rj.theshadowrising-第217部分

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　al'Thor　as　he　is　called　now　…　would　be　most　useful；　but　is　it　worth　the　price？　You　can　see　why　I　have　left　the　collar　and　bracelets　where　they　are。〃
　　　　　　　Trembling　to　contain　the　Power；　to　hold　her　woven　flows；　Nynaeve　frowned。　Why　was　the　woman　telling　her　all　of　this？　Did　she　think　it　did　not　matter　because　she　was　going　to　win？　Why　her　sudden　change　from　rage　to　talk？　There　was　sweat　on　Moghedien's　face；　too。　Quite　a　lot　of　sweat；　beading　on　her　broad　forehead；　running　down　her　cheeks。
　　　　　　　Suddenly　everything　changed　in　Nynaeve's　mind。　Moghedien's　was　not　a　voice　tight　with　anger；　it　was　a　voice　tight　with　strain。　Moghedien　was　not　suddenly　going　to　hurl　all　of　her　strength　at　her；　she　already　was。　The　woman　was　putting　out　as　much　effort　as　she。　She　was　facing　one　of　the　Forsaken；　and　far　from　being　plucked　like　a　goose　for　supper；　she　had　not　lost　a　feather。　She　was　meeting　one　of　the　Forsaken；　strength　for　strength！　Moghedien　was　trying　to　distract　her；　to　gain　an　opening　before　her　own　strength　gave　out！　If　only　she　could　do　the　same。　Before　her　strength　went。
　　　　　　　〃Do　you　wonder　how　I　know　all　this？　The　collar　and　bracelets　were　made　after　I　was。。。　Well；　we　will　not　talk　of　that。　Once　I　was　free；　the　first　thing　I　did　was　seek　information　about　those　last　days。　Last　years；　really。　There　are　a　good　many　fragments　here　and　there　that　make　no　sense　to　anyone　who　does　not　have　some　idea　to　begin　with。　The　Age　of　Legends。　Such　a　quaint　name　you　have　given　my　time。　Yet　even　your　wildest　tales　no　more　than　hint　at　the　half。　I　had　lived　over　two　hundred　years　when　the　Bore　was　opened；　and　I　was　still　young；　for　an　Aes　Sedai。　Your　'legends'　are　but　pale　imitations　of　what　we　could　do。　Why。。。〃
　　　　　　　Nynaeve　stopped　listening。　A　way　to　distract　the　woman。　Even　if　she　could　think　of　something　to　say；　Moghedien　would　be　on　her　guard　against　the　method　she　herself　was　using。　She　could　not　spare　effort　for　as　much　as　a　thread…thin　weave；　any　more　than。。。　any　more　than　Moghedien　could。　A　woman　from　the　Age　of　Legends；　a　woman　long　used　to　wielding　the　One　Power。　Perhaps　used　to　doing　almost　everything　with　the　Power　before　she　was　imprisoned。　In　hiding　since　being　freed；　how　used　to　doing　things　without　the　Power　had　she　bee？
　　　　　　　Nynaeve　let　her　legs　sag。　Dropping　the　feather　duster；　she　caught　hold　of　the　pedestal　to　support　herself。　There　was　very　little　fakery　needed。
　　　　　　　Moghedien　smiled　and　took　a　step　nearer。　〃。。。travel　to　other　worlds；　even　worlds　in　the　sky。　Do　you　know　that　the　stars　are。。。〃　So　sure；　that　smile。　So　triumphant。
　　　　　　　Nynaeve　seized　the　collar；　ignoring　the　joltingly　pained　emotions　that　spilled　into　her；　and　hurled　it；　all　in　one　motion。
　　　　　　　The　Forsaken　had　only　begun　to　gape　when　the　wide　black　circlet　struck　her　between　the　eyes。　Not　a　hard　blow；　certainly　not　enough　to　stun；　but　not　expected；　either。　Moghedien's　control　over　her　woven　flows　faltered；　just　slightly；　only　for　an　instant。　Yet　for　that　instant　the　balance　between　them　shifted。　The　shield　of　Spirit　slid　between　Moghedien　and　the　Source；　the　halo　surrounding　her　winked　out。
　　　　　　　The　woman's　eyes　bulged。　Nynaeve　expected　her　to　leap　for　her　throat；　that　was　what　she　would　have　done。　Instead；　Moghedien　jerked　her　skirts　to　her　knees　and　ran。
　　　　　　　With　no　need　to　defend　herself；　it　took　only　a　little　effort　for　Nynaeve　to　weave　Air　around　the　fleeing　woman。　The　Forsaken　froze　in　midstride。
　　　　　　　Hurriedly　Nynaeve　tied　her　weaving。　She　had　done　it。　I　faced　one　of　the　Forsaken　and　beat　her；　she　thought　incredulously。　Looking　at　the　woman　held　from　the　neck　down　by　air　with　the　consistency　of　stone；　even　seeing　her　leaning　forward　on　one　foot；　it　was　hard　to　believe。　Examining　what　she　had　done；　she　saw　it　had　not　been　as　plete　a　victory　as　she　had　wanted。　The　shield　had　blurred　its　sharp　edge　before　it　slid　home。　Moghedien　was　captured　and　shielded；　but　not　stilled。
　　　　　　　Trying　not　to　totter；　she　walked　around　in　front　of　the　other　woman。　Moghedien　still　looked　queenly；　but　like　a　very　frightened　queen；　licking　her　lips；　eyes　darting　wildly。　〃If。。。　if　you　f…free　me；　we　can　c…e　to　s…some　arrangement。　There　is　m…much　I　can　t…teach　you　…〃
　　　　　　　Ruthlessly　Nynaeve　cut　her　off；　weaving　a　gag　of　Air　that　held　the　woman's　jaws　gaping。　〃A　live　mounting　block。　Wasn't　that　what　you　said？　I　think　that　is　a　very　good　idea。　I　like　to　ride。〃　She　smiled　at　the　woman；　whose　eyes　looked　to　be　ing　out　of　her　head。
　　　　　　　Mounting　block　indeed！　Once　Moghedien　had　been　put　on　trial　in　the　Tower　and　stilled　…　there　could　be　no　doubt　of　the　sentence　for　one　of　the　Forsaken　…　she　would　surely　be　put　to　some　useful　work　in　kitchens　or　gardens　or　stables；　except　when　she　was　brought　out　to　show　that　even　the　Forsaken　could　not　escape　justice；　and　treated　no　differently　from　any　other　servant；　beyond　being　watched。　But　let　her　think　Nynaeve　was　as　cruel　as　she。　Let　her　think　it　until　she　was　actually　put　on。。。
　　　　　　　Nynaeve's　mouth　twisted。　Moghedien　was　not　going　to　be　put　on　trial。　Not　now；　anyway。　Not　unless　she　could　figure　out　some　way　to　get　her　out　of　the　Panarch's。　Palace。　The　woman　seemed　to　believe　the　grimace　portended　something　ill　for　her；　tears　leaked　from　her　eyes；　and　her　mouth　worked；　trying　to　force　words　past　the　gag。
　　　　　　　Disgusted　with　herself；　Nynaeve　walked　unsteadily　back　to　where　the　black　collar　lay；　stuffing　it　quickly　into　her　belt　pouch　before　the　stark　emotions　in　it　could　do　more　than　touch　her。　The　bracelets　followed；　with　the　same　feelings　of　suffering　and　sorrow。　I　was　ready　to　torture　her　by　letting　her　think　I　would！　She　deserves　it　surely；　but　that　is　not　me。　Or　is　it？　Am　I　no　better　than　Egeanin？
　　　　　　　She　jerked　around；　furious　that　she　could　even　consider　such　a　question；　and　stalked　past　Moghedien　to　the　glass…walled　table。　There　had　to　be　some　way　to　bring　the　woman　to　justice。
　　　　　　　There　were　seven　figurines　in　the　case。　Seven；　and　no　seal。
　　　　　　　For　a　moment　she　could　only　stare。　One　of　the　figures；　an　odd　animal　shaped　roughly　like　a　pig　but　with　a　large　round　snout　and　feet　as　wide　as　its　thick　legs；　stood　where　the　seal　had；　in　the　center　of　the　table。　Suddenly　her　eyes　narrowed。　It　was　not　really　there；　the　thing　was　woven　from　Air　and　Fire；　in　flows　so　minute　they　made　cobwebs　seem　cables。　Even　concentrating；　she　could　barely　see　them。　She　doubted　if　Liandrin　or　any　of　the　other　Black　sisters　could　have。　A　tiny；　slicing　flick　of　the　Power；　and　the　fat　animal　vanished；　in　its　place　the　black…and…white　seal　on　its　red…lacquered　stand。　Moghedien；　the　hider；　had　hidden　it　in　plain　sight。　Fire　melted　a　hole　in　the　glass；　and　the　seal　went　into　her　pouch；　too。　It　bulged　now；　and　pulled　her　belt　down。
　　　　　　　Frowning　at　the　woman　poised　on　the　toe　of　one　slipper；　she　tried　to　think　of　some　means　of　taking　her　as　well。　But　Moghedien　would　not　fit　in　her　pouch；　and　she　rather　thought　that　even　if　she　could　pick　the　other　woman　up；　the　sight　might　raise　a　few　eyebrows。　Still；　as　she　made　her　way　to　the　nearest　arched　doorway；　she　could　not　help　looking　back　every　other　step。　If　only　there　was　some　way。　Pausing　for　one　last；　regretful　look　from　the　doorway；　she　turned　to　go。
　　　　　　　This　door　opened　onto　a　courtyard　with　a　fountain　full　of　lilypads。　On　the　other　side　of　the　fountain；　a　slim；　coppery…skinned　woman　in　a　pale　cream　Taraboner　dress　that　would　have　made　Rendra　blush　was　just　raising　a　fluted　black　rod　a　pace　in　length。　Nynaeve　recognized　Jeaine　Caide。　More；　she　recognized　the　rod。
　　　　　　　Desperately　she　flung　herself　to　one　side；　so　hard　that　she　slid　along　the　smooth　white　floorstones　until　one　of　the　thin　columns　stopped　her　with　a　jar。　A　leg…thick　bar　of　white　shot　through　where　she　had　been　standing；　as　if　the　air　had　turned　to　molten　metal；　slicing　all　the　way　across　the　exhibition　hall；　where　it　struck；　pieces　simply　vanished　out　of　columns；　priceless　artifacts　ceased　to　exist。　Hurling　flows　of　Fire　behind　her　blindly；　hoping　to　strike　something；　anything；　in　the　courtyard；　Nynaeve　scrambled　away　across　the　hall　on　hands　and　knees。　Little　more　than　waist…high；　the　bar　sawed　sideways；　carving　a　swathe　through　both　walls；　between；　cases　and　cabinets　and　wired　skeletons　collapsed　and　crashed。　Severed　columns　quivered；　some　fell；　but　what　dropped　onto　that　terrible　sword　did　not　survive　to　smash　displays　and　pedestals　to　the　floor。　The　glass…walled　table　fell　before　the　molten　shaft　vanished；　leaving　a　purplish　bar　that　seemed　burned　into　Nynaeve's　vision；　the　cuendillar　figures　were　all　that　dropped　out　of　that　molten　white　shaft；　bouncing　on　the　floor。
　　　　　　　The　figurines　did　not　break；　of　course。　It　seemed　Moghedien　was　right；　not　even　balefire　could　destroy　cuendillar。　That　black　rod　was　one　of　the　stolen　ter'angreal。　Nynaeve　could　remember　the　warning　appended　to　their　list　in　a　firm　hand。　Produces　balefire。　Dangerous　and　almost　impossible　to　control。
　　　　　　　Moghedien　seemed　to　be　trying　to　scream　through　her　invisible　gag；　head　whipping　back　and　forth　in　a　frenzy　as　she　fought　her　bonds　of　Air；　but　Nynaeve　spared　her　no　more　than　a　glance。　As　soon　as　the　balefire　disappeared；　she　raised　herself　up　enough　to　peer　back　across　the　hall；　through　the　rent　sawed　along　the　chamber