rj.eyeoftheworld-第108部分

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　too。　I　like　that。　You　know；　there's　a　little　task　you　could　help　with　tomorrow；　and　…〃
　　　　　　　〃They'll　be　wanting　an　early　start；　father；〃　Mistress　Grinwell　cut　in。　〃Arien　is　the　next　village　the　way　they're　going；　and　if　they　intend　to　try　their　luck　at　the　inn　there；　they'll　have　to　walk　all　day　to　get　there　before　dark。〃
　　　　　　　〃Yes；　mistress；〃　Rand　said；　〃we　will。　And　thank　you。〃
　　　　　　　She　gave　him　a　tight…lipped　smile　as　if　she　knew　very　well　that　his　thanks　were　for　more　than　her　advice；　or　even　supper　and　a　warm　bed。
　　　　　　　The　whole　next　day　Mat　twitted　him　about　Else　as　they　made　their　way　down　the　road。　He　kept　trying　to　change　the　subject；　and　what　the　Grinwells　had　suggested　about　performing　at　inns　was　the　easiest　thing　to　mind。　In　the　morning；　with　Else　pouting　as　he　left；　and　Mistress　Grinwell　watching　with　a　sharp…eyed　look　of　good…riddance　and　soonest…mended；　it　was　just　something　to　keep　Mat　from　talking。　By　the　time　they　did　reach　the　next　village；　it　was　something　else　again。
　　　　　　　With　dusk　descending；　they　entered　the　only　inn　in　Arien；　and　Rand　spoke　to　the　innkeeper。　He　played　〃Ferry　O'er　the　River〃　…　which　the　plump　innkeeper　called　〃Darling　Sara〃　…　and　part　of　〃The　Road　to　Dun　Aren；〃　and　Mat　did　a　little　juggling；　and　the　upshot　was　that　they　slept　in　a　bed　that　night　and　ate　roasted　potatoes　and　hot　beef。　It　was　the　smallest　room　in　the　inn；　to　be　sure；　up　under　the　eaves　in　the　back；　and　the　meal　came　in　the　middle　of　a　long　night　of　playing　and　juggling；　but　it　was　still　a　bed　beneath　a　roof。　Even　better；　to　Rand；　every　daylight　hour　had　been　spent　traveling。　And　the　inn's　patrons　did　not　seem　to　care　if　Mat　stared　at　them　suspiciously。　Some　of　them　even　looked　askance　at　one　another。　The　times　made　suspicion　of　strangers　a　monplace；　and　there　were　always　strangers　at　an　inn。
　　　　　　　Rand　slept　better　than　he　had　since　leaving　Whitebridge；　despite　sharing　a　bed　with　Mat　and　his　nocturnal　muttering。　In　the　morning　the　innkeeper　tried　to　talk　them　into　staying　another　day　or　two；　but　when　he　could　not；　he　called　over　a　bleary…eyed　farmer　who　had　drunk　too　much　to　drive　his　cart　home　the　night　before。　An　hour　later　they　were　five　miles　further　east；　sprawling　on　their　backs　on　the　straw　in　the　back　of　Eazil　Forney's　cart。
　　　　　　　That　became　the　way　of　their　traveling。　With　a　little　luck；　and　maybe　a　ride　or　two；　they　could　almost　always　reach　the　next　village　by　dark。　If　there　was　more　than　one　inn　in　a　village；　the　innkeepers　would　bid　for　them　once　they　heard　Rand's　flute　and　saw　Mat　juggle。　Together　they　still　did　not　e　close　to　a　gleeman；　but　they　were　more　than　most　villages　saw　in　a　year。　Two　or　three　inns　in　a　town　meant　a　better　room；　with　two　beds；　and　more　generous　portions　of　a　better　cut　of　meat；　and　sometimes　even　a　few　coppers　in　their　pockets　when　they　left　besides。　In　the　mornings　there　was　almost　always　someone　to　offer　a　ride；　another　farmer　who　had　stayed　too　late　and　drunk　too　much；　or　a　merchant　who　had　liked　their　entertainment　enough　not　to　mind　if　they　hopped　up　on　the　back　of　one　of　his　wagons。　Rand　began　to　think　their　problems　were　over　till　they　reached　Caemlyn。　But　then　they　came　to　Four　Kings。

Chapter　32
Four　Kings　in　Shadow
　
　　　　　　　The　village　was　bigger　than　most；　but　still　a　scruffy　town　to　bear　a　name　like　Four　Kings。　As　usual；　the　Caemlyn　Road　ran　straight　through　the　center　of　the　town；　but　another　heavily　traveled　highway　came　in　from　the　south；　too。　Most　villages　were　markets　and　gathering　places　for　the　farmers　of　the　area；　but　there　were　few　farmers　to　be　seen　here。　Four　Kings　survived　as　a　stopover　for　merchants'　wagon　trains　on　their　way　to　Caemlyn　and　to　the　mining　towns　in　the　Mountains　of　Mist　beyond　Baerlon；　as　well　as　the　villages　between。　The　southern　road　carried　Lugard's　trade　with　the　mines　in　the　west；　Lugarder　merchants　going　to　Caemlyn　had　a　more　direct　route。　The　surrounding　country　held　few　farms；　barely　enough　to　feed　themselves　and　the　town；　and　everything　in　the　village　centered　on　the　merchants　and　their　wagons；　the　men　who　drove　them　and　the　laborers　who　loaded　the　goods。
　　　　　　　Plots　of　bare　earth；　ground　to　dust；　lay　scattered　through　Four　Kings；　filled　with　wagons　parked　wheel　to　wheel　and　abandoned　except　for　a　few　bored　guards。　Stables　and　horse…lots　lined　the　streets；　all　of　which　were　wide　enough　to　allow　wagons　to　pass　and　deeply　rutted　from　too　many　wheels。　There　was　no　village　green；　and　the　children　played　in　the　ruts；　dodging　wagons　and　the　curses　of　wagon　drivers。　Village　women；　their　heads　covered　with　scarves；　kept　their　eyes　down　and　walked　quickly；　sometimes　followed　by　wagoneers'　ments　that　made　Rand　blush；　even　Mat　gave　a　start　at　some　of　them。　No　woman　stood　gossiping　over　the　fence　with　a　neighbor。　Drab　wooden　houses　stood　cheek　by　jowl；　with　only　narrow　alleys　between　and　whitewash　…　where　anyone　had　bothered　to　whitewash　the　weathered　boards　…　faded　as　if　it　had　not　been　freshened　in　years。　Heavy　shutters　on　the　houses　had　not　been　open　in　so　long　that　the　hinges　were　solid　lumps　of　rust。　Noise　hung　over　everything；　clanging　from　blacksmiths；　shouts　from　the　wagon　drivers；　raucous　laughter　from　the　town's　inns。
　　　　　　　Rand　swung　down　from　the　back　of　a　merchant's　canvas…topped　wagon　as　they　came　abreast　of　a　garishly　painted　inn；　all　greens　and　yellows　that　caught　the　eye　from　afar　among　the　leaden　houses。　The　line　of　wagons　kept　moving。　None　of　the　drivers　even　seemed　to　notice　that　he　and　Mat　had　gone；　dusk　was　falling；　and　they　all　had　their　eyes　on　unhitching　the　horses　and　reaching　the　inns。　Rand　stumbled　in　a　rut；　then　leaped　quickly　to　avoid　a　heavy…laden　wagon　clattering　the　other　way。　The　driver　shouted　a　curse　at　him　as　the　wagon　rolled　by。　A　village　woman　stepped　around　him　and　hurried　on　without　ever　meeting　his　eye。
　　　　　　　〃I　don't　know　about　this　place；〃　he　said。　He　thought　he　could　hear　music　mixed　in　the　din；　but　he　could　not　tell　from　where　it　was　ing。　From　the　inn；　maybe；　but　it　was　hard　to　be　sure。　〃I　don't　like　it。　Maybe　we'd　better　go　on　this　time。〃
　　　　　　　Mat　gave　him　a　scornful　look；　then　rolled　his　eyes　at　the　sky。　Dark　clouds　thickened　overhead。　〃And　sleep　under　a　hedge　tonight？　In　that？　I'm　used　to　a　bed　again。〃　He　cocked　his　head　to　listen；　then　grunted。　〃Maybe　one　of　these　places　doesn't　have　musicians。　Anyway；　I'll　bet　they　don't　have　a　juggler。〃　He　slung　his　bow　across　his　shoulders　and　started　for　the　bright　yellow　door；　studying　everything　through　narrowed　eyes。　Rand　followed　doubtfully。
　　　　　　　There　were　musicians　inside；　their　zither　and　drum　almost　drowned　in　coarse　laughter　and　drunken　shouting。　Rand　did　not　bother　to　find　the　landlord。　The　next　two　inns　had　musicians　as　well；　and　the　same　deafening　cacophony。　Roughly　dressed　men　filled　the　tables　and　stumbled　across　the　floor；　waving　mugs　and　trying　to　fondle　serving　maids　who　dodged　with　fixed；　long…suffering　smiles。　The　buildings　shook　with　the　racket；　and　the　smell　was　sour；　a　stench　of　old　wine　and　unwashed　bodies。　Of　the　merchants；　in　their　silk　and　velvet　and　lace；　there　was　no　sign；　private　dining　rooms　abovestairs　protected　their　ears　and　noses。　He　and　Mat　only　put　their　heads　in　the　doors　before　leaving。　He　was　beginning　to　think　they　would　have　no　choice　but　to　move　on。
　　　　　　　The　fourth　inn；　The　Dancing　Cartman；　stood　silent。
　　　　　　　It　was　as　gaudy　as　the　other　inns；　yellow　trimmed　in　bright　red　and　bilious；　eye…wrenching　green；　though　here　the　paint　was　cracked　and　peeling。　Rand　and　Mat　stepped　inside。
　　　　　　　Only　half　a　dozen　men　sat　at　the　tables　that　filled　the　mon　room；　hunched　over　their　mugs；　each　one　glumly　alone　with　his　thoughts。　Business　was　definitely　not　good；　but　it　had　been　better　once。　Exactly　as　many　serving　maids　as　there　were　patrons　busied　themselves　around　the　room。　There　was　plenty　for　them　to　do　…　dirt　crusted　the　floor　and　cobwebs　filled　the　corners　of　the　ceiling　…　but　most　were　not　doing　anything　really　useful；　only　moving　so　they　would　not　be　seen　standing　still。
　　　　　　　A　bony　man　with　long；　stringy　hair　to　his　shoulders　turned　to　scowl　at　them　as　they　came　through　the　door。　The　first　slow　peal　of　thunder　rumbled　across　Four　Kings。　〃What　do　you　want？〃　He　was　rubbing　his　hands　on　a　greasy　apron　that　hung　to　his　ankles。　Rand　wondered　if　more　grime　was　ing　off　on　the　apron　or　on　the　man's　hands。　He　was　the　first　skinny　innkeeper　Rand　had　seen。　〃Well？　Speak　up；　buy　a　drink；　or　get　out！　Do　I　look　like　a　raree　show？〃
　　　　　　　Flushing；　Rand　launched　into　the　spiel　he　had　perfected　at　inns　before　this。　〃I　play　the　flute；　and　my　friend　juggles；　and　you'll　not　see　two　better　in　a　year。　For　a　good　room　and　a　good　meal；　we'll　fill　this　mon　room　of　yours。〃　He　remembered　the　filled　mon　rooms　he　had　already　seen　that　evening；　especially　the　man　who　had　vomited　right　in　front　of　him　at　the　last　one。　He　had　had　to　step　lively　to　keep　his　boots　untouched。　He　faltered；　but　caught　himself　and　went　on。　〃We'll　fill　your　inn　with　men　who　will　repay　the　little　we　cost　twenty　times　over　with　the　food　and　drink　they　buy。　Why　should　…〃
　　　　　　　〃I've　got　a　man　plays　the　dulcimer；〃　the　innkeeper　said　sourly。
　　　　　　　〃You　have　a　drunk；　Saml　Hake；〃　one　of　the　serving　maids　said。　She　was　passing　him　with　a　tray　an