df.therunelords-第33部分

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　Yet　a　rumor　more　persistent　than　any　other　arose；　and　this　one　Gaborn　believed：　In　the　House　of　Understanding；　some　good　men　whispered　that　despite　the　pleas　of　many　scholars；　Binnesman　simply　would　not　go　to　Mystarria；　not　for　any　prestigious　post。　He　would　not　leave　his　beloved　garden。
　On　seeing　the　exotic　trees；　tasting　the　scents　of　rare　spices　and　honeyed　flowers　on　the　wind；　Gaborn　understood。　Of　course　the　herbalist　could　not　leave　his　garden。　This　was　Binnesman's　life's　work。　This　was　his　masterpiece。
　Binnesman　tapped　Gaborn's　boot　with　his　foot　again。　The　serving　wench　already　had　her　shoes　off。　〃Forgive　me；　Your　Lordship；〃　Binnesman　said；　〃but　you　must　remove　your　shoes。　This　is　not　mon　ground。〃
　In　a　daze；　Gaborn　did　as　ordered；　pulling　off　his　boots。　He　got　up；　wanting　nothing　more　than　to　stroll　through　these　grounds　for　a　day。
　Binnesman　nodded　meaningfully　toward　the　buckets　of　feces。　Gaborn　hefted　his　unsavory　burden；　and　they　were　off；　strolling　across　a　carpet　of　rosemary　and　mint　that　emitted　a　gentle；　cleansing　scent　as　their　feet　bruised　the　leaves。
　Binnesman　led　Gaborn　through　the　meadow；　past　the　deer　that　only　looked　at　the　old　Earth　Warden　longingly。　He　reached　a　particular　rowan　tree；　a　tree　that　was　phenomenally　tall；　a　perfect　cone。　He　studied　it　a　moment；　then　said。　〃This　is　the　place。〃
　He　dug　a　small　hole　in　the　detritus　beneath　the　tree；　motioned　for　Gaborn　to　bring　the　dung。
　When　Gaborn　brought　the　buckets；　Binnesman　emptied　them　into　the　Pit。　Something　clanked。　Among　the　feces　Gaborn　saw　objects　dark　and　metallic。
　With　a　start　he　recognized　Sylvarresta's　forcibles。
　〃e；〃　Binnesman　said；　〃we　can't　let　Raj　Ahten　have　these。〃　He　picked　up　the　forcibies；　placed　them　back　into　the　bucket；　ignoring　the　dung　on　his　hands。　He　walked　fifty　paces　to　the　brook；　where　trout　snapped　at　mosquitoes；　slapping　the　water。
　Binnesman　stepped　into　the　stream　and　rinsed　the　forcibles　one　by　one。　Then　he　placed　them　together　on　the　bank。　Fifty…six　forcibles。　The　sun　had　set　nearly　half　an　hour　ago；　and　the　forcibles　now　seemed　but　dark　shadows　on　the　ground。
　When　Binnesman　finished；　Gaborn　tore　a　strip　of　cloth　from　his　tunic　and　wrapped　the　forcibles　into　a　bundle。
　Gaborn　looked　up；　caught　Binnesman　appraising　him；　squinting　in　the　half…light。　The　herbalist　seemed　lost　in　thought。　His　beefy　jowls　sagged。　He　was　not　a　tall　man；　but　he　was　broad　of　shoulder；　stocky。
　〃Thank　you；〃　Gaborn　said；　〃for　saving　the　forcibles。〃
　Binnesman　did　not　acknowledge　his　words；　merely　studied　him；　as　if　peering　behind　Gaborn's　eyes；　or　as　if　he　sought　to　memorize　Gaborn's　every　feature。
　〃So；〃　Binnesman　said　after　a　long　moment。　〃Who　are　you？〃
　Gaborn　chuckled。　〃Don't　you　know？〃
　〃King　Orden's　son；〃　Binnesman　muttered。　〃But　who　else　are　you？　What　mitments　have　you　made？　A　man　is　defined　by　his　mitments。〃
　A　cold　dread　filled　Gaborn　at　the　way　the　Earth　Warden　said　〃mitments。〃　He　felt　certain　that　Binnesman　was　speaking　of　the　oath　he'd　made　this　night　to　Princess　Sylvarresta。　An　oath　he'd　rather　have　kept　secret。　Or　perhaps　he　spoke　of　the　promise　Gaborn　had　made　to　the　kitchen　wench；　the　promise　to　save　her；　or　even　the　silent　vow　he'd　made　to　Chemoise　and　her　father。　And；　somehow；　he　felt；　these　mitments　might　offend　the　herbalist。　He　glanced　at　the　kitchen　wench；　who　stood　with　hands　folded；　as　if　afraid　to　touch　anything。
　〃I'm　a　Runelord。　An　Oath…Bound　Lord。〃
　〃Hmmm。。。〃　Binnesman　muttered。　〃Good　enough；　I　suppose。　You　serve　something　greater　than　yourself。　And　why　are　you　here？　Why　are　you　in　Castle　Sylvarresta　now；　instead　of　next　week；　when　your　father　was　scheduled　to　arrive？〃
　Gaborn　answered　simply。　〃He　sent　me　ahead。　He　wanted　me　to　see　the　kingdom；　to　fall　in　love　with　its　land；　with　its　people；　as　he　had。〃
　Binnesman　nodded　thoughtfully；　stroking　his　beard。　〃And　how　do　you　like　it？　How　do　you　like　this　land？〃
　Gaborn　wanted　to　say　that　he　admired　it；　that　he　found　the　kingdom　beautiful；　strong　and　almost　flawless；　but　Binnesman　spoke　with　a　tone　in　his　voice；　a　tone　of　such　respect　for　the　word　〃land；〃　that　Gaborn　sensed　they　were　not　speaking　of　the　same　thing。　Yet　perhaps　they　were。　Was　this　garden　not　also　part　of　Heredon？　Were　not　the　exotic　trees；　gathered　from　far　corners　of　the　earth；　part　of　Heredon？　〃I　have　found　it　altogether　admirable。〃
　〃Humph；〃　Binnesman　grunted；　glancing　around　at　the　bushes；　the　trees。　〃This　won't　last　the　night。　The　flameweavers；　you　see。　Theirs　is　a　magic　of　destruction；　mine　a　magic　of　preservation。　They　serve　fire；　and　their　master　will　not　let　them　resume　human　form　unless　they　feed　the　flame。　What　better　food　than　this　garden？〃
　〃What　of　you？　Will　they　kill　you？〃　Gaborn　asked。　
　〃That。。。is　not　in　their　power；〃　Binnesman　said。　〃We　have　reached　a　turning　of　the　seasons。　Soon；　my　robes　will　turn　red。〃
　Gaborn　wondered　if　he　meant　that　literally。　The　old　man's　robes　were　a　deep　green；　the　color　of　leaves　in　high　summer。　Could　they　change　color　of　themselves？　〃You　could　e　with　me；〃　Gaborn　offered。　〃I　could　help　you　escape。〃
　Binnesman　shook　his　head。　〃I've　no　need　to　run。　I　have　some　skill　as　a　physic。　Raj　Ahten　will　want　me　to　serve　him。〃
　〃Will　you？〃
　Binnesman　whispered；　〃I've　made　other　mitments。〃　He　said　the　word　〃mitments〃　with　that　same　odd　inflection　he　used　when　speaking　of　the　land。　〃But　you；　Gaborn　Val　Orden；　must　flee。〃
　At　that　moment；　Gaborn　caught　the　sound　of　a　distant　barking；　the　snarling　and　raucous　baying　of　war　dogs。
　Binnesman's　eyes　flickered。　〃Do　not　fear　them。　The　dogs　cannot　pass　my　barrier。　Those　that　try　will　die。〃
　Binnesman　had　a　certain　sadness　in　his　voice。　It　pained　him　to　kill　the　mastiffs。　He　grunted；　climbed　up　out　of　the　stream；　his　shoulders　sagging　as　if　worried。　To　Gaborn's　surprise；　the　wizard　stooped　in　the　near　total　darkness；　plucked　a　vine　at　the　water's　edge；　and　told　Gaborn；　〃Roll　up　your　right　sleeve；　I　sense　a　festering　wound。〃
　Gaborn　did　as　asked；　and　Binnesman　set　the　leaves　on　the　wound；　held　them　in　place　with　his　hand。　Immediately　the　leaves　began　drawing　out　the　heat　and　pain。　Gaborn　carefully　unrolled　his　sleeve；　letting　his　shirt　help　hold　the　poultice　in　place。
　As　if　making　small　talk；　Binnesman　asked　both　Gabon　and　the　kitchen　maid；　〃How　do　you　feel？　Tired？　Anxious？　Are　you　hungry？〃
　Binnesman　began　strolling　through　the　meadow；　and　as　he　walked；　he　would　stoop　in　the　shadows　and　pluck　a　leaf　here；　a　flower　there。　Gaborn　wondered　how　he　could　find　them　at　all　in　the　darkness；　but　it　was　as　if　the　wizard　had　memorized　their　positions；　knew　exactly　where　each　grew。
　He　rubbed　Gaborn's　feet　with　lemon　thyme　one　moment；　something　spicier　the　next。　He　stopped　to　pick　three　borage　flowers；　their　blue　leaves　glowing　faintly　in　the　darkness；　and　gently　took　each　five…petaled　flower　between　his　fingers；　then　pulled　so　that　the　black　stamens　remained　with　the　petals。　He　told　Gaborn　to　eat　the　honeyed　flower　petals；　and　Gaborn　did；　feeling　a　sudden　rush　of　calmness　take　him；　a　perfect　fearlessness　he'd　never　thought　he　could　experience　under　such　duress。
　The　herbalist　fed　several　more　borage　flowers　to　the　kitchen　wench；　gave　her　some　rosemary　to　help　fight　fatigue。
　Binnesman　then　strolled　to　a　grassy　slope；　reached　down　and　broke　the　stem　of　a　flowering　bush。　〃Eyebright；〃　he　whispered；　taking　the　stem。　A　fragrant　oily　sap　was　dripping　from　it；　and　Binnesman　drew　a　line　over　Gaborn's　brows；　another　high　up　on　his　cheek。
　Suddenly；　the　night　shadows　did　not　seem　so　deep；　and　Gaborn　marveled。　He　had　endowments　of　sight　to　his　credit；　and　could　see　fairly　well　in　the　dark；　but　he'd　never　imagined　anything　like　this：　it　was　as　if　the　herbalist　had　added　another　half…dozen　endowments　in　the　matter　of　a　moment。　Yet　Gaborn　recognized　that　he　was　not　actually　seeing　more　light。　Instead；　it　was　as　if；　when　he　glanced　at　something　that　he　might　have　been　able　to　recognize　after　minutes　of　study　and　squinting　in　the　darkness；　he　felt　no　strain；　yet　instantly　discerned　shapes　and　colors。
　He　looked　off　to　the　woods；　saw　a　dark　shape　therea　man　hiding　among　the　trees。　A　tall　man；　in　full　armor。　Powerful。　If　not　for　the　eye…bright；　he'd　never　have　seen　the　man　at　all。