tw.togreenangeltower2-第71部分
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thes like the touch of the wind； a hurrying of shadows that made the light in。 the tunnel seem to flicker。 The voices were wailing softly in a language he could not understand。 As they passed around him or through him he felt a sad coldness。 These were memories 。。。 of a sort。 These were lost things； shapes and feelings that had e unstuck from their own time。 He was nothing to them； and they； disturbing as they might be； were really nothing to him。
Unless I bee one of these myself。 He felt bubbles of fear rising within him。 Unless someday some other wandering mooncalf feels a Simon…shadow brushing past him saying 〃Lost； lost； lost 。。。〃
It was a horrible thought。 Long after the flurry of almost…shapes was gone and the voices were silent； it stayed with him。
He had turned three more times； on each occasion choosing the left…hand direction； when at last things began to change。
Simon was considering going back…his last turning had led him into a tunnel that now sloped sharply downward…when his eye was caught by a blotchiness along the walls。 He brought his torch close and saw that the cracks of the stone were full of moss。 Moss； he felt sure； meant water somewhere nearby。 He was so parched that he pulled loose a matted handful and put it in his mouth。 After a few tentative chews he managed to swallow it。 Bile rose in his throat； and for a moment he thought he might be ill。 It was dreadfully bitter； but there was moisture in it。 If he had to； he could eat it and probably stay alive for a while…but he prayed he could find some other alternative。
He was staring at the tiny fronds； trying to decide whether he could stomach a second helping； when he noticed pale marks in the gap where he had pulled loose the first handful。 He squinted and held the torch closer。 It was the remains of some kind of design； that was clear…great curving parallels and eroded shapes that might have been leaves or petals。 Time had worn them away almost pletely； but they seemed to have some of the looping grace of carvings he had seen in Da'ai Chikiza and Sesuad'ra。 Sithi work？ Had he gone so deep so quickly？
Simon looked around at the tunnel itself； at the crude； jagged…faced stones。 He couldn't imagine the Sithi making such a place； even for the most basic of purposes。 But if they had not dug these tunnels； why would there be Sithi carving on the walls？
He shook his head。 Too many questions when the only ones that mattered were； where could he find some water…and which way was out？
Although he began to examine the walls carefully as he walked； his discovery of the moss was not immediately followed by anything more useful。 The tunnel now began to widen； and the next two passageways he chose seemed more artfully constructed； the walls symmetrical； the floor even。 Then； as he explored yet another branching； he put his foot down on nothing。
With a shout of horrified surprise； Simon caught at the entrance of the tunnel。 His torch flew from his hand and tumbled down into the darkness where he had nearly gone himself。 As he watched in fearful anticipation； it struck and then rolled； it stopped at last； flickering 。。。 but did not go out。
Stairs。 His torch was lying on a flight of rough stairs leading downward。 The first half…dozen steps had crumbled or been broken away； leaving nothing behind but a few rough edges。
He did not want to go down。 He wanted to go up。
But stairs！ Maybe there's something real down there…some place that makes sense。 What could be worse than what's already happening？
Nothing。 Everything。
It was a left…hand turning； so he would not be pletely lost if it proved a bad choice。 But it would be much easier to drop down the gap prised by the missing steps…a distance almost twice his height…than to climb back up again if he changed his mind。 Perhaps he should take one of the other paths。。。。
What nonsense are you thinking？ he berated himself。 He would have to go down just to retrieve his torch。
Simon sat； dangling his legs over the stairiess gap； and pulled the strip of dried meat from his pocket。 He broke off a small piece and sucked on it meditatively as he looked down。 The torchlight showed the steps had been chiseled square； but left unfinished： they were made to be useful； nothing else。 Looking at them； there was no way to tell whether they led anywhere。
He chewed and stared。 His mouth filled with saliva as he savored the salty； smoky taste。 It was wonderful to have something solid between his teeth again！
Simon rose； then turned and went back up the corridor； feeling with his hand when the light grew dim； until he found more moss clinging to the wall。 He pulled loose several handfuls； then shoved the sticky mass into his pocket。 He returned to the stairwell and peered down until he felt he had located the best spot to land。 He slid his legs over； then rolled onto his front and let himself down as carefully as he could； gritting his teeth as the stone scraped against his stomach and chest。 When he was almost hanging full length； he let go。
A piece of loose stone； perhaps a fragment of the missing steps； was lying in wait for him like a viper。 He felt one foot touch before the other； then the first foot rolled over at the ankle。 A flash of pain shot through his leg。
Tears in his eyes； Simon lay on the topmost step for a moment； cursing his luck。 He sat up； slid forward until he could reach the fallen torch； then set it down beside him and took off his boot to examine his injured ankle。
He could bend it reasonably well； although each change of position was painful。 He decided that it was not broken…but what could he have done about it if it were？ He pulled off his shirt and tore loose yet another strip； then pulled the ever…shrinking garment back on。 When he had bound the cloth around his ankle and foot as snugly as he could； he pulled the boot back on and tested himself。 He could walk； he decided； but it would hurt。
Walk； then。 What else can you do？
He began his limping descent。
Simon had hoped that the stairs would lead him down to some place more real than the endless； pointless tunnels。 But the more real his surroundings became； the more they also became unreal。
After several score small but painful descents； the stairs ended and Simon hobbled out through a jagged hole into another corridor； a passage quite unlike the tunnels through which he had been traveling。 Moss…festooned and almost black with the dirt of ages； it was nevertheless made of carefully…cut dressed stone； its walls were thick with carvings。 But when he stared at these carvings for more than an instant； those that were just at the corners of his vision seemed to shimmer and move； as though they were not marks in stone at all； but rather some kind of parchment…thin creatures； slender as thread。 The walls and floor seemed somehow unstable； too： when Simon looked away for a moment in his plodding progress； lured by yet another smear of movement at the edge of his eye； or was distracted by the flickering of the torch flame； they appeared to change。 The long straight corridor suddenly had an upward slant； or seemed abruptly narrower。 If he turned away and then looked back； everything was as it had been before。
Nor were these the only tricks this place played on him。 The noises that he had heard before returned； voices and rushing water now joined by a strange； abstract music； all sourceless and ghostly。 Unexpected scents washed over him； too； rushes of sweet flowery air one moment that quickly gave way to dank emptiness once more； only to be supplanted a moment later by the harsh smell of something burning。
It was too much。 Simon wanted to lie down； to go to sleep and wake up with everything stable and unchanging。 Even the monotony of the tunnels above was preferable to this。 He might have been trudging at the bottom of the sea； where the currents and uneven light made everything sway and dance and shimmer。
How long did you think you could walk in the empty earth before you went mad； Mooncalf？
I'm not going mad； he told himself。 I'm just tired。 Tired an
