ggk.thelionsofal-rassan-第12节

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　　Which　had　probably　done　nothing　but　add　to　the　pleasure　of　the　fiercely　pious　Muwardis　as　they　killed　innocent　men；　Jehane　thought。　She　was　standing　on　the　upstairs　landing；　one　hand　poised　to　knock　on　a　door；　a　burning　candle　in　her　other　hand。
　　For　the　first　time　in　this　long　day　she　trembled；　hesitating　there；　thinking　of　what　she　was　about　to　do。　She　saw　the　flame　waver。　There　was　a　tall　window　at　the　far　end　of　the　corridor；　overlooking　their　inner　courtyard。　The　rays　of　the　setting　sun　were　slanting　through；　reminding　her　that　time　mattered　here。
　　She　had　told　her　mother　she　would　be　leaving　later　that　night　and　had　braced　herself　for　the　fury　of　a　storm　that　never　came。
　　〃It　is　not　such　a　bad　time　to　be　out　of　this　city；〃　Eliane　had　said　calmly　after　a　moment's　thought。　She'd　looked　at　her　only　child　thoughtfully。　〃You　will　find　work　elsewhere。　Your　father　always　said　it　was　good　for　a　doctor　to　have　experience　of　different　places。〃　She'd　paused；　then　added；　without　smiling；　〃Perhaps　you'll　e　back　married。〃
　　Jehane　had　grimaced。　This　was　an　old　issue。　Nearing　her　thirtieth　year　she　was　past　prime　age　for　marrying　and　had　essentially　made　her　peace　with　that。　Eliane　had　not。
　　〃You'll　be　all　right？〃　Jehane　had　asked；　ignoring　the　last　remark。
　　〃I　don't　see　why　not；〃　her　mother　had　replied　briskly。　Then　her　stiffness　was　eased　by　the　smile　that　made　her　beautiful。　She　had　been　wed　herself；　at　twenty；　to　the　most　brilliant　man　among　the　brilliant　Kindath　munity　of　Silvenes；　in　the　days　of　the　last　bright　flowering　of　the　Khalifate。　〃What　should　I　do；　Jehane？　Fall　to　my　knees　and　clutch　your　hands；　begging　you　to　stay　and　fort　my　old　age？〃
　　〃You　aren't　old；〃　her　daughter　said　quickly。
　　〃Of　course　I　am。　And　of　course　I　won't　hold　you　back。　If　you　aren't　raising　my　grandchildren　in　a　house　around　the　corner　by　now；　I　have　only　myself　and　your　father　to　blame　for　the　way　we　brought　you　up。〃
　　〃To　think　for　myself？〃
　　〃Among　other　things。〃　The　smile　again；　unexpectedly。　〃To　try　to　think　for　almost　everyone　else；　I　fear。　I'll　pack　some　things　for　you　and　order　a　place　set　for　Husari　at　table。　Is　there　anything　he　shouldn't　eat　tonight？〃
　　Jehane　had　shaken　her　head。　Sometimes　she　found　herself　wishing　her　mother　would　give　vent　to　her　emotions；　that　there　might　be　a　storm；　after　all。　But　mostly　she　was　grateful　for　the　nearly　unbroken　control　that　Eliane　had　displayed　since　that　terrible　day　in　Cartada　four　years　ago。　She　could　guess　at　the　price　of　that　restraint。　She　could　measure　it　within　herself。　They　weren't　so　very　different；　mother　and　daughter。　Jehane　hated　to　cry；　she　regarded　it　as　a　defeat。
　　〃You'd　better　go　upstairs；〃　Eliane　had　said。
　　She　had　e　upstairs。　It　was　usually　like　this。　There　was　seldom　any　pain　in　talking　with　her　mother；　but　it　never　seemed　as　if　the　things　that　needed　to　be　said　were　said。　This　afternoon；　though；　was　not　the　time　to　be　addressing　such　matters。　Something　very　hard　was　still　to　e。
　　She　knew　that　if　she　hesitated　too　long　her　resolve　to　leave　might　yet　falter　on　this；　the　most　difficult　threshold　of　the　day；　of　all　her　days。　Jehane　knocked　twice；　as　was　her　habit；　and　entered　the　shuttered　darkness　of　her　father's　study。
　　The　candle　lent　its　necessary　glow　to　the　books　bound　in　leather　and　gold；　the　scrolls；　the　instruments　and　sky　charts；　the　artifacts　and　mementos　and　gifts　of　a　lifetime　of　study　and　travel　and　work。　Its　light　fell；　no　longer　wavering　in　her　hand；　upon　a　desk；　a　plain　northern…style　wooden　chair；　cushions　on　the　floor；　another　deep　chair…and　the　white…bearded　man　in　the　dark　blue　robe　sitting　motionless　there；　his　back　to　the　door　and　his　daughter　and　the　light。
　　Jehane　looked　at　him；　at　the　spear…like　rigidity　of　his　posture。　She　noted；　as　she　noted　every　single　day；　how　he　did　not　even　turn　his　head　to　acknowledge　her　entry　into　the　room。　She　might　as　well　not　have　entered；　with　her　light　and　the　tale　she　had　to　tell。　It　was　always　this　way；　but　this　afternoon　was　different。　She　had　e　to　say　goodbye　and；　looking　at　her　father；　the　long　sword　of　memory　lay　in　Jehane's　mind；　hard　and　bright　and　terrible　as　the　knives　the　Muwardis　must　have　used。
　　Four　years　ago；　the　fourth　son　of　King　Almalik　of　Cartada　had　been　twisted　around　his　own　birth　cord　in　the　womb　of　his　mother。　Such　infants　died　and；　almost　invariably；　the　mother　did　as　well。　Physicians　knew　the　signs　well　enough　to　be　able　to　warn　of　what　was　ing。　It　happened　often　enough；　no　blame　would　attach。　Childbirth　was　one　of　the　dangerous　things　in　the　world。　Doctors　could　not　do　the　miraculous。
　　But　Zabira　of　Cartada；　the　musician；　was　the　favored　courtesan　of　the　most　powerful　of　all　the　city…kings　in　Al…Rassan；　and　Ishak　of　Fezana　was　a　brave　and　a　brilliant　man。　After　consulting　his　charts　of　the　heavens；　and　sending　word　to　Almalik　that　what　he　was　about　to　try　offered　only　the　slimmest　hope；　Ishak　had　performed　the　only　recorded　delivery　of　a　child　through　an　incision　in　the　mother's　belly　while　preserving　the　life　of　the　mother　at　the　same　time。
　　Not　Galinus　himself；　the　source　and　fount　of　all　medical　knowledge；　not　Uzbet　al…Maurus；　not　Avenal　of　Soriyya　in　the　Asharite　homelands　of　the　east…not　one　of　them；　or　any　who　had　followed　after；　had　reported　successfully　doing　such　a　thing；　though　these　three　had　noted　the　procedure；　and　each　of　them　had　tried。
　　No；　it　was　Ishak　ben　Yonannon　of　the　Kindath　who　first　delivered　a　living　child　in　such　a　way；　in　the　palace　of　Cartada　in　Al…Rassan　in　the　second　decade　after　the　fall　of　the　Khalifate。　And　then　he　had　healed　the　mother　of　her　wound　and　tended　her　after；　so　that　she　rose　from　her　bed　one　morning；　very　pale　but　beautiful　as　ever；　to　reclaim　her　four…stringed　lute　and　take　her　accustomed　place　in　Almalik's　reception　hall　and　his　gardens　and　private　chambers。
　　For　this　act　of　courage　and　skill；　on　a　scale　never　before　known；　Almalik　of　Cartada　had　gratefully　offered　a　quantity　of　gold　and　a　gift　of　property　such　as　to　leave　Ishak　and　his　wife　and　daughter　secure　for　the　rest　of　their　lives。
　　Then　he　had　ordered　the　physician's　eyes　put　out　and　his　tongue　cut　off　at　the　root；　that　the　forbidden　sight　of　an　Asharite　woman's　nakedness　be　atoned　for；　that　no　man　might　ever　hear　a　description　of　Zabira's　milk…white　splendor　from　the　Kindath　doctor　who　had　exposed　her　to　his　cold　glance　and　his　scalpel。
　　It　was　an　act　of　mercy；　of　a　sort。　The　ordained　punishment　for　a　Jaddite　or　a　Kindath　who　feasted　lecherous　eyes　on　the　unclothed　figure　of　an　Asharite　woman　who　was　bride　or　concubine　to　another　man　was；　as　everyone　knew；　the　death　between　horses。　And　this　woman　belonged　to　a　king；　the　successor　to　khalifs；　the　Lion　of　Al…Rassan；　from　whose　presence　all　lesser　kings　fled。
　　The　wadjis；　seeing　an　opportunity；　had　begun　demanding　that　death　in　temple　and　marketplace　the　moment　the　story　of　the　birth　escaped　the　palace。　Almalik；　however；　was　genuinely　grateful　to　his　Kindath　physician。　He　had　always　disliked　the　wadjis　and　the　demands　they　made　of　him　and　he　was…by　his　own　assessment；　at　any　rate…a　generous　man。
　　Ishak　lived；　blind　and　mute；　sunken　far　into　the　stony　depths　of　an　inwardness　his　wife　and　only　child　could　not　reach。　Not　in　those　first　days；　not　after；　could　he　be　roused　to　any　response。
　　They　brought　him　home　from　Cartada　to　their　house　in　his　long…since　chosen　city　of　Fezana。　They　had　more　than　enough　to　sustain　themselves；　indeed；　by　any　measure　at　all　they　were　wealthy。　In　Silvenes；　in　Cartada；　in　his　private　practice　here；　Ishak　had　been　hugely　successful；　and　as　much　so　in　business　ventures　with　Kindath　merchants　trading　east　in　leather　and　spices。　Almalik's　last　bounty　merely　set　the　seal　on　their　worldly　success。　They　were；　it　could　have　been　said；　blessed　by　the　moons　with　great　good　fortune。
　　Jehane　bet　Ishak；　child　of　such　fortune；　walked　into　her　father's　room；　laid　her　candle　down　on　the　table　and　pulled　back　the　shutters　of　the　eastern　window。　She　pushed　open　the　window　as　well；　to　let　the　late　afternoon　trace　of　a　breeze　e　in　with　the　soft　light。　Then　she　sat　in　the　wooden　chair　at　the　table　as　was　her　habit。
　　The　book　she　was　in　the　midst　of　reading　to　Ishak…the　text　of　Merovius　on　cataracts…lay　open　by　her　elbow。　Each　afternoon；　at　the　end　of　her　day's　work；　she　would　e　into　this　room　and　tell　her　father　about　the　patients　she　had　seen；　and　then　read　aloud　from　whatever　text　she　was　studying　herself。　Sometimes　letters　came；　from　colleagues　and　friends　in　other　cities；　other　lands。　Ser　Rezzoni　wrote　several　times　a　year　from　Sorenica　in　Batiara　or　wherever　else　he　was　teaching　or　practicing。　Jehane　would　read　these　to　her　father；　as　well。
　　He　never　responded。　He　never　even　turned　his　head　towards　her。　It　had　been　so　from　the　night　he　was　marred。　She　would　tell　him　about　her　day；　read　the　letters；　read　her　texts　aloud。　She　would　kiss　him　on　the　forehead　when　she　left　to　go　down　for　dinner。　He　never　responded　to　that；　either。
　　Velaz　brought　Ishak　his　meals　in　this　room。　He　never　left　this　room。　He　would　not…unless　they　forced　him…ever　leave　this　room；　Jehane　knew。　His　voice　had　been　deep　and　beautiful　once；　his　eyes　clear　and　blue　as