fs.thethirdbookofswords-第26部分

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Kristin　that　she　marry　him。　Mark　made；　not　for　the　first　time　on　this　journey；　a　silent　vow　to　see　that　she　never　regretted　that　decision。
　He　was　cheered　to　see　that　happiness　increasingly　dominated　her　mood　as　they　went　on。　She　was　ing　home；　she　was　going　to　see　a　family　and　friends　who　must　at　the　very　least　be　badly　worried　about　her　now；　who　might　very　possibly　have　given　her　up　for　dead。
　The　road；　now　well　paved；　rounded　a　shoulder　of　the　same　small　mountain　upon　whose　peak　they　had　seen　the　heliograph。　Then　it　promptly　turned　into　a　cobblestone　street；　as　the　travelers　found　themselves　entering　the　first　village　of　Tasavalta。　It　was；　Mark　decided；　really　a　small　town。　He　wondered　what　it　was　called。　Not　far　ahead　on　the　right　was　a　small；　clean…looking　inn；　and　he　suggested　that　they　stop。　He　had　a　little　money　with　him　still；　carried　in　an　inner　pocket。　〃If　they　will　let　us　in；　we　do　look　somewhat　ragged。〃　Their　scavenging　through　deserted　houses　had　added　to　their　wardrobe；　but　only　doubtfully　improved　its　quality。
　〃All　right。　We　can　stop　anywhere。　It　makes　little　difference　now。〃　Kristin　looked　him　squarely　in　the　eye；　and　added　warmly：　〃I　love　you。〃
　It　was　something　they　said　to　each　other；　in　endless　variations；　a　hundred　times　a　day。　Why　should　the　effect；　this　time；　be　almost　chilling；　as　if　she　were　telling　him　goodbye
　〃And　I　love　you；〃　he　answered　softly。
　She　turned　her　head　away　from　him；　to　look　toward　the　inn；　and　something　in　her　aspect　froze。　Mark　followed　her　gaze。　Now　they　were　close　enough　to　the　inn　for　him　to　see　the　white　ribbon　of　mourning　that　was　stretched　above　the　door。　And　there　was　another　white　ribbon；　now　that　he　looked　for　it；　wrapped　round　the　arch　of　the　gate　leading　into　the　inn's　courtyard　from　the　street。
　He　said　to　Kristin：　〃Someone　in　the　innkeeper's　family。。。〃
　She　had　turned　in　her　saddle　again；　and　was　looking　wordlessly　up　and　down　the　street。　Now　that　they　were　closer　to　the　other　doors　and　gateways　they　could　see　the　white　bands　plainly；　everywhere。　In　this　town　the　badge　of　mourning　appeared　to　be　universal。
　〃What　is　it；　then？〃　The　words　burst　from　Kristin　in　a　scream；　a　sound　that　Mark　had　never　heard　from　her　before。　He　stared　at　her。　They　had　stopped；　just　outside　the　open　gateway　of　the　courtyard　of　the　inn。
　In　response　to　the　outcry　an　old　woman　in　an　apron；　the　innkeeper's　wife　by　the　look　of　her；　appeared　just　inside　the　yard。　In　a　cracked　voice　she　admonished；　〃Where've　you　been；　young　woman；　that　you　don't　know。。。〃
　At　that　point　the　old　woman　halted　suddenly。　Her　face　paled　as　she　stared　at　Kristin；　and　she　seemed　to　stumble；　almost　going　down　on　one　knee。　But　Kristin；　who　had　already　dismounted；　caught　her　by　the　arms　and　held　her　up。
　And　shook　her；　fiercely。　〃Tell　me；　old　one；　tell　me；　who　is　the　mourning　for？〃
　The　eyes　of　the　innkeeper's　wife　were　pale　and　hopeless。　〃My　lady；　it's　for　the　Princess。。。　Princess　Rimac。。。　has　been　killed。〃
　Again　Kristin　let　out　a　scream；　this　one　short　and　wordless。　Mark　had　heard　another　woman　scream　just　that　way　as　she　fell　in　battle。　Kristin　swayed　but　she　did　not　fall。
　He　jumped　off　his　own　mount　and　went　to　her　and　held　her。　〃What　is　it？〃
　She　clung　to　him　as　if　an　ocean　wave　were　tugging　at　her；　sweeping　her　away：　For　just　a　moment　her　eyes；　flashing　with　mystery　and　fright；　looked　directly　into　his。　〃My　sister。。。〃
　She　tried　to　add　more　words　to　those　two。　But　Mark　heard　hardly　any　of　them。　He　retreated；　one　backward　step　after　another　in　the　direction　of　the　inn；　until　directly　behind　him　there　was　an　old　bench；　that　stood　close　by　the　white…ribboned　doorway。　He　sat　down　on　the　bench；　in　the　partial　shade　of　an　old　tree；　leaning　his　back　against　the　inn's　whitewashed　wall。　Already　half　a　dozen　more　townspeople　had　appeared　from　somewhere；　to　make　a　little　knot　around　Kristin　and　the　old　woman　in　the　courtyard；　and　even　as　Mark　watched　another　half　dozen　came　running。　They　were　kneeling　to　Kristin；　seizing　her　hands　and　kissing　them；　calling　her　Princess。　Someone　leaped　on　the　back　of　a　fresh　riding　beast　in　the　courtyard　and　went　pounding　away　down　the　street；　hooves　echoing　for　what　seemed　like　a　long　time　on　distant　cobblestones。
　Mark　remained　sitting　where　he　was；　on　the　shaded　bench　near　the　worn　doorway；　while　people　rushed　in　and　out　ignoring　him。　Now　and　again　through　the　press　of　bodies　his　eyes　met　Kristin's　for　a　moment。　The　Sword　of　Love　in　its　sheath　weighed　heavily　at　his　side。
　Among　the　other　things　that　people　were　shouting　at　her　were　explanations：　how　Princess　Rimac　had　ridden　out　carelessly　as　was　her　habit；　how　there　had　been　a　sudden；　unexpected　attack　by　one　of　the　Dark　King's　raiding　parties；　how　now　there　was　going　to　be　war　。。。
　The　crowd　grew　rapidly；　and　Mark's　glimpses　of　Kristin　became　less　frequent。　At　one　point　dozens　of　eyes　suddenly　turned　his　way；　and　there　was　a　sudden；　paratively　minor　fuss　that　centered　about　him　…　she　must　have　said　something　that　identified　him　as　her　rescuer。　People　thronged　about　him。　Men　with　an　attitude　between　timidity　and　bravado　beat　him　on　the　back　in　congratulation；　and　tried　to　press　filled　beer　mugs　into　his　hand。　Women　asked　him　if　he　were　hungry；　and　would　not　hear　anything　he　answered　them；　and　brought　him　cake。　Girls　threw　their　tender　arms　about　his　neck　and　kissed　him；　more　girls　and　young　women　kissing　him　now　in　a　few　moments　than　had　even　looked　at　him　for　a　long　time。　One　girl；　pressed　against　him　by　the　crowd；　took　his　hand　and　crushed　it　against　her　breast。　By　now　he　had　lost　sight　of　Kristin　entirely；　and　if　it　were　not　for　the　continuing　crowd　he　would　have　thought　that　she　had　left　the　courtyard。
　There　was　the　sound　of　many　riding　beasts　out　in　the　street。　Now　the　crowd；　filling　the　gateway；　blocking　Mark's　view　of　the　street；　had　a　growing　new　ponent。　Soldiers；　uniformed　in　green　and　blue。　Mark　supposed　that　the　heliograph　had　been　busy。
　Someone　near　him　said：　〃General。〃　Mark　recognized　Rostov　at　once；　having　heard　him　described　so　often；　though　he　had　never　seen　the　man　before。
　Round　one　thick　arm　in　its　blue…green　sleeve；　Rostov　like　the　other　soldiers　was　wearing　a　band　of　mourning　white。　There　was　one　decoration　on　his　barrel　chest　…　Mark　had　no　idea　of　what　it　represented。　The　General　was　as　tall　as　Mark；　and　gave　Mark　the　impression　of　being　stronger；　though　he　was　twice　Mark's　age。　Rostov's　curly　black　hair　was　heavily　seasoned　with　gray；　and　his　black　face　marked　on　the　right　cheek　by　an　old　sword…slash。　A　gray　beard　that　looked　like　steel　fiber　raggedly　trimmed　sprouted　from　cheeks　and　chin。　His　facial　expression；　thought　Mark；　would　have　been　quite　hard　enough　even　without　a　steel　beard。
　Kristin　was　now　ing　through　the　crowd；　and　Mark　from　only　two　yards　away　saw　how　the　General　greeted　her。　He　did　not　kneel　…　that　appeared　to　be　quite　optional　for　anyone　…　but　his　eyes　lit　up　with　relief　and　joy；　and　he　bowed　and　kissed　her　hand　fervently。
　She　clung　to　his　hand　with　both　of　hers。　〃Rostov；　they　tell　me　that　Parliament　has　been　divided　over　the　succession？　That　they　have　nearly　e　to　blows？〃
　〃They　have　e　very　nearly　to　civil　war；　Highness。〃　The　General's　voice　was　suitably　gravelly　and　deep。　〃But；　thank　the　gods；　all　that　is　over　now。　All　factions　can　agree　on　you。　It　was　only　the　thought　that　you　were　missing；　too。。。　thank　all　the　gods　you're　here。〃
　〃I　am　here。　And　well。〃　And　at　last　her　eyes　turned　in　Mark's　direction。
　Now　Mark　and　Rostov　were　being　introduced。　The　General　glowered　at　him；　Mark　thought；　that　was　the　way　of　generals　everywhere；　he　had　observed；　when　looking　at　someone　of　insignificance　who　had　got　in　the　way。　Still　Rostov　was　quick　to　express　his　own　and　his　army's　formal　thanks。
　A　hundred　people　were　speaking　now；　but　one　soft　voice　at　Mark's　elbow　caught　his　full　attention。　It　was　a　woman's；　and　it　said：　〃They　told　me　that　your　name　was　Mark。　And　so　I　hurried　here　to　see。〃
　Mark　recognized　his　mother's　voice；　before　he　turned　to　see　her　face。
　Chapter　8
　The　scar　on　Denis's　arm；　the　last　trace　of　the　wound　that　had　been　healed　by　the　Sword　of　Mercy；　looked　faint　and　old　already。　He　thought　that　the　second　touch　of　Woundhealer　in　the　hand　of　Aphrodite　had　reached　his　heart；　for　there　were　times　when　he　had　the　feeling　of　scar　tissue　forming　there　as　well。　The　vision　of　the　goddess　as　she　had　appeared　to　him　at　night　on　the　river…island　was　with　him　still。　He　still　felt　pity　for　her　whenever　he　thought　of　what　had　happened；　and　then；　each　time；　fear　at　what　might　happen　to　a　man　who　dared　feel　pity　for　divinity。
　His　emotions　whipsawn　by　his　encounter　with　Aphrodite；　Denis　sometimes　felt　as　if　years　had　passed　in　the　few　days　since　his　departure　from　Tashigang。　In　the　days　that　followed；　he　went　on　paddling　his　canoe　into　the　north　and　east。　He　toyed　no　more　with　the　idea　of　absconding　with　the　remaining　Sword；　he　was　still　in　awe　and　shock　from　that　demonstration　of　its　powers；　and　he　wanted　nothing　but　to　be　honorably　and　safely　rid　of　it。
　With　that　objective　in　mind；　he　tried　his　best　to　keep　his　attention　concentrated　upon　practical　affairs。　It　was　necessary　now　to　watch　for　a　second　set　of　landmarks；　these　to　tell　him　where　to　leave　thi