tw.togreenangeltower2-第85部分

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e　necessary；　Rachel　would　have　called　it。　A　dirty　job；　but　one　as　needs　doing。　But　it　seemed　his　life　was　not　his　to　give。
　　　　　　　He　watched　the　pany　troop　past。　They　circled　around　the　tents　and　vanished；　moving　toward　the　Lesser　Gate　that　led　to　the　outermost　bailey。　Simon　dropped　the　rock　he　had　been　clutching　into　the　mud　and　stood；　trembling。
　　　　　　　A　thought　came　to　him　suddenly；　an　idea　so　wild　and　mad　that　he　frightened　himself。　He　looked　up　at　the　sky；　trying　to　guess　how　much　time　remained　until　dawn。　By　the　chill；　empty　feel　of　the　air；　he　felt　sure　the　sun　was　at　least　a　few　hours　away。
　　　　　　　Who　was　most　likely　to　have　taken　Bright…Nail　from　the　mound？　Pryrates；　of　course。　He　might　not　even　have　told　King　Elias；　if　that　suited　his　purposes。　And　where　would　it　be　if　that　was　true？　Hidden　in　the　priest's　stronghold…in　Hjeldin's　Tower。
　　　　　　　Simon　turned。　The　alchemist's　tower；　unpleasantly　squat　beside　the　pure　sweep　of　Green　Angel；　loomed　over　the　Inner　Bailey　wall。　If　there　were　lights　inside；　they　were　hidden：　the　scarlet　windows　were　dark。　It　looked　deserted…but　so　did　everything　else　at　the　center　of　the　great　keep。　The　whole　of　the　Hayholt's　interior　might　have　been　a　mausoleum；　a　city　of　the　dead。
　　　　　　　Did　he　dare　to　go　inside…or　at　least　try？　He　would　have　to　have　light。　Perhaps　there　were　extra　torches　or　a　hooded　lantern　he　could　use　somewhere　in　Green　Angel　Tower。　It　would　be　a　fearful；　terrible　risk。。。。
　　　　　　　If　he　had　not　seen　Pryrates　leaving　with　his　own　eyes；　if　he　had　not　heard　the　red　priest　talk　of　riding　to　Wentmouth；　Simon　would　not　even　have　thought　of　it：　just　the　idea　of　making　his　way　into　the…ill…omened　tower　when　hairless；　black…eyed　Pryrates　might　be　sitting　inside；　waiting　like　a　spider　at　the　center　of　his　web；　made　his　stomach　heave。　But　the　priest　was　gone；　that　was　undeniable；　and　Simon　knew　he　might　never　have　such　a　chance　again。　What　if　he　found　Bright…Nail？！　He　could　take　it　and　be　gone　from　the　Hayholt　before　Pryrates　even　returned。　That　would　be　a　satisfying　trick　to　play　on　the　red…robed　murderer。　And　wouldn't　it　be　fine　to　ride　into　Prince　Josua's　camp　and　show　them　Bright…Nail　flashing　in　the　sun？　Then　he　would　truly　be　Simon；　Master　of　the　Great　Swords；　wouldn't　he？
　　　　　　　As　he　moved　quickly　and　quietly　across　the　bridge；　he　found　himself　staring　at　the　bailey　wall　before　him。　Something　about　it　had　changed。　It　had　grown　。。。　lighter。
　　　　　　　The　sun　was　ing　up；　or　at　least　as　much　of　the　sun　as　would　appear　on　this　gray　day。　Simon　hurried　a　little。　He　had　been　wrong。
　　　　　　　A　few　more　hours；　eh？　You've　been　lucky。　What　if　you'd　been　rattling　around　outside　the　door　of　Hjeldin's　Tower；　when　the　sun　came　up？　Mooncalf；　still　a　mooncalf。
　　　　　　　Still；　he　was　not　entirely　unrepentant。　Knights　and　heroes　had　to　be　bold；　and　what　he　was　considering　now　was　a　bold　plan　indeed。　He　would　simply　have　to　wait　until　tomorrow　night's　darkness　to　acplish　it。　It　would　be　a　marvelous；　brave　thing　to　do。
　　　　　　　But　even　as　he　hurried　back　toward　his　hiding　hole　in　Green　Angel　Tower；　he　wished　his　friends　were　around　to　talk　him　out　of　it。
　　　　　　　The　sun　had　set　a　few　hours　before。　A　fine　drizzle　was　descending　from　the　night　sky。　Simon　stood　in　Green　Angel　Tower's　doorway　and　prepared　himself　to　step　out。　It　was　not　easy。　He　was　still　feeling　weak　and　hungry；　although　after　sleeping　the　day　away　he　had　found　the　remains　of　someone's　supper；　a　crust　of　bread　and　a　scanty　rind　of　cheese；　on　a　plate　in　an　alcove　off　the　tower's　antechamber。　Both　bread　and　cheese　were　dry；　but　still　seemed　only　hours　old；　not　days　or　weeks；　even　as　he　gobbled　them　down　he　had　wondered　whose　meal　it　had　been。　Did　Barnabas　the　sexton　still　care　for　the　tower　and　its　great　bells？　If　so；　he　was　doing　a　poor　job。
　　　　　　　Thinking　of　Barnabas　had　made　Simon　realize　that　not　once　in　the　time　he　had　returned　had　he　heard　Green　Angel's　bells。　Now；　as　he　stood　in　the　doorway　of　the　tower；　waiting　for　darkness；　the　thought　came　to　him　again。　The　great　echoing　cry　of　the　bronze　bells　had　been　the　heartbeat　of　the　Hayholt　as　he　had　known　it；　an　hourly　reminder　that　things　went　on；　that　time　passed；　that　life　continued。　But　now　they　were　silent。
　　　　　　　Simon　shrugged　and　stepped　out。　He　paused　to　cup　his　hands　beneath　a　stream　of　rainwater　running　down　from　the　roof；　then　drank　thirstily。　He　wiped　his　hands　on　his　breeches　and　stared　at　the　shadow　of　Hjeldin's　Tower　against　the　violet　sky。　There　was　nothing　left　to　do。　There　was　no　reason　to　wait　any　longer。
　　　　　　　Simon　made　his　way　along　the　outer　perimeter　of　the　bailey；　using　the　cover　of　the　buildings　to　keep　himself　hidden　from　any　eyes　that　might　be　watching。　He　had　almost　walked　into　the　arms　of　Pryrates　and　the　soldiers　the　night　before；　despite　the　seeming　emptiness　of　the　keep；　he　would　take　nothing　for　granted。　Once　or　twice　he　heard　wisps　of　conversation　drift　past；　but　he　saw　no　living　people　who　might　have　been　responsible。　A　long；　sobbing　laugh　floated　by。　Simon　shivered。
　　　　　　　As　he　moved　out　around　the　edge　of　one　of　the　out…buildings；　he　thought　he　saw　a　flicker　of　light　in　the　tower's　upper　windows；　a　momentary　gleam　of　red　like　a　coal　that　still　hid　smoldering　life。　He　stopped；　cursing　quietly　to　himself。　Why　should　he　be　so　sure　that　just　because　Pryrates　was　gone；　the　tower　would　be　empty？　Perhaps　the　Norns　lived　there。
　　　　　　　But　perhaps　not。　Surely　even　the　priest　needed　servants　to　look　after　him；　to　sweep　the　floors　and　light　the　lamps；　just　as　Simon　had　once　done　for　Doctor　Morgenes。　If　anyone　moved　inside　the　tower；　it　was　likely　some　terrified　castle…dweller　forced　to　labor　in　the　red　priest's　stronghold。　Perhaps　it　was　Rachel　the　Dragon。　If　so；　Simon　would　rescue　her　as　well　as　Bright…Nail。　Wouldn't　she　be　astonished…he　would　have　to　be　careful　not　to　frighten　her　too　badly。　She　must　have　wondered　where　in　the　world　her　wayward　scullion　had　gone。
　　　　　　　Simon　turned　before　he　reached　the　tower　doors　and　clambered　into　a　patch　of　ivy　growing　along　the　bailey　wall。　Hero　or　not；　he　was　no　fool。　He　would　wait　to　see　if　there　was　any　sign　the　tower　was　occupied。
　　　　　　　He　huddled；　holding　his　knees。　The　bulk　of　the　tower　overhead；　its　blunt　dark　stones；　made　him　unfortable。　It　was　hard　not　to　feel　it　waited　for　him　like　a　giant　feigning　sleep；　anticipating　the　moment　when　Simon　would　e　within　reach。。。
　　　　　　　Time　seemed　to　pass　very　slowly。　When　he　could　stand　the　waiting　no　longer；　he　dragged　himself　out　of　the　ivy；　which　seemed　to　cling　more　strongly　than　it　should。　No　one　had　e　near　the　doorway；　no　one　was　moving　anywhere　about　the　Inner　Bailey。　He　had　seen　no　more　lights　in　the　windows；　nor　had　he　heard　anything　but　the　moaning　of　the　wind　in　the　towertops。　It　was　time。　But　how　to　get　in？　There　was　scarcely　any　chance　he　would　be　able　to　unlock　the　huge　black　doors…someone　as　secretive　as　Pryrates　must　have　bolts　on　his　fortress　gateway　that　could　keep　out　an　army。　No；　it　would　undoubtedly　take　climbing。　The　gatehouse　that　stood　around　and　over　the　front　door　was　probably　his　best　chance。　From　the　top　of　it　he　could　perhaps　find　a　way　up　to　one　of　the　upper　windows。　The　stones　of　the　walls　were　heavy　and　crudely　set：　climbing　holds　should　not　be　too　difficult　to　find。
　　　　　　　He　ducked　into　the　shelter　of　the　gatehouse　and　paused　for　a　moment　to　look　at　the　black　timbers　of　the　front　doors。　They　were　indeed　massive…Simon　guessed　that　even　men　with　axes　would　not　penetrate　them　in　anything　less　than　half　a　day。　Testing；　he　grasped　one　of　the　massive　door　handles　and　pulled。　The　right　side　door　swung　out　silently；　startling　Simon　so　that　he　stumbled　backward；　out　into　the　thin　rain。
　　　　　　　The　doors　were　open…unlocked！　For　a　moment　he　wanted　only　to　run；　certain　it　was　a　trap　set　just　for　him；　but　as　he　stopped；　hands　raised　as　though　to　ward　off　a　blow；　he　realized　that　was　unlikely。　Or　perhaps　there　were　more　certain　protections　inside。。。　？
　　　　　　　Simon　hesitated　a　moment　longer；　his　heart　rattling。
　　　　　　　Don't　he　a　fool。　Either　go　in　or　stay　out。　Don't　stand　around　in　the　middle　of　everything　waiting　to　be　noticed　by　someone。
　　　　　　　He　clenched　his　fists　and　stepped　through；　then　pulled　the　door　shut　behind　him。
　　　　　　　The