fs.thefirstbookofswords-第38节
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She glared at each person in the room in turn。 Her gaze lingered longest on Mark； and he had the sensation that something invisible； but palpable and evil； had passed near him。 Then； with her lifted chin turned to Sir Andrew； the lady said： 〃I demand to be released。〃
〃Most likely you soon will be。〃 The knight's voice had turned cold； much changed from what it had been。 〃My investigation of what your agents did at the fairgrounds last night is almost plete。 If you were not here on business of diplomacy； woman； you'd likely be down in my dungeon now。〃
The lady chose not to hear this。 She tossed back dark hair imperiously。 〃And where is Hugh of Semur？〃
〃That dog is dead。 Diplomat or not； he succeeded in earning himself a broken neck last night。〃
The dark lady demonstrated shock。 〃Dead！ Then his killers must be placed in my custody； that I may take them to face the Duke's justice。 As I must take him。〃 She pointed a long fingernail at Mark。 〃And that sword on the table。 It belongs to His Grace too。〃
〃I think； m'lady； that you'll take precious little out of my territory but yourself。〃
The lady started to pretend surprise at this refusal； then shrugged lightly and gave it up。 〃It will go ill for you； Sir Andrew； if you refuse the Duke his property； and his just vengeance。 Who will guarantee the security of your frontiers if he does not？〃
〃Oh； ah？ Speaking of property； there's the matter of the damage done to some of mine last night； and to some of my people； too。 That fine coach that brought you here； my fine Lady Marat； should fetch something on the market。 Enough； perhaps； to pay some of the bills that you've run up in damages。 I'll see if I can find a farm wagon somewhere； and a loadbeast or two； to furnish you and your servants transportation home。 A somewhat bumpy ride； perhaps； but。。。〃
Now indeed she flared。 〃Beast yourself！ How dare you treat me； the Duke's emissary； in such a way？ How dare you？〃
〃。。。but； as I say； it would be a long way for you to walk。〃
The lady now had hard struggle to restrain her tongue； but she managed it at last。 After delivering one last glare at each person in the room； she turned between her guards with a fine swirl of glittery fabrics； and with her guards was gone。
Dame Yoldi reached to brush her fingers through Mark's hair； it was as if she were only petting him； but Mark had the sense that something； a cobweb maybe； that he had not known was there； was brushed away。 The enchantress smiled at him faintly； then closed her eyes。 She held Mark by the hand； as if she were learning something from the feel of his hand。
〃The son of Jord；〃 she said； her eyes still closed。 〃Of Jord who was a miller … and before that； a smith。〃
〃Aye； ma'm。〃
〃Aye； and aye。 But I wonder what else your father was？〃 Dame Yoldi's eyes opened； large and gray and luminous。 〃Mark； in all the world； your father Jord is； or was； the only human being ever to have handled more than one of the swords。 And only you yourself have ever handled as many as three of them； since their steel was infused with the gods' magic。 And a question that has nagged at me was answered here； last night； in part： what would happen if a person； a being of any nature； were to touch and use more than one of the swords at the same time？〃
Dame Yoldi paused； looking around at all the people in the room。 〃And what if two or more of the gods' swords were to touch each other？ What if they should be used directly against each other in battle？〃
No one could answer her。
All were thinking that Duke Fraktin soon would have two swords； unless his courier were somehow stopped。
Mark met Barbara's expressive eyes； and knew what she was thinking： In our old wagon we had two swords at once； and never tried。。。
Chapter 13
Nestor； after making that first parry in time to save his life； got quickly to his feet and stepped back from the attacking larva。 As it came after him he backed away。 It continued to advance； limping even as he had imagined it must move。 Nestor was backing up with cautious steps that took him along the jagged edge of a broken roof。 On his left was the paved courtyard； seven meters below； sloping upward on his right was the jumble of tilted； fallen slabs； which would be sure to offer abominable footing。
The thing that limped after Nestor blew little moaning cries at him out of its absence of a face； as if it might be in agony； or perhaps in love。 On the almost featureless front of its head only the dark eyes moved a little； staying locked on Nestor。 The larva was advancing with its bent arms raised； both its weapons held up near its head； ready to parry a swordstroke or to swing at him again。 Not only were those forearms armed with barbed hook and torture…knife； but they were in themselves as hard as bronze。 Nestor had a good gauge now of that metallic…hardness； his first edged parry had nicked and dented the thing's right wrist； but no more than dented it。 A human arm would almost certainly have been pletely severed。
After backing up only a few steps along the rim of the roof； Nestor decided retreating was more dangerous than standing his ground would be。 He was a petent swordsman； and the blade in his hand a superb weapon； even when； as now； whatever magic it might possess was in abeyance。 Why then had he automatically retreated； and why did deep terror still lie in his stomach like a lump of ice？ The terror must e； he realized； only from the peculiar nature of his enemy； and not from any powers that it had so far demonstrated。 The movements of his foe showed speed and strength … but no more speed or strength than many human opponents might have shown。 And the larva was fighting with one considerable； obvious disadvantage … though its weapons were two in number； they were no longer than its arms。 If Nestor could keep his nerve and his footing； and use his own magnificent weapon as it deserved to be used； such an attacker ought not to be able to defeat him。
On the other hand； it was already plain that the larva had certain advantages as well： devilish persistence； and a horrible durability。 When Nestor stood his ground and struck back； landing a hard chop on its torso； he had the sensation of having hewn into frozen mud。 The gray shell cracked at the spot where the blow landed； and substance of a deeper gray began oozing out。 But the larva was not disabled； and it seemed to feel nothing。 It still came after Nestor； nor was it minded to seek its own safety after what the sword had begun to do to it。
Nestor feinted a high blow； and then hit his opponent in the leg。 And now the limp that he had so accurately forecast became more pronounced。 When Nestor experimentally retreated a step again to see what the thing would do； it followed。 Its gait was now a trifle slower。
Of course it might be keeping speed in reserve； something to surprise the man with at a critical moment。 But somehow Nestor doubted that。 He had trouble imagining that there could be much in the way of cleverness behind that lack of face。 The larva blew its whistling； forlorn whine at him； and advanced on him implacably。
He hit it again； this time in the arm； stopping its advance。 This was a harder blow； with much of the swordsman's weight and strength behind the driving edge； and now one of the larva's wrists and weapons dangled from a forearm that had been almost severed for all its hardness。 The cut was leaking slow gray slime instead of blood。
Nestor； gaining confidence now； made up his mind and charged the larva suddenly。 He caught it with its weight on what seemed to be its weaker leg； and it went back and over the edge of the roof under the impact of a hard swordthrust that only started to pierce its tough breastplate。 As it went back and over； the larva made grabbing motions； trying to seize the blade； but it lacked the hands with which to grab anything； and anyway one of its arms was almost severed； its weapon flapping like some deadly glove。 Still； Nestor had one horrible moment； in which he feared that the sword was stuck so firmly into the chitinous armor that it might be pulled from his hands or else pull him after the larva as it fell。 But the point tugged free when the weight of the gray body came on it fully。
No skill or magic broke that fall； and the paved court was a full seven meters down。 Looking over the edge of the roof at the inert； sprawled figure after it had bounced； Nestor could see that the whole gray torso was now networked with fine cracks。 More of the varied grayness that must serve the thing as life was oozing from inside。
Nestor had no more than started his first easy breath when the thing stirred。 Slowly it flexed its limbs； then got back to its feet。 It tilted its head back to let its eyes find its human enemy again。 Then； moving deliberately； it limped back into the temple on the level below Nestor。 He felt sure that it was ing after him again。
He was sweating as he stood there on the broken roof； though heavy clouds were ing over the sun。 He had the feeling that he had entered the realm of nightmare。 But the urgency of bat was still pumping in his veins； and before it could di
