rj.thegreathunt-第8部分

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here。
　　　　　　　Setting　the　bundle　atop　the　blankets；　he　untied　one　end　and　partially　unfolded　it。　A　gleeman's　cloak；　turned　inside　out　to　hide　the　hundreds　of　patches　that　covered　it；　patches　in　every　size　and　color　imaginable。　The　cloak　itself　was　sound　enough；　the　patches　were　a　gleeman's　badge。　Had　been　a　gleeman's　badge。
　　　　　　　Inside　nestled　two　hard　leather　cases。　The　larger　held　a　harp；　which　he　never　touched。　The　harp　was　never　meant　for　a　farmer's　clumsy　fingers；　boy。　The　other；　long　and　slim；　contained　the　gold…and…silver　chased　flute　he　had　used　to　earn　his　supper　and　bed　more　than　once　since　leaving　home。　Thom　Merrilin　had　taught　him　to　play　that　flute；　before　the　gleeman　died。　Rand　could　never　touch　it　without　remembering　Thom；　with　his　sharp　blue　eyes　and　his　long　white　mustaches；　shoving　the　bundled　cloak　into　his　hands　and　shouting　for　him　to　run。　And　then　Thom　had　run　himself；　knives　appearing　magically　in　his　hands　as　if　he　were　performing；　to　face　the　Myrddraal　that　was　ing　to　kill　them。
　　　　　　　With　a　shiver；　he　redid　the　bundle。　〃That's　all　over　with。〃　Thinking　of　the　wind　on　the　tower　top；　he　added；　〃Strange　things　happen　this　close　to　the　Blight。〃　He　was　not　sure　he　believed　it；　not　the　way　Lan　had　apparently　meant　it。　In　any　case；　even　without　the　Amyrlin　Seat；　it　was　past　time　for　him　to　be　gone　from　Fal　Dara。
　　　　　　　Shrugging　into　the　coat　he　had　kept　out　…　it　was　a　deep；　dark　green；　and　made　him　think　of　the　forests　at　home；　Tam's　Westwood　farm　where　he　had　grown　up；　and　the　Waterwood　where　he　had　learned　to　swim　…　he　buckled　the　heron…mark　sword　to　his　waist　and　hung　his　quiver；　bristling　with　arrows；　on　the　other　side。　His　unstrung　bow　stood　propped　in　the　corner　with　Mat's　and　Perrin's；　the　stave　two　hands　taller　than　he　was。　He　had　made　it　himself　since　ing　to　Fal　Dara；　and　besides　him；　only　Lan　and　Perrin　could　draw　it。　Stuffing　his　blanketroll　and　his　new　cloak　through　the　loops　on　his　bundles；　he　slung　the　pair　from　his　left　shoulder；　tossed　his　saddlebags　atop　the　cords；　and　grabbed　the　bow。　Leave　the　sword…arm　free；　he　thought。　Make　them　think　I'm　dangerous。　Maybe　somebody　will。
　　　　　　　Cracking　the　door　revealed　the　hall　all　but　empty；　one　liveried　servant　dashed　by；　but　he　never　so　much　as　glanced　at　Rand。　As　soon　as　the　man's　rapid　footfalls　faded；　Rand　slipped　out　into　the　corridor。
　　　　　　　He　tried　to　walk　naturally；　casually；　but　with　saddlebags　on　his　shoulder　and　bundles　on　his　back；　he　knew　he　looked　like　what　he　was；　a　man　setting　out　on　a　journey　and　not　meaning　to　e　back。　The　trumpets　called　again；　sounding　fainter　here　inside　the　keep。
　　　　　　　He　had　a　horse；　a　tall　bay　stallion；　in　the　north　stable；　called　the　Lord's　Stable；　close　by　the　salley　gate　that　Lord　Agelmar　used　when　he　went　riding。　Neither　the　Lord　of　Fal　Dara　nor　any　of　his　family　would　be　riding　today；　though；　and　the　stable　might　be　empty　except　for　the　stableboys。　There　were　two　ways　to　reach　the　Lord's　Stable　from　Rand's　room。　One　would　take　him　all　the　way　around　the　keep；　behind　Lord　Agelmar's　private　garden；　then　down　the　far　side　and　through　the　farrier's　smithy；　likewise　certainly　empty　now；　to　the　stableyard。　Time　enough　that　way　for　orders　to　be　given；　for　a　search　to　start；　before　he　reached　his　horse。　The　other　was　far　shorter；　first　across　the　outer　courtyard；　where　even　now　the　Amyrlin　Seat　was　arriving　with　another　dozen　or　more　Aes　Sedai。
　　　　　　　His　skin　prickled　at　the　thought；　he　had　had　more　than　enough　of　Aes　Sedai　for　any　sane　lifetime。　One　was　too　many。　All　the　stories　said　it；　and　he　knew　it　for　fact。　But　he　was　not　surprised　when　his　feet　took　him　toward　the　outer　courtyard。　He　would　never　see　legendary　Tar　Valon　…　he　could　not　afford　that　risk；　now　or　ever　…　but　he　might　catch　a　glimpse　of　the　Amyrlin　Seat　before　he　left。　That　would　be　as　much　as　seeing　a　queen。　There　can't　he　anything　dangerous　in　just　looking；　from　a　distance。　I'll　keep　moving　and　he　gone　before　she　ever　knows　I　was　there。
　　　　　　　He　opened　a　heavy；　iron…strapped　door　onto　the　outer　courtyard　and　stepped　out　into　silence。　People　forested　the　guardwalk　atop　every　wall；　top…knotted　soldiers；　and　liveried　servants；　and　menials　still　in　their　muck；　all　pressed　together　cheek　by　jowl；　with　children　sitting　on　shoulders　to　look　over　their　elders'　heads　or　squeezing　in　to　peer　around　waists　and　knees。　Every　archers'　balcony　was　packed　like　a　barrel　of　apples；　and　faces　even　showed　in　the　narrow　arrowslits　in　the　walls。　A　thick　mass　of　people　bordered　the　courtyard　like　another　wall。　And　all　of　them　watched　and　waited　in　silence。
　　　　　　　He　pushed　his　way　along　the　wall；　in　front　of　the　smithies　and　fletchers'　stalls　that　lined　the　court　…　Fal　Dara　was　a　fortress；　not　a　palace；　despite　its　size　and　grim　grandeur；　and　everything　about　it　served　that　end　…　apologizing　quietly　to　the　people　he　jostled。　Some　looked　around　with　a　frown；　and　a　few　gave　a　second　stare　to　his　saddlebags　and　bundles；　but　none　broke　the　silence。　Most　did　not　even　bother　to　look　at　who　had　bumped　past　them。
　　　　　　　He　could　easily　see　over　the　heads　of　most　of　them；　enough　to　make　out　clearly　what　was　going　on　in　the　courtyard。　Just　inside　the　main　gate；　a　line　of　men　stood　beside　their　horses；　sixteen　of　them。　No　two　wore　the　same　kind　of　armor　or　carried　the　same　sort　of　sword；　and　none　looked　like　Lan；　but　Rand　did　not　doubt　they　were　Warders。　Round　faces；　square　faces；　long　faces；　narrow　faces；　they　all　had　the　look；　as　if　they　saw　things　other　men　did　not　see；　heard　things　other　men　did　not　hear。　Standing　at　their　ease；　they　looked　as　deadly　as　a　pack　of　wolves。　Only　one　other　thing　about　them　was　alike。　One　and　all　they　wore　the　color…shifting　cloak　he　had　first　seen　on　Lan；　the　cloak　that　often　seemed　to　fade　into　whatever　was　behind　it。　It　did　not　make　for　easy　watching　or　a　still　stomach；　so　many　men　in　those　cloaks。
　　　　　　　A　dozen　paces　in　front　of　the　Warders；　a　row　of　women　stood　by　their　horses'　heads；　the　cowls　of　their　cloaks　thrown　back。　He　could　count　them；　now。　Fourteen。　Fourteen　Aes　Sedai。　They　must　be。　Tall　and　short；　slender　and　plump；　dark　and　fair；　hair　cut　short　or　long；　hanging　loose　down　their　backs　or　braided；　their　clothes　were　as　different　as　the　Warders'　were；　in　as　many　cuts　and　colors　as　there　were　women。　Yet　they；　too；　had　a　sameness；　one　that　was　only　obvious　when　they　stood　together　like　this。　To　a　woman；　they　seemed　ageless。　From　this　distance　he　would　have　called　them　all　young；　but　closer　he　knew　they　would　be　like　Moiraine。　Young…seeming　yet　not；　smooth…skinned　but　with　faces　too　mature　for　youth；　eyes　too　knowing。
　　　　　　　Closer？　Fool！　I'm　too　close　already！　Burn　me；　I　should　have　gone　the　long　way。　He　pressed　on　toward　his　goal；　another　iron…bound　door　at　the　far　end　of　the　court；　but　he　could　not　stop　looking。
　　　　　　　Calmly　the　Aes　Sedai　ignored　the　onlookers　and　kept　their　attention　on　the　curtained　palanquin；　now　in　the　center　of　the　courtyard。　The　horses　bearing　it　held　as　still　as　if　ostlers　stood　at　their　harness；　but　there　was　only　one　tall　woman　beside　the　palanquin；　her　face　an　Aes　Sedai's　face；　and　she　paid　no　mind　to　the　horses。　The　staff　she　held　upright　before　her　with　both　hands　was　as　tall　as　she；　the　gilded　flame　capping　it　standing　above　her　eyes。
　　　　　　　Lord　Agelmar　faced　the　palanquin　from　the　far　end　of　the　court；　bluff　and　square　and　face　unreadable。　His　high…collared　coat　of　dark　blue　bore　the　three　running　red　foxes　of　the　House　Jagad　as　well　as　the　stooping　black　hawk　of　Shienar。　Beside　him　stood　Ronan；　age…withered　but　still　tall；　three　foxes　carved　from　red　avatine　topped　the　tall　staff　the　shambayan　bore。　Ronan　was　Elansu's　equal　in　ordering　the　keep；　shambayan　and　shatayan；　but　Elansu　left　little　for　him　except　ceremonies　and　acting　as　Lord　Agelmar's　secretary。　Both　men's　topknots　were　snow…white。
　　　　　　　All　of　them…the　Warders；　the　Aes　Sedai；　the　Lord　of　Fal　Dara；　and　his　shambayan…stood　as　still　as　stone。　The　watching　crowd　seemed　to　hold　its　breath。　Despite　himself；　Rand　slowed。
　　　　　　　Suddenly　Ronan　rapped　his　staff　loudly　three　times　on　the　broad　paving　stones；　calling　into　the　silence；　〃Who　es　here？　Who　es　here？　Who　es　here？〃
　　　　　　　The　woman　beside　the　palanquin　tapped　her　staff　three　times　in　reply。　〃The　Watcher　of　the　Seals。　The　Flame　of　Tar　Valon。　The　Amyrlin　Seat。〃
　　　　　　　〃Why　should　we　watch？〃　Ronan　demanded。
　　　　　　　〃For　the　hope　of　humankind；〃　the　tall　woman　replied。〃Against　what　do　we　guard？〃
　　　　　　　〃The　shadow　at　noon。〃
　　　　　　　〃How　long　shall　we　guard？〃
　　　　　　　〃From　rising　sun　to　rising　sun；　so　long　as　the　Wheel　of　Time　turns。〃
　　　　　　　Agelmar　bowed；　his　white　topknot　stirring　in　the　breeze。　〃Fal　Dara　offers　bread　and　salt　and　wele。　Well　e　is　the　Amyrlin　Seat　to　Fal　Dara；　for　here　is　the　watch　kept；　here　is　the　Pact　maintained。　Wele。〃
　　　　　　　The　tall　woman　drew　back　the　curtain　of　the　palanquin；　and　the　Amyrlin　Seat　stepped　out。　Dark…haired；　ageless　as　all　Aes　Sedai　were　ageless；　she　ran　her　eyes　over　the　assembled　watchers　as　she　straightened。　Rand　flinched　when　her　gaze　crossed　him；　he　felt　as　if　he　had　been　touched。　But　her　eyes　passed　on　and　came　to　rest　on　Lord　Agelmar。　A　liveried　servant　knelt　at　her　side　with　folded　towels；　steam　still　rising；　on　a　silver　tray。　Form