rh.royalassassin-第6节

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　　　　　　　There　had　not　been　that　many　sentries。　There　was　not　much　to　this　little　town；　scarce　enough　to　deserve　a　dot　on　the　map。　The　town　had　counted　on　the　humbleness　of　its　possessions　to　shelter　it　from　raids　such　as　this。　Good　wool　they　grew　there；　and　they　spun　a　fine　yarn；　it　was　true。　They　harvested　and　smoked　the　salmon　that　came　right　up　their　river；　and　the　apples　here　were　tiny　but　sweet；　and　they　made　a　good　wine。　There　was　a　fine　clam　beach　to　the　west　of　town。　These　were　the　riches　of　Siltbay；　and　if　they　were　not　great；　they　were　enough　to　make　life　treasured　by　those　who　lived　here。　Surely；　though；　they　were　not　worth　ing　after　with　a　torch　and　a　blade。　What　sane　man　would　think　a　keg　of　apple　wine　or　a　rack　of　smoked　salmon　worth　a　raider's　time？
　　　　　　　But　these　were　Red…Ships；　and　they　did　not　e　to　raid　for　wealth　or　treasures。　They　were　not　after　prize　breeding　cattle　or　even　women　for　wives　or　boys　for　galley　slaves。　The　wool…fat　sheep　would　be　mutilated　and　slaughtered；　the　smoked　salmon　trampled　underfoot；　the　warehouses　of　fleeces　and　wines　torched。　They　would　take　hostages；　yes；　but　only　to　Forge　them。　The　Forge　magic　would　leave　them　less　than　human；　bereft　of　all　emotions　and　any　but　the　most　basic　thoughts。　The　Raiders　would　not　keep　these　hostages；　but　would　abandon　them　here；　to　work　their　debilitating　anguish　upon　those　who　had　loved　them　and　called　them　kin。　Stripped　of　every　human　sensitivity；　Forged　ones　would　scour　their　homeland　as　pitilessly　as　wolverines。　This　setting　of　our　own　kin　to　prey　upon　us　as　Forged　ones　was　the　Outislanders'　cruelest　weapon。　This　I　already　knew　as　I　watched。　I　had　seen　the　aftermath　of　other　raids。
　　　　　　　I　watched　the　tide　of　death　rise　to　inundate　the　little　town。　The　Outislander　pirates　leaped　from　the　ship　to　the　docks　and　flowed　up　into　the　village。　They　trickled　silently　up　the　streets　in　bands　of　twos　and　threes；　as　deadly　as　poison　unfurling　in　wine。　Some　few　paused　to　search　the　other　vessels　tied　to　the　dock。　Most　of　the　boats　were　small　open　dories；　but　there　were　two　larger　fishing　vessels　and　one　trader。　Their　crews　met　swift　death。　Their　frantic　struggles　were　as　pathetic　as　fowl　flapping　and　squawking　when　a　weasel　gets　into　the　chicken　house。　They　called　out　to　me　with　voices　full　of　blood。　The　thick　fog　gulped　their　cries　greedily。　It　made　the　death　of　a　sailor　no　more　than　the　keening　of　a　seabird。　Afterward；　the　boats　were　torched；　carelessly；　with　no　thought　to　their　value　as　spoils。　These　Raiders　took　no　real　booty。　Perhaps　a　handful　of　coins　if　easily　found；　or　a　necklace　from　the　body　of　one　they　had　raped　and　killed；　but　little　more　than　that。
　　　　　　　I　could　do　nothing　except　watch。　I　coughed　heavily；　then　found　a　breath　to　speak。　〃If　only　I　could　understand　them；〃　I　said　to　the　Fool。　〃If　only　I　knew　what　they　wanted。　There　is　no　sense　to　these　Red…Ships。　How　can　we　fight　those　who　war　for　a　reason　they　will　not　divulge？　But　if　I　could　understand　them　。。。〃
　　　　　　　The　Fool　pursed　his　pale　lips　and　considered。　〃They　partake　of　the　madness　of　he　who　drives　them。　They　can　only　be　understood　if　you　share　that　madness。　I　myself　have　no　wish　to　understand　them。　Understanding　them　will　not　stop　them。〃
　　　　　　　〃No。〃　I　did　not　want　to　watch　the　village。　I　had　seen　this　nightmare　too　often。　But　only　a　heartless　man　could　have　turned　away　as　if　it　were　a　poorly　staged　puppet　show。　The　least　I　could　do　for　my　people　was　watch　them　die。　It　also　was　the　most　I　could　do　for　them。　I　was　sick　and　a　cripple；　an　old　man　far　away。　No　more　could　be　expected　from　me。　So　I　watched。
　　　　　　　I　watched　the　little　town　awaken　from　soft　sleep　to　the　rough　grip　of　a　strange　hand　on　the　throat　or　breast；　to　a　knife　over　a　cradle；　or　the　sudden　cry　of　a　child　dragged　from　sleep。　Lights　began　to　flicker　and　glow　throughout　the　village；　some　were　candles　kindled　on　hearing　a　neighbor's　outcry；　others　were　torches　or　burning　houses。　Although　the　Red…Ships　had　terrorized　the　Six　Duchies　for　over　a　year；　for　this　folk　it　became　pletely　real　tonight。　They　had　thought　they　were　prepared。　They　had　heard　the　horror　stories；　and　resolved　never　to　let　it　happen　to　them。　But　still　the　houses　burned　and　the　screams　rose　to　the　night　sky　as　if　borne　on　the　smoke。
　　　　　　　〃Speak；　Fool；〃　I　manded　hoarsely。　〃Remember　forward　for　me。　What　do　they　say　about　Siltbay？　A　raid　on　Siltbay；　in　winter。〃
　　　　　　　He　took　a　shuddering　breath。　〃It　is　not　easy；　nor　clear；〃　he　hesitated。　〃All　wavers；　all　is　change　still。　Too　much　is　in　flux；　Your　Majesty。　The　future　spills　out　in　all　directions　there。　〃
　　　　　　　〃Speak　any　you　can　see；〃　I　manded。
　　　　　　　〃They　made　a　song　about　this　town；〃　the　Fool　observed　hollowly。　He　gripped　my　shoulder　still；　through　my　nightshirt；　the　clutch　of　his　long；　strong　fingers　was　cold。　A　trembling　passed　between　us　and　I　felt　how　he　labored　to　continue　standing　beside　me。　〃When　it　is　sung　in　a　tavern；　with　the　refrain　hammered　out　to　the　beat　of　ale　mugs　upon　a　table；　none　of　this　seems　so　bad。　One　can　imagine　the　brave　stand　these　folk　made；　going　down　fighting　rather　than　surrendering。　Not　one；　not　one　single　person；　was　taken　alive　and　Forged。　Not　one。〃　The　Fool　paused。　A　hysterical　note　mingled　with　the　levity　he　forced　into　his　voice。　〃Of　course；　when　you're　drinking　and　singing；　you　don't　see　the　blood。　Or　smell　the　burning　flesh。　Or　hear　the　screams。　But　that's　understandable。　Have　you　ever　tried　to　find　a　rhyme　for　‘dismembered　child'？　Someone　once　tried　‘remembered　wild'　but　the　verse　still　didn't　quite　scan。〃　There　is　no　merriment　in　his　banter。　His　bitter　jests　can　shield　neither　him　nor　me。　He　falls　silent　once　more；　my　prisoner　doomed　to　share　his　painful　knowledge　with　ine。
　　　　　　　I　witness　in　silence。　No　verse　would　tell　of　a　parent　pushing　a　poison　pellet　into　a　child's　mouth　to　keep　him　from　the　Raiders。　No　one　could　sing　of　children　crying　out　with　the　cramps　of　the　swift；　harsh　poison；　or　the　women　who　were　raped　as　they　lay　dying。　No　rhyme　nor　melody　could　bear　the　weight　of　telling　of　archers　whose　truest　arrows　slew　captured　kinfolk　before　they　could　be　dragged　away。　I　peered　into　the　interior　of　a　burning　house。　Through　the　flames；　I　watched　a　ten…year…old　boy　bare　his　throat　for　the　slash　of　his　mother's　knife。　He　held　the　body　of　his　baby　sister；　strangled　already；　for　the　Red…Ships　had　e；　and　no　loving　brother　would　give　her　to　either　the　Raiders　or　the　voracious　flames。　I　saw　the　mother's　eyes　as　she　lifted　her　children's　bodies　and　carried　them　into　the　flames　with　her。　Such　things　are　better　not　remembered。　But　I　was　not　spared　the　knowledge。　It　was　my　duty　to　know　these　things；　and　to　recall　them。
　　　　　　　Not　all　died。　Some　fled　into　the　surrounding　fields　and　forests。　I　saw　one　young　man　take　four　children　under　the　docks　with　him；　to　cling　in　the　chill　water　to　the　barnacled　pilings　until　the　Raiders　left。　Others　tried　to　flee　and　were　slain　'as　they　ran。　I　saw　a　woman　in　a　nightgown　slip　from　a　house。　Flames　were　already　running　up　the　side　of　the　building。　She　carried　one　child　in　her　arms　and　another　clung　to　her　skirts　and　followed　her。　Even　in　the　darkness；　the　light　from　the　burning　huts　woke　burnished　highlights　in　her　hair。　She　glanced　about　fearfully；　but　the　long　knife　she　carried　in　her　free　hand　was　up　and　at　the　ready。　I　caught　a　glimpse　of　a　small　mouth　set　grimly；　eyes　narrowed　fiercely。　Then；　for　an　instant；　I　saw　that　proud　profile　limned　against　firelight。　〃Molly！〃　I　gasped。　I　reached　a　clawed　hand　to　her。　She　lifted　a　door　and　shooed　the　children　down　into　a　root　cellar　behind　the　blazing　home。　She　lowered　the　door　silently　over　them　all。　Safe？
　　　　　　　No。　They　came　around　the　corner；　two　of　them。　One　carried　an　ax。　They　were　walking　slowly；　swaggering　and　laughing　aloud。　The　soot　that　smeared　their　faces　made　their　teeth　and　the　whites　of　their　eyes　stand　out。　One　was　a　woman。　She　was　very　beautiful；　laughing　as　she　strode。　Fearless。　Her　hair　was　braided　back　with　silver　wire。　The　flames　winked　red　in　it。　The　Raiders　advanced　to　the　door　of　the　root　cellar；　and　the　one　swung　his　ax　in　a　great　arcing　blow。　The　ax　bit　deep　into　the　wood。　I　heard　the　terrified　cry　of　a　child。　〃Molly！〃　I　shrieked。
　　　　　　　I　scrabbled　from　my　bed；　but　had　no　strength　to　stand。　I　crawled　toward　her。
　　　　　　　The　door　gave　way；　and　the　Raiders　laughed。　One　died　laughing　as　Molly　came　leaping　through　the　shattered　remnants　of　the　door　to　put　her　long　knife　into　his　throat。　But　the　beautiful　woman　with　the　shining　silver　in　her　hair　had　a　sword。　And　as　Molly　struggled　to　pull　her　knife　clear　of　the　dying　man；　that　sword　was　falling；　falling；　falling。
　　　　　　　At　that　instant　something　gave　way　in　the　burning　house　with　a　sharp　crack。　The　structure　swayed　and　then　fell　in　a　shower　of　sparks　and　an　upburst　of　roaring　flames。　A　curtain　of　fire　soared　up　between　me　and　the　root　cellar。　I　could　see　nothing　through　that　inferno。　Had　it　fallen　across　the　door　of　the　root　cellar　and　the　Raiders　attacking　it？　I　could　not　see。　I　lunged　forth；　reaching　out　for　Molly。
　　　　　　　But　in　an　instant；　all　was　gone。　There　was　no　burning　house；　no　pillaged　town；　no　violated　harbor；　no　Red…Ships。　Only　myself；　crouching　by　the　hearth。　I　had　thrust　my　hand　into　the　fire　and　my　f