df.therunelords-第46节
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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；
