df.therunelords-第9部分

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placidly　in　the　shadows。　No　wind　stirred　the　air。
　The　grass　here　grew　lush。　A　hoary　oak　had　once　spread　its　branches　over　the　river；　but　lightning　had　blasted　it；　and　the　sun　had　bleached　it　white　as　bone。　Beneath　the　oak；　an　ancient　autumn　rose　made　its　bower；　its　trunk　as　thick　as　a　blacksmith's　wrist；　its　old　thorns　as　sharp　as　nails。
　The　rose　climbed　the　oak　some　thirty　feet；　creating　a　natural　bower。　Roses　of　purest　white　hung　above　Chemoise；　like　enormous　stars　in　a　dark…green　sky。
　Chemoise　took　a　place　on　the　grass　beneath　the　rose　bower。　The　lush　grass　here　was　bent。　Iome　imagined　that　it　had　been　used　as　a　bed　for　lovers。
　Iome　glanced　over　her　shoulder　at　her　Days。　The　thin　woman　stood　atop　the　copse；　some　forty　feet　back；　arms　folded；　head　bowed。　Listening。
　Then　Chemoise　did　an　odd　thing　in　the　privacy　afforded　by　the　rosebush：　she　lay　on　the　grass　and　hiked　her　skirts　up　a　little　higher　on　her　hips；　and　just　lay；　with　legs　spread。　It　was　a　shocking　pose；　and　Iome　felt　embarrassed　to　see　such　a　thing。　Chemoise　looked　for　all　the　world　as　if　she　waited　for　a　lover　to　take　her。
　On　the　banks　of　the　river；　frogs　chirped。　A　dragonfly　as　blue　as　if　it　had　been　dipped　in　indigo　flew　near　Chemoise's　knee；　hovered；　flew　away。
　The　air　was　so　still；　so　silent。　It　was　so　beautiful；　Iome　imagined　that　Sergeant　Dreys'　spirit　really　might　e。
　All　through　the　walk　here；　Chemoise　had　remained　calm；　but　suddenly　tears　spilled　over　her　long　lashes；　ran　in　rivulets　down　her　face。
　Iome　lay　beside　the　girl；　put　an　arm　over　her　chest；　held　her；　the　way　that　he　must　have。
　〃You've　been　here　before；　with　him？〃　Iome　asked。
　Chemoise　nodded。　〃Many　times。　We　were　supposed　to　meet　here　this　morning。〃　At　first；　Iome　wondered　howhow　did　they　get　outside　the　city　gates　at　night？　But　of　course　Dreys　was　a　sergeant；　in　the　King's　Guard。
　The　notion　was　scandalous。　As　Iome's　Maid　of　Honor；　it　was　Chemoise's　duty　to　see　that　her　mistress　remained　pure　and　undefiled。　When　Iome　became　betrothed　Chemoise　would　have　to　swear　to　Iome's　virtue。
　Chemoise's　lip　began　trembling。　She　whispered　low　so　that　the　Days　could　not　hear：　〃He　filled　me　with　child；　I　think；　six　weeks　ago。〃　At　the　confession；　Chemoise　reached　up　and　bit　her　own　knuckle；　punishing　herself。　By　carrying　this　child；　Chemoise　brought　dishonor　to　Iome。
　Who　would　believe　any　oath　that　Chemoise　swore；　if　one　could　see　that　she　herself　had　been　defiled？
　Iome's　Days　might　know　that　Iome　was　virtuous；　but　the　Days　was　sworn　to　silence　by　her　own　vows。　She　would　never　reveal　any　detail　so　long　as　Iome　lived。　Only　when　Iome　died　would　the　Days　publish　the　chronicles　of　her　life。
　Iome　shook　her　head　in　dismay。　Ten　days。　In　ten　days　Chemoise　was　to　have　been　married；　and　then　no　one　would　have　been　able　to　prove　that　she'd　been　unchaste。　But　with　her　betrothed　dead；　the　whole　city　would　soon　find　out。
　〃We　can　send　you　away；〃　Iome　said。　〃We　can　send　you　to　my　uncle's　estate　in　Welkshire。　We'll　tell　everyone　that　you're　a　newlywed；　newly　widowed。　No　one　will　know。〃
　'No！〃　Chemoise　blurted。　〃It's　not　my　reputation　I　worry　about。　It's　yours！　Who　will　swear　for　you；　when　you　bee　betrothed？　I　won't　be　able　to！〃
　Plenty　of　women　at　court　can　serve　in　that　capacity；〃　Iome　lied。　If　she　sent　Chemoise　away；　it　could　still　tarnish　Iome's　reputation。　Some　people　might　think　that　Iome　had　disposed　of　her　Maid　of　Honor　in　order　to　hide　her　own　indiscretion。
　But　Iome　couldn't　worry　about　such　things　now；　couldn't　consider　her　own　reputation　when　her　friend　hurt　so。
　〃Maybe；　maybe　you　could　marry　soon？〃　Chemoise　said。　At　nearly　seventeen；　Iome　was　certainly　old　enough。　〃The　Prince　of　Internook　wants　you。　And　thenI've　heardKing　Orden　is　bringing　his　son　for　Hostenfest。。。〃
　Iome　drew　a　sharp　breath。　King　Sylvarresta　had　spoken　to　Iome　several　times　during　the　past　winter；　hinting　that　the　time　would　soon　e　for　her　to　marry。　Now　her　father's　oldest　friend　was　finally　bringing　his　son　to　Heredon。　Iome　knew　full　well　what　that　meantand　she　felt　shocked　that　she'd　not　been　forewarned。　〃When　did　you　hear　this？〃
　〃Two　days　ago；〃　Chemoise　said。　〃King　Orden　sent　word。　Your　father　didn't　want　you　to　know。　He。。。didn't　want　you　to　be　in　an　excitable　humor。〃
　Iome　bit　her　lip。　She　had　no　desire　to　bee　allied　with　King　Orden's　spawnwould　never　have　considered　it　for　a　moment。
　But　if　Iome　accepted　Prince　Orden's　proposal；　then　Chemoise　could　still　fulfill　her　obligation　as　Maid　of　Honor。　So　long　as　no　one　knew　that　Chemoise　carried　a　child；　then　her　sworn　statement　of　Iome's　fidelity　would　not　be　challenged。
　Iome　bristled　at　the　thought。　It　seemed　unfair。　She　wouldn't　consent　to　a　hasty　marriage　just　to　save　her　reputation。
　As　the　anger　flared　in　her；　Iome　stood。　〃e　on；〃　she　said。　〃We're　going　to　see　my　father。〃
　〃Why？〃　Chemoise　asked。
　〃We'll　make　this　Indhopalese　assassin　pay　for　his　murder！〃　Iome　hadn't　realized　what　she　intended　to　do。　But　she　was　angry　now；　angry　with　her　father　for　not　telling　her　about　the　impending　proposal；　angry　with　Chemoise　for　her　embarrassing　lack　of　scruples；　angry　that　Raj　Ahten's　assassins　could　murder　Heredon's　guardsand　that　the　city's　merchants　would　then　beg　their　king　for　clemency。
　Well；　Iome　could　do　something　about　this　mess。
　Chemoise　looked　up。　〃Please；　I　need　to　stay　here。〃
　Then　Iome　understood。　An　old　wives'　tale　said　that　if　a　man　died　while　his　lover　carried　his　child；　the　woman　could　capture　her　lover's　spirit　in　the　unformed　child；　so　that　he　would　be　born　again。　Chemoise　only　needed　to　be　present　at　sunset　in　the　place　where　she'd　first　conceived；　so　that　the　father's　ghost　might　find　her。
　Iome　couldn't　believe　Chemoise　would　put　credence　in　that　old　fable；　yet　she　dared　not　deny　the　girl　such　a　boon。　Letting　her　sleep　under　the　rose　bower　could　do　no　harm；　would　only　cause　Chemoise　to　love　her　babe　more　fiercely。
　〃I'll　see　that　you　e　back　before　sunset；〃　Iome　said。　〃And　you　can　stay　an　hour　after。　If　Dreys　can　e　to　you；　he'll　do　so　then。　But　for　now；　I　must　speak　to　the　King。〃
　Before　speaking　to　the　King；　Iome　took　her　Maid　of　Honor　to　look　upon　Dreys'　murderer；　while　the　silent　but　omnipresent　Days　followed　at　Iome's　heel。
　They　found　the　spice　merchant　chained　in　the　dungeon　beneath　the　Soldiers'　Keep；　the　sole　occupant　of　that　dreadful　place。　Iron　shackles　and　cages　hung　from　the　stone　walls；　and　the　whole　dungeon　carried　the　scent　of　ancient　death。　Huge　beetles　scurried　about。　In　one　far　corner　of　the　dungeon　was　a　great　hole；　the　oubliette；　where　prisoners　could　be　kept。　The　sides　of　the　hole　were　stained　from　urine　and　feces；　for　those　condemned　to　that　awful　hole　lived　in　the　muck　that　guards　threw　down　from　above。
　Dreys'　murderer　was　chained　hand　and　foot　to　a　post。　He　was　a　young　man；　perhaps　twenty…two。
　His　eyes　were　dark；　as　dark　as　Iome's；　but　his　skin　was　more　brown。　He　smelled　strongly　of　anise；　curry；　garlic　and　olive　oil；　as　did　the　rest　his　countrymen。　The　murderer　had　been　stripped　to　nothing　but　a　breechcloth。　Both　his　legs　were　broken。　A　ring　had　been　ripped　from　his　nose。　His　jaw　was　swollen。　Fresh　welts　covered　his　face　and　ribs。　Someone　had　bitten　a　chunk　out　of　his　shoulder。　He'd　live。
　On　his　thin　ribs；　one　could　see　runes　of　power　branded　into　the　flesh；　white　scars　each　about　an　inch　to　the　side。　Five　runes　of　brawn；　three　of　grace；　one　of　stamina；　one　of　wit；　one　of　metabolism；　one　of　hearing；　two　of　sight。
　No　merchant　in　Heredon　wore　so　many　runes　of　power。　This　man　was　a　soldier；　an　assassin。　Iome　felt　certain。
　But　mere　feelings　were　not　proof。　In　the　South；　where　blood　metal　was　mined；　merchants　could　purchase　the　precious　metals　used　to　make　forcibles　more　easily；　then　purchase　endowments　from　the　poor。
　Though　Iome　doubted　that　this　man　was　a　merchant；　his　overabundance　of　endowments　alone　could　not　convict　him。
　Chemoise　stared　deep　into　the　prisoner's　eyes；　then　slapped　his　face；　just　once。
　Afterward；　the　two　young　women　went　to　the　King's　Keep。　King　Sylvarresta　was　in　the　informal　audience　chamber　on　the　first　story。　He　sat　on　a　bench　in　the　corner；　talking　softly　with　Iome's　mother；　a　rather　somber　Chancellor　Rodderman；　and　a　terrified　Guildmast