srdonaldson.thepowerthatpreserves-第73部分

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mething　he　should　not　fear。
　　　　When　he　turned　to　reenter　the　cave；　he　had　chosen　at　least　the　first　outlines　of　his　new　road。
　　　　He　did　not　attempt　to　bury　the　woman；　he　had　no　digging　tool　and　no　desire　to　offer　any　injury　to　the　soil　of　the　Forest。　He　wore　her　robe　in　part　to　show　his　respect　for　her；　but　he　could　not　think　of　any　other　gesture　to　make　toward　her。　He　wanted　to　apologize　for　what　he　was　doing…for　what　he　had　done…but　had　no　way　to　make　her　hear　him。　At　last　he　placed　her　on　her　bed；　arranged　her　stiff　limbs　as　best　he　could　to　give　her　an　appearance　of　dignity。　Then　he　found　a　sack　among　her　possessions　and　packed　into　it　all　the　food　he　could　find。
　　　　After　that；　he　drank　the　last　of　her　water　and　left　behind　the　jug　to　save　weight。　With　a　pang　of　regret；　he　also　left　behind　the　pot　of　graveling；　he　knew　he　would　want　its　warmth；　but　did　not　know　how　to　tend　it。　The　knife　which　lay　oddly　in　the　center　of　the　floor　he　did　not　take　because　he　had　had　enough　of　knives。　Remembering　Lena；　he　lightly　kissed　the　woman's　cold；　withered　cheek。　Then　he　shrugged　his　way　out　of　the　cave；　muttering；　as　if　the　word　were　a　talisman　he　had　learned　from　her　sacrifice；　〃Mercy。〃
　　　　He　strode　away　into　the　day　of　his　new　prehension。
　　　　He　did　not　hesitate　over　the　choice　of　directions。　He　knew　from　past　experience　that　the　terrain　of　Morinmoss　sloped　generally　downward　from　northwest　to　southeast；　toward　the　Plains　of　Ra。　He　followed　the　slopes　with　his　sack　over　his　shoulder　and　his　heart　hollow…steady　because　it　was　full　of　lacks；　like　the　heart　of　a　man　who　had　surrendered　himself　to　the　prospect　of　a　colorless　future。
　　　　Before　he　had　covered　two　leagues；　daylight　began　to　fail　in　the　air；　and　night　fell　from　the　clouds　like　rain。　But　Morinmoss　roused　itself　to　light　his　way。　And　after　his　long　rest；　he　did　not　need　sleep。　He　slowed　his　pace　so　that　he　could　move　without　disturbing　the　dark　moss；　and　went　on　while　the　Forest　grew　lambent　and　restless　around　him。　Its　ancient　uneasiness；　its　half…conscious　memory　of　outrage　and　immense　bereavement；　was　not　directed　at　him…the　perennial　mood　of　the　trees　almost　seemed　to　stand　back　as　he　passed；　allowing　him　along　his　way…but　he　felt　it　nonetheless；　heard　it　muttering　through　the　breeze　as　if　Morinmoss　were　breathing　between　clenched　teeth。　His　senses　remained　truncated；　winter…blurred；　as　they　had　been　before　his　crisis　with　Pietten　and　Lena；　but　still　he　could　perceive　the　Forest's　sufferance　of　him。　Morinmoss　was　aware　of　him　and　made　a　special　exertion　of　tolerance　on　his　behalf。
　　　　Then　he　remembered　that　Garroting　Deep　also　had　not　raised　its　hand　against　him。　He　remembered　Caerroil　Wildwood　and　the　Forestal's　unwilling　disciple。　Though　he　knew　himself　suffered；　permitted；　he　murmured　〃Mercy〃　to　the　pale；　shining　trunks　and　strove　to　move　carefully；　avoiding　anything　which　might　give　offense　to　the　trees。
　　　　His　caution　limited　his　progress；　and　when　dawn　came　he　was　still　wending　generally　southeast　within　the　woods。　But　now　he　was　reentering　the　demesne　of　winter。　Cold　snapped　in　the　air；　and　the　trees　were　bleak。　Grass　had　given　way　to　bare　ground。　He　could　see　the　first　thin　skiffs　of　snow　through　the　gloom　ahead　of　him。　And　as　dawn　limped　into　ill　day；　he　began　to　learn　what　a　gift　the　white　robe　was。　Its　lightness　made　it　easy　to　wear；　yet　its　special　fabric　was　warm　and　fortable；　so　that　it　held　out　the　harshness　of　the　wind。　He　considered　it　a　better　gift　than　any　knife　or　staff　or　orcrest…stone；　and　he　kept　it　sashed　gratefully　around　him。
　　　　Once　the　tree　shine　had　subsided　into　daylight；　he　stopped　to　rest　and　eat。　But　he　did　not　need　much　rest；　and　after　a　frugal　meal　he　was　up　and　moving　again。　The　wind　began　to　gust　and　flutter　around　him。　In　less　than　a　league；　he　left　the　last　black　shelter　of　the　Forest；　and　went　out　into　Foul's　uninterrupted　spite。
　　　　The　wilderness　of　snow　and　cold　that　met　his　blunt　senses　seemed　unchanged。　From　the　edges　of　the　Forest；　the　terrain　continued　to　slope　gradually　downward；　through　the　shallow　rumpling　of　old　hills；　until　it　reached　the　dull　river　flowing　miserably　into　the　northeast。　And　across　his　whole　view；　winter　exerted　its　gray　ruination。　The　frozen　ground　slumped　under　the　ceaseless　rasp　of　the　wind　and　the　weight　of　the　snowdrifts　until　it　looked　like　irreparable　disconsolation　or　apathy；　an　abdication　of　loam　and　intended　verdancy。　In　spite　of　his　white　robe　and　his　recovered　strength；　he　felt　the　cut　of　the　cold；　and　he　huddled　into　himself　as　if　the　Land's　burden　were　on　his　shoulders。
　　　　For　a　moment　he　peered　through　the　wind　with　moist　eyes　to　choose　his　direction。　He　did　not　know　where　he　was　in　relation　to　the　shallows　where　he　had　crossed　the　river。　But　he　felt　sure　that　this　river　was　in　fact　the　Roamsedge；　the　northern　boundary　of　the　Plains　of　Ra。　And　the　terrain　off　to　his　left　seemed　vaguely　familiar。　If　his　memory　of　the　Quest　for　the　Staff　of　Law　did　not　delude　him；　he　was　looking　down　at　the　Roamsedge　Ford。
　　　　Leaning　against　the　wind；　limping　barefoot　over　the　brutalized　ground；　he　made　for　the　Ford　as　if　it　were　the　gateway　to　his　altered　purpose。
　　　　But　the　distance　was　greater　than　it　had　appeared　from　the　elevation　of　the　Forest；　and　his　movements　were　hampered　by　wind　and　snow　and　hill　slopes。　Noon　came　before　he　reached　the　last　ridge　west　of　the　Ford。
　　　　When　his　gaze　passed　over　the　top　of　the　ridge　and　down　toward　the　river　crossing；　he　was　startled　to　see　a　man　standing　on　the　bank。
　　　　The　man's　visage　was　hidden　by　the　hood　of　a　Stonedownor　cloak；　but　he　faced　squarely　toward　Covenant　with　his　arms　akimbo　as　if　he　had　been　impatiently　awaiting　the　Unbeliever's　arrival　for　some　time。　Caution　urged　Covenant　to　duck　out　of　sight。　But　almost　at　once　the　man　gestured　brusquely；　barking　in　tones　that　sounded　like　a　distortion　of　a　voice　Covenant　should　have　been　able　to　recognize；　〃e；　Unbeliever！　You　have　no　craft　for　hiding　or　flight。　I　have　watched　your　approach　for　a　league。〃
　　　　Covenant　hesitated；　but　in　his　hollow　surety　he　was　not　afraid。　After　a　moment；　he　shrugged；　and　started　toward　the　Ford。　As　he　moved　down　the　hillside；　he　kept　his　eyes　on　the　waiting　man　and　searched　for　some　clue　to　the　man's　identity。　At　first　he　guessed　that　the　man　represented　a　part　of　his　lost　experience　in　the　Forest　and　the　woman's　cave…a　part　he　might　never　be　able　to　prehend　or　evaluate。　But　then　his　eyes　made　out　the　pattern　woven　into　the　shoulders　of　the　Stonedownor　cloak。　It　was　a　pattern　like　crossed　lightning。
　　　　〃Triock！〃　he　gasped　under　his　breath。　Triock？
　　　　He　ran　over　the　hard　ground；　hurried　up　to　the　man；　caught　him　by　the　shoulders。　〃Triock。〃　An　awkward　thickness　in　his　throat　constricted　his　voice。　〃Triock？　What　are　you　doing　here？　How　did　you　get　here？　What　happened？〃
　　　　As　Covenant　panted　questions　at　him；　the　man　averted　his　face　so　that　the　hood　sheltered　his　features。　His　hands　leaped　to　Covenant's　wrists；　tore　Covenant's　hands　off　his　shoulders　as　if　their　touch　were　noxious　to　him。　With　unmistakable　ire；　he　thrust　Covenant　away　from　him。　But　when　he　spoke；　his　barking　tone　sounded　almost　casual。
　　　　〃Well；　ur…Lord　Covenant；　Unbeliever　and　white　gold　wielder。〃　He　invested　the　titles　with　a　sarcastic　twang。　〃You　have　not　e　far　in　so　many　days。　Have　you　rested　well　in　Morinmoss？〃
　　　　Covenant　stared　and　rubbed　his　wrists；　Triock's　anger　left　a　burning　sensation　in　them；　like　a　residue　of　acid。　The　pain　gave　him　an　instant　of　doubt；　but　he　recognized　Triock's　profile　beyond　the　edge　of　the　hood。　In　his　confusion；　he　could　not　think　of　a　reason　for　the　Stonedownor's　belligerence。　〃What　happened？〃　he　repeated　uncertainly。　〃Did　you　get　in　touch　with　Mhoram？　Did　you　find　that　Unfettered　One？〃
　　　　Triock　kept　his　face　averted。　But　his　fingers　flexed　and　curled　like　claws；　hungry　for　violence。
　　　　Then　a　wave　of　sorrow　effaced　Covenant's　confusion。　〃Did　you　find　Lena？〃
　　　　With　the　same　hoarse　casualness；　Triock　said；　〃I　followed　you　because　I　do　not　trust　your　purpose…or　your　panions。　I　see　that　I　have　not　misjudged。〃
　　　　〃Did　you　find　Lena？〃
　　　　〃Your　vaunted　aim　against　the　Despiser　is　expensive　in　panions　as　well　as　in　time