rj.theshadowrising-第47部分

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not　seen　enough　blood　already　tonight〃　he　said　coldly。　〃Of　all　those　I　thought　I　might　find　breaking　the　peace；　the　two　of　you　would　be　the　last　named。〃
　　　　　　　Faile　gaped　at　him。　With　no　warning；　she　pivoted；　driving　her　fist　toward　Rhuarc's　short　ribs。　The　toughest　man　would　feel　it　there。
　　　　　　　He　seemed　to　move　without　looking　at　her；　caught　her　hand；　forced　her　arm　straight　to　her　side；　twisted。　Abruptly　she　was　standing　very　straight　and　hoping　he　did　not　push　her　arm　right　up　out　of　her　shoulder。
　　　　　　　As　if　nothing　had　happened；　he　addressed　Berelain。　〃You　will　go　to　your　room；　and　you　will　not　e　out　until　the　sun　is　above　the　horizon。　I　will　see　that　no　breakfast　is　brought　to　you。　A　little　hunger　will　remind　you　that　there　is　a　time　and　place　for　fighting。〃
　　　　　　　Berelain　drew　herself　up　indignantly。　〃I　am　the　First　of　Mayene。　I　will　not　be　ordered　about　like　…〃
　　　　　　　〃You　will　go　to　your　rooms。　Now；〃　Rhuarc　told　her　flatly。　Faile　wondered　if　she　could　kick　him；　she　must　have　tensed；　because　as　soon　as　she　thought　of　it；　he　increased　the　pressure　on　her　wrist；　and　she　was　up　on　her　tiptoes。　〃If　you　do　not；〃　he　went　on　to　Berelain；　〃we　will　repeat　our　first　talk　together；　you　and　I。　Right　here。〃
　　　　　　　Berelain's　face　went　white　and　red　by　turns。　〃Very　well；〃　she　said　stiffly。　〃If　you　insist；　I　will　perhaps　…〃
　　　　　　　〃I　did　not　propose　a　discussion。　If　I　can　still　see　you　when　I　have　counted　three。。。　One。〃
　　　　　　　With　a　gasp；　Berelain　hiked　her　skirts　and　ran。　She　even　managed　to　sway　doing　that。
　　　　　　　Faile　stared　after　her　in　amazement。　It　was　almost　worth　having　her　arm　nearly　disjointed。　Rhuarc　was　watching　Berelain　go；　too；　a　small　appreciative　smile　on　his　lips。
　　　　　　　〃Do　you　mean　to　hold　me　all　night？〃　she　demanded。　He　released　her　…　and　tucked　her　knives　into　his　belt。　〃Those　are　mine！〃
　　　　　　　〃Forfeit；〃　he　said。　〃Berelain's　punishment　for　fighting　was　to　have　you　see　her　sent　to　bed　like　a　willful　child。　Yours　is　to　lose　these　knives　you　prize。　I　know　you　have　others。　If　you　argue；　I　might　take　those；　too。　I　will　not　have　the　peace　broken。〃
　　　　　　　She　glared　at　him；　but　she　suspected　he　meant　just　what　he　said。　Those　knives　had　been　made　for　her　by　a　man　who　knew　what　he　was　doing；　the　balance　was　just　right。　〃What　'first　talk'　did　you　have　with　her？　Why　did　she　run　like　that？〃
　　　　　　　〃That　is　between　her　and　me。　You　will　not　go　near　her　again；　Faile。　I　do　not　believe　she　started　this；　that　one's　weapons　are　not　knives。　If　either　of　you　makes　trouble　again；　I　will　put　both　of　you　to　carrying　offal。　Some　of　the　Tairens　thought　they　could　keep　on　fighting　their　duels　after　I　had　declared　peace　on　this　place；　but　the　smell　of　the　refuse　carts　soon　taught　them　their　mistake。　Be　sure　you　do　not　have　to　learn　it　the　same　way。〃
　　　　　　　She　waited　until　he　had　gone　before　nursing　her　shoulder。　He　reminded　her　of　her　father。　Not　that　her　father　had　ever　twisted　her　arm；　but　he　had　small　patience　with　those　who　made　trouble；　whatever　their　position；　and　no　one　ever　caught　him　by　surprise。　She　wondered　if　she　could　bait　Berelain　into　something；　just　to　see　the　First　of　Mayene　sweating　among　the　refuse　carts。　But　Rhuarc　had　said　both　of　them。　Her　father　meant　what　he　said；　too。　Berelain。　Something　Berelain　had　said　was　tickling　the　back　of　her　mind。　Ogier's　oath。　That　was　it。　An　Ogier　never　broke　an　oath。　To　say　〃Ogier　oathbreaker〃　was　like　saying　〃brave　coward；〃　or　〃wise　fool。〃
　　　　　　　She　could　not　help　laughing　aloud。　〃You　will　take　him　from　me；　you　silly　peahen？　By　the　time　you　see　him　again；　if　you　ever　do；　he'll　be　mine　once　more。〃　Chuckling　to　herself；　and　occasionally　rubbing　her　shoulder；　she　walked　on　with　a　light　heart。
　
Chapter　15
（Dice）
Into　the　Doorway

　　　　　　　Holding　the　glass…mantled　lamp　high；　Mat　peered　down　the　narrow　corridor；　deep　in　the　belly　of　the　Stone。　Not　unless　my　life　depended　on　it。　That's　what　I　promised。　Well；　burn　me　if　it　doesn't！
　　　　　　　Before　doubt　could　seize　him　again；　he　hurried　on；　past　doors　dry…rotted　and　hanging　aslant；　past　others　only　shreds　of　wood　clinging　to　rusted　hinges。　The　floor　had　been　swept　recently；　but　the　air　still　smelled　of　old　dust　and　mold。　Something　skittered　in　the　darkness；　and　he　had　a　knife　out　before　he　realized　it　was　just　a　rat；　running　from　him；　no　doubt　running　toward　some　escape　hole　it　knew。
　　　　　　　〃Show　me　the　way　out；〃　he　whispered　after　it；　〃and　I'll　e　with　you。〃　Why　am　I　whispering？　There's　nobody　down　here　to　hear　me。　It　seemed　a　place　for　quiet；　though。　He　could　feel　the　whole　weight　of　the　Stone　over　his　head；　pressing　down。
　　　　　　　The　last　door；　she　had　said。　That　one　hung　askew；　too。　He　kicked　it　open；　and　it　fell　apart。　The　room　was　littered　with　dim　shapes；　with　crates　and　barrels　and　things　stacked　high　against　the　walls　and　out　into　the　floor。　Dust；　too。　The　Great　Hold！　It　looks　like　the　basement　of　an　abandoned　farmhouse；　only　worse。　He　was　surprised　that　Egwene　and　Nynaeve　had　not　dusted　and　tidied　while　they　were　down　here。　Women　were　always　dusting　and　straightening；　even　things　that　did　not　need　it。　Footprints　crisscrossed　the　floor；　some　of　them　from　boots；　but　no　doubt　they　had　had　men　to　shift　the　heavier　items　about　for　them。　Nynaeve　liked　finding　ways　to　make　a　man　work；　likely　she　had　deliberately　hunted　out　some　fellows　enjoying　themselves。　。
　　　　　　　What　he　sought　stood　out　among　the　jumble。　A　tall　redstone　doorframe；　looming　oddly　in　the　shadows　cast　by　his　lamp。　When　he　came　closer；　it　still　looked　odd。　Twisted；　somehow。　His　eye　did　not　want　to　follow　it　around；　the　corners　did　not　join　right。　The　tall　hollow　rectangle　seemed　likely　to　fall　over　at　a　breath；　but　when　he　gave　it　an　experimental　push；　it　stood　steady。　He　pushed　a　bit　harder；　not　sure　he　did　not　want　to　heave　the　thing　over；　and　that　side　of　it　scraped　through　the　dust。　Goose　bumps　ran　down　his　arms。　There　might　as　well　have　been　a　wire　fastened　to　the　top；　suspending　it　from　the　ceiling。　He　held　the　lamp　up　to　see。　There　was　no　wire。　At　least　it　won't　topple　while　I'm　inside。　Light；　I　am　going　inside；　aren't　I？
　　　　　　　A　clutter　of　figurines　and　small　things　wrapped　in　rotting　cloth　occupied　the　top　of　a　tall；　upended　barrel　near　him。　He　pushed　the　jumble　to　one　side　so　he　could　set　the　lamp　there；　and　studied　the　doorway。　The　ter'angreal。　If　Egwene　knew　what　she　was　talking　about。　She　probably　did；　no　doubt　she　had　learned　all　sorts　of　strange　things　in　the　Tower；　however　much　she　denied。　She　would　deny　things；　wouldn't　she　now。　Learning　to　be　Aes　Sedai。　She　didn't　deny　this　though；　now　did　she？　If　he　squinted；　it　just　looked　like　a　stone　doorframe；　dully　polished　and　the　duller　for　dust。　Just　a　plain　doorframe。　Well；　not　entirely　plain。　Three　sinuous　lines　carved　deep　in　the　stone　ran　down　each　upright　from　top　to　bottom。　He　had　seen　fancier　on　farmhouses。　He　would　probably　step　through　and　find　himself　still　in　this　dusty　room。
　　　　　　　Won't　know　till　I　try；　will　I？　Luck！　Taking　a　deep　breath　…　and　coughing　from　the　dust　…　he　put　his　foot　through。
　　　　　　　He　seemed　to　be　stepping　through　a　sheet　of　brilliant　white　light；　infinitely　bright；　infinitely　thick。　For　a　moment　that　lasted　forever；　he　was　blind；　a　roaring　filled　his　ears；　all　the　sounds　of　the　world　gathered　together　at　once。　For　just　the　length　of　one　measureless　step。
　　　　　　　Stumbling　another　pace；　he　stared　around　in　amazement。　The　ter'angreal　was　still　there；　but　this　was　certainly　not　where　he　had　started。　The　twisted　stone　doorframe　stood　in　the　center　of　a　round　hall　with　a　ceiling　so　high　it　was　lost　in　shadows；　surrounded　by　strange　spiraled　yellow　columns　snaking　up　into　the　gloom；　like　huge　vines　twining　'round　poles　that　had　been　taken　away。　A　soft　light　came　from　glowing　spheres　atop　coiled　stands　of　some　white　metal。　Not　silver；　the　shine　was　too　dull　for　that。　And　no　hint　of　what　made　the　glow；　it　did　not　look　like　flame；　the　spheres　simply　shone。　The　floor　tiles　spiraled　out　in　white　and　yellow　stripes　from　the　ter'angreal。　There　was　a　heavy　scent　in　the　air；　sharp　and　dry　and　not　particularly　pleasant。　He　almost　turned　around　and　went　back　on　the　spot。
　　　　　　　〃A　long　time。〃
　　　　　　　He　jumped；　a　knife　conning　into　his　hand；　and　peered　among　the　columns　for　the　source　of　the　breathy　voice　that　pronounced　those　words　so　harshly。
　　　　　　　〃A　long　time；　yet　the　seekers　e　again　for　answers。　The　questioners　e　once　more。〃　A　shape　moved；　back　among　the　columns；　a　man；　Mat　thought。　〃Good。　You　have　brought　no　lamps；　no　torches；　as　the　agreement　was；　and　is；　and　ever　will　be。　You　have　no　iron？　No　instruments　of　music？〃
　　　　　　　The　figure　stepped　out；　tall；　barefoot；　arms　and　legs　and　body　wound　about　in　layers　of　yellow　cloth；　and　Mat　was　suddenly　not　so　sure　if　it　was　a　man。　Or　human。　It　looked　human；　at　first　glance；　though　perhaps　too　graceful；　but　it　seemed　far　too　thin　for　its　height；　with　a　narrow；　elongated　face。　Its　skin；　and　even　its　straight　black　hair；　caught　the　pale　light　in　a　way　that　reminded　him　of　a　snake's　scales。　And　those　eyes；　the　pupils　just　black；　vertical　slits。　No；　not　human。
　　　　　　　〃Iron。　Instruments　of　music。　You　have　none？〃
　　　　　　　Mat　wondered　what　it　thought　the　knife　was；　it　certainly　did　not　seem　concerned　over　it。　Well；　the　blade　was　good　steel；　not　iron。　〃No。　No　iron；　and　no　instruments　of　…　Why　…？〃　He　cut　off　sharply。　Three　questions；　Egwene　had　said。　He　was　not　about　to　waste　one　on　〃iron〃　or　〃instruments　of　music。〃　Why　should　he　care　if　I　have　a　dozen　musicians　in　my　pocket　and　a　smithy　on　my　back？　〃I　have　e　here　for　true　answers。　If　you　are　not　the　one　to　give　them；　take　me　to　who　can。〃
　　　　　　　The　man　…　it　was　male　at　least；　Mat　decided　…　smiled　slightly。　He　did　not　show　any　teeth。　〃According　to　the　agreement。　e。〃　He　beckoned　with　one　long…fingered　hand。　〃Follow。〃
　　　　　　　Mat　made　the　knife　disappear　up　his　sleeve。　〃Lead；　and　I　will　follow。〃　Just　you　keep　ahead　of　me　and　in　plain　sight。　This　place　makes　my　skin　crawl。
　　　　　　　There　was　not　a　straight　line　to　be　seen　anywhere　except　for　the　floor　itself；　as　he　trailed　the　strange　man。　Even　the　ceiling　was　always　arched；　and　the　walls　bowed　out。　The　halls　were　continuously　curved；　the　doorways　rounded；　the　windows　perfect　circles。　Tilework　made　spirals　and　sinuous　lines；　and　what　seemed　to　be　bronze　metalwork　set　in　the　ceiling　at　intervals　was　all　plicated　scrolls。　There　were　no　pictures　of　anything；　no　wall　hangings　or　paintings。　Only　patterns；　and　always　curves。
　　　　　　　He　saw　no　one　except　his　silent　guide；　he　could　have　believed　the　place　empty　except　for　the　two　of　them。　From　somewhere　he　had　a　dim　memory　of　walking　halls　that　had　not　known　a　human　foot　in　hundreds　of　years；　and　this　felt　the　same。　Yet　sometimes　he　caught　a　flicker　of　motion　out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye。　Only；　however　quickly　he　turned；　there　was　never　anyone　there。　He　pretended　to　rub　his　forearms；　checking　the　knives　up　his　coatsleeves　for　reassurance。
　　　　　　　What　he　saw　through　those　round　windows　was　even　worse。　Tall　wispy　trees　with　only　a　drooping　umbrella　of　branches　at　the　top；　and　others　like　huge　fans　of　lacy　leaves；　a　tangle　of　growth　equal　to　the　heart　of　any　briar…choked　thicket；　all　under　a　dim；　overcast　light；　though　there　did　not　seem　to　be　a　cloud　in　the　sky。　There　were　always　windows；　always　along　jus