tw.togreenangeltower2-第144部分
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the shadow that has been all our consideration； and I am thinking… Kikkasut！ To be saying such words！…that the monk may have spoken rightly。 There may be nothing left for our doing at all。〃
With those words hanging in the air； he turned from her and hastened after the dwarrows。 As though his sudden despair had passed to her like a fever； she felt hopelessness enwrap her。
29
The Hand of the North
The winds howled around Stormspike's summit； but beneath the mountain all was silent。 The Lightless Ones had fallen into a deep slumber。 The corridors of Under…Nakkiga were nearly empty。
Utuk'ku's gloved fingers； slender and brittle as cricket legs； flexed upon the arm of her throne。 She settled her ancient bones against the rock and let her thoughts move through the Breathing Harp； following its twistings and turnings until Stormspike fell away and she became pure mind moving through the black between…spaces。
The angry Dark One was gone from the Harp。 He had moved himself to the place…if it could be called a place…where he could act in concert with her to enact the final step of their centuried scheme； but she could still feel the weight of his hatred and envy； personified in the net of storms that spread across the land above。
In Nabban； where the upstart Imperators had once ruled； snow piled high in the streets； in the great harbor high waves flung the anchored ships against each other； or drove them into the shore where their splintered timbers lay like the bones of giants。 The kilpa； frenzied； struck at everything that moved across the water； and even began to make sluggish forays into the coastal towns。 And deep within the heart of the Sancellan Aedonitis； the Clavean Bell hung silent； immobilized by ice just as the mortals' Mother Church was frozen by fear。
The Wran； although its interior was sheltered from the worst of the storm； nevertheless turned chillingly cold。 The ghants； undeterred as a group； though countless individuals died in the harsh weather； continued to boil out of the swamps and harry the coastal villages。 Those few mortals of Kwanitupul who braved the icy winds to walk outside went only in groups； armed with iron weapons and wind…whipped torches against the ghants who now seemed to be crawling in every shadowy place。 Children were kept inside； and doors and windows were shuttered even during those few hours when the storm abated。
Even Aldheorte Forest slept beneath a blanket of white； but if its ageless trees suffered beneath the freezing hand of the North； they did so in silence。 In the heart of the woods Jao e…Tinukai'i lay empty； misty with cold。
All the mortal lands lay trembling beneath Stormspike's hand。 The storms kept Rimmersgard and the Frostmarch an icy wasteland； and Hernystir suffered only a little less。 Before the Hernystiri could truly reclaim the homes from which they had been driven by Skali of Kaldskryke； they had been forced back into the caves of the Grianspog。 The spirit of the people the Sithi had loved； a spirit which had flamed high for a short time； sank back to a guttering flicker。
The storm hung low over Erkynland。 Black winds bent and broke the trees and piled snow high on the houses； thunder growled like an angry beast up and down the length of the land。 The storm's malevolent heart； as it seemed； full of whirling sleet and jagged lightning； pulsed above Erchester and the Hayholt。
Utuk'ku noted all this with calm satisfaction； but did not pause to savor the terror and hopelessness of the hated mortals。 She had something to do； a task she had awaited since her son Drukhi's pale； cold body had been set before her。 Utuk'ku was old and subtle。 The irony that it was her own great…great…grandchild who had led her to her revenge at last； that he was also a scion of the very family that had destroyed her happiness； was not lost on her。 She almost smiled。
Her thoughts raced on； out along the whispery threads of being until they passed into the farther regions； the places only she of all the living could go。 When she felt the presence of the thing she sought； she reached out for it； praying to forces that had been old in Venyha Do'sae that it would give her what she needed to acplish her final； long…awaited goal。
A flare of joy passed through her。 The power was there； more than enough for her purposes； now all that remained was to master it and make it hers。 The hour was ap… proaching； and Utuk'ku had no need to be patient any longer。
〃My eyes are not good at the best of times；〃 Strangyeard plained。 〃And with this sunless day and the blowing snow； I cannot see anything！ Sangfugol； tell me what is happening； please！〃
〃There's nothing to see； yet。〃 They were perched on the side of one of Swertclif's foothills； looking down on Erchester and the Hayholt。 The tree beneath which the pair huddled and the low wall of stones they had made provided scant protection against the wind。 Despite his hooded cloak and the two blankets he had wrapped around himself； the harper was shivering。 〃Our army is before the walls and the heralds have blown the trumpets。 Isgrimnur or someone must be reading the Writ of Demand。 I still don't see any of the king's soldiers 。。。 no； there are some shapes moving on the battlements。 I had begun to wonder if anyone was inside at all。。。。〃
〃Who？ Who is on the battlements？〃
〃Aedon's mercy； Strangeyeard； I can't tell。 They are shapes； that's all。〃
〃We should be closer；〃 the priest said fretfully。 〃This hillside is too distant in weather like this。〃
The harper darted a glance at him。 〃You must be mad。 I am a musician； you are a librarian。 We are too close as it is…we should have stayed in Nabban。 But here we are； and here we will stay。 Closer； indeed！〃 He blew into his cupped palms。
A faint clamor of horns drifted over the wind。 〃What is it？〃 Strangyeard asked。 〃What is happening？〃
'They have finished the Writ and I suppose they've gotten no answer。 That is just like Josua； to give Elias a chance to surrender honorably when we know already he will do nothing of the sort。〃
〃The prince is 。。。 determined to do the right thing；〃 Strangyeard replied。 〃Goodness； I hope he is well。 It makes me sick to think of him and Camaris wandering lost in those caverns。〃
〃There is that Nabbanman；〃 Sangfugol said excitedly。 〃He does look rather like Josua…from here； anyway。〃 He turned suddenly toward the priest。 〃Did you really suggest I should mimic the prince？〃
〃You look much like him。〃
Sangfugol stared at him with disgust and bitter amusement。 〃Mother of God； Strangyeard； do me no favors。〃 He huddled deeper into his blankets。 〃Imagine me riding around waving a sword。 Ransomer save us all。〃
〃But we all must do what we can。〃
〃Yes…and what I can do is play my harp； or my lute； and sing。 And if we win； I will most assuredly do that。 And if we don't…well； 1 may do that anyway if I live； but it won't be here。 But what I cannot do is ride and fight and convince people that I am Josua。〃
They were silent for a time； listening to the wind。
〃If we lose； I fear there will be nowhere else to run to； Sangfugol。〃
〃Perhaps。〃 The harper sat unspeaking a while longer； then said： 〃Finally！〃
〃What？ Is something happening？〃
〃They are bringing forward the battering ram…save me； but it is a frightening thing。 It has a great iron head on it that looks like a real ram； with curling horns and all。 But it's so big！ Even with all those men； it is a miracle they can push it along。〃 He took a sharp breath。 〃The king's men are firing arrows from the walls！ There； someone is down。 More than one。 But the ram is still going forward。〃
〃May God keep them safe；〃 Strangyeard said quietly。 〃It is so cold up here； Sangfugol。〃
〃How can anyone shoot an arrow in this wind； let alone hit anything？ Ah！ Someone has fallen from the wall。 That's one of theirs gone； in any case。〃 The harper's voice rose in excitment。 〃It is hard to see what is happening； but our men are close to the walls now。 There； someone has put up a ladder。 There are soldiers swarming up it。〃 A moment later he made a noise of surprise and horror。
〃What do you see？〃 Strangyeard
