him a tight curtsy and hurried out； perhaps afraid he might change his mind about letting her go。
〃As soon the Dark One himself；〃 he murmured as the door closed behind her。
Limping to the foot of the bed； he lowered himself into the chest there and laid Callandor across his knees； bloody hands resting on the glowing blade。 With that in his hands； even one of the Forsaken would fear him。 In a moment he would send for Moiraine to Heal his wounds。 In a moment he would speak to the Aiel outside； and bee the Dragon Reborn again。 But for now； he only wanted to sit； and remember a shepherd named Rand al'Thor。
Chapter 3
（Dragon's Fang）
Reflection
Despite the hour； a good many people were hurrying through the Stone's wide corridors； a steady trickle of men and women in the black and gold of Stone servants or the livery of one High Lord or another。 Now and again a Defender or two appeared； bareheaded and unarmed； some with their coats undone。 The servants bowed or curtsied to Perrin and Faile if they came close； then hurried on with hardly a pause。 Most of the soldiers gave a start on seeing them。 Some bowed stiffly； hand to heart； but one and all quickened their steps as if eager to be away。
Only one lamp in three or four was lit。 In the dim stretches between their tall stands； shadows blurred the hanging tapestries and obscured the occasional chest against the wall。 For any eyes but Perrin's； they did。 His eyes glowed like burnished gold in those murky lengths of hall。 He walked quickly from lamp to lamp and kept his gaze down unless he was in full light。 Most people in the Stone knew about his strangely colored eyes； one way or another。 None of them mentioned it； of course。 Even Faile seemed to assume the color was part of his association with an Aes Sedai； something that simply was； to be accepted but never explained。 Even so； a prickling always ran across his back whenever he realized that a stranger had seen his eyes shining in the dark。 When they held their tongues； the silence only emphasized his apartness。
〃I wish they wouldn't look at me like that；〃 he muttered as a grizzled Defender twice his age came close to running once he had passed。 〃As though they are afraid of me。 They haven't before； not this way。 Why aren't all these people in bed？〃 A woman carrying a mop and a bucket bobbed a curtsy and scurried by with her head down。
Her arm twined through his； Faile glanced at him。 〃I would say the guards are not supposed to be in this part of the Stone unless they are on duty。 A good time to cuddle a maid on a lord's chair； and maybe pretend they are the lord and lady； while lord and lady are asleep。 They are probably worried that you might report them。 And servants do most of their work at night。 Who would want them underfoot； sweeping and dusting and polishing； in daylight？〃
Perrin nodded doubtfully。 He supposed she would know about such things from her father's house。 A successful merchant likely had servants； and guards for his wagons。 At least these folk were not out of their beds because what had happened to him had happened to them； too。 If that were the case； they would be out of the Stone altogether； and likely still running。 But why had he been a target； singled out； as it seemed？ He was not looking forward to confronting Rand； but he had to know。 Faile had to stretch her stride to keep up with him。
For all its splendor； all the gold and fine carving and inlays； the interior of the Stone had been designed for war as much as its exterior had been。 Murderholes dotted the ceiling wherever corridors crossed。 Never used arrowslits peeked into the halls at places where they might cover an entire hallway。 He and Faile climbed narrow； curving staircase after narrow； curving staircase； all built into the walls or else enclosed； with more arrowslits looking down on the corridor below。 None of this design had hampered the Aiel； of course； the first enemy ever to get beyond the outer wall。
As they trotted up one of the winding stairs … Perrin did not realize they were trotting； though he would have been moving faster if not for Faile on his arm … he caught a whiff of old sweat and a hint of sickly…sweet perfume； but they registered only in the back of his brain。 He was caught up in what he was going to say to Rand。 Why did you try to kill me？ Are you going mad already？ There was no easy way to ask； and he did not expect easy answers。
Stepping out into a shadowed corridor nearly at the top of the Stone； he found himself staring at the backs of a High Lord and two of the nobleman's personal guards。 Only the Defenders were allowed to wear armor inside the Stone； but these three had swords at their hips。 That was not unusual； of course； but their presence here； on this floor； in the shadows； staring intently at the bright light at the far end of the hall； that was not usual at all。 That light came from the anteroom in front of the chambers Rand had been given。 Or taken。 Or maybe been pushed into by Moiraine。
Perrin and Faile had made no effort to be quiet in climbing the stairs； but the three men were so intent in their watching that none of them noticed the new arrivals at first。 Then one of the blue…coated bodyguards twisted his head as if working a cramp in his neck； his mouth dropped open when he saw them。 Biting off an oath； the fellow whirled to face Perrin； baring a good hand of his sword blade。 The other was only a heartbeat slower。 Both stood tensed； ready； but their eyes shifted uneasily； sliding off Perrin's。 They gave off a sour smell of fear。 So did the High Lord； though he had his fear tightly reined。
The High Lord Torean； white streaking his dark； pointed beard； moved languidly； as if at a ball。 Pulling a too sweetly scented handkerchief from his sleeve； he dabbed at a knobby nose that appeared not at all large when pared with his ears。 A fine silk coat with red satin cuffs only exaggerated the plainness of his face。 He eyed Perrin's shirtsleeves and dabbed his nose again before inclining his head slightly。 〃The Light illumine you；〃 he said politely。 His glance touched Perrin's yellow stare and flinched away； though his expression
