rj.thepathofdaggers-第17部分

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think　of。　What　it　was　meant　to　do；　she　had　no　idea；　but　it　was　a　ter'angreal　without　any　doubt。　It　went　on　the　other　side　of　her；　away　from　the　pile　of　rubbish。
　　　　　　　The　heap　of　refuse　continued　to　grow；　but　so　did　the　other；　if　more　slowly；　things　that　had　nothing　in　mon　except　the　faint　warmth　and　the　sense　of　echoing　the　Power。　A　small　box　that　felt　like　ivory；　covered　in　wavering　red　and　green　stripes；　she　set　it　down　carefully　without　opening　the　hinged　lid。　You　could　never　tell　what　might　trigger　a　ter'angreal。　A　black　rod　no　thicker　than　her　little　finger；　a　pace　in　length；　stiff　yet　so　flexible　she　thought　she　could　have　doubled　it　into　a　circle。　A　tiny　stoppered　vial　that　might　have　been　crystal；　with　a　dark　red　liquid　inside。　The　figure　of　a　stout；　bearded　man　with　a　jolly　smile；　holding　a　book；　two　feet　tall；　it　appeared　to　be　age…darkened　bronze　and　took　both　of　her　hands　to　move。　Other　things。　Most　was　trash；　though。　And　none　was　what　she　truly　wanted。　Not　yet。
　　　　　　　〃Is　this　the　time　to　be　doing　that？〃　Nynaeve　asked。　She　straightened　hastily　from　the　small　cluster　of　ter'angreal；　grimacing　and　rubbing　her　hand　on　her　skirt。　〃That　rod　feels　like。。。　pain；〃　she　muttered。　The　hard…faced　woman　holding　the　packhorse's　head　blinked　at　the　rod　and　edged　away。
　　　　　　　Elayne　eyed　the　rod　…　Nynaeve's　occasional　impressions　about　objects　she　touched　could　be　useful　…　but　she　did　not　stop　sorting。　There　had　been　too　much　pain　lately　to　need　any　more；　surely。　Not　that　what　Nynaeve　sensed　was　always　that　straightforward。　The　rod　might　have　been　present　when　a　great　deal　of　pain　was　caused　without　being　the　cause　in　itself。　The　pannier　was　almost　empty；　some　of　what　was　on　the　other　side　of　the　horse　would　have　to　be　shifted　to　balance　the　weight。　〃If　there's　an　angreal　in　this　somewhere；　Nynaeve；　I　would　like　to　find　it　before　Moghedien　taps　one　of　us　on　the　shoulder。〃
　　　　　　　Nynaeve　grunted　sourly；　but　she　peered　into　the　wicker　basket。
　　　　　　　Dropping　another　table　leg　…　that　made　three；　none　of　which　matched　…　Elayne　spared　a　glance　for　the　clearing。　All　of　the　packhorses　were　out；　and　the　mounts　were　ing　through　the　gateway；　now；　filling　the　open　space　between　the　trees　with　bustle　and　confusion。　Merilille　and　the　other　Aes　Sedai　already　sat　their　saddles；　barely　concealing　their　impatience　to　be　off；　while　Pol　fussed　hurriedly　with　her　mistress's　saddlebags；　but　the　Windfinders。。。
　　　　　　　Graceful　afoot；　graceful　on　their　ships；　they　were　unused　to　horses。　Renaile　was　trying　to　mount　from　the　wrong　side；　and　the　gentle　bay　mare　chosen　for　her　danced　slow　circles　around　the　liveried　man　who　was　gripping　the　bridle　with　one　hand　while　tugging　his　hair　in　frustration　with　the　other　and　vainly　trying　to　correct　the　Windfinder。　Two　of　the　stablewomen　were　attempting　to　hoist　Dorile；　who　served　the　Wavemistress　of　Clan　Somarin；　into　her　saddle；　while　a　third；　holding　the　gray's　head；　wore　the　tight　face　of　someone　trying　not　to　laugh。　Rainyn　was　on　the　back　of　a　leggy　brown　gelding；　but　somehow　without　either　foot　in　the　stirrups　or　the　reins　in　her　hands　and　having　considerable　trouble　finding　any　of　them。　And　those　three　seemed　to　be　having　the　easiest　time　of　it。　Horses　whinnied　and　danced　and　rolled　their　eyes；　and　Windfinders　shouted　curses　in　voices　that　could　have　been　heard　over　a　gale。　One　of　them　knocked　a　serving　man　flat　with　her　fist；　and　three　more　stable　folk　were　trying　to　catch　mounts　that　had　gotten　free。
　　　　　　　There　was　also　what　she　had　expected　to　see；　if　Nynaeve　was　no　longer　keeping　her　private　watch。　Lan　stood　by　his　black　warhorse；　Mandarb；　dividing　his　gaze　between　the　treeline；　the　gateway；　and　Nynaeve。　Birgitte　came　striding　out　of　the　woods　shaking　her　head；　and　a　moment　later；　Cieryl；　trotted　from　the　trees；　but　with　no　sense　of　urgency。　There　was　nothing　out　there　to　threaten　or　inconvenience　them。
　　　　　　　Nynaeve　was　watching　her；　eyebrows　raised　high。
　　　　　　　〃I　didn't　say　anything；〃　Elayne　said。　Her　hand　closed　on　something　small；　wrapped　in　rotting　cloth　that　might　have　been　white　once。　Or　brown。　She　knew　immediately　what　was　inside。
　　　　　　　〃A　good　thing　for　you；〃　Nynaeve　grumbled；　not　quite　far　enough　under　her　breath。　〃I　can't　abide　women　who　poke　their　noses　into　other　people's　business。〃　Elayne　let　it　pass　without　so　much　as　a　start；　she　was　proud　that　she　did　not　have　to　bite　her　tongue。
　　　　　　　Stripping　away　the　decayed　cloth　revealed　a　small　amber　brooch　in　the　shape　of　a　turtle。　It　looked　like　amber；　anyway；　and　it　might　been　amber　once；　but　when　she　opened　herself　to　the　Source　through　it；　saidar　rushed　into　her；　a　torrent　pared　to　what　she　could　draw　safely　on　her　own。　Not　a　strong　angreal；　but　far　better　than　nothing。　With　it；　she　could　handle　twice　as　much　of　the　Power　as　Nynaeve；　and　Nynaeve　herself　would　do　better　still。　Releasing　the　extra　flow　of　saidar；　she　slipped　the　brooch　into　her　belt　pouch　with　a　smile　of　delight　and　went　back　to　searching。　Where　there　was　one；　there　might　be　more。　And　now　that　she　had　one　to　study；　she　might　be　able　to　reason　out　how　to　make　an　angreal。　That　was　something　she　had　wished　for。　It　was　all　she　could　do　not　to　take　the　brooch　out　again　and　begin　probing　it　right　there。
　　　　　　　Vandene　had　been　eyeing　Nynaeve　and　her　for　some　time；　and　now　she　heeled　her　slab…sided　gelding　over　to　them　and　dismounted。　The　groom　at　the　packhorse's　head　managed　a　decent　if　awkward　curtsy；　more　than　she　had　for　Elayne　or　Nynaeve。　〃You're　being　careful；〃　Vandene　said　to　Elayne；　〃and　that's　very　good。　But　it　might　be　better　to　leave　these　things　alone　until　they're　in　the　Tower。〃
　　　　　　　Elayne's　mouth　tightened。　In　the　Tower？　Until　they　could　be　examined　by　someone　else；　was　what　she　meant。　Someone　older　and　supposedly　more　experienced。　〃I　do　know　what　I'm　doing；　Vandene。　I　have　made　ter'angreal；　after　all。　Nobody　else　living　has　done　that。〃　She　had　taught　the　basics　to　some　sisters；　but　no　one　had　managed　the　trick　of　it　by　the　time　she　left　for　Ebou　Dar。
　　　　　　　The　older　Green　nodded；　flipping　her　reins　idly　against　the　palm　of　her　riding　glove。　〃Martine　Janata　also　knew　what　she　was　doing；　so　I　understand；〃　she　said　casually。　〃She　was　the　last　sister　to　really　make　a　business　of　studying　ter'angreal。　She　did　it　for　over　forty　years；　almost　from　the　time　she　reached　the　shawl。　She　was　careful；　too；　so　I　was　told。　Then　one　day；　Martine's　maid　found　her　unconscious　on　the　floor　of　her　sitting　room。　Burned　out。〃　Even　in　a　conversational　tone；　those　words　were　a　sharp　slap。　Vandene's　voice　did　not　alter　a　hair；　though。　〃Her　Warder　was　dead　from　the　shock。　Not　unusual　in　cases　like　that。　When　Martine　came　to；　three　days　later；　she　couldn't　recall　what　she　had　been　working　with。　She　couldn't　remember　the　preceding　week　at　all。　That　was　more　than　twenty…five　years　ago；　and　no　one　since　has　had　the　nerve　to　touch　any　of　the　ter'angreal　that　were　in　her　rooms。　Her　notes　mentioned　every　last　one；　and　everything　she　had　discovered　was　innocuous；　innocent；　even　frivolous；　but。。。　〃　Vandene　shrugged。　〃She　found　something　she　wasn't　expecting。〃
　　　　　　　Elayne　peeked　at　Birgitte；　and　found　Birgitte　looking　back　at　her。　She　did　not　need　to　see　the　worried　frown　on　the　other　woman's　face；　it　was　mirrored　in　her　mind；　in　the　small　patch　of　her　mind　that　was　Birgitte　and　in　the　rest。　Birgitte　felt　her　worry；　and　she　felt　Birgitte's；　until　sometimes　it　was　hard　to　say　which　was　which。　She　risked　more　than　herself。　But　she　did　know　what　she　was　doing。　More　than　anyone　else　there；　at　least。　And　even　if　none　of　the　Forsaken　appeared；　they　needed　all　the　angreal　she　could　find。
　　　　　　　〃What　happened　to　Martine？〃　Nynaeve　asked　quietly。　〃Afterward；　I　mean。〃　She　could　seldom　hear　of　anyone　being　hurt　without　wanting　to　Heal　them；　she　wanted　to　Heal　everything。
　　　　　　　Vandene　grimaced。　She　might　have　been　the　one　to　bring　up　Martine；　but　Aes　Sedai　did　not　like　talking　about　women　who　had　been　burned　out　or　stilled。　They　did　not　like　remembering　them。　〃She　vanished　once　she　was　well　enough　to　slip　out　of　the　Tower；〃　she　said　hurriedly。　〃The　important　thing　to　remember　is　that　she　was　cautious。　I　never　met　her；　but　I've　been　told　she　treated　every　ter'angreal　as　if　she　had　no　idea　what