srdonaldson.thepowerthatpreserves-第52章

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to　a　large　sheet　of　moss　hanging　nearby；　where　she　drank　deeply　of　its　rich　green　moisture。　This　refreshed　her；　gave　her　enough　strength　to　wrestle　the　sick　man　back　into　the　cave　and　control　him　while　she　put　him　back　to　sleep　with　a　pinch　of　her　rare　powder。
　　　　Under　other　circumstances；　she　might　have　pitied　the　turgid　panic　with　which　he　felt　himself　lapsing　into　helplessness　again。　But　she　was　too　weary…and　too　full　of　dread　for　the　work　she　had　yet　to　do。　She　did　not　know　how　to　console　him　and　made　no　attempt。　When　he　fell　into　uneasy　slumber；　she　only　muttered　〃Mercy〃　over　him；　and　turned　away。
　　　　She　wanted　to　sleep；　too；　but　she　was　alone　and　had　to　bear　the　burden　of　care　herself。　Groaning　at　the　unwieldiness　of　her　old　joints；　she　built　another　fire　from　the　graveling　and　started　a　meal　for　herself　and　the　sick　man。
　　　　While　the　food　heated；　she　inspected　his　ankle。　She　nodded　dully　when　she　saw　that　it　was　as　whole　as　her　own。　Already　his　pale　scars　were　fading。　Soon　his　bones　would　be　as　well　and　sturdy　as　if　they　had　never　been　fractured。　Looking　at　the　evidence　of　her　power；　she　wished　that　she　could　take　pleasure　in　it。　But　she　had　lost　decades　ago　her　capacity　to　be　pleased　by　the　results　of　her　anguish。　She　knew　with　certainty　that　if　she　had　prehended　when　she　was　young　what　her　decisions　would　cost；　she　would　never　have　taken　the　Rites　of　Unfettering；　never　have　surrendered　to　the　secret　power　yearning　for　birth　within　her。
　　　　But　power　was　not　so　easily　evaded。　Costs　could　not　be　known　until　they　came　to　full　fruition；　and　by　that　time　the　power　no　longer　served　the　wielder。　Then　the　wielder　was　the　servant。　No　escape；　no　peace　or　reticence；　could　then　evade　the　expense；　and　she　could　take　no　pleasure　in　healing。　With　the　work　she　had　yet　to　do　lying　stricken　before　her；　she　had　no　more　satisfaction　than　choice。
　　　　Yet　as　she　resumed　her　cooking；　she　turned　her　back　on　regret。　〃Let　it　pass；〃　she　murmured　dimly。　〃Let　it　pass。　Only　let　it　be　done　purely…　without　failure。〃　At　least　the　work　which　remained　would　be　a　different　pain　altogether。
　　　　When　the　food　was　ready；　she　fed　herself　and　Covenant；　then　gave　him　more　of　the　soporific　broth；　so　that　he　would　not　arise　to　strike　her　again。　Then　she　banked　her　cookfire；　pulled　her　tattered　cloak　tightly　around　her；　and　went　agedly　to　sleep　leaning　against　the　pile　of　leaves　that　had　been　her　bed。
　　　　In　the　days　that　followed；　she　rested；　tended　Covenant's　madness；　and　tried　to　remember　courage。　His　need　made　her　heart　quail　in　her　old　bosom。　Even　in　his　slumber　she　could　see　that　his　mind　was　being　eaten　away　by　its　ingrown　torments。　As　his　body　regained　its　strength；　her　potions　slowly　lost　their　ability　to　control　the　restlessness　of　his　dream…ridden　sleep。　He　began　to　flail　his　arms　and　jabber　deliriously；　like　a　man　snared　in　the　skein　of　a　nightmare。　At　unexpected　moments；　his　ring　gave　out　white　gleams　of　passion；　and　when　by　chance　the　Healer　saw　them　squarely；　they　seemed　to　pierce　her　like　a　voice　of　misery；　beseeching　her　to　her　work。
　　　　The　Forest　itself　echoed　his　distress。　Its　mood　bent　in　toward　her　like　a　demand；　a　pulsion　as　unmistakable　as　the　summons　which　had　called　her　to　him　in　the　beginning。　She　did　not　know　why　Morinmoss　cared；　she　only　felt　its　caring　brush　her　cheek　like　the　palm　of　authority；　warning　her。　He　needed　to　be　healed。　If　it　were　not　done　in　time；　the　essential　fabric　of　his　being　would　rot　beyond　all　restitution。
　　　　At　last　she　became　aware　of　time；　she　felt　in　the　brightness　of　the　tree　shine　that　somewhere　behind　the　impenetrable　clouds　moved　a　dark　moon；　readying　itself　for　a　new　phase　of　the　Despiser's　power。　She　forced　herself　to　unclench　her　hesitations；　one　by　one；　and　to　face　her　work　again。
　　　　Then　she　built　her　high　blaze　for　the　second　time　and　made　ready　her　rare　powder。　While　the　hard　wood　took　fire；　she　set　both　water　and　food　on　the　shelf　above　Covenant　so　that　if　he　regained　consciousness　before　she　did；　he　would　not　have　to　search　for　what　he　needed。　A　fatal　mood　was　on　her；　and　she　did　not　believe　she　would　survive。　〃Mercy；〃　she　muttered　as　the　fire　mounted；　〃mercy。〃　She　uttered　the　word　as　if　she　were　seeking　a　benediction　for　herself。
　　　　Soon　the　flames　filled　her　cave　with　light　and　heat；　flushing　the　withered　skin　of　her　cheeks。　The　time　had　e；　she　could　feel　the　power　limping　in　her　like　a　sere　lover；　oddly　frail　and　masterful；　yearning　for　its　chance　to　rise　up　once　more　and　take　her…yearning；　and　yet　strangely　inadequate；　old；　as　if　it　could　no　longer　match　what　it　remembered　of　its　desires。　For　a　moment；　her　blood　deserted　her；　weakness　filled　all　her　muscles；　so　that　the　leather　pouch　fell　from　her　fingers。　But　then　she　stooped　to　regain　it；　thrust　her　trembling　hand　into　it；　threw　its　dust　into　the　fire　as　if　that　gesture　were　her　last；　best　approximation　of　courage。
　　　　As　the　potent　aroma　of　the　dust　spread　its　arms；　took　all　the　air　of　the　cave　into　its　embrace；　began　its　slow　transubstantiation　of　the　firelight；　she　stood　near　Covenant's　head　and　locked　her　quavering　knees。　Staring　brownly　at　his　forehead　while　the　heat　and　illumination　of　the　blaze　came　into　consonance　with　her　attention；　she　passed　beyond　the　verges　of　volition　and　became　once　more　the　vessel　of　her　power。　Around　her　the　cave　grew　dim　as　the　rich；　loamy　light　of　the　bond　wove　itself　between　her　pupilless　orbs　and　his　sick；　mad　mind。　And　before　her　Covenant　tensed；　stiffened…eyes　staring　gauntly；　neck　corded；　knuckles　white…as　if　her　power　clutched　his　very　soul　with　fear。
　　　　Trembling；　she　reached　out　her　hands；　placed　her　palms　flat　against　the　gathered　thunder　of　his　forehead。
　　　　The　next　instant；　she　recoiled　as　if　he　had　scalded　her。　〃No！〃　she　cried。　Horror　flooded　her；　she　foundered　in　it。　〃　You　ask　too　much！''　Deep　within　her；　she　fought　to　regain　her　self…mand；　fought　to　thrust　down　the　power；　deny　it；　return　to　herself　so　that　she　would　not　be　destroyed。　〃I　cannot　heal　this！〃　But　the　man's　madness　came　upon　her　as　if　he　had　reached　out　and　caught　her　wrists。　Wailing　helplessly；　she　returned　to　him；　replaced　her　palms　on　his　forehead。
　　　　The　terror　of　it　rushed　into　her；　filled　her　until　it　burst　between　her　lips　like　a　shriek。　Yet　she　could　not　withdraw。　His　madness　pounded　through　her　as　she　sank　into　it；　trying　not　to　see　what　lay　at　its　root。　And　when　at　last　it　made　her　see；　forced　her　to　behold　itself；　the　leering　disease　of　its　source；　she　knew　that　she　was　ruined。　She　wrenched　her　seared　hands　from　his　head　and　went　hunting；　scrabbling　frantically　among　her　possessions。
　　　　Still　shrieking；　she　pounced　upon　a　long　stone　cooking　knife；　snatched　it　up；　aimed　it　at　his　vulnerable　heart。
　　　　He　lay　under　the　knife　like　a　sacrifice　defiled　with　leprosy。
　　　　But　before　she　could　stab　out　his　life；　consummate　his　unclean　pain　in　death；　a　host　of　glaucous；　alien　gleams　leaped　like　music　into　the　air　around　her。　They　fell　on　her　like　dew；　clung　to　her　like　moist　melody；　stayed　her　hand；　they　confined　her　power　and　her　anguish；　held　all　things　within　her　until　her　taut；　soundless　cry　imploded。　They　contained　her　until　she　broke　under　the　strain　of　things　that　could　not　be　contained。　Then　they　let　her　fall。
　　　　Gleaming　like　the　grief　of　trees；　they　sang　themselves　away。
　
　FOURTEEN　
　Only　Those　Who　Hate
　
　　　　Covenant　first　awoke　after　a　night　and　a　day。　But　the　stupor　of　essential　sleep　was　still　on　him；　and　he　only　roused　himself　at　the　behest　of　a　nagging　thirst。　When　he　sat　up　in　the　bed　of　leaves；　he　found　a　water　jug　on　a　shelf　by　his　head。　He　drank　deeply；　then　saw　that　a　bowl　of　fruit　and　bread　also　occupied　the　shelf。　He　ate；　drank　again；　and　went　back　to　sleep　as　soon　as　he　had　stretched　himself　out　among　the　warm　dry　leaves　once　more。
　　　　The　next　time；　he　came　languorously　out　of　slumber　amid　the　old　gentle　fragrance　of　the　bed。　When　he　opened　his　eyes；　he　discovered　that　he　was　looking　up　through　a　dim　gloom　of　daylight　at　the　root…woven　roof　of　a　cave。　He　turned　his　head；　looked　around　the　earthen　walls　until　he　located　the　moss…hung　entrance　which　admitted　so　little　light。　He　did　not　know　where　he　was；　or　how　he　had　e　here；　or　how　long　he　had　slept。　But　his　ignorance　caused　him　no　distress。　He　had　recovered　from　fear。　On　the　strength　of　unknown　things　which　lay　hidden　behind　the　veil　of　his　repose；　he　felt　sure　that　he　had　no　need　to　fear。
　　　　That　feeling　was　the　only　emotion　in　him。　He　was　calm；　steady；　and　hollow…empty　and　therefore　undisturbed…as　if　the　same　cleansing　or　apotheosis　which　had　quenched　his　terror　had　also　drained　every　other　passion　from　him。　For　a　time；　he　could　not　even　remember　what　those　passions　had　been；　between　him　and　his　past　lay　nothing　but　sleep　and　an　annealed　gulf　of　extravagant　fear。
　　　　Then　he　caught　the　first　faint　scent　of　death　in　the　air。　It　was　not　urgent；　and　he　did　not　react　to　it　immediately。　While　he　took　its　measure；　made　sure　of　it；　he　stretched　his　sleep…stiff　muscles；　feeling　the　flex　of　their　revitalization。　Whatever　had　brought　him　to　this　place　had　happened　so　long　ago　that　even　his　body　appeared　to　have　forgotten　it。　Yet　his　recovery　gave　him　little　satisfaction。　He　accepted　it　with　plete　and　empty　confidence；　for　reasons　that　were　hidden　from　him。
　　　　When　he　was　ready；　he　swung　his　feet　off　the　bed　and　sat　up。　At　once；　he　saw　the　old　brown　woman　lying　crumpled　on　the　floor。　She　was　dead　with　an　outcry　still　rigid　on　her　lips　and　a　blasted　look　in　the　staring　loam　of　her　eyes。　In　the　dim　light；　she　seemed　like　a　wracked　mound　of　earth。　He　did　not　know　who　she　was…he　gazed　at　her　with　an　effort　of　recollection　and　could　not　remember　ever　having　seen　her　before…but　she　gave　him　the　vague　impression　that　she；　too；　had　died　for　him。
　　　　That's　enough；　he　said　dimly　to　himself。　Other　memories　began　to　float　to　the　surface　like　the　dead　seaweed　and　wreckage　of　his　life。　This　must　not　happen　again。
　　　　He　looked　down　at　the　unfamiliar　white　robe　for　a　moment；　then　pushed　the　cloth　aside　so　that　he　could　see　his　ankle。
　　　　It　was　broken；　he　thought　in　hollow　surprise。　He　could　remember　breaking　it；　he　could　remember　wrestling　with　Pietten；　falling…he　could　remember　using　Pietten's　spear　to　help　him　walk　until　the　fracture　froze。　Yet　now　it　showed　no　sign　of　any　break。　He　tested　it　against　the　floor；　half　expecting　its　wholeness　to　vanish　like　an　illusion。　He　stood　up；　hopped　from　foot　to　foot；　sat　down　again。　Muttering　dully　to　himself；　By　hell；　by　hell；　he　gave　himself　his　first　VSE　in　many　days。
　　　　He　found　that　he　was　more　healed　than　he　would　have　believed　possible。　The　damage　which　he　had　done　to　his　feet　was　almost　pletely　gone。　His　gaunt　hands　flexed　easily…though　they　had　lost　flesh；　and　his　ring　hung　loosely　on　his　wedding　finger。　Except　for　a　faint　numbness　at　their　tips；　his　ears　and　nose　had　recovered　from　frostbite。　His　very　bones　were　full　of　deep；　sustaining　warmth。
　　　　But　other　things　had　not　changed。　His　cheeks　felt　as　stiff　as　ever。　Along　his　forehead　was　the　lump　of　a　badly　healed　scar；　it　was　tender　to　the　touch；　as　if　beneath　the　surface　it　festered　against　his　skull。　And　his　disease　still　gnawed　its　way　remorselessly　up　the　nerves　of　his　hands　and　feet。　His　fingers　were　numb　to