rh.theassassinsapprentice-第45部分

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or　who　knew　what　taint　they　carried；　after　all；　the　Pocked　Man　had　shown　himself　to　them。　Yet　somehow　it　was　harder　still　to　hear　ordinary　folk　say　that　soon　it　would　be　over；　that　the　creatures　of　Forge　would　kill　one　another　and　thank　all　that　was　divine　for　that。　The　good　folk　of　Neatbay　wished　death　on　those　who　had　once　been　the　good　folk　of　Forge；　and　wished　it　as　if　it　were　the　only　good　thing　left　that　might　befall　them。　As　well　it　was。
　　　　　　　On　the　night　before　Lady　Thyme　and　I　were　to　rejoin　Verity's　retinue　to　return　to　Buckkeep；　I　awoke　to　find　a　single　candle　burning　and　Chade　sitting　up；　staring　at　the　wall。　Without　my　saying　a　word；　he　turned　to　me。　〃You　must　be　taught　the　Skill；　boy；〃　he　said　as　if　it　were　a　decision　painfully　e　by。　〃Evil　times　have　e　to　us；　and　they　will　be　with　us　for　a　long　time。　It　is　a　time　when　good　men　must　create　whatever　weapons　they　can。　I　will　go　to　Shrewd　yet　again；　and　this　time　I　will　demand　it。　Hard　times　are　here；　boy。　And　I　wonder　if　they　will　ever　pass。〃
　　　　　　　In　the　years　to　e；　I　was　to　wonder　that　often。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　CHAPTER　ELEVEN
　　　　　　　Forgings
　　　　　　　The　POCKED　MAN　is　a　well…known　figure　in　the　folklore　and　drama　of　the　Six　Duchies。　It　is　a　poor　troop　of　Puppeteers　who　does　not　possess　a　marionette　of　the　Pocked　Man；　not　only　for　his　traditional　roles；　but　also　for　his　usefulness　as　an　omen　of　disaster　to　e　in　original　productions。　Sometimes　the　Pocked　Man　puppet　is　merely　displayed　against　the　backdrop；　to　cast　an　ominous　note　to　a　scene。　Among　the　Six　Duchies；　he　is　a　universal　symbol。
　　　　　　　It　is　said　the　root　of　his　legend　reaches　back　to　the　first　peopling　of　the　Duchies；　not　the　conquering　by　the　Farseer　Outislanders；　but　the　most　ancient　settling　of　the　place　by　earlier　immigrants。　Even　the　Outislanders　have　a　version　of　the　most　basic　legend。　It　is　a　warning　story；　of　the　wrath　of　El　the　Sea　God　at　being　forsaken。
　　　　　　　When　the　sea　was　young；　El；　the　first　Elder；　believed　in　the　people　of　the　islands。　To　that　folk　he　gave　his　sea；　and　with　it　all　that　swam　within　it；　and　all　lands　it　touched　for　their　own。　For　many　years　the　folk　were　grateful。　They　fished　the　sea；　lived　on　its　shores　wherever　they　would；　and　raided　any　others　who　dared　to　take　up　abode　where　El　had　given　them　reign。　Others　who　dared　to　sail　their　sea　were　the　rightful　prey　of　the　folk　as　well。　The　folk　prospered　and　grew　tough　and　strong；　for　El's　sea　winnowed　them。　Their　lives　were　harsh　and　dangerous；　but　it　made　their　boys　grow　to　strong　men　and　their　maids　fearless　women　at　hearth　or　on　deck。　The　folk　respected　El　and　to　that　Elder　they　offered　their　praises　and　only　by　him　did　they　curse。　And　El　took　pride　in　his　folk。
　　　　　　　But　in　El's　generosity；　he　blessed　his　folk　too　well。　Not　enough　of　them　died　in　the　harsh　winters；　and　the　storms　he　sent　were　too　mild　to　conquer　their　seamanship。　So　the　folk　grew　in　number。　So　grew　also　their　herds　and　flocks。　In　fat　years；　weak　children　did　not　die；　but　grew；　and　stayed　at　home；　and　put　land　to　the　plow　to　feed　the　swollen　flocks　and　herds　and　other　weaklings　like　themselves。　The　soil　grubbers　did　not　praise　El　for　his　strong　winds　and　raiding　currents。　Instead；　they　praised　and　cursed　only　by　Eda；　who　is　the　Elder　of　those　who　plow　and　plant　and　tend　the　beasts。　So　Eda　blessed　her　weaklings　with　the　increase　of　their　plants　and　beasts。　This　did　not　please　El；　but　he　ignored　them；　for　he　still　had　the　hardy　folk　of　the　ships　and　the　waves。　They　blessed　by　him　and　they　cursed　by　him；　and　to　encourage　their　strength　he　sent　them　storms　and　cold　winters。
　　　　　　　But　as　time　went　on　those　loyal　to　El　dwindled。　The　soft　folk　of　the　soil　seduced　the　sailors　and　bore　them　children　fit　only　for　tending　to　the　dirt。　And　the　folk　left　the　winter　shores　and　ice…strewn　pastures　and　moved　south；　to　the　soft　lands　of　grapes　and　grain。　Fewer　and　fewer　folk　came　each　year　to　plow　the　waves　and　reap　the　fish　that　El　had　decreed　to　them。　Less　and　less　often　did　El　hear　his　name　in　a　blessing　or　a　curse。　Until　at　last　there　was　a　day　when　there　was　only　one　left　who　only　blessed　or　cursed　in　El's　name。　And　he　was　a　skinny　old　man；　too　old　for　the　sea；　swollen　and　aching　in　his　joints　with　few　teeth　left　in　his　head。　His　blessings　and　curses　were　weak　things　and　insulted　more　than　pleased　El；　who　had　little　use　for　rickety　old　men。
　　　　　　　At　last　there　came　a　storm　that　should　have　ended　the　old　man　and　his　small　boat。　But　when　the　cold　waves　closed　over　him；　he　clung　to　the　wreckage　of　his　craft　and　dared　to　cry　El　for　mercy；　though　all　know　mercy　is　not　in　him。　So　enraged　was　El　by　this　blasphemy　that　he　would　not　receive　the　old　man　into　his　sea；　but　instead　cast　him　up　upon　the　shore　and　cursed　him　that　he　could　never　more　sail；　but　neither　could　he　die。　And　when　he　crawled　from　the　salt　waves；　his　face　and　body　were　pocked　as　if　barnacles　had　clung　to　him；　and　he　staggered　to　his　feet　and　went　forth　into　the　soft　lands。　And　everywhere　he　went；　he　saw　only　soft　soil　grubbers。　And　he　warned　them　of　their　folly；　and　that　El　would　raise　up　a　new　and　hardier　folk　and　give　their　heritage　to　them。　But　the　folk　would　not　listen；　so　soft　and　set　had　they　bee。　Yet　everywhere　the　old　man　went；　disease　followed　in　his　wake。　And　it　was　all　the　pox　diseases　he　spread；　the　ones　that　care　not　if　a　man　is　strong　or　weak；　hard　or　soft；　but　take　any　and　all　that　they　touch。　And　this　was　fitting；　for　all　know　that　the　poxes　e　up　from　bad　dust　and　are　spread　by　the　turning　of　the　soil。
　　　　　　　Thus　is　the　tale　told。　And　so　the　Pocked　Man　has　bee　the　harbinger　of　death　and　disease；　and　a　rebuke　for　those　who　live　soft　and　easily　because　their　lands　bear　well。
　　　　　　　

　　　　　　　Verity's　return　to　Buckkeep　was　gravely　marred　by　the　events　at　Forge。　Verity；　pragmatic　to　a　fault；　had　himself　left　Bayguard　as　soon　as　Dukes　Kelvar　and　Shemshy　had　shown　themselves　in　accord　regarding　Watch　Island。　Verity　and　his　picked　troops　had　actually　left　Bayguard　before　Chade　and　I　returned　to　the　inn。　So　the　trek　back　had　a　hollow　feel　to　it。　During　the　days；　and　around　the　fires　at　night；　folk　spoke　of　Forge；　and　even　within　our　caravan；　the　stories　multiplied　and　embroidered　themselves。
　　　　　　　My　journey　home　was　spoiled　by　Chade's　resumption　of　his　noisome　charade　as　the　vile　old　lady。　I　had　to　fetch　and　wait　upon　her；　right　up　to　the　time　that　her　Buckkeep　servants　appeared　to　escort　her　back　up　to　her　chambers。　〃She〃　lived　in　the　women's　wing；　and　though　I　devoted　myself　in　the　days　to　e　to　hear　any　and　all　gossip　about　her；　I　heard　nothing　except　that　she　was　reclusive　and　difficult。　How　Chade　had　created　her　and　maintained　her　fictitious　existence；　I　never　pletely　discovered。
　　　　　　　Buckkeep；　in　our　absence；　seemed　to　have　undergone　a　tempest　of　new　events；　so　that　I　felt　as　if　we　had　been　gone　ten　years　rather　than　a　matter　of　weeks。　Not　even　Forge　could　pletely　eclipse　Lady　Grace's　performance。　The　story　was　told　and　retold；　with　minstrels　vying　to　see　whose　recounting　would　bee　the　standard。　I　heard　that　Duke　Kelvar　actually　went　down　on　one　knee　and　kissed　the　tips　of　her　fingers　after　she　had　spoken；　very　eloquently；　about　making　the　towers　the　grand　jewels　of　their　land。　One　source　even　told　me　that　Lord　Shemshy　had　personally　thanked　the　lady　and　sought　to　dance　often　with　her　that　evening；　and　thus　nearly　precipitated　an　entirely　different　disagreement　between　the　neighboring　dukedoms。
　　　　　　　I　was　glad　of　her　success。　I　even　heard　it　whispered；　more　than　once；　that　Prince　Verity　should　find　himself　a　lady　of　like　sentiments。　As　often　as　he　was　away；　settling　internal　matters　and　chasing　raiders；　the　people　were　beginning　to　feel　the　need　of　a　strong　ruler　at　home。　The　old　King；　Shrewd；　was　still　nominally　our　sovereign。　But；　as　Burrich　observed；　the　people　tended　to　look　ahead。　〃And；〃　he　added；　〃folk　like　to　know　the　King…in…Waiting　has　a　warm　bed　to　e　home　to。　It　gives　them　something　to　make　their　fancies　about。　Few　enough　of　them　can　afford　any　romance　in　their　lives；　so　they　imagine　all　they　can　for　their　king。　Or　prince。〃
　　　　　　　But　Verity　himself；　I　knew；　had　no　time　to　think　about　well…warmed　beds；　or　any　sort　of　bed　at　all。　Forge　had　been　both　an　example　and　a　thr