fs.thethirdbookofswords-第8部分

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　Moments　later；　having　said　their　last　farewells；　the　two　white…robed　men　were　gone。
　Denis　closed　and　barred　the　door　behind　them；　and　turned　round。　The　master　of　the　house　was　standing　in　the　middle　of　the　workshop；　with　one　hand　on　the　wooden　Sword…case　that　stood　leaning　there　against　the　chimney。　He　was　looking　it　over　carefully；　as　if　it　were　something　that　he　might　want　to　buy。
　The　lady　was　back　in　Denis's　room　already；　looking　down　at　the　hurt　man　on　the　bed。　Denis　when　he　came　in　saw　that　the　man　was　now　sleeping　peacefully　and　his　color　was　a　little　better　already。
　Out　in　the　main　room　of　the　shop　again；　Denis　approached　his　master　…　whose　real　name；　Denis　was　already　certain；　was　unlikely　to　be　Courtenay。　〃What　are　we　going　to　do　with　the　Sword　now；　sir？　Of　course　it　may　be　none　of　my　business。〃　It　obviously　had　bee　his　business　now；　his　real　question　was　how　they　were　going　to　deal　with　that　fact。
　His　master　gave　him　a　look　that　said　this　point　was　appreciated。　But　all　he　said　was：　〃Even　before　we　worry　about　the　Sword；　there's　another　little　job　that　needs　taking　care　of。　How's　your　arm？〃
　Denis　fixed　it。　There　was　a　faint　residual　soreness。　〃Good　enough。〃
　〃Good。〃　And　the　big　man　walked　around　behind　the　big　toppled　workbench；　and　lifted　the　tarpaulin　from　that　which　had　been　concealed　from　Ardneh's　priests。
　It　was　going　to　be　very　convenient；　Denis　thought；　that　the　house　was　so　near　the　river；　and　that　the　night　was　dark　and　rainy。
　Chapter　3
　The　chase　under　the　blistering　sun　had　been　a　long　one；　but　the　young　man　who　was　its　quarry　foresaw　that　it　was　not　going　to　go　on　much　longer。
　Since　the　ambush　some　twenty　kilometers　back　had　killed　his　three　panions　and　all　their　riding　beasts；　he　had　been　scrambling　on　foot　across　the　rough；　barren　country；　pausing　only　at　intervals　to　set　an　ambush　of　his　own；　or　when　necessary　to　gasp　for　breath。
　The　young　man　wore　a　light　pack　on　his　back；　along　with　his　longbow　and　quiver。　At　his　belt　he　carried　a　small　water　bottle　…　it　was　nearly　empty　now；　one　of　the　reasons　why　he　thought　that　the　chase　must　soon　end　in　one　way　or　another。　His　age　would　have　been　hard　to　judge　because　of　his　weathered　look；　but　it　was　actually　much　closer　to　twenty　than　to　thirty。　His　clothes　were　those　of　a　hunter；　or　perhaps　a　guerrilla　soldier；　and　he　wore　his　present　trouble　as　well　and　fittingly　as　he　wore　his　clothes。　He　was　a　tall　and　broad…shouldered　young　man；　with　blue…gray　eyes；　and　a　light；　short　beard　that　until　a　few　days　ago　had　been　neatly　trimmed。　The　longbow　slung　across　his　back　looked　eminently　functional；　but　at　the　moment　there　were　only　three　arrows　left　in　the　quiver　that　rode　beside　it。
　The　young　man　had　fallen　into　a　kind　of　pattern　in　his　movement。　This　took　the　form　of　a　trot；　a　pause　to　look　back　over　one　shoulder；　another　scramble；　a　quick　walk；　and　then　a　look　back　over　the　other　shoulder　without　pausing。
　According　to　the　best　calculation　he　could　make；　which　he　knew　might　very　easily　be　wrong；　he　still　had　one　more　active　enemy　behind　him　than　he　had　arrows。　Of　course　the　only　way　to　make　absolutely　sure　of　the　enemy's　numbers　would　be　to　let　them　catch　him。　They　might　very　well　do　that　anyway。　They　were　still　mounted；　and　would　easily　have　overtaken　him　long　ago；　except　that　his　own　ambushes　set　over　the　past　twenty　kilometers　had　instilled　some　degree　of　caution　in　the　survivors。　These　high　plains　made　a　good　place　for　ambush；　deceptively　open…looking　but　cut　by　ravines　and　studded　with　windcarved　hills　and　giant　boulders　that　looked　as　if　some　god　had　scattered　them　playfully　about。
　By　this　time；　having　had　twenty　kilometers　in　which　to　think　it　over；　the　young　man　had　no　real　doubt　as　to　who　his　pursuers　were。　They　had　to　be　agents　of　the　Blue　Temple。　Any　merely　military　skirmish；　he　thought；　would　have　been　broken　off　long　before　this。　Any　ordinary　patrol　from　the　Dark　King's　army　would　have　been　content　to　return　to　camp　and　report　a　victory；　or　else　proceed　with　whatever　other　business　they　were　supposed　to　be　about。　They　would　not　have　continued　to　risk　their　skins　in　the　pursuit　of　one　survivor；　not　one　as　demonstrably　dangerous　as　himself；　and　not　through　this　dangerous　terrain。
　No；　they　knew　who　they　were　after。　They　knew　what　he　had　done；　four　years　ago。　And　undoubtedly　they　were　under　contract　to　the　Blue　Temple　to　bring　back　his　head。
　The　young　man　was　finding　time　in　his　spare　moments；　such　as　they　were；　to　wonder　if　they　were　also　closing　in　on　Ben；　his　friend　and　his　panion　of　four　years　ago。　Or　if　perhaps　they　had　already　found　him。　But　he　was　not　in　a　position　right　now　to　do　anything　for　Ben。
　The　youth's　flight　had　brought　him　to　the　edge　of　yet　another　ravine；　this　one　cutting　directly　across　his　path。　To　the　left　of　where　the　young　man　halted　on　the　brink；　the　groove　in　the　earth　deepened　rapidly；　turning　into　a　real　canyon　that　wound　its　way　off　to　the　east；　there　presumably　to　join　at　some　point　a　larger　canyon　that　he　had　already　caught　sight　of　from　time　to　time。　In　the　other　direction；　to　the　young　man's　right；　the　ravine　grew　progressively　shallower；　if　he　intended　to　cross　it；　he　should　head　that　way。
　From　where　he　was　standing　now；　the　country　on　the　other　side　of　the　ravine　looked　if　anything　flatter　than　the　plain　he　had　been　crossing；　which　of　course　ought　to　give　a　greater　advantage　to　the　mounted　men。　If　he　did　not　cross；　he　would　go　down　into　the　ravine　and　follow　it　along。　He　could　see　that　as　it　deepened　some　shelter　appeared　along　its　bottom；　provided　by　rough　free…standing　rock　formations　and　by　the　winding　walls　themselves。　If　he　went　that　way　he　would　be　going　downhill；　and　for　that　reason　might　be　able　to　go　faster。
　It　was　the　need　for　water　that　made　his　choice　a　certainty。　The　big　canyon　ought　to　be　no　more　than　a　few　kilometers　away　at　most；　and　very　probably　it　had　water　at　its　bottom。
　He　was　down　in　the　bottom　of　the　ravine；　making　good　time　along　its　deepening　trench；　before　one　of　his　over…the…shoulder　looks　afforded　him　another　glimpse　of　the　men　who　were　ing　after　him。　Three　heads　were　gazing　down　over　the　rocky　rim；　some　distance　to　his　rear。　It　looked　as　if　they　had　been　expecting　him　to　cross　the　ravine；　not　follow　it；　and　had　therefore　angled　their　own　course　a　little　toward　its　shallower　end。　He　had　therefore　gained　a　little　distance　on　them。　The　question　now　was；　how　would　they　pursue　from　here？　They　might　all　follow　him　down　into　the　ravine。　Or　one　of　them　might　follow　him　along　the　rim；　ready　to　roll　down　rocks　on　him　when　a　good　chance　came。　Or；　one　man　might　cross　pletely；　so　they　could　follow　him　along　both　walls　and　down　the　middle　too。
　He　had　doubts　that　they　were　going　to　divide　their　small　remaining　force。
　Time　would　tell。　He　was　now　mitted；　anyway；　to　following　the　ravine。　Much　depended　on　what　sort　of　concealment　he　could　find。
　So　far；　things　were　looking　as　good　as　could　be　expected。　What　had　been　a　fairly　simple　trench　at　the　point　where　he　entered　it　was　rapidly　widening　and　deepening　into　a　plex；　steep…sided　canyon。　Presently；　ing　to　a　place　where　the　canyon　bent　sharply；　the　young　man　decided　to　set　up　another　ambush；　behind　a　convenient　outcropping　of　rock；　Lying　motionless　on　stove…like　rock；　watching　small　lizards　watch　him　through　the　vibrating　air；　he　had　to　fight　down　the　all…too…rational　fear　that　this　time　his　enemies　had　outguessed　him；　and　a　couple　of　them　were　really　following　him　along　on　the　high　rims。　At　any　moment　now；　the　head　of　one　of　them　ought　to　appear　in　his　field　of　vision；　just　about　there。　From　which　vantage　point　it　would　of　course　be　no　trick　at　all　to　roll　down　a　deadly　barrage　of　rocks。　If　they　were　lucky　his　head　would　still　be　recognizable　when　they　came　down　to　collect　it。　Enough　of　that。
　It　was　a　definite　relief　when　the　three　men　came　into　sight　again；　all　trailing　him　directly　along　the　bottom　of　the　canyon。　They　were　walking　their　mounts　now；　having　to　watch　their　footing　carefully　on　the　uneven　rock。　As　their　quarry　had　hoped；　at　this　spot　they　had　no　more　than　half　their　visual　attention　to　spare　in　looking　out　for　ambush。
　The　young　man　waiting　for　them　already　had　an　arrow　nocked。　And　now　he　started　to　draw　it；　slowly　taking　up　the　bowstring's　tension。　He　realized　that　at　the　last　instant；　he'd　have　to　raise　himself　up　into　full　view　to　get　the　shot　off　properly。
　The　moment　came　and　he　lifted　his　upper　body。　The　bow　twanged　in　his　hands；　as　if　the　arrow　had　made　its　own　decision。　The　shot　was　good；　but　the　man　who　was　its　target；　as　if　warned　by　some　subtle　magic；　begun　to　turn　his　body　away　just　as　the　shot　was　made。　The　arrow　missed。　The　enemy；　alarmed；　were　all　ducking　for　cover。
　The　marksman　did　not　delay　to　see　what　they　might　be　going　to　do　next。　Already　he　was　on　his　feet　and　running；　scrambling；　on　down　the　canyon。　Only　two　arrows　left　in　his　quiver　now；　and　still　he　was　not　absolutely　sure　that　there　were　no　more　than　three　men　in　pursuit。
　He　hurdled　a　small　boulder；　and　kept　on　running。　At　least　he'd　slowed　his　pursuers　down　again；　made　them　move　more　cautiously。　And　that　ought　to　let　him　gain　a　little　distance。
　And　now；　suddenly；　unexpectedly；　he　had　good　luck　in　sight。