p&c.thunderhead-第102部分

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　Beiyoodzin　fell　into　another　silence。　He　turned　his　horse's　head　and　they　resumed　their　slow　journey　up　the　canyon；　the　horses　splashing　across　the　stream　at　each　bend。　At　one　turn　they　surprised　a　mule　deer；　which　ceased　drinking　and　raced　away　from　them　along　the　bed　of　the　stream；　sending　up　crystal　cascades　of　water　that　glittered　and　fell　back　through　the　sun…drenched　air。　
　〃Those　two　brothers　rejected　anything　to　do　with　the　Anglo　world　outside。　But　they　also　rejected　the　good　ways　of　the　people。　They　saw　the　evil　city　as　their　own　destiny。　Based　on　the　whispered　stories　of　our　people；　they　eventually　found　the　greatest　secret　of　all…the　hidden　kiva…and　entered　it。　They　would　have　broken　inside　only　once…not　for　its　treasures；　of　course；　but　for　its　lode　of　corpse　powder。　It　would　be　their　own　weapon　of　fear　and　vengeance。　Afterwards；　they　would　have　carefully　resealed　the　kiva；　in　the　proper　manner。〃　He　shook　his　head。　〃They　wanted　to　protect　its　secrets…the　secrets　of　the　entire　city…at　all　costs。　In　all　but　name；　they　had　already　been　transformed　into　eskizzi…witches。　And　with　the　killing　of　their　brother；　the　transformation　was　plete。　In　our　belief；　the　final　requirement　in　being　a　skinwalker　is　to　murder　someone　you　love。〃　
　〃Do　you　think　they　actually　had　supernatural　powers？〃　Skip　asked。　
　Beiyoodzin　smiled。　〃I　hear　the　doubt　in　your　voice。　It　is　true　that　the　forbidden　roots　they　chewed　gave　them　great　strength　and　great　speed；　the　ability　to　absorb　pain　and　bullets　without　feeling。　And　I　know　the　white　people　think　witchcraft　is　a　superstition。〃　He　looked　at　Skip。　〃But　I　have　seen　witches　in　Anglo　society；　too。　They　wear　suits　instead　of　wolfskins。　And　they　carry　briefcases　instead　of　corpse　powder。　As　a　boy；　they　came　and　took　me　to　boarding　school；　where　I　was　beaten　for　speaking　my　own　language。　Later；　I　saw　them　e　among　our　people　with　mining　contracts　and　oil　leases。〃　
　As　they　rounded　another　bend；　the　canyon　gave　way　to　a　small　grove　of　cottonwoods。　Beiyoodzin　halted；　and　motioned　for　them　all　to　dismount。　Turned　loose；　the　horses　wandered　off　to　graze　the　rich　carpet　of　grass　along　the　stream。　Teddy　Bear　leaped　onto　a　large　rock　and　stretched　out；　looking　for　all　the　world　like　a　lion；　keeping　guard　over　his　pride。　Skip　walked　over　to　Nora　and　placed　his　arm　around　her　shoulders。　
　〃How　are　you　doing？〃　he　asked；　giving　her　a　squeeze。　
　〃I'm　okay；〃　she　said。　〃You？〃　
　Skip　looked　around；　took　a　deep　breath。　〃A　little　nervous。　But　actually；　pretty　good。　To　be　honest；　I　don't　remember　feeling　better。〃　
　〃I'll　thank　you　to　take　your　paws　off　my　date；〃　said　Smithback；　ambling　over　and　joining　them。　Together；　they　watched　as　Beiyoodzin　untied　his　medicine　kit　from　the　saddle　strings；　examined　it　briefly；　then　nodded　toward　a　gentle　path　that　led　up　the　side　of　the　hill　to　a　small　rounded　shoulder　of　rock。　Above；　Nora　could　see　the　rockshelter　where　their　father's　skeleton　lay。　
　〃What　a　beautiful　place；〃　Skip　murmured。　
　Beiyoodzin　led　the　way　up　the　path　and　over　the　last　little　hump　of　slickrock。　Nora　paused　at　the　top；　suddenly　reluctant　to　look　inside。　Instead；　she　turned　and　let　her　gaze　fall　over　the　canyon。　The　rains　had　brought　up　a　carpet　of　flowers…Indian　paintbrush；　sego　lilies；　datura；　scarlet　gilia；　desert　lupines。　After　much　discussion；　the　two　children　of　Padraic　Kelly　had　decided　to　leave　the　body　where　it　lay。　It　was　in　the　redrock　country　he　loved　so　well；　overlooking　one　of　the　most　beautiful　and　isolated　canyons　of　the　Escalante。　No　other　gravesite　could　provide　more　dignity；　or　more　peace。　
　She　felt　Skip's　arm　around　her　shoulder　again；　and　she　turned　at　last　to　face　the　shelter。　
　In　the　dim　light　of　the　interior；　she　could　make　out　her　father's　saddle　and　saddlebags　carefully　lined　up　along　the　back　wall　of　the　rockshelter；　the　leather　cracked　and　faded　with　age。　Beside　them　was　the　turquoise　skull；　beautiful　yet　vaguely　sinister；　even　here；　far　from　the　evil　pall　of　the　Rain　Kiva。　Beneath　a　thin　layer　of　sand　lay　her　father's　bones。　In　places　the　wind　had　blown　the　sand　away；　revealing　bits　of　rotten　cloth；　the　dull　ivory　of　bone；　the　curve　of　the　cranium；　she　could　see　that　he　had　died　looking　down　into　the　valley　below。　
　Nora　stared　for　a　long　time。　Nobody　spoke。　Then；　slowly；　she　reached　into　her　pocket。　Her　fingers　closed　over　a　small　notebook：　her　father's　journal；　taken　from　the　body　by　the　witch　she　had　shot　and　restored　to　her　by　Beiyoodzin。　She　opened　it　and　removed　a　faded　envelope　she　had　placed　between　the　pages：　the　letter　that　had　started　it　all。　
　The　letter　had　been　addressed　to　her　mother；　written　just　before　he　had　entered　the　city。　But　the　last　entry　in　Padraic　Kelly's　journal　had　been　addressed　to　his　children；　written　after　his　discovery　of　the　city；　in　this　very　rockshelter　while　he　lay　dying。　And　now；　in　the　presence　of　both　her　father　and　Skip；　Nora　began　to　read　his　last　words。　
　She　stepped　forward；　stopping　at　the　foot　of　the　grave。　The　cross　was　still　there；　two　twisted　pieces　of　cedar　lashed　with　a　rawhide　thong。　She　felt　Smithback's　hand　e　forward　to　grasp　her　own；　and　she　returned　the　pressure　gratefully。　After　the　horror　of　the　last　days　at　Quivira；　and　even　in　his　own　sickness　and　pain；　the　writer　had　been　a　kind；　quiet；　and　steady　presence。　He　had　acpanied　her　to　Peter　Holroyd's　memorial　in　Los　Angeles；　where　she　had　left　his　own　battered　copy　of　Endurance　beside　the　stone　marker　that　stood　in　the　stead　of　a　grave：　his　body　had　never　been　found。　Smithback　had　returned　with　her　for　a　memorial　service　for　Enrique　Aragon　on　Lake　Powell；　when　they　boated　out　to　the　site　where；　beneath　a　thousand　feet　of　water；　Aragon's　beloved　Music　Temple　lay。　
　In　time；　she　knew；　they　would　return　to　Quivira。　A　handpicked　team　from　the　Institute；　armed　with　respirators　and　environmental　suits；　would　make　careful　video　documentaries　of　the　site。　Sloane's　discovery…the　micaceous　pottery　of　transcendent　beauty　and　value…would　be　carefully　studied　and　documented　back　at　the　Institute；　under　the　direction　of　Goddard　himself。　And　perhaps；　in　time；　Smithback　would　even　write　an　account　of　the　expedition…or；　at　least；　the　part　of　the　expedition　that　would　not　bring　unendurable　pain　to　Goddard。　
　She　sighed　deeply。　Quivira　would　wait　for　her。　There　was　no　chance　of　its　location　ever　being　divulged；　or　being　public　knowledge…the　poisonous　dust　would　make　sure　of　that。　Almost　all　those　who　knew　of　its　location…with　the　exception　of　the　Nankoweap…were　now　dead。　Those　who　lived；　she　knew；　would　keep　its　secret。　
　Nora　watched　as　Beiyoodzin　leaned　over　the　skeleton；　untied　the　little　buckskin　bag；　and　bowed　his　head。　Pinching　out　some　yellow　cornmeal　and　pollen；　he　sprinkled　it　on　the　body　and　began　a　soft；　rhythmical　chant；　beautiful　in　its　simple　monotony。　The　others　bowed　their　heads。　
　When　the　chant　was　done；　Beiyoodzin　looked　at　Nora。　His　eyes　were　shining；　his　creased　face　smiling。　〃I　thank　you；〃　he　said；　〃for　letting　me　put　this　to　rest。　I　thank　you　for　myself；　and　for　my　people。〃　
　It　was　Skip's　turn。　He　took　the　letter　from　Nora；　turning　it　over　and　over　in　his　hands。　Then　he　knelt　down；　gently　smoothed　the　sand　away；　and　placed　it　into　the　pocket　of　his　father's　shirt。　He　remained　kneeling　for　a　moment。　Then　he　slowly　stood　up　and　returned　to　Nora's　side。　
　Nora　took　a　deep　breath；　steadied　her　hands。　Then　she　turned　to　the　final　entry　in　her　father's　journal　and　began　to　read。　
　To　my　dearest　and　most　wonderful　children；　Nora　and　Skip；　
　　
　By　the　time　you　read　this；　I　will　be　gone。　I　have　been　stricken　with　a　disease；　which　I　fear　I　contracted　in　the　city　I　discovered：　the　city　of　Quivira。　Although　I　cannot　be　sure　this　will　ever　reach　you；　I　must　believe　in　my　heart　that　it　will。　Because　I　want　to　speak　to　you　through　this　journal　one　last　time。　
　If　it　is　within　your　power；　let　the　great　ruins　of　Quivira　lie　undisturbed　and　unknown。　It　is　a　place　of　evil；　I　know　that　now；　even　from　my　own　brief　exploration。　It　may　well　be　the　cause　of　my　death；　though　I　do　not　understand　why。　Perhaps　some　knowledge　is　better　left　alone；　to　die　and　return　to　the　earth；　just　as　we　do。　
　I　have　just　one　request　to　make　each　of　you。　Skip；　pleas