rh.theassassinsapprentice-第71部分

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tact　me。
　　　　　　　Nothing　takes　the　heart　out　of　a　man　more　than　the　expectation　of　failure。　I　had　no　belief　he　would　really　try　to　contact　me；　let　alone　that　I　would　receive　any　clear　impressions　if　he　did。　Nor　did　I　have　faith　that　the　drop…off　he　had　chosen　for　me　was　a　safe　location。　Without　much　more　thought　than　that；　I　rose；　again　surveyed　the　area　for　anyone　watching　me；　then　struck　out　toward　the　sea　smell。　If　I　were　where　I　supposed　myself　to　be；　from　the　shore　I　should　be　able　to　see　Antler　Island　and；　on　a　clear　day；　possibly　Scrim　Isle。　Even　one　of　those　would　be　enough　to　tell　me　how　far　from　Forge　I　was。
　　　　　　　As　I　hiked　I　told　myself　I　only　wanted　to　see　how　long　a　walk　I　would　have　back　to　Buckkeep。　Only　a　fool　would　imagine　that　the　Forged　ones　still　represented　any　danger。　Surely　winter　had　put　an　end　to　them；　or　left　them　too　starved　and　weakened　to　be　a　menace　to　anyone。　I　gave　no　credence　to　the　tales　of　them　banding　together　as　cutthroats　and　thieves。　I　wasn't　afraid。　I　merely　wanted　to　see　where　I　was。　If　Galen　truly　wanted　to　contact　me；　location　should　be　no　barrier。　He　had　assured　us　innumerable　times　that　it　was　the　person　he　reached　for；　not　the　place。　He　could　find　me　as　well　on　the　beach　as　he　could　on　the　hilltop。
　　　　　　　By　late　afternoon；　I　stood　atop　rocky　cliffs；　looking　out　to　sea。　Antler　Island；　and　a　haze　that　would　be　Scrim　beyond　it。　I　was　north　of　Forge。　The　coast　road　home　would　go　right　through　the　ruins　of　that　town。　It　was　not　a　forting　thought。
　　　　　　　So　now　what？
　　　　　　　By　evening；　I　was　back　on　my　hilltop；　scrunched　down　between　two　of　the　boulders。　I　had　decided　it　was　as　good　a　place　to　wait　as　any。　Despite　my　doubts；　I　would　stay　where　I　had　been　left　until　the　contact　time　was　up。　I　ate　bread　and　salt　fish　and　drank　sparingly　of　my　water。　My　change　of　clothes　included　an　extra　cloak。　I　wrapped　myself　in　this　and　sternly　rejected　all　thoughts　of　making　a　fire。　However　small；　it　would　have　been　a　beacon　to　anyone　on　the　dirt　road　that　passed　the　hill。
　　　　　　　I　don't　think　there　is　anything　more　cruelly　tedious　than　unremitting　nervousness。　I　tried　to　meditate；　to　open　myself　up　to　Galen's　Skill；　all　the　while　shivering　with　cold　and　refusing　to　admit　that　I　was　scared。　The　child　in　me　kept　imagining　dark　ragged　figures　creeping　soundlessly　up　the　hillside　around　me；　Forged　folk　who　would　beat　and　kill　me　for　the　cloak　I　wore　and　the　food　in　my　bag。　I　had　cut　myself　a　stick　as　I　made　my　way　back　to　my　hillside；　and　I　gripped　it　in　both　hands；　but　it　seemed　a　poor　weapon。　Sometimes　I　dozed　despite　my　fears；　but　my　dreams　were　always　of　Galen　gloating　over　my　failure　as　Forged　ones　closed　in　on　me；　and　I　always　woke　with　a　start；　to　peer　wildly　about　to　see　if　my　nightmares　were　true。
　　　　　　　I　watched　the　sunrise　through　the　trees　and　then　dozed　fitfully　through　morning。　Afternoon　brought　me　a　weary　sort　of　peace。　I　amused　myself　by　questing　out　toward　the　wildlife　on　the　hillside。　Mice　and　songbirds　were　little　more　than　bright　sparks　of　hunger　in　my　mind；　and　rabbits　little　more；　but　a　fox　was　full　of　lust　to　find　a　mate　and　farther　off　a　buck　battered　the　velvet　off　his　antlers　as　purposefully　as　any　smith　at　his　anvil。　Evening　was　very　long。　It　was　surprising；　just　how　hard　it　was　for　me　to　accept；　as　night　fell；　that　I　had　felt　nothing；　not　the　slightest　pressure　of　the　Skill。　Either　he　hadn't　called　or　I　hadn't　heard　him。　I　ate　bread　and　fish　in　the　dark　and　told　myself　it　didn't　matter。　For　a　time　I　tried　to　bolster　myself　with　anger；　but　my　despair　was　too　clammy　and　dark　a　thing　for　anger's　flames　to　overe。　I　felt　sure　Galen　had　cheated　me；　but　I　would　never　be　able　to　prove　it；　not　even　to　myself。　I　would　always　have　to　wonder　if　his　contempt　for　me　had　been　justified。　In　full　darkness；　I　settled　my　back　against　a　rock；　my　stick　across　my　knees；　and　resolved　to　sleep。
　　　　　　　My　dreams　were　muddled　and　sour。　Regal　stood　over　me；　and　I　was　a　child　sleeping　in　straw　again。　He　laughed　and　held　a　knife。　Verity　shrugged；　and　smiled　apologetically　at　me。　Chade　turned　aside　from　me；　disappointed。　Molly　smiled　at　jade；　past　me；　forgetting　I　was　there。　Burrich　held　me　by　the　shirtfront　and　shook　me；　telling　me　to　behave　like　a　man；　not　a　beast。　But　I　lay　down　on　straw　and　an　old　shirt；　chewing　at　a　bone。　The　meat　was　very　good；　and　I　could　think　of　nothing　else。
　　　　　　　I　was　very　fortable　until　someone　opened　a　stable　door　and　left　it　ajar。　A　nasty　little　wind　came　creeping　across　the　stable　floor　to　chill　me；　and　I　looked　up　with　a　growl。　I　smelled　Burrich　and　ale。　Burrich　came　slowly　through　the　dark；　with　a　muttered；　〃It's　all　right；　Smithy；〃　as　he　passed　me。　I　put　my　head　down　as　he　began　to　climb　his　stairs。
　　　　　　　Suddenly　there　was　a　shout　and　men　falling　down　the　stairs。　They　struggled　as　they　fell。　I　leaped　to　my　feet；　snarling　and　barking。　They　landed　half　atop　me。　A　boot　kicked　at　me；　and　I　seized　the　leg　above　it　in　my　teeth　and　clamped　my　jaws。　I　caught　more　boot　and　pant　than　flesh；　but　he　hissed　in　anger　and　pain；　and　struck　at　me。
　　　　　　　A　knife　went　into　my　side。
　　　　　　　I　set　my　teeth　harder　and　held　on；　snarling　around　my　mouthful。　Other　dogs　had　awakened　and　were　barking；　the　horses　were　stamping　in　their　stalls。　Boy；　boy；　I　called　for　help。　I　felt　him　with　me；　but　he　didn't　e。　The　intruder　kicked　me；　but　I　wouldn't　let　go。　Burrich　lay　in　the　straw　and　I　smelled　his　blood。　He　did　not　move。　I　snarled　around　the　mouthful。　I　heard　old　Vixen　flinging　herself　against　the　door　upstairs；　trying　vainly　to　get　to　her　master。　Again　and　then　again　the　knife　plunged　into　me。　I　cried　out　to　my　boy　a　last　time；　and　then　I　could　no　longer　hold　on。　I　was　flung　off　the　kicking　leg；　to　strike　the　side　of　a　stall。　I　was　drowning；　blood　in　my　mouth　and　nostrils。　Running　feet。　Pain　in　the　dark。　I　hitched　closer　to　Burrich。　I　pushed　my　nose　under　his　hand。　He　did　not　move。　Voices　and　light　ing；　ing；　ing　。。。
　　　　　　　I　awoke　on　a　dark　hillside；　gripping　my　stick　so　tightly　my　hands　were　numb。　Not　for　a　moment　did　I　think　it　a　dream。　I　couldn't　stop　feeling　the　knife　between　my　ribs　and　tasting　the　blood　in　my　mouth。　Like　the　refrain　of　a　ghastly　song；　the　memories　came　again　and　again；　the　draft　of　cold　air；　the　knife；　the　boot；　the　taste　of　my　enemy's　blood　in　my　mouth；　and　the　taste　of　my　own。　I　struggled　to　make　sense　of　what　Smithy　had　seen。　Someone　had　been　at　the　top　of　Burrich's　stairs；　waiting　for　him。　Someone　with　a　knife。　And　Burrich　had　fallen；　and　Smithy　had　smelled　blood　。。。。
　　　　　　　I　stood　and　gathered　my　things。　Thin　and　faint　was　Smithy's　warm　little　presence　in　my　mind。　Weak；　but　there。　I　quested　carefully；　and　then　stopped　when　I　felt　how　much　it　cost　him　to　acknowledge　me。　Still。　Be　still。　I'm　ing。　I　was　cold　and　my　knees　shook　beneath　me；　but　sweat　was　slick　on　my　back。　Not　once　did　I　question　what　I　must　do。　I　strode　down　the　hill　to　the　dirt　road。　It　was　a　little　trade　road；　a　peddlers'　track；　and　I　knew　that　if　I　followed　it；　it　must　intersect　eventually　with　the　coast　road。　I　would　follow　it；　I　would　find　the　coast　road；　I　would　get　myself　home。　And　if　Eda　favored　me；　I　would　be　in　time　to　help　Smithy。　And　Burrich。
　　　　　　　I　strode；　refusing　to　let　myself　run。　A　steady　march　would　carry　me　farther　faster　than　a　mad　sprint　through　the　dark。　The　night　was　clear；　the　trail　straight。　I　considered；　once；　that　I　was　putting　an　end　to　any　chance　of　proving　I　could　Skill。　All　I　had　put　into　it；　time；　effort；　pain；　all　wasted。　But　there　was　no　way　I　could　have　sat　down　and　waited　another　full　day　for　Galen　to　try　to　reach　me。　To　open　my　mind　to　Galen's　possible　Skill　touch；　I　would　have　had　to　clear　it　of　Smithy's　tenuous　thread。　I　would　not。　When　it　was　all　put　in　the　balances；　the　Skill　was　far　outweighed　by　Smithy。　And　Burrich。
　　　　　　　Why　Burrich？　I　wondered。　Who　could　hate　him　enough　to　ambush　him？　And　right　outside　his　own　quarters。　As　clearly　as　if　I　were　reporting　to　Chade；　I　began　to　assemble　my　facts。　Someone　who　knew　him　well　enough　to　know　where　he　lived；　that　ruled　out　some　chance　offense　mitted　in　a　Buckkeep　Town　tavern。　Someone　who　had　brought　a　knife；　that　ruled　out　someone　who　just　wanted　to　give　him　a　beating。　The　knife　had　been　sharp；　and　the　wield