df.therunelords-第46部分

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　with　casks　of　ale；　whiskey；　and　rum。　The　chamber　must　have　reached　back　a　hundred　feet　into　the　side　of　the　hill。
　The　place　held　a　miasma　of　scentsspices　rotting；　spices　fresh；　dust　and　mold。　Gaborn　knew　he'd　found　safety。　Here　beneath　the　earth；　in　the　far　chambers　under　the　hill；　no　hunter　would　be　able　to　track　him。
　He　closed　the　great　door；　made　his　way　with　the　lantern　to　a　corner　of　the　cellar；　stacked　some　crates　to　form　a　little　hiding　place；　then　laid　Rowan　behind　them。
　He　lay　down　with　her；　warmed　her　with　his　body；　and　for　a　time　he　slept；　curled　against　her　back。
　When　he　woke；　Rowan　had　turned；　was　gazing　into　his　eyes。　He　felt　a　pressure　on　his　lips；　realized　that　she'd　just　kissed　him　awake。　She　breathed　softly。
　Rowan　had　dark　skin；　with　thick；　lustrous　black　hair　and　a　gentle；　caring　face。　She　was　not　beautiful；　he　decided；　merely　pretty。　Not　like　Iome；　or　even　Myrrima。　Both　of　those　women　were　blessed　with　endowments　that　made　them　more　than　human。　Both　of　them　had　faces　that　could　make　a　man　forget　his　name　or　haunt　him　for　years　after　a　mere　glimpse　of　them。
　She　kissed　him　again；　softly；　and　whispered；　〃Thank　you。〃
　〃For　what？〃　Gaborn　asked。
　〃For　keeping　me　warm。　For　bringing　me　with　you。〃　She　cuddled　closer；　spread　his　robe　over　them　both。　〃I've　never　felt　so。。。alive。。。as　I　do　right　now。〃　She　took　his　hand；　placed　it　on　her　cheek；　wanting　him　to　stroke　her。
　Gaborn　dared　not　do　it。　He　knew　what　she　wanted。　She'd　just　reawakened　to　the　world　of　sensation。　She　craved　his　caressthe　warmth　of　his　body；　his　touch。
　〃I。。。don't　think　I　should　do　this；〃　Gaborn　said；　and　he　rolled　away；　put　his　back　to　her。　He　felt　her　stiffen；　hurt　and　embarrassed。
　He　lay　for　a　moment；　ignoring　her；　then　reached　into　the　pocket　of　his　tunic；　pulled　out　the　book　that　King　Sylvarresta　had　given　him　earlier　in　the　day。　The　Chronicles　of　Owatt；　Emir　of　Tuulistan。
　The　lambskin　cover　on　it　was　soft　and　new。　The　ink　smelled　fresh。　Gaborn　opened　it；　fearing　he　wouldn't　be　able　to　read　the　language。　But　the　Emir　had　already　translated　it。
　On　the　cover　leaf；　in　a　broad；　strong　hand；　he'd　written；
　To　my　Beloved　Brother　in　Righteousness；　King　jas　Laren　Sylvarresta；　greetings：　It　has　been　eighteen　years　now　since　we　dined　together　at　the　oasis　near　Binya；　yet　I　think　fondly　on　you　often。　They　have　been　hard　years；　full　of　trouble。　I　give　you　one　last　gift：　this　book。
　I　beg　of　you；　show　it　only　to　those　you　trust。
　Gaborn　wondered　at　the　warning。　After　running　out　of　space　at　the　bottom　of　the　page；　the　Emir　had　not　bothered　to　sign　his　name。
　Gaborn　calmed　himself；　prepared　to　memorize　everything　in　the　hook。　With　two　endowments　of　wit；　it　was　a　daunting　task；　but　not　impossible。
　He　read　swiftly。　The　first　ten　chapters　told　of　the　Emir's　lifehis　youth；　his　marriage　and　family　connections；　details　of　laws　he　had　authored；　deeds　he　had　done。　The　next　ten　told　of　ten　battles　fought　by　Raj　Ahten；　campaigns　against　entire　royal　families。
　The　Wolf　Lord　began　destroying　the　smaller　families　of　Indhopal　first；　those　most　despised。　He　worked　not　to　take　a　castle　or　to　bankrupt　a　city；　but　to　decimate　entire　family　lines。　In　the　South；　the　code　of　honor　made　it　obligatory　to　avenge　one's　relatives。
　Among　the　horsemen　of　Deyazz；　he'd　attack　a　palace　in　one　city；　then　slay　Dedicate　horses　of　those　who　might　e　to　the　city's　aid；　while　also　taking　children　for　ransom　on　another　front。　With　multiprong　attacks；　he　overwhelmed　his　foes。
　Gaborn　quickly　saw　that　Raj　Ahten　was　a　master　of　illusion。　Always　one　could　see　the　knife　flashing　in　his　right　hand；　while　his　left　kept　busy　elsewhere。　A　small　army　might　lay　siege　to　a　king's　palace　in　one　land　while　five　others　quietly　ripped　at　the　underbelly　of　some　lord　two　kingdoms　away。
　Gaborn　studied　the　patterns　of　the　assaults。　He　grew　terrified。
　Raj　Ahten　had　taken　Castle　Sylvarresta　with　nothing　more　than　his　glamour　and　fewer　than　seven　thousand　knights　and　men…at…arms。　True；　he　brought　Invincibles；　the　heart　of　his　army。　But　it　left　many　questions　unanswered。　Raj　Ahten　had　millions　of　men　who　could　march　at　his　mand。
　Where　were　they？
　Gaborn　wondered　as　he　read。　The　tales　of　Raj　Ahten's　battles　contained　no　hidden　knowledge。　The　Emir　had　laid　bare　Raj　Ahten's　tactics；　but　a　good　spy　could　have　gleaned　as　much　information。
　Gaborn　skimmed　the　Emir's　poetry；　found　it　dull；　mere　doggerel；　each　line　ending　in　a　full　rhyme；　each　line　perfectly　metered。
　Some　poems　were　sonnets　that　enjoined　the　reader　to　seek　for　some　virtue；　in　the　way　of　poems　given　to　young　children　who　are　learning　to　read。　Yet　in　the　sonnets；　the　Emir　did　not　always　rhyme　flawlessly。　Sometimes　he　ended　in　near　rhyme；　and　on　a　swift　reading；　Gaborn　found　that　the　near　rhymes　leapt　out　at　him。
　It　was　not　until　reading　ten　pages　that　Gaborn　stumbled　on　the　first　of　these　near　rhymes；　in　an　odd　poem；　a　form　called　a　sonnet　menor。
　Now　Gaborn　focused　on　that　poem；　for　it　held　Sylvarresta's　name　in　the　title。
　A　Sonnet　for　Sylvarresta
　When　the　wind　strokes　the　desert　in　the　night；　so　that　veils　of　sand　obscure　the　starlight；　we　lie　on　pillows　by　the　fire　to　read　In　books　of　puissant　philosophy。
　Ah；　how　they　clear　the　mind；　focus　the　eye；　Of　mortal　men　who　linger；　love　and　die！
　Gaborn　rearranged　words　in　each　line；　seeing　if　he　could　form　sentences　that　might　convey　some　hidden　meaning。　He　found　nothing。
　He　wondered　at　the　words；　longed　for　the　days　when　men　from　the　North　could　have　traveled　openly　in　Indhopal。　He'd　recently　heard　a　trader　bemoan　those　times　by　saying；　〃Once　there　were　many　good　men　in　Indhopal。　Now　it　seems　they　are　all　deador　perhaps　just　frightened　into　evil。〃
　Five　poems　later；　Gaborn　came　upon　another　poem　in　the　same　form；　yet　its　near　rhymes　came　in　the　first　two　lines。
　Gaborn　thought　back　to　the　near　rhymes　in　the　previous　poem：　〃Read；　philosophy。〃　Now　the　near　rhymes　here：　〃Behind；　spine。〃
　He　thumbed　through　the　next　five　pages　quickly；　found　another　near　rhyme；　with　the　words；　〃Room；　of　dream。〃
　〃Read　philosophy　behind　spine。　Room　of　Dreams；〃　he　muttered。　His　heart　pounded。　The　teachings　that　the　Days　learned　in　the　Room　of　Dreams　were　forbidden　to　Gaborn's　kind。　Surely；　the　Days　would　destroy　this　chronicle　if　they　found　the　Emir　disseminating　such　knowledge　among　Runelords。
　Thus　the　Emir's　warning：　〃Show　it　only　to　those　whom　you　trust。〃
　Gaborn　glanced　at　the　remainder　of　the　book。　The　last　section　was　dedicated　to　philosophical　musingstreatises　on　the　〃Nature　of　a　Goodly　Prince；〃　exhorting　would…be　kings　to　mind　their　manners　and　avoid　slashing　their　father's　throats　while　waiting　for　the　old　men　to　die　off。
　The　cover；　back；　and　spine　of　the　book　were　made　of　stiff　leather；　sewn　to　a　softer　covering　of　lambskin。
　He　glanced　over　his　back。　He'd　been　reading　for　hours。　Rowan　lay　quiet；　breathing　in　the　slow　way　of　those　who　sleep。
　Gaborn　unsheathed　his　knife；　cut　the　threads　that　bound　the　cover　to　the　book。　As　he　did　so；　he　kept　fumbling；　his　hands　shook　badly。
　His　forefathers　had　wondered　at　the　teachings　in　the　House　of　Dreams　for　generations。　A　man　had　died　to　bring　this　to　Sylvarresta。　Probably　without　reason。　A　spy　knew　that　a　book　came　from　Tuulistan；　and　figured　that　it　warned　of　Raj　Ahten's　invasion　plans。　So　the　spy　had　struck　down　an　innocent　man。
　Yet　Gaborn　worriedeven　though　he　suspected　that　it　was　irrationalthat　he；　too；　would　be　killed；　if　the　Days　ever　learned　he'd　read　these　teachings。
　From　inside　the　back　cover　dropped　five　thin　sheets　of　paper　with　a　small　diagram　and　the　following　note：
　My　Dear　Sylvarresta：
　You　remember　at　Binya；　when　we　discussed　those　men　who　revolted　against　me；　for　they　said　I　stole　their　wells　to　water　my　cattle？　I　had　been　taught　that　as　prince；　all　the　land　in　my　realm　belonged　to　me；　as　did　the　people　on　it。　These　things　were　my　birthright；　granted　by　the　Powers。　So　I　planned　to　punish　the　men　for　their　theft。
　But　you　enjoined　me　to　slaughter　my　cattle　instead；　for　you　said　that　every　man　is　lord　of　his　own　land；　and　that　the　lives　of　my　cattle　should　serve　my　people；　not　my　people　the　cattle。　You　said　that　Runelords　could　rule　only　if　our　people　loved　and　served　us。　We　rule　at　their　whim。
　Your　views　seemed　wonderfully　exotic；　but　I　bowed　to　your　wisdom。　I　have　spent　years　since　considering　the　nature　of　what　is　just　and　what　is　unjust。
　We　both　have　heard　forbidden　fragments　of　doctrine　from　the　Room　of　Dreams；　but　recently　I　learned　something　most　secret　from　that　place。　I　give　you　this　diagram　for　your　instruction：
　The　Three　Domains　of　Man
　In　the　Room　of　Dreams；　the　Days　are　taught　that　even　the　ugliest　sparrow　knows　itself　to　be　a　lord　of　the　skies；　and　knows　in　its　heart　that　it　owns　all　it　surveys。
　They　teach　in　the　room　that　every　man　is　the　same。　Every　man　defines　himself　as　a　lord　unto　himself；　and　inherits　a　birthright　of　three　Domains：　the　Visible　Domain　of　things　we　can　see　and　touch；　the　munal　Domain　made　up　of　our　relationships　with　others；　and　the　Invisible　Domainterritories　we　cannot　see；　but　which　we　actively　protect　nonetheless。
　While　some　men　teach　that　good　and　evil　are　defined　by　the　Powers　or　by　wise　kings　in　authority；