fs.thefirstbookofswords-第41节

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　　　〃Gentle　kinsman；〃　said　the　Lady　Marat；　as　she　held　out　her　hand　for　the　Duke's　aid　in　dismounting。　His　voice　and　gesture　were　as　casual　as　if　her　humiliation　did　not　concern　her　in　the　slightest。　But　her　words　indicated　otherwise。　〃I　want　you　to　promise　me　certain　specific　opportunities　of　vengeance；　on　the　day　that　the　castle　that　I　left　yesterday　lies　open　to　your　power。〃
　　　Fraktin　bowed　his　head　slightly。　〃Consider　the　promise　made；　dear　lady。　So　long　as　its　fulfillment　does　not　conflict　with　my　own　needs；　with　the　necessities　of　war。　And　now；　I　suppose　it　likely　that　you　have　something　to　report？〃
　　　But　before　he　could　begin　to　hear　what　it　might　be；　a　trumpet　sounded；　causing　the　Duke　to　turn　away　from　the　lady　momentarily。　He　saw　that　the　head　of　the　long　column　of　his　main　body　of　infantry；　approaching　at　route　step　along　the　road　from　the　northeast；　had　now　e　abreast　of　the　place　where　they　were　talking。　Duke　Fraktin　returned　the　salute　of　the　mounted　officer　who　led　the　column；　then　faced　back　to　his　discussion　with　the　Lady　Marat。　And　all　the　while　that　they　were　talking　there；　the　ragged；　heavy　tramp　of　the　infantry　kept　moving　past　them。
　　　The　Duke　offered　the　lady　refreshment。　But　she　preferred　to　wait　until；　as　she　said；　she　had　made　her　preliminary　report；　and　thus　a　beginning　toward　obtaining　her　revenge。　She　had　plans　for　everyone　in　that　castle；　but　particularly　for　the　knight　who　had　stolen　her　coach　and　treated　her　with　such　total　disrespect。
　　　Duke　Fraktin　listened　with　close　attention　to　her　report；　learning　among　other　things　that　the　dragonhunters'　wagon　had　indeed　gone　on　to　Sir　Andrew's　rather　than　being　destroyed　by　dragons　here。
　　　He　asked：　〃My　courier　did　get　away　from　Sir　Andrew's　castle　with　one　sword；　though？　You　are　sure　of　that？〃
　　　〃Yes；　good　cousin。　Of　that　fact　I　am　very　sure。　Though　I　cannot　be　sure　which　sword　it　was。〃
　　　The　Duke；　not　for　the　first　time；　was　beginning　to　find　this　lady　attractive。　But　he　put　such　thoughts　aside；　knowing　that　right　now　he　had　better　concentrate　on　other　matters。　〃Then　where　is　this　flying　courier　now？　It　has　never　reached　me。〃
　　　The　lady　could　offer　no　explanation。　The　Master　of　the　Beasts；　when　summoned　from　his　place　among　the　Duke's　staff　officers；　gave　his　opinion　that　such　a　dragon　ought　to　be　able　to　fly　easily　and　far；　even　after　being　stabbed　once　or　twice　with　an　ordinary　sword。　The　Master　of　the　Beasts　had　no　explanation　for　the　absence　of　the　courier　either；　except　that；　as　everyone　knew；　dragons　could　be　unreliable。
　　　Now　the　Duke　turned　to　consult　with　yet　another　figure；　who　had　just　dismounted。　〃What　have　you　to　say　about　my　luck　now；　Blue…Robes？　What　of　the　supposed　power　of　this　sword　I　wear？〃
　　　The　magician　spread　his　hands　in　a　placating　gesture。　〃Only　this；　Your　Grace：　that　we　do　not　know　what　your　luck　might　be　now；　if　you　did　not　have　Coinspinner　there　at　your　side。〃
　　　〃I　find　that　answer　something　less　than　adequate；　Blue…Robes。　I　find　it。。。　what　are　you　gawping　at；　you　fish？〃　This　last　was　directed　aside；　at　one　of　the　retainers　of　the　Lady　Marat。　This　man　had　been　driving　the　farm　wagon　when　it　arrived。　Having　been　somewhat　battered　in　the　lady's　service　over　the　past　few　days；　he　was　now　receiving　treatment　for　his　wounds　from　the　Duke's　surgeon。
　　　The　surgeon　looked　up　at　the　Duke's　voice；　and　stilled　his　hands。　The　man　who　had　been　addressed　started　to　say　something；　took　a　second　look　at　the　Duke's　face；　and　threw　himself　prostrate；　bandages　trailing　unsecured。　〃A　thousand　pardons；　Your　Grace。　I　was　remembering　that　I。。。　that　I　thought　I　had　seen　you　at　the　fair。〃
　　　〃What？　At。。。　〃　And　even　as　the　Duke　spoke；　there　came　in　his　brain　the　remembered　echo　of　the　voice　of　someone　else；　telling　him　that　he　had　been　seen　in　some　other　place　where　he　had　never　been。　〃Explain　yourself；　fellow。〃
　　　The　man　began　a　confused　relation　of　what　had　happened　at　Sir　Andrew's　fair；　on　the　night　when　he　and　the　Duke's　other　secret　agents　had　got　their　hands　on　Dragonslicer。　He　told　some　details　of　that　sword's　subsequent　loss；　and　of　the　uncanny；　magically　changing　appearance　of　the　courier　dragon　as　it　had　soared　away。
　　　The　Duke　nodded　thoughtfully。　〃But　me？　Where　did　you　think　that　you　saw　me？〃
　　　〃Right　there　in　the　fairgrounds；　sire。　As　surely　as　I　see　you　now。　I　understand　now　that　what　I　saw　must　have　been　only　an　image　created　by　magic。　But　I　saw　you　running　toward　the　courier　when　it　first　flew　up；　and　I　heard　your　voice　calling　it　down。　And　then　I　saw　you　stab　it。〃
　　　The　Duke　turned　to　look　at　the　Lady　Marat；　who　nodded　in　confirmation。　She　said：　〃Those　are　essentially　the　details　that　I　was　about　to　add　in　my　own　report。〃
　　　Next　the　Duke　looked　at　his　wizard；　whose　eyes　were　closed。　The　blue…robed　one　muttered；　as　if　to　himself：　〃We　knew　there　was　another　of　the　swords　involved；　located　at　Sir　Andrew's　castle。　And　now　we　know　which　one　it　was。　That　called　Sightblinder；　or　the　Sword　of　Stealth。　It　is。。。〃
　　　The　Duke　jogged　his　arm；　manding　silence。　〃Wait。〃
　　　Something　was　going　on；　up　in　the　vaguely　dripping　sky。　The　Master　of　the　Beasts；　with　head　tilted　back；　was　calling　and　gesturing。　Now　a　reptilian　messenger　of　some　kind　…　the　Duke　was　unable　to　distinguish　the　finer　gradations　of　hybrid　dragons　and　other　flying　life　…　could　be　seen　in　a　descending　spiral。　Alas；　thought　Duke　Fraktin；　watching；　but　this　creature　was　too　small　to　be　the　courier　that　had　disappeared　with　one　of　the　swords。　This　was　some　smaller　flying　scout　reporting。
　　　In　fact　it　was　small　enough　to　perch　upon　the　Master's　wrist　when　it　came　down。　He　carried　it　to　some　little　distance　from　the　gathering　of　other　humans；　that　the　Duke　might　be　able　to　receive　its　news；　whatever　it　might　be；　with　some　degree　of　privacy。
　　　In　a　hoarse　whisper　the　Master　translated　the　report　for　the　Duke　a　few　words　at　a　time；　first　listening　to　the　dragon's　painfully　acplished；　almost　unintelligible　half…speech；　then　turning　his　head　to　speak　in　human　words。　〃Your　Grace；　this　concerns　the　dragonhunter；　the　man　whose　human　name　is　Nestor。〃
　　　〃Aye；　aye；　I　know　of　him。　He　wronged　me　once。　But　what　has　he　to　do　with　our　present　situation？〃　Passing　this　query　on　to　the　dragon　was　a　slow　and　difficult　process　also。　Sometimes　the　Duke　thought　that　his　Beast…Master；　indispensably　skilled　though　the　man　was；　had　grown　half…witted　through　decades　of　conversation　with　his　charges。
　　　At　length　a　reply　came　back。　〃It　is　that　this　Nestor　has　been　carried　off　into　the　Great　Swamp；　sire。　By　a　great　flying　dragon；　not　one　of　ours。〃
　　　〃A　grown　man；　carried　off　by　a　flyer？　Preposterous。　And　yet。。。　but　what　else　is　it　trying　to　say？〃
　　　Another　guttural　exchange　took　place　between　trainer　and　beast。　〃It　says；　the　Gray　Horde；　sire。　It　tells　me　that　the　Gray　Horde　is　raised；　and　marches　toward　Sir　Andrew's　lands。〃
　　　There　was　silence；　except　for　the　drip　of　water　from　the　trees；　and　the　eternal　background　tramp　of　marching　soldiery。　At　last　the　Duke　breathed：　〃Someone　has　taken　a　great　gamble；　then。　Raised　by　whom？〃　Although　he　thought　that　he　could　guess。
　　　There　was　another　exchange　of　bestial　noises。　Then　the　Beast…Master　said：　〃By　humans　who　follow　a　woman；　sire。　A　woman　mounted　on　a　warbeast；　and　leading　a　human　army　through　the　swamp。〃
　　　Duke　Fraktin　nodded　slowly；　and　made　a　gesture　of　dismissal。　The　Master　rewarded　his　charge　with　a　small　dried　lizard；　laced　with　a　drug　that　would　give　the　flyer　a　sleep　of　delightful　dreams。
　　　Meanwhile　the　Duke；　walking　the　short　distance　back　to　where　his　staff　and　the　Lady　Marat　were　waiting　for　him；　prepared　to　call　a　major　conference。　Things　had　changed。　What　confronted　him　now　was　no　longer　the　simple　conquest　of　a　smaller　power　that　he　had　planned。
It　appeared　to　him　that　the　gods　were　once　more　actively　entering　the　affairs　of　humankind。
Chapter　15
　　　The　screaming　of　the　sword　had　seemed　to　Nestor　to　go　on　at　its　full　voice　for　centuries。　But　then　at　last　it　had　declined　to　a　low　whine；　and　now　it　was　dying　down　to　silence。　And　the　life；　the　power　that　still　flowed　from　the　hilt　into　Nestor's　shaking　hands　was　gradually　dying　too。
　　　Gasping　with　exhaustion；　his　skin　slippery　everywhere　with　sweat　and　in　places　with　his　own　blood；　he　took　one　staggering　step　forward。　The　long；　sloping　hill　of　rubble　was　still　before　him；　and　he　still　stood　at　the　top　of　it　alive。　He　looked　round　him　for　something；　some　deadwood　figure；　to　strike　at　with　the　sword。　But　none　of　those　that　were　still　in　sight　were　still　erect。
　　　He　could　still　hear；　starting　to　fade　with　distance　now；　the　myriad　whining　voices　of　the　larvae…army。　Those　gray　ranks　had　split　around　the　temple　and　gone　on。　But　not　all　of　them。　Over　a　broad；　fan…shaped　area　of　the　slope　immediately　in　front　of　Nestor；　the　hill　had　gained　a　new　layer　of　rubble。　It　was　the　debris　of　a　hundred　gray　bodies；　hewn　by　Townsaver　into　chunks　of　melting　mud。
　　　Those　fallen　bodies　were　all　quiet　now。　Nothing　but　the　returning　rain　moved　on　the　whole　slope。
　　　Stray　drops　of　rain　touched　Nestor's　face。　And　he　turned　round　slowly　in　his　tracks；　looking　dazedly　at　the