fs.thethirdbookofswords-第23部分

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rce　ing　downstream。　There　were　also　some　small　fishing　craft　out　on　the　river；　and　one　or　two　light　sailboats　that　appeared　to　be　out　purely　for　pleasure。　Here　above　the　city　there　were　no　ships　of　ocean…going　size；　such　as　plied　the　reaches　downstream　from　Tashigang　to　the　sea。
　Two　kilometers　upstream　from　the　walls；　Denis　reached　the　first　sharp　upstream　bend　of　the　Corgo　and　looked　back　again；　ceasing　to　paddle　as　he　sought　a　last　glimpse　of　the　high　towers。　Visible　above　the　morning　mist　that　still　rose　from　the　river；　the　lofty　walls　and　battlements　caught　rays　of　the　early　morning　sun。　Here　and　there　upon　the　venerable　masses　of　brown　or　gray　stone；　glass　or　bright　metal　sparkled；　in　windows；　ornaments；　or　the　weapons　of　the　Watch。　On　several　high　places　the　green　and　gray　of　the　city's　own　colors　were　displayed。　Upon　the　highest　pole；　over　the　Lord　Mayor's　palace；　a　single　pennant　of　black　and　silver　acknowledged　the　ultimate　sovereignty　of　Yambu。
　As　he　paddled　farther　upstream；　Denis's　canoe　passed　between　shores　lined　with　the　villas　of　those　wealthy　citizens　who　felt　secure　enough　about　the　prospects　of　long…term　peace　to　choose　to　live　outside　the　city　walls。　These　were　impressive　houses；　each　fortified　behind　its　own　minor　defenses；　capable　of　holding　off　an　occasional　brigands'　raid。
　Independent　villas　soon　gave　way　to　suburbs　of　somewhat　less　impressive　houses；　built　together　behind　modest　walls；　and　these　in　turn　to　farms　and　vineyards。　These　lands　like　Tashigang　itself　were　tributary　to　the　Silver　Queen；　though　enjoying　a　great　measure　of　independence。　Yambu　in　her　years　of　domination　had　maintained　general　peace　and　order　here；　and　had　wisely　been　content　to　levy　no　more　than　moderate　tribute　and　to　allow　the　people　to　manage　their　own　affairs　for　the　most　part。　Tribute　flowed　in　regularly　under　such　a　regime；　and　the　Queen　built　a　fund　of　goodwill　for　herself。　Meanwhile　she　had　been　busy　venting　her　aggressive　energies　elsewhere。
　Pausing　once　to　eat　and　rest；　Denis　made　an　uneventful　first　day's　journey　up　the　river。　By　evening　he　was　far　enough　from　the　city's　center　of　population　to　have　no　trouble　in　locating　a　small　island　that　offered　him　a　good　spot　to　camp。　He　even　succeeded　in　catching　a　suitable　fish　for　his　dinner；　and　was　rather　pleased　with　this　success　in　outdoor　skills。
　On　the　second　day　he　got　an　early　start　again。　He　had　a　worker's　calloused　hands　and　did　not　mind　the　constant　paddling　overmuch；　the　healed　wound　in　his　forearm　did　not　trouble　him　at　all。　This　day　he　kept　a　careful　eye　out　for　certain　landmarks；　as　Ben　had　instructed　him。　Around　noon　he　was　able　to　identify　without　any　trouble　the　tributary　stream　he　wanted；　a　small　river　that　entered　the　Corgo　on　a　winding　course　from　the　northeast。　This　smaller　river；。　here　called　the　Spode；　drained　a　portion　of　the　Great　Swamp　…　it　did　not；　unfortunately；　lead　directly　to　the　part　where　Sir　Andrew　and　his　army　were　likely　to　be　found。　To　reach　that；　Denis　would　have　to　make　a　portage　later。
　The　voyager　passed　three　or　four　more　days　in　similarly　pleasant　journeying。　Each　day　he　saw　fewer　people；　and　those　he　did　see　usually　greeted　the　acolyte　of　Ardneh　with　friendly　waves。　Some　offered　him　food；　some　of　which　he　graciously　accepted。
　Denis　spent　much　of　his　mental　time　in　wondering　about　his　hidden　cargo。　He　knew　something　now　at　first　hand　about　the　Sword　of　Mercy。　But　what　exactly　did　the　Sword　of　Justice　do？　Denis　had　not　wanted　to　ask；　lest　they　believe　he　was　pondering　some　scheme　of　running　off　with　it。　（The　treacherous　thought　had　crossed　his　mind；　in　the　guise　of　yet　another　delicious　daydream。　So　far　…　so　far　…　his　other；　fiercer　feelings　had　kept　him　from　being　really　tempted　by　it。）
　And　Ben　had　not　thought　it　necessary　to　discuss　the　qualities　of　the　Sword　of　Justice　with　Denis　at　any　length。　The　master　of　the　House　of　Courtenay　had　said　only　one　thing　on　the　subject。
　〃Denis；　if　it　does　e　down　to　your　having　to　fight　someone　on　the　way；　I'd　remend　you　get　Doomgiver　out　and　use　it；　if　you　have　the　chance。　Don't　try　to　fight　with　Woundhealer；　though。　Not　if　your　idea　is　to　carve　up　someone　instead　of　making　him　feel　good。〃
　But　so　far　there　had　not　been　the　remotest　danger　of　a　fight。　So　far　the　journey's　only　physical　excitement　had　been　provided　by　occasional　thunderstorms；　threatening　the　traveler　with　lightning　and　drenching　white　robes　that　had　not　been　waterproofed。
　On　Denis's　fifth　day　out　he　passed　through　calm　farm　country；　in　lovely　weather。　That　night　he　again　made　camp　on　a　small　island。
　And　dreamed；　as　he　often　did；　of　women。　Kuan…yin；　the　governess　he　had　embraced　in　real　life；　and　thought　of　marrying；　beckoned　to　him。　And　tonight　he　dreamed　also　of　the　mistress　of　the　House　of　Courtenay；　who　in　real　life　had　never　touched　him　except　to　bind　his　wounded　arm。　Denis　dreamed　that　she　who　he　had　known　as　the　Lady　Sophie　had　e　to　visit　him　in　his　room　beside　the　workshop。　She　sat　on　his　cot　there　and　smiled；　and　held　his　hand；　and　thanked　him　for　something　he　had　done；　or　was　perhaps　about　to　do。　Her　white　robe　was　in　disarray；　hanging　open；　but　incredibly　she　seemed　not　to　notice。
　The　dream　was　just　approaching　its　moment　of　greatest　tension；　when　Denis　awoke。　He　lay　in　warm　moonlight；　with　the　sense　that　the　world　to　which　he　had　awakened　was　only　a　perfected　dream。　There　was　a　scent　in　the　air　…　of　riverside　flowers？　…　incredibly　sweet　and　beautiful；　too　subtle　to　be　called　perfume。
　And　there　was　in　the　air　also　something　else。　A　fearless　excitement。　Denis's　blood　throbbed　with　oneiric　anticipation；　of　he　knew　not　what。　Yet　he　knew　that　he　was　wide　awake。
　He　looked　along　the　river；　his　gaze　caught　by　the　path　of　reflected　moonlight。　He　saw　a　shadow；　as　of　some　drifting　boat；　enter　upon　that　path。　It　was　some　kind　of　craft　…　a　barge；　he　thought　…　speckled　with　its　own　small　lights；　and　moving　in　perfect　silence。　Almost　perfect。　A　moment　more；　and　Denis　could　hear　the　gentle　splash　and　drip　of　oars。
　As　the　barge　drew　closer；　he　could　see　that　it　was　larger　than　he　had　thought　at　first；　so　large　that　he　wondered　how　it　managed　to　navigate　the　narrower　places　in　this　small　river。　The　lights　along　its　low　sides　were　softly　glowing　amber　lamps；　as　steady　as　the　Old　World　light　that　Denis　was　familiar　with；　but　vastly　subtler。
　Denis　was　on　his　feet　now。　He　still　had　no　doubts　that　he　was　awake；　and　he　was　conscious　of　being　more　or　less　his　ordinary　self。　Whatever　was　happening　to　him　now　was　real；　but　he　had　no　sense　of　danger；　only　of　thrilling　promise。　He　moved　a　step　closer　to　the　bank；　the　water　murmuring　like　lovers'　laughter　at　his　feet。　He　stood　there　leaning　on　the　upended　bottom　of　the　canoe　that　he　had　prudently　pulled　out　of　the　river　before　retiring。
　As　the　barge　drew　closer　still；　Denis　could　see　that　it　bore　amidships　a　small　house　or　pavilion；　covered　by　an　awning　of　some　fine　cloth。　Just　forward　of　this　there　was　a　throne…like　chair　or　lounge；　all　centered　between　two　rows　of　strangely　silent　and　briefly　costumed　young　women　rowers。
　A　woman　was　reclining　upon　the　lounge；　in　the　middle　of　a　mass　of　pillows。　With　only　the　Moon　behind　her；　and　the　dim　lamps　on　her　boat；　Denis　could　see　her　at　first　only　by　hints　and　outlines。　At　first　his　heated　imagination　assured　him　that　she　was　wearing　nothing　at　all。　But　presently　his　eyes　were　forced　to　admit　the　fact　of　a　garment；　more　shimmering　mist　and　starlight；　it　seemed；　than　any　kind　of　cloth。　Most　of　the　woman's　body　was　enclosed　by　this　veil；　though　scarcely　any　of　it　was　concealed。
　Denis's　heart　lurched　within　him；　and　he　understood。　A　name　sprang　into　his　mind；　and　he　might　have　spoken　it　aloud；　but　just　at　that　moment　he　lacked　the　breath　to　say　anything　at　all。　He　had　never　seen　a　god　or　goddess　in　his　life　before；　and　had　never　really　expected　to　see　one　before　he　died。
　In　response　to　some　mand　unseen　and　unheard　by　Denis；　the　inhumanly　silent　rowers　stopped；　in　unison。　He　was　vaguely　aware；　even　without　looking　directly　at　them　for　a　moment；　of　how　ely　they　all　were；　and　how　provocatively　dressed。　With　the　Goddess　of　Love　herself　before　his　eyes；　he　could　not　have　looked　at　any　of　them　if　he　had　tried。