rj.eyeoftheworld-第1部分

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An　Empty　Road

　　　　　　　The　Wheel　of　Time　turns；　and　Ages　e　and　pass；　leaving　memories　that　bee　legend。　Legend　fades　to　myth；　and　even　myth　is　long　forgotten　when　the　Age　that　gave　it　birth　es　again。　In　one　Age；　called　the　Third　Age　by　some；　an　Age　yet　to　e；　an　Age　long　past；　a　wind　rose　in　the　Mountains　of　Mist。　The　wind　was　not　the　beginning。　There　are　neither　beginnings　nor　endings　to　the　turning　of　the　Wheel　of　Time。　But　it　was　a　beginning。
　　　　　　　Born　below　the　ever　cloud…capped　peaks　that　gave　the　mountains　their　name；　the　wind　blew　east；　out　across　the　Sand　Hills；　once　the　shore　of　a　great　ocean；　before　the　Breaking　of　the　World。　Down　it　flailed　into　the　Two　Rivers；　into　the　tangled　forest　called　the　Westwood；　and　beat　at　two　men　walking　with　a　cart　and　horse　down　the　rock…strewn　track　called　the　Quarry　Road。　For　all　that　spring　should　have　e　a　good　month　since；　the　wind　carried　an　icy　chill　as　if　it　would　rather　bear　snow。
　　　　　　　Gusts　plastered　Rand　al'Thor's　cloak　to　his　back；　whipped　the　earth…colored　wool　around　his　legs；　then　streamed　it　out　behind　him。　He　wished　his　coat　were　heavier；　or　that　he　had　worn　an　extra　shirt。　Half　the　time　when　he　tried　to　tug　the　cloak　back　around　him　it　caught　on　the　quiver　swinging　at　his　hip。　Trying　to　hold　the　cloak　one…handed　did　not　do　much　good　anyway；　he　had　his　bow　in　the　other；　an　arrow　nocked　and　ready　to　draw。
　　　　　　　As　a　particularly　strong　blast　tugged　the　cloak　out　of　his　hand；　he　glanced　at　his　father　over　the　back　of　the　shaggy　brown　mare。　He　felt　a　little　foolish　about　wanting　to　reassure　himself　that　Tam　was　still　there；　but　it　was　that　kind　of　day。　The　wind　howled　when　it　rose；　but　aside　from　that；　quiet　lay　heavy　on　the　land。　The　soft　creak　of　the　axle　sounded　loud　by　parison。　No　birds　sang　in　the　forest；　no　squirrels　chittered　from　a　branch。　Not　that　he　expected　them；　really；　not　this　spring。
　　　　　　　Only　trees　that　kept　leaf　or　needle　through　the　winter　had　any　green　about　them。　Snarls　of　last　year's　bramble　spread　brown　webs　over　stone　outcrops　under　the　trees。　Nettles　numbered　most　among　the　few　weeds；　the　rest　were　the　sorts　with　sharp　burrs　or　thorns；　or　stinkweed；　which　left　a　rank　smell　on　the　unwary　boot　that　crushed　it。　Scattered　white　patches　of　snow　still　dotted　the　ground　where　tight　clumps　of　trees　kept　deep　shade。　Where　sunlight　did　reach；　it　held　neither　strength　nor　warmth。　The　pale　sun　sat　above　the　trees　to　the　east；　but　its　light　was　crisply　dark；　as　if　mixed　with　shadow。　It　was　an　awkward　morning；　made　for　unpleasant　thoughts。
　　　　　　　Without　thinking　he　touched　the　nock　of　the　arrow；　it　was　ready　to　draw　to　his　cheek　in　one　smooth　movement；　the　way　Tam　had　taught　him。　Winter　had　been　bad　enough　on　the　farms；　worse　than　even　the　oldest　folk　remembered；　but　it　must　have　been　harsher　still　in　the　mountains；　if　the　number　of　wolves　driven　down　into　the　Two　Rivers　was　any　guide。　Wolves　raided　the　sheep　pens　and　chewed　their　way　into　barns　to　get　the　cattle　and　horses。　Bears　had　been　after　the　sheep；　too；　where　a　bear　had　not　been　seen　in　years。　It　was　no　longer　safe　to　be　out　after　dark。　Men　were　the　prey　as　often　as　sheep；　and　the　sun　did　not　always　have　to　be　down。
　　　　　　　Tam　was　taking　steady　strides　on　the　other　side　of　Bela；　using　his　spear　as　a　walking　staff；　ignoring　the　wind　that　made　his　brown　cloak　flap　like　a　banner。　Now　and　again　he　touched　the　mare's　flank　lightly；　to　remind　her　to　keep　moving。　With　his　thick　chest　and　broad　face；　he　was　a　pillar　of　reality　in　that　morning；　like　a　stone　in　the　middle　of　a　drifting　dream。　His　sun…roughened　cheeks　might　be　lined　and　his　hair　have　only　a　sprinkling　of　black　among　the　gray；　but　there　was　a　solidness　to　him；　as　though　a　flood　could　wash　around　him　without　uprooting　his　feet。　He　stumped　down　the　road　now　impassively。　Wolves　and　bears　were　all　very　well；　his　manner　said；　things　that　any　man　who　kept　sheep　must　be　aware　of；　but　they　had　best　not　try　to　stop　Tam　al'Thor　getting　to　Emond's　Field。
　　　　　　　With　a　guilty　start　Rand　returned　to　watching　his　side　of　the　road；　Tam's　matter…of…factness　reminding　him　of　his　task。　He　was　a　head　taller　than　his　father；　taller　than　anyone　else　in　the　district；　and　had　little　of　Tam　in　him　physically；　except　perhaps　for　a　breadth　of　shoulder。　Gray　eyes　and　the　reddish　tinge　to　his　hair　came　from　his　mother；　so　Tam　said。　She　had　been　an　outlander；　and　Rand　remembered　little　of　her　aside　from　a　smiling　face；　though　he　did　put　flowers　on　her　grave　every　year；　at　Bel　Tine；　in　the　spring；　and　at　Sunday；　in　the　summer。
　　　　　　　Two　small　casks　of　Tam's　apple　brandy　rested　in　the　lurching　cart；　and　eight　larger　barrels　of　apple　cider；　only　slightly　hard　after　a　winter's　curing。　Tam　delivered　the　same　every　year　to　the　Winespring　Inn　for　use　during　Bel　Tine；　and　he　had　declared　that　it　would　take　more　than　wolves　or　a　cold　wind　to　stop　him　this　spring。　Even　so　they　had　not　been　to　the　village　for　weeks。　Not　even　Tam　traveled　much　these　days。　But　Tam　had　given　his　word　about　the　brandy　and　cider；　even　if　he　had　waited　to　make　delivery　until　the　day　before　Festival。　Keeping　his　word　was　important　to　Tam。　Rand　was　just　glad　to　get　away　from　the　farm；　almost　as　glad　as　about　the　ing　of　Bel　Tine。
　　　　　　　As　Rand　watched　his　side　of　the　road；　the　feeling　grew　in　him　that　he　was　being　watched。　For　a　while　he　tried　to　shrug　it　off。　Nothing　moved　or　made　a　sound　among　the　trees；　except　the　wind。　But　the　feeling　not　only　persisted；　it　grew　stronger。　The　hairs　on　his　arms　stirred；　his　skin　prickled　as　if　it　itched　on　the　inside。
　　　　　　　He　shifted　his　bow　irritably　to　rub　at　his　arms；　and　told　himself　to　stop　letting　fancies　take　him。　There　was　nothing　in　the　woods　on　his　side　of　the　road；　and　Tam　would　have　spoken　if　there　had　been　anything　on　the　other。　He　glanced　over　his　shoulder　。。。　and　blinked。　Not　more　than　twenty　spans　back　down　the　road　a　cloaked　figure　on　horseback　followed　them；　horse　and　rider　alike　black；　dull　and　ungleaming。
　　　　　　　It　was　more　habit　than　anything　else　that　kept　him　walking　backward　alongside　the　cart　even　while　he　looked。
　　　　　　　The　rider's　cloak　covered　him　to　his　boot　tops；　the　cowl　tugged　well　forward　so　no　part　of　him　showed。　Vaguely　Rand　thought　there　was　something　odd　about　the　horseman；　but　it　was　the　shadowed　opening　of　the　hood　that　fascinated　him。　He　could　see　only　the　vaguest　outlines　of　a　face；　but　he　had　the　feeling　he　was　looking　right　into　the　rider's　eyes。　And　he　could　not　look　away。　Queasiness　settled　in　his　stomach。　There　was　only　shadow　to　see　in　the　hood；　but　he　felt　hatred　as　sharply　as　if　he　could　see　a　snarling　face；　hatred　for　everything　that　lived。　Hatred　for　him　most　of　all；　for　him　above　all　things。
　　　　　　　Abruptly　a　stone　caught　his　heel　and　he　stumbled；　breaking　his　eyes　away　from　the　dark　horseman。　His　bow　dropped　to　the　road；　and　only　an　outthrust　hand　grabbing　Bela's　harness　saved　him　from　falling　flat　on　his　back。　With　a　startled　snort　the　mare　stopped；　twisting　her　head　to　see　what　had　caught　her。
　　　　　　　Tam　frowned　over　Bela's　back　at　him。　〃Are　you　all　right；　lad？〃
　　　　　　　〃A　rider；〃　Rand　said　breathlessly；　pulling　himself　upright。　〃A　stranger；　following　us。　〃
　　　　　　　〃Where？〃　The　older　man　lifted　his　broad…bladed　spear　and　peered　back　warily。
　　　　　　　〃There；　down　the　。。。〃　Rand's　words　trailed　off　as　he　turned　to　point。　The　road　behind　was　empty。　Disbelieving；　he　stared　into　the　forest　on　both　sides　of　the　road。　Bare…branched　trees　offered　no　hiding　place；　but　there　was　not　a　glimmer　of　horse　or　horseman。　He　met　his　father's　questioning　gaze。　〃He　was　there。　A　man　in　a　black　cloak；　on　a　black　horse。〃
　　　　　　　〃I　wouldn't　doubt　your　word；　lad；　but　where　has　he　gone？〃
　　　　　　　〃I　don't　know。　But　he　was　there。〃　He　snatched　up　the　fallen　bow　and　arrow；　hastily　checked　the　fletching　before　renocking；　and　half　drew　before　letting　the　bowstring　relax。　There　was　nothing　to　aim　at。　〃He　was。〃
　　　　　　　Tam　shook　his　grizzled　head。　〃If　you　say　so；　lad。　e　on；　then。　A　horse　leaves　hoof　prints；　even　on　this　ground。〃　He　started　toward　the　rear　of　the　cart；　his　cloak　whipping　in　the　wind。　〃If　we　find　them；　we'll　know　for　a　fact　he　was　there。　If　not　。。。　well；　these　are　days　to　make　a　man　think　he's　seeing　things。〃
　　　　　　　Abruptly　Rand　realized　what　had　been　odd　about　the　horseman；　aside　from　his　being　there　at　all。　The　wind　that　beat　at　Tam　and　him　had　not　so　much　as　shifted　a　fold　of　that　black　cloak。　His　mouth　was　suddenly　dry。　He　must　have　imagined　it。　His　father　was　right；　this　was　a　morning　to　prickle　a　man's　imagination。　But　he　did　not　believe　it。　Only；　how　did　he　tell　his　father　that　the　man　who　had　apparently　vanished　into　thin　air　wore　a　cloak　the　wind　did　not　touch？
　　　　　　　With　a　worried　frown　he　peered　into　the　woods　around　them；　it　looked　different　than　it　ever　had　before。　Almost　since　he　was　old　enough　to　walk；　he　had　run　loose　in　the　forest。　The　ponds　and　streams　of　the　Waterwood；　beyond　the　last　farms　east　of　Emond's　Field；　were　where　he　had　learned　to　swim。　He　had　explored　into　the　Sand　Hills　…　which　many　in　the　Two　Rivers　said　was　bad　luck　…　and　once　he　had　even　gone　to　the　very　foot　of　the　Mountains　of　Mist；　him　and　his　closest　friends；　Mat　Cauthon　and　Perrin　Aybara。　That　was　a　lot　further　afield　than　most　people　in