fs.thethirdbookofswords-第38部分

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earing　a　mask？
　The　gray…clad　figure　came　close；　and　knelt　down　beside　him　like　a　concerned　rade。
　Sir　Andrew　asked：　〃Who're　you？〃
　The　man　raised　a　hand　promptly　and　pulled　off　his　mask。
　〃Oh。〃　Sir　Andrew's　voice　was　almost　disappointed　in　its　reassurance。　〃You；〃　he　said；　relieved　and　calm。　〃Yes。。。　I　know　who　you　are。〃
　Denis；　returning　mounted　and　at　full　speed；　leading　a　small　flying　wedge　of　armed　and　armored　folk　who　were　desperate　to　relieve　their　beloved　lord；　found　the　battlefield　deserted　by　the　living。　Sir　Andrew　lay　dead；　at　a　little　distance　from　the　other　dead。　His　body；　though　covered　with　others'　gore；　was　unmarked　by　any　serious　wound。　The　expression　on　the　Kind　Knight's　face　was　peaceful。
　Presently　Denis　and　the　others　began　to　look　for　Shieldbreaker。　They　looked　everywhere　among　the　dead；　and　then　in　widening　circles　outward。　But　the　Sword　of　Force　was　gone。
　Chapter　11
　The　field　cot　was　wide　enough　for　two　…　for　two；　at　least；　who　were　on　terms　of　intimate　friendship　…　but　tonight；　as　for　many　nights　past；　only　one　person　had　slept　in　it。
　Or　tried　to　sleep。
　The　Silver　Queen's　field　tent　was　not　large；　not　for　a　shelter　that　had　to　serve　sometimes　as　royal　conference　room　as　well　as　dwelling。　According　to　certain　stories　she　had　heard；　it　would　not　have　made　a　room　in　the　great　pavilion　that　usually　acpanied　the　Dark　King　when　he　traveled　with　his　army。
　She　felt　great　scorn　for　many　of　the　Dark　King's　ways。　But　there　were　other　things　about　him　that　enforced　respect；　and　…　to　herself；　alone　at　night；　she　could　admit　it　…　tended　to　induce　fear　as　well。
　The　Queen　of　Yambu　was　sitting　in　near…midnight　darkness　on　the　edge　of　her　lonely　field　cot；　wearing　the　light　drawers　and　shirt　she　usually　slept　in　when　in　the　field　with　her　troops。　She　could　hear　rain　dripping　desultorily　upon　the　tent；　and　an　occasional　word　or　movement　of　one　of　the　sentries　not　far　outside。
　Her　gaze　was　fixed　on　a　dim；　inanimate　shape；　resting　only　an　arm's　length　away　beside　the　cot。　In　midnight　darkness　it　was　all　but　impossible　to　see　the　thing　that　she　was　looking　at；　but　that　did　not　really　matter；　for　she　knew　the　object　as　well　as　her　own　hand。　It　rested　there　on　a　trestle　as　it　always　did；　beside　her　when　she　slept　…　or　tried　to　sleep。　It　was　a　Swordcase　of　carven　wood；　its　huge　wooden　hilt　formed　by　chiseled　dragons　with　their　long　necks　recurved；　as　if　they　meant　to　sink　their　fangs　into　each　other。　Just　where　the　case　had　originated；　or　when；　the　queen　of　Yambu　was　not　sure；　but　she　thought　it　beautiful；　and　after　the　best　specialist　magicians　in　her　pay　had　pronounced　it　innocent　of　any　harm　for　her；　she　had　used　it　to　encase　her　treasure；　which　she　kept　near　her　almost　always　…　her　visit　to　Sir　Andrew　in　the　swamp　had　been　one　notable　exception　…　as　her　last　dark　hope　for　victory。
　A　thousand　times　she　had　opened　the　wooden　case；　but　she　had　never　yet　drawn　Soulcutter　from　its　sheath　inside。　Never　yet　had　she　seen　the　bare　steel　of　that　Blade　in　what　she　was　sure　must　be　its　splendor。　She　was　afraid　to　do　so。　But　without　it　in　her　possession　she　would　not　have　dared　to　take　her　army　into　the　field　now；　risking　bat　with　the　Mindsword　and　its　mighty　owner　the　Dark　King。
　Some　hours　ago；　near　sunset；　a　winged　half…intelligent　messenger　had　brought　her　word　of　Vilkata's　latest　triumph。　He　had　apparently　crushed　what　might　have　been　Sir　Andrew's　entire　army。　Then；　instead　of　ing　to　attack　her　as　she　kept　expecting　he　would　do；　Vilkata　had　turned　his　own　vast　forces　in　a　move　in　the　direction　of　Tashigang。
　Maybe　the　Dark　King's　scouts　had　lost　track　of　where　her　forces　were。　But　for　whatever　reason；　her　own　certainty　that　she　would　be　the　first　one　attacked　by　Vilkata　was　proven　wrong；　and　that　gave　cowardice　a　chance　to　whisper　in　her　ear　that　it　might　not　be　too　late　for　her　to　patch　up　an　alliance　with　the　King。　Of　course　cowardice；　as　usual；　was　an　idiot。　Her　intelligence　told　her　that　her　only　real　hope　lay　in　attacking　the　Dark　King　now；　while　she　might　still　hope　for　some　real　help。　Sir　Andrew　was　already　gone。　When　Tashigang　too　had　fallen；　then　it　would　certainly　be　too　late。
　When　the　news　of　Vilkata's　most　recent　triumph　had　e　in；　Yambu　had　first　conferred　briefly　with　her　manders；　then　dismissed　them；　telling　them　to　let　the　troops　get　some　rest　tonight。　But　she　herself　had　not　been　able　to　sleep　since。　Nor；　though　her　own　necessary　course　of　action　was　being　plainer　and　plainer；　had　she　been　able　to　muster　the　will　to　be　decisive；　to　give　the　orders　to　break　camp　and　march。
　Who；　or　what；　could　stand　against　the　Mindsword？　Evidently　only　something　that　was　just　as　terrible。
　And　Sir　Andrew　had　been　wearing　Shieldbreaker；　ready　at　his　side。　With　her　own　eyes；　on　her　visit　to　the　swamp；　she　had　seen　the　small　white　hammer　on　the　black　hilt。　Vilkata　with　his　Mindsword　had　evidently　won；　somehow；　even　against　that　weapon。　Did　Vilkata　now　have　possession　of　both　those　Blades？　But　even　if　he　did；　each　terrible　augmentation　of　his　power　only　made　it　all　the　more　essential　to　march　against　him　without　delay。
　The　Silver　Queen　stood　up　and　moved　forward　one　short　pace　in　midnight　blackness；　trusting　that　the　tent　floor　was　there　as　usual；　and　no　assassin's　knife。　She　put　out　her　hand　and　touched　the　wooden　case；　then　opened　it。
　She　stroked　。with　one　finger　the　black　hilt　of　her　own　Sword。　This　Sword　alone　among　the　Twelve　bore　no　white　symbol　on　its　hilt。　No　sense　of　power　came　to　her　when　she　touched　it。　There　was　no　sense　of　anything；　beyond　the　dull　material　hilt　itself。　Of　all　the　Twelve；　this　one　alone　had　nothing　to　say　to　the　world　about　itself。
　She　glanced　back　at　her　solitary　cot；　barely　visible　in　the　dulled　sky…glow　that　fell　in　through　the　tent's　screened　window。　She　visualized　Amintor's　scarred　shoulders　as　they　sometimes　appeared　there；　bulking　above　the　plain　rumpled　blanket。　Amintor　was　wise；　sometimes。　Or　clever　at　least。　She　doubted　now　that　she　herself　knew　what　wisdom　was；　doubted　she　would　recognize　wisdom　if　it　came　flying　at　her　in　the　night　like　some　winged　attacking　reptile。
　Quite　possibly　she　had　never　been　able　to　recognize　it；　and　only　of　late　was　she　aware　of　this。
　The　one　adviser　whose　word　she　would　really　have　valued　now　had　been　gone　from　her　side　for　years；　and　he　was　not　ing　back。　She　was　never　going　to　see　him　again；　except；　possibly；　one　day　across　some　battlefield。　But　perhaps　when　they　met　in　battle　he　would　be　wearing　a　mask　again　（she　had　never　understood　why　he　did　that　so　often）　and　he　would　go　unrecognized。
　And　now；　at　this　point　in　what　had　bee　a　familiar　cycle　of　thought；　it　was　time　for　her　to　think　about　Ariane。　Ariane　her　daughter；　her　only　child；　and　of　course　his　daughter　too。
　The　Silver　Queen's　intelligence　sources　had　confirmed　for　her　the　stories；　now　four　years　old；　that　Ariane　was　four　years　dead；　had　perished　with　some　band　of　robbers　in　an　attempt　to　plunder　the　main　hoard　of　the　Blue　Temple。　Well；　the　girl　was　better　off　that　way；　most　likely；　than　in　Red　Temple　slavery。
　Had　that　plot；　to　put　Ariane　on　the　throne　of　Yambu；　been　a　real　one？　Or　had　the　real　plot　been　to　force　her；　the　Silver　Queen；　to　get　rid　of　her　daughter；　her　one　potentially　trustworthy　ally？　Even　when　convinced　of　the　danger；　Queen　Yambu　had　been　unable　to　give　the　orders　for　her　daughter's　death。　And　besides；　the　auguries　had　threatened　the　most　horrible　consequences　for　her　royal　self　if　she　should　do　so。　In　the　end；　as　certain　of　the　auguries　appeared　to　advise；　she　had　sold　Ariane　into　Red　Temple　slavery。
　Her　own　daughter；　her　only　child。　She；　Queen　Yambu；　had　been　lost　in　her　own　hate　and　fear。。。
　Would　Amintor；　she　wondered；　if　he　had　been　with　her　then；　have　had　the　courage　to　advise　her　firmly　against　destroying　her　own　daughter？　Not；　she　thought；　once　he　knew　that　she　was　determined　on　it。
　。。。　and　now；　of　course；　in　this　pointless　cycle　of　thought；　remembrance；　and　self…recrimination；　it　was　time　for　her　to　recall　those　days　of　her　love　affair　with　the　Emperor；　before　her　triumphant　ascension　to　the　throne。　Only　rarely　since　that　triumph　had　she　felt　as　fully　alive　as　she　did　then；　in　that　time　of　continuous；　desperate　eff