fs.thethirdbookofswords-第8部分
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nd Stonecutter； called also the Sword of Siege。 There were Doomgiver； Sightblinder； Dragonslicer； Coinspinner and Shieldbreaker and the Sword of Love； that last thrice…named； also as Woundhealer and the Sword of Mercy。
And； if any of the tales had truth in them at all； each Sword had its own unique power； capable of overwhelming all lesser magics； bestowing on its owner some chance to rule the world； or at least to speak on equal terms with those who died。。。
The older priest had carefully accepted the naked Sword from the hands of the younger； and now Denis observed with a start that the old man was now approaching him； Denis； with the heavy weapon held out before him。 Half…raised as if in some clumsy system of attack； it wobbled slightly in the elder's hands。
Even in the mild lamplight the steel gleamed breathtakingly。 And Denis thought that a sound was ing from it now； a sound like that of human breath。
Whether he was manded to hold out his wounded arm； or did so automatically； Denis could not afterwards remember。 The room was very quiet； except for the faint slow rhythmic hiss that the Sword made； as if it breathed。 The old man's thin arms； that looked as if they might never have held a weapon before in all his life； reached out。 The blade； looking keener than any razor that Denis had ever seen； steadied itself suddenly。 It moved now as if under some finer control than the visibly tremulous grip of the old priest。
And now the broad point had somehow； without even nicking flesh； inserted itself snugly underneath the tight bandage binding Denis's forearm。 The bloodstained white cloth； cut neatly； fell away； and the Sword's point touched the wound directly。 Denis； expecting pain； felt instead an intense moment of something else； a sensation unique and indescribable。 And then the Sword withdrew。
Looking down at his arm； Denis saw dried blood； but no fresh flow。 The dried； brownish stuff brushed away readily enough when he rubbed at it with his fingers。 Where the dried blood had been； he saw now a small； fresh； pink scar。 The wound looked healthy； easily a week or ten days healed。
It was at this moment； for some reason； that Denis suddenly remembered something about the man who； the legends said； had been forced to assist Vulcan in the forging of the Swords。 The stories said of that human smith that as soon as his work was done he had been deprived of his right arm by the god。
〃It is shameful； of course；〃 the elder priest was saying； 〃that we must keep it hidden so； and sneak through the night with it like criminals with their plunder。 But if we did not take precautions； then those who would put Woundhealer to an evil use would soon have it in their possession。〃
〃We will do our best；〃 the lady of the house assured him； 〃to keep it from them。〃
〃But at the moment；〃 said the master； 〃we have a problem even more immediate than that。 Sirs； if you will； bring the Sword this way with you； and quickly。 A man lies dying。〃
Denis led the way； and quickly opened the door to his own room。 The master stepped in past him； and indicated the still figure on the bed。 〃He arrived here not an hour ago； much as you see him。 And I fear he is the courier who was to have carried on what you have brought。〃
The two priests moved quickly to stand beside the bed。 The young one murmured a prayer to Draffut； God of Healing。 The first quick touch of the Sword was directly on the wound still bleeding in the side of the unconscious man。 Denis； despite his own experience of only moments ago； could not keep from wincing involuntarily。 It was hard to imagine that that keen； hard point would not draw more blood； do more harm to human flesh already injured。 But the slow red ooze from the wound； instead of increasing； dried up immediately。 As the Sword moved away； the packing that Denis had put into the wound pulled out with it。 The cloth hung there； stuck by dried blood to the skin。
Feeling a sense of unreality； Denis passed his hand over his eyes。
Now the Sword； still in the hands of Ardneh's elder servant； moved down to touch the wound on the exposed knee。 This time when the bare metal touched him； the man on the bed drew in his breath sharply； as if with some extreme and exquisite sensation； a moment later he let out a long sigh； eloquent of relief。 But his eyes did not open。
And now the tip of the Sword was being made to pass back and forth over his whole body； not quite touching him。 It paused again； briefly； right above the heart。 Denis could see how the arms of the old priest continued to tremble； as if it strained them to hold this heavy weapon … not； Denis supposed； that this Sword ought to be called a weapon。 He wondered what would happen if you swung it against an enemy。
The tip of the blade paused just once more； when it reached the scarred stump of the long…lost arm。 There it touched； and there； to Denis's fresh surprise； it did draw blood at last； a thready red trickle from the scarred flesh。 Again a gasp came from the unconscious man。
The bleeding stopped of itself； almost as quickly as it had started。 The old priest now slid the blade back into its sheath； and handed it to his assistant； who enclosed it once again within the staff of wood。
The elder's face was pale now； as if the healing might have taken something out of him。 But he did not pause to rest； bending instead to examine the man he had been treating。 Then he pulled a blanket up to the patient's chin and straightened。
〃He will recover；〃 the elder priest announced； 〃but he must rest for many days； he was nearly dead before the Sword of Mercy reached him。 Here you can provide him with the good food he needs； even so his recovery will take some time。〃
Master Courtenay told the two priests of Ardneh softly； 〃We thank you in his name … whatever that may be。 Now； will you have some food？ And then we'll find you a place to sleep。〃
The elder declined gravely。 〃Thank you； but we cannot stay； even for food。〃 He shook his head。 〃If this man was to be the next courier； as you say； I fear you will have to find a replacement for him。〃
〃We will find a way；〃 the lady said。
〃Good；〃 said the elder； and paused； frowning。 〃There is one thing more that I must tell you before we go。〃 He paused again； a longer time； as if what he had to say now required some gathering of forces。 〃The Mindsword has fallen into the hands of the Dark King。〃
An exhausted silence fell over the people in the workshop。 Denis was trying desperately to recall what the various songs and stories had to say about the weapon called the Mindsword。
There was； of course； the verse that everyone had heard：
The Mindsword spun in the dawn's gray light
And men and demons knelt down before
The Mindsword flashed in the midday bright
Gods joined the dance； and the march to war
It spun in the twilight dim as well
And gods and men marched off to…
〃Gods and demons！〃 Master Courtenay swore loudly。 His face was grave and gray； with a look that Denis had never seen on it before。
Moments later； having said their last farewells； the two white…robed men were gone。
Denis closed and barred the door behind them； and turned round。 The master of the house was standing in the middle of the workshop； with one hand on the wooden Sword…case that stood leaning there against the chimney。 He was looking it over carefully； as if it were something that he might want to buy。
The lady was back in Denis's room already； looking down at the hurt man on the bed。 Denis when he came in saw that the man was now sleeping peacefully and his color was a little better already。
Out in the main room of the shop again； Denis approached his master … whose real name； Denis was already certain； was unlikely to be Courtenay。 〃What are we going to do with the Sword now； sir？ Of course it may be none of my business。〃 It obviously had bee his business now； his real question was how they were going to deal with that fact。
His master gave him a look that said this point was appreciated。 But all he said was： 〃Even before we worry about the Sword； there's another little job that needs taking care of。 How's your arm？〃
Denis fixed it。 There was a faint residual soreness。 〃Good enough。〃
〃Good。〃 An
