df.therunelords-第52部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

oman。
　Defiantly　now；　in　the　wooded　hills　to　the　east　and　south　and　west；　battle　horns　blared　in　a　dozen　directions；　sounding　charges；　calling　new　formations。
　Orden's　knights　still　fighting　nomen　in　the　woods。　It　would　be　a　long；　grueling　day　for　those　warriors。
　Down　at　the　city　gate；　Raj　Ahten　turned　in　his　saddle　to　look　back　over　the　fields　one　last　time；　as　if　wondering　if　he　should　ride　once　more；　then　he　entered　the　city；　and　his　men　closed　the　ruined　drawbridge。
　Life　went　on。　From　the　tower；　Iome　could　see　much　of　the　city。　Down　by　the　Soldiers'　Keep；　women　and　children　hunted　for　eggs　left　by　the　hens。　The　miller　was　grinding　wheat　by　the　river。　The　fragrance　of　cooking　fires　mingled　with　the　smoke　and　ash　of　war。　Iome's　own　stomach　felt　tight。　When　Iome　judged　that　she　had　watched　from　the　wall　long　enough；　she　went　down　to　the　bailey　in　the　Dedicates'　Keep；　her　Days　following。　Her　mother's　Days　stood　on　the　tower；　kept　watching　the　fields。
　Iome's　father　sat　in　a　shaft　of　sunlight；　playing　with　a　pup　that　snarled　and　chewed　at　his　hand。　Her　father　had　soiled　his　britches　while　Iome　stood　on　the　wall；　so　Iome　went　to　work　with　bucket　and　rag；　to　clean　her　father。　He　did　not　fight　her；　simply　stared　at　her　ruined　face；　frightened　by　her　ugliness；　not　knowing　who　she　was。
　He　was　handsome　as　ever；　with　his　endowments　of　glamour　intact。　Stronger　than　ever。　A　superman　with　the　mind　of　a　child。　While　she　washed　the　feces　off　him；　King　Sylvarresta　lay　watching　her　with　wide　eyes；　and　made　gawping　noises；　blowing　bubbles。　He　smiled　innocently　at　this　newfound　pleasure。
　Iome　nearly　broke　into　tears。　Twelve　hours。　Her　father　had　given　his　endowments　nearly　twelve　hours　ago。　This　was　a　critical　time；　this　first　daythe　worst　for　him。　Those　who　gave　greater　endowments　went　through　a　time　when　they　were　in　grave　danger。　The　facilitators　called　it　〃endowment　shock。〃　One　who　gave　wit　would　sometimes　forget　to　breathe；　or　his　heart　would　forget　how　to　beat。　But　if　he　survived　through　this　first　day；　if　he　survived　the　shock　of　the　endowment；　he　might　regain　a　small　bit　of　his　wit。　Somehow；　his　body　would　claim　a　tiny　fraction；　enough　to　survive。　At　the　moment；　Iome's　father　was　at　his　weakest；　his　most　helpless；　but　later　today　he　could　go　through　a　〃wakening；〃　a　moment　when　the　endowment　between　lord　and　vassal　became　firm；　when　he　regained　some　small　part　of　his　mind。
　Thankfully；　Iome's　father　had　suffered　none　of　the　worst　effects　of　endowment　shock。　Now　that　twelve　hours　had　passed；　she　hoped　he　might　regain　some　wit。　It　was　possibleif　he　had　not　wished　to　grant　the　endowment　with　all　his　heart；　if　the　forcible　had　not　been　perfectly　fashioned；　if　the　facilitator　had　not　chanted　his　spells　with　precisionit　was　possible　that　he　might　even　remember　her　name。
　So　Iome　sang　to　her　father　softly　as　she　finished　cleaning　and　dressing　him。　Though　he　showed　no　signs　of　recognizing　her；　he　smiled　at　her　songs。
　Even　if　he　never　remembers　who　I　am；　Iome　told　herself；　it　will　be　worth　it　to　sing。　In　time；　he　might　learn　to　love　my　singing。
　When　she　finished　changing　him；　Iome　dressed　him　with　a　cloth　diaper　beneath　his　tunic。
　The　bailey　of　the　Dedicates'　Keep　was　filled　with　ruined　men　and　women；　people　who　had　given　endowments　the　night　before。　The　influx　had　overwhelmed　the　caretakers。　As　quickly　as　Iome　and　Chemoise　finished　caring　for　their　own　fathers；　they　began　caring　for　other　menguards　who'd　faithfully　served　House　Sylvarresta　since　childhood。
　The　cooks　got　breakfast　ready；　and　Iome　carried　plates　of　blackberry…filled　pastries　among　the　Dedicates。　She　knelt　to　waken　one　young　woman　who　slept　in　the　sunlight　beneath　a　green　blanket；　a　guard　named　Cleas；　who'd　escorted　her　on　many　a　trip　into　the　hills。
　Rarely　did　women　serve　as　guards。　Even　less　rarely　did　they　serve　as　soldiers　of　the　line。　Yet　Cleas　had　done　both　in　her　life。　She　had　endowments　of　brawn　from　eight　men；　had　been　one　of　the　strongest　swordmasters　in　Sylvarresta's　service。　Raj　Ahten　had　delighted　in　taking　the　strength　from　her。　Now　Cleas　did　not　breathe。　Sometime　during　the　night；　she'd　bee　too　weak　to　draw　breath。
　Iome　hurt　at　the　sight；　did　not　know　whether　to　feel　angry　or　grateful。　With　Cleas'　death；　fifteen　people　who　had　given　her　endowments　would　have　suddenly　bee　whole；　easing　the　overcrowding　in　the　Dedicates'　Keep。　Yet　Iome　had　lost　someone　she'd　loved。　Iome's　throat　felt　tight。　She　knelt　over　Cleas；　weeping；　looked　back。　Her　Days　stood　watching。　Iome　expected　the　woman　to　be　cold　and　dispassionate　as　ever；　her　little　V　of　a　face　tight…lipped　and　empty。　Instead；　she　could　see　lines　of　sorrow　in　her　expression。
　〃She　was　a　good　woman；　a　good　warrior；〃　Iome　said。
　〃Yes；　it　is　a　terrible　waste；〃　the　Days　agreed。
　〃Will　you　help　me　get　her　to　the　tombs？〃　Iome　asked。　〃I　know　a　vault　we　can　use；　a　place　to　honor　the　guards。　We　will　place　her　with　my　mother。〃
　The　Days　nodded　weakly。　On　such　a　dark　day；　this　small　gesture　struck　Iome　powerfully。　She　felt　grateful。
　So　Iome　finished　feeding　the　Dedicates；　then　she　and　the　Days　got　a　litter；　spread　a　blanket　over　Cleas　to　use　as　a　pall；　and　carried　her　to　the　south　wall　of　the　keep；　laid　her　on　the　ground　next　to　five　other　shrouded　litters。　Four　of　those　litters　held　Dedicates　who　had　not　lived　out　the　night。
　Iome's　mother；　Venetta；　lay　under　the　last　black　burlap　shroud。　A　slim　golden　circlet；　resting　atop　her　chest；　identified　the　body　of　the　Queen。　A　black…and…white　jumping　spider　had　climbed　onto　the　circlet；　hunting　a　bluebottle　fly　that　buzzed　about。
　Iome　had　not　seen　her　mother's　face　since　her　demise；　almost　dared　not　pull　back　the　shroud　to　look　at　it。　Yet　she　had　to　see　if　her　mother's　body　had　been　properly　prepared。
　All　morning；　Iome　had　avoided　this　duty。
　Chancellor　Rodderman　had　e　in　the　night　to　tend　to　Venetta's　funeral　arrangements。　Iome　had　not　seen　him　since。　Perhaps　he　had　business　outside　the　King's　Keep；　but　Iome　suspected　that　he　had　decided　it　was　best　to　avoid　Raj　Ahten。　He　might　even　have　dodged　his　responsibilities　in　preparing　the　body。
　Raj　Ahten's　men　had　brought　the　corpse　here；　to　the　Dedicates'　Keep。　He　would　not　have　left　it　in　the　Great　Hall；　where　custom　dictated　it　be　placed　for　the　morning；　to　be　viewed　by　vassals。　The　Queen　lying　dead　on　a　pallet；　for　all　to　see；　might　engender　discord　in　the　city。
　Instead；　it　had　been　secluded　within　the　high　and　narrow　walls　of　the　most　inner　keep；　where　only　the　Dedicates　might　see。
　Iome　pulled　back　the　black　burlap　covering。
　Her　mother's　face　was　not　what　she'd　imagined。　Apart　from　the　terrible　wound；　it　was　like　gazing　into　the　face　of　a　stranger。　Her　mother　had　once　had　several　endowments　of　glamour；　had　seemed　a　great　beauty。　But　at　death　the　beauty　had　gone　out　of　her。　Unexpected　threads　of　gray　hair　were　woven　into　her　black　tresses。　The　shadows　under　her　eyes　looked　dark　and　sunken。　The　lines　on　her　soft　face　had　grown　hard　and　old。
　The　woman　on　the　pallet　had　been　cleaned；　but　nothing　could　hide　the　gash　on　the　left　side　of　her　face　where　Raj　Ahten's　signet　ring　had　torn　her　skin；　the　indentation　in　her　skull　where　her　head　had　met　the　paving　stones。
　The　woman　beneath　the　shroud　seemed　a　stranger。
　No；　Raj　Ahten　had　no　need　to　fear　the　vassals。　They　would　not　rise　up　in　outrage　at　the　death　of　this　old　thing。
　Iome　went　to　the　portcullis；　to　the　captain　of　the　guard；　a　dark　little　mustached　man　in　big　armor；　a　helm　embossed　with　silver。　It　seemed　strange　for　Ault　to　be　gone；　or　Derrow；　when　they　had　stood　under　this　stone　alcove　for　so　many　years。
　〃Sir；　I'd　like　permission　to　take　the　dead　to　the　King's　tombs；〃　Iome　said；　holding　her　breath。
　〃De　castle　is　onder　attack；〃　the　captain　said　gruffly；　his　Taifan　accent　thick。　〃Is　no　safe。〃
　Iome　fought　the　urge　to　slink　away。　She　did　not　want　to　antagonize　the　captain；　yet　she　felt　that　it　was　her　sacred　duty　to　bury　her　mother；　show　the　woman　that　one　last　act　of　dignity。　〃The　castle　isn't　under　attack；〃　Iome　tried　to　sound　reasonable；　〃only　a　few　nomen　trapped　in　the　woods　are　under　attack。〃　She　waved　her　hand　out　over　the　burned　battlefield　before　the　castle。　〃And　if　Orden　should　attack；　you　would　see　him　ing　from　half　a　mile；　and　he　would　have　to　breach　the　Outer　Wall。　No　one　is　likely　to　reach　the　Dedicates'　Keep。〃
　The　little　man　listened　intently；　his　head　cocked　to　the　side。　Iome　could　not　tell　whether　he　understood　her。　Perhaps　she'd　spoken　too　fast。　She　could　have　spoken　to　him　in　Chaltic；　but　she　doubted　he'd　understand。
　〃No；〃　the　little　man　said。
　〃Then　let　her　spirit　take　vengeance　upon　you；　for　I　am　guiltless。　I　do　not　wish　to　be　haunted　by　a　Runelord。〃
　The　little　man's　eyes　flashed　in　fear。　The　spirits　of　dead　Runelords　were　said　to　cause　more　trouble　than　mostparticularly　if　they　suffered　violent　deaths。　Though　Iome　did　not　fear　her　mother's　shade；　this　little　Taifan　captain　was　from　a　land　where　such　things　were　taken　far　more　seriously。
　〃Hurry；〃　the　little　captain　answered。　〃Now。　Go。　But　take　nothing　more　than　half　an　hour。〃
　〃Thank　you；〃　Iome　said；　reaching　out　to　touch　him　in　gratitude。　The　captain　shrank　back　from　her　touch。
　Iome　called　out　to　Chemoise；　to　her　Days。　〃Quic