fs.thesecondbookofswords-第47部分

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　　　The　sergeant　wore　no　badge　of　rank；　but　there　was　no　doubt　of　who　he　was。　He　acted　like　a　sergeant；　striding　through　the　ranks；　barking　mands；　inspiring　terror；　yelling　and　kicking　at　anyone　who　displeased　him。　The　drill　went　on　unendingly。　It　had　always　been　going　on；　thought　Ben；　and　it　always　would　be；　and　even　that　last　sleep　from　which　he　could　remember　being　awakened　was　really　only　one　more　illusion　born　of　magic。　Nowhere　could　Ben　find　the　foothold　of　hope　that　he　would　have　to　have　to　be　able　to　rebel　against　the　sergeant's　orders。
　　　He　didn't　know　where　he　was；　except　that　he　was　still　inside　the　cave。　Which　way　was　out？　And　where　were　the　other　people　who　had　been　captured　with　him？　Were　Ariane；　Mark；　Doon　all　dead？　He　tried　once　to　ask　a　question　of　the　sergeant；　and　got　a　curse　and　a　kick　for　answer。
　　　The　drilling　and　the　marching　went　on　and　on。　There　was　a　mindlessness　about　it　that　precluded　even　sadism　as　a　motive。　It　was；　like　most　basic　training；　utterly　pointless　except　that　it　instilled　the　habit　of　instant　obedience　to　mand；　and　it　filled　the　time。
　　　At　last　there　came　an　end；　or　at　least　an　interruption。　Ben　was　allowed　to　return　to　his　barracks…bed　and　rest。　But　it　seemed　to　him　that　as　soon　as　he　had　closed　his　eyes；　he　was　aroused　again；　and　made　to　stagger　back　to　drill　some　more；　this　time　for　an　even　longer　period　than　before。　He　felt　beyond　exhaustion；　as　if　his　body　and　mind　alike　were　struggling　through　thick　cotton　padding。　He　was　caught　in　some　mesh　of　magic；　so　that　he　hardly　knew　any　longer　who　he　was；　or　had　been；　or　whether　this　existence　constituted　suffering　or　was　only　the　standard　of　the　universe；　with　nothing　else　left　in　the　universe　to　judge　it　by。
　　　March　and　rest。　Drill　and　rest。　Then　march　again。　The　real　merged　with　the　unreal。　Ben　told　himself　that　he　was　dreaming　this　horror；　he　had　to　be。　Or　else　all　the　rest　of　his　life；　before　his　entrance　with　Doon　into　the　cave；　had　been　a　wonderful　but　lying　dream。
　　　Voices；　some　real　and　some　fantastic　（and　no　way　of　telling　which　was　which）　taunted　him　with　the　thought　that　never　again　would　he　see　Ariane。　Never。。。　except；　perhaps；　just　once　a　century　or　so；　he'd　be　able　to　catch　a　glimpse　of　her　across　the　battlefield　during　some　brawl；　and　would　see　how　the　long　decades　as　an　Amazon　had　changed　her。　He　would　still　know　her；　by　her　hair　if　nothing　else。　And　then　after　the　battle　he　might　be　able　to　see　her　across　the　hall　of　celebration；　with　foulness　unspeakable　and　impassable　filling　all　the　space　between　them。。。
　　　。。。　and　from　time　to　time　he　was　allowed　to　tumble　back　into　his　barracks…bed　to　rest。　When　his　eyes　closed；　he　feared　to　dream；　and　dreaming　he　feared　even　more　to　wake。
　　　He　knew　that　somewhere；　in　the　real　world；　whatever　that　might　really　be；　many　days　at　least　were　passing。
　　　Benambra；　the　First　High　Priest；　came　in　a　litter　and　looked　at　him　once；　and　said　something　through　withered　lips；　and　smiled　and　went　away。。。
　　　From　time　to　time　Ben　was　allowed；　or　perhaps　pelled；　to　sit　at　a　table　in　a　dimly　lit　space　called　a　messhall；　where　stuff　was　put　before　him　on　a　plate。　He　really　couldn't　think　of　it　as　food。　Slop；　worse　than　anything　that　the　Blue　Temple　had　ever　tried　to　feed　him　as　a　recruit　topside；　his　first　hitch。　This　was　the　second　time　that　he'd　been　taken　into　Blue　Temple　service；　and　if　they　ever　found　out；　ever　realized　who　he　was　and　how　that　first　hitch　of　his　had　ended。。。
　　　But　usually　Ben　was　too　stupefied　to　even　worry　about　that。
　　　Just　as　he　was　allowed　or　perhaps　pelled　to　eat；　so　it　was　with　his　dreams。　Sometimes　the　dreams　that　were　permitted　or　inflicted　were　not　ordinary　nightmares；　but　instead　strange　yearning　visions　in　which　Ben　walked　again　the　sweet　fair　earth　above；　and　never　thought　of　gold；　and　saw　the　face　of　Ariane。　She　was　free　too；　and　smiled　at　him。　Once　or　twice　there　appeared　a　short　man　with　a　clown's　painted　face；　wearing　a　gray　cloak；　who　laughed　and　pointed　as　if　it　were　all　some　happy　joke。　Then　the　next　thing　Ben　knew；　she　was　with　him；　holding　his　hand　and　smiling；　asking　him　where　he　wanted　to　go　next。。。
　　　。。。　and　next　he　would　wake　up　to　darkness；　and　the　groans　of　someone　else　bound　down　in　magical　punishment　nearby。
　　　Oh　yes；　he　would　be　allowed　to　see　her　again　someday。　On　the　battlefield；　as　the　tormenting　voices　told　him。　And　after　the　battle　if　he　still　lived　（maybe　after　he'd　watched　her　die）　he'd　be　allowed　his　drink；　allowed　to　joke　and　bellow　with　his　rades；　to　fall　down　drunk；　gradually　to　forget　that　once　he　had　been　someone　else。
　　　While　he　was　actually　drilling　or　marching；　lucid　moments　were　allowed　to　him　more　often。　And　in　these　moments　Ben　was　able　to　swear　solemnly　to　himself　that　he　would　never　fight　for　the　Blue　Temple。　But　even　as　he　swore　he　feared　the　pulsions　that　were　being　put　upon　him；　that　would　leave　him　no　real　choice　when　the　time　came。　He　might　once　have　sworn　that　he　would　never　endure　the　kind　of　existence　that　he　was　enduring　now。　When　the　time　es；　you'll　fight　all　right。　Or　die；　and　you　won't　want　to　die。　Who　had　said　that　to　him；　the　sergeant？　And　truthfully　life　was　precious；　even　now。
　　　Then　without　warning　there　arrived　a　day　and　an　hour　when　the　mists　of　magical　pulsion　were　wiped　away。　Ben　was　sleeping；　then　he　was　awake；　and　in　a　moment　it　was　as　if　those　mists　had　never　been；　even　though　when　he　opened　his　eyes　the　cave　and　the　barracks　area　of　the　punishment　pany　were　still　as　hideously　real　as　ever。
　　　Ben　was　allowed　to　stand　up　from　his　bed　as　his　own　man　again。　Two　sober　Whitehands　were　standing　nearby；　holding　torches；　so　that　he　had　to　squint　in　unaccustomed　light。　Also　nearby　there　crouched　a　large；　gray　warbeast；　a　catlike　creature　bigger　than　a　man；　who　hummed　an　intelligent　warning　growl　at　Ben。
　　　Another　figure；　human；　stood　beside　the　beast。　It　was　real　also；　someone　Ben　had　never　seen　in　dreams。
　　　Not　Ariane　who　had　e　for　him　this　time。
　　　Radulescu。
　　　〃Ben　of　Purkinje；　we　meet　again。　Keep　quiet！〃
　　　The　mand　at　the　end　was　really　unnecessary。　Seeing　this；　and　smiling　faintly；　the　officer　made　a　gesture。　One　of　the　Whitehands　moved　off　obediently　with　his　torch；　showing　Ben　which　way　to　go。　Ben　followed　automatically；　thinking　as　he　moved　that　Radulescu　looked　good；　looked　fit　and　healthy；　his　small　beard　neatly　trimmed；　his　clothes　and　his　body　clean。　Before　Radulescu　fell　into　step　just　behind　him；　Ben　had　time　to　see　that　there　was　a　sword　…　the　same　sword　he　had　once　tried　to　draw；　just　outside　the　cave？　…　at　the　officer's　belt。　And　he　was　wearing　what　looked　like　the　same　officer's　cloak　of　gold　and　blue；　though　it　was　dry　now　and　the　hood　was　lowered。　Despite　all　greater　considerations；　Ben　instantly　felt　the　contrast　with　the　way　that　he　himself　felt　and　smelled　and　must　appear。
　　　He　was　quite　clearheaded　now；　in　control　of　his　own　body　and　his　own　thoughts。　But　with　the　warbeast　sniffing　at　his　heels　as　he　walked；　he　was　really　no　freer　than　before。　Unless　he　wanted　to　decide　to　end　things　quickly　now；　before　Radulescu's　interrogation　and　revenge　could　start　…　but　no；　it　was　unlikely　that　the　beast　would　kill　him　quickly；　unless　it　were　ordered　to　do　so。　Warbeasts　were　intelligent　enough　to　handle　fine　gradations　of　mand。
　　　They　had　walked　for　only　a　hundred　meters　when；　to　Ben's　faint　surprise；　they　came　upon　Mitspieler　and　Doon；　looking　as　shabby　as　Ben　felt；　also　under　guard　and　apparently　waiting　for　the　arrival　of　Ben　and　Radulescu。　Here　another　warbeast　and　two　more　Whitehands　were　in　attendance。　There　was　enough　torchlight　now　for　Ben　to　see；　at　some　distance　ahead；　the　great　curve　of　the　cave's　ceiling　ing　down　to　make　a　wall。　It　looked　like　the　same　place　where　they　had　been　captured　…　but　then；　the　different　sides　of　this　cave　might　look　much　alike。
　　　Ben　came　up　to　where　the　others　were　and　obeyed　an　order　to　halt。　Now　he　saw　with　a　shock　of　mixed　feelings　that　Mark　and　Ariane　were　waiting　nearby　also；　sitting　in　what　had　been　the　shadow　of　an　empty　bed　and　was　now　torchlight。　They　looked　up　as　if　they　were　glad　to　see　him；　but　said　nothing。　Ben　saw　in　Mark's　familiar　eye　that　t