ggk.thelionsofal-rassan-第114节

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　　One　let　the　body　rule　here；　faster　than　thought；　movements　not　even　imagined；　a　blurring　engaged　by　the　same　when　blades　met。　The　mind　floating　just　above；　out　of　the　way　except　when　it　noticed　something。　A　weakness；　a　faltering。
　　No　faltering　here　at　red　sunset。　He　hadn't　thought　there　would　be。
　　On　that　hilltop　to　the　east　there　was　love。
　　Once；　during　their　campaign　for　Ragosa；　when　they'd　lured　the　old　bandit　ibn　Hassan　into　ambushing　the　parias　party　for　them；　Jehane　had　joined　the　pany　by　the　fire　one　night；　and　had　offered　a　Kindath　song。
Who　knows　love？
Who　says　he　knows　love？
What　is　love；　tell　me。
〃I　know　love；〃
Says　the　littlest　one。
〃Love　is　like　a　tall　oak　tree。〃
〃Why　is　love　a　tall　oak　tree？　Little　one　tell　me。〃
〃Love　is　a　tree
For　the　shelter　it　gives
In　sunshine　or　in　storm。〃
　　He　stumbled　unexpectedly　as　an　attack　pushed　him　back；　swore　as　he　felt　himself　falling。　Too　careless；　distracted。　He　had　seen　that　rock；　had　thought　of　using　it。
　　Twisting　desperately；　he　released　his　shield…behind　him；　the　grip　upwards…and　blocked　his　fall　with　his　freed　left　arm；　palm　braced　hard　on　the　grass；　sword　sweeping　into　position　to　take　the　other　man's　descending　blade　and　turn　it　away。
　　He　let　himself　roll　with　the　weight　of　that　blow　to　the　necessary　place；　reclaimed　the　shield　and　was　up　again…all　in　the　same　smooth　motion。　In　time　to　blunt　the　swift　second　stroke。　Dropped　to　a　knee　then　and　slashed　across；　faster　than　he　should　have　been　able　to。　Almost　got　through　with　that　one；　almost　buried　his　sword。　Didn't。　They　were　a　match。　Both　of　them　had　known。　From　first　meeting　in　Ragosa。　That　garden　with　the　tame　stream。
Who　knows　love？
Who　says　he　knows　love？
What　is　love；　tell　me。
〃I　know　love；〃　Says　the　littlest　one。　〃Love　is　like　a　flower。〃
〃Why　is　love　a　flower？　Little　one　tell　me。〃
〃Love　is　a　flower
For　the　sweetness　it　gives
Before　it　dies　away。〃
　　It　would　have　been　pleasant；　the　thought　came　to　him；　to　be　able　to　lay　down　their　weapons　on　the　darkening　grass。　To　walk　away　from　this　place；　from　what　they　were　being　made　to　do；　past　the　ruins；　along　the　river　and　into　the　woods　beyond。　To　find　a　forest　pool；　wash　their　wounds　and　drink　from　the　cool　water　and　then　sit　beneath　the　trees；　out　of　the　wind；　silent　as　the　summer　night　came　down。
　　Not　in　this　life。
　　He　thought；　then；　of　something　he　could　do　with　his　shield。
　　
　　It　would　have　been　so　much　better　had　she　been　able　to　hate　the　man　trying　to　kill　Rodrigo。　It　was　this　man；　though；　who　had　given　the　warning　that　saved　Diego's　life。　He　hadn't　had　to　do　that。　He　was　Asharite。　He　was　now　the　mander　of　their　army；　the　ka'id。
　　But　she　had　never；　ever　heard　Rodrigo　speak　of　another　man…not　even　Raimundo；　who　had　died　so　long　ago…the　way　he'd　talked　about　Ammar　ibn　Khairan　during　the　long；　waiting　winter　just　past。　The　way　the　man　sat　a　horse；　handled　a　blade；　a　bow；　devised　strategies；　jested；　spoke　of　history；　geography；　the　properties　of　good　wine。　Even　the　way　he　wrote　poetry。
　　〃Poetry？〃　Miranda　could　remember　saying　to　this　last；　in　the　voice　she　reserved　for　her　most　withering　sarcasm。
　　Rodrigo　had　a　liking　for　verse；　an　ear　for　what　he　heard。　She　did　not；　and　he　knew　it。　He　used　to　torment　her　with　snatches　of　lyrics　in　bed。　She'd　cover　her　head　with　pillows。
　　〃Are　you　in　love　with　this　man？〃　she'd　asked　her　husband　once　in　Fezana　that　winter…more　than　half　jealous；　if　truth　were　told。
　　〃I　suppose　I　am；　in　a　way；〃　Rodrigo　had　replied　after　a　moment。　〃Isn't　it　odd？〃
　　It　wasn't；　really；　Miranda　thought；　on　that　hill　by　Silvenes。　The　low　sun　was　making　it　difficult　to　see　the　two　of　them　now。　There　were　moments　when　she　found　it　impossible　to　tell　them　apart。　She　would　have　thought　she'd　know　Rodrigo　beside　any　man　on　earth；　but　he　was　in　armor　now；　and　far　away；　a　moving　shadow　against　red　light；　and　the　two　men　would　e　together；　circle　and　turn；　very　close；　before　disengaging。　It　was　easy　to　confuse　them　in　these　movements　leading　to　a　death。
　　She　wasn't　ready　to　lose　him。　To　be　alone。
　　It　was　the　wind　that　was　bringing　tears　to　her　eyes。　She　wiped　at　them　with　the　back　of　a　hand；　glancing　sidelong　at　the　other　woman。　Jehane　bet　Ishak　stood　dry…eyed；　white…faced；　never　moving　her　gaze　from　what　was　happening　below。　Miranda　thought　suddenly：　We　have　had　our　years。　I　know　what　it　is　I　will　lose。　She　hasn't　even　had　time　to　gather　memories　against　the　dark。
　　Which　was　the　harder　loss　to　bear？　Were　there　measurements　for　such　things？　Did　it　matter？
　　〃Oh；　love；〃　she　whispered　aloud。　And　then；　to　herself；　a　prayer；　〃Do　not　leave　me　now。〃
　　In　that　moment　she　saw　one　of　them　throw　his　shield。
　　
　　She　would　never　have　thought　there　could　be　beauty　in　something　so　purely　terrifying；　but　she　ought　to　have　known；　remembering　what　they　could　do。　Both　of　them。
　　She　had　seen　them　fight…that　challenge　in　Ragosa；　the　Emin　ha'Nazar；　the　Kindath　Quarter　in　Fezana。　She　ought　to　have　expected　this。
　　Most　of　the　time；　eyes　narrowed　against　the　sun；　Jehane　could　tell　them　apart。　Not　always；　though；　as　they　overlapped　and　merged　and　broke　apart。　They　were　silhouettes　now；　no　more　than　that；　against　the　last　red　disk　of　light。
　　She　suddenly　remembered；　as　if　the　thought　had　somehow　been　given　to　her；　a　cold　night　during　that　campaign　in　the　east　for　Mazur　and　King　Badir。　She'd　heard　the　pany　singing　by　one　of　the　campfires；　to　the　sound　of　Martin's　guitar。　She　had　e　out　from　her　tent；　half　asleep；　wrapped　in　a　cloak。　They　had　made　a　place　for　her　near　the　fire。　Eventually　she　had　sung　a　tune　her　mother　used　to　sing　to　her　in　childhood；　as　Eliane's　own　mother　had　sung　it　for　her。　It　was　such　an　old　song。
　　Both　men　had　been　watching　her　from　across　the　fire　that　night；　Jehane　remembered。　A　strange　memory　now；　but　it　had　e。　She　remembered　the　night；　the　fire；　the　song。
〃Love　is　a　flower
For　the　sweetness　it　gives
Before　it　dies　away。〃
　　The　sun；　red　as　a　flame；　dropped　below　the　western　bank　of　clouds；　underlighting　them；　hanging　on　the　rim　of　the　world。　The　two　men　were　shadow…figures　against　it。　They　circled；　came　together；　circled。　She　could　truly　not　distinguish　them　now；　the　movements　were　so　much　the　same。
　　One　of　them　threw　his　shield。
　　Hurled　it　flat　like　a　discus；　wrong…handed；　straight　at　the　other's　knees。　The　other　man　leaped　to　evade；　almost　did；　was　hit；　fell　awkwardly。　Jehane　caught　her　breath。　The　first　one　drove　straight　forward；　hard；　and　they　were　locked　again；　entangled。
　　〃Rodrigo；〃　said　Miranda　suddenly。
　　The　man　without　a　shield　was　above　the　other；　who　had　fought　to　his　knees。　The　one　on　the　ground　blocked　the　descent　of　a　sword；　was　thrown　back。　Hurled　himself　pletely　over　and　away　on　the　grass；　letting　fall　his　own　shield　to　do　it。　They　engaged；　without　defenses　now；　blades　whipping　and　parrying。　One　body；　almost。　A　creature　of　myth；　some　lost；　fabulous　beast　of　long　ago。　They　pushed　apart。　Two　figures　again；　against　the　sun's　disk。
　　Jehane's　hands　were　up　before　her　mouth。　One　of　the　two　men　threw　himself　against　the　other　again。　Half　the　sun　was　gone　now；　at　the　end　of　the　world。　She　could　see　the　shields　where　they　had　fallen。
　　Someone　hammered　downwards；　was　blocked。　He　broke　free；　feinted　a　thrust；　slashed　across。
　　And　was　not　parried。　Not　this　time。
　　The　long　blade　sank　in。　They　could　see　it　from　on　the　hill。　Jehane　began　to　cry。　The　wounded　man　pulled　free　and　back；　somehow　deflected　another　driving　blow。　Then　he　twisted　suddenly；　one　arm　held　tight　against　his　ribs。　Jehane　saw　him　take　a　quick　step　to　the　side　and　grip　his　sword　in　both　hands。　It　was　upon　them。
Who　knows　love？
Who　says　he　knows　love？
What　is　love；　tell　me。
　　An　old　song。　A　child's　song。
　　And　so；　at　the　last；　from　far　away；　against　the　red　and　failing　light；　she　saw　a　good　man　raise　his　sword　and　she　saw　a　good　man　fall。
　　There　came　a　vast　roaring　sound　from　the　armies。　But　though　she　was　aware　of　this　it　seemed　already　distant　to　Jehane；　and　moving　away；　as　if　a　silence　was　descending　to　cover　the　world。
　　The　man　who　yet　stood　upright　on　the　plain　turned　towards　the　hill　where　the　women　were。　He　let　fall　his　own　blade　onto　the　dark；　trampled　grass。　Holding　a　palm　again　to　his　wounded　side；　he　made　a　gesture…a　small；　helpless　movement…with　his　free　hand。
　　Then　he　turned　away　from　them　to　the　man　lying　on　the　ground　and　he　sank　to　his　knees　beside　him　as　the　sun　went　down。
　　Soon　after　that　the　clouds　began　rolling　in　from　the　west；　blanketing　the　sky。
　　No　sun；　no　moon；　no　stars　over　Al…Rassan。
　　
Epilogue
　　The　rapid　resettlement　of　the　Kindath　munity　of　Sorenica　in　Batiara　was　something　that　could　be　regarded　in　a　number　of　different　ways。　Burned　to　the　ground　nearly　twenty　years　before；　on　the　eve　of　the　disastrous　Jaddite　campaign　against　the　Asharite　homelands　in　the　east；　Sorenica　had　been　rebuilt　and　was　thriving　again。
　　Some　viewed　this　as　a　sad　demonstration　of　the　Kindaths'　desperate　desire　for　roots　and　a　home…any　kind　of　home；　however　precarious。　Others　saw　the　speedy　restoration　of　a　devastated　city　as　emblematic　of　endurance　in　the　face　of　hardships　that　would　have　destroyed　a　people　wit