ggk.thelionsofal-rassan-第31章

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tured　east　across　the　Serrana　Range　in　the　days　when　Silvenes　was　the　center　of　the　western　world。　Now；　since　the　Khalifate's　thunderous　fall；　every　one　of　the　city…kings　had　his　share　of　craftsmen　and　artists　to　exalt　and　extol　his　virtues。　They　were　all　lions；　if　one　could　believe　the　honey…tongued　poets　of　Al…Rassan。
　　One　couldn't；　of　course。　Poets　were　poets；　and　had　a　living　to　earn。　Kings　were　kings；　and　there　were　a　score　of　them　now；　some　foundering　in　the　ruin　of　their　walls；　some　festering　in　fear　or　greed；　a　few…a　very　few…conceivably　heirs　to　what　Silvenes　had　been。　It　seemed　to　Alvar；　on　little　enough　experience；　that　King　Badir　in　Ragosa　had　to　be　numbered　among　those　in　the　last　group。
　　Amid　all　the　strangeness　surrounding　him…the　unknown；　intoxicating　smells　from　doorway　and　courtyard　and　food　stall；　the　bells　summoning　the　devout　to　prayer　at　measured　intervals　during　the　day　and　night；　the　riot　of　noise　and　color　in　the　marketplace；　Alvar　was　grateful　that　here　in　Al…Rassan　they　still　measured　the　round　of　the　year　by　the　white　moon's　cycling　from　full　to　full　as　they　did　back　home。　At　least　that　hadn't　changed。　He　could　say　exactly　how　long　he'd　been　here；　in　another　world。
　　On　the　other　hand；　it　felt　like　so　much　more　than　three　months；　when　he　paused　to　look　back。　His　year　in　Esteren　seemed　eerily　remote；　and　the　farm　almost　unimaginably　distant。　He　wondered　what　his　mother　would　say；　could　she　have　seen　him　in　his　loosely　belted；　flowing　Asharite　garb　during　the　summer　past。　Actually；　he　didn't　wonder：　he　was　fairly　certain　he　knew。　She'd　have　headed　straight　back　to　Vasca's　Isle；　on　her　knees；　in　penance　for　his　sins。
　　The　fact　was；　though；　summer　was　hot　here　in　the　south。　One　needed　a　headcovering　in　the　white　light　of　midday；　one　less　cumbersome　than　a　stiff　leather　hat；　and　the　light…colored　cotton　tunics　and　trousers　of　Al…Rassan　were　far　more　fortable　in　the　city　streets　than　what　he　had　been　wearing　when　they　arrived。　His　face　was　darkened　by　the　sun；　he　looked　half　Asharite　himself；　Alvar　knew。　It　was　an　odd　sensation；　gazing　in　a　glass　and　seeing　the　man　who　looked　back。　There　were　mirrors　everywhere；　too；　the　Ragosans　were　a　vain　people。
　　Autumn　had　e　in　the　meantime；　he　wore　a　light　brown　cloak　over　his　clothing　now。　Jehane　had　picked　it　out　for　him　when　the　weather　began　to　change。　Twisting　and　pushing…expertly　now…through　the　crowds　of　the　weekly　market；　Alvar　could　hardly　believe　how　little　time　had　really　passed　since　the　two　of　them　and　Velaz　had　e　through　the　mountain　pass　and　first　seen　the　blue　waters　of　the　lake　and　the　towers　of　Ragosa。
　　He　had　been　at　pains　to　conceal　his　awe　that　day；　though　looking　back　from　his　newly　sophisticated　vantage　point　he　suspected　that　his　two　panions　had　simply　been　generous　enough　to　pretend　not　to　notice。　Even　Fezana　had　intimidated　him　from　a　distance。　Ragosa　dwarfed　it。　Only　Cartada　itself　now…with　Silvenes　of　the　khalifs　looted　and　gutted　years　ago…was　a　more　formidable　city。　Next　to　this　high…walled；　many…towered　magnificence；　Esteren　was　as　the　hamlet　of　Orvilla；　where　Garcia　de　Rada　had　e　raiding　on　a　night　in　summer。
　　Alvar's　life　had　forked　like　a　branch　that　night；　his　path　in　the　morning　running　east　through　Al…Rassan　and　across　the　Serrana　Range　to　these　walls　with　Jehane　bet　Ishak；　instead　of　north　and　home　with　the　Captain。
　　His　own　choice；　too；　endorsed　by　Rodrigo　and　accepted；　if　grudgingly　at　first；　by　Jehane。　She　would　need　a　guard　on　the　road；　Alvar　had　declared　in　the　morning　after　a　memorable　camp…fire　conversation。　A　soldier；　he'd　added；　not　merely　a　servant；　however　loyal　and　brave　that　servant　might　be。　Alvar　had　offered　to　be　that　guard；　with　the　Captain's　permission。　He　would　see　her　settled　in　Ragosa　then　make　his　way　home。
　　He　hadn't　told　them　he　was　in　love　with　her。　They　wouldn't　have　let　him　e　if　they　had　known；　he　was　sure　of　that　much。　He　was　also　ruefully　certain　Jehane　had　realized　the　truth　early　in　their　journey。　He　wasn't　particularly　good　at　hiding　what　he　felt。
　　He　thought　she　was　beautiful；　with　her　dark　hair　and　her　direct；　unexpectedly　blue　gaze。　He　knew　she　was　clever；　and　more　than　that：　trained；　acplished；　calmly　professional。　Amid　the　fires　of　Orvilla　he　had　seen　her　courage；　and　her　anger；　holding　the　two　young　girls　in　her　arms。　She　was　a　woman　entirely　outside　the　range　of　his　life。　She　was　also　a　Kindath；　of　the　Wanderers；　the　god…diminishing　heretics　the　clerics　thundered　against　as　loudly　as　they　cursed　the　Asharites。　Alvar　tried　not　to　let　that　matter；　but　the　truth　was；　it　did：　it　made　her　seem　mysterious；　exotic；　even　a　little　dangerous。
　　She　wasn't；　actually。　She　was　sharp　and　practical　and　direct。　She'd　taken　him　to　her　bed　for　one　single　night；　not　long　after　their　arrival　in　Ragosa。　She　had　done　it　kindly；　without　guile　or　promise。　She　had　almost　certainly　intended　that　such　a　matter…of…fact　physical　liaison　would　cure　him　of　his　youthful　longings。　Alvar；　clever　in　his　own　right；　was　quite　clear　about　that。　She　allowed　him　no　candlelit　illusions　at　all　about　what　a　night　together　meant。　She　felt　kindly　towards　him；　Alvar　knew。　Though　the　journey　had　proved　uneventful；　she'd　been　grateful　for　his　pany；　found　him　reliable　and　trustworthy；　his　energy　diverting。　He　had　e　to　understand；　being　observant　in　his　own　way；　that　she；　too；　was　embarking　on　something　new　and　strange　without　being　sure　of　her　way。
　　He　also　knew　she　did　not　love　him　at　all；　that　beyond　the　physical　act；　the　night's　harmony　of　two　young　bodies　far　from　their　homes；　their　union　made　no　sense。　But　far　from　purging　him　of　love；　that　night　in　her　room　had　set　a　seal；　as　in　heated　wax；　on　his　feelings。
　　In　the　old　stories　the　kitchen　women　used　to　tell　around　the　fire　after　the　evening　meal　on　the　farm；　brave　Horsemen　of　the　god　loved　endangered　maidens　on　first　sight　and　for　life。　It　wasn't　supposed　to　happen　that　way　in　the　fallen；　divided　world　in　which　they　really　lived。　It　had；　for　Alvar　de　Pellino。
　　He　didn't　make　a　great　issue　of　it。　He　loved　Jehane　bet　Ishak；　the　Kindath　physician。　It　was　a　fact　of　existence；　as　much　as　where　the　god's　sun　rose　in　the　morning；　or　the　proper　way　to　parry　a　left…handed　sword　stroke　towards　one's　knees。　Walking　the　crowded　streets　of　Ragosa；　Alvar　felt　much　older　than　he　had　when　he　rode　south　with　Rodrigo　Belmonte　to　collect　the　summer　parias。
　　It　was　autumn　now。　The　breeze　from　the　north　off　Lake　Serrana　was　cool　in　the　morning　and　sometimes　sharply　cold　at　night。　All　the　soldiers　wore　cloaks；　and　two　layers　of　clothing　under　them　if　they　were　on　duty　after　sunset。　Not　long　ago；　at　dawn　after　a　night　on　the　northwestern　wall；　Alvar　had　seen　the　masts　and　spars　of　the　fishing　boats　in　the　harbor　rimed　with　pale　frost　under　the　full　blue　moon。
　　In　the　first　sunlight　of　the　next　morning　the　leaves　of　the　oaks　in　the　eastern　forests　had　gleamed　red　and　gold；　a　dazzle　of　brilliance。　To　the　west；　the　Serrana　mountains　that　guarded　Ragosa　from　Cartada's　armies　and　had　screened　her　from　Silvenes　in　the　days　of　the　Khalifate　had　been　capped　with　snow　on　the　higher　slopes。　The　snow　would　last　until　spring。　The　pass　through　which　he　and　Jehane　and　Velaz　had　e　was　the　only　one　open　all　year。　Friends　had　told　him　these　things　in　the　Jaddite　taverns　of　the　city　or　the　food　stalls　of　the　marketplace。
　　He　had　friends　here　now。　He　hadn't　expected　that；　but　shortly　after　their　arrival　it　had　bee　obvious　that　he　was　far　from　the　only　Jaddite　soldier　in　Ragosa。　Mercenaries　went　where　there　was　money　and　work；　and　Ragosa　offered　both。　For　how　long；　no　one　knew；　but　that　summer　and　fall　the　city　on　Lake　Serrana　was　home　to　an　eclectic　array　of　fighting　men　from　Jalona　and　Valledo；　and　further　afield：　Ferrieres；　Batiara；　Karch；　Waleska。　Blond；　bearded　Karcher　giants　from　the　far　north　mingled…and　frequently　brawled…with　lean；　smooth…shaven；　dagger…wielding　men　from　the　dangerous　cities　of　Batiara。　One　heard　half　a　dozen　languages　in　the　marketplace　of　a　morning。　Alvar's　Asharic　was　increasingly　fluent　now　and　he　could　swear　in　two　Karcher　dialects。
　　Walking　a　little　distance　aside　with　him　on　the　day　they　had　parted；　Ser　Rodrigo　had　told　Alvar　that　he　need　not　hurry　home。　He　gave　him　leave　to　linger　in　Ragosa；　with　orders　to　post　letters　of　report　with　any　tradesmen　heading　towards　Valledo。
　　A　captain　of　King　Badir's　army　had　summoned　Alvar　on　the　third　day　after　their　arrival。　It　was　a　well…run；　highly　disciplined　army；　for　all　its　diversity。　He　had　been　marked　as　soon　as　they　passed　through　the　gates。　The　horse　and　armor　he'd　won　at　Orvilla　were　too　good　for　him　not　to　be　noted。　He　was　closely　interviewed；　enlisted　at　a　salary　and　placed　in　a　pany。　He　was　also；　after　a　few　days；　permitted　to　leave　the　barracks　and　live　with　Jehane　and　Velaz　in　the　Kindath　Quarter；　which　surprised　him。　It　wouldn't　have　happened　in　Esteren。
　　It　was　because　of　Jehane's　position。　She　had　been　immediately　installed　at　court；　newest　of　the　physicians　to　the　king　and　his　notorious　Kindath　chancellor；　Mazur　ben　Avren。　Her　formal　place　in　a　palace　retinue…in　Ragosa；　as　everywhere　else　in　the　world…carried　with　it　certain　perquisites。
　　None　of　which　had　stopped　Alvar　from　being　embroiled　in　three　fights　not　of　his　choosing　during　the　first　fortnight　after　he　left　the　barracks　and　went　to　live　in　their　house。　That　much　was　also　the　same　everywhere：　soldiers　had　their　own　codes；　whatever　royal　courts　might　decree；　and　young　fighting　men　granted　special　privileges　had　to　be　prepared　to　establish　their　right　to　those。
　　Alvar　fought。　Not　to　the　death；　for　that　was　forbidden　in　a　city　that　needed　its　mercenaries；　but　he　wounded　two　men；　and　took　a　cut　on　the　outside　of　his　sword　arm　that　had　Jehane　briefly　worried。　The　sight　of　her　concern　was　worth　the　wound　and　the　scar　that　remained　when　it　healed。　Alvar　expected　wounds　and　scars；　he　was　a　soldier；　such　things　came　with　his　chosen　course　of　life。　He　was　also　here　in　Ragosa　as　a　known　representative　of　Rodrigo　Belmonte's　pany；　and　when　he　fought　it　was　with　a　consciousness　that　he　was　upholding　the　pride　of　the　Captain's　men　and　their　eminence　among　the　panies　of　the　world。　It　was　a　role　he　shouldered　alone；　with　an　anxious　sense　of　responsibility。
　　Until；　at　the　very　end　of　that　same　summer；　Ser　Rodrigo　had　e　himself　through　the　pass　to　Ragosa　on　his　black　horse　with　one　hundred　and　fifty　soldiers　and　a　silk　merchant；　the　banners　of　Belmonte　and　Valledo　flapping　in　the　wind　as　they　rode　up　to　the　walls　along　the　shore　of　the　lake。
　　Things　changed　then。　Things　began　to　change　everywhere。
　　
　　〃By　the　eyeteeth　of　the　holy　god；〃　Lain　Nunez　had　cackled　in　horror　when　Alvar　reported　to　them　that　first　day；　〃will　you　look　at　this！　The　boy's　gone　and　converted　himself！　What　will　I　tell　his　poor　father？〃
　　The　Captain；　scrutinizing　Alvar's　clothing　with　amusement；　had　said　only；　〃I've　had　three　reports。　You　appear　to　have　done　well　by　us。　Tell　me　exactly　how　you　were　wounded　and　what　you　would　do　differently　next　time。〃
　　Alvar；　grinning　for　all　he　was　worth；　a　warm　glow　rising　in　him　as　from　drinking　unmixed　wine；　had　told　him。
　　Now；　some　time　later；　running　through　the　market　under　the　blue　skies　of　a　cri