df.therunelords-第30部分

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　Perhaps　we　are　both　more　pragmatic　than　we　want　to　believe；　she　wondered。
　〃Goodbye；　my　lord；〃　she　whispered　to　Gaborn's　retreating　form；　and　added　an　old　blessing　for　wayfarers。　〃May　the　Glories　guide　your　every　step。
　She　turned　back　to　look　down　on　Lord　Raj　Ahten；　grinning　and　waving　to　his　new　subjects。　His　dappled　gray　stallion　strode　proudly　through　the　cobbled　streets；　and　the　peasants　parted　for　him　easily；　their　cheers　being　steadily　more　deafening。　He'd　already　made　it　into　the　second　tier　of　the　city；　past　the　Market　Gate。　He　spurred　his　way　up　through　the　streets；　and　for　a　moment　was　hidden　from　Iome's　view。
　Suddenly　Chemoise　stood　at　Iome's　elbow。　Iome　swallowed　hard；　wondering　what　Raj　Ahten　would　do　to　her。　Would　she　be　put　to　death？　Be　tortured？　Disgraced？
　Or　would　he　leave　her　some　position；　let　her　father　reign　as　a　regent？　It　seemed　possible。
　One　could　only　hope。
　Down　below；　Raj　Ahten　suddenly　rounded　a　corner　and　was　now　only　two　hundred　yards　away。
　She　could　see　his　face　beneath　the　sweeping　white　wings　of　his　helmthe　clear　skin；　glossy　black　hair；　the　impassive　dark　eyes。　Handsome；　handsome。　As　perfectly　formed　as　if　he　were　sculpted　by　love　or　goodness。
　He　looked　up　at　Iome。　Because　she　was　beautiful　as　only　a　princess　of　the　Runelords　could　be；　Iome　was　growing　accustomed　to　the　occasional　rapacious　stares　of　men。　She　knew　how　sorely　her　appearance　could　arouse　a　man。
　Yet　of　all　the　predatory　gazes　she'd　ever　been　granted；　nothing　pared　to　what　she　saw　laid　bare　in　Raj　Ahten's　eyes。
　　
　Chapter　9
　THE　WIZARD'S　GARDEN
　　
　Gaborn　nearly　flew　down　the　stairs　of　the　Dedicates'　Tower；　making　his　way　through　the　crowded　courtyard；　past　the　smelly　idiots；　the　cripples。
　Captain　Ault　was　at　his　side；　and　he　said；　〃Young　sir；　please　go　into　the　Dedicates'　kitchens；　and　wait　until　I　send　someone　for　you。　The　sun　will　be　down　in　moments。　We　can　find　a　way　to　get　you　over　a　wall　after　nightfall。〃
　Gaborn　nodded。　〃Thank　you；　Sir　Ault。〃
　He'd　known　for　hours　that　he'd　have　to　make　his　escape　from　Castle　Sylvarresta；　but　hadn't　believed　it　would　happen　so　soon。　He'd　imagined　that　the　castle's　defenders　would　have　put　up　a　great　battle。　The　castle　walls　were　certainly　thick　enough；　high　enough　to　hold　Raj　Ahten's　army　at　bay。
　He'd　wanted　some　sleep。　He'd　had　almost　none　over　the　past　three　days。　In　truth；　he　needed　almost　no　sleep。　As　an　infant；　he'd　been　given　three　endowments　of　stamina；　and　fortunately　two　of　those　who'd　granted　the　endowments　still　lived。　So；　in　the　way　of　those　who　had　great　stamina；　Gaborn　was　able　to　get　his　rest　on　horseback；　to　let　his　mind　rest；　as　he　moved　about　as　if　through　a　waking　dream。　Still；　he　sometimes　wanted　a　nap。
　Food　was　another　matter。　Even　a　Runelord　with　great　stamina　needed　food。　Right　now　Gaborn's　stomach　was　cramping。　Yet　he　had　almost　no　time　to　eat。
　Worse　than　that；　he'd　taken　a　woundnothing　major；　but　an　arrow　had　pierced　his　right　bicep。　His　sword　arm。　He'd　washed　and　bandaged　it；　but　the　thing　throbbed；　burned。
　And　Gaborn　had　no　time　to　take　care　of　any　of　these　needs。　Right　now；　he　needed　a　disguise。
　He'd　killed　one　of　Raj　Ahten's　outriders；　three　of　his　Frowth　giants。　His　arrows　had　taken　half　a　dozen　war　dogs。
　Raj　Ahten's　outriders　would　want　vengeance　on　Gaborn。　He　was　cornered。　He　didn't　feel　certain　that　he　could　escape；　even　if　he　waited　an　hour　for　full　darkness。　Gaborn　had　two　endowments　of　scent；　but　his　keen　sense　of　smell　was　nothing　pared　to　that　of　some　of　Raj　Ahten's　troops：　men　with　noses　more　keen　than　a　hound's。　They　would　track　him。
　Despite　his　show　of　confidence　to　Iome；　Gaborn　felt　terrified。　Still；　he　took　one　thing　at　a　time。　He　smelled　food　cooking　in　the　Dedicates'　kitchens；　hurried　through　a　broad　plank　door。　Its　brass　handle　felt　loose　in　his　hand。
　He　found　himself　not　in　the　kitchen；　but　in　the　wide　entrance　to　the　dining　chamber。　To　the　right　of　the　door；　he　could　see　past　several　heavy　beams　into　kitchens　where　the　cooking　fires　burned　like　a　blast　furnace。　Several　plucked　geese　hung　from　the　rafters；　along　with　cheeses；　strings　of　garlic；　smoked　eels；　and　sausages。　He　could　hear　a　soup　boiling　in　one　of　the　big　kettles　next　to　the　fire。　The　smell　of　tarragon；　basil；　and　rosemary　lay　heavy　in　the　air。　A　worktable　lay　between　him　and　the　kitchens；　and　a　young　blind　girl　was　there；　stacking　boiled　eggs；　turnips；　and　onions　on　a　huge　metal　tray。
　Down　at　her　feet；　a　tawny　cat　toyed　with　a　chewed　and　frightened　mouse。
　Ahead；　the　room　opened　wide　to　the　thick　plank　dining　tables；　black　from　age　and　grime；　benches　running　down　each　side。　Small　oil　lamps　sat　burning　atop　each　table。
　The　bakers　and　chefs　of　Castle　Sylvarresta　were　hard　at　work；　piling　the　tables　with　loaves　of　bread；　bowls　of　fruit；　filling　plates　with　meat。　While　the　rest　of　Sylvarresta's　followers　had　run　to　the　walls　to　gawk　at　the　battle；　the　cooks　here　knew　where　their　duty　lay：　in　caring　for　the　wretches　who　had　given　up　endowments　to　House　Sylvarresta。
　As　in　most　Dedicates'　kitchens；　the　staff　was　posed　mostly　of　those　who　had　given　up　endowments　themselves：　the　ugly　people　who　had　given　up　glamour　served　the　tables　and　ruled　the　kitchens。　The　mutes　and　the　deaf　worked　the　bakery。　The　blind　and　those　who　had　no　sense　of　smell　or　touch　swept　the　plank　floors　and　scoured　the　burnt　kettles。
　Gaborn　immediately　noticed　the　silence　here　in　the　kitchens。　Though　a　dozen　people　bustled　about；　no　one　spoke；　aside　from　a　curt　order　here　and　there。　These　people　were　terrified。
　The　kitchens　offered　a　mixed　palate　of　smells：　the　scents　of　butchered　animals　and　baked　bread　struggled　to　overpower　the　odors　of　moldering　cheese；　spilled　wine；　rancid　grease。　It　was　a　ghastly　bination；　yet　Gaborn　found　himself　salivating。
　He　hurried　into　the　dining　hall。　A　narrow　corridor　behind　it　led　to　the　bakers'　ovens。　Gaborn　smelled　fresh；　yeasty　bread　still　steaming。
　He　grabbed　a　hot　loaf　from　the　table；　earning　a　scowl　from　a　pretty　serving　girl。　Yet　he　took　the　food　as　if　it　were　his；　and　gave　her　a　glance　that　said；　I　own　this。
　The　wench　could　not　withstand　the　unspoken　rebuke；　hurried　away。　She　held　her　arms　in　close；　in　the　careful　way　of　those　who've　given　up　an　endowment　of　touch。　Gaborn　took　a　good　knife；　cut　a　thigh　off　a　goose　that　lay　on　another　plate。　He　thrust　the　dagger　into　the　belt　of　his　tunic；　and　stuffed　as　much　meat　as　he　could　in　his　mouth；　he　uncorked　a　bottle　of　wine　from　the　table；　washed　down　the　goose　meat　as　fast　as　he　could；　surprised　at　the　quality　of　the　wine。
　One　of　the　King's　own　red　hunting　hounds　had　been　lounging　under　the　table。　It　saw　Gaborn　eating；　came　up　and　sat　at　Gaborn's　feet；　eyes　expectant；　casually　sweeping　the　floor　with　its　tail。
　Gaborn　tossed　it　the　meaty　goose　bone；　then　grabbed　another　loaf　of　bread；　began　eating。
　All　this　time；　his　mind　raced。　Though　someone　would　e　to　help　guide　him　from　the　castle；　he　knew　that　it　would　not　be　easy；　and　he　could　not　safely　rely　on　others。　He　considered　various　plans。　Castle　Sylvarresta　had　a　moat；　a　river　flowing　along　its　eastern　wall；　with　a　water　wheel　for　the　grain　mill。
　There　would　be　a　boathouse　by　the　mill；　where　the　royals　could　go　out　for　a　casual　row。　Often；　an　underground　passage　led　down　to　the　boathouse　from　the　castle。
　But　the　boathouse　would　be　well　watched　by　Raj　Ahten's　troops。　The　Wolf　Lord　had　nomen　with　him；　nomen　who　could　see　in　the　dark。　It　wasn't　likely　that　Gaborn　could　make　it　out　of　the　boathouse。
　The　kitchen　staff　might　have　some　sort　of　a　sewer　that　would　connect　to　the　river。　But　that　was　unlikely。　Nothing　ever　went　to　waste　in　the　kitchens。　Bones　were　fed　to　the　King's　dogs。　Vegetable　peels　and　animal　guts　went　to　the　swine。　Hides　went　to　tanners。　Anything　that　was　left　went　to　the　gardens。
　Gaborn　had　to　escape　through　the　river。　He　couldn't　risk　trying　to　go　out　by　land。　The　war　dogs　would　find　him。
　And　he　couldn't　stay；　couldn't　hide　in　the　castle　for　the　night。　He　had　to　leave　before　nightfall。　Once　darkness　fell；　and　the　city　quieted；　Raj　Ahten's　hunters　would　begin　searching　for　him；　out　for　vengeance。
　The　pretty　serving　wench　returned　with　another　bottle　of　wine；　more