p&c.thunderhead-第69节

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you　take　the　last　load　out　in　ninety　minutes　or　so。〃　
　A　strange；　utterly　foreign　sensation　began　to　creep　up　Black's　spine。　With　a　growing　sense　of　unreality；　he　came　up　beside　Sloane　and　watched　as　Nora　gave　a　shout　and　a　wave　to　Smithback。　They　were　quickly　joined　by　Aragon。　Then　the　three　walked　toward　the　rows　of　supplies；　shouldered　their　drysacks；　and　started　for　the　mouth　of　the　slot　canyon。　
　After　a　moment；　Black　tore　himself　away　and　turned　toward　Sloane。　〃What　are　you　doing？〃　he　asked；　his　voice　cracking。　
　Sloane　met　his　gaze。　〃What　am　I　doing？　I'm　not　doing　anything；　Aaron。〃　
　〃But　we　saw…〃　Black　began；　then　faltered。　
　〃What　did　we　see？〃　Sloane　hissed　suddenly；　rounding　on　him。　〃All　I　did　was　get　the　weather　report　and　give　it　to　Nora。　Just　as　she　demanded。　If　you　saw　something；　say　so　now。　If　not；　then　shut　your　mouth　about　it　forever。〃　
　Black　stared　into　her　eyes：　her　whole　frame　was　trembling；　her　lips　white　with　emotion。　He　glanced　upcanyon；　in　time　to　see　the　group　of　three　cross　the　stream；　toil　briefly　up　the　scree　slope；　and　disappear　into　the　dark；　terrible　slit　of　rock。　
　Then　he　looked　back　at　Sloane。　As　she　read　his　eyes；　the　tension　in　her　frame　ebbed　away。　And　then；　slowly；　she　nodded。　
　
　
46
　
　JOHN　BEIYOODZIN　HALTED　HIS　HORSE　AT　THE　top　of　the　hogback　ridge　and　looked　down　into　the　valley　of　Chilbah。　The　horse　had　taken　the　trail　well；　but　he　was　still　trembling；　damp　with　perspiration。　Beiyoodzin　waited；　murmuring　soothing　words；　giving　him　time　to　recover。　The　late　morning　sun　was　glinting　off　the　peaceful　thread　of　water　winding　through　the　valley　bottom；　a　ribbon　of　quicksilver　amid　the　lush　greenery。　On　the　high　benchlands　above；　the　wind　stirred　the　cottonwoods　and　copses　of　oaks。　He　could　smell　sage　and　ozone　in　the　air。　There　was　a　sudden　stirring　of　wind　that　pressed　at　his　back；　as　if　urging　him　over　the　side。　Beiyoodzin　restrained　an　impulse　to　look；　he　knew　all　too　well　what　loomed　up　behind　him。　
　The　buckskin　shook　out　his　mane；　and　Beiyoodzin　patted　him　soothingly　on　the　neck。　He　closed　his　eyes　a　moment；　calming　himself；　trying　to　reconcile　his　mind　to　the　confrontation　that　lay　ahead。　
　But　calm　would　not　e。　He　felt　a　sudden　surge　of　anger　at　himself：　he　should　have　told　the　woman　everything　when　he　had　the　chance。　She　had　been　honest　with　him。　And　she　deserved　to　know。　It　had　been　foolish　to　tell　her　only　half　of　the　story。　Worse；　it　had　been　unkind　and　selfish　to　lie。　And　now；　as　a　result　of　his　weakness；　he　found　himself　on　a　journey　that　he　would　have　given　almost　anything　to　avoid。　He　could　hardly　bring　himself　to　contemplate　the　terrible　nature　of　the　evil　he　had　to　confront。　And　yet　he　had　no　choice　but　to　prepare　himself　for　conflict；　perhaps；　even；　for　death。　
　Beiyoodzin　finally　saw　the　situation　clearly；　and　he　was　not　happy　with　the　role　he　had　played。　Sixteen　years　before；　a　small　imbalance；　a　minor　ugliness…ni　zshinitso…had　been　injected　into　the　small　world　of　his　people。　They　had　ignored　it。　And　as　a　result　the　small　imbalance　had　bee；　as　they　should　have　known　it　would；　a　great　evil。　As　a　healer；　he　should　have　guided　them　to　doing　what　was　right。　It　was　precisely　because　of　this　old　imbalance；　this　absence　of　truth；　that　these　people　were　now　down　in　Chilbah；　digging。　He　shuddered。　And　it　was　because　of　this　imbalance　that　the　eskizzi；　the　wolfskin　runners；　had　bee　active　again。　And　now　it　had　fallen　to　him　to　correct　the　imbalance。　
　At　last；　he　reluctantly　turned　around　and　gazed　toward　the　storm；　amazed　to　see　it　still　growing　and　swelling；　like　some　vast　malignant　beast。　Here；　as　if　he　needed　it；　was　a　physical　manifestation　of　the　imbalance。　It　was　releasing　ever　thicker；　blacker；　denser　columns　of　rain　down　onto　the　Kaiparowits　Plateau。　It　was　a　tremendous　rain；　a　five…hundred…year　rain。　Beiyoodzin　had　never　seen　its　equal。　
　His　gaze　moved　over　the　distant　guttered　landscape　between　the　thunderhead　and　the　valley；　trying　to　pick　out　the　flash　of　moving　water；　but　the　canyons　were　too　deep。　In　his　mind's　eye　he　could　see　the　torrential　rains　falling　hard　on　the　slickrock　of　the　Kaiparowits；　the　drops　coalescing　into　rivulets；　the　rivulets　into　streams；　the　streams　into　torrents…the　torrents　into　something　that　no　word　could　adequately　describe。　
　He　untied　a　small　bundle　from　one　of　his　saddle　strings…a　drilled　piece　of　turquoise　and　a　mirage　stone　tied　up　in　horsehair　around　a　small　buckskin　bag；　attached　to　an　eagle　feather。　He　opened　the　bag；　pinched　out　some　cornmeal　and　pollen；　and　sprinkled　it　about；　saving　the　last　for　his　horse's　poll。　He　brushed　first　himself；　then　his　horse's　face；　with　the　eagle　feather。　The　horse　was　prancing　now　in　growing　agitation；　eyes　rolling　toward　the　thunderhead。　The　leather　strings　of　the　saddle　slapped　restlessly　in　the　growing　wind。　
　Beiyoodzin　chanted　softly　in　his　language。　Then　he　repacked　his　medicine　kit；　dusted　the　pollen　from　his　fingers。　The　landscape　was　now　divided　sharply　between　brilliant　sunlight　and　a　spreading　black　stain。　A　chill；　electrically　charged　wind　eddied　around　him。　He　would　not；　of　course；　attempt　to　ride　into　the　second　valley；　the　valley　of　Quivira；　through　the　slot　canyon。　The　flood　would　be　ing　through　within　minutes。　That　meant　he　would　have　to　take　the　secret　Priest's　Trail　over　the　top：　the　long；　difficult　rimrock　trail　that　his　grandfather　had　told　him　of　in　broken　whispers　but　that　he　himself　had　never　seen。　He　thought　back；　trying　to　recall　his　grandfather's　directions　precisely。　It　would　be　necessary　to　do　so；　because　of　the　cleverness　with　which　the　trail　was　hidden：　it　had　been　designed　to　be　an　optical　illusion；　its　cliff　edge　cut　higher　than　the　edge　along　the　rockface；　rendering　it　practically　invisible　from　more　than　a　few　feet　away。　The　trail；　he　had　been　told；　started　up　the　cliffs　some　distance　from　the　slot　canyon；　crossed　the　wide　slickrock　plateau；　and　then　descended　into　the　canyon　at　the　far　end　of　the　valley　of　Quivira。　It　might　be　very　difficult　for　an　old　man。　Maybe；　after　all　these　years；　it　would　be　impossible。　But　he　had　no　choice；　the　imbalance　had　to　be　corrected；　the　natural　symmetry　had　to　be　restored。　
　He　started　quickly　down　into　the　valley。　
　
　
47
　
　NORA　PARTED　THE　CURTAIN　OF　WEEDS　AND　glanced　upward。　The　slot　canyon　snaked　ahead　of　her；　the　sunshine　striated　and　shadowy　in　the　reddish　half…light；　the　hollows　and　polished　ribs　of　stone　stretching　ahead　like　the　throat　of　some　great　beast。　She　eased　into　the　water　and　breaststroked　across　the　first　pool；　Smithback　following；　Aragon　bringing　up　the　rear。　The　water　felt　cool　after　the　dead；　oppressive　heat　of　the　valley；　and　she　tried　to　empty　her　mind　to　it；　concentrating　on　the　pure　physical　sensation；　refusing　for　the　moment　to　think　of　the　long　trip　that　lay　before　them。　
　They　traveled　in　silence　for　a　while；　going　from　pool　to　pool；　wading　along　the　shallows；　the　quiet　sounds　of　their　passage　whispering　off　the　confined　spaces　of　canyon。　Nora　hefted　the　drysack　from　one　shoulder　to　the　other。　Despite　everything；　she　felt　less　troubled　than　she　had　over　the　last　three　days。　It　had　been　her　great　fear　that　Black　and　Sloane　would　descend　the　ladder　with　reports　of　bad　weather　brewing。　It　would　have　been　credible；　given　the　recent　rains。　And　she　would　have　had　to　decide　whether　they　were　telling　the　truth　or　giving　a　phony　report　in　order　to　remain　at　Quivira。　But　the　report　of　good　weather…though　grudgingly　given…proved　they　were　resigned　to　leaving　the　city。　Now　all　that　remained　was　the　grueling　multiple　portages　out　through　the　slot　canyon　to　the　horses。　
　No；　that　was　not　quite　all；　her　mind　had　never　been　far　from　Holroyd's　remains；　waiting　for　them　a　quarter　mile　up　the　slot　canyon。　And　with　those　remains　came　the　message　that　the　skinwalkers　were　close；　perhaps　watching　them　right　now；　waiting　to　make　their　next　move。　
　She　glanced　back　toward　Aragon：　the　man　had　made　it　clear　he　wanted　to　speak　to　her　about　something。　Aragon　looked　up；　read　the　question　in　her　eyes；　and　merely　shook　his　head。　〃When　we　reach　the　body；〃　was　his　only　reply。　
　Nora　swam　across　another　pool；　climbed　up　a　pourover；　and　squeezed　sideways　through　a　narrower　section。　Then　the　steep　walls　widened　a　little　around　her。　In　the　distance　ahead；　she　could　make　out　the　massive　cottonwood　trunk；　suspended　like　a　gigantic　spar；　wedged　across　the　walls　of　the　canyon。　Just　above　it；　in　deep　shadow；　was　the　narrow　ledge　that　led　to　the　space　where　Holroyd's　body　had　been　laid。　
　Nora's　eyes　fell　from　the　ledge；　to　the　jumble　of　rocks　below；　to　the　narrow　pool　that　stretched　the　eight　or　ten　feet　across　the　canyon's　bottom。　Her　gaze　came　to　rest　at　a　smear　of　yellow；　floating　at　the　near　end。　It　was　Holroyd's　body　bag。　Gingerly；　she　came　forward。　Now　she　could　see　a　long；　ragged　gash　in　one　side　of　the　bag。　And　there　was　Holroyd's　body；　lying　on　its　back　half　out　of　the　water。　He　looked　strangely　plump。　
　She　stopped　dead。　〃Oh；　God；〃　came　Smithback's　voice　by　her　shoulder。　Then：　〃Are　we　exposing　ourselves　to　some　kind　of　disease；　wading　about　in　this　water？〃　
　Aragon　heaved　himself　up　behind　them。　〃No；〃　he　said；　〃I　don't　believe　we　are。〃　But　there　was　no　consolation　in　his　face　as