srdonaldson.thepowerthatpreserves-第58部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


er　battlements　to　look　at　the　siege。
　　　　The　ground　below　them　steamed　and　quivered　like　wounded　flesh；　but　the　malevolence　which　had　stricken　it　was　gone。　Satansfist's　army　lay　prostrate　from　overexertion　in　its　encampments。　The　Giant…Raver　himself　was　nowhere　to　be　seen。
　　　　Over　all　its　walls　from　end　to　end；　Revelstone　erupted　in　the　exultation　of　victory。　Weak；　hoarse；　ragged；　starving　voices　cheered；　wept；　shouted　raucous　defiance　as　if　the　siege　had　been　beaten。　Mhoram　found　his　own　vision　blurred　with　relief。　When　he　turned　to　go　back　into　the　Keep；　he　discovered　Loerya　behind　him；　weeping　happily　and　trying　to　hug　all　three　of　her　daughters　at　once。　At　her　side；　Trevor　crowed；　and　tossed　one　of　the　girls　giggling　into　the　air。
　　　　〃Rest　now；　Mhoram；〃　Loerya　said　through　her　joy。　〃Leave　the　Keep　to　us。　We　know　what　must　be　done。〃
　　　　High　Lord　Mhoram　nodded　his　mute　gratitude　and　went　wearily　away　to　his　bed。
　　　　Yet　even　then　he　did　not　relax　until　he　had　felt　the　Warward　resume　its　defensive　stance…felt　search　parties　hunting　through　the　Keep　for　the　most　blighted　survivors　of　the　assault…felt　order　slowly　reform　the　city　like　a　mammoth　being　struggling　out　of　chaos。　Only　then　did　he　let　himself　flow　with　the　slow　pulse　of　the　gut…rock　and　lose　his　burdens　in　sleep…secure　in　the　confidence　of　stone。
　　　　By　the　time　he　awoke　the　next　morning；　Lord's　Keep　had　been　returned　as　much　as　possible　to　battle…readiness。　Warmark　Quaan　brought　a　tray　of　breakfast　to　him　in　his　private　quarters；　and　reported　the　news　of　the　city　to　him　while　he　ate。
　　　　Thanks　to　its　training；　and　to　exceptional　service　by　some　of　the　Hafts　and　Warhafts；　the　Warward　had　survived　essentially　unscathed。　The　Gravelingases　were　exhausted；　but　well。　The　Lorewardens　and　Hirebrands　had　suffered　only　chance　injuries　from　panic…stricken　friends。　But　the　people　who　had　not　answered　the　Lords'　summons　had　not　fared　so　well。　Search　parties　had　found　several　score　dead；　especially　in　ground…level　apartments　near　the　outer　walls。　Most　of　these　people　had　died　of　thirst；　but　some　were　murdered　by　their　fear…mad　friends　and　neighbors。　And　of　the　hundreds　of　other　survivors；　four…　or　fivescore　appeared　irreparably　insane。
　　　　After　the　search　had　ended；　Lord　Loerya　had　taken　to　the　Healers　all　those　who　were　physically　and　mentally　damaged；　as　well　as　those　who　seemed　to　remember　having　mitted　murder。　She　was　assisting　the　Healers　now。　In　other　ways；　Revelstone　was　swiftly　recovering。　The　Keep　was　intact。
　　　　Mhoram　listened　in　silence；　then　waited　for　the　old　Warmark　to　continue。　But　Quaan　fell　studiously　silent；　and　the　High　Lord　was　forced　to　ask；　〃What　of　the　Raver's　army？〃

　　　　Quaan　spat　in　sudden　vehemence。　〃They　have　not　moved。〃
　　　　It　was　true。　Satansfist's　hordes　had　retreated　to　their　encampment　and　fallen　into　stasis　as　if　the　force　which　animated　them　had　been　withdrawn。
　　　　In　the　days　that　followed；　they　remained　essentially　still。　They　moved　enough　to　perform　the　bare　functions　of　their　camp。　They　received　dark　supply　wains　from　the　south　and　east。　From　time　to　time；　an　indefinite　flicker　of　power　ran　among　them…a　halfhearted　whip　keeping　surly　beasts　under　control。　But　none　of　them　approached　within　hailing　distance　of　the　Keep。　Samadhi　Raver　did　not　show　himself。　Only　the　unbroken　girdle　of　the　siege　showed　that　Lord　Foul　had　not　been　defeated。
　　　　For　five　days…ten…fifteen…the　enemy　lay　like　a　dead　thing　around　Revelstone。　At　first；　some　of　the　more　optimistic　inhabitants　of　the　city　argued　that　the　spirit　of　the　attackers　had　been　broken。　But　Warmark　Quaan　did　not　believe　this；　and　after　one　long　look　from　the　watchtower；　Mhoram　agreed　with　his　old　friend。
　　　　Satansfist　was　simply　waiting　for　Revelstone　to　eat　up　its　supplies；　weaken　itself；　before　he　launched　his　next　assault。
　　　　As　the　days　passed；　High　Lord　Mhoram　lost　his　capacity　to　rest。　He　lay　tense　in　his　chambers　and　listened　to　the　mood　of　the　city　turn　sour。
　　　　Slowly；　day　by　day；　Lord's　Keep　came　to　understand　its　predicament。　The　Giants　who　had　delved　Revelstone　out　of　the　mountain　rock　thousands　of　years　ago；　in　the　age　of　Damelon；　had　made　it　to　be　impregnable；　and　all　its　inhabitants　had　lived　from　birth　with　the　belief　that　this　intention　had　succeeded。　The　walls　were　granite；　and　the　gates；　unbreakable。　In　a　crisis　the　fertile　upland　plateau　could　provide　the　Keep　with　food。　But　the　Despiser's　unforeseen；　unforeseeable　winter　had　laid　the　upland　barren；　crops　and　fruit　could　not　grow；　cattle　or　other　animals　could　not　live；　in　the　brazen　wind。　And　the　storerooms　had　already　supplied　the　city　since　the　natural　onset　of　winter。
　　　　For　the　first　time　in　its　long　history；　Revelstone's　people　saw　that　they　might　starve。
　　　　In　the　initial　days　of　waiting；　the　Lords　began　a　stricter　rationing　of　the　supplies。　They　reduced　each　person's　daily　share　of　food　until　everyone　in　Revelstone　felt　hungry　all　the　time。　They　organized　the　refectories　more　stringently；　so　that　food　would　not　be　wasted。　But　these　measures　were　palpably　inadequate。　The　city　had　many　thousand　inhabitants；　even　on　minimal　rations　they　consumed　large　portions　of　the　stores　every　day。
　　　　Their　earlier　elation　ran　out　of　them　like　water　leaking　into　parched　sand。　The　wait　became　first　stupefying；　then　heavy　and　ominous；　like　pent　thunder；　then　maddening。　And　High　Lord　Mhoram　found　himself　yearning　for　the　next　attack。　He　could　fight　back　against　an　attack。
　　　　Gradually；　the　cold　gray　days　of　suspense　began　to　weaken　the　Keep's　discretion；　its　pragmatic　sense。　Some　of　the　farmers…people　whose　lifework　had　been　taken　from　them　by　the　winter…crept　out　to　the　upland　hills　around　Glimmermere；　sneaking　as　if　they　were　ashamed　to　be　caught　planting　futile　rows　of　seeds　in　the　frozen　earth。
　　　　Lord　Trevor　began　to　neglect　some　of　his　duties。　At　odd　times；　he　forgot　why　he　had　bee　a　Lord；　forgot　the　impulse　which　had　made　him　a　Lord　in　defiance　of　his　lack　of　belief　in　himself；　and　he　shirked　normal　responsibilities　as　if　he　were　inexplicably　afraid　of　failure。　Loerya　his　wife　remained　staunch　in　her　work；　but　she　became　distracted；　almost　furtive；　as　she　moved　through　the　Keep。　She　often　went　hungry　so　that　her　daughters　could　have　more　food。　Whenever　she　saw　the　High　Lord；　she　glared　at　him　with　a　strange　resentment　in　her　eyes。
　　　　Like　Loerya；　Lord　Amatin　grew　slowly　distant。　At　every　free　moment　she　plunged　into　a　feverish　study　of　the　First　and　Second　Wards；　searching　so　hard　for　the　unlocking　of　mysteries　that　when　she　went　back　to　her　public　duties　her　forehead　looked　as　sore　as　if　she　had　been　battering　it　against　her　table。
　　　　Several　Hirebrands　and　Gravelingases　took　to　carrying　fire　with　them　wherever　they　went；　like　men　who　were　going　inprehensibly　blind。　And　on　the　twentieth　day　of　the　waiting；　Warmark　Quaan　abruptly　reversed　all　his　former　decisions；　without　consulting　any　of　the　Lords；　he　sent　a　party　of　scouts　out　of　the　Keep　toward　Satansfist's　camp。　None　of　them　returned。
　　　　Still　the　Raver's　army　lay　like　dormant　chains；　constricting　the　heart　of　Revelstone。
　　　　Quaan　berated　himself　to　the　High　Lord。　〃　I　am　a　fool；〃　he　articulated　severely；　〃an　old　fool。　Replace　me　before　I　am　mad　enough　to　send　the　Warward　itself　out　to　die。〃
　　　　〃Who　can　replace　you？〃　Mhoram　replied　gently。　〃It　is　the　Despiser's　purpose　to　make　mad　all　the　defenders　of　the　Land。〃
　　　　Quaan　looked　around　him　as　if　to　measure　with　his　eyes　the　chill　of　Revelstone's　travail。　〃He　will　succeed。　He　requires　no　weapon　but　patience。〃
　　　　Mhoram　shrugged。　〃Perhaps。　But　I　think　it　is　an　unsure　tactic。　Lord　Foul　cannot　foretell　the　size　of　our　stores…or　the　extent　of　our　determination。〃
　　　　〃Then　why　does　he　wait？〃
　　　　The　High　Lord　did　not　need　to　be　a　seer　to　answer　this　question。　〃Samadhi　Raver　awaits　a　sign…perhaps　from　us…perhaps　from　the　Despiser。〃
　　　　Glowering　at　the　thought；　Quaan　went　back　to　his　duties。　And　Mhoram　returned　to　a　problem　which　had　been　nagging　at　him。　For　the　third　time；　he　went　in　search　of　Trell。
　　　　But　once　again　he　could　not　locate　the　tormented　Gravelingas。　Trell　must　have　secreted　himself　somewhere。　Mhoram　found　no　trace；　felt　no　emanation；　and　none