fs.thefirstbookofswords-第3部分

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g　of　village　women　who　danced　so　slowly　to　the　dirge　went　round　the　biers　and　chair；　their　feet　hitting　the　floor　softly　in　time　to　the　drum；　slow…beaten　back　in　the　rear　of　the　large　hall。
　　　And　outside　the　dancing　ring；　the　other　mournersyes；　there　might　really　be　forty　of　them…mingled　and　socialized；　wept；　joked；　chatted；　prayed；　ate　and　drank；　meditated　or　wailed　in　loss　just　as　their　spirits　moved　them；　each　in　his　or　her　own　cycle　of　behavior。　There　was　a　priest　of　Ardneh；　recognizable　by　his　white　suit；　forting　an　old　woman　who　shrieked　above　all　other　sounds　her　agony　of　grief。　Most　of　the　crowd　looked　like　folk　of　this　village；　as　was　only　natural　the　story　had　said　that　all　the　dead　men　were　from　here；　as　was　Jord。　Mala　could　recognize　some　of　the　faces　in　the　crowd；　from　her　earlier　visits　here　to　meet　Jord　and　his　kinfolk。　But　most　of　the　people　were　unknown　to　her；　and　a　few　of　them　were　dressed　outlandishly；　as　if　they　might　have　e　from　far　away。
　　　Still　standing　near　the　doorway；　looking　over　shoulders　and　between　shifting　bodies；　Mala　breathed　a　prayer　of　thanksgiving　to　Ardneh　for　Jord's　survival；　and　yet；　even　as　she　prayed；　she　felt　a　new　pang　of　inner　anguish。　The　man　she　was　going　to　marry　had　been　changed；　drastically　and　terribly；　before　she　had　ever　had　the　chance　to　know　him　in　his　full　health　and　strength　and　youth。　Then　as　if　trying　to　reject　that　thought　she　tried　to　step　forward；　meaning　to　hurry　to　Jord　at　once。　But　the　thick　press　of　bodies　held　her　back。
　　　At　this　moment　she　had　the　impression　of　an　odd；　momentary　pause　in　the　room…but　it　must　have　been　only　a　seeming　in　her　mind；　she　was　not　used　to　crowds；　and　when　she　looked　at　the　faces　in　the　crowd　around　her　they　were　all　doing　just　what　they　had　been　doing　a　moment　earlier。　But　in　that　moment　of　pause；　the　hide　curtain　draping　the　doorway　behind　Mala　had　been　put　aside　by　someone　else's　hand。　Amid　the　din　of　music　and　grief　and　conversation　there　was　no　way　she　could　have　heard　that　soft　movement；　but　she　did　feel　the　suddenly　augmented　breath　of　the　cold　wind　that　at　night　here　slid　down　from　the　mountains。
　　　And　then　in　the　next　。moment　a　man's　hand　came　to　rest　on　Mala's　arm　…　not　insinuatingly；　not　harshly　either；　but　just　as　if　it　had　a　right　to　be　there；　like　the　hand　of　a　father　or　an　uncle。　But　he　was　none　of　those。　His　face　was　entirely　concealed　by　a　mask；　made　of　what　looked　like　dark；　tooled　leather。　The　mask　surprised　Mala；　but　only　for　a　moment。　A　few　times　in　her　life　before；　at　wakes　and　funerals；　she　had　seen　men　wearing　masks。　The　explanation　was　that　feuds　could　be　exacerbated；　friendships　and　alliances　sometimes　strained；　if　a　man　whose　opinion　mattered　were　seen　to　be　mourning　openly　for　the　enemy　of　a　friend　or　ally；　while　at　the　same　time；　some　conflicting　rule　of　conduct　might　require　him　to　do　so。　A　mask　allowed　its　wearer's　identity　to　be　ignored　by　those　who　did　not　wish　to　know　it；　even　if　it　were　not　really　kept　a　secret。
　　　The　masked　man　was　somewhat　on　the　short　side；　and　well　enough　dressed　in　simple　clothing。　And　Mala　thought　that　he　was　young。　〃What　has　happened；　Mala？〃　His　voice；　close　to　her　ear；　was　almost　a　whisper。
　　　He　knew　her；　so　he　was　most　likely　some　distant　relative　of　Jord's。　Or；　thought　Mala；　noting　the　short　sword　at　his　belt；　he　might　even　be　some　minor　lord　or　knight；　one　who　had　perhaps　at　some　time　been　served　by　Jord　as　smith　or　armorer。
　　　And　the　masked　man　must　have　e　here　from　some　distance；　and　must　have　just　arrived；　not　to　know　already　what　had　happened。　In　the　face　of　such　ignorance　Mala　stumbled　over　words；　not　so　much　trying　to　repeat　the　story　as　she　had　heard　it　as　trying　to　find　some　reasonable　explanation　of　the　horror。　But　an　explanation　was　hard　to　find。
　　　She　tried：　〃They。。。　all　six　of　them。。。　they　were　called　by　a　god　to　go　up　on　the　mountain。　Then。。。　〃
　　　〃Which　god's　call　did　they　follow？〃　The　quiet　voice　was　not　surprised　by　talk　of　gods；　it　wanted　to　nail　down　the　facts。
　　　One　of　the　men　who　had　been　standing　in　front　of　Mala；　unintentionally　blocking　her　path　to　Jord；　turned　round　at　that。　〃They　answered　Vulcan's　call。　No　doubt　about　it；　the　god　chose　them　himself。　I　heard　him　…　so　did　half　the　village　…　more　than　half。　Vulcan　himself　came　down　here　from　the　mountain　in　the　night　and　called　the　six　men　out　by　name。　The　rest　of　us　just　lay　low　in　our　beds；　I　can　tell　you。　Next　day；　when　none　of　the　six　had　e　back　yet；　we　gathered　here　in　the　hall　and　wondered。　The　women　kept　egging　us　on　to　find　out　what　had　happened；　and　eventually　some　of　us　started　climbing。。。　it　wasn't　pretty；　what　we　found　there；　I　can　tell　you。〃
　　　〃And　what；〃　the　masked　man　asked；　〃if　they　had　chosen　not　to　follow　Vulcans　call？〃　The　light　in　the　hall　was　too　uncertain；　the　shadows　too　heavy；　for　Mala　to　be　able　to　tell　if　his　hands　looked　like　those　of　a　worker　or　of　a　man　highborn。　The　hair　emerging　from　his　jacket's　cowl　was　dark；　with　a　hint　of　curl；　giving　no　clue　about　his　station。　Perhaps　it　was　this　very　indeterminateness　in　his　appearance　that　first　raised　in　Mala's　mind　a　suspicion　that　seemed　to　e　out　of　nowhere：　I　wonder　if　this　could　be　the　Duke　himself。　Mala　had　never　actually　seen　the　Duke；　but　like　thousands　of　his　other　subjects　who　had　not　seen　him　either　she　knew；　or　thought　she　knew；　certain　things　about　him。　One　of　the　most　intriguing　of　these　things　was　that　he　was　supposed　to　go　out　in　disguise　from　time　to　time；　adventuring　and　spying　among　his　people。　According　to　other　information；　he　was　still　a　relatively　young　man；　and　it　was　also　said　that　he　was　physically　rather　small。
　　　Jord；　Mala　thought；　might　have　worked　for　the　Duke　at　one　time。　Or　some　of　the　dead　men　on　the　biers　might　have。　That　could　explain　why　the　Duke　had　shown　up　here　tonight。。。　she　told　herself　that　she　was　making　things　up；　but　still。。。　there　were　some　stories　told　about　the　Duke's　cruelty；　on　occasion；　but　then；　Mala　supposed；　such　stories　were　told　about　almost　all　powerful　folk。　Even　if　they　were　true；　she　thought；　they　didn't　preclude　the　possibility　that　Duke　Fraktin　might　sometimes　take　a　benevolent　interest　in　these　poor　outlying　villages　of　his　domain。
　　　The　solid　citizen　who　had　turned　round　to　speak　was　plainly　not　entertaining　any　such　exalted　idea　of　the　masked　man's　identity。　Instead；　he　was　looking　him　over　as　if　not　much　impressed　with　what　he　saw；　small　sword　or　not。　The　citizen　snorted　lightly　at　the　masked　man's　question；　and　shook　his　head。　〃When　a　god　calls；　who's　going　to　stop　and　argue？　If　you　want　to　know　more　about　it；　better　ask　Jord。〃
　　　Jord　had　not　noticed　Mala　yet。　The　brawny；　youngold　man　with　one　arm　and　one　bandaged　stump　still　sat　on　his　chair　where　ritual　had　placed　him；　almost　as　if　he　were　one　of　the　dead　himself。
　　　Mala　heard　the　solid　citizen　saying：　〃His　arm's　still　up　there　on　the　mountain；　but　he　brought　his　pay　for　it　back　with　him。〃　Without　trying　to　understand　what　this　might　mean；　she　pushed　her　way　between　the　intervening　bodies　and　ran　to　Jord。　Inside　the　slow　ring　of　dancers；　Mala　went　down　on　one　knee　before　the　man　she　had　pledged　to　marry；　clutching　at　his　one　hand　and　at　his　knees；　trying　to　explain　how　sorry　she　was　for　what　had　happened　to　him；　and　how　she　had　e　to　him　as　quickly　as　she　could　when　the　news　of　the　horror　reached　her。
　　　At　first　Jord　said　nothing　in　return；　but　only　looked　at　Mala　as　if　from　a　great　distance。　Gradually　more　life　returned　to　his　face　and　in　a　little　while　he　spoke。　Later　Mala　was　never　able　to　remember　exactly　what　either　of　them　said　in　this　first　exchange；　but　afterwards　Jord　could　weep　for　his　friends'　lives　and　his　own　loss；　and　Mala　was　able　to　fort　him。　Meanwhile　the　dancing　and　feverish　festivity　went　on；　punctuated　only　by　outbursts　of　grief。　Looking　back　toward　the　entrance　from　her　place　near　the　center　of　the　hall；　Mala　caught　one　more　glimpse；　between　bodies；　of　the　man　in　the　tooled　leather　mask。
　　　〃All　will　be　well　yet；　lass；〃　Jord　was　able　to　say　at　last。　〃Gods；　but　it's　good　to　have　you　here　to　hug！〃　And　as　Mala　stood　beside　him　he　gripped　her　fiercely　around　the　hips　with　a　huge；　one…armed　blacksmith's　hug。　〃I'm　not　yet　des