rh.theassassinsapprentice-第65部分

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that　kept　me　looking　over　my　shoulder　and　scanning　the　woods　to　either　side　as　I　walked。
　　　　　　　It　was　full　dark　when　I　arrived　on　the　hillside　overlooking　Forge。　For　some　time　I　stood　looking　down　on　it；　seeking　for　any　signs　of　life；　then　I　forced　myself　to　walk　on。　The　wind　had　e　up　and　fitfully　granted　me　moonlight。　It　was　a　treacherous　boon；　as　much　deceiver　as　revealer。　It　made　shadows　move　at　the　corners　of　abandoned　houses　and　cast　sudden　reflections　that　glinted　like　knives　from　puddles　in　the　street。　But　no　one　walked　in　Forge。　The　harbor　was　empty　of　vessels；　no　smoke　rose　from　any　chimneys。　The　normal　inhabitants　had　abandoned　it　not　long　after　that　fateful　raid；　and　evidently　the　Forged　ones　had　as　well；　once　there　were　no　more　sources　of　food　or　fort　there。　The　town　had　never　really　rebuilt　itself　after　the　raid；　and　a　long　season　of　winter　storms　and　tides　had　nearly　pleted　what　the　Red…Ships　had　begun。　Only　the　harbor　looked　almost　normal；　save　for　the　empty　slips。　The　seawalls　still　curved　out　into　the　bay　like　protective　hands　cupping　the　docks。　But　there　was　nothing　left　to　protect。
　　　　　　　I　threaded　my　way　through　the　desolation　that　was　Forge。　My　skin　prickled　as　I　crept　past　sagging　doors　on　splintered　frames　in　half　burned　buildings。　It　was　a　relief　to　get　away　from　the　moldy　smell　of　the　empty　cottages　and　to　stand　on　the　wharves　overlooking　the　water。　The　road　went　right　down　to　the　docks　and　curved　along　the　cove。　A　shoulder　of　roughly　worked　stone　had　once　protected　the　road　from　the　greedy　sea；　but　a　winter　of　tides　and　storms　without　the　intervention　of　man　was　breaking　it　down。　Stones　were　working　loose；　and　the　sea's　driftwood　battering　rams；　abandoned　now　by　the　tide；　cluttered　the　beach　below。　Once　carts　of　iron　ingots　had　been　hauled　down　this　road；　to　waiting　vessels。　I　walked　along　the　seawall　and　saw　that　what　had　appeared　so　permanent　from　the　hill　above　would　withstand　perhaps　one　or　two　more　winter　seasons　without　maintenance　before　the　sea　reclaimed　it。
　　　　　　　Overhead；　stars　shone　intermittently　through　scudding　clouds。　The　evasive　moon　cloaked　and　revealed　herself　as　well；　occasionally　granting　me　glimpses　of　the　harbor。　The　shushing　of　the　waves　was　like　the　breathing　of　a　drugged　giant。　It　was　a　night　from　a　dream；　and　when　I　looked　out　over　the　water；　the　ghost　of　a　Red…Ship　cut　across　the　moonpath　as　it　put　into　Forge　harbor。　Her　hull　was　long　and　sleek；　her　masts　bare　of　canvas　as　she　came　slipping　into　the　harbor。　The　red　of　her　hull　and　prow　was　shiny　as　fresh　spilled　blood；　as　if　she　cut　through　runnels　of　blood　instead　of　salt　water。　In　the　dead　town　behind　me；　no　one　raised　a　shout　of　warning。
　　　　　　　I　stood　like　a　fool；　limned　on　the　seawall；　shivering　at　the　apparition；　until　the　creak　of　oars　and　the　silver　dripping　of　water　off　an　oar's　edge　made　the　Red…Ship　real。
　　　　　　　I　flung　myself　flat　to　the　causeway；　then　slithered　off　the　smooth　road　surface　into　the　boulders　and　driftwood　cluttered　along　the　seawall。　I　could　not　breathe　for　terror。　All　my　blood　was　in　my　head；　pounding；　and　no　air　was　in　my　lungs。　I　had　to　set　my　head　down　between　my　arms　and　close　my　eyes　to　regain　control　of　myself。　By　then　the　small　sounds　even　a　stealthy　vessel　must　make　came　faint　but　distinct　across　the　water　to　me。　A　man　cleared　his　throat；　an　oar　rattled　in　its　lock；　something　heavy　thudded　to　the　deck。　I　waited　for　a　shout　or　mand　to　betray　that　I　had　been　seen。　But　there　was　nothing。　I　lifted　my　head　cautiously；　peering　through　the　whitened　roots　of　a　driftwood　log。　All　was　still　save　the　ship　ing　closer　and　closer　as　the　rowers　brought　her　into　harbor。　Her　oars　rose　and　fell　in　near…silent　unison。
　　　　　　　Soon　I　could　hear　them　talking　in　a　language　like　ours；　but　so　harshly　spoken　I　could　barely　get　the　meaning　of　the　words。　A　man　sprang　over　the　side　with　a　line　and　floundered　ashore。　He　made　the　ship　fast　no　more　than　two　ship　lengths　away　from　where　I　lay　hidden　among　the　boulders　and　logs。　Two　others　sprang　out；　knives　in　hands；　and　scrambled　up　the　seawall。　They　ran　along　the　road　in　opposite　directions；　to　take　up　positions　as　sentries。　One　was　on　the　road　almost　directly　above　me。　I　made　myself　small　and　still。　I　held　on　to　Smithy　in　my　mind　the　way　a　child　grips　a　beloved　toy　as　protection　against　nightmares。　I　had　to　get　home　to　him；　therefore　I　must　not　be　discovered。　The　knowledge　that　I　must　do　the　first　somehow　made　the　second　seem　more　possible。
　　　　　　　Men　scrabbled　hastily　from　the　ship。　Everything　about　them　bespoke　familiarity。　I　could　not　fathom　why　they　had　put　in　here　until　I　saw　them　unloading　empty　water　casks。　The　casks　were　sent　hollowly　rolling　down　the　causeway；　and　I　remembered　the　well　I　had　passed。　The　part　of　my　mind　that　belonged　to　Chade　noted　how　well　they　knew　Forge；　to　put　in　almost　exactly　opposite　that　well。　This　was　not　the　first　time　this　ship　had　stopped　here　for　water。　〃Poison　the　well　before　you　leave；〃　he　suggested。　But　I　had　no　supplies　for　anything　like　that；　and　no　courage　to　do　anything　except　remain　hidden。
　　　　　　　Others　had　emerged　from　the　ship　and　were　stretching　their　legs。　I　overheard　an　argument　between　a　woman　and　a　man。　He　wished　permission　to　light　a　fire　with　some　of　the　driftwood；　to　roast　some　meat。　She　forbade　it；　saying　they　had　not　e　far　enough；　and　that　a　fire　would　be　too　visible。　So　they　had　raided　recently；　to　have　fresh　meat；　and　not　too　far　from　here。　She　gave　permission　for　something　else　that　I　did　not　quite　understand；　until　I　saw　them　unload　two　full　kegs。　Another　man　came　ashore　with　a　whole　ham　on　his　shoulder；　which　he　dropped　with　a　meaty　slap　onto　one　of　the　upright　kegs。　He　drew　a　knife　and　began　to　carve　off　chunks　of　it　while　another　man　broached　the　other　keg。　They　would　not　be　leaving　anytime　soon。　And　if　they　did　light　a　fire；　or　stay　until　dawn；　my　log's　shadow　would　be　no　hiding　place　at　all。　I　had　to　get　out　of　there。
　　　　　　　Through　nests　of　sandfleas　and　squiggling　piles　of　seaweed；　under　and　between　logs　and　stones；　I　dragged　my　belly　through　sand　and　pebbled　gravel。　I　swear　that　every　root　snag　caught　at　me；　and　every　shifted　slab　of　stone　blocked　my　way。　The　tide　had　changed。　The　waves　broke　noisily　against　the　rocks；　and　the　flying　spray　rode　the　wind。　I　was　soon　soaked。　I　tried　to　time　my　movement　with　the　sound　of　the　breaking　waves；　to　hide　my　small　sounds　in　theirs。　The　rocks　were　toothed　with　barnacles；　and　sand　packed　the　gouges　they　made　in　my　hands　and　knees。　My　staff　became　an　incredible　burden；　but　I　would　not　abandon　my　only　weapon。　Long　after　I　could　no　longer　see　or　hear　the　raiders；　I　dared　not　stand；　but　crept　and　huddled　still　from　stone　to　log。　At　last　I　ventured　up　onto　the　road　and　crawled　across　it。　Once　in　the　shadow　of　a　sagging　warehouse；　I　stood；　hugging　the　wall；　and　peered　about　me。
　　　　　　　All　was　silent。　I　dared　to　step　out　two　steps　onto　the　road；　but　even　there；　I　could　see　nothing　of　the　ship　or　the　sentries。　Perhaps　that　meant　they　could　not　see　me　either。　I　took　a　calming　breath。　I　quested　after　Smithy　the　way　some　men　pat　their　pouches　to　be　sure　their　coin　is　safe。　I　found　him；　but　faint　and　quiet；　his　mind　like　a　still　pool。　〃I'm　ing；〃　I　breathed；　fearful　of　stirring　him　to　any　effort。　And　I　set　forth　again。
　　　　　　　The　wind　was　relentless；　and　my　salt…wet　clothing　clung　and　chafed。　I　was　hungry；　cold；　and　tired。　My　wet　shoes　were　a　misery。　But　I　had　no　thought　of　stopping。　I　trotted　like　a　wolf；　my　eyes　continually　shifting；　my　ears　keen　for　any　sound　behind　me。　One　moment　the　road　was　empty　and　black　before　me。　In　the　next　the　darkness　had　turned　to　men。　Two　before　me；　and　when　I　spun　about；　another　behind　me。　The　slapping　waves　had　covered　the　sound　of　their　feet；　and　the　dodging　moon　offered　me　but　glimpses　of　them　as　they　closed　the　distance　around　me。　I　set　my　back　to　the　solid　wall　of　a　warehouse；　readied　my　staff；　and　waited。
　　　　　　　I　watched　them　e；　silent　and　skulking。　I　wondered　at　that；　for　why　did　they　not　raise　a　shout；　why　did　not　the　whole　crew　e　to　watch　me　taken？　But　these　men　watched　one　another　as　much　as　they　watched　me。　They　did　not　hunt　as　a　pack；　but　each　hoped　the　others　would　die　killing　me　and　leave　the　bounty　for　the　picking。　Forged　ones；　not　raiders。
　　　　　　　A　terrible　coldness　welled　up　in　me。　The　least　sound　of　a　scuffle　would　bring　the　Raiders；　I　was　sure。　So　if　the　Forged　ones　did　not　finish　me；　the　Raiders　would。　But　when　all　roads　lead　to　death；　there　is　no　point　to　running　down　any　of　them。　I　would　take　things　as　they　came。　There　were　three　of　them。　One　had　a　knife。　But　I　had　a　staff　and　was　trained　to　use　it。　They　were　thin；　ragged；　and　at　least　as　hungry　as　I；　and　as　cold。　One；　I　think；　was　the　woman　from　the　night　before。　As　they　closed　on　me；　so　silently；　I　guessed　they　were　aware　of　the　Raiders　and　feared　them　as　much　as　I　did。　It　was　not　good　to　consider　the　desperation　that　would　prompt　them　to　still　attack　me。　But　in　the　next　breath；　I　wondered　if　Forged　ones　felt　desperation　or　anything　else。　Perhaps　they　were　too　dulled　to　realize　the　danger。
　　　　　　　All　of　the　stealthy　arcane　knowledge　Chade　had　given　me；　all　of　Hod's　brutally　elegant　strategies　for　fighting　two　or　more　opponents　went　to　the　wind。　For　as　the　first