rj.thepathofdaggers-第128部分

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u're　killing　us；　man！　Stop！〃
　　　　　　　Rand　turned　his　head；　and　one　stunned　look　was　enough。　Lightnings　flashed　all　around　him；　in　every　direction。　A　bolt　stabbed　down　onto　the　reverse　slope；　where　Denharad　and　the　armsmen　were；　the　screams　of　men　and　horses　rose。　Anaiyella　and　Ailil　were　both　afoot；　trying　vainly　to　quiet　mounts　that　reared；　eyes　rolling；　trying　to　rip　reins　free。　Flinn　was　bending　over　someone；　not　far　from　a　dead　horse　with　legs　already　stiff。
　　　　　　　Rand　let　saidin　go。　He　let　it　go；　but　for　moments　it　still　flowed　into　him；　and　lightning　raged。　The　flow　into　him　dwindled；　tailed　off　and　vanished。　Dizziness　swept　through　him　in　its　place。　For　three　more　heartbeats；　two　of　Callandor　shone　where　they　lay　on　the　ground；　and　lightning　fell。　Then；　silence　except　for　the　rising　drum　of　the　rain。　And　the　screams　from　behind　the　hill。
　　　　　　　Slowly　Bashere　climbed　off　of　him；　and　Rand　rose　unaided　on　tottering　legs；　blinking　as　his　sight　returned　to　normal。　The　Saldaean　watched　him　as　he　might　have　a　rabid　lion；　fingering　his　sword　hilt。　Anaiyella　took　one　look　at　Rand　on　his　feet　and　collapsed　in　a　faint；　her　horse　dashed　away；　reins　dangling。　Ailil；　still　fighting　her　rearing　animal；　spared　few　glances　for　Rand。　Rand　let　Callandor　lie　where　it　was　for　the　moment。　He　was　not　sure　he　dared　pick　it　up。　Not　yet。
　　　　　　　Flinn　straightened；　shaking　his　head；　then　stood　silently　as　Rand　went　unsteadily　to　stand　beside　him。　The　rain　fell　on　Jonan　Adley's　sightless　eyes；　bulging　as　if　in　horror。　Jonan　had　been　one　of　the　first。　Those　screams　from　behind　the　hill　seemed　to　slice　through　the　rain。　How　many　more；　Rand　wondered。　Among　the　Defenders？　The　panions？　Among。。。？
　　　　　　　Rain　thick　as　a　blanket　hid　the　hills　where　the　Seanchan　army　lay。　Had　he　hurt　them　at　all；　striking　out　blindly？　Or　were　they　still　waiting　out　there　with　all　their　damane？　Waiting　to　see　how　many　more　of　his　own　he　could　kill　for　them。
　　　　　　　〃Set　whatever　guard　you　think　we　need；〃　Rand　told　Bashere。　His　voice　was　iron。　One　of　the　first。　His　heart　was　iron。　〃When　Gregorin　and　the　others　reach　us；　we'll　Travel　to　where　the　carts　are　waiting　as　fast　as　we　can。〃　Bashere　nodded　without　speaking；　and　turned　away　in　the　rain。
　　　　　　　I've　lost；　Rand　thought　dully。　I'm　the　Dragon　Reborn；　but　for　the　first　time；　I've　lost。
　　　　　　　Suddenly；　Lews　Therin　raged　up　inside　him；　sly　digs　forgotten。　I've　never　been　defeated；　he　snarled。　I　am　the　Lord　of　the　Morning！　No　one　can　defeat　me！
　　　　　　　Rand　sat　in　the　rain；　turning　the　Crown　of　Swords　in　his　hands；　looking　at　Callandor　lying　in　the　mud。　He　let　Lews　Therin　rage。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　Abaldar　Yulan　wept；　grateful　for　the　downpour　that　hid　the　tears　on　his　cheeks。　Someone　would　have　to　give　the　order。　Eventually　someone　would　have　to　apologize　to　the　Empress；　might　she　live　forever；　and　maybe　to　Suroth　sooner。　Those　were　not　why　he　wept；　though；　nor　even　for　a　dead　rade。　Roughly　ripping　a　sleeve　from　his　coat；　he　laid　it　across　Miraj's　staring　eyes　so　the　rain　would　not　fall　in　them。
　　　　　　　〃Send　out　orders　for　retreat；〃　Yulan　ordered；　and　saw　the　men　standing　around　him　jerk。　For　the　second　time　on　these　shores；　the　Ever　Victorious　Army　had　suffered　a　devastating　defeat；　and　Yulan　did　not　think　he　was　the　only　one　who　wept。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　
Chapter　25　
（Female　Silhouettes）　
An　Unwele　Return　
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　Seated　behind　her　gilded　writing　table；　Elaida　fingered　an　age…dark　ivory　carving　of　a　strange　bird　with　a　beak　as　long　as　its　body　and　listened　with　some　amusement　to　the　six　women　standing　on　the　other　side　on　the　table。　Each　a　Sitter　for　her　Ajah；　they　frowned　sideways　at　one　another；　shifted　velvet　slippers　on　the　brightly　patterned　carpet　that　covered　most　of　the　russet　floor　tiles；　twitched　at　vine…worked　shawls　so　the　colored　fringes　danced；　and　generally　looked　and　sounded　like　a　gaggle　of　peevish　serving　girls　wishing　they　had　the　nerve　to　go　for　each　others'　throats　in　front　of　their　mistress。　Frost　coated　the　glassed　casements　fitted　into　the　windows　so　that　it　was　hardly　possible　to　see　the　snow　swirling　outside；　though　sometimes　the　winds　howled　with　an　icy　rage。　Elaida　felt　quite　warm；　and　not　just　for　the　thick　logs　blazing　in　the　white　marble　fireplace。　Whether　these　women　knew　it　or　not　…　well；　Duhara　knew；　certainly；　and　perhaps　the　others　did　…　she　was　their　mistress。　The　elaborate　gold…covered　case　clock　that　Cemaile　had　missioned　ticked　away。　Cemaile's　vanished　dream　would　e　true；　The　Tower　returned　to　its　glory。　And　firmly　in　the　capable　hands　of　Elaida　do　Avriny　a'Roihan。
　　　　　　　〃No　ter'angreal　has　ever　been　found　that　can　'control'　a　woman's　channeling；〃　Velina　was　saying　in　a　voice　cool　and　precise　but　almost　girlishly　high…pitched；　a　voice　at　strong　odds　with　her　eagle's　beak　of　a　nose　and　her　sharp；　tilted　eyes。　She　sat　for　the　White；　and　was　the　very　model　of　a　White　sister；　in　all　but　her　fierce　appearance。　Her　plain；　snowy　dress　seemed　stark　and　cold。　〃Very　few　have　ever　been　found　that　perform　the　same　function。　Therefore；　logically；　if　such　a　ter'angreal　were　found；　or　more　than　one；　improbable　as　that　must　be；　there　could　not　be　sufficient　of　them　to　control　more　than　two　or　three　women　at　most。　It　follows　that　the　reports　of　these　so…called　Seanchan　are　exaggerated　wildly。　If　women　on　'leashes'　exist；　they　cannot　channel。　Plainly　not。　I　do　not　deny　these　people　hold　Ebou　Dar；　and　Amador；　and　perhaps　more；　but　clearly　they　are　but　a　creation　of　Rand　al'Thor；　perhaps　to　frighten　people　into　flocking　to　him。　Like　this　Prophet　of　his。　It　is　simple　logic。〃
　　　　　　　〃I　am　very　glad　you　don't　deny　Amador　and　Ebou　Dar　at　least；　Velina；〃　Shevan　said　drily。　And　she　could　be　very　dry　indeed。　As　tall　as　most　men；　and　bonily　thin　with　it；　the　Brown　Sitter　had　an　angular　face　and　a　long　chin；　not　improved　by　a　cap　of　curls。　With　spidery　fingers　she　rearranged　her　shawl　and　smoothed　skirts　of　dark　golden　silk；　and　her　voice　took　on　pointed　amusement。　〃I'm　unfortable　saying　what　can　and　can't　be。　For　example；　not　long　gone；　everyone　'knew'　only　a　shield　woven　by　a　sister　could　stop　a　woman　channeling。　Then　es　a　simple　herb；　forkroot；　and　anyone　at　all　can　feed　you　a　tea　that　leaves　you　unable　as　a　stone　to　channel　for　hours。　Useful　with　unruly　wilders　or　the　like；　I　suppose；　but　a　nasty　little　surprise　for　those　who　think　they　knew　everything；　eh？　Maybe　next；　someone　will　learn　to　make　ter'angreal　again。〃
　　　　　　　Elaida's　mouth　tightened。　She　did　not　concern　herself　with　impossibilities；　and　if　no　sister　had　managed　to　rediscover　the　making　of　ter'angreal　in　three　thousand　years；　one　never　would　and　that　was　that。　It　was　knowledge　slipping　through　her　fingers　when　she　wanted　it　held　close　that　curled　Elaida's　tongue。　In　spite　of　all　her　efforts；　every　last　initiate　in　the　Tower　had　learned　of　forkroot；　now。　No　one　liked　knowing　in　the　least。　No　one　liked　suddenly　being　vulnerable　to　anyone　with　a　knowledge　of　herbs　and　a　little　hot　water。　That　knowledge　was　worse　than　poison；　as　the　Sitters　here　made　clear。
　　　　　　　At　mention　of　the　herb；　Duhara's　big；　dark　eyes　grew　uneasy　in　her　coppery　face；　and　she　held　herself　more　stiffly　than　usual；　hands　clutching　skirts　so　red　they　seemed　nearly　black。　Sedore　actually　swallowed；　and　her　fingers　tightened　on　the　worked　leather　folder　Elaida　had　handed　her；　though　the　round…faced　Yellow　usually　carried　herself　with　a　frosty　elegance。　Andaya　shivered！　She　actually　wrapped　her　gray…fringed　shawl　around　her　convulsively。
　　　　　　　Elaida　wondered　what　they　would　do　if　they　learned　the　Asha'man　had　rediscovered　Traveling。　As　it　was；　they　were　barely　able　to　make　themselves　speak　of　them。　At　least　she　had　managed　to　hold　that　knowledge　to　a　handful。
　　　　　　　〃I　think　we　might　better　concern　ourselves　with　what　we　know　to　be　true；　yes？〃　Andaya　said　firmly；　back　in　control　of　herself。　Her　light　brown　hair；　brushed　till　it　gleamed；　hung　flowing　down　her　back；　and　her　silver…slashed　blue　dress　was　cut　in　the　style　of　Andor；　but　Tarabon　still　rested　strongly　on　her　tongue。　Though　neither　particularly　small　nor　particularly　slim；　she　somehow　always　reminded　Elaida　of　a　sparrow　about　to　hop　on　a　branch。　A　most　unlikely…appearing　negotiator；　though　her　reputation