fs.thesecondbookofswords-第38节

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n　protests　what　little　wind　they　had。　Dmitry　too　was　falling　behind；　declaring　in　gasps　that　he　was　bound　to　stay　with　his　two　panions　…　it　sounded　like　a　transparent　excuse；　meant　to　hide　his　own　poor　condition。
　　　Even　so　they　had　gained　a　little　on　the　party　running　to　their　right。　But　now　Mark　could　see　yet　another　force；　at　about　the　same　distance　to　the　left　and　also　speeding　along　a　parallel　course；　with　torchlight　glinting　on　its　weapons。　The　garrison　appeared　to　be　rousing　itself　piecemeal　to　meet　the　incursion。　Now　someone　in　the　group　to　the　left　called　out；　and　Mark　realized　that　those　were　women。
　　　〃Amazons；〃　a　voice　beside　him　panted。　〃Bandits　and　warriors　just　like　the　rest　of　the　garrison。　I'd　rather　face　the　men。〃
　　　Doon　was　not　disposed　to　loiter　for　the　benefit　of　stragglers；　and　Dmitry　and　his　two　friends　kept　falling　farther　back。　Mark　looking　over　his　shoulder　saw　that　there　was　now　pursuit　to　the　rear　as　well；　whatever　they　might　encounter　up　ahead；　doubling　back　did　not　appear　to　be　an　option。
　　　And　now；　directly　ahead；　another　armed；　torchbearing　contingent　was　assembling；　soldiers　moving　into　position　to　block　the　way。
　　　Doon　halted；　his　people　stopped　around　him；　all　gasping　with　the　effort　of　the　futile　run。　The　enemy　array　blocking　their　path　was　already　solidly　in　place　behind　its　leveled　spears；　and　in　itself　had　some　advantage　in　numbers　over　the　intruders。　Certainly　the　other　forces　on　both　flanks　and　in　the　rear　would　have　time　to　close　in　before　any　breakthrough　could　be　made。
　　　Now　for　a　little　time　there　was　silence　in　the　cave；　except　for　the　less　and　less　distant　shuffle　of　many　feet；　a　sound　that　gradually　shuffled　into　silence；　and　for　the　faint　sizzle　and　drip　of　the　torches　that　a　number　of　the　enemy　were　carrying；　and　for　the　slowly　quieting　breathing　of　hard…worked　lungs。
　　　Now；　from　the　very　center　of　the　opposing　front　line；　a　grotesquely　squat；　thick…bodied　figure　detached　itself；　and　waddled　a　few　paces　forward。　This　man　wore　an　elongated　helmet；　as　if　in　some　preposterous　effort　to　achieve　impressive　height。　His　strange；　waddling　gait　made　Mark　look　at　his　feet；　and　these　also　appeared　lengthened；　by　oddly　thick　soled　boots。　Torches　on　either　side　of　him　cast　a　flickering　red　light　upon　his　bulbous；　red…nosed　face。　In　a　hoarse　voice　this　figure　bellowed：　〃Surrender；　you　scurvy　sons　of　loadbeasts！　We　have　you　surrounded！〃　The　sentences　were　punctuated　with　waves　of　a　short　sword。
　　　Dmitry　for　once　was　quiet；　Mark　from　the　corner　of　his　eye　observed　that　the　youth　appeared　sullenly　downcast。　But　Doon　was　equal　to　the　occasion；　and　put　on　his　best　mander's　voice　and　manner：　〃Who　speaks？　Where's　your　captain？〃
　　　The　squat　one　bellowed　back　at　him：　〃I'm　captain　here！　mander　of　the　bloody　garrison　of　the　Blue　Temple　Main　Depository。　Field　Marshall　d'Albarno　…　ever　hear　of　me？〃　He　rolled　a　few　paces　farther　forward；　into　somewhat　brighter　light；　as　if　he　took　pride　in　his　bizarre　appearance。　His　face；　now　more　clearly　visible；　was　bloated　and　spectacularly　ugly。
　　　〃There's　elfin　blood　in　him；　I'll　bet。〃　The　tense　whisper　came　from　Ariane；　at　Mark's　side。　He　looked　at　her。　Elves　were　only　superstition；　or　so　he　thought　that　all　well　educated　people　believed。
　　　Field　Marshal　d'Albarno　…　Mark；　at　least；　had　never　heard　of　either　the　rank　or　the　name　before　…　was　raw　roaring　at　them：　〃So；　are　you　all　going　to　surrender；　you　bloody　lumps　of　demon…dung？　Or　are　we　going　to　have　to　hack　you　all　to　bits　and　get　our　weapons　dirty？〃
　　　〃Aphrodite's　armpits！〃　Doon's　answering　blast　was　equally；　hearteningly　loud。　He　too　knew　how　to　swear；　and　with　some　artistry。　〃Shut　your　mouth　for　a　moment；　wormcast…brain；　and　listen　to　me。　What's　the　most　important　thing　there　is　in　life；　to　you；　to　me；　to　any　soldier？〃
　　　D'Albarno　blinked。　His　almost　bestial　visage　gave　evidence　of　trying　to　register　surprise。　〃Oh。〃　The　enemy　mander's　voice　had　diminished　to　something　like　mere　thunder。　〃Oh；　we're　getting　to　that　soon。　It's　our　due　whenever　we're　called　up　to　active　duty　here；　our　pay　for　beating　back　your　damned　attack。〃　Again　he　raised　the　level　of　his　voice　to　an　inhuman　bawling。　〃Do　you　surrender；　or。。？〃
　　　〃Vulcan's　vomit；　man；　of　course　we're　going　to　surrender！〃　No　matter　how　loud　the　other　got；　the　Baron　so　far　had　been　able　to　measure　up。　〃The　only　point　is　this　…　do　we　get　to　keep　our　weapons；　and　join　you　like　good　rades　in　your　frolic　first？　Or　do　we　have　to　mow　down　half　your　pany　to　make　you　meet　our　terms？　That　won't　leave　you　with　much　strength　to　enjoy　your　carousal；　will　it？　And　maybe　not　much　time　for　it　either。〃　The　last　sentence　was　added　in　a　knowing　way；　as　if　to　hint　at　inside　knowledge。
　　　The　self…proclaimed　Field　Marshal　…　he　did　seem　to　wear　a　number　of　decorations　on　his　chest…planted　his　ham…sized　fists　upon　his　bulbous　and　unmilitary　hips。　He　turned　his　head　from　right　to　left　and　back　again；　as　if　calling　upon　witnesses。
　　　〃Now；〃　he　mumbled；　in　a　voice　again　reduced　almost　to　human　volume；　〃there's　a　man　who　understands　what　soldiering's　about。　It　ought　to　be　a　joy　to　have　him　in　the　garrison。　A　rade　I　can　damned　well　drink　with。　I　might　even　be　able　to　endure　his　stories　of　his　wars　and　battles。　I　might　even　…　ho　there；　put　down　your　bloody　bow！〃　This　last　injunction　was　directed　at　a　decrepit…looking　archer　in　d'Albarno's　own　pany　who；　after　much　effort　with　trembling　fingers；　had　gotten　an　arrow　nocked　and　was　not　disposed　to　waste　the　effort　but　seemed　clearly　intent　upon　shooting　into　the　group　with　Doon。
　　　〃Put　it　down；　I　say！〃　the　Field　Marshal　repeated。　〃And　you；　you　bloody　invaders；　fall　in　with　us　quickly　and　e　along。　I'll　send　a　bloody　formal　announcement　of　our　victory　on　to　the　civilians　…　but　not　just　yet。　The　damned　joyless　slugs　have　gone　into　hiding；　as　they　do　whenever　there's　an　alert；　and　for　all　they　know；　or　need　to　know；　were　still　locked　in　bloody　bat。　As　soon　as　they　realize　that　you've　surrendered；　they'll　e　out　of　their　holes　and　start　preaching　to　us　all；　and　close　the　party　down。　We　who　have　faced　death　to　guard　their　metal　will　have　our　fun　restricted；　and　we'll　all　be　stuffed　back　into　our　shells　until　the　next　excitement　starts。　Are　you　with　me？〃
　　　Doon　pressed　him　to　make　sure。　〃We　keep　our　weapons；　then？　Until　the　victory　party's　over？〃
　　　〃Aye；　all　right；　until　the　bloody　surrender　is　made　official。　But　try　to　use　them；　and　we'll　chop　you　into　bloody　hash！〃
　　　Doon　signed　to　his　own　people　to　put　down　their　slings　and　bows；　and　sheathe　their　blades。　He　put　Wayfinder　back　into　its　sheath　himself。　D'Albarno　gave　the　same　orders；　and　with　a　flourish　put　his　own　sword　away。　Ranks　melted。　Slowly；　suspiciously　at　first；　the　confrontation　turned　into　an　awkward；　then　a　less　awkward；　march。
　　　What　is　this？　thought　Mark。　Have　we　surrendered　or　not？　He　caught　Ben's　eye；　but　got　no　help　from　the　big　man's　expression　of　bewilderment。　Doon　was　marching　beside　d'Albarno；　the　two　already　conversing　as　if　on　terms　of　old　acquaintance。　And　Mitspieler　seemed　to　have　disappeared　again。
　　　The　hard…faced　Amazon　warriors　rushed　to　encircle　Ariane；　and　wele　her　as　a　new　recruit。　Mark　caught　a　last　frightened　look　from　her　as　she　was　swept　away。
　　　At　least　they　were　all　going　in　the　same　direction。
　　　On　to　the　party！
Chapter　14
　　　The　place　of　revelry　was　not　pletely　walled　off　from　the　surrounding　cave　with　its　gloomy　appearance　of　half　barracks　and　half　cemetery。　Instead　it　was　only　partially　separated　by　head…high　partitions；　constructed　of　stacked　barracks…beds；　and　of　piled…up　barrels；　crates；　and　kegs。　These　containers；　Mark　deduced；　held　the　supplies　necessary　for　proper　celebration。　D'Albarno　had　evidently　already　sent　ahead　this　far　at　least　the　word　of　his　triumph　in　the　field；　for　the　bar　was　almost　ready　to　open　when　his　bined　force　of　troops　and　prisoners；　now　mingled　almost　indistinguishably；　arrived。　The　bar　itself　was　a　crude　three…sided　enclosure；　built　up　of　barracks…beds；　some　upside　down；　stacked　lower　than　the　walls。　Smaller　stacks　made　tables　nearby；　and　single　beds　simply　uncovered　served　as　benches。　The　scene　was　lit　by　mounted　torches。　The　only　halfway　permanent…looking　。structure　in　sight　was　a　crude　stone　fireplace；　its　sides　so　low　that　it　was　not　much　more　than　an　open　pit。　One　of　the　garrison；　who　was　either　a　minor　conjuror　or　thought　he　was；　was　waving　his　arms　to　create　a　spell　in　hopes　of　making　the　smoke　rise　straight　up　into　the　unfathomed　darkness　overhead。　There　was　a　pile　of　ordinary…looking　wood　for　fuel；　brought　perhaps　from　the　magic　forest　on　the　level　above。　Over　some　newly　kindled　flames　a　large　four…legged　beast　of　some　kind　was　being　roasted　virtually　whole。　Turning　the　spit；　and　bustling　around　on　various　other　lowly　tasks；　were　a　few　of　the　scroungier　and　weaker…looking　members　of　the　garrison。
　　　Inside　the　three…sided　enclosure　of　the　bar；　and　setting　about　more　prestigious　work；　were　three　beings　of　a　type　that　Mark　recognized　at　once　from　Ben's　description；　though　he　himself　had　never　seen　the　like　before。
　　　Ben　nudged　him。　〃Whitehands；〃　the　big　man　murmured。　Indeed　the　main　distinguishing　feature　of