rh.royalassassin-第68部分

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body。　But　the　farther　I　went　from　the　Keep；　the　more　aware　I　became　of　keeping　a　grip　on　Verity。　From　a　touch　he　had　initially　imposed　on　me；　the　sharing　had　changed　to　a　mutual　effort　more　like　clasping　hands。　I　wondered　if　I　would　be　able　to　maintain　it。　Don't　think　about　it。　Just　do　it。　Even　breathing　bees　a　task　if　you　pay　attention　to　every　breath。　I　blinked　my　eyes；　suddenly　aware　that　he　was　now　in　his　study；　carrying　on　his　normal　morning　tasks。　Like　the　humming　of　faraway　bees；　I　was　aware　of　Charim　consulting　with　him　about　something。
　　　　　　　I　could　detect　no　sign　of　Nighteyes。　I　was　trying　not　to　think　about　him；　nor　look　for　him；　a　strenuous　mental　denial　that　was　fully　as　demanding　as　keeping　Verity's　consciousness　with　me。　So　quickly　had　I　bee　accustomed　to　reaching　out　for　my　wolf　and　finding　him　awaiting　my　touch　that　I　felt　isolated；　and　as　unbalanced　as　if　my　favorite　knife　were　missing　from　my　belt。　The　only　image　that　could　pletely　displace　him　from　my　mind　was　Molly's；　and　that；　too；　was　one　I　did　not　wish　to　dwell　on。　Verity　had　not　rebuked　me　for　my　actions　of　the　night　before；　but　I　knew　he　regarded　them　as　less　than　honorable。　I　had　an　uneasy　feeling　that　if　I　allowed　myself　time　to　truly　consider　all　that　had　happened；　I　would　agree　with　him。　Cowardly；　I　kept　my　mind　reined　away　from　that；　too。
　　　　　　　I　realized　I　was　putting　most　of　my　mental　effort　to　not　thinking。　I　gave　my　head　a　shake　and　opened　myself　up　to　the　day。　The　road　I　was　following　was　not　well　traveled。　It　wound　through　the　rolling　hills　behind　Buckkeep；　and　far　more　sheep　and　goats　trod　it　than　men。　Several　decades　ago　a　lightning　fire　had　cleared　it　of　trees。　The　first　growth　of　trees　on　it　was　mostly　birch　and　cottonwood；　now　standing　bare　but　for　snow　burden。　This　hilly　country　was　ill…suited　to　farming；　and　served　mostly　as　summer　pasturage　for　grazing　animals；　but　from　time　to　time　I　would　catch　a　whiff　of　wood　smoke　and　see　a　trodden　path　leading　from　the　road　to　a　woodcutter's　cottage；　or　a　trapper's　hut。　It　was　an　area　of　small；　isolated　homesteads　occupied　by　folk　of　humbler　persuasions。
　　　　　　　The　road　became　narrower；　and　the　trees　changed　as　I　entered　an　older　part　of　the　forest。　Here　the　dark　evergreens　still　stood　thick　and　crowded　close　to　the　road's　edge。　Their　trunks　were　immense；　and　beneath　their　spreading　branches　snow　lay　in　uneven　hummocks　on　the　forest　floor。　There　was　little　underbrush。　Most　of　the　year's　snowfall　was　still　up　above；　resting　on　those　thickly　needled　limbs。　It　was　easy　to　turn　Sooty　aside　from　the　trail　here。　We　traveled　under　the　snowladen　canopy　through　a　grayish　daylight。　The　day　seemed　hushed　in　the　dimness　of　the　great　trees。
　　　　　　　You　are　seeking　a　specific　place。　You　have　definite　information　as　to　where　the　Forged　ones　are？
　　　　　　　They　were　seen　on　a　certain　creek　bank；　eating　from　a　winter…killed　deer。　Just　yesterday。　I　thought　we　could　trail　them　from　there。
　　　　　　　Who　saw　them？
　　　　　　　I　hesitated。　A　friend　of　mine。　He　is　shy　of　most　folk。　But　I　have　gained　his　confidence；　and　sometimes；　when　he　sees　odd　things；　he　es　to　me　and　tells　me。
　　　　　　　Um。　I　could　sense　Verity's　reservations　as　he　considered　my　reticence。　Well。　I　shall　ask　no　more。　Some　secrets　are　necessary；　I　suppose。　I　remember　a　little　half…wit　girl　who　used　to　e　and　sit　at　my　mother's　feet。　My　mother　kept　her　clothed　and　fed　and　gave　her　trinkets　and　sweets。　No　one　ever　paid　much　attention　to　her。　But　once　I　came　upon　them　unawares；　and　heard　her　telling　my　mother　about　a　man　in　a　tavern　who　had　been　selling　pretty　necklaces　and　armbands。　Later　that　week　the　King's　guard　arrested　Rife　the　highwayman　in　the　very　same　tavern。　Quiet　folk　often　know　much。
　　　　　　　Indeed。
　　　　　　　We　rode　on　in　a　panionable　silence。　Occasionally　I　had　to　remind　myself　that　Verity　was　not　here　in　the　flesh。　But　I　begin　to　wish　I　were。　It　has　been　too　long；　boy；　since　I　rode　through　these　hills　simply　for　the　sake　of　riding。　My　life　has　bee　too　heavy　with　purpose。　I　cannot　remember　the　last　time　I　did　something　simply　because　I　wanted　to　do　it。
　　　　　　　I　was　nodding　to　his　thought　when　the　scream　shattered　the　forest　quiet。　It　was　the　wordless　cry　of　a　young　creature；　cut　off　in　midshriek；　and　before　I　could　control　myself；　I　quested　toward　it。　My　Wit　found　wordless　panic；　death　fear；　and　sudden　horror　from　Nighteyes。　I　sealed　off　my　mind　to　it；　but　turned　Sooty's　head　that　way　and　urged　her　toward　it。　Clinging　low　to　her　neck；　I　nudged　her　along　through　the　maze　of　banked　snow　and　fallen　limbs　and　clear　ground　that　was　the　forest　floor。　I　worked　my　way　up　a　hill；　never　getting　up　to　the　speed　I　suddenly　so　desperately　wanted。　I　crested　the　hill；　and　looked　down　on　a　scene　I　shall　never　be　able　to　forget。
　　　　　　　There　were　three　of　them；　raggedy　and　bearded　and　smelly。　They　snarled　and　muttered　at　each　other　as　they　fought。　They　gave　off　no　life　sense　to　my　Wit；　but　I　recognized　them　as　the　Forged　ones　that　Nighteyes　had　shown　me　the　night　before。　She　was　small；　three　perhaps；　and　the　woolly　tunic　she　wore　was　bright　yellow；　the　loving　work　of　some　mother's　hands。　They　fought　over　her　as　if　she　were　a　snared　rabbit；　dragging　on　the　limbs　of　her　little　body　in　an　angry　tug…of…war　with　no　heed　to　the　small　life　that　still　resided　in　her。　I　roared　my　fury　at　the　sight　and　drew　my　sword　just　as　one　Forged　one's　determined　jerk　on　her　neck　snapped　her　free　of　her　body。　At　my　cry；　one　of　the　men　lifted　his　head　and　turned　to　me；　his　beard　bright　with　blood。　He　had　not　waited　for　her　death　to　begin　feeding。
　　　　　　　I　kicked　Sooty　and　rode　down　on　them　like　vengeance　on　horseback。　From　the　woods　to　my　left；　Nighteyes　burst　onto　the　scene。　He　was　upon　them　before　I　was；　leaping　to　the　shoulders　of　one　and　opening　his　jaws　wide　to　set　his　teeth　into　the　back　of　the　man's　neck。　One　turned　to　me　as　I　came　down；　and　threw　up　a　useless　hand　to　shield　himself　from　my　sword。　My　blow　was　such　that　my　fine　new　blade　half　severed　his　neck　from　his　body　before　wedging　in　his　spine。　I　pulled　my　belt　knife　and　launched　myself　from　Sooty's　back　to　grapple　with　the　man　who　was　trying　to　plunge　his　knife　into　Nighteyes。　The　third　Forged　one　snatched　up　the　girl's　body　and　raced　off　into　the　woods　with　it。
　　　　　　　The　man　fought　like　a　maddened　bear；　snapping　and　stabbing　at　us　even　after　I　had　opened　up　his　belly。　His　entrails　hung　over　his　belt；　and　still　he　came　stumbling　after　us。　I　could　not　even　take　time　for　the　horror　I　felt。　Knowing　he　would　die；　I　left　him　and　we　plunged　off　after　the　one　who　had　fled。
　　　　　　　Nighteyes　was　a　befurred　gray　streak　that　undulated　up　the　hillside；　and　I　cursed　my　slow　two　legs　as　I　sped　after　him。　The　trail　was　plain；　trampled　snow　and　blood　and　the　foul　stench　of　the　creature。　My　mind　was　not　working　well。　I　swear　that　as　I　raced　up　that　hillside　I　somehow　thought　I　could　be　in　time　to　undo　her　death　and　bring　her　back。　To　make　it　have　never　happened。　It　was　an　illogical　drive　that　sped　me　on；
　　　　　　　He　had　doubled　back。　From　behind　a　great　stump　he　leaped　at　us；　flinging　the　girl's　body　at　Nighteyes　and　then　leaping　bodily　onto　me。　He　was　big　and　muscled　like　a　smithy。　Unlike　other　Forged　ones　I　had　encountered；　this　one's　size　and　strength　had　kept　him　fed　and　well　clothed。　The　boundless　anger　of　a　hunted　animal　was　his。　He　seized　me；　lifting　me　clear　off　my　feet；　and　then　fell　upon　me　with　one　knotty　forearm　crushing　my　throat。　He　landed　atop　me；　barrel　chest　on　my　back；　pinning　my；　chest　and　one　arm　to　the　earth　below　him。　I　reached　back；　to　sink　my　knife　twice　into　a　meaty　thigh。　He　roared　with　anger　and　increased　the　pressure。　He　pressed　my　face　into　the　frozen　earth。　Black　dots　spotted　my　vision；　and　Nighteyes　was　a　sudden　addition　to　the　weight　on　my　back。　I　thought　my　spine　would　snap。　Nighteyes　slashed　at　the　man's　back　with　his　fangs；　but　the　Forged　one　only　drew　his　chin　into　his　chest　and　hunched　his　shoulders　against　the　attack。　He　knew　he　was　killing　me　with　his　strangle。　Time　enough　to　deal　with　the　wolf　when　I　was　dead。
　　　　　　　The　struggle　opened　up　the　wound　on　my　neck　and　warm　blood　spilled　out。　The　added　pain　was　a　tiny　spur　to　my　struggle。　I　shook　my　head　wildly　in　his　grip；　and　the　slipperiness　of　my　own