rj.acrownofswords-第137部分

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joy　looking　at；　he　might　have　been　insulted　if　she　had　…　and　she　was　a　hero　out　of　legend　whom　he　still　half…expected　to　leap　over　a　house　and　grab　a　couple　of　the　Forsaken　by　the　neck　on　the　way。　But　that　was　not　it：　He　would　as　soon　have　thought　of　kissing　Nalesean。　The　same　as　the　Tairen；　just　exactly　the　same　as；　he　liked　Birgitte。
　　　Two　days　on　that　bench；　up　and　down　to　trot　down　the　alley　beside　the　dyer　and　stare　at　the　tall　wall　of　bare　brick　at　the　back　of　the　house's　garden。　Birgitte　could　have　climbed　it；　but　even　she　might　have　broken　her　neck　if　she　tried　wearing　a　dress。　Three　times　he　decided　on　the　spur　of　the　moment　to　follow　a　woman　ing　out　of　the　house；　two　wearing　the　red　belt　of　a　Wise　Woman。　Random　chance　did　seem　to　invoke　his　luck。　One　of　the　Wise　Women　went　around　the　corner　and　bought　a　bunch　of　shriveled　turnips　before　going　back；　the　other　walked　two　streets　over　to　buy　a　pair　of　big；　green…striped　fish。　The　third　woman；　tall　and　dark　in　neat　gray　wool；　maybe　a　Tairen；　crossed　two　bridges　before　entering　a　large　shop　where　she　was　greeted　with　smiles　by　a　skinny　bowing　fellow　and　began　supervising　the　loading　of　lacquered　boxes　and　trays　into　sawdust…filled　baskets　that　were　then　loaded　into　a　wagon。　By　what　he　heard；　she　hoped　to　fetch　a　pretty　piece　of　silver　with　them　in　Andor。　Mat　barely　managed　to　escape　without　buying　a　box。　So　much　for　random　luck。
　　　No　one　else　had　any　either。　Nynaeve　and　Elayne　and　Aviendha　made　their　pilgrimages　to　the　streets　around　Carridin's　small　palace　without　seeing　anyone　they　recognized；　which　frustrated　them　no　end。　They　still　refused　to　say　who；　it　hardly　mattered；　since　the　people　were　not　to　be　seen。　That　was　what　they　said；　showing　him　enough　teeth　for　six　women。　The　grimaces　were　supposed　to　be　smiles；　he　thought。　It　was　a　shame　Aviendha　seemed　to　have　fallen　in　with　the　other　two　so　thoroughly；　but　there　was　a　moment　when　he　was　pressing　them　for　an　answer；　and　Elayne　snapped　at　him；　staring　down　her　nose；　and　the　Aiel　woman　whispered　something　in　her　ear。
　　　〃Forgive　me；　Mat；〃　Elayne　said　earnestly；　her　face　going　so　red　her　hair　seemed　to　pale。　〃I　humbly　beg　pardon　for　speaking　so。　I。。。　will　beg　on　my　knees；　if　you　wish。〃　No　surprise　that　her　voice　faltered　at　the　end。
　　　〃No　need　for　that；〃　he　said　faintly；　trying　not　to　goggle。　〃You're　forgiven；　it　was　nothing。〃　The　oddest　thing；　though；　Elayne　looked　at　Aviendha　the　whole　time　she　spoke　to　him　and　did　not　twitch　an　eyelid　when　he　replied；　but　she　heaved　a　great　sigh　of　relief　when　Aviendha　nodded。　Women　were　just　strange。
　　　Thom　reported　that　Carridin　gave　to　beggars　frequently；　and　aside　from　that；　every　scrap　of　word　about　him　in　Ebou　Dar　was　the　kind　to　be　expected；　depending　on　whether　the　speaker　thought　Whitecloaks　were　murderous　monsters　or　the　true　saviors　of　the　world。　Juilin　learned　that　Carridin　had　purchased　a　plan　of　the　Tarasin　Palace；　which　might　indicate　some　Whitecloak　intention　toward　Ebou　Dar　and　might　indicate　that　Pedron　Niall　wanted　a　palace　for　himself　and　intended　to　copy　the　Tarasin。　If　he　still　lived；　rumors　had　sprung　up　in　the　city　that　he　was　dead；　but　then；　half　said　Aes　Sedai　had　killed　him　and　half　said　Rand　had；　which　showed　their　worth。　Neither　Juilin　or　Thom　had　scuffed　up　a　pebble　concerning　a　white…haired　old　man　with　a　much…worn　face。
　　　Frustration　with　Carridin；　frustration　with　watching　the　bloody　house；　and　as　far　as　the　palace　went。。。
　　　Mat　found　out　how　things　were　to　go　that　first　night　when　he　finally　got　back　to　his　rooms。　Olver　was　there；　already　fed　and　curled　up　in　a　chair　with　The　Travels　of　Jain　Farstrider　by　the　light　of　the　stand…lamps；　and　not　at　all　upset　over　being　moved　out　of　his　own　room。　Madic　had　been　as　good　as　his　word；　as　good　as　the　gold　he　stuffed　in　his　pouch；　anyway。　The　sulking　room　now　held　Olver's　bed。　Just　let　Tylin　try　anything　with　a　child　watching　her！　The　Queen　had　not　been　idle　either；　though。　He　sneaked　down　to　the　kitchens　like　a　fox；　slipping　from　corner　to　corner；　flashing　down　stairs　…　and　found　there　was　no　food　to　be　had。
　　　Oh；　the　smell　of　cooking　permeated　the　air；　roasts　turning　on　spits　in　the　big　fireplaces；　pots　bubbling　atop　the　white…tiled　stoves；　and　cooks　kept　popping　open　ovens　to　prod　this　or　that。　There　was　just　no　food　for　Mat　Cauthon。　Smiling　women　in　pristine　white　aprons　ignored　his　own　smiles　and　put　themselves　in　his　way　so　he　could　not　get　near　the　sources　of　those　wonderful　smells。　They　smiled　and　rapped　his　knuckles　when　he　tried　to　snatch　a　loaf　of　bread　or　just　a　bit　of　honey…glazed　turnip。　They　smiled　and　told　him　he　must　not　spoil　his　appetite　if　he　was　to　eat　with　the　Queen。　They　knew。　Every　last　one　of　them　knew！　His　own　blushes　as　much　as　anything　else　drove　him　back　to　his　rooms；　bitterly　regretting　that　odorous　fish　at　midday。　He　locked　the　door　behind　him。　A　woman　who　would　starve　a　man　might　try　anything。
　　　He　was　lying　on　a　green　silk　carpet　playing　Snakes　and　Foxes　with　Olver　when　the　second　note　was　slipped　under　his　door。
　　　
　　　I　have　been　told　it　is　more　sporting　to　take　a　pigeon　on　the　wing；　to　watch　it　flutter；　but　sooner　or　later；　a　hungry　bird　will　fly　to　the　hand。
　　　
　　　〃What　is　it；　Mat？〃　Olver　asked。
　　　〃Nothing。〃　Mat　crumpled　the　note。　〃Another　game？〃
　　　〃Oh；　yes。〃　The　boy　would　play　the　fool　game　all　day；　given　a　chance。　〃Mat；　did　you　try　any　of　that　ham　they　cooked　tonight？　I　never　tasted　anything　…　〃
　　　〃Just　throw　the　dice；　Olver。　Just　throw　the　bloody　dice。〃
　　　ing　back　for　his　third　night　in　the　palace；　he　bought　bread　and　olives　and　ewe's　milk　cheese　on　the　way；　which　was　just　as　well。　The　kitchen　still　had　its　orders。　The　bloody　women　actually　laughed　out　loud　while　they　wafted　steaming　platters　of　meats　and　fishes　just　beyond　his　reach　and　told　him　not　to　spoil　his　bloody　appetite。
　　　He　maintained　his　dignity。　He　did　not　grab　a　platter　and　run。　He　made　his　finest　leg；　flourishing　an　imaginary　cloak。　〃Gracious　ladies；　your　warmth　and　hospitality　overwhelm　me。〃
　　　His　withdrawal　would　have　gone　a　deal　better　if　one　of　the　cooks　had　not　cackled　at　his　back；　〃The　Queen　will　feast　on　roast　duckling　soon　enough；　lad。〃　Very　droll。　The　other　women　roared　so　hard；　they　must　have　been　rolling　on　the　floor。　Very　bloody　droll。
　　　Bread　and　olives　and　salty　cheese　made　a　fine　meal；　with　a　little　water　from　his　washstand　to　wash　it　down。　There　had　not　been　any　wine　punch　in　his　room　since　that　first　day。　Olver　tried　to　tell　him　about　some　sort　of　roasted　fish　with　mustard　sauce　and　raisins；　Mat　told　him　to　practice　his　reading。
　　　Nobody　slipped　a　note　under　his　door　that　night。　Nobody　rattled　the　lock。　He　began　to　think　things　might　turn　for　the　better。　Tomorrow　was　the　Festival　of　Birds。　From　what　he　had　heard　of　the　costumes　some　people　wore；　men　and　women　both；　it　might　be　possible　Tylin　would　find　herself　a　new　duckling　to　chase　after。　Somebody　might　e　out　of　that　bloody　house　across　from　the　Rose　of　the　Elbar　and　hand　him　the　bloody　Bowl　of　the　Winds。　Things　just　had　to　turn　for　the　better。
　　　When　he　woke　for　his　third　morning　in　the　Tarasin　Palace；　the　dice　were　rolling　in　his　head。
　　　
　　　
Chapter　29　
（Dragon's　Fang）　
The　Festival　of　Birds　
　　　
　　　Waking　to　the　dice；　Mat　considered　going　back　to　sleep　until　they　went　away；　but　at　last　he　got　up　feeling　grumpy。　As　if　he　did　not　have　more　than　enough　on　his　plate　already。　He　chased　Nerim　away　and　dressed　himself；　eating　the　last　of　the　bread　and　cheese　from　the　night　before　while　he　did；　then　went　to　check　on　Olver。　The　boy　flashed　between　bursts　of　yanking　on　his　clothes　in　a　hurry　to　be　out　and　stopping　entirely　with　boot　or　shirt　in　hand　to　spout　dozens　of　questions　that　Mat　answered　with　half　a　mind。　No；　they　would　not　go　racing　today；　and　never　mind　the　rich　races　at　the　Circuit　of　Heaven；　north　of　the　city。　Maybe　they　could　go　see　the　menagerie。　Yes；　Mat　would　buy　him　a　feathered　mask　for　the　festival。　If　he　ever　got　dressed。　That　sent　him　into　a　flurry。
　　　What　really　occupied　Mat's　thoughts　were　those　bloody　dice。　Why　had　they　started　up　again？　He　still　did　not　know　why　they　had　before！
　　　When　Olver