rj.acrownofswords-第184部分

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ooked　like　a　boy's　despite　being　years　older　than　Mat。　Some　of　them　followed　Mat　Cauthon　because　they　thought　he　was　lucky；　because　his　luck　might　keep　them　alive　when　the　swords　were　out；　and　some　for　reasons　he　was　not　really　sure　of；　but　they　followed。　Not　even　Thom　had　ever　more　than　protested　an　order　of　his。　Maybe　Renaile　had　been　more　than　luck。　Maybe　his　being　ta'veren　did　more　than　dump　him　in　the…middle　of　trouble。　Suddenly　he　felt。。。　responsible。。。　for　these　men。　It　was　an　unfortable　feeling。　Mat　Cauthon　and　responsibility　did　not　go　together。　It　was　unnatural。
　　　〃Take　care　of　yourselves；　and　look　sharp；〃　he　said。　〃You　know　what's　out　there。　There's　a　storm　ing。〃　Now　why　had　he　said　that？　〃Move。　We're　wasting　light。〃
　　　The　wind　still　blew　strongly；　sweeping　dust　across　the　Mol　Hara　Square　with　its　statue　of　a　long…dead　queen　posing　above　the　fountain；　but　there　was　no　other　sign　of　a　storm。　Nariene　had　been　noted　for　her　honesty；　but　not　enough　to　have　been　depicted　pletely　bare…chested。　The　afternoon　sun　burned　high　in　a　sky　without　a　cloud；　but　people　rushed　through　the　square　as　quickly　as　they　had　in　the　morning　cool。　That　was　gone；　wind　or　no；　down　here　on　the　ground。　The　paving　stones　seemed　a　griddle　under　his　boots。
　　　Glaring　across　the　square　at　The　Wandering　Woman；　Mat　headed　toward　the　river。　Olver　had　not　gone　off　with　the　street　urchins　half　as　often　while　they　were　staying　at　the　inn；　he　had　been　too　content　ogling　the　serving　girls　and　Setalle　Anan's　daughters。　So　much　for　the　dice　telling　him　he　had　to　move　into　the　palace。　Anything　he　had　done　since　leaving　…　anything　he　wanted　to　do；　he　amended；　thinking　of　Tylin　and　her　eyes；　and　her　hands　…　any　of　it　could　have　been　done　just　as　well　from　there。　Those　dice　spun　now；　and　he　wished　they　would　just　go　away。
　　　He　tried　to　move　quickly；　dodging　impatiently　around　trundling　carts　and　wagons；　cursing　at　lacquered　sedan　chairs　and　coaches　that　nearly　ran　him　down；　eyes　darting　in　search　of　a　red　coat　close　to　the　ground；　but　the　bustle　in　the　streets　slowed　him　to　a　meander。　Which　was　just　as　well；　in　truth。　No　point　dashing　by　the　boy　without　seeing　him。　Wishing　he　had　brought　Pips　out　of　the　palace　stables；　he　frowned　at　the　people　streaming　past；　a　man　on　horseback　could　have　moved　no　faster　in　the　throng；　but　up　in　the　saddle；　he　could　have　seen　farther。　Then　again；　asking　questions　from　a　saddle　would　have　been　awkward；　not　many　folk　actually　rode　inside　the　city；　and　some　people　had　a　tendency　to　shy　away　from　anyone　on　a　horse。
　　　Always　the　same　question。　The　first　time　he　asked　was　at　a　bridge　just　below　the　Mol　Hara；　of　a　fellow　selling　honey…baked　apples　from　a　tray　hanging　from　a　strap　around　his　neck。　〃Have　you　seen　a　boy；　about　so　high；　in　a　red　coat？〃　Olver　liked　sweets。
　　　〃Boy；　my　Lord？〃　the　fellow　said；　sucking　his　few　remaining　teeth。　〃Seen　a　thousand　boys。　Don't　remember　no　coat；　though。　Would　my　Lord　like　one　apple；　or　two？〃　He　scooped　up　two　with　bony　fingers　and　pushed　them　at　Mat；　the　way　they　gave　under　his　fingers；　they　were　softer　than　any　baking　could　account　for。　〃Did　my　Lord　hear　about　the　riot？〃
　　　〃No；〃　Mat　said　sourly；　and　pushed　on。　At　the　other　end　of　the　bridge；　he　stopped　a　plump　woman　with　a　tray　of　ribbons。　Ribbons　held　no　fascination　for　Olver；　but　her　red　petticoats　flashed　beneath　a　skirt　sewn　up　nearly　to　her　left　hip；　and　the　cut　of　her　bodice　revealed　rounded　cleavage　to　equal　Riselle's。　〃Have　you　seen　a　boy。。。？〃
　　　He　heard　about　the　riot　from　her；　too；　and　from　half　the　people　he　asked。　That　rumor；　he　suspected　had　begun　with　events　at　a　certain　house　in　the　Rahad　that　very　morning。　A　wagon　driver　with　her　long　whip　coiled　around　her　neck　even　told　him　the　riot　had　been　across　the　river；　once　she　allowed　as　how　she　never　noticed　boys　unless　they　ran　under　her　mules。　A　square…faced　man　who　sold　honeyb　…　incredibly　dry…looking　honeyb　…　said　the　riot　had　been　down　near　the　light　tower　at　the　end　of　the　Bay　Road；　on　the　eastern　side　of　the　mouth　of　the　bay；　which　was　about　as　likely　a　place　for　rioting　as　the　middle　of　the　bay　itself。　There　were　always　a　thousand　rumors　in　any　city；　if　you　listened；　and　he　was　forced　to　listen　to　snatches　of　all　of　them；　it　seemed。　One　of　the　most　remarkably　pretty　women　he　had　ever　seen；　standing　outside　a　tavern　…　Maylin　was　a　serving　girl　at　The　Old　Sheep；　but　her　only　task　seemed　to　be　standing　outside　to　attract　customers；　which　she　certainly　did　…　told　him　there　had　been　a　battle　that　morning；　in　the　Cordese　Hills　west　of　the　city；　she　thought。　Or　maybe　in　the　Rhannon　Hills；　across　the　bay。　Or　maybe。。。　Remarkably　pretty；　Maylin；　but　not　very　bright；　Olver　might　have　watched　her　for　hours；　so　long　as　she　never　opened　her　mouth。　But　she　could　not　remember　seeing　any　boy　in　a。。。　What　color　coat　had　he　said；　again？　He　heard　about　riots　and　battles；　he　heard　about　enough　strange　things　seen　in　the　sky　or　the　hills　to　populate　the　Blight。　He　heard　that　the　Dragon　Reborn　was　about　to　descend　on　the　city　with　thousands　of　men　who　could　channel；　that　the　Aiel　were　ing；　an　army　of　Aes　Sedai　…　no；　it　was　an　army　of　Whitecloaks；　Pedron　Niall　was　dead；　and　the　Children　intended　to　avenge　him；　though　why　in　Ebou　Dar　was　not　exactly　clear。　You　might　have　thought　the　city　would　be　hip…deep　in　panic　with　all　the　tales　floating　around；　but　the　fact　was；　even　those　who　told　a　tale　usually　only　half…believed　it。　So；　he　heard　all　sorts　of　nonsense；　but　not　a　word　about　any　boy　in　a　red　coat。
　　　A　few　streets　from　the　river；　he　began　hearing　thunder；　great　hollow　booms　that　seemed　to　roll　in　from　the　sea。　People　looked　up　curiously　at　the　cloudless　sky；　scratched　their　heads；　and　went　on　about　their　business。　So　did　he；　questioning　every　seller　of　sweets　or　fruit　he　saw；　and　every　pretty　woman　afoot。　All　to　no　avail。　Reaching　the　long　stone　quay　that　ran　the　whole　length　of　the　river　side　of　the　city；　he　paused；　studying　the　gray　docks　stretching　out　into　the　river　and　the　ships　tied　to　them。　The　wind　blew　strong；　heaving　vessels　at　their　mooring　lines；　grinding　them　against　the　stone　docks　despite　the　bags　stuffed　with　wool　hung　down　between　for　fenders。　Unlike　horses；　ships　did　not　interest　Olver　except　as　a　way　to　go　from　here　to　there；　and　ships　were　men's　business　in　Ebou　Dar　even　if　the　lading　they　carried　often　was　not。　Women　on　these　docks　would　either　be　merchants　keeping　an　eye　on　their　goods　or　hard…armed　members　of　the　cargo…loader's　guild；　and　there　would　be　no　sweet…sellers　here。
　　　About　to　turn　away；　he　realized　almost　no　one　was　moving。　The　docks　usually　bustled；　yet　on　every　ship　he　could　see；　crewmen　lined　the　rails　and　had　climbed　into　the　rigging　to　stare　toward　the　bay。　Barrels　and　crates　stood　abandoned　while　shirtless　men　and　wiry　women　in　green　leather　vests　crowded　together　at　the　ends　of　the　docks　to　peer　between　the　ships；　south；　toward　the　thunder。　Down　that　way；　black　smoke　rose　in　thick　towering　columns；　slanting　sharply　north　on　the　wind。
　　　Hesitating　only　a　moment；　he　trotted　out　along　the　nearest　dock。　At　first；　ships　tied　to　the　long　fingers　of　stone　to　the　south　blocked　his　view　of　anything　except　the　smoke。　Because　of　the　way　the　shoreline　lay；　though；　each　dock　stuck　out　farther　than　the　next　down；　once　he　pushed　into　the　murmuring　crowd　at　the　end；　the　broad　river　made　an　open　path　of　choppy　green　water　to　the　wave…tossed　bay。
　　　At　least　two　dozen　ships　were　burning　out　on　the　wide　expanse　of　the　bay；　maybe　more；　engulfed　in　flame　from　end　to　end。　A　number　of　others　had　already　settled；　only　a　bow　or　stern　still　above　water　and　that　sliding　under。　Even　as　he　looked；　the　bow　of　a　broad　two…masted　ship　flying　a　large　banner　of　red　and　blue　and　gold；　the　banner　of　Altara；　suddenly　flew　apart　with　a　roar；　a　boom　like　thunder；　and　fast…thickening　tendrils　of　smoke　wafted　away　on　the　wind　as　the　vessel　began　settling　by　the　head。　Hundreds　of　vessels　were　in　motion；　every　craft　in　the　bay；　three…masted　Sea　Folk　rakers　and　skimmers　and　two…masted　soarers；　coastal　ships　with　their　triangular　sails；　river　ships　under　sail　or　sweep；　some　fleeing　upriver；　most　trying　to　beat　out　to　sea。　Scores　of　other　ships　swanned　into　t