fs.thethirdbookofswords-第41部分

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　Yes。　Nine　years　ago；　or　thereabouts；　this　very　carnival　…　he　thought　…　had　been　encamped　far　from　here；　in　front　of　what　had　then　been　Sir　Andrew's　castle。　That　had　been　the　night　of　Mark's　second　encounter　with　a　Sword；　the　night　on　which　someone　had　thrust　Sightblinder　into　his　hands。。。
　One　of　the　mounted　Tasavaltan　troopers　sounded　a　low　whistle；　a　signal　meaning　that　an　enemy　had　been　sighted　nearby。　Mark　forgot　the　past　and　sprang　alertly　into　his　saddle。
　There　was　barely　time　to　grab　for　weapons　before　a　patrol　of　the　Dark　King's　cavalry　was　upon　them。　Vilkata's　troops　abandoned　stealth　when　they　saw　that　they　were　seen；　to　e　shouting　and　charging　between　the　tents　and　flimsy　shacks。
　Mark；　with　Coinspinner　raised；　met　one　mounted　attacker；　a　grizzled　veteran　who　fell　back　wide…eyed　when　he　saw　his　opponent　brandishing　a　Sword；　the　magnificent　blade　made　the　god…forged　weapons　unmistakable　even　when　the　black　hilt　with　its　identifying　symbol　was　hidden　in　a　fist。　Other　fighting　swirled　around　them。　Mark's　riding　beast　was　slightly　wounded。　He　had　to　struggle　to　control　it；　as　it　carried　him　some　little　distance　where　he　found　himself　almost　alone。　The　Sword　of　Good　Luck　could　create　certain　difficulties　for　a　leader；　even　when　it　perhaps　simultaneously　saved　his　life。　He　waved　a　signal　to　such　of　his　Tasavaltan　people　as　he　could　see；　then　rode　to　lead　them　in　a　counterattack　around　a　wooden　structure　a　little　larger　than　the　rest　of　the　carnival's　ponents。
　In　a　moment　he　discovered　that　his　troops　had　evidently　missed　or　misread　his　hand　signal；　and　he　was　for　the　moment　pletely　alone。　Swearing　by　the　anatomies　of　several　gods　and　goddesses；　he　was　wheeling　his　mount　again；　to　get　back　to　his　troops；　when　his　eye　fell　on　the　faded　legend　over　the　flimsy　building's　doorway。
　It　read：　THE　HOUSE　OF　MIRTH
　And　just　outside　the　House　of　Mirth；　a　man　was　sitting；　waiting　for　Mark。　The　man；　garbed　in　dull　colors；　sat　there　so　quietly　on　a　little　bench　that　Mark　had　ridden　past　him　once　without　even　noticing　his　presence。　Mark　was　sure　at　once　that　the　man　was　waiting　for　him；　because　he　was　looking　at　Mark　as　if　he　had　been　expecting　him　and　no　one　else。
　The　man　on　the　bench　was　pactly　built；　of　indeterminate　age；　and　wrapped　in　a　gray　cloak　of　quiet　but　now　somewhat　dusty　elegance。　His　face；　Mark　thought；　was　quite　calm　and　also　quite　ordinary；　and　he　sat　there　almost　meekly；　unarmed　but　with　a　long　empty　scabbard　at　his　belt。
　Coinspinner　pointed　straight　at　the　man。　Then　the　Sword　seemed　to　leap　and　twist　in　Mark's　hand；　and　he　could　not　retain　his　hold　upon　it。　The　man　on　the　bench　had　done　nothing　at　all　that　Mark　could　see；　but　the　Sword　of　Chance　was　no　longer　in　Mark's　grip；　and　the　scabbard　at　the　Emperor's　side　was　no　longer　empty。
　Even　apart　from　Coinspinner's　evidence；　Mark　had　not　the　least　doubt　of　who　he　was　facing。　He　had　heard　descriptions。　He　had　heard　enough　to　make　him　wonder　if；　in　spite　of　himself；　he　might　be　awed　when　this　moment　came。　But　in　fact　the　first　emotion　that　Mark　felt　was　anger；　and　his　first　words　expressed　it。　They　came　in　a　voice　that　trembled　a　little　with　his　resentment；　and　it　was　not　even　the　taking　of　the　Sword　that　made　him　angry。
　〃You　are　my　father。　So　my　mother　has　told　me。〃
　The　Emperor　gave　no　sign　of　feeling　any　anger　in　response　to　Mark's。　He　only　looked　Mark　up　and　down　and　smiled　a　little；　as　if　he　were　basically　pleased　with　what　he　saw。　Then　he　said：　〃She　told　you　truly；　Mark。　You　are　my　son。〃
　〃Return　my　Sword。　I　need　it；　and　my　troops　need　me。〃
　〃Presently；　they　are　managing　without　you　at　the　moment。〃
　Mark　started　to　get　down　from　his　riding　beast；　meaning　to　confront　the　other　even　more　closely。　But　at　the　last　moment　he　decided　to　hold　on　to　whatever　advantage　remaining　mounted　might　afford　him　…　even　though　he　suspected　that　would　be　none　at　all。
　He　accused　the　seated　man　again。　〃It　was　a　long　time　afterward；　my　mother　said；　before　she　realized　who　you　really　were。　Not　until　after　I　was　born。　You　were　masked；　when　you　took　her。　For　a　while　she　thought　you　were　Duke　Fraktin；　that　bastard。　Playing　tricks；　like　a。。。　why　did　you　do　that　to　her？　And　to　my　father？〃
　Mark　heard　his　own　voice　quiver　on　the　last　word。　Somehow　the　accusation　had　ended　more　weakly　than　it　had　begun。
　The　Emperor　answered　him　steadily。　〃I　did　it；　I　took　her　as　you　say；　because　I　wanted　to　bring　you　into　being。〃
　〃I。。。〃　It　was　difficult　to　find　the　right　words；　properly　angry　and　forceful；　to　answer　that。
　The　man　on　the　bench　added：　〃You　are　one　of　my　many　children；　Mark。　The　Imperial　blood　flows　in　your　veins。〃
　Again　Mark's　injured　riding　beast　began　to　give　him　trouble；　turning　restively　this　way　and　that。　He　worked　to　control　it；　and　told　himself　that　if　only　he　had　his　Sword　he　would　have　turned　his　back　on　this　man　and　ridden　away；　gone　back　to　join　the　fight。　But　his　Sword　was　gone。　And　now　as　soon　as　the　animal　looked　directly　at　the　Emperor　it　quieted。　It　stood　still；　facing　the　man　on　the　bench　and　trembling　faintly。
　And　is　it　going　to　be　the　same　with　me？　Will　I　be　pacified　so　easily？　Mark　wondered。　Already　his　intended　fury　at　this　man　was　weakening。
　Mark　said；　〃I　have　been　thinking　about　that；　too。　The　Imperial　blood。　If　I　have　it；　what　does　that　mean？〃
　The　Emperor　stood　up　slowly。　There　was　still　nothing　physically　impressive　or　even　distinctive　about　him。　He　was　neither　remarkably　tall　nor　short；　and；　to　Mark's　dull　senses　at　least；　he　radiated　no　aura　of　magic。　As　he　walked　the　few　paces　to　stand　beside　Mark's　trembling　mount；　he　drew　Coinspinner　and　casually　handed　it　up　to　Mark；　hilt　first。　〃You　will　need　this；　as　you　say；〃　he　remarked；　as　if　in　an　aside。
　And　then；　as　Mark　almost　dazedly　accepted　the　Sword；　the　Emperor　answered　his　question。　〃It　means；　for　one　thing；　that　you　have　the　ordering　of　demons。　More　precisely；　the　ability　to　order　them　away；　to　cast　them　out。　What　words；　what　particular　incantation　you　employ　to　do　so　matters　little。〃
　Mark　slid　Coinspinner　back　into　the　sheath　at　his　own　side。　Now　he　was　free　to　turn　and　ride　away。　But　he　did　not。　〃The　demons；　yes。。。　tell　me。　There　was　a　girl　named　Ariane；　who　was　with　me　once　in　the　Blue　Temple　dungeon。　Who　saved　me　from　a　demon　there。　Was　she。。？〃
　〃Another　of　my　children。　Yes。　Did　she　not　once　think　that　she　recognized　you　as　a　brother？〃
　〃She　did。　Yes。〃　Now　even　weak　anger　was　ebbing　swiftly；　could　not　be　called　anger　any　longer。　Now　it　had　departed。　Leaving。。。　what？
　Again　the　Emperor　was　smiling　at　him　faintly；　proudly。　〃You　are　a　fit　husband；　Mark；　for　any　Queen　on　Earth　…　or　any　Princess　either。　I　think　you　are　too　good　for　most　of　them　…　but　then　I　may　be　prejudiced。　Fathers　tend　to　be。〃　The　man　in　gray　stood　holding　on　to　Mark's　stirrup　now；　and　squinting　up　at　him。　〃There's　something　else；　isn't　there？　What　else　are　you　trying　to　ask　me？〃
　Mark　blurted　out　a　jumble　of　words；　more　or　less　connected　with　the　memorized　version　of　Princess　Kristin's　formal　request　for　an　alliance。
　〃Yes；　that's　what　she　sent　you　after　me　to　do；　isn't　it？　Well；　I　have　a　reputation　as　a　prankster；　but　I　can　be　serious。　Tell　the　Princess；　when　you　see　her；　that　she　has　an　alliance　with　me　as　long　as　she　wants　it。〃
　There　had　been　another　alliance　that　Mark　had　meant　to　ask　for。　But　it　was　too　late　now。　〃Sir　Andrew　has　just　been　killed。〃
　〃I　know　that。〃
　The　calmness　in　the　Emperor's　voice　seemed　inhuman。　Suddenly　Mark's　anger　was　not　dead　after　all。　〃He　died　not　half　a　kilometer　from　here。　If　you　would　be　our　ally；　why　aren't　you　fighting　harder　on　our　side？　Doing　more？〃
　His　father　…　it　was　suddenly　possible　now　to　think　of　this　man　also　in　those　terms　…　was　not　surprised　by　the　reproach；　or　perturbed　either。　He　let　go　the　stirrup；　and　stroked　the　riding　beast's　injured　neck。　Mark　thought　he　saw；　though　afterward　he　was　not　sure；　one　of　the　small　wounds　there　wiped　away　as　if　it　had　been　no　more　than　a　dead　leaf　fallen　on　the　skin。　Mark's　newly　acceptable　father　said；　〃When　you　are　as　old　as　I　am；　my　son；　and　able　to　understand　as　much；　then　you　can　intelligently　criticize　the　way　I　am　behaving　now。〃
　The　Emperor　stretched　himself；　a　weary　movement；　then