df.therunelords-第52部分

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　The　Wolf　Lord　began　destroying　the　smaller　families　of　Indhopal　first；　those　most　despised。　He　worked　not　to　take　a　castle　or　to　bankrupt　a　city；　but　to　decimate　entire　family　lines。　In　the　South；　the　code　of　honor　made　it　obligatory　to　avenge　one's　relatives。
　Among　the　horsemen　of　Deyazz；　he'd　attack　a　palace　in　one　city；　then　slay　Dedicate　horses　of　those　who　might　e　to　the　city's　aid；　while　also　taking　children　for　ransom　on　another　front。　With　multiprong　attacks；　he　overwhelmed　his　foes。
　Gaborn　quickly　saw　that　Raj　Ahten　was　a　master　of　illusion。　Always　one　could　see　the　knife　flashing　in　his　right　hand；　while　his　left　kept　busy　elsewhere。　A　small　army　might　lay　siege　to　a　king's　palace　in　one　land　while　five　others　quietly　ripped　at　the　underbelly　of　some　lord　two　kingdoms　away。
　Gaborn　studied　the　patterns　of　the　assaults。　He　grew　terrified。
　Raj　Ahten　had　taken　Castle　Sylvarresta　with　nothing　more　than　his　glamour　and　fewer　than　seven　thousand　knights　and　men…at…arms。　True；　he　brought　Invincibles；　the　heart　of　his　army。　But　it　left　many　questions　unanswered。　Raj　Ahten　had　millions　of　men　who　could　march　at　his　mand。
　Where　were　they？
　Gaborn　wondered　as　he　read。　The　tales　of　Raj　Ahten's　battles　contained　no　hidden　knowledge。　The　Emir　had　laid　bare　Raj　Ahten's　tactics；　but　a　good　spy　could　have　gleaned　as　much　information。
　Gaborn　skimmed　the　Emir's　poetry；　found　it　dull；　mere　doggerel；　each　line　ending　in　a　full　rhyme；　each　line　perfectly　metered。
　Some　poems　were　sonnets　that　enjoined　the　reader　to　seek　for　some　virtue；　in　the　way　of　poems　given　to　young　children　who　are　learning　to　read。　Yet　in　the　sonnets；　the　Emir　did　not　always　rhyme　flawlessly。　Sometimes　he　ended　in　near　rhyme；　and　on　a　swift　reading；　Gaborn　found　that　the　near　rhymes　leapt　out　at　him。
　It　was　not　until　reading　ten　pages　that　Gaborn　stumbled　on　the　first　of　these　near　rhymes；　in　an　odd　poem；　a　form　called　a　sonnet　menor。
　Now　Gaborn　focused　on　that　poem；　for　it　held　Sylvarresta's　name　in　the　title。
　A　Sonnet　for　Sylvarresta
　When　the　wind　strokes　the　desert　in　the　night；　so　that　veils　of　sand　obscure　the　starlight；　we　lie　on　pillows　by　the　fire　to　read　In　books　of　puissant　philosophy。
　Ah；　how　they　clear　the　mind；　focus　the　eye；　Of　mortal　men　who　linger；　love　and　die！
　Gaborn　rearranged　words　in　each　line；　seeing　if　he　could　form　sentences　that　might　convey　some　hidden　meaning。　He　found　nothing。
　He　wondered　at　the　words；　longed　for　the　days　when　men　from　the　North　could　have　traveled　openly　in　Indhopal。　He'd　recently　heard　a　trader　bemoan　those　times　by　saying；　〃Once　there　were　many　good　men　in　Indhopal。　Now　it　seems　they　are　all　deador　perhaps　just　frightened　into　evil。〃
　Five　poems　later；　Gaborn　came　upon　another　poem　in　the　same　form；　yet　its　near　rhymes　came　in　the　first　two　lines。
　Gaborn　thought　back　to　the　near　rhymes　in　the　previous　poem：　〃Read；　philosophy。〃　Now　the　near　rhymes　here：　〃Behind；　spine。〃
　He　thumbed　through　the　next　five　pages　quickly；　found　another　near　rhyme；　with　the　words；　〃Room；　of　dream。〃
　〃Read　philosophy　behind　spine。　Room　of　Dreams；〃　he　muttered。　His　heart　pounded。　The　teachings　that　the　Days　learned　in　the　Room　of　Dreams　were　forbidden　to　Gaborn's　kind。　Surely；　the　Days　would　destroy　this　chronicle　if　they　found　the　Emir　disseminating　such　knowledge　among　Runelords。
　Thus　the　Emir's　warning：　〃Show　it　only　to　those　whom　you　trust。〃
　Gaborn　glanced　at　the　remainder　of　the　book。　The　last　section　was　dedicated　to　philosophical　musingstreatises　on　the　〃Nature　of　a　Goodly　Prince；〃　exhorting　would…be　kings　to　mind　their　manners　and　avoid　slashing　their　father's　throats　while　waiting　for　the　old　men　to　die　off。
　The　cover；　back；　and　spine　of　the　book　were　made　of　stiff　leather；　sewn　to　a　softer　covering　of　lambskin。
　He　glanced　over　his　back。　He'd　been　reading　for　hours。　Rowan　lay　quiet；　breathing　in　the　slow　way　of　those　who　sleep。
　Gaborn　unsheathed　his　knife；　cut　the　threads　that　bound　the　cover　to　the　book。　As　he　did　so；　he　kept　fumbling；　his　hands　shook　badly。
　His　forefathers　had　wondered　at　the　teachings　in　the　House　of　Dreams　for　generations。　A　man　had　died　to　bring　this　to　Sylvarresta。　Probably　without　reason。　A　spy　knew　that　a　book　came　from　Tuulistan；　and　figured　that　it　warned　of　Raj　Ahten's　invasion　plans。　So　the　spy　had　struck　down　an　innocent　man。
　Yet　Gaborn　worriedeven　though　he　suspected　that　it　was　irrationalthat　he；　too；　would　be　killed；　if　the　Days　ever　learned　he'd　read　these　teachings。
　From　inside　the　back　cover　dropped　five　thin　sheets　of　paper　with　a　small　diagram　and　the　following　note：
　My　Dear　Sylvarresta：
　You　remember　at　Binya；　when　we　discussed　those　men　who　revolted　against　me；　for　they　said　I　stole　their　wells　to　water　my　cattle？　I　had　been　taught　that　as　prince；　all　the　land　in　my　realm　belonged　to　me；　as　did　the　people　on　it。　These　things　were　my　birthright；　granted　by　the　Powers。　So　I　planned　to　punish　the　men　for　their　theft。
　But　you　enjoined　me　to　slaughter　my　cattle　instead；　for　you　said　that　every　man　is　lord　of　his　own　land；　and　that　the　lives　of　my　cattle　should　serve　my　people；　not　my　people　the　cattle。　You　said　that　Runelords　could　rule　only　if　our　people　loved　and　served　us。　We　rule　at　their　whim。
　Your　views　seemed　wonderfully　exotic；　but　I　bowed　to　your　wisdom。　I　have　spent　years　since　considering　the　nature　of　what　is　just　and　what　is　unjust。
　We　both　have　heard　forbidden　fragments　of　doctrine　from　the　Room　of　Dreams；　but　recently　I　learned　something　most　secret　from　that　place。　I　give　you　this　diagram　for　your　instruction：
　The　Three　Domains　of　Man
　In　the　Room　of　Dreams；　the　Days　are　taught　that　even　the　ugliest　sparrow　knows　itself　to　be　a　lord　of　the　skies；　and　knows　in　its　heart　that　it　owns　all　it　surveys。
　They　teach　in　the　room　that　every　man　is　the　same。　Every　man　defines　himself　as　a　lord　unto　himself；　and　inherits　a　birthright　of　three　Domains：　the　Visible　Domain　of　things　we　can　see　and　touch；　the　munal　Domain　made　up　of　our　relationships　with　others；　and　the　Invisible　Domainterritories　we　cannot　see；　but　which　we　actively　protect　nonetheless。
　While　some　men　teach　that　good　and　evil　are　defined　by　the　Powers　or　by　wise　kings　in　authority；　or　change　according　to　time　and　circumstance；　the　Days　say　that　the　knowledge　of　good　and　evil　is　born　into　us；　and　that　the　just　laws　of　mankind　are　written　on　our　hearts。　They　teach　that　the　three　domains　are　the　sole　medium　by　which　mankind　defines　good　and　evil。
　If　any　man　violates　our　domain；　if　he　seeks　to　deprive　us　of　our　birthright；　we　call　him　〃evil。〃　If　any　man　seeks　to　take　our　property　or　life；　if　he　attacks　our　family　or　honor　or　munity；　if　he　strives　to　rob　us　of　free　will；　we　can　justly　protect　ourselves。
　On　the　other　hand；　the　Days　define　goodness　as　the　voluntary　enlarging　of　another's　domain。　If　you　give　me　money　or　property；　if　you　bestow　upon　me　honor　or　invite　me　to　be　your　friend；　if　you　give　time　in　my　service；　then　I　define　you　as　good。
　The　teachings　of　the　Daysthey　are　so　different　in　implication　from　what　I　learned　from　my　fathers。　My　father　taught　that　the　Powers　had　ordained　me　to　be　lord　of　my　realm。　As　was　my　right；　I　could　take　any　man's　property；　any　woman's　love；　for　these　things　I　owned。
　Now　I　am　confused。　I　hold　to　what　my　father　taught；　yet　feel　in　my　heart　that　I　am　wrong　to　do　so。
　I　fear；　my　old　friend；　that　we　are　under　judgment　by　the　Days；　and　that　this　diagram　shows　the　rod　by　which　we　are　measured。　I　do　not　know　how　they　intend　to　manipulate　usfor　by　their　own　measure；　they　would　be　evil　to　slay　us。
　Some　books　say　that　the　Glories　paired　the　lords　with　the　Days；　but　in　ancient　times；　the　Days　were　called　〃the　Guardians　of　Dreams。〃　So　I　wonder：　Is　it　possible　that　the　Days　seek　to　manipulate　us　in　some　strange　way？　Do　they　manipulate　our　hopes　and　aspirations？　Most　particularly；　they　write　the　chronicles　of　our　lives；　but　are　the　chronicles　true？　Did　the　heroes　we　aspire　to　emulate　even　exist？　Were　such　men　heroes　even　by　their　own　standards？　Or　do　the　Days　seek　to　manipulate　truth　for　purposes　we　cannot　guess？
　So；　I　have　secretly　written　this　chronicle　and　sent　it　to　you。　I　am　growing　old。　I　will