tw.togreenangeltower2-第130部分

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　years。〃　He　let　his　head　fall　back　against　the　cavern　wall。　〃Now　the　well　is　dry。　I　have　no　more　to　give。　Nothing。〃
　　　　　　　Miriamele　was　determined　to　have　answers。　〃You　still　have　not　explained　why　you　followed　me；　Cadrach。〃
　　　　　　　The　monk　opened　his　eyes。　〃Because　there　is　nothing　else。　The　world　holds　nothing　else　for　me。〃　He　hesitated；　then　looked　at　Binabik　angrily；　as　though　the　little　man　was　eavesdropping　on　something　he　had　no　right　to　hear。　The　words　came　slowly。　〃Because　。。。　because　you　were　kind　to　me；　Miriamele。　I　had　forgotten　what　it　feels　like。　I　could　not　go　with　you　to　face　the　questions；　the　looks；　the　disgust　of　all　those　others…Duke　Isgrimnur　and　the　rest…but　neither　could　I　let　go　of　that　small　touch　of　life　。。。　life　as　it　once　was。　I　could　not　let　go。〃　He　reached　up　with　both　hands　and　rubbed　at　the　skin　of　his　face；　then　laughed　wretchedly。　〃I　suppose　I　am　not　so　much　a　dead　man　as　I　thought。〃
〃Was　it　you　who　followed　Simon　and　me　in　the　forest？〃
〃Yes；　and　through　Stanshire　and　Falshire　as　well。　It　was　only　when　this　one　joined　you；〃　he　indicated　Binabik；　〃that　I　had　to　fall　farther　behind。　That　wolf　has　a　keen　nose。〃
〃You　were　not　much　help　when　the　Fire　Dancers　caught　us。〃
　　　　　　　Cadrach　only　shuddered。
〃So　you　followed　us　all　the　way　here？〃
〃I　lost　your　track　after　Hasu　Vale。　It　was　pure　luck　I　found　you　again。　If　you　had　not　e　to　Saint　Sutrin's；　where　I　had　found　a　sheltering　roof　courtesy　of　that　madman　Domitis；　I　think　we　would　never　have　met　again。〃　He　laughed　again；　harshly。　〃Think　on　that；　my　lady。　Your　luck　went　bad　when　you　entered　God's　house。〃
〃Enough　of　this。〃　Miriamele　was　losing　patience　with　Cadrach's　self…loathing。　〃You　are　here。　What　do　we　do　now？〃
　　　　　　　Before　the　monk　could　offer　any　suggestion；　Yis…fidri　came　shambling　up。　The　dwarrow　looked　mournfully　at　　Cadrach；　then　turned　to　Miriamele　and　Binabik。　〃This　man　is　right　in　one　thing。　Someone　else　is　now　outside　this　cavern。　The　Hikeda'ya　have　e。〃
　　　　　　　There　was　a　silence　as　the　words　sank　in。
　　　　　　　〃Are　you　certain？〃　Miriamele　held　little　hope　they　were　wrong；　but　the　thought　of　being　hemmed　in　the　cavern　with　the　corpse…faced　Norns　outside　was　dreadful。　The　White　Foxes　had　been　fearsome　enough　as　characters　in　her　uncle's　tales　of　the　fall　of　Naglimund；　but　on　the　hillside　above　Hasu　Vale　she　had　seen　them　for　herself。　She　never　wished　to　see　them　again…but　she　doubted　she　would　be　so　lucky。　Her　panic；　which　had　abated　with　the　surprise　of　Cadrach's　entrance；　now　returned。　She　was　suddenly　short　of　breath。　〃You're　certain　it's　the　Norns；　not　just　some　of　my　father's　soldiers？〃
〃This　man　we　did　not　expect；〃　said　Yis…fidri；　〃but　we　know　what　things　move　through　our　tunnels。　The　door　does　for　now　hold　them　out；　but　soon　that　may　change。〃　
　　　　　　　〃If　these　are　your　tunnels；　you　must　know　a　way　we　can　escape！〃
　　　　　　　The　dwarrow　said　nothing。
〃Perhaps　we　will　after　all　be　using　those　stones　we　gathered；〃　Binabik　said。　〃We　should　give　thought　to　trying　an　escape　before　more　of　our　enemies　arrive。〃　He　turned　to　Yis…fidri。　〃Can　you　tell　how　many　are　being　outside？〃
　　　　　　　The　dwarrow　fluted　what　sounded　like　a　question　to　his　wife。　After　listening　to　her　reply；　he　turned。　〃The　number　of　one　hand's　fingers；　perhaps。　But　that　will　not　be　true　for　long。〃
　　　　　　　〃That　few？〃　Miriamele　sat　up。　〃We　should　fight！　If　your　folk　wilt　help　us；　surely　we　can　defeat　so　few　of　them　and　escape！〃
　　　　　　　Yis…fidri　shrank　back；　plainly　uneasy。　〃I　have　told　you。　We　are　not　strong。　We　do　not　fight。〃
〃Listen　to　what　the　Tinukeda'ya　say。〃　Cadrach's　voice　was　cold。　〃Not　that　it　will　make　much　difference　soon；　but　I　for　one　prefer　to　await　the　end　here　rather　than　be　spitted　on　one　of　the　White　Foxes'　spears。〃
〃But　the　end　is　certain　if　we　wait。　At　least　if　we　try　to　escape；　there　is　a　chance。〃
〃There　is　no　chance　either　way；〃　the　monk　replied。　〃At　least　here；　we　can　make　our　peace　and　die　by　our　own　choice　when　it　suits　us。〃
　　　　　　　〃I　cannot　believe　what　a　coward　you　are！〃　cried　Miriamele。　〃You　heard　Yis…fidri！　A　half…dozen　Norns　at　the　most！　That　is　not　the　end　of　the　world。　We　have　a　chance！〃
Cadrach　turned　to　her。　Sorrow　and　disgust　and　barely…concealed　fury　warred　in　his　expression。　〃It　is　not　the　Norns　that　I　fear；〃　he　said　finally。　〃But　it　is　the　end　of　the　world。〃
Miriamele　caught　something　unusual　in　his　tone；　something　beyond　even　his　ordinary　pessimism。　〃What　are　you　talking　about；　Cadrach？〃
　　　　　　　〃The　end　of　the　world；〃　he　repeated。　He　took　a　deep　breath。　〃Lady；　if　you　and　I　and　this　troll　could　somehow　slaughter　every　Norn　in　the　Hayholt…every　Norn　in　Stormspike；　too…still　it　would　make　no　difference。　It　is　too　late　to　do　anything。　It　was　always　too　late。　The　world；　the　green　fields　of　Osten　Ard；　the　people　of　its　lands。。。　they　are　doomed。　And　I　have　known　it　since　before　I　met　you。〃　He　looked　up　imploringly。　〃Of　course　I　am　bitter；　Miriamele。　Of　course　I　am　almost　mad。　Because　I　know　beyond　doubt　that　there　is　no　hope。〃

　　　　　　　Simon　woke　from　cloudy；　chaotic　dreams　into　utter　darkness。　Someone　was　moaning　nearby。　Every　part　of　his　body　throbbed；　and　he　could　barely　move　his　wrists　and　ankles。　For　long　moments　he　was　certain　he　had　been　captured　and　was　bound　in　some　black　cell；　but　at　last　he　remembered　where　he　was。
〃Guthwulf？〃　he　croaked。　The　moans　continued；　unchanging。
　　　　　　　Simon　rolled　over　onto　his　stomach　and　crawled　toward　the　sounds。　When　his　swollen　fingers　encountered　something；　he　stopped　and　explored　clumsily　until　he　found　the　earl's　shaggy…bearded　face。　The　blind　man　was　blazing　with　fever。
　　　　　　　〃Earl　Guthwulf。　It's　Simon。　You　saved　me　from　the　wheel。〃
〃Their　home　is　burning！〃　Guthwulf　sounded　terrified。　〃They　cannot　run…there　are　strangers　with　black　iron　at　the　gates！〃
　　　　　　　〃Do　you　have　water　here？　Is　there　food？〃
He　felt　the　blind　man　struggle　to　sit　up。　〃Who's　there？　You　can't　take　it！　It　sings　for　me。　For　me！〃　Guthwulf　grabbed　at　something；　and　Simon　felt　a　cold　metal　edge　drag　painfully　along　his　forearm。　He　swore　and　lifted　the　arm　to　his　mouth；　tasting　blood。
Bright…Nail。　It　seemed　impossibly　strange。　This　over…　ridden　blind　man　has　Bright…Nail。
For　a　moment　he　considered　simply　pulling　it　from　Guthwutf's　weakened　grasp。　After　all；　how　could　this　madman's　need　outweigh　that　of　entire　nations？　But　even　more　troubling　than　the　idea　of　stealing　the　sword　from　a　sick　man　who　had　saved　his　life　was　the　fact　that　Simon　was　lost　without　light　somewhere　in　the　tunnels　beneath　the　Hayholt。　Unless　for　some　inprehensible　reason　the　blind　earl　kept　a　torch　or　lantern；　without　Guthwulf's　knowledge　of　this　maze　he　might　wander　forever　in　the　shadows。　What　good　would　Bright…Nail　be　then？
〃Guthwulf；　do　you　have　a　torch？　Flint　and　steel？〃
The　earl　was　murmuring　again。　Nothing　Simon　could　understand　seemed　useful。　He　turned　away　and　began　to　search　the　cavern　by　touch；　wincing　and　groaning　at　the　pain　each　movement　caused。
Guthwulf's　nesting　place　was　small；　scarcely　a　dozen　paces　wide…if　Simon　had　been　on　his　feet　and　pacing…in　either　direction。　He　felt　what　seemed　to　be　moss　growing　in　the　cracks　of　the　stone　beneath　him。　He　broke　some　off　and　smelled　it：　it　did　not　seem　to　be　the　same　plant　that　had　sustained　him　in　Asu'a's　ruined　halls。　He　put　a　little　on　his　tongue；　then　spat　it　out　again。　It　tasted　even　more　foul　than　the　other。　Still；　his　stomach　hurt　so　much　that　he　knew　he　would　be　trying　it　again　soon。
Except　for　the　various　rags　strewn　about　the　uneven　stone　floor；　Guthwulf　seemed　to　have　few　possessions。　Simon　found　a　knife　with　half　its　blade　snapped　off。　When　he　reached　to　tuck　it　into　his　belt；　he　suddenly　realized　he　did　not　have　one；　nor　any　other　clothes。
　　　　　　　Naked　and　lost　in　dark。　Nothing　left　of　Simon　but　Simon。
He　had　been　splashed　by　the　dragon's　blood；　but　afterward；　he　had　still　been　Simon。　He　had　seen　Jao　e…Tinukai'i；　had　fought　in　a　great　battle；　had　been　kissed　by　a　princess…but　he　was　still　the　same　kitchen　boy；　more　or　less。　Now　everything　had　been　taken　from　him；　but　he　still　had　what　he　had　begun　with。
Simon　laughed；　a　dry；　hoarse　sound。　There　was　a　sort　of　freedom　in　having　so　little。　If　he　lived　to　the　next　hour；　it　would　be　a　triumph。