df.therunelords-第46部分

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t　hopes。　The　first　great　hope　was　that　someday　he　would　return　to　Heredon　and　see　his　daughter　once　more。
　He　gazed　at　her；　saw　how　she'd　grown　beautiful　like　her　mother；　and　he　could　not　help　but　weep　at　seeing　his　greatest　dream　fulfilled。
　Chemoise　watched　her　father's　eyes　fill　with　tears。　He　gasped　for　breath；　struggling　from　moment　to　moment　to　stay　alive；　unable　to　relax　enough　to　let　his　lungs　fill。　She　wondered　how　he　could　have　kept　this　up　for　six　long　years。
　〃Are　you　all　right？〃　she　asked。　〃What　can　I　do　for　you？〃
　For　a　long　moment　he　struggled　to　speak　two　words：　〃Kill。。。us。〃
　
　BOOK　3
　　
　DAY　21　IN　THE　MONTH　OF　HARVEST
　A　DAY　OF　DECEPTION
　
　Chapter　13
　PRAGMATIC　KING　ORDEN
　　
　Thirty　miles　to　the　south　of　Castle　Sylvarresta；　a　high　rock　called　Tor　Hollick　rose　four　hundred　feet　above　the　Dunnwood；　and　from　its　crags　one　could　gaze　far。
　Once；　long　in　the　past；　a　fortress　had　stood　here；　but　few　of　the　stones　remained　one　atop　another。　Many　had　been　carried　away　to　build　walls　for　peasants'　homes。
　King　Mendellas　Draken　Orden　sat　unfortably　on　a　broken；　lichen…crusted　pillar；　staring　away　over　the　rolling　hills；　the　tops　of　trees　that　stirred　in　the　night　wind。　His　cape　of　green　samite　fluttered　on　the　small　breeze。　A　cup　of　too…sweet　tea　warmed　his　hands。　In　the　air　above　him；　a　pair　of　nesting　graaks　circled　on　leather　wings；　calling　out　softly　in　the　darkness；　their　batlike　shapes　huge　against　the　stars。
　King　Orden　ignored　them；　his　attention　focused　elsewhere。　A　fire　burned　on　a　distant　hill。　Castle　Sylvarresta　aflame？
　Orden　found　the　very　thought　to　be　harrowing。　It　was　more　than　a　pain　of　the　heart；　it　was　a　pain　of　the　mind　and　of　the　soul。　Over　the　years；　he'd　learned　to　love　this　realm　and　its　king　dearly。　Perhaps；　he　loved　it　too　dearly。　He　was　riding　now　into　danger。
　According　to　Orden's　scouts；　Raj　Ahten　had　reached　the　castle　by　midday。　The　Wolf　Lord　could　have　mounted　a　quick　attack；　burned　the　castle。
　On　seeing　the　glowing　sky；　Orden　feared　the　worst。
　Two　thousand　troops　camped　in　the　woods　below　his　perch。　His　men　were　exhausted　after　a　day　of　riding　at　an　incredible　pace。　Borenson　had　raced　to　his　king　after　leaving　Gaborn。　A　hard　flight　it　had　beenBorenson　had　left　four　assassins　dead　in　his　trail。
　King　Orden　found　his　heart　hammering　at　the　thought　of　his　son；　there　in　that　burning　castle。　He　wanted　to　send　a　spy　in　and　learn　where　Gaborn　was；　how　he'd　fared。　He　wanted　to　charge　the　castle　and　save　his　son。　Such　useless　thoughts　preyed　on　him。　He　would　have　stood　and　paced；　if　his　rocky　perch　had　given　him　the　room。
　No；　he　could　do　nothing　except　grow　angry　at　Gaborn。　So　foolhardy；　such　a　strong…willed　boy。　And　yet　so　hopelessly　stupid。　Did　the　boy　really　believe　Raj　Ahten　sought　to　take　only　the　castle？　Surely　Raj　Ahten　knew　that　Orden　journeyed　each　year　to　Castle　Sylvarresta　for　the　hunt。　And　the　key　to　destroying　the　North　was　to　destroy　House　Orden。
　No；　this　entire　escapade　was　little　more　than　a　trap。　A　lion　hunt；　in　the　manner　of　the　South；　with　beaters　in　the　bushes　and　the　spearmen　somewhere　in　the　rear。　Clever　of　Raj　Ahten　to　beat　the　bushes；　to　take　Castle　Sylvarresta　as　a　distraction。　Orden　had　already　sent　scouts　to　the　south　and　to　the　east；　hoping　to　discover　what　spearmen　blocked　his　road　home。　Surely　every　path　was　guarded。　If　Raj　Ahten　played　his　part　well；　he　might　yet　destroy　House　Orden　and　take　Heredon　in　the　bargain。　King　Orden　expected　to　hear　nothing　from　his　scouts　for　a　day　or　more。
　It　was　foolhardy　of　Gaborn　to　go　to　Sylvarresta。　Foolhardy　and　great　of　heart。
　Yet　King　Orden　had　long　been　Sylvarresta's　friend；　and　he　knew　that　had　the　tables　been　turned；　had　he　been　the　first　to　hear　that　Jas　Laren　Sylvarresta　stood　in　need；　he'd　have　ridden　hard　to　fight　beside　his　old　rade。
　Now　Orden　had　to　satisfy　himself　by　watching　the　city　burn　from　afar；　awaiting　reports　from　the　scouts　who　rode　ahead。　He　had　six　scouts　on　good　force　horses。　It　would　not　be　a　long　wait。　Though　his　soldiers　and　their　horses　needed　rest；　Mendellas　would　not　sleep　this　night；　perhaps　not　for　many　nights　to　e。　With　some　forty　endowments　of　stamina；　he　need　never　sleep　again；　if　he　did　not　so　desire。
　Certainly；　Raj　Ahten　would　not　sleep　tonight。
　On　the　rock　above　him　sat　Orden's　Days；　and　his　son's。　King　Orden　looked　up　at　the　men；　wondering。　Why　did　Gaborn's　Days　not　go　to　him？　If　Gaborn　was　at　Castle　Sylvarresta；　then　the　Days　should　follow。　He'd　know　if　another　Days　spotted　Gaborn。　Or　perhaps　Gaborn's　whereabouts　did　not　matter。　Perhaps　his　son　was　captured；　or　dead？
　As　he　kept　his　slow　watch　over　the　next　hour；　letting　his　mind　drift　and　dream；　he　considered　his　own　defenses　at　home。　King　Orden　sometimes　had。。。impressions。。。of　danger；　felt　the　presence　of　reavers　on　his　southern　border。　As　a　child；　his　father　had　told　him　that　these　impressions　were　the　heritage　of　kings；　a　birthright。　He　considered　now；　but　felt　nothing。
　He　wondered　about　the　fortresses　on　his　borders。　Were　they　secure？
　A　scout　soon　reached　King　Orden　with　news。　Sylvarresta　had　indeed　fallencaptured　at　sunset　without　a　fight。
　Worse　than　Orden　had　feared。　At　that　news；　King　Orden　took　a　lacquered　oak　message　case　that　had　been　tucked　inside　his　belt。　It　was　a　message　to　King　Sylvarresta；　sealed　with　the　signet　of　the　Duke　of　Longmont。
　King　Orden's　scouts　had　intercepted　Longmot's　messenger　at　dawn；　if　〃intercepted〃　was　the　proper　word。　More　particularly；　Orden's　scout　had　found　the　man　dead；　his　corpse　concealed　in　the　brush　beside　the　road；　killed　by　an　assassin's　arrow。　Orden's　scouts　would　not　have　recovered　the　message　box　if　not　for　the　stink　of　the　body。
　The　countryside　was　crawling　with　assassins；　set　along　the　road　in　pairs。
　Under　normal　circumstances；　Orden　would　have　respected　the　privacy　of　the　parties　involved；　would　have　delivered　the　message　case　to　Sylvarresta　himself。　But　Sylvarresta　had　fallen；　and　Orden　worried　that　Longmont　had　sent　word　of　evil　tidings。　Perhaps　it；　too；　was　besieged。　It　was；　next　to　Castle　Sylvarresta；　the　most　defensible　fortress　in　all　Heredon。　Though　nineteen　other　fortifications　dotted　the　kingdom；　they　guarded　smaller　cities　and　villages。　Five　of　the　fortresses　were　only　minor　keeps。
　So　King　Orden　broke　the　wax　seal　on　the　message　case；　pulled　out　the　fine　yellow　parchment　scroll；　unrolled　it；　and　read　by　starlight。　The　flowing　script　was　obviously　written　by　a　feminine　hand；　but　had　been　written　hastily；　with　words　crossed　out：
　To　His　Most　Rightful　Sovereign　King；　Jas　Laren　Sylvarresta：　All　Honor　and　Good　Cheer　Wishes；　from　His　Most　Devoted　Subject；　The　Duchess　Emmadine　Ot　Laren
　Dearest　Uncle：　You　are　betrayed。　Unbeknown　to　me；　my　husband　has　sold　you；　permitting　Raj　Ahten's　forces　to　move　through　the　Dunnwood。　Apparently；　my　husband　hoped　to　rule　as　regent　in　your　stead；　should　Heredon　fall。
　But　Raj　Ahten　himself　was　here　two　nights　ago；　with　a　powerful　army。　My　husband　ordered　the　drawbridge　lowered　for　him；　kept　our　soldiers　at　bay。
　In　one　long　night；　Raj　Ahten　came　and　took　endowments　from　many。　He　repaid　my　husband's　treachery　with　treachery　of　his　own；　hanging　him　by　his　guts　from　the　iron　grates　outside　the　window　of　his　own　bedroom。
　Raj　Ahten　knows　better　than　to　trust　a　traitor。
　As　for　me；　he　treated　me　badly；　using　me　as　only　a　husband　should　use　his　wife。　Then　he　forced　me　to　grant　him　an　endowment　of　glamour；　and　he　left　a　regent；　some　scholars；　and　a　small　army　to　manage　the　city　in　his　absence。
　For　two　days　his　regent　has　tried　to　suck　this　land　dry；　taking　endowments　by　the　hundreds。　He　cares　little　whether　those　who　give　the　endowments　live　or　die。　So　many　Dedicates　lie　heaped　in　the　bailey；　no　one　will　be　able　to　care　for　them。　I　myself　he　used　as　a　vector；　taking　glamour　from　hundreds　of　women；　while　my　sons；　Wren　and　Dru；　though　they　are　mere　children；　now　vector　stamina　and　grace　to　the　Wolf　Lord。
　It　was　not　till　an　hour　ago　that　our　own　servants　and　a　few　guards　managed　to　revolt；　overthrowing　our　tormentors。　It　was　a　bloody　struggle。
　But　all　was　not　for　nothing。　We　have　captured　forty　thousand　forcibles！
　Here；　King　Orden　halted；　for　his　breath　sudd