uleg.thefarthestshore-第10部分

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　　But　Hare　understood。　He　clutched　at　Sparrowhawk　with　his　one　hand　and　stammered；　〃You　can　still　speak…　speak…　e　with　me；　e…〃
　　The　mage　glanced　at　Arren；　then　nodded。
　　They　went　down　by　steep　streets　into　one　of　the　valleys　between　Hort　Town's　three　hills。　The　ways　became　narrower；　darker；　quieter　as　they　descended。　The　sky　was　a　pale　strip　between　the　overhanging　eaves；　and　the　house　walls　to　either　hand　were　dank。　At　the　bottom　of　the　gorge　a　stream　ran；　stinking　like　an　open　sewer；　between　arched　bridges；　houses　crowded　along　the　banks。　Into　the　dark　doorway　of　one　of　these　houses　Hare　turned　aside；　vanishing　like　a　candle　blown　out。　They　followed　him。
　　The　unlit　stairs　creaked　and　swayed　under　their　feet。　At　the　head　of　the　stairs　Hare　pushed　open　a　door；　and　they　could　see　where　they　were：　an　empty　room　with　a　strawstuffed　mattress　in　one　corner　and　one　unglazed；　shuttered　window　that　let　in　a　little　dusty　light。
　　Hare　turned　to　face　Sparrowhawk　and　caught　at　his　arm　again。　His　lips　worked。　He　said　at　last；　stammering；　〃Dragon。。。　dragon。。。〃
　　Sparrowhawk　returned　his　look　steadily；　saying　nothing。
　　〃I　cannot　speak；〃　Hare　said；　and　he　let　go　his　hold　on　Sparrowhawk's　arm　and　crouched　down　on　the　empty　floor；　weeping。
　　The　mage　knelt　by　him　and　spoke　to　him　softly　in　the　Old　Speech。　Arren　stood　by　the　shut　door；　his　hand　on　his　knife…hilt。　The　grey　light　and　the　dusty　room；　the　two　kneeling　figures；　the　soft；　strange　sound　of　the　mage's　voice　speaking　the　language　of　the　dragons；　all　came　together　as　does　a　dream；　having　no　relation　to　what　happens　outside　it　or　to　time　passing。
　　Slowly　Hare　stood　up。　He　dusted　his　knees　with　his　single　hand　and　hid　the　maimed　arm　behind　his　back。　He　looked　around　him；　looked　at　Arren；　he　was　seeing　what　he　looked　at　now。　He　turned　away　presently　and　sat　down　on　his　mattress。　Arren　remained　standing；　on　guard；　but；　with　the　simplicity　of　one　whose　childhood　had　been　totally　without　furnishings；　Sparrowhawk　sat　down　cross…legged　on　the　bare　floor。　〃Tell　me　how　you　lost　your　craft　and　the　language　of　your　craft；〃　he　said。
　　Hare　did　not　answer　for　a　while。　He　began　to　beat　his　mutilated　arm　against　his　thigh　in　a　restless；　jerky　way；　and　at　last　he　said；　forcing　the　words　out　in　bursts；　〃They　cut　off　my　hand。　I　can't　weave　the　spells。　They　cut　off　my　hand。　The　blood　ran　out；　ran　dry。〃
　　〃But　that　was　after　you'd　lost　your　power；　Hare；　or　else　they　could　not　have　done　it。〃
　　〃Power。。。〃
　　〃Power　over　the　winds　and　the　waves　and　men。　You　called　them　by　their　names　and　they　obeyed　you。　〃
　　〃Yes。　I　remember　being　alive；〃　the　man　said　in　a　soft；　hoarse　voice。　〃And　I　knew　the　words　and　the　names。。。〃
　　〃Are　you　dead　now？〃
　　〃No。　Alive。　Alive。　Only　once　I　was　a　dragon。。。　I'm　not　dead。　I　sleep　sometimes。　Sleep　es　very　close　to　death；　everyone　knows　that。　The　dead　walk　in　dreams；　everyone　knows　that。　They　e　to　you　alive；　and　they　say　things。　They　walk　out　of　death　into　the　dreams。　There's　a　way。　And　if　you　go　on　far　enough　there's　a　way　back　all　the　way。　All　the　way。　You　can　find　it　if　you　know　where　to　look。　And　if　you're　willing　to　pay　the　price。〃
　　〃What　price　is　that？〃　Sparrowhawk's　voice　floated　on　the　dim　air　like　the　shadow　of　a　falling　leaf。
　　〃Life…　what　else？　What　can　you　buy　life　with；　but　life？〃　Hare　rocked　back　and　forth　on　his　pallet；　a　cunning；　uncanny　brightness　in　his　eyes。　〃You　see；〃　he　said；　〃they　can　cut　off　my　hand。　They　can　cut　off　my　head。　It　doesn't　matter。　I　can　find　the　way　back。　I　know　where　to　look。　Only　men　of　power　can　go　there。〃
　　〃Wizards；　you　mean？〃
　　〃Yes。〃　Hare　hesitated；　seeming　to　attempt　the　word　several　times；　he　could　not　say　it。　〃Men　of　power；〃　he　repeated。　〃And　they　must…　and　they　must　give　it　up。　Pay。〃
　　Then　he　fell　sullen；　as　if　the　word　〃pay〃　had　at　last　roused　associations；　and　he　had　realized　that　he　was　giving　information　away　instead　of　selling　it。　Nothing　more　could　be　got　from　him；　not　even　the　hints　and　stammers　about　〃a　way　back〃　which　Sparrowhawk　seemed　to　find　meaningful；　and　soon　enough　the　mage　stood　up　〃Well；　half…answers　beat　no　answers；〃　he　said；　〃and　the　same　with　payment；〃　and；　deft　as　a　conjuror；　he　flipped　a　gold　piece　onto　the　pallet　in　front　of　Hare。
　　Hare　picked　it　up。　He　looked　at　it　and　Sparrowhawk　and　Arren；　with　jerky　movements　of　his　head。　〃Wait；〃　he　stammered。　As　soon　as　the　situation　changed　he　lost　his　grip　of　it　and　now　groped　miserably　after　what　he　wanted　to　say。　〃Tonight；〃　he　said　at　last。　〃Wait。　Tonight。　I　have　hazia。〃
　　〃I　don't　need　it。〃
　　〃To　show　you…　To　show　you　the　way。　Tonight。　I'll　take　you。　I'll　show　you。　You　can　get　there；　because　you。。。　you're。。。〃　He　groped　for　the　word　until　Sparrowhawk　said；　〃I　am　a　wizard。〃
　　〃Yes！　So　we　can…　we　can　get　there。　To　the　way。　When　I　dream。　In　the　dream。　See？　I'll　take　you。　You'll　go　with　me；　to　the。。。　to　the　way。〃
　　Sparrowhawk　stood；　solid　and　pondering；　in　the　middle　of　the　dim　room。　〃Maybe；〃　he　said　at　last。　〃If　we　e；　we'll　be　here　by　dark。〃　Then　he　turned　to　Arren；　who　opened　the　door　at　once；　eager　to　be　gone。
　　The　dank；　overshadowed　street　seemed　bright　as　a　garden　after　Hare's　room。　They　struck　out　for　the　upper　city　by　the　shortest　way；　a　steep　stairway　of　stone　between　ivy…grown　house　walls。　Arren　breathed　in　and　out　like　a　sea　lion…　〃Ugh！…　Are　you　going　back　there？〃
　　〃Well；　I　will；　if　I　can't　get　the　same　information　from　a　less　risky　source。　He's　likely　to　set　an　ambush　for　us。〃
　　〃But　aren't　you　defended　against　thieves　and　so　on？〃
　　〃Defended？〃　said　Sparrowhawk。　〃What　do　you　mean？　D'you　think　I　go　about　wrapped　up　in　spells　like　an　old　woman　afraid　of　the　rheumatism？　I　haven't　the　time　for　it。　I　hide　my　face　to　hide　our　quest；　that's　all。　We　can　look　out　for　each　other。　But　the　fact　is　we're　not　going　to　be　able　to　keep　out　of　danger　on　this　journey。〃
　　〃Of　course　not；〃　Arren　said　stiffly；　angry；　angered　in　his　pride。　〃I　did　not　seek　to　do　so。〃
　　〃That's　just　as　well；〃　the　mage　said；　inflexible；　and　yet　with　a　kind　of　good　humor　that　appeased　Arren's　temper。　Indeed　he　was　startled　by　his　own　anger；　he　had　never　thought　to　speak　thus　to　the　Archmage。　But　then；　this　was　and　was　not　the　Archmage；　this　Hawk　with　the　snubbed　nose　and　square；　ill…shaven　cheeks；　whose　voice　was　sometimes　one　man's　voice　and　sometimes　another's：　a　stranger；　unreliable。
　　〃Does　it　make　sense；　what　he　told　you？〃　Arren　asked；　for　he　did　not　look　forward　to　going　back　to　that　dim　room　above　the　stinking　river。　〃All　that　fiddle…faddle　about　being　alive　and　dead　and　ing　back　with　his　head　cut　off？〃
　　〃I　don't　know　if　it　makes　sense。　I　wanted　to　talk　with　a　wizard　who　had　lost　his　power。　He　says　that　he　hasn't　lost　it　but　given　it　traded　it。　For　what？　Life　for　life；　he　said。　Power　for　power。　No；　I　don't　understand　him；　but　he　is　worth　listening　to。〃
　　Sparrowhawk's　steady　reasonableness　shamed　Arren　further。　He　felt　himself　petulant　and　nervous；　like　a　child。　Hare　had　fascinated　him；　but　now　that　the　fascination　was　broken　he　felt　a　sick　disgust；　as　if　he　had　eaten　something　vile。　He　resolved　not　to　speak　again　until　he　had　controlled　his　temper。　Next　moment　he　missed　his　step　on　the　worn；　slick　stairs；　slipped；　recovered　himself　scraping　his　hands　on　the　stones。　〃Oh　curse　this　filthy　town！〃　he　broke　out　in　rage。　And　the　mage　replied　dryly；　〃No　need　to；　I　think。〃
　　There　was　indeed　something　wrong　about　Hort　Town；　wrong　in　the　very　air；　so　that　one　might　think　seriously　that　it　lay　under　a　curse；　and　yet　this　was　not　a　presence　of　any　quality；　but　rather　an　absence；　a　weakening　of　all　qualities；　like　a　sickness　that　soon　infected　the　spirit　of　any　visitor。　Even　the　warmth　of　the　afternoon　sun　was　sickly；　too　heavy　a　heat　for　March。　The　squares　and　streets　bustled　with　activity　and　business；　but　there　was　neither　order　nor　prosperity。　Goods　were　poor；　prices　high；　and　the　markets　were　unsafe　for　vendors　and　buyers　alike；　being　full　of　thieves　and　roaming　gangs。　Not　many　women　were　on　the　streets；　and　the　few　there　were　appeared　mostly　in　groups。　It　was　a　city　without　law　or　governance。　Talking　with　people；　Arren　and　Sparrowhawk　soon　learned　that　there　was　in　fact　no　council　or　mayor　or　lord　left　in　Hort　Town。　Some　of　those　who　had　used　to　rule　the　city　had　died；　and　some　had　resigned；　and　some　had　been　assassinated；　various　chiefs　lorded　it　over　various　quarters　of　the　city；　the　harbor　guardsmen　ran　the　port　and　lined　their　pockets；　and　so　on。
　　There　was　no　center　left　to　the　city。　The　people；　for　all　their　restless　activity；　seemed　purposeless。　Craftsmen　seemed　to　lack　the　will　to　work　well；　even　the　robbers　robbed　because　it　was　all　they　knew　how　to　do。　All　the　brawl　and　brightness　of　a　great　port…city　was　there；　on　the　surface；　but　all　about　the　edges　of　it　sat　the　hazia…eaters；　motionless。　And　under　the　surface；　things　did　not　seem　entirely　real；　not　even　the　faces；　the　sounds；　the　smells。　They　would　fade　from　time　to　time　during　that　long；　warm　afternoon　while　Sparrowhawk　and　Arren　walked　the　streets　and　talked　with　this　person　and　that。　They　would　fade　quite　away。　The　striped　awnings；　the　dirty　cobbles；　the　colored　walls；　and　all　the　vividness　of　being　would　be　gone；　leaving　the　city　a　dream　city；　empty　and　dreary　in　the　h