rj.acrownofswords-第1部分

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nd　he　one　with　the　land。　Soul　of　fire；　heart　of　stone；　in　pride　he　conquers；　forcing　the　proud　to　yield。　He　calls　upon　the　mountains　to　kneel；　and　the　seas　to　give　way；　and　the　very　skies　to　bow。　Pray　that　the　heart　of　stone　remembers　tears；　and　the　soul　of　fire；　love。

…　From　a　much…disputed　translation　of
The　Prophecies　of　the　Dragon　by　the　poet
Kyera　Termendal　of　Shiota；　believed　to　have
been　published　between　FY　700　and　FY　800


PROLOGUE　
（Serpent　and　Wheel）
　Lightnings　
　　　
　　　From　the　tall　arched　window；　close　onto　eighty　spans　above　the　ground；　not　far　below　the　top　of　the　White　Tower；　Elaida　could　see　for　miles　beyond　Tar　Valon；　to　the　rolling　plains　and　forests　that　bordered　the　broad　River　Erinin；　running　down　from　north　and　west　before　it　divided　around　the　white　walls　of　the　great　island　city。　On　the　ground；　long　morning　shadows　must　have　been　dappling　the　city；　but　from　this　prominence　all　seemed　clear　and　bright。　Not　even　the　fabled　〃topless　towers〃　of　Cairhien　had　truly　rivaled　the　White　Tower。　Certainly　none　of　Tar　Valon's　lesser　towers　did；　for　all　that　men　spoke　far　and　wide　of　them　and　their　vaulting　sky…bridges。
　　　This　high；　an　almost　constant　breeze　lessened　the　unnatural　heat　gripping　the　world。　The　Feast　of　Lights　past；　snow　should　have　covered　the　ground　deep；　yet　the　weather　belonged　in　the　depths　of　a　hard　summer。　Another　sign　that　the　Last　Battle　approached　and　the　Dark　One　touched　the　world；　if　more　were　needed。　Elaida　did　not　let　the　heat　touch　her　even　when　she　descended；　of　course。　The　breeze　was　not　why　she　had　had　her　quarters　moved　up　here；　despite　the　inconvenience　of　so　many　stairs；　to　these　simple　rooms。
　　　Plain　russet　floor　tiles　and　white　marble　walls　decorated　by　a　few　tapestries　could　not　pare　with　the　grandeur　of　the　Amyrlin's　study　and　the　rooms　that　went　with　it　far　below。　She　still　used　those　rooms　occasionally　…　they　held　associations　with　the　power　of　the　Amyrlin　Seat　in　some　minds　…　but　she　resided　here；　and　worked　here　more　often　than　not。　For　the　view。　Not　of　city　or　river　or　forests；　though。　Of　what　was　beginning　in　the　Tower　grounds。
　　　Great　diggings　and　foundations　spread　across　what　had　been　the　Warders'　practice　yard；　tall　wooden　cranes　and　stacks　of　cut　marble　and　granite。　Masons　and　laborers　swarmed　over　the　workings　like　ants；　and　endless　streams　of　wagons　trailed　through　the　gates　onto　the　Tower　grounds；　bringing　more　stone。　To　one　side　stood　a　wooden　〃working　model；〃　as　the　masons　called　it；　big　enough　for　men　to　enter　crouching　on　their　heels　and　see　every　detail；　where　every　stone　should　go。　Most　of　the　workmen　could　not　read；　after　all　…　neither　words　nor　mason's　drawn　plans。　The　〃working　model〃　was　as　large　as　some　manor　houses。
　　　When　any　king　or　queen　had　a　palace；　why　should　the　Amyrlin　Seat　be　relegated　to　apartments　little　better　than　those　of　many　ordinary　sisters？　Her　palace　would　match　the　White　Tower　for　splendor；　and　have　a　great　spire　ten　spans　higher　than　the　Tower　itself。　The　blood　had　drained　from　the　chief　mason's　face　when　he　heard　that。　The　Tower　had　been　Ogier…built；　with　assistance　from　sisters　using　the　Power。　One　look　at　Elaida's　face；　however；　set　Master　Lerman　bowing　and　stammering　that　of　course　all　would　be　done　as　she　wished。　As　if　there　had　been　any　question。
　　　Her　mouth　tightened　with　exasperation。　She　had　wanted　Ogier　masons　again；　but　the　Ogier　were　confining　themselves　to　their　stedding　for　some　reason。　Her　summons　to　the　nearest；　Stedding　Jentoine；　in　the　Black　Hills；　had　been　met　with　refusal。　Polite；　yet　still　refusal；　without　explanation；　even　to　the　Amyrlin　Seat。　Ogier　were　reclusive　at　best。　Or　they　might　be　withdrawing　from　a　world　full　of　turmoil；　Ogier　stayed　clear　of　human　strife。
　　　Firmly　Elaida　dismissed　the　Ogier　from　her　mind。　She　prided　herself　on　separating　what　could　be　from　what　could　not。　Ogier　were　a　triviality。　They　had　no　part　in　the　world　beyond　the　cities　they　had　built　so　long　ago　and　seldom　visited　now　except　to　make　repairs。
　　　The　men　below；　crawling　beetle…like　over　the　building　site；　made　her　frown　slightly。　Construction　went　forward　by　inches。　Ogier　might　be　out　of　the　question；　yet　perhaps　the　One　Power　could　be　used　again。　Few　sisters　possessed　real　strength　in　weaving　Earth；　but　not　that　much　was　required　to　reinforce　stone；　or　bind　stone　to　stone。　Yes。　In　her　mind；　the　palace　stood　finished；　colonnaded　walks　and　great　domes　shining　with　gilt　and　that　one　spire　reaching　to　the　heavens。。。　Her　eyes　rose　to　the　cloudless　sky；　to　where　the　spire　would　peak；　and　she　let　out　a　long　sigh。　Yes。　The　orders　would　be　issued　today。
　　　The　towering　case　clock　in　the　room　behind　her　chimed　Third　Rise；　and　in　the　city　gongs　and　bells　pealed　the　hour；　the　sound　faint　here；　so　high　above。　With　a　smile；　Elaida　left　the　window；　smoothing　her　red…slashed　dress　of　cream　silk　and　adjusting　the　broad；　striped　stole　of　the　Amyrlin　Seat　on　her　shoulders。
　　　On　the　ornately　gilded　clock；　small　figures　of　gold　and　silver　and　enamel　moved　with　the　chimes。　Horned　and　snouted　Trollocs　fled　from　a　cloaked　Aes　Sedai　on　one　level；　on　another　a　man　representing　a　false　Dragon　tried　to　fend　off　silver　lightning　bolts　that　had　obviously　been　hurled　by　a　second　sister。　And　above　the　clockface；　itself　above　her　head；　a　crowned　king　and　queen　knelt　before　an　Amyrlin　Seat　in　her　enameled　stole；　with　the　Flame　of　Tar　Valon；　carved　from　a　large　moonstone；　atop　a　golden　arch　over　her　head。
　　　She　did　not　laugh　often；　but　she　could　not　help　a　quietly　pleased　chuckle　at　the　clock。　Cemaile　Sorenthaine；　raised　from　the　Gray；　had　missioned　it　dreaming　of　a　return　to　the　days　before　the　Trolloc　Wars；　when　no　ruler　held　a　throne　without　the　Tower's　approval。　Cemaile's　grand　plans　came　to　naught；　however；　as　did　Cemaile；　and　for　three　centuries　the　clock　sat　in　a　dusty　storage　room；　an　embarrassment　no　one　dared　display。　Until　Elaida。　The　Wheel　of　Time　turned。　What　was　once；　could　be　again。　Would　be　again。
　　　The　case　clock　balanced　the　door　to　her　sitting　room；　and　her　bedchamber　and　dressing　room　beyond。　Fine　tapestries；　colorful　work　from　Tear　and　Kandor　and　Arad　Doman；　with　thread…of…gold　and　thread…of…silver　glittering　among　the　merely　dyed；　hung　each　exactly　opposite　its　mate。　She　had　always　liked　order。　The　carpet　covering　most　of　the　tiles　came　from　Tarabon；　patterned　in　red　and　green　and　gold；　silk　carpets　were　the　most　precious。　In　each　corner　of　the　room　a　marble　plinth　carved　in　unpretentious　verticals　held　a　white　vase　of　fragile　Sea　Folk　porcelain　with　two　dozen　carefully　arranged　red　roses。　To　make　roses　bloom　now　required　the　One　Power；　especially　with　the　drought　and　heat；　a　worthwhile　use；　in　her　opinion。　Gilded　carving　covered　both　the　only　chair　…　no　one　sat　in　her　presence　now　…　and　the　writing　table；　but　in　the　stark　style　of　Cairhien。　A　simple　room；　really；　with　a　ceiling　barely　two　spans　high；　yet　it　would　do　until　her　palace　was　ready。　With　the　view；　it　would。
　　　The　tall　chairback　held　the　Flame　of　Tar　Valon　picked　out　in　moonstones　above　her　dark　head　as　she　sat。　Nothing　marred　the　polished　surface　of　the　table　except　for　three　boxes　of　Altaran　lacquerwork；　arranged　just　so。　Opening　the　box　covered　with　golden　hawks　among　white　clouds；　she　removed　a　slim　strip　of　thin　paper　from　atop　the　pile　of　reports　and　correspondence　inside。
　　　For　what　must　have　been　the　hundredth　time；　she　read　the　message　e　from　Cairhien　by　pigeon　twelve　days　ago。　Few　in　the　Tower　knew　of　its　existence。　None　but　she　knew　its　contents；　or　would　have　a　glimmer　of　what　it　meant　if　they　did。　The　thought　almost　made　her　laugh　again。
　　　
　　　The　ring　has　been　placed　in　the　bull's　nose。　I　expect　a　pleasant　journey　to　market。
　　　
　　　No　signature；　yet　she　needed　none。　Only　Galina　Casban　had　known　to　send　that　glorious　message。　Galina；　whom　Elaida　trusted　to　do　what　she　would　have　trusted　to　no　one　else　save　herself；　Not　that　she　trusted　anyone　fully；　but　the　head　of　the　Red　Ajah　more　than　any　other。　She　herself　had　been　raised　from　the　Red；　after　all；　and　in　many　ways　still　thought　of　herself　as　Red。
　　　
　　　The　ring　has　been　placed　in　the　bull's　nose。
　　　
　　　Ra