fs.thethirdbookofswords-第16部分

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talking　and　gesturing　freely　among　themselves。　Occasionally　when　they　thought　he　was　not　watching　one　of　them　would　make　a　sign　in　his　direction；　that　Mark　interpreted　as　some　kind　of　charm　to　ward　off　danger。　Gradually　he　decided　that　they　must　see　him　as　some　powerful　and　dangerous　wizard　they　knew　to　be　in　Vilkata's　service。
　Upon　recovering　from　their　first　surprise　at　his　approach；　they　had　been　quick　to　offer　him　food　and　drink；　and　his　pick　of　their　riding　beasts　for　his　own　use　…　they　had　been　traveling　with　a　couple　of　spare　mounts。　Each　night　when　they　halted；　Mark　built　his　own　small　fire；　a　little　apart　from　theirs。　He　had　soon　decided　that　they　would　feel　somewhat　easier　that　way；　and　in　truth　he　felt　easier　himself。
　The　country　grew　higher；　and　the　nights；　under　a　Moon　waxing　toward　full；　grew　chill。　Using　the　blanket　that　had　been　rolled　up　behind　the　saddle　of　his　borrowed　mount；　Mark　slept　in　reasonable　fort。　He　slept　with　one　hand　always　on　the　hilt　of　Sightblinder；　though　he　felt　confident　that　the　mere　presence　of　the　Sword　in　his　possession　would　be　enough　to　maintain　his　magical　disguise。　He　was　vaguely　reassured　to　see　that　the　patrol　always　posted　sentries　at　night；　in　a　professional　manner。
　The　journey　proceeded　swiftly。　On　the　afternoon　of　the　fourth　day　after　Mark　had　joined　them；　the　patrol　rode　into　sight　of　Vilkata's　main　encampment。
　As　the　riders　topped　a　small；　barren　rise　of　land；　the　huge　bivouac　came　into　view　a　kilometer　ahead；　on　slightly　lower　ground。　The　sprawling　camp　was　constructed　around　what　looked　to　Mark　like　a　large　parade　ground　of　scraped　and　flattened　earth。　The　camp　appeared　to　be　laid　out　in　good　order；　but　it　was　not　surrounded　by　a　palisade　or　any　other　defensive　works。　Rather　it　sprawled　arrogantly　exposed；　as　if　on　the　assumption　that　no　power　on　earth　was　going　to　dare　attack　it。　Mark　considered　gloomily　that　the　assumption　was　probably　correct。
　As　he　and　his　escort　rode　nearer　to　the　camp；　he　realized　that　it　probably　contained　not　only　more　human　troops　than　he　had　ever　seen　in　one　place　before；　but　a　greater　variety　of　them　as　well；　housed　in　a　wild　assortment　of　tents　and　other　temporary　shelters。　The　outer　pickets　of　the　camp；　men　and　women　patrolling　with　leashed　warbeasts；　made　no　attempt　to　challenge　Mark　and　his　escort　as　they　approached。　And　Mark　observed　that　when　the　human　sentries　were　close　enough　to　get　a　good　look　at　him；　they；　like　his　escort　originally；　shrank　back　perceptibly。
　He　had　to　wonder　again：　Who；　or　what；　did　they　see？　And　who　or　what　would　Vilkata　see　when　Mark　entered　his　presence；　if　Mark　succeeded　in　pushing　matters　that　far？　It　was　hard　for　Mark　to　imagine　that　there　could　be　anyone　the　Dark　King　either　feared　or　loved。
　Only　now；　at　last；　did　Mark　clearly　consider　that　he　might　be　headed　for　a　personal　encounter　with　the　Dark　King。　He　had　first　approached　the　patrol　with　no　more　than　a　vague　idea　of　eavesdropping　on　the　enemy's　secret　councils；　just　as　Draffut　said　he　had　moved　unrecognized　among　the　gods。　Now　for　the　first　time　Mark　saw　that　it　might　be　his　duty　to　acplish　something　more　than　that。　The　thought　was　vastly　intriguing　and　at　the　same　time　deeply　frightening；　and　he　did　not　try　now　to　think　it　through　to　any　definite　conclusion。
　He　rode　on；　still　surrounded　by　his　escort；　until　they　were　somewhere　deep　inside　the　vast　encampment。　There　the　patrol　halted；　and　its　members　began　an　animated　discussion　among　themselves；　in　some　dialect　that　Mark　could　not　really　follow。　Judging　that　the　debate　might　be　on　how　to　separate　themselves　from　him　as　safely　and　properly　as　possible；　he　took　the　matter　into　his　own　hands　by　dismounting；　and　then　dismissing　both　his　steed　and　his　escort　with　what　he　hoped　looked　like　an　arrogantly　confident　wave　of　his　hand。
　Turning　his　back　on　the　patrol　then；　Mark　stalked　away　on　foot；　heading　for　a　tall　flagpole　that　was　visible　above　the　nearby　tents。　The　pole　supported　a　long　banner　of　black　and　gold；　hanging　limp　now　in　the　windless　air。　Mark　hoped　and　expected　that　this　flag　marked　the　location　of　some　central　headquarters。　As　he　walked　toward　it　he　saw　the　heads　of　soldiers　and　camp…followers　turn；　their　attention　following　him　as　he　passed；　and　he　saw　too　that　some　people　either　speeded　up　or　slowed　their　own　progress；　in　order　not　to　cross　his　path　too　closely。
　Now　he　had　to　detour　around　some　warbeasts'　pens；　the　smell　and　the　mewing　of　the　great　catlike　creatures　ing　out　of　them　in　waves。　Now　he　was　in　sight　of　one　corner　of　the　vast　parade　ground。　From　the　farther　reaches　of　its　expanse；　somewhere　out　of　Mark's　sight；　there　sounded　the　chant　and　drumbeat　of　some　hapless　infantry　unit　condemned　to　drilling　in　the　heat。　Looking　across　the　nearest　corner　of　the　field；　he　could　now　see　the　tall　flagpole　at　full　length。　There　was　a　wooden　reviewing　stand　beside　the　flagpole；　and　behind　the　stand　a　magnificent　pavilion。　This　was　a　tent　larger　than　most　houses；　of　black　and　gold　cloth。
　Mark　stalked　directly　toward　the　great　pavilion；　considering　that　it　had　to　be　the　Dark　King's　head…　quarters。　His　right　hand；　riding　on　the　hilt　of　sheathed　Sightblinder；　could　feel　a　new　hum　of　power　in　the　Sword；　perhaps　there　were　guardian　spells　here　that　had　to　be　overe。
　The　front　of　the　reviewing　stand　displayed　another　copy　of　Vilkata's　flag；　this　one　stretched　out　to　reveal　the　design；　a　skull　of　gold　upon　a　field　of　black。　The　eyesockets　of　the　skull　stared　forth　sightlessly；　twin　windows　into　night。
　Again　Mark　had　to　make　a　small　detour；　round　more　low　cages　that　he　at　first　thought　held　more　warbeasts。　But　the　wood…slatted　cages　looked　too　small　for　that。　All　but　one　of　them　were　empty；　and　that　one　held。。。　the　naked　body　confined　inside　was　human。
　Abruptly　something　shimmered　in　the　air　above　Mark's　head；　broadcasting　torment。　As　Mark　moved　instinctively　to　step　aside；　this　presence　moved　with　him。　Only　at　this　moment　did　he　realize　that　it　was　sentient。
　And　only　a　moment　after　that　did　he　realize　that　he　was　being　confronted　by　a　demon。
　And　the　demon　was　addressing　him；　demanding　something　of　him；　though　not　in　human　speech。　Whether　its　munication　was　meant　for　his　ears　or　to　enter　his　mind　directly　he　could　not　tell。　Nor　could　he　grasp　more　than　fragments　of　the　meaning。　It　was　basically　a　challenge：　Why　was　he　here？　Why　was　he　here　now；　when　he　ought　to　be　somewhere　else？　Why　was　he　as　he　was？
　He　realized　with　a　shock　that　he　was　going　to　have　to　answer　it；　to　offer　something　analogous　to　a　password　before　it　would　allow　him　to　pass　this　point；　or　even　release　him。　What　image　it　saw　when　it　looked　at　him　evidently　did　not　matter。　Here；　approaching　the　pavilion；　everyone　must　be　stopped。　And　he　doubted　there　was　anything；　or　anyone；　that　this　demon　feared　or　loved。
　Mark　could　no　more　answer　the　demonic　voice　intelligently；　in　its　own　terms；　than　he　could　have　held　converse　with　a　bee。　He　knew　fear；　exploding　into　terror。　He　ought　to　have　foreseen　that　here　there　might　be　such　formidable　guardians；　here　at　the　heart　of　Vilkata's　power　and　control；　the　Dark　King　himself　was　most　likely　in　that　huge　tent　ahead。　Here；　perhaps；　they　had　even　been　able　to　plan　defenses　against　the　Sword　of　Stealth。　Here　its　powers　were　not　going　to　be　enough。。。
　Only　moments　had　passed　since　the　demon　had　first　challenged　him；　but　already　Mark　could　sense　the　creature's　growing　suspicion。　Now　it　sent　an　even　more　urgent　interrogation　crashing　against　Mark's　mind。　Now　it　was　probing　him；　searching　for　evidence　of　the　signs　and　keys　of　magic　that　he　did　not　possess。　In　a　moment　it　would　be　certain　that　he　was　some　imposter；　not　a　wizard　after　all。
　In　his　desperation　Mark　grasped　at　a　certain　memory；　four　years　old　but　still　vivid。　It　was　the　recollection　of　his　only　previous　close　encounter　with　a　demon；　in　the　depths　of　the　buried　treasure…vaults　of　the　Blue　Temple。　Now；　in　desperate　imitation　of　what　another　had　done　then；　Mark　gasped　out　a　mand　into　the　shimmering　air：
　〃In　the　Emperor's　name；　depart　and　let　me　pass！〃
　There　was　a　momentary　howling　in　the　air。　Simultaneously　there　came　a　tornado…blast　of　wind；　lasting　only　for　an　instant。　Mark　caught　a　last　shred　of　muni