fs.thefirstbookofswords-第3章

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e　possibility　that　Duke　Fraktin　might　sometimes　take　a　benevolent　interest　in　these　poor　outlying　villages　of　his　domain。
　　　The　solid　citizen　who　had　turned　round　to　speak　was　plainly　not　entertaining　any　such　exalted　idea　of　the　masked　man's　identity。　Instead；　he　was　looking　him　over　as　if　not　much　impressed　with　what　he　saw；　small　sword　or　not。　The　citizen　snorted　lightly　at　the　masked　man's　question；　and　shook　his　head。　〃When　a　god　calls；　who's　going　to　stop　and　argue？　If　you　want　to　know　more　about　it；　better　ask　Jord。〃
　　　Jord　had　not　noticed　Mala　yet。　The　brawny；　youngold　man　with　one　arm　and　one　bandaged　stump　still　sat　on　his　chair　where　ritual　had　placed　him；　almost　as　if　he　were　one　of　the　dead　himself。
　　　Mala　heard　the　solid　citizen　saying：　〃His　arm's　still　up　there　on　the　mountain；　but　he　brought　his　pay　for　it　back　with　him。〃　Without　trying　to　understand　what　this　might　mean；　she　pushed　her　way　between　the　intervening　bodies　and　ran　to　Jord。　Inside　the　slow　ring　of　dancers；　Mala　went　down　on　one　knee　before　the　man　she　had　pledged　to　marry；　clutching　at　his　one　hand　and　at　his　knees；　trying　to　explain　how　sorry　she　was　for　what　had　happened　to　him；　and　how　she　had　e　to　him　as　quickly　as　she　could　when　the　news　of　the　horror　reached　her。
　　　At　first　Jord　said　nothing　in　return；　but　only　looked　at　Mala　as　if　from　a　great　distance。　Gradually　more　life　returned　to　his　face　and　in　a　little　while　he　spoke。　Later　Mala　was　never　able　to　remember　exactly　what　either　of　them　said　in　this　first　exchange；　but　afterwards　Jord　could　weep　for　his　friends'　lives　and　his　own　loss；　and　Mala　was　able　to　fort　him。　Meanwhile　the　dancing　and　feverish　festivity　went　on；　punctuated　only　by　outbursts　of　grief。　Looking　back　toward　the　entrance　from　her　place　near　the　center　of　the　hall；　Mala　caught　one　more　glimpse；　between　bodies；　of　the　man　in　the　tooled　leather　mask。
　　　〃All　will　be　well　yet；　lass；〃　Jord　was　able　to　say　at　last。　〃Gods；　but　it's　good　to　have　you　here　to　hug！〃　And　as　Mala　stood　beside　him　he　gripped　her　fiercely　around　the　hips　with　a　huge；　one…armed　blacksmith's　hug。　〃I'm　not　yet　destroyed。　I've　been　thinking　it　out。　I'll　sell　the　smithy　here　and　buy　a　mill　elsewhere。　There's　one　in　Arin　I　can　get。。。　if　I　hire　a　helper　or　two；　I　can　run　a　mill　with　one　hand。〃
　　　Mala　said　things　expressing　agreement；　trying　to　sound　encouraging。　Closing　her　eyes；　she　hoped　devoutly　that　it　would　be　so。　She　told　herself　that　when　Jord　healed　he'd　be　a　young　man　again；　and　he'd　regain　some　part　of　his　old　strength。　Being　wed　to　a　onearmed　man　would　not　be　so　bad　if　he　were　still　a　man　of　property。。。　and　now　two　small　children；　widower　Jord's　by　his　previous　marriage；　came　out　of　the　crowd　to　lean　possessively　against　their　father's　legs；　and　distract　Mala　from　her　other　cares　by　staring　at　her。
　　　The　hands　of　the　small　boy；　Kenn；　began　to　play　absently　with　the　rough　cloth　wrapping　a　long；　thin　object　that　stood　leaning　against　his　father's　chair。　Mala；　without　really　giving　it　thought；　had　assumed　this　object　was　some　kind　of　aid　provided　for　the　crippled　man；　a　crutch　or　possibly　a　stretcher。　Now　that　she　really　looked　at　the　bundle　she　could　see　that　it　was　certainly　not　long　enough　for　either。　Nor　was　there　any　obvious　reason　for　a　crutch　or　a　stretcher　to　be　wrapped　up；　nor；　for　that　matter；　did　it　appear　that　Jord　would　be　likely　to　benefit　from　either　one。
　　　Jord　saw　what　she　was　looking　at。　〃My　pay；〃　he　said。　Gently　he　eased　his　son's　small　hands　from　the　wrapped　thing。　〃Not　yours　yet；　Kenn。　In　time；　in　time。　Not　yours　to　have　to　worry　about；　Marian。〃　And　with　a　huge　finger　he　brushed　his　tiny　daughter's　cheek。　Then　he　grabbed　the　upper　end　of　the　bundle　firmly　in　his　large　fist；　and　raised　it　in　the　air　and　shook　it；　so　that　the　rough　wrappings　fell　free　except　where　his　grip　had　caught　them。　People　on　all　sides　were　turning　to　look。　The　blade　was　a　full　meter　long；　and　straight　as　an　arrow；　with　lightly　fluted　sides。　Both　edges　keened　down　to　perfect　lines；　invisibly　sharp。
　　　〃What？　Who？。。。　〃　Mala　could　only　stumble　helplessly。
　　　〃Vulcan's　own　handiwork。〃　Jord's　voice　was　rough　and　bitter。　〃This　is　for　me；　and　for　my　son　after　me。　This　is　my　pay。〃
　　　Mala　marveled　silently。　In　the　version　of　the　story　that　she　had　heard　in　her　own　village；　an　obviously　inplete　version；　there　had　been　nothing　about　a　sword。。。　Jord's　pay？　Even　in　the　paratively　dim　candlelight　the　steel　had　a　polished　look。　Mala's　keen　eyes　could　pick　out　a　fine；　faint　mottled　patterning　along　the　flat　of　the　blade；　a　pattern　that　seemed　to　lead　deep　into　the　metal　though　the　surface　was　flawlessly　smooth。
　　　The　chain　of　dancers　had　slowed　almost　to　a　stop。　Their　faces　wore　a　variety　of　expressions；　but　all　were　turned；　like　many　in　the　crowd　beyond；　to　look　at　the　blade。
　　　〃My　pay；〃　said　Jord　again；　in　the　same　harsh　voice；　that　carried　through　the　sudden　relative　quiet。　〃So　Vulcan　told　me；　when　he　had　taken　off　my　arm。〃　He　shook　the　sword　in　his　inexpert　hand。　〃My　arm；　for　this。　So　the　god　said。　He　called　this　'Townsaver。〃'　The　bitterness　in　Jord's　voice　was　great；　but　still　impersonal；　the　kind　of　anger　a　man　might　express　against　a　thunderstorm　that　had　destroyed　his　crops。　His　hand　was　beginning　to　quiver　with　his　weakness　now；　and　he　lowered　the　sword　and　started　trying　to　wrap　it　up　again；　a　job　in　which　he　needed　Mala's　help。
　　　〃I　must　get　something　finer　than　this　cloth　to　keep　it　in；〃　he　muttered。
　　　Mala　still　didn't　know　what　to　say　or　think。　The　sword　bewildered　her；　she　couldn't　guess　what　it　might　mean。　Jord's　pay；　from　Vulcan？　Pay　for　what？　Why　should　the　god　have　wanted　a　man's　right　arm？　And　why　a　sword？　What　would　a　blacksmith；　or　any　moner；　have　to　do　with　such　a　weapon？
　　　She　would　have　to　discuss　it　all　with　Jord　later；　in　detail。　Now　was　not　the　time　or　place。　Now　the　dance　and　the　noise　around　them　had　picked　up　again；　though　at　a　lesser　level　of　energy。
　　　〃Mala？〃　Jord's　voice　held　a　new　and　different　note。
　　　〃Yes？〃
　　　〃The　dance　will　be　ending　soon。　I　must　stay　here；　they're　going　to　do　some　more　healing　spells　and　ritual。　But　maybe　you'd　better　be　going　along　now。〃　Jord　was　lying　back　weakly　in　his　chair；　letting　his　eyes　close。
　　　Mala　understood。　When　a　wake…dance　like　this　one　ended；　there　usually　followed　a　final　phase　of　the　evening's　munity　action：　those　mourners　who　were　free　to　do　so　would　pair　off；　man　with　woman；　youth　with　girl；　and　go　out　into　the　fertile　fields　around　the　house　or　village；　there　to　lie　coupled　in　the　soil　from　which　the　harvests　came。　Death　would　be；　if　not　mocked；　in　some　sense　negated　by　that　other　power；　just　as　old；　of　life…creation。　Mala　was　still　an　unmarried　woman；　still　free；　in　a　strict　interpretation　of　the　rules；　to　join　in　the　night's　last　ritual。　But　as　her　wedding　was　only　two　days　off；　it　would　be　unseemly　for　her　to　do　so　with　anyone　but　her　betrothed。　And　Jord　was　still　oozing　blood；　barely　able　to　sit　up　in　his　chair。
　　　She　said：　〃Yes；　I'll　be　going。　Tomorrow；　Jord；　I'll　see　you　then。〃　Now　she　would　have　a　long　ride　back　to　her　own　village；　or　else　she　would　have　to　try　to　find　some　place　in　this　village　to　stay　the　night。　She　didn't　feel　confident　about　Jord's　kinfolk　here；　how　well　they　liked　her；　how　wele　she'd　be　made　to　feel　in　their　houses。　Perhaps；　except　for　the　two　small　children；　they　didn't　even　know　yet　that　she'd　arrived。　In　accordance　with　custom；　the　marriage　had　been　arranged　by　family　elders　on　both　sides；　and　there　had　been　no　long　acquaintance　between　families。
　　　Mala　had　liked　Jord　himself　well　enough　from　their　first　meeting。　She　had　raised　no　objection　when　the　match　was　made；　and　had　no　real　objection　to　going　on　with　it　now；　in　fact　his　maiming　had　roused　in　her　a　fiercely　increased　attachment。　But　at　the　same　time。。。
　　　The　center　of　the　hall；　with　its　burden　of　dead　and　wounded；　seemed　to　her　to　stink　of　death　and　suffering　and　defeat。　Mala　gripped　Jord　once　more；　by　his　hand　and　his　good　shoulder；　and　turned　away　from　him。　Other　people　who　like　Mala　were　unable　or　unwilling　to　stay　were　also　leaving　now。　She　went　out　through　the　hide…hung　doorway　with　a　small　group　of　these。　The　group　thinned　rapidly；　and　somehow　by　the　time　she　reached　the　hitching　rack　she　was　alone　in　the　dark　street。　She　took　hold　of　her　beast's　reins　to　untie　them。
　　　〃It　is　not　over；〃　said　the　calm；　soft　voice　of　the　masked　man；　quite　near　at　hand。
　　　Mala　turned　slowly。　There　were　only　the　massed　stars　to　see　him　by；　with　the　moon　behind　a　cloud。　He　was　alone；　too；　holding　one　hand　outstretched　to　Mala　if　she　wished　to　take　it。　Around　them　other　couples　passed　in　the　dark　street；　moving　anonymously　out　toward　the　fields。
　　　Almost　nine　months　had　passed　before　Mala　saw　the　dark　leather　mask　and　its　wearer　again；　and　then　only　among　the　other　images　of　a　drugged　dream。　She　was　traveling　with　her　husband　Jord　to　another　funeral　（this　for　a　man　who'd　undoubtedly　been　her　most　eminent　kinsman；　a　minor　priest　in　the　Blue　Temple）；　and　she'd　got　as　far　as　a　large　Temple　of　Ardneh；　almost　two　hundred　kilometers　from　the　mill　and　home；　before　the　first　unmistakable　labor　pains　had　started。
　　　This　being　her　firstborn；　Mala　hadn't　been　able　to　interpret　the　advance　signs　properly。　Still；　she　could　hardly　have　arranged　to　be　in　a　better　location　no　matter　how　carefully　she'd　planned。　The　Temples　of　Ardneh　were　in　general　the　best　hospitals　available　on　the　entire　continent　…　for　most　folk　they　were　actually　the　only　ones。　Many　of　Ardneh's　priests　and　priestesses　were　concerned　with　healing；　accustomed　to　dealing　with　childbirth　and　its　plications。　They　knew　drugs；　and　some　healing　magic；　and　in　some　cases　they　even　had　access　to　certain　surviving　technology　of　the　Old　World；　enough　of　it　to　make　possible　the　arcane　art　of　effective　surgery。
　　　It　was　near　sunset　when　Mala's　labor　began　in　earnest。　And　at　sunset　music　began　to　be　heard　in　that　Temple；　music　that　as　it　happened　was　not　greatly　different　from　what　had　been　played　at　that　village　funeral　eight　and　a　half　months　earlier。　It　may　have　been　the　similar　drumbeat　that　helped　to　bring　that　masked　face　back　in　dreams。　The　drumbeat；　and　of　course　Mala's　fervent　but　so　far　utterly　secret　suspicion　that　the　father　of　her　firstborn　was　not　Jord　but　rather　that　man　whose　face　she'd　never　seen　without　its　mask。　Over　the　past　few　months　she'd　tried　to　find　out　what　she　could　about　Duke　Fraktin；　but　apart　from　confirming　his　reputation　for　occasional　cruelty；　for　occasional　excursions　among　the　mon　people　in　disguise；　for　wealth；　and　for　magical　power；　she　knew　very　little　more　now　than　she　had　before。
　　　Tonight；　lying　in　an　accouchement　chamber　halfway　up　the　high　pyramidal　Temple；　Mala　was　questioned；　in　her　lucid　intervals　between　pain　and　druggings；　about　her　dreams。　Jord　had　been　sent　dashing　out　on　some　make…work　errand　by　the　midwife…priestess；　who　now　asked　Mala　with　brisk　professional　interest　…　and　some　evident　kindness；　too　…　exactly　what　she　had　dreamed　about　when　the　last　contractions　came。　The　drugs　and　spells　reacted　with　pain　directly；　turning　it　into　dreams；　some　happy　and　some　not。
　　　Mala　described　the　masked　man　to　the　prie