fs.thefirstbookofswords-第13节
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wo hands during the fight。 But no power flowed from the weapon now； and Mark could do with it as he liked。 Without delaying； without giving the gods another moment in which to act； he thrust the sword down into the rising smoke and let it fall。 Father； Kenn； I've done it。
The sword fell at once into invisibility。 Mark heard the sharp impact that it made on nearby rock； followed by another clash a little farther down。 Holding his breath； he listened a long time for some final impact； perhaps a splash into the molten rock that an Elder had once told Mark lay at tire bottom of these holes of fire。 But though he listened until he could hold his breath no more； he heard no more of the falling sword。
Mark looked up into the morning sky； clear but for a few small clouds。 They were just clouds； with nothing remarkable about them。 He realized that he was waiting for a reaction； for lightning； for something to embody what must be the anger of the gods at what he had just done。 He was waiting to be struck dead。 But no blow came。
What did e instead was； in a sense； even worse。 It was just the beginning of a sickening suspicion that his throwing the sword down into the volcano had been a horrible mistake。 Now he had made his gesture； of striking back at the gods for what they had done to him。 And what harm had his gesture done them？ And what good had it done himself？
In thirteen years； Jord had never made this awful trek； had never thrown the gods' payment for his right arm back into their teeth。 For whatever reason； Mark's father had kept his arm…price hanging on the wall at home instead。 Never trying to use it； never trying to sell it； not bragging about it … but still keeping it。 Mark had never really； until this moment； tried to fathom why。
One thing was sure； Mark's father had never tried to rid himself of the sword。
The spell of shock that had been put on Mark in the village street by the evil magic of violence began at last to lift。 He realized that he was alone upon a barren mountainside； almost too weak to move； many kilometers from the home to which he dared not return。 And that he'd just done something awesome and inprehensible； pleted a mad gesture that would make him the enemy of gods as well as men。
He hung weakly on the edge of the smoking； stinking stone stump； growing sicker and more frightened by the moment； until he began to imagine that the voices of the gods were ing up out of the central hole along with the mind…clouding smoke。 Yes； the gods were angry。 In Mark the feeling grew of just having made an enormous blunder。 The feeling escalated gradually into black terror。
Only his lack of energy saved him from real panic。 Doing what he could to flee the wrath of the gods； leaning shakily on the black rocky stump； Mark started round it to reach its far side； from which the mountainside went rather steeply down。 As Mark moved onto the descending slope； the stump he leaned on turned into a high crooked column； the way around it into a definite descending path。
Mark had not followed this path for twenty steps before he came upon the sword。 It was lying directly in his way； right under a jagged hole in the side of the crooked chimney…column； through which it had obviously dropped out。 One bounce on rock； the first impact that he'd heard； then this。 Altogether the sword had fallen no farther than if he'd dropped it from the millhouse roof。
Even in that short time it had encountered heat enough to leave it scorching。 Mark burned his fingers when he tried to pick it up； and had to let it drop again。 He had to wait； shivering in the mountain's morning shadow； and blowing on his fingers； until the unharmed metal had cooled enough for him to handle it。
Chapter 3
〃I am still amazed at the extent of your recent failure； Wearer…of…Blue；〃 Duke Fraktin said。 〃Indeed； the more I think about it； the more amazed I grow。〃
The blue…robed wizard's real name was not the one by which he had just been addressed。 But his real name … or； indeed； even his next…to…real name … were not to be casually uttered； not even by the lips of a duke； and the wizard was used to answering to a variety of aliases。
The wizard now bowed； though he remained seated； in controlled acknowledgement of the rebuke； he had a way； carefully cultivated； of not showing fear； a way that made even a very confident master tread a little warily with him。
〃I have already said to Your Grace；〃 the blue…robed one responded now； 〃all that I can say in my own defense。〃
There was a small gold cage suspended from a stone ceiling arch not far above the wizard's head； and inside that cage a monkbird screamed now； as if in derision at this remark。 The hybrid creature's ineffectual wings made a brief iridescent blur on both sides of its thin； furred body。 But its brain was too small to allow it the power of thought； and neither of the men below it paid its ment the least attention。
Except for the slave girl who had just brought wine； the two men were quite alone。 They were seated in one of the smaller private chambers of the rather grim and drafty castle that was the Duke's chief residence； and would have been thought of as his family seat if any of the duchesses he had tried out so far had succeeded in giving him some immediate family。 The present Duke's great…grandfather had begun the clan's climb to prominence by taking up the profession of robber baron。 He had also begun the construction of this castle。 Much enlarged since those days； it clung to a modest but strategically located crag overlooking the crossing of two important overland trade routes。 Trade on both highways had somewhat diminished since the days of the castle's founding； but by now the family was into other games than simple robbery and the sale of insurance on life； health； and business。
Rich wall hangings； in the family colors of blue and white； rippled silkily as a gentle breeze entered the chamber through the narrow windows let into its thick stone walls。 In the Duke's father's day the women of the household had begun to insist upon some degree of interior elegance； and the hangings dated from that time。 And today for some reason those rippling drapes gave the Duke a momentarily acute sense of the swiftness of time's passage … all the efforts of his ancestors had enabled him to begin his own life with great advantages； but his own decades had somehow sped past him and out of reach； and today his domain was little larger or stronger than when his father had left it to him … a gift rather unwillingly bestowed。 The Duke still wanted very much to be king of the whole continent someday； but it was years since he had said as much aloud to even his closest advisers。 He would have expected and feared their silent ridicule； because there was so little hope。 Until very recently； that is。
He made a small gesture of dismissal to the slave girl； who rose swiftly and gracefully from her knees； and departed on silent feet； her gauzy garments swirling。 Yes； in the matter of women too he thought himself unlucky…time passed； wives appeared； were found for one reason or another unsatisfactory； and departed again。 The duty he felt he owed himself； of providing his own heir for his own dukedom； was still not acplished。
The Duke poured himself a small cup of the wine。 〃I think；〃 he said to his wizard； 〃that if you were to try； you might find a few more words to say to me on the subject。〃 As if in afterthought； he poured a second golden cup of wine； and handed it across； he nodded meanwhile； as if confirming something to himself。 His Grace was on the small side； wiry and graying； with a hint of curl still in his forelock。 On the subject of beards and mustaches； as on much else； he had never been able to make up his mind with any finality； and he was currently clean…shaven except for a modest set of sideburns。 The ducal plexion was on the dark side； particularly around the eyes； which made the sockets look a little hollow and gave him a hungry look sometimes。
He prodded his wizard now： 〃As you have described the sequence of events to me； this young boy first shot my cousin dead； then simply picked up the sword； the sword you had been sent there to get … and walked away with it。 No one has seen him since； as far as we can determine。 And you made no attempt to stop his departure。 You say you did not notice it。〃
The wizard； apparently unruffled by all this； again made his small seated bow。 〃Your Grace； immediately after the fight； a crowd gathered in the street。 There was much confusion。 People were shouting all manner of absurd things； about cavalry； invasions … the scene was far from orderly； with people ing and going everywhere。 My first concern was naturally for your cousin's life； and I did all that I could to save him。 Alas； my powers proved inadequate。 But in those first moments I did not even know whose arrow had struck him down。 I assumed； reasonably； I think； that it had e from one of the attackers' bows。〃
〃And of course when the fight was over you thought no more about the sword。 Even though you'd just seen what it could do。〃
〃Beg pardon； Your Grace； I really did not see that。 When the fighting
