fs.thethirdbookofswords-第14部分

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ng　genius　as　the　city　walls。　Its　movement　was　assisted　by　great　counterweights　that　rode　on　iron　chains；　supported　by　pulleys　built　into　the　guard…towers　of　the　wall。　The　raising　made　a　familiar　city…morning　noise；　and　took　some　little　time。
　There　was　another　huge　iron　chain　spanning　the　channel　underwater；　as　extra　proof　against　the　passage　of　any　sizeable　hostile　vessel。　But　Denis　did　not　have　to　wait　for　that　to　be　lowered　into　the　bottom　mud。　With　a　wave　of　his　hand　that　was　casually　answered　by　the　watch；　he　headed　out；　plying　his　paddle　energetically。
　He　went　on　up　the　river；　now　and　again　looking　back。　With　the　morning　mist　still　mounting；　the　very　towers　of　Tashigang　seemed　to　be　melting　into　it；　like　some　fabric　of　enchantment。
　Chapter　5
　In　Mark's　ears　was　the　endless　sound　of　hard；　hooflike　footpads　beating　the　earth；　of　moving　animals　and　men。　Day　after　day　in　the　sun　and　dust；　night　after　night　by　firelight；　there　was　not　much　in　the　way　of　human　speech。　He　and　the　patrol　of　the　Dark　King's　troops　escorting　him　entered　and　traversed　lands　heavily　scarred　by　war　and　occupation；　a　region　of　burned…out　villages　and　wasted　fields。　With　each　succeeding　day　the　devastation　appeared　more　recent；　and　Mark　decided　that　the　army　that　had　caused　it　could　no　longer　be　far　away。　The　only　human　inhabitants　of　this　region　clearly　visible　were　the　dead；　those　who　had　been　impaled　or　hanged　for　acts　of　resistance　perhaps；　or　perhaps　only　on　a　whim；　for　a　conqueror's　sport。
　At　first　Mark　had　known　faint　doubts　about　where　he　was　being　taken。　These　now　disappeared。　It　was　his　experience　that　all　armies　on　the　march　caused　destruction；　but　only　the　Dark　King's　forces　moved　with　this　kind　of　relentless　savagery。　A　few　of　the　human　victims　on　display　wore　clothing　that　had　once　been　white；　evidently　not　even　Ardneh's　people　were　being　spared　by　Vilkata　now。
　Even　animal　life　was　scarce；　except　for　the　omni…present　scavenger　birds　and　reptiles。　As　the　patrol　passed；　these　sometimes　rose；　hooting　or　cawing；　from　some　hideous　feast　near　roadside。　Once　a　live　and　healthy…looking　goat　inspected　the　men　through　a　gap　in　a　hedge　as　they　went　cantering　by。
　Mark's　escort　had　never　questioned　his　right　to　give　them　orders；　and　they　got　on　briskly　with　the　business　of　obeying　the　one　real　order　he　had　so　far　issued。　Familiar　as　he　was　with　armies　and　with　war；　he　considered　these　to　be　well…disciplined　and　incredibly　tough…looking　troops。　They　spoke　the　mon　language　with　an　accent　that　Mark　found　unfamiliar；　and　they　wore　Vilkata's　black　and　gold　only　in　the　form　of　small　tokens　pinned　to　their　hats　or　vests　of　curly　fur。
　One　more　thing　about　these　men　was　soon　just　as　apparent　as　their　discipline　and　toughness：　they　were　for　some　reason　mightily　afraid　of　Mark。　In　what　form　they　perceived　him　he　could　only　guess；　but　whatever　it　was　induced　in　them　quiet　terror　and　scrupulous　obedience。
　In　Mark's　immediate　presence　the　men　rarely　spoke　at　all；　even　to　each　other；　but　when　they　were　at　some　distance　he　saw　them　talking　and　gesturing　freely　among　themselves。　Occasionally　when　they　thought　he　was　not　watching　one　of　them　would　make　a　sign　in　his　direction；　that　Mark　interpreted　as　some　kind　of　charm　to　ward　off　danger。　Gradually　he　decided　that　they　must　see　him　as　some　powerful　and　dangerous　wizard　they　knew　to　be　in　Vilkata's　service。
　Upon　recovering　from　their　first　surprise　at　his　approach；　they　had　been　quick　to　offer　him　food　and　drink；　and　his　pick　of　their　riding　beasts　for　his　own　use　…　they　had　been　traveling　with　a　couple　of　spare　mounts。　Each　night　when　they　halted；　Mark　built　his　own　small　fire；　a　little　apart　from　theirs。　He　had　soon　decided　that　they　would　feel　somewhat　easier　that　way；　and　in　truth　he　felt　easier　himself。
　The　country　grew　higher；　and　the　nights；　under　a　Moon　waxing　toward　full；　grew　chill。　Using　the　blanket　that　had　been　rolled　up　behind　the　saddle　of　his　borrowed　mount；　Mark　slept　in　reasonable　fort。　He　slept　with　one　hand　always　on　the　hilt　of　Sightblinder；　though　he　felt　confident　that　the　mere　presence　of　the　Sword　in　his　possession　would　be　enough　to　maintain　his　magical　disguise。　He　was　vaguely　reassured　to　see　that　the　patrol　always　posted　sentries　at　night；　in　a　professional　manner。
　The　journey　proceeded　swiftly。　On　the　afternoon　of　the　fourth　day　after　Mark　had　joined　them；　the　patrol　rode　into　sight　of　Vilkata's　main　encampment。
　As　the　riders　topped　a　small；　barren　rise　of　land；　the　huge　bivouac　came　into　view　a　kilometer　ahead；　on　slightly　lower　ground。　The　sprawling　camp　was　constructed　around　what　looked　to　Mark　like　a　large　parade　ground　of　scraped　and　flattened　earth。　The　camp　appeared　to　be　laid　out　in　good　order；　but　it　was　not　surrounded　by　a　palisade　or　any　other　defensive　works。　Rather　it　sprawled　arrogantly　exposed；　as　if　on　the　assumption　that　no　power　on　earth　was　going　to　dare　attack　it。　Mark　considered　gloomily　that　the　assumption　was　probably　correct。
　As　he　and　his　escort　rode　nearer　to　the　camp；　he　realized　that　it　probably　contained　not　only　more　human　troops　than　he　had　ever　seen　in　one　place　before；　but　a　greater　variety　of　them　as　well；　housed　in　a　wild　assortment　of　tents　and　other　temporary　shelters。　The　outer　pickets　of　the　camp；　men　and　women　patrolling　with　leashed　warbeasts；　made　no　attempt　to　challenge　Mark　and　his　escort　as　they　approached。　And　Mark　observed　that　when　the　human　sentries　were　close　enough　to　get　a　good　look　at　him；　they；　like　his　escort　originally；　shrank　back　perceptibly。
　He　had　to　wonder　again：　Who；　or　what；　did　they　see？　And　who　or　what　would　Vilkata　see　when　Mark　entered　his　presence；　if　Mark　succeeded　in　pushing　matters　that　far？　It　was　hard　for　Mark　to　imagine　that　there　could　be　anyone　the　Dark　King　either　feared　or　loved。
　Only　now；　at　last；　did　Mark　clearly　consider　that　he　might　be　headed　for　a　personal　encounter　with　the　Dark　King。　He　had　first　approached　the　patrol　with　no　more　than　a　vague　idea　of　eavesdropping　on　the　enemy's　secret　councils；　just　as　Draffut　said　he　had　moved　unrecognized　among　the　gods。　Now　for　the　first　time　Mark　saw　that　it　might　be　his　duty　to　acplish　something　more　than　that。　The　thought　was　vastly　intriguing　and　at　the　same　time　deeply　frightening；　and　he　did　not　try　now　to　think　it　through　to　any　definite　conclusion。
　He　rode　on；　still　surrounded　by　his　escort；　until　they　were　somewhere　deep　inside　the　vast　encampment。　There　the　patrol　halted；　and　its　members　began　an　animated　discussion　among　themselves；　in　some　dialect　that　Mark　could　not　really　follow。　Judging　that　the　debate　might　be　on　how　to　separate　themselves　from　him　as　safely　and　properly　as　possible；　he　took　the　matter　into　his　own　hands　by　dismounting；　and　then　dismissing　both　his　steed　and　his　escort　with　what　he　hoped　looked　like　an　arrogantly　confident　wave　of　his　hand。
　Turning　his　back　on　the　patrol　then；　Mark　stalked　away　on　foot；　heading　for　a　tall　flagpole　that　was　visible　above　the　nearby　tents。　The　pole　supported　a　long　banner　of　black　and　gold；　hanging　limp　now　in　the　windless　air。　Mark　hoped　and　expected　that　this　flag　marked　the　location　of　some　central　headquarters。　As　he　walked　toward　it　he　saw　the　heads　of　soldiers　and　camp…followers　turn；　their　attention　following　him　as　he　passed；　and　he　saw　too　that　some　people　either　speeded　up　or　slowed　their　own　progress；　in　order　not　to　cross　his　path　too　closely。
　Now　he　had　to　detour　around　some　warbeasts'　pens；　the　smell　and　the　mewing　of　the　great　catlike　creatures　ing　out　of　them　in　waves。　Now　he　was　in　sight　of　one　corner　of　the　vast　parade　ground。　From　the　farther　reaches　of　its　expanse；　somewhere　out　of　Mark's　sight；　there　sounded　the　chant　and　drumbeat　of　some　hapless　infantry　unit　condemned　to　drilling　in　the　heat。　Looking　across　the　nearest　corner　of　the　field；　he　could　now　see　the　tall　flagpole　at　full　length。　There　was　a　wooden　reviewing　stand　beside　the　flagpole；　and　behind　the　stand　a　magnificent　pavilion。　This　was　a　tent　larger　than　most　houses；　of　black　and　gold　cloth。
　Mark　stalked　directly　toward　the　great　pavilion；　considering　that　it　had　to　be　the　Dark　King's　head…　quarters。　His　right　hand；　riding　on　the　hilt　of　sheathed　Sightblinder；　could　feel　a　new　hum　of　power　in　the　Sword；　perhaps　there　were　guardian　spells　here　that　had　to　be　overe。
　The　front　of　the　reviewing　stand　displayed　another　copy　of　Vilkata's　flag；　this　one　stretched　out　to　reveal　the　design；　a　skull　of　gold　upon　a　field　of　black。　The　eyesockets　of　the　skull　stared　forth　sightlessly；　twin　windows　into　night。
　Again　Mark　had　to　make　a　small　detour；　round　more　low　cages　that　he　at　first　thought　held　more　warbeasts。　But　the　wood…slatted　cages　looked　too　small　for　that。　All　but　one　of　them　were　empty；　and　that　one　held。。。　the　naked　body　confined　inside　was　human。
　Abruptly　something　shimmered　in　the　air　above　Mark's　head；　broadcasting　torment。　As　Mark　moved　instinctively　to　step　aside；　this　presence　moved　with　him。　Only　at　this　moment　did　he　realize　that　it　was　sentient。
　And　only　a　moment　after　that　did　he　realize　that　he　was　being　confronted　by　a　demon。
　And　the　demon　was　addressing　him；　demanding　something　of　him；　though　not　in　human　speech。　Whether　its　munication　was　meant