uleg.thefarthestshore-第6节

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eparted。
　　The　fire　crackled　in　the　hearth。　There　was　no　other　sound。　Outside　the　windows　the　fog　pressed　formless　and　dim。
　　The　Archmage　stared　into　the　flames；　seeming　to　have　forgotten　Arren's　presence。　The　boy　stood　at　some　distance　from　the　hearth；　not　knowing　if　he　should　take　his　leave　or　wait　to　be　dismissed；　irresolute　and　somewhat　desolate；　feeling　again　like　a　small　figure　in　a　dark；　illimitable；　confusing　space。
　　〃We'll　go　first　to　Hort　Town；〃　said　Sparrowhawk；　turning　his　back　to　the　fire。　〃News　gathers　there　from　all　the　South　Reach；　and　we　may　find　a　lead。　Your　ship　still　waits　in　the　bay。　Speak　to　the　master；　let　him　carry　word　to　your　father。　I　think　we　should　leave　as　soon　as　may　be。　At　daybreak　tomorrow。　e　to　the　steps　by　the　boathouse。〃
　　〃My　lord；　what…〃　His　voice　stuck　a　moment。　〃What　is　it　you　seek？〃
　　〃I　don't　know；　Arren。〃
　　〃Then…〃
　　〃Then　how　shall　I　seek　it？　Neither　do　I　know　that。　Maybe　it　will　seek　me。〃　He　grinned　a　little　at　Arren；　but　his　face　was　like　iron　in　the　grey　light　of　the　windows。
　　〃My　lord；〃　Arren　said；　and　his　voice　was　steady　now；　〃it　is　true　I　e　of　the　lineage　of　Morred；　if　any　tracing　of　lineage　so　old　be　true。　And　if　I　can　serve　you　I　will　account　it　the　greatest　chance　and　honor　of　my　life；　and　there　is　nothing　I　would　rather　do。　But　I　fear　that　you　mistake　me　for　something　more　than　I　am。　〃
　　〃Maybe；〃　said　the　Archmage。
　　〃I　have　no　great　gifts　or　skills。　I　can　fence　with　the　short　sword　and　the　noble　sword。　I　can　sail　a　boat。　I　know　the　court　dances　and　the　country　dances。　I　can　mend　a　quarrel　between　courtiers。　I　can　wrestle。　I　am　a　poor　archer；　and　I　am　skillful　at　the　game　of　net…ball。　I　can　sing；　and　play　the　harp　and　lute。　And　that　is　all。　There　is　no　more。　What　use　will　I　be　to　you？　The　Master　Summoner　is　right…〃
　　〃Ah；　you　saw　that；　did　you？　He's　jealous。　He　claims　the　privilege　of　older　loyalty。〃
　　〃And　greater　skill；　my　lord。〃
　　〃Then　you'd　rather　he　went　with　me；　and　you　stayed　behind？〃
　　〃No！　But　I　fear…〃
　　〃Fear　what？〃
　　Tears　sprang　to　the　boy's　eyes。　〃To　fail　you；〃　he　said。
　　The　Archmage　turned　around　again　to　the　fire。　〃Sit　down；　Arren；〃　he　said；　and　the　boy　came　to　the　stone　corner…seat　of　the　hearth。　〃I　did　not　mistake　you　for　a　wizard　or　a　warrior　or　any　finished　thing。　What　you　are　I　do　not　know；　though　I'm　glad　to　know　that　you　can　sail　a　boat。。。　What　you　will　be；　no　one　knows。　But　this　much　I　do　know：　you　are　the　son　of　Morred　and　of　Serriadh。〃
　　Arren　was　silent。　〃That　is　true；　my　lord；〃　he　said　at　last。　〃But。。。〃　The　Archmage　said　nothing；　and　he　had　to　finish　his　sentence：　〃But　I　am　not　Morred。　I　am　only　myself。〃
　　〃You　take　no　pride　in　your　lineage？〃
　　〃Yes；　I　take　pride　in　it　…because　it　makes　me　a　prince；　it　is　a　responsibility；　a　thing　that　must　be　lived　up　to…〃
　　The　Archmage　nodded　once；　sharply。　〃That　is　what　I　meant。　To　deny　the　past　is　to　deny　the　future。　A　man　does　not　make　his　destiny：　he　accepts　it　or　denies　it。　If　the　rowan's　roots　are　shallow；　it　bears　no　crown。〃　At　this　Arren　looked　up　startled；　for　his　true　name；　Lebannen；　meant　the　rowan　tree。　But　the　Archmage　had　not　said　his　name。　〃Your　roots　are　deep；〃　he　went　on。　〃You　have　strength　and　you　must　have　room；　room　to　grow。　Thus　I　offer　you；　instead　of　a　safe　trip　home　to　Enlad；　an　unsafe　voyage　to　an　unknown　end。　You　need　not　e。　The　choice　is　yours。　But　I　offer　you　the　choice。　For　I　am　tired　of　safe　places；　and　roofs；　and　walls　around　me。〃　He　ended　abruptly；　looking　about　him　with　piercing；　unseeing　eyes。　Arren　saw　the　deep　restlessness　of　the　man；　and　it　frightened　him。　Yet　fear　sharpens　exhilaration；　and　it　was　with　a　leap　of　the　heart　that　he　answered；　〃My　lord；　I　choose　to　go　with　you。〃
　　Arren　left　the　Great　House　with　his　heart　and　mind　full　of　wonder。　He　told　himself　that　he　was　happy；　but　the　word　did　not　seem　to　suit。　He　told　himself　that　the　Archmage　had　called　him　strong；　a　man　of　destiny；　and　that　he　was　proud　of　such　praise；　but　he　was　not　proud。　Why　not？　The　most　powerful　wizard　in　the　world　told　him；　〃Tomorrow　we　sail　to　the　edge　of　doom；〃　and　he　nodded　his　head　and　came：　should　he　not　feel　pride？　But　he　did　not。　He　felt　only　wonder。
　　He　went　down　through　the　steep；　wandering　streets　of　Thwil　Town；　found　his　ship's　master　on　the　Quays；　and　said　to　him；　〃I　sail　tomorrow　with　the　Archmage；　to　Wathort　and　the　South　Reach。　Tell　the　Prince　my　father　that　when　I　am　released　from　this　service　I　will　e　home　to　Berila。〃
　　The　ship's　captain　looked　dour。　He　knew　how　the　bringer　of　such　news　might　be　received　by　the　Prince　of　Enlad。　〃I　must　have　writing　about　it　from　your　hand；　prince；〃　he　said。　Seeing　the　justice　in　that；　Arren　hurried　off　…he　felt　that　all　must　be　done　instantly…　and　found　a　strange　little　shop　where　he　purchased　inkstone　and　brush　and　a　piece　of　soft　paper；　thick　as　felt；　then　he　hurried　back　to　the　quays　and　sat　down　on　the　wharfside　to　write　his　parents。　When　he　thought　of　his　mother　holding　this　piece　of　paper；　reading　the　letter；　a　distress　came　into　him。　She　was　a　blithe；　patient　woman；　but　Arren　knew　that　he　was　the　foundation　of　her　contentment；　that　she　longed　for　his　quick　return。　There　was　no　way　to　fort　her　for　his　long　absence。　His　letter　was　dry　and　brief。　He　signed　with　the　sword…rune；　sealed　the　letter　with　a　bit　of　pitch　from　a　caulking…pot　nearby；　and　gave　it　to　the　ship's　master。　Then；　〃Wait！〃　he　said；　as　if　the　ship　were　ready　to　set　sail　that　instant；　and　ran　back　up　the　cobbled　streets　to　the　strange　little　shop。　He　had　trouble　finding　it；　for　there　was　something　shifty　about　the　streets　of　Thwil；　it　almost　seemed　that　the　turnings　were　different　every　time。　He　came　on　the　right　street　at　last　and　darted　into　the　shop　under　the　strings　of　red　clay　beads　that　ornamented　its　doorway。　When　he　was　buying　ink　and　paper　he　had　noticed；　on　a　tray　of　clasps　and　brooches；　a　silver　brooch　in　the　shape　of　a　wild　rose；　and　his　mother　was　called　Rose。　〃I'll　buy　that；〃　he　said；　in　his　hasty；　princely　way。
　　〃Ancient　silverwork　of　the　Isle　of　O。　I　can　see　you　are　a　judge　of　the　old　crafts；〃　said　the　shopkeeper；　looking　at　the　hilt　…not　the　handsome　sheath…　of　Arren's　sword。　〃That　will　be　four　in　ivory。〃
　　Arren　paid　the　rather　high　price　unquestioning；　he　had　in　his　purse　plenty　of　the　ivory　counters　that　serve　as　money　in　the　Inner　Lands。　The　idea　of　a　gift　for　his　mother　pleased　him；　the　act　of　buying　pleased　him；　as　he　left　the　shop　he　set　his　hand　on　the　pommel　of　his　sword；　with　a　touch　of　swagger。
　　His　father　had　given　him　that　sword　on　the　eve　of　his　departure　from　Enlad。　He　had　received　it　solemnly　and　had　worn　it；　as　if　it　were　a　duty　to　wear　it；　even　aboard　ship。　He　was　proud　of　the　weight　of　it　at　his　hip；　the　weight　of　its　great　age　on　his　spirit。　For　it　was　the　sword　of　Serriadh　who　was　the　son　of　Morred　and　Elfarran；　there　was　none　older　in　the　world　except　the　sword　of　Erreth…Akbe；　which　was　set　atop　the　Tower　of　the　Kings　in　Havnor。　The　sword　of　Serriadh　had　never　been　laid　away　or　hoarded　up；　but　worn；　yet　was　unworn　by　the　centuries；　unweakened；　because　it　had　been　forged　with　a　great　power　of　enchantment。　Its　history　said　that　it　never　had　been　drawn；　nor　ever　could　be　drawn；　except　in　the　service　of　life。　For　no　purpose　of　bloodlust　or　revenge　or　greed；　in　no　war　for　gain；　would　it　let　itself　be　wielded。　From　it；　the　great　treasure　of　his　family；　Arren　had　received　his　use…name：　Arrendek　he　had　been　called　as　a　child；　'the　little　Sword。'
　　He　had　not　used　the　sword；　nor　had　his　father；　nor　his　grandfather。　There　had　been　peace　in　Enlad　for　a　long　time。
　　And　now；　in　the　street　of　the　strange　town　of　the　Wizards'　Isle；　the　sword's　handle　felt　strange　to　him　when　he　touched　it。　It　was　awkward　to　his　hand　and　cold。　Heavy；　the　sword　hindered　his　walk；　dragged　at　him。　And　the　wonder　he　had　felt　was　still　in　him；　but　had　gone　cold。　He　went　back　down　to　the　quay；　and　gave　the　brooch　to　the　ship's　master　for　his　mother；　and　bade　him　farewell　and　a　safe　voyage　home。　Turning　away　he　pulled　his　cloak　over　the　sheath　that　held　the　old；　unyielding　weapon；　the　deadly　thing　he　had　inherited。　He　did　not　feel　like　swaggering　any　more。　〃What　am　I　doing？〃　he　said　to　himself　as　he　climbed　the　narrow　ways；　not　hurrying　now；　to　the　fortress…bulk　of　the　Great　House　above　the　town。　〃How　is　it　that　I'm　not　going　home？　Why　am　I　seeking　something　I　don't　understand；　with　a　man　I　don't　know？〃
　　And　he　had　no　answer　to　his　questions。
　
　Hort　Town
　
　　In　the　darkness　before　dawn　Arren　dressed　in　clothing　that　had　been　given　him；　seaman's　garb；　wellworn　but　clean；　and　hurried　down　through　the　silent　halls　of　the　Great　House　to　the　eastern　door；　carven　of　horn　and　dragon's　tooth。　There　the　Doorkeeper　let　him　out　and　pointed　the　way　that　he　should　take；　smiling　a　little。　He　followed　the　topmost　street　of　the　town　and　then　a　path　that　led　down　to　the　boathouses　of　the　School；　south　along　the　bay　shore　from　the　docks　of　Thwil。　He　could　just　make　out　his　way。　Trees；　roofs；　hills　bulked　as　dim　masses　within　dimness；　the　dark　air　was　utterly　still　and　very　cold；　everything　held　still；　held　itself　withdrawn　and　obscure。　Only　over　the　dark　sea　eastward　was　there　one　faint；　clear　line：　the　horizon；　tipping　momently　to