fs.thefirstbookofswords-第2章
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
ough； of the unearthly to the project。
Human sweat and human pain were going to be indispensible。 The catalyst of human fear would help to refine the magic too。 And even human joy might be put to use…if the Smith could devise any means by which that rare essence might be extracted。
And when the twelve blades had been forged at last； when he could raise them straight and glowing from the anvil…why； for their quenching； human blood would doubtless be best。。。
The keening pipe…music and the slow drum were borne to Mala's ears by the cool night breeze； well before the few dim lights of Treefall village came into her view between the trees ahead。 The sounds of mourning warned her that at least some part of the horrible tale that had reached her at home was probably true。 She murmured one more distracted prayer to Ardneh； and once again impatiently lashed with the ends of the reins at the flanks of the old riding…beast she straddled。 Her mount was an elderly creature； unused to such harsh treatment； and to long night journeys in general。 When it felt the sting of the reins it skipped a step； then slowed down in irritation。 Mala in her impatience thought of leaping from its back and running on ahead； groping her own way along the lightless and unpaved road。 But already she had almost reached her destination； now she could hear the cackling of the village fowl ahead as they sensed her approach。 And now the first lighted windows were ing into view amid the trees。
Presently； on a main street every bit as small and narrow as the only street of her own town； Mala was dismounting under a million stars； whose light made gray and ghostly giants of the Ludus Mountains looming just a few kilometers to the east。 Autumn nights in this high country grew cold； and she was wearing a shawl over her regular garb； a workingwoman's homespun trousers and loose blouse。
The music of mourning was ing from a building that had to be the village hall； for it was the largest structure in sight； and one of the few lighted。 Mala tied up her animal at a public hitching rack that was already crowded。 Moving lightly； though her joints felt stiff from the long ride； she trotted the few steps to the hall。 Her hair was long； dark； and curly； the loveliest thing about her physical appearance。 Her face was somewhat too broad to be judged beautiful by most peoples standards； her body also was broad and strong； vibrant with youth and exercise。
Her quick step carried her onto the shadowed porch of the hall before she realized that a man was standing there already。 He was in shadows； not far from the curtained doorway through which candlelight and music came out； along with the murmur of many voices and the soft thump of dancing feet。 His bearded face was unfamiliar to Mala； but he had a certain look of importance； he must； she thought； be one of the elders here。
To simply rush past an elder without acknowledging his presence would have been impolite； and Mala halted； one foot in the shadow cast by the rising moon。 〃Sir； please； can you tell me where Jord the blacksmith is？〃 Since courtesy required speech of her； she would not waste the words。 but instead try to use them to acplish her urgent search。
The man did not answer her immediately。 Instead； he only looked in her direction as if he had not clearly heard； or understood。 As he turned his face more fully toward Mala； she saw that he was stunned by some great pain or grief。
She spoke to him again。 〃I'm looking for Jord； the smith。 We were…we are to be married：〃
Understanding grew in the tormented face。 〃lord？ He still breathes； child。 Not like my son…but both of them are in there。〃
Mala put aside the curtain of hides that half…closed the doorway； and went through； to enter the most crowded room that she had ever seen in her seventeen years of life。 She guessed wildly that forty people； perhaps even more； were gathered here in one place tonight。 Yet the hall was big enough for the crowd； even big enough to have at its center a sizable area free of crowding。 In that central area stood five rude biers； each covered with black fabric； expensive candles burning at the head and foot of each。 On each bier a dead man lay draped with ritual cloths； on several of the bodies the cloths were not enough to hide the marks of violence。
Near the foot of the central bier was a single chair。 Jord was sitting in it。 Mala's first glance at him made her gasp； confirming as it did another aspect of the story that had reached her in her own village： the right arm of her betrothed now ended a few centimeters below the shoulder。 The stump was tightly wrapped； in fresh； well…tended bandages； lightly spotted with the bleeding from beneath。 Jord's beardstubbled face was aged and shrunken； making him look in Mala's eyes like his own father。 In his light hair there was a gray streak that she had never noticed before。 His blue eyes were downcast； staring almost witlessly at the plank floor； and the dancers' feet that trod it slowly a pace or two away from him。 The ring of village women who danced so slowly to the dirge went round the biers and chair； their feet hitting the floor softly in time to the drum； slow…beaten back in the rear of the large hall。
And outside the dancing ring； the other mournersyes； there might really be forty of them…mingled and socialized； wept； joked； chatted； prayed； ate and drank； meditated or wailed in loss just as their spirits moved them； each in his or her own cycle of behavior。 There was a priest of Ardneh； recognizable by his white suit； forting an old woman who shrieked above all other sounds her agony of grief。 Most of the crowd looked like folk of this village； as was only natural the story had said that all the dead men were from here； as was Jord。 Mala could recognize some of the faces in the crowd； from her earlier visits here to meet Jord and his kinfolk。 But most of the people were unknown to her； and a few of them were dressed outlandishly； as if they might have e from far away。
Still standing near the doorway； looking over shoulders and between shifting bodies； Mala breathed a prayer of thanksgiving to Ardneh for Jord's survival； and yet； even as she prayed； she felt a new pang of inner anguish。 The man she was going to marry had been changed； drastically and terribly； before she had ever had the chance to know him in his full health and strength and youth。 Then as if trying to reject that thought she tried to step forward； meaning to hurry to Jord at once。 But the thick press of bodies held her back。
At this moment she had the impression of an odd； momentary pause in the room…but it must have been only a seeming in her mind； she was not used to crowds； and when she looked at the faces in the crowd around her they were all doing just what they had been doing a moment earlier。 But in that moment of pause； the hide curtain draping the doorway behind Mala had been put aside by someone else's hand。 Amid the din of music and grief and conversation there was no way she could have heard that soft movement； but she did feel the suddenly augmented breath of the cold wind that at night here slid down from the mountains。
And then in the next 。moment a man's hand came to rest on Mala's arm … not insinuatingly； not harshly either； but just as if it had a right to be there； like the hand of a father or an uncle。 But he was none of those。 His face was entirely concealed by a mask； made of what looked like dark； tooled leather。 The mask surprised Mala； but only for a moment。 A few times in her life before； at wakes and funerals； she had seen men wearing masks。 The explanation was that feuds could be exacerbated； friendships and alliances sometimes strained； if a man whose opinion mattered were seen to be mourning openly for the enemy of a friend or ally； while at the same time； some conflicting rule of conduct might require him to do so。 A mask allowed its wearer's identity to be ignored by those who did not wish to know it； even if it were not really kept a secret。
The masked man was somewhat on the short side； and well enough dressed in simple clothing。 And Mala thought that he was young。 〃What has happened； Mala？〃 His voice； close to her ear； was almost a whisper。
He knew her； so he was most likely some distant relative of Jord's。 Or； thought Mala； noting the short sword at his belt； he might even be some minor lord or knight； one who had perhaps at some time been served by Jord as smith or armorer。
And the masked man must have e here from some distance； and must have just arrived； not to know already what had happened。 In the face of such ignorance Mala stumbled over words； not so much trying to repeat the story as she had heard it as trying to find some reasonable explanation of the horror。 But an explanation was hard to find。
She tried： 〃They。。。 all six of them。。。 they were called by a god to go up on the mountain。 Then。。。 〃
〃Which god's call did they follow？〃 The quiet voice was not surprised by talk of gods； it wanted to nail down the facts。
One of the men who had been standing in front of Mala； unintentionally blocking her path to Jord； turned round at that。 〃They answered Vulcan's call。 No doubt about it； the god chose them himself。 I heard him … so did half the village … more than half。 Vulcan himself came down here from the mountain in the night and called the six men out by name。 The rest of us just lay low in our beds； I can tell you。 Next day； when none of the six had e back yet； we gathered here in the hall and wondered。 The women kept egging us on to find out what had happened； and eventually some of us started climbing。。。 it wasn't pretty； what we found there； I can tell you。〃
〃And what；〃 the masked man asked； 〃if they had chosen not to follow Vulcans call？〃 The light in the hall was too uncertain； the shadows too heavy； for Mala to be able to tell if his hands looked like those of a worker or of a man highborn。 The hair emerging from his jacket's cowl was dark； with a hint of curl； giving no clue about his station。 Perhaps it was this very indeterminateness in his appearance that first raised in Mala's mind a suspicion that seemed to e out of nowhere： I wonder if this could be the Duke himself。 Mala had never actually seen the Duke； but like thousands of his other subjects who had not seen him either she knew； or thought she knew； certain things about him。 One of the most intriguing of these things was that he was supposed to go out in disguise from time to time； adventuring and spying among his people。 According to other information； he was still a relatively young man； and it was also said that he was physically rather small。
Jord； Mala thought； might have worked for the Duke at one time。 Or some of the dead men on the biers might have。 That could explain why the Duke had shown up here tonight。。。 she told herself that she was making things up； but still。。。 there were some stories told about the Duke's cruelty； on occasion； but then； Mala supposed； such stories were told about almost all powerful folk。 Even if they were true； she thought； they didn't preclude the possibility that Duke Fraktin might sometimes take a benevolent interest in these poor outlying vi
