fs.thefirstbookofswords-第12部分

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　to　make　himself　stand　up；　move　his　arms　and　walk；　and　then　build　up　the　fire　again。　He　knew　it；　but　he　couldn't　seem　to　get　himself　in　motion。　Deep　in　the　middle　of　his　body　he　could　feel　a　new　kind　of　shivering；　and　now　he　was　almost　pletely　sure　that　he　was　going　to　die　tonight。　Still　the　fact　had　very　little　importance。　Get　up　and　tend　the　fire；　and　it　will　save　you。
　　　Startled；　Mark　raised　his　head；　croaked　out　a　halfformed　question。　The　words　had　e　to　him　as　if　in　someone　else's　voice；　and　with　the　force　of　a　mand。　He　could　not　recognize　the　voice；　but　it　made　a　powerful　impression。　Now；　once　he'd　moved　his　head；　the　rest　was　possible。　He　sat　up；　rubbing　his　arms　together；　preparing　himself　for　further　effort。　Now　his　arms　were　able　to　move　freely。　And　now　he　forced　himself　to　rise；　swaying　on　stiffened　knees；　but　driving　his　legs；　torso；　everything　into　activity。　Halfparalyzed　with　cold　and　stiffness　still；　he　gathered　more　wood　and　fed　the　flames　when　he　had　blown　them　back　to　life。
　　　Then；　Mark　lay　down　near　the　new　flames；　wrapping　hiself　in　the　blanket　again。　He　rubbed　his　face。　When　he　took　his　hands　down　from　his　eyes；　a　circle　of　tall；　silent　figures　was　standing　around　him　and　the　fire。　They　were　too　tall　to　be　human。　Mark；　too　numb　to　feel　any　great　shock；　looked　at　what　he　could　see　of　the　faces　of　the　gods。　He　wondered　why　he　could　not　recognize　Ardneh；　to　whom　his　mother　prayed　so　much；　among　them。
　　　One　of　the　goddesses　…　Mark　couldn't　be　sure　which　one　she　was　…　demanded　of　him：　〃Why　have　you　brought　that　sword　back　up　here；　mortal？　We　don't　want　it　here。〃
　　　〃I　brought　it　for　my　father's　sake。〃　Mark　answered　without　fear；　without　worrying　over　what　he　ought　to　say。　〃This　sword　maimed　him；　years　ago。　It's　killed　him　now。　It's　killed　my　brother；　too。　It's　driven　me　away　from　home。　It's　done　enough；　I'm　getting　rid　of　it。〃
　　　This　caused　a　stir　and　a　muttering　around　the　circle。　The　faces　of　the　gods；　shadowed　and　hard　for　Mark　to　see；　turned　to　one　another　in　consultation。　And　now　the　voice　of　a　different　deity　chided　Mark：　〃It　was　time　enough；　in　any　case；　for　you　to　be　leaving　home。　Do　you　want　to　be　a　mill…hand　and　a　rabbit…hunter　all　your　life？〃
　　　〃Yes；〃　said　Mark　immediately。　But　even　as　he　gave　the　answer；　he　wondered　if　it　were　really　true。
　　　Another　god…voice　argued　at　him：　〃The　sword　you　have　there　has　done　hardly　anything　as　yet；　as　measured　by　its　capabilities。　And　anyway；　who　are　you　to　judge　such　things？〃
　　　Another　voice　chimed　in：　〃Precisely。　That　sword　was　given　to　Jord　the　smith；　later　Jord　the　miller；　until　you；　mortal；　or　your　brother　had　it　from　him。　It's　yours　now。　But　you　can't　just　bring　it　back　here　and　be　rid　of　it　that　way。　Oh；　no。　Even　leaving　aside　the　question　of　good　manners；　we。。。〃
　　　And　another：　〃。。。cant　just　take　it　back；　now　that　it's　been　used。　You　can't　bring　a　used　gift　back。〃
　　　〃Gift？〃　That　word　brought　Mark　almost　to　midday　wakefulness。　It　came　near　making　him　jump　to　his　feet。　〃'You　say　a　gift？　When　you　took　my　father's　arm　in　payment　for　it？〃
　　　An　arm；　long　as　a　tree…limb；　pointed。　〃This　one　here　is　responsible　for　taking　the　arm。　We　didn't　tell　him　to　do　that。〃　And　the　towering　figure　standing　beside　Vulcan　（Mark　hadn't　recognized　Vulcan　till　the　instant　he　was　pointed　out）　clapped　the　Smith　on　the　back。　It　was　a　great　rude　slap　that　made　Vulcan　stagger　on　his　game　leg　and　snarl。　Then　the　speaker；　his　own　identity　still　obscure；　went　on：　〃Do　you　suppose；　young　mortal；　that　we　went　to　all　the　trouble　of　having　Clubfoot　here　make　the　swords；　make　all　twelve　of　them　for　our　game；　never　to　see　them　properly　used？　They　were　a　lot　of　trouble　to　have　made。〃
　　　For　a　game。。。　a　game？　In　outrage　Mark　cried　out：　〃I　think　I'm　dreaming　all　of　you！〃
　　　None　of　the　gods　or　goddesses　in　the　circle　thought　that　was　worth　an　answer。
　　　Mark　cried　again：　〃What　are　you　going　to　do　about　the　sword？　If　I　refuse　to　keep　it？〃
　　　〃None　of　your　business；〃　said　one　curt　voice。
　　　〃I　suppose　we'd　give　it　to　someone　else。〃
　　　〃And　anyway；　don't　speak　in　that　tone　of　voice　to　gods。。。〃
　　　〃Why　shouldn't　I　speak　any　way　I　want　to；　I'm　dreaming　you　anyway！　And　it　is　my　business　what。。。〃
　　　〃Do　you　never　dream　of　real　persons；　real　things？〃
　　　Smoke　from　the　fire　blew　into　Mark's　face。　He　choked；　and　had　to　close　his　eyes。　When　he　opened　them　again　the　circle　of　tall　beings　was　still　there；　surrounding　him。
　　　〃And；　anyway；　if　we　gods　wish　to　play　a　game；　who　are　you；　mortal；　to　object？〃　That　got　a　general　murmur　of　approval。
　　　Mark　was　still　outraged；　but　his　energy　was　failing。　His　muscles　seemed　to　be　relaxing　of　themselves。　He　lay　weakly　back　on　rock　half…warmed　by　fire。　Despite　all　he　could　do；　his　eyelids　were　sagging　shut　in　utter　weariness。　He　whispered：　〃A　game。。。　？〃
　　　A　female　voice；　that　of　a　goddess　who　had　not　spoken　until　now；　argued　softly：　〃I　say　that　this　Mark；　this　stubborn　son　of　a　stubborn　miller；　deserves　to　die　tonight　for　what　he's　done；　for　the　disrespect　he's　shown；　the　irresponsible　interference。〃
　　　〃A　miller's　son？　A　miller's　son；　you　say？〃　That；　for　some　reason；　provoked　laughter。　〃Ah；　hahaaa！。。。　anyway；　he's　protected　here　by　the　fire　that　he's　kindled；　using　magical　materials　and　tools。　Not　that　he　had　the　least　idea　of　what　he　was　doing　when　he　did　it。〃
　　　〃What　is　so　amusing？　I　still　say　that　he　must　die　tonight。　He　must。　Otherwise　I　foresee　trouble；　in　the　game　and　out　of　it；　trouble　for　us　all。〃　〃Trouble　for　yourself；　you　mean。〃
　　　And　another　new　voice：　〃Hah；　if　you　say　he　must　die；　then　I　say　he　must　live。　Whatever　your　position　is　in　this；　I　must　maintain　the　opposite。〃
　　　They're　just　like　people；　Mark　thought。　His　next　thought　was：　I'm　almost　gone；　I'm　dying。　Now　the　idea　was　not　only　acceptable；　but　brought　with　it　a　certain　feeling　of　relief。
　　　During　the　rest　of　the　night　…　his　gentle　dying　went　on　for　a　long；　long　time　…　Mark　kept　revising　…　his　opinion　of　the　wrangling　gang　of　gods　who　surrounded　him　on　his　deathbed。　Sometimes　it　seemed　to　him　that　they　were　conducting　their　debate　on　a　high　level；　using　words　of　great　wisdom。　At　these　times　he　wanted　to　make　every　effort　to　remember　what　they　said；　but　somehow　he　never　could。　At　other　times　what　they　were；　saying　struck　him　as　the　most　foolish　babble　that　he　had　ever　heard。　But　he　could　not　manage　to　retain　an　example　of　their　foolishness　either。
　　　Anyway；　he　pletely　missed　the　end　of　the　argument；　because　instead　of　dying　he　finally　awoke　to　behold　the　whole　vast　reach　of　the　sky　turning　light　above　the　great　bowl　of　rock　that　made　the　world。　The　near　rim　of　the　bowl　was　very　near　in　the　east；　almost　overhead；　while　the　northwest　portion　of　the　rim　was　far；　far　away；　no　more　than　a　little　pinkish　sawtooth　line　on　the　horizon。　And　to　the　southwest　the　rim　was　so　distant　that　it　could　not　be　seen　at　all。
　　　Mark　was　shivering　again；　or　shivering　still；　when　he　woke　up。　Now　he　was　cold　on　both　sides。　The　fire　was　nearly　out；　and　he　immediately　started　to　rebuild　it。　Somewhat　to　his　surprise；　his　body　moved　easily。　For　whatever　reason；　he　had　awakened　with　a　feeling　of　achievement；　a　sense　that　something　important　had　been　acplished　while　he　lay　before　the　fire。　Well；　for　one　thing；　his　life　had　been　preserved；　whether　by　accident　or　through　the　benevolence　of　certain　gods。　He　was　not　at　all　sure　of　the　reality　of　the　presences　he'd　seen。　There　was　no　sign　of　gods　around　him　now；　nothing　but　the　mountain　and　the　sky；　and　the　high；　keening　wind。
　　　Except　for　the　obscure　symbols　on　the　wall　of　stone；　and　the　remnants　of　that　large　and　ancient　fire。
　　　The　need　for　food　had　now　settled　deep　in　Mark's　bones；　and　he　thought；　with　the　beginning　of　fear；　that　soon　he　might　be　too　weak　to　make　his　way　back　down　the　mountain。　He　had　to　implement　his　final　decision　about　the　sword　before　that　happened；　so　as　soon　as　he　had　warmed　himself　enough　to　stop　his　shivering；　he　turned　his　back　on　his　renewed　fire　and　the　old　forge…place　of　the　gods。　Keeping　the　blanket　wrapped　around　himself；　he　slung　bow　and　quiver　on　his　back　again；　and　took　up　Townsaver。　He　carried　the　blade　as　if　he　meant　to　fight　with　it。
　　　Testing　the　wind；　he　tried　to　follow　the　smell　of　sulphur　to　where　it　was　the　strongest。　It　took　him　only　a　few　moments　to　stumble　right　against　what　he　was　looking　for；　in　the　form　of　a　chest…high　broken　column　of　black　rock。　The　middle　of　the　broad　black　stump　was　holed　out；　as　if　it　were　a　real　treestump　rotting；　and　up　out　of　the　central　cavity　there　drifted　acrid　fumes；　along　with　some　faintly　visible　smoke。　At　certain　moments　the　smoke　was　lighted　from　beneath　with　a　reddish　glow；　visible　here　at　close　range　even　in　broad　daylight。　A　breath　of　warmth　came　from　the　fumarole；　along　with　something　that　smelled　even　worse　than　sulphur；　as　foul　as　the　breath　of　some　imagined　monster。
　　　Somewhere　far　below；　the　mountain　sighed；　and　the　wave　of　rising　heat　momentarily　grew　great。
　　　Mark　lifted　the　sword。　He　used　both　hands　on　the　hilt；　just　as　his　brother　Kenn　had　held　it　with　two　hands　during　the　fight。　But　no　power　flowed　from　the　weapon　now；　and　Mark　could　do　with　it　as　he