fs.thefirstbookofswords-第13部分

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　soon　fed　it　into　respectable　size　and　crackling　strength。　Then；　after　he'd　rested　and　warmed　himself　a　little　more；　he　took　his　hunter's　cup　and　gathered　some　snow　from　a　shaded　crevice；　to　melt　and　heat　himself　some　water　for　a　drink。　Now；　if　only　he　had　a　little　food。。。　Mark　cut　that　thought　off；　afraid　the　hunger　pangs　would　start　again。
　　　He　sat　on　the　rocky　ground　with　the　unwrapped　sword　beside　him；　sipping　heated　water。　And　found　himself　staring　at　large　symbols；　markings　so　faint　that　he　hadn't　noticed　them　at　first；　painted　or　somehow　outlined　on　the　rock　of　the　shallow　caves　rear　wall。　Several　of　the　symbols　had　been　partially　obscured　by　the　old　stains　of　smoke。　There　were　in　all　about　a　dozen　of　the　signs；　all　of　them　drawn　with　inhumanly　straight；　geometrical　sides；　and　the　lines　of　one　of　them；　Mark　realized；　formed　the　same　design　that　appeared　on　the　hilt　of　the　sword。　He　took　up　the　sword　again　and　looked　at　it　carefully　to　make　sure。
　　　After　that　he　continued　to　stare　at　the　wall…signs；　with　the　feeling　that　he　was　on　the　verge　of　extracting　some　important　meaning　from　them；　until　he　was　distracted　by　a　sound。　It　was　not　the　wind；　or　his　own　fire；　but　the　deep　chimney…roaring；　louder　than　before；　rising　below　the　never…quite…ceasing　whine　of　wind。　It　was　too　breathlessly　prolonged　to　be　the　voice　of　any　animal　or　human。　The　furnaces　of　Vulcan；　Mark　thought。　The　forge…fires。　Whatever　they　really　were；　they　were　burning　still；　somewhere　near　to　where　he　was　sitting。　And　this　old　wood…fire　place　in　front　of　him　was。。。　that　thought　would　not　plete　itself。
　　　Mark's　sun…shadow　on　the　face　of　the　cliff　before　him　was　reaching　higher；　and　he　knew　that　behind　him　the　sun　was　going　down。　He　thought：　I　won't　live　through　this　night　up　here；　the　cold　if　nothing　else　will　kill　me。　But　in　spite　of　approaching　death　…　or　perhaps　because　of　it　…　he　felt　a　strong　and　growing　conviction　that　he　was　going　to　see　Vulcan　soon。　And　somehow　neither　death　nor　the　gods　were　terrible；　the　shock　of　watching　his　father　and　his　brother　die　still　numbed　Mark's　capacity　for　terror。　Now　he　understood　that　ever　since　he'd　picked　up　the　sword　from　the　village　street　he'd　been　meaning　to　confront　Vulcan　with　it。　To　confront　him；　and。。。　and　maybe　that　would　be　the　end。
　　　Trying　to　gain　strength；　Mark　built　up　his　fire　again；　with　larger　chunks　of　wood。　Then　he　curled　up　in　front　of　it；　as　if　he　could　absorb　its　radiant　energy　like　food。　Again　he　had　the　sword's　cloth　wrapped　round　his　own　body　as　a　blanket。
　　　The　next　time　he　awoke；　he　was　cold　and　stiff；　and　the　world　was　totally　dark　around　him　except　for　a　million　stars　and　the　brightly　winking　embers　of　his　fire。　Slowly　and　painfully　Mark　turned　over　on　his　bed　of　rock；　twisting　his　aching　body　to　get　the　nearlyfrozen　half　of　it　toward　the　fire。　His　face　and　the　backs　of　his　hands　felt　tender；　as　if　they'd　been　almost　scorched　when　the　flames　were　high。　But　they　began　to　freeze　as　soon　as　they　were　turned　away　from　the　remaining　warmth。　Mark　knew　he　ought　to　make　himself　stand　up；　move　his　arms　and　walk；　and　then　build　up　the　fire　again。　He　knew　it；　but　he　couldn't　seem　to　get　himself　in　motion。　Deep　in　the　middle　of　his　body　he　could　feel　a　new　kind　of　shivering；　and　now　he　was　almost　pletely　sure　that　he　was　going　to　die　tonight。　Still　the　fact　had　very　little　importance。　Get　up　and　tend　the　fire；　and　it　will　save　you。
　　　Startled；　Mark　raised　his　head；　croaked　out　a　halfformed　question。　The　words　had　e　to　him　as　if　in　someone　else's　voice；　and　with　the　force　of　a　mand。　He　could　not　recognize　the　voice；　but　it　made　a　powerful　impression。　Now；　once　he'd　moved　his　head；　the　rest　was　possible。　He　sat　up；　rubbing　his　arms　together；　preparing　himself　for　further　effort。　Now　his　arms　were　able　to　move　freely。　And　now　he　forced　himself　to　rise；　swaying　on　stiffened　knees；　but　driving　his　legs；　torso；　everything　into　activity。　Halfparalyzed　with　cold　and　stiffness　still；　he　gathered　more　wood　and　fed　the　flames　when　he　had　blown　them　back　to　life。
　　　Then；　Mark　lay　down　near　the　new　flames；　wrapping　hiself　in　the　blanket　again。　He　rubbed　his　face。　When　he　took　his　hands　down　from　his　eyes；　a　circle　of　tall；　silent　figures　was　standing　around　him　and　the　fire。　They　were　too　tall　to　be　human。　Mark；　too　numb　to　feel　any　great　shock；　looked　at　what　he　could　see　of　the　faces　of　the　gods。　He　wondered　why　he　could　not　recognize　Ardneh；　to　whom　his　mother　prayed　so　much；　among　them。
　　　One　of　the　goddesses　…　Mark　couldn't　be　sure　which　one　she　was　…　demanded　of　him：　〃Why　have　you　brought　that　sword　back　up　here；　mortal？　We　don't　want　it　here。〃
　　　〃I　brought　it　for　my　father's　sake。〃　Mark　answered　without　fear；　without　worrying　over　what　he　ought　to　say。　〃This　sword　maimed　him；　years　ago。　It's　killed　him　now。　It's　killed　my　brother；　too。　It's　driven　me　away　from　home。　It's　done　enough；　I'm　getting　rid　of　it。〃
　　　This　caused　a　stir　and　a　muttering　around　the　circle。　The　faces　of　the　gods；　shadowed　and　hard　for　Mark　to　see；　turned　to　one　another　in　consultation。　And　now　the　voice　of　a　different　deity　chided　Mark：　〃It　was　time　enough；　in　any　case；　for　you　to　be　leaving　home。　Do　you　want　to　be　a　mill…hand　and　a　rabbit…hunter　all　your　life？〃
　　　〃Yes；〃　said　Mark　immediately。　But　even　as　he　gave　the　answer；　he　wondered　if　it　were　really　true。
　　　Another　god…voice　argued　at　him：　〃The　sword　you　have　there　has　done　hardly　anything　as　yet；　as　measured　by　its　capabilities。　And　anyway；　who　are　you　to　judge　such　things？〃
　　　Another　voice　chimed　in：　〃Precisely。　That　sword　was　given　to　Jord　the　smith；　later　Jord　the　miller；　until　you；　mortal；　or　your　brother　had　it　from　him。　It's　yours　now。　But　you　can't　just　bring　it　back　here　and　be　rid　of　it　that　way。　Oh；　no。　Even　leaving　aside　the　question　of　good　manners；　we。。。〃
　　　And　another：　〃。。。cant　just　take　it　back；　now　that　it's　been　used。　You　can't　bring　a　used　gift　back。〃
　　　〃Gift？〃　That　word　brought　Mark　almost　to　midday　wakefulness。　It　came　near　making　him　jump　to　his　feet。　〃'You　say　a　gift？　When　you　took　my　father's　arm　in　payment　for　it？〃
　　　An　arm；　long　as　a　tree…limb；　pointed。　〃This　one　here　is　responsible　for　taking　the　arm。　We　didn't　tell　him　to　do　that。〃　And　the　towering　figure　standing　beside　Vulcan　（Mark　hadn't　recognized　Vulcan　till　the　instant　he　was　pointed　out）　clapped　the　Smith　on　the　back。　It　was　a　great　rude　slap　that　made　Vulcan　stagger　on　his　game　leg　and　snarl。　Then　the　speaker；　his　own　identity　still　obscure；　went　on：　〃Do　you　suppose；　young　mortal；　that　we　went　to　all　the　trouble　of　having　Clubfoot　here　make　the　swords；　make　all　twelve　of　them　for　our　game；　never　to　see　them　properly　used？　They　were　a　lot　of　trouble　to　have　made。〃
　　　For　a　game。。。　a　game？　In　outrage　Mark　cried　out：　〃I　think　I'm　dreaming　all　of　you！〃
　　　None　of　the　gods　or　goddesses　in　the　circle　thought　that　was　worth　an　answer。
　　　Mark　cried　again：　〃What　are　you　going　to　do　about　the　sword？　If　I　refuse　to　keep　it？〃
　　　〃None　of　your　business；〃　said　one　curt　voice。
　　　〃I　suppose　we'd　give　it　to　someone　else。〃
　　　〃And　anyway；　don't　speak　in　that　tone　of　voice　to　gods。。。〃
　　　〃Why　shouldn't　I　speak　any　way　I　want　to；　I'm　dreaming　you　anyway！　And　it　is　my　business　what。。。〃
　　　〃Do　you　never　dream　of　real　persons；　real　things？〃
　　　Smoke　from　the　fire　blew　into　Mark's　face。　He　choked；　and　had　to　close　his　eyes。　When　he　opened　them　again　the　circle　of　tall　beings　was　still　there；　surrounding　him。
　　　〃And；　anyway；　if　we　gods　wish　to　play　a　game；　who　are　you；　mortal；　to　object？〃　That　got　a　general　murmur　of　approval。
　　　Mark　was　still　outraged；　but　his　energy　was　failing。　His　muscles　seemed　to　be　relaxing　of　themselves。　He　lay　weakly　back　on　rock　half…warmed　by　fire。　Despite　all　he　could　do；　his　eyelids　were　sagging　shut　in　utter　weariness。　He　whispered：　〃A　game。。。　？〃
　　　A　female　voice；　that　of　a　goddess　who　had　not　spoken　until　now；　argued　softly：　〃I　say　that　this　Mark；　this　stubborn　son　of　a　stubborn　miller；　deserves　to　die　tonight　for　what　he's　done；　for　the　disrespect　he's　shown；　the　irresponsible　interference。〃
　　　〃A　miller's　son？　A　miller's　son；　you　say？〃　That；　for　some　reason；