tg.stone of tears-第56部分

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rs；　but　I　will　try　to　see　to　your　wishes。　It　is　the　gift　we　must　tend　to。　It　is　that　magic　we　must　teach　you　to　control。’
　
　She　drew　herself　up　and　regarded　him　with　an　expression　of　such　cold　danger　it　made　him　have　to　fight　the　urge　to　shrink　back。　‘But　if　you　ever　again　draw　it　against　me；　I　will　make　you　me　the　day　the　Creator　let　you　take　your　first　breath。’　Her　jaw　muscles　tightened。　‘Do　we　understand　each　other？’
　
　‘What’s　so　important　about　me　that　you　would　kill　to　capture　me？’
　
　Her　cold　posure　was　more　frightening　than　if　she　had　yelled　at　him。　‘Our　job　is　to　help　those　with　the　gift；　because　the　gift　is　given　by　the　Creator。　We　serve　the　Creator。　It　is　for　him　we　die。　I’ve　lost　two　of　my　oldest　friends　because　of　you。　I’ve　wept　myself　to　sleep　with　grief　for　them。　I’ve　had　to　kill　this　woman　tonight；　and　I　may　have　to　kill　others　before　we　reach　the　palace。’
　
　Richard　had　the　feeling　it　would　be　best　to　keep　quiet；　but　he　couldn’t。　She　had　a　way　of　stirring　the　coals　of　his　anger　to　flame。　‘Don’t　try　to　assuage　your　guilt　over　what　you’ve　done　at　my　expense；　Sister。’
　
　Her　face　heated　with　color　that　he　could　see；　even　in　the　moonlight。　‘I’ve　tried　to　be　patient　with　you；　Richard。　I’ve　given　you　leeway　because　you’ve　been　pulled　from　the　only　life　you　have　known；　and　been　thrust　into　a　situation　you　fear　and　don’t　understand；　but　my　patience　is　near　its　end。
　
　‘I’ve　tried　my　best　not　to　see　the　lifeless　bodies　of　my　friends　when　I　look　into　your　eyes。　Or　when　you　tell　me　I’m　heartless。　I’ve　tried　not　to　think　about　you　being　the　one　standing　at　their　burial；　not　me；　and　about　the　things　I　would　have　said　over　their　fresh　graves。　There　are　things　going　on　that　are　beyond　my　understanding；　beyond　my　expectations；　beyond　what　I　was　led　to　believe。　Were　it　up　to　me；　I’m　of　a　mind　to　grant　you　your　wish　and　remove　your　Rada’Han；　and　let　you　die　in　madness　and　pain。
　
　‘But　it’s　not　up　to　me。　It　is　the　Creator’s　work　I　do。’
　
　Although　the　hot　coals　of　his　temper　hadn’t　been　doused；　they　had　cooled。　‘Sister　Verna；　I’m　sorry。’　He　wished　she　would　scream　at　him。　That　would　be　better　than　her　calm　anger；　her　quiet　displeasure。
　
　‘You　are　angered　because　you　think　I　treat　you　as　a　child；　and　not　as　a　man；　and　yet　you　have　given　me　no　reason　to　do　otherwise。　I　know　where　you　stand；　in　your　abilities；　and　where　you　have　yet　to　travel。　In　that　journey　you　are　no　more　than　a　babe　who　bawls　to　be　turned　loose　in　the　world；　yet　cannot　even　walk。
　
　The　collar　you　wear　is　capable　of　controlling　you。　It　is　also　capable　of　giving　you　pain。　Great　pain。　Up　until　now；　I　have　avoided　using　it；　and　have　tried　instead　to　encourage　you　in　other　ways　to　accept　what　must　be　done。　But　if　I　have　to；　I　will　use　it。　The　Creator　knows　I’ve　tried　everything　else。
　
　‘We　will　soon　be　in　a　land　much　more　dangerous　than　this。　We　will　have　to　deal　with　the　people　there　to　get　through。　The　Sisters　have　arrangements　with　them；　to　be　allowed　to　pass。　You　will　do　as　I　tell　you；　as　they　tell　you。　You　will　do　the　things　you　are　told；　or　there　will　be　a　great　deal　of　trouble。’
　
　Richard’s　suspicion　flared　anew。　‘What　things？’
　
　She　glared　at　him。　‘Do　not　test　me　further　tonight；　Richard。’
　
　‘As　long　as　you　understand　you’re　not　getting　my　sword　without　a　fight。’
　
　‘We　are　only　trying　to　help　you；　Richard；　but　if　you　draw　a　weapon　on　me　again；　I　will　see　to　it　you　greatly　regret　it。’　She　glanced　to　the　Agiel　hanging　at　his　neck。　‘Mord…Sith　hold　no　monopoly　in　giving　pain。’
　
　Cold　confirmation　of　his　suspicions　spread　through　his　gut。　They　intended　to　train　him　the　way　a　Mord…Sith　trained　him。　That　was　the　real　reason　for　the　collar。　That　was　how　they　intended　to　teach　him：　with　pain。　For　the　first　time；　he　felt　as　if　she　had　inadvertently　let　him　see　the　bones　of　her　intentions。
　
　She　pulled　the　little　book　from　her　belt。　‘I　have　some　work　to　do　before　we　leave。　Go　bury　her。　And　hide　her　body　well；　if　it’s　found；　it　will　tell　them　what　happened；　and　they　will　be　after　us；　and　then　I　will　have　killed　for　nothing。’
　
　She　sat　in　front　of　the　cold　jumble　of　firewood。　With　a　smooth　sweep　of　her　hand　over　the　dark　coals；　it　burst　into　flame。　After　you’ve　buried　her；　I　want　you　to　go　for　a　walk　and　let　your　temper　cool。　Do　not　return　until　it　has　done　so。　If　you　try　to　wander　away；　or　if　you　don’t　bring　some　reason　into　that　thick　head　of　yours　by　the　time　I’m　ready　to　leave；　I　will　bring　you　back　by　the　collar。’　She　gave　him　a　menacing　look　from　under　her　eyebrows。　‘You　will　not　like　it　if　I　have　to　do　that。　I　promise　you；　you　will　not　like　it　one　bit。’
　
　
　The　dead　woman　was　slight；　and　little　burden　to　carry。　He　hardly　noticed　the　weight　as　he　walked　away　from　the　camp　into　the　low；　rocky　hills。　The　moon　was　up　and　the　way　easy　to　see。　His　mind　swirled　with　his　brooding　thoughts　as　he　trudged　along；　kicking　an　occasional　stone。
　
　Richard　was　surprised　at　his　pang　of　pain　for　Sister　Verna。　She　had　never　before　revealed　how　heartsick　she　was　over　the　deaths　of　Sisters　Grace　and　Elizabeth。　He　had　thought　that　because　she　hadn’t　said　anything；　she　was　callous。　He　felt　sorry　for　her　now；　sorry　for　her　anguish。　He　wished　she　hadn’t　let　him　know。　It　was　easier　to　rail　against　his　situation　when　he　thought　she　was　heartless。
　
　He　found　himself　a　long　way　from　their　camp；　at　the　crest　of　a　hump　of　ground；　with　rocky　walls　and　spires　rising　around　him。　His　mind　came　out　of　his　twisting　thoughts　and　returned　to　the　body　he　carried　on　his　back。　Though　the　stab　wound　from　the　dacra　might　not　have　been　what　had　killed　her；　blood　had　nonetheless　seeped　down　her　back；　matting　her　hair　and　soaking　his　shoulder。　He　felt　sudden　revulsion　at　carrying　a　dead　woman　around　on　his　back。
　
　He　laid　the　body　gently　on　the　rocky　ground　and　looked　about；　searching　for　a　place　to　lay　her　to　rest。　He　had　a　small　shovel　hooked　to　his　belt；　but　there　didn’t　look　to　be　easy　digging　anywhere。　Maybe　he　could　wall　her　up　in　one　of　the　rocky　crags。
　
　While　he　peered　into　the　shadowed　gullies；　he　absently　rubbed　the　still　sore　burn　on　his　chest。　Nissel；　the　healer；　had　given　him　a　poultice；　and　every　day　he　spread　it　on　before　covering　the　wound　once　more　with　a　bandage。　He　didn’t　like　looking　at　it。　He　didn’t　like　seeing　the　scar　of　a　handprint　burned　into　his　flesh。
　
　Sister　Verna　had　said　it　could　have　been　that　he　had　burned　himself　in　the　fireplace　in　the　spirit　house；　or　that　they　might　have　indeed　called　forth　the　dark　minions　of　the　Nameless　One。　It　obviously　wasn’t　a　burn　from　the　fire；　it　was　the　mark　of　the　underworld。　Of　Darken　Rani。
　
　He　was　somehow　ashamed　of　it；　and　never　let　Sister　Verna　see　it。　The　scar　was　a　constant　reminder　of　his　father’s　true　identity。　It　seemed　an　affront　to　George　Cypher；　the　man　he　thought　of　as　his　father；　the　man　who　had　raised　him；　trusted　and　taught　him；　given　him　his　love；　and　whom　he　had　loved　in　return。
　
　The　mark　was　also　a　constant　reminder　of　the　monster　he　really　was　…　the　monster　Kahlan　had　wanted　collared　and　sent　away。
　
　Richard　swatted　at　a　bug　buzzing　around　his　face。　He　looked　down。　They　were　buzzing　around　the　dead　woman；　too。　He　went　cold　with　a　jolt　of　fright　even　before　he　felt　the　sting　of　a　bite　on　his　neck。
　
　Blood　flies。
　
　He　drew　his　sword　in　a　rush　as　the　huge；　dark　shape　lunged　from　behind　the　rock。　The　ringing　sound　of　steel　was　drowned　out　by　a　roar。　Wings　spread　wide；　the　gar　dove　for　him。　For　an　instant；　he　thought　he　saw　a　second；　hunched　in　the　shadows　behind　the　first；　but　his　attention　was　immediately　seized　by　the　immense　thing　descending　on　him；　by　the　fierce；　glowing；　green　eyes　locked　on　him。
　
　It　was　too　big　to　be　a　long…tailed　gar；　and　by　the　way　it　anticipated　and　avoided　his　first　stab；　too　smart。　It　would　have　to　be　a　short…tailed　gar；　he　cursed　silently。　It　was　thinner　than　short…tailed　gars　he　had　seen　before；　probably　the　result　of　poor　hunting　in　this　desolate　land；　but　thin　or　not；　it　was　still　huge；　towering　half　again　as　tall　as　he。
　
　Richard　stumbled　and　fell　over　the　dead　woman　as　he　lurched　back　to　escape　the　swipe　of　a　massive　claw。　He　came　up　swinging　the　sword　in　fury；　letting　the　anger　of　the　sword’s　magic　surge　through　him。　The　tip　of　the　sword　sliced　a　gash　across　the　smooth；　taut；　pink　stomach。　The　gar　howled　in　rage　as　it　rushed　him　again；　unexpectedly　batting　him　to　the　ground　with　a　leathery　wing。
　
　Richard　rolled　to　his　feet；　whirling　the　sword　as　he　came　up。　The　blade　flashed　in　the　moonlight；　taking　off　a　wingtip　in　a　spray　of　blood。　That　only　enraged　the　gar　into　lunging　toward　him。　Long；　wet　fangs　ripped　at　the　night　air。　Its　eyes　were　ablaze　with　a　furious　green　glow。　The　howling　roar　hurt　his　ears。　Claws　swept　in　to　each　side　of　him。
　
　The　magic　pounded　through　him；　demanding　blood。　Instead　of　dodging　the　advance；　Richard　ducked。　He　sprang　up；　driving　the　sword　through　the　chest　of　the　great；　fur…covered　beast。　He　yanked　the　blade　back　with　a　twisting　cut　to　the　sound　of　a　scream　of　mortal　pain。
　
　Richard　pulled　the　sword　behind；　prepared　to　take　the　hideous　head　off　with　a　powerful　stroke；　but　the　gar　didn’t　e　at　him。　Claws　clutched　to　the　gushing　wound　at　its　chest；　it　teetered　a　moment；　and　then　toppled　heavily　onto　its　back；　bones　in　its　wings　snapping　as　it　fell　on　them。
　
　A　keening　wail　came　from　the　shadows。　Richard　retreated　a　few　paces。　A　small；　dark　form　darted　across　the　ground；　to　the　vanquished　monster；　falling　on　top　of　it。　Little　wings　wrapped　around　the　heaving　chest。
　
　Richard　stared　in　disbelief。　It　was　a　baby　gar。
　
　The　wounded　beast　lifted　a　shaking　claw　to　clutch　weakly　at　the　whimpering　form。　It　drew　a　gurgling　breath　that　lifted　the　little　gar　sprawled　atop　its　chest。　The　arm　dropped　to　the　side。　Faintly　glowing　green　eyes　drank　in　its　little　one；　and　then　looked　up　at　Richard　with　pleading　pain。　A　froth　of　blood　bubbled　as　it　expelled　its　last；　rattling　breath。　The　glow　in　its　eyes　waned；　and　then　it　was　still。　With　plaintive　cries；　the　little　creature　seized　small　fistfuls　of　fur。
　
　Little　or　not；　Richard　thought；　it　is　still　a　gar。　He　stepped　close。　He　had　to　kill　it。　The　rage　pounded　through　him。　He　lifted　the　sword　over　his　head。
　
　The　little　gar　drew　a　trembling　wing　over　its　head　as　it　shrank　back。　As　frightened　as　it　was；　it　would　not　leave　its　mother。　It　whimpered　in　anguish　and　fear。
　
　A　terrified　little　face　peered　over　the　trembling　wing。　Wide；　wet；　green　eyes　blinked　up　at　him。　Tears　ran　down　the　deep　creases　in　its　cheeks　as　it　sobbed　in　distress　with　a　purling　wail。
　
　‘Dear　spirits；’　Richard　whispered；　as　he　stood　paralyzed；　‘I　can’t　do　this。’
　
　The　little　gar　quivered　as　it　watched　the　sword’s　point　sink　to　the　ground。　Richard　turned　his　back　and　closed　his　eyes。　He　felt　sick；　both　from　the　sword’s　magic；　which　inflicted　upon　him　the　pain　of　his　vanquished　foe；　and　from　the　dreadful　prospect　of　what　he　had　been　ready　to　do。
　
　As　he　replaced　the　sword；　he　drew　a　deep　breath　to　steady　himself；　then　lifted　the　dead　woman　over　his　shoulder　and　started　off。　He　could　hear　the　choking　sobs　of　the　little　gar　as　it　clung　to　its　still　mother。　He　couldn’t　kill　it。　He　just　couldn’t。　Besides；　he　told　himself；　the　sword　wouldn’t　allow　it。　The　magic　only　worked　against　threat。　It　wouldn’t　allow　him　to　kill　the　little　gar。　He　knew　it　wouldn’t。
　
　Of　course；　it　would　work　if　he　turned　the　blade　white；　but　he　couldn’t　bear　that　pain。　He　would　not　subject　himself　to　that　agony；　not　for　no　more　purpose　than　to　kill　a　defenseless　pup。　He　carried　the　dead　woman’s　body　toward　the　next　rise　as　he　listened　to　the　whimpers　grow　faint。　Laying　the　body　down　again；　he　sat　to　catch　his　breath。　He　could　just　see　the　great　beast　in　the　moonlight；　a　dark　blotch　against　the　light…colored　rock；　and　the　small　form　atop　it。　He　could　hear　the　slow　sounds　of　anguish　and　confusion。　Richard　sat　a　long　time；　watching；　listening。
　
　‘Dear　spirits；　what　have　I　done？’
　
　The　spirits；　as　usual；　had　nothing　to　say。
　
　Out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye；　movement　caught　his　attention。　Two　distant　silhouettes　passed　in　front　of　the　big；　bright　moon。　They　banked　into　a　slow　turn；　and　began　to　descend。　Two　gars。
　
　Richard　came　to　his　feet。　Maybe　they　would　see　the　baby　and　help　it。　He　found　himself　cheering　them　on；　and　then　realized　how　absurd　it　was　to　hope　a　gar　would　live。　But　he　was　beginning　to　feel　an　odd　sympathy　for　monsters。
　
　Richard　ducked　down。　The　two　gars　overhead　came　close　to　him　as　they　swept　in　a　wide　circle　around　the　scene　on　the　next　hill。　Their　spiral　tightened。
　
　The　little　gar　fell　silent。
　
　The　dark　shapes　dove　down；　landing　a　ways　apart　with　a　flutter　of　wings。　They　moved　cautiously　around　the　dead　gar　and　its　offspring。　Wings　held　open；　they　suddenly　leapt　toward　the　silent　baby　gar。　It　broke　its　silence　with　a　scream。　There　was　a　flurry　of　wings；　vicious　roars；　and　frightened　shrieks。
　
　Richard　stood。　Many　animals　ate　the　young　of　another　of　their　own　kind。　Especially　males；　and　especially　if　food　was　scarce。　They　weren’t　going　to　save　it；　they　intended　to　eat　it。
　
　Before　he　even　realized　what　he　was　doing；　Richard　was　racing　down　the　hill。　He　ran　heedless　of　the　foolishness　he　intended。　He　pulled　the　sword　free　as　he　charged　up　the　hill　to　the　little　gar。　Its　terrified　wails　urged　him　on。　The　savage　snarls　of　its　attackers　ignited　the　wrath　of　the　sword’s　magic。
　
　Steel　first；　he　rushed　into　the　fur　and　claws　and　wings。　The　two　gars　were　bigger　than　the　one　he　had　killed；　confirming　his　suspicion　that　they　were　males。　His　blade　caught　only　air　as　they　leapt　back；　but　one　of　them　dropped　the　little　gar。　It　skittered　across　the　ground　and　clutched　its　mother’s　fur。　The　other　two　circled　him；　charging　and　darting　and　swiping　with　their　claws。　Richard　swung　and　stabbed　with　the　sword。　One　of　them　snatched　at　the　baby。　Richard　scooped　it　away　with　his　free　arm　and　quickly　retreated　a　dozen　paces。
　
　They　fell　on　the　dead　gar。　With　a　cry；　the　baby　stretched　its　arms　toward　its　mother；　its　wings　flapping　against　his　face　in　an　effort　to　free　itself。　In　a　frenzy；　the　two　gars　tore　at　the　carcass。
　
　Richard　made　a　calculated　decision。　As　long　as　the　dead　gar　was　there；　the　pup　wouldn’t　leave　it；　the　pup　would　have　a　better　chance　at　survival　if　it　had　nothing　to　hold　it　to　this　place。　It　squirmed　mightily　in　his　arm。　Though　fully　half　his　size；　at　least　it　was　lighter　than　he　would　have　thought。
　
　He　feigned　a　charge　to　hurry　the　two　along。　They　snapped　at　him；　too　hungry　to　be　frightened　off　without　a　meal。　They　fought　each　other。　Claws　slashed　and　pulled；　ripping　the　body　asunder。　Richard　charged　again　as　the　little　gar　tore　free；　running　ahead　of　him　with　a　shriek。　The　two　leapt　into　the　air；　each　with　half　a　prize。　In　a　moment　they　were　gone。
　
　The　little　gar　stood　where　its　mother　had　been；　keening　as　it　watched　the　two　disappear　into　the　dark　sky。
　
　Panting　and　weary；　Richard　returned　his　sword　to　its　scabbard　and　then　slumped　down　on　a　short　ledge；　trying　to　catch　his　breath。　His　head　sunk　into　his　hands　as　tears　welled　up。　He　must　be　losing　h