fs.thesecondbookofswords-第11部分
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e of the few times in his life that anyone had ever called him a minstrel； and he felt unreasonably pleased。
Tanakir told him： 〃You're leaving very soon。〃
Ben blinked at him again； then backed up carefully and sat down on a small chest； which creaked a little with the burden。 He sat in a position that left his hands and feet ready if they should be needed。 〃I haven't decided about that yet。〃
〃I'm deciding for you。〃
〃All right；〃 said Ben mildly。 He allowed the other just a beat in which to begin triumphant relaxation； before he added； 〃One of us leaves tonight； if you feel that way。 Well； maybe in the morning。 No one wants to start out on the road at night。〃
Ben paused briefly； then suggested： 〃Arm…wrestle for it？〃 It was impossible not to notice how the other's god…like arms had been circled with bands and bracelets to make them look still thicker； and what pains had been taken with short； tattered sleeves； that they might be best revealed。 Ben's own arms； if they had not been hidden in his long pilgrim's sleeves； would by parison have looked almost as chubby as they did strong。
Tanakir； after having been kept mentally off…balance for a few moments； now looked pleased。 All strongmen； thought Ben； are certainly not bright。 And this particular one must be a chronic pain to have around。
〃Arm…wrestle；〃 Tanakir repeated； nodding。 〃All right； we'll do that。 Yeah。〃
Barbara； who knew them both； must also have been pleased by Ben's suggestion； for she made no objection to it。 When Ben saw this his heart dared to rise again。 He smiled at Barbara as she moved quickly to clear the little table for their contest； and he got the briefest of smiles from her in return。
Before the contest could get started there was an outburst of whispering from outside the tent。 First； it sounded like some conspiratorial meeting getting too loud； and then； suddenly； like they were greeting someone in surprise。
Then imperturbable old Viktor； who by consent and diplomacy ran the carnival； put his head into the tent。 There was an unmon smile on his face。 Ben understood the smile when； a moment later； the head of a much taller and younger man appeared above Viktor's； grinning。
Still it took Ben a moment to make the recognition。 He jumped to his feet then； and cried out： 〃Mark！〃 It had been two years。 Ben would have moved forward； but Barbara was in his way。 She had already darted to the doorway to give the tall young man a great hug and kiss。
Tanakir was upset all over again。 〃What is this？〃 he roared at them。 〃e on； arm…wrestle； or just get out。〃
Barbara turned to him。 〃Don't be so eager； you've never managed to out…wrestle me。〃 She turned back to Mark。 〃Look at you； you're taller than Ben。〃
〃I was that when I left。 Or very nearly。〃
〃And just as strong。〃
Mark had to grin at that。
〃e on！〃 This was Tanakir again。 〃Whoever that clown is； he can wait his turn。〃
So the rest of the reunion had to be postponed。 Old Viktor； as usual； kept things moving with a few diplomatic words and gestures。 Mark remained in the background； smiling。 Viktor； having greeted Ben； nodded sagely when he saw what was developing in Barbara's tent。 Then he sent one of his wives on an errand； while he himself stood by； authoritatively twirling his gray mustache。
The wife was back promptly； bringing two stubs of candles into the darkening tent； along with a burning twig to light them。 Ben noticed with irrational relief that the candles were not blue beneath their golden tongues of flame。 They were set burning on the small table to the right and left of the two contestants。
Barbara gave up her single folding chair to Tanakir。 It creaked impressively when he sat down。 Ben hitched the little chest around and sat on it； so that he faced his opponent across the table。 He noted that Barbara and Mark together were now finishing off his sausage。 Fortunately he； Ben； had not arrived weak with hunger。 Mark looked good … but there was something that had to be taken care of first； before he could enjoy the pany of friends。
The two big men sat facing each other； their noses a meter apart。 The carnival strongman made a show of getting ready； rolling up his right sleeve a trifle more。 He managed to ripple the muscles of his arm impressively as he did so。
〃Don't fear the flame；〃 said Tanakir； leaning forward to put his elbow on the table。 Ben's elbow was already there。 The strongman's fierce scowl emanated onions。 〃I'll not burn you very much。 Cry out once and I'll let you go。〃
〃Don't fear the flame；〃 returned Ben； 〃for I'll not burn you at all。〃 And he reached forward； ready to meet the all…out surge of strength that the other was certain to apply as soon as he could grab Ben's hand。
〃Get him； Ben！〃 called Mark。
Their grips locked in the surge； the table quaked beneath their elbows。
And Barbara； with a greater urgency in her voice than merely friendship： 〃Win； Ben！ Win！〃
Tanakir cried out； but not with victory； nor yet with candle…burn。 The back of his hand descending had snuffed the flame before the heat could even scorch the hairs。 Snuffed out the flame； and thudded on to squash the wax below。
Chapter 4
The small man rode the once…paved road upon a fine but almost starving riding beast； and wore at his side a poor scabbard that had the hilt of a fine sword protruding from it。 Some things about this man； including his long； carefully trained black mustache； suggested that he might be castle…born。 But most of his clothing； and certain other indications； argued for a more humble origin。 He was bareheaded； and under the shock of wild black hair his lean； elegant face was grim。 He was mumbling to himself as he rode slowly through the warm spring sunshine。
Two more men； on foot； were following the mumbling rider across the grimly peaceful countryside； past abandoned farmsteads and untilled fields。 And several paces behind those two shuffled along a lad not quite full grown； though already tall。 On the right shoulder of this youth there rode a hooded shape； that under its covering of green cloth had to be that of some trained flying creature； bird or reptile perhaps。
Taken as a group； the four men looked like the token representation on a stage of some defeated army。 But the only thing their various costumes had in mon was the look of wear and poverty； if this was truly an army； it had no other uniform。
Of the two who were walking together； one carried a battle…hatchet in a kind of holster at his belt； and had a bow slung on his back。 His taller panion wore a sword on one side of his own belt； with a sling and stone…pouch on the other。 The visible hilt of this man's sword； in contrast to their leader's； was dull and cracked。
The surface of the road they traveled had once been paved and cared for； though like most of its users it was now experiencing hard times。 And the land through which the road passed looked as if it might once have been well tended。 A feral milkbeast； lean and scarred； stared at the procession as if it might never have seen men before； then leaped a broken fence to bolt into a thicket。 The man with the bow； hunger starting in his eyes； made the start of a motion to get the weapon off his back； but gave up before pleting it。 The beast was already out of sight。
The leader appeared to be paying very little heed to any of this。 He continued to mouth words to himself as he rode on； eyes fixed ahead。 One of the two men following； he who had the bow； was more concerned than the other by this circumstance。 He now nudged his taller panion； and signaled that they should lag back a few more steps behind their leader。
As soon as the gap between the two men and the rider had widened enough to give them good prospects for some privacy； the shorter man whispered： 〃Why does he mutter so？〃
The taller man who wore the battered sword had a long face with an habitually grave expression； that made him look like a solemn servant dressed up as a soldier。 And he answered gravely： 〃I think his woes have driven him half mad。〃
〃Ha。 Woes？ If that would do it； we'd all be jabbering
