rj.thepathofdaggers-第73部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


o　whether　I　ever　saw　him　again。〃　Once　more；　those　eyes　focused　on　Cadsuane；　green　augers。　Not　trying　to　see　what　lay　inside　her　head。　The　woman　knew。　Some；　at　least。　Enough；　or　too　much。
　　　　　　　Still；　Cadsuane　felt　a　rising　thrill　of　possibility。　If　she　had　had　any　doubts　that　Sorilea　wanted　to　feel　her　out；　they　were　gone。　And　you　did　not　feel　out　someone　in　this　manner　unless　you　hoped　for　some　agreement。　〃Do　you　believe　a　man　must　be　hard？〃　she　asked。　She　was　taking　a　chance。　〃Or　strong？〃　By　her　tone；　she　left　no　doubt　she　saw　a　difference。
　　　　　　　Again　Sorilea　touched　the　tray；　the　smallest　of　smiles　might　have　quirked　her　lips　for　an　instant。　Or　not。　〃Most　men　see　the　two　as　one　and　the　same；　Cadsuane　Melaidhrin。　Strong　endures；　hard　shatters。〃
　　　　　　　Cadsuane　drew　breath。　A　chance　she　would　have　scoured　anyone　else　for　taking。　But　she　was　not　anyone　else；　and　sometimes　chances　had　to　be　taken。　〃The　boy　confuses　them；〃　she　said。　〃He　needs　to　be　strong；　and　makes　himself　harder。　Too　hard；　already；　and　he　will　not　stop　until　he　is　stopped。　He　has　forgotten　how　to　laugh　except　in　bitterness；　there　are　no　tears　left　in　him。　Unless　he　finds　laughter　and　tears　again；　the　world　faces　disaster。　He　must　learn　that　even　the　Dragon　Reborn　is　flesh。　If　he　goes　to　Tarmon　Gai'don　as　he　is；　even　his　victory　may　be　as　dark　as　his　defeat。〃
　　　　　　　Sorilea　listened　intently；　and　kept　silent　even　after　Cadsuane　finished。　Those　green　eyes　studied　her。　〃Your　Dragon　Reborn　and　your　Last　Battle　are　not　in　our　prophecies；〃　Sorilea　said　at　last。　〃We　have　tried　to　make　Rand　al'Thor　know　his　blood；　but　I　fear　he　sees　us　as　only　another　spear。　If　one　spear　breaks　in　your　hand；　you　do　not　pause　to　mourn　before　taking　up　another。　Perhaps　you　and　I　aim　at　targets　not　too　far　apart。〃
　　　　　　　〃Perhaps　we　do；〃　Cadsuane　said　cautiously。　Targets　even　a　hand　apart　might　be　not　at　all　alike。
　　　　　　　Abruptly；　the　glow　of　saidar　surrounded　the　leather…faced　woman。　She　was　weak　enough　to　make　Daigian　look　at　least　moderately　strong。　But　then；　Sorilea's　strength　did　not　lie　in　the　Power。　〃There　is　a　thing　you　may　find　useful；〃　she　said。　〃I　cannot　make　it　work；　but　I　can　weave　the　flows　to　show　you。〃　She　did　just　that；　laying　feeble　skeins　that　fell　into　place　and　melted；　too　poor　to　do　what　they　were　intended　for。　〃It　is　called　Traveling；〃　Sorilea　said。
　　　　　　　This　time；　Cadsuane's　jaw　dropped。　Alanna　and　Kiruna　and　the　rest　denied　teaching　the　Wise　Ones　how　to　link；　or　a　number　of　other　skills　they　suddenly　seemed　to　have；　and　Cadsuane　had　assumed　the　Aiel　had　managed　to　wring　them　out　of　the　sisters　held　in　the　tents。　But　this　was。。。
　　　　　　　Impossible；　she　would　have　said；　yet　she　did　not　believe　Sorilea　was　lying。　She　could　hardly　wait　to　try　the　weave　herself。　Not　that　it　was　of　much　use　immediately。　Even　if　she　knew　exactly　where　the　wretched　boy　was；　she　had　to　make　him　e　to　her。　Sorilea　was　right　about　that。　〃A　very　great　gift；〃　she　said　slowly。　〃I　have　nothing　I　can　give　you　to　pare。〃
　　　　　　　This　time；　there　was　no　doubt　of　the　brief　smile　that　flashed　across　Sorilea's　lips。　She　knew　very　well　that　Cadsuane　was　in　her　debt。　Taking　up　the　heavy　golden　pitcher　with　both　hands；　she　carefully　filled　the　small　white　cups。　With　plain　water。　She　did　not　spill　a　drop。
　　　　　　　〃I　offer　you　water　oath；〃　she　said　solemnly；　picking　up　one　of　the　cups。　〃By　this；　we　are　bound　as　one；　to　teach　Rand　al'Thor　laughter　and　tears。〃　She　sipped；　and　Cadsuane　imitated　her。
　　　　　　　〃We　are　bound　as　one。〃　And　if　their　targets　turned　out　not　to　be　the　same　at　all？　She　did　not　underestimate　Sorilea　as　ally　or　opponent；　but　Cadsuane　knew　which　target　had　to　be　struck；　at　any　cost。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　
Chapter　13　
（Dragon）　
Floating　Like　Snow　
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　The　northern　horizon　was　purple　with　the　fierce　rain　that　had　hammered　the　east　of　Illian　through　the　night。　Overhead；　a　morning　sky　of　dark　boiling　clouds　threatened；　and　strong　winds　flung　cloaks　about；　made　banners　snap　and　crack　like　whips　on　the　crest　of　the　ridge；　the　white　Dragon　Banner　and　the　crimson　Banner　of　Light；　and　the　bright　standards　of　nobility　from　Illian　and　Cairhien　and　Tear。　The　nobles　kept　to　their　own　kind；　three　widely　spaced　knots　awash　in　gilt　and　silver…plated　steel；　silks　and　velvets　and　laces；　but　in　mon　they　looked　around　uneasily。　Even　the　best…trained　of　their　horses　tossed　heads　and　stamped　hooves　on　the　muddy　ground。　The　wind　was　cold；　and　colder　seeming　for　the　heat　it　had　replaced　so　abruptly；　just　as　the　rain　had　been　a　shock　after　so　long　without。　From　whatever　nation；　they　had　prayed　for　the　baking　drought　to　break；　but　none　knew　what　to　make　of　unrelenting　storms　in　answer　to　their　prayers。　Some　glanced　at　Rand　when　they　thought　he　would　not　notice。　Perhaps　wondering　if　he　had　answered　them　so。　The　thought　made　him　laugh　softly；　bitterly。
　　　　　　　He　patted　his　black　gelding's　neck　with　a　leather…gauntleted　hand；　glad　that　Tai'daishar　did　not　show　nerves。　The　massive　animal　might　have　been　a　statue；　awaiting　the　pressure　of　reins　or　knees　to　move。　It　was　good　that　the　Dragon　Reborn's　horse　seemed　as　cold　as　he　did；　as　though　they　floated　in　the　Void　together。　Even　with　the　One　Power　raging　through　him；　fire　and　ice　and　death；　he　was　barely　aware　of　the　wind；　though　it　flailed　his　gold…embroidered　cloak　about　and　cut　through　his　coat；　green　silk　thickly　worked　with　gold　and　not　intended　for　wear　in　such　weather。　The　wounds　in　his　side　ached　and　throbbed；　the　old　and　the　new　cutting　across　it；　the　wounds　that　would　never　heal；　but　that　was　distant；　too；　another　man's　flesh。　The　Crown　of　Swords　might　have　been　pricking　someone　else's　temples　with　the　sharp　points　of　the　tiny　blades　among　its　golden　laurel　leaves。　Even　the　filth　woven　through　saidin　seemed　less　obtrusive　than　it　once　had；　still　vile；　still　loathsome；　but　no　longer　worth　notice。　The　nobles'　eyes　on　his　back　were　palpable；　though。
　　　　　　　Shifting　his　sword　hilt；　he　leaned　forward。　He　could　see　the　tight　cluster　of　low；　wooded　hills　half　a　mile　to　the　east　as　clearly　as　if　he　were　using　a　looking　glass。　The　land　was　flat；　here；　the　only　prominences　those　forested　hills　and　this　long　ridge；　thrusting　up　from　the　heath。　The　next　thicket　dense　enough　to　truly　deserve　the　name　lay　close　to　ten　miles　off。　Only　storm…battered　half…leafless　trees　and　tangles　of　undergrowth　were　visible　on　the　hills；　but　he　knew　what　they　hid。　Two；　perhaps　three　thousand　of　the　men　Sammael　had　gathered　to　try　to　stop　him　from　taking　Illian。
　　　　　　　That　army　had　disintegrated　once　they　learned　that　the　man　who　had　summoned　them　was　dead；　that　Mattin　Stepaneos　had　vanished；　perhaps　into　the　grave　as　well；　and　that　there　was　a　new　king　in　Illian。　Many　had　scattered　back　to　their　homes；　yet　just　as　many　clung　together。　Usually　no　more　than　twenty　here；　thirty　there；　but　a　great　army　if　they　came　together　again；　and　countless　armed　bands　otherwise。　Either　way；　they　could　not　be　allowed　to　roam　the　countryside。　Time　weighed　down　on　his　shoulders　like　lead。　There　was　never　enough　time；　but　maybe　this　once。。。　Fire　and　ice　and　death。
　　　　　　　What　would　you　do？　he　thought。　Are　you　there？　And　then；　doubtfully；　hating　the　doubt；　Were　you　ever　there？　Silence　answered；　deep　and　dead　in　the　emptiness　that　surrounded　him。　Or　was　there　mad　laughter　somewhere　in　the　recesses　of　his　mind？　Did　he　imagine　it；　like　the　feel　of　someone　looking　over　his　shoulder；　someone　just　on　the　brink　of　touching　his　back？　Or　the　colors　that　swirled　just　out　of　sight；　more　than　colors；　and　were　gone？　A　thing　of　madmen。　His　gloved　thumb　slid　along　the　carvings　that　serpentined　the　Dragon　Scepter。　The　long　green…and…white　tassels　below　the　polished　spearpoint　fluttered　in　the　wind。　Fire　and　ice；　and　death　would　e。
　　　　　　　〃I　will　go　talk　to　them　myself；〃　he　announced。　Which　produced　a　furor。
　　　　　　　Lord　Gregorin；　the　green　sash　of　the　Council　of　Nine　slanted　across　his　ornately　gilded　breastplate；　hurried　his　fine…ankled　white　gelding　forward　from　the　Illianers；　followed　closely　by　Demetre　Marcolin；　First　Captain　of　the　panions；　on　a　solid　bay。　Marcolin　was　the　only　man　among　them　without　silk　or　a　speck　of　lace；　the　only　man　in　plain　if　brightly　burnished　armor；　though　the　conical　helmet