tg.stone of tears-第65部分

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　closer　to　him。　‘You　must　stay　close　to　me；　keep　going。　You　must　ignore　any　desire　you　have；　both　fear　and　longing；　to　do　otherwise。　Do　you　understand？’
　
　Richard　finally　nodded。　Sister　Verna　returned　her　gaze　to　the　shimmering　forms。　She　sat　motionless；　watching。　In　the　distance；　beyond　the　wavering　light；　he　thought　he　saw　thun…derheads；　dark　and　ominous；　drifting　across　the　horizon。　He　felt　more　than　heard　their　thunder。　Somehow；　he　knew　it　wasn’t　clouds；　but　magic。　When　Bonnie　tossed　her　head；　Richard　gave　her　a　reassuring　pat　on　her　neck。
　
　After　watching　awhile；　he　looked　over　to　the　Sister。　She　sat　still　and　tense。
　
　‘What　are　you　waiting　for；　Sister？　Courage？’
　
　She　answered　without　moving。　‘Exactly。　I　am　waiting　for　courage；　child。’
　
　He　felt　no　anger　this　time　at　her　calling　him　‘child；’　but　rather　that　it　might　be　an　appropriate　characterization；　as　far　as　his　abilities　were　concerned。
　
　In　a　whisper；　and　still　without　looking　away　from　the　sunbaked　inferno　ahead；　she　went　on。　‘You　were　still　in　swaddling　clothes　when　I　came　through；　but　I　remember　every　detail　as　if　it　happened　yesterday。　Yes；　I　am　waiting　for　courage。’
　
　He　gave　Bonnie　a　squeeze　with　his　legs；　urging　her　ahead。　‘The　sooner　we　start；　the　sooner　we’re　through。’
　
　‘Or　lost。’　She　walked　her　horse　after　him。　‘So　anxious　to　be　lost；　Richard？’
　
　‘I’m　already　lost；　Sister。’
　
　
　CHAPTER　29
　
　They　were　confronted　by　steps；　twenty　strides　wide；　that　revealed　themselves　for　what　they　were　only　at　the　far　right；　where　the　wind　had　funneled　down　next　to　the　sweeping；　pink　marble　balustrade　and　kept　the　snow　clear。　Pausing　for　only　a　moment　as　she　realized　they　had　reached　her　destination；　Kahlan　set　her　snowshoes　firmly　into　the　snowdrift　that　covered　the　steps；　and　ascended　to　the　portico；　its　fascia　decorated　with　a　row　of　statues　swathed　in　cut　stone　that　mimicked　the　drape　of　cloth　so　well　it　seemed　as　if　it　might　move　in　the　light　breeze。　Ten　white　columns　to　each　side　held　the　massive　entablature　at　a　dizzying　height　above　the　arched　entrance。　Bodies　fallen　in　a　desperate　battle　were　sprawled　atop　one　another　all　over　the　snow…covered　lawns；　and　sat　as　if　in　repose　against　the　walls　of　the　domed　exterior　entrance　hall。
　
　The　ornate　doors；　displaying　delicately　carved　royal　shields　of　the　House　of　Amnell；　held　aloft　by　twin　mountain　lions；　lay　in　splinters　on　the　floor　of　the　vestibule。　Flanking　the　rope…carved　stone　arch　at　the　far　end　stood　life…size　statues　of　Queen　Bernadine　and　King　Wyborn；　each　holding　a　spear　and　shield　in　one　hand；　the　queen　a　sheaf　of　wheat　in　the　other；　and　the　king　a　lamb。　The　queen’s　breasts　were　broken　away；　flakes　of　stone　and　stone　dust　littered　the　rust　colored　marble　tiles。　Both　statues　were　without　their　heads。
　
　With　nearly　numb　fingers；　Kahlan　untied　the　bindings　of　her　snowshoes　and　leaned　them　against　the　queen’s　statue。　Chandalen　followed　her　example　before　following　her　into　the　reception　hall　lined　with　broken　mirrors　and　torn　tapestries。　She　pulled　her　mantle　tight　around　herself　as　clouds　of　their　breath　rose　lazily　into　dead　still　air　that　was　somehow　much　colder　than　that　outside。
　
　‘What　is　this　place　used　for？’　Chandalen　asked　in　a　whisper；　as　if　afraid　he　might　wake　the　spirits　of　the　dead。
　
　She　had　to　force　herself　not　to　whisper。　‘It　is　the　home　of　the　queen　of　this　land。　Her　name　is　Cyrilla。’
　
　His　doubting　voice　echoed　down　the　stone　hall。　‘One　person　lives　in　a　place　such　as　this？’
　
　‘Many　people　live　here。　There　are　advisors；　much　like　the　elders　among　your　people；　and　others　that　are　responsible　for　governing　the　needs　of　the　land；　and　people　who　tend　to　their　needs　so　they　may　perform　their　duties。　Many　people　call　this　their　home；　but　the　queen　is　the　head　of　the　household；　as　she　is　the　head　of　her　land。　She　is　above　them　all。’
　
　Chandalen　followed　silently　as　she　began　to　search　the　palace。　His　eyes　slid　from　one　wondrous　object　to　another；　from　elaborately　carved　furniture　that　now　lay　everywhere　in　splinters；　to　the　heavy　red；　blue；　gold；　or　green　draperies　that　adorned　the　ten…foot…tall；　square…top　windows；　all　broken　now。
　
　She　descended　a　flight　of　stairs　to　the　lower　rooms；　the　oak　treads　creaking　with　every　step　in　the　cold。　He　insisted　on　entering　each　room　first；　pushing　doors　open　with　a　foot　and　gliding　in　behind　a　fully　drawn　ten…step　arrow；　before　allowing　her　to　search　inside。
　
　They　found　only　the　dead。　In　a　few　of　the　rooms　they　found　some　of　the　staff；　who　had　been　lined　up　against　a　wall　and　pincushioned　with　arrows。　In　the　kitchens　it　looked　as　if　after　executing　the　cooks；　cook’s　helpers；　wine　stewards；　assistants；　dishwashers；　potboys；　spit　boys；　and　scullions；　the　invaders　had　sat　down　and　had　a　drunken　feast。　The　ale　and　wine　casks　were　empty。　It　appeared　they　had　thrown　more　food　at　the　walls　than　they　had　eaten。
　
　While　Chandalen　checked　the　ransacked　larder；　Kahlan’s　eye　was　caught　by　the　bodies　of　two　young　women；　kitchen　help；　on　the　floor　behind　a　long　chopping　block。　One　was　pletely　naked；　and　the　other　had　but　one　brown；　woolen　stocking；　bunched　down　around　her　thin　ankle。　Her　first　assumption　had　been　wrong。　Not　all　the　help　had　been　killed　before　the　drunken　feast。
　
　Her　face　as　still　as　those　of　the　dead　women；　she　turned　and　strode　from　the　kitchen　and　started　up　the　servants’　stairs　to　check　the　upper　floors。　Chandalen’s　thumping　footfalls　came　charging　up　behind　as　he　took　three　steps　at　a　time　to　catch　her。
　
　She　knew　he　didn’t　like　it　that　she　had　left　without　him；　but　he　didn’t　voice　it。　There　is　salted　meat。　Maybe　we　could　take　a　little？　I　do　not　think　these　people　would　think　it　wrong　for　us　to　do　so。　They　would　not　deny　us　a　little　food。’
　
　Kahlan　put　her　hand　to　the　railing　as　she　climbed　with　a　steady　cadence；　but　then　pulled　the　hand　back　inside　her　mantle；　because　the　polished　maple　was　so　cold　to　the　touch　it　stung　her　fingers。　‘If　you　eat　the　meat；　you　will　die。　They　will　have　poisoned　it；　so　that　if　any　of　the　dead’s　countrymen　return　to　this　place　and　eat　any　of　the　food　here；　they；　too；　will　die。’
　
　They　found　the　main　floor　clear　of　bodies。　It　looked　to　have　been　used　as　an　army　headquarters。　Empty　barrels　of　wine　and　rum　lay　about　the　ballroom　floor。　Food　scraps；　mugs　and　cups；　broken　dishes；　pipe　ashes；　bloody　bandages；　oily　rags；　broken　or　bent　swords；　spears　and　maces；　dark　wood　shavings　from　a　walnut　table　leg　someone　had　whittled　away　until　it　was　nothing　but　a　stub；　basins　of　frozen　water；　dirty　linen；　bedsheets　ripped　into　strips；　and　filthy；　quilted　bedcovers　of　every　color　littered　the　carpeted　floor。　Dirty　bootprints　were　everywhere；　even　on　the　tabletops。　By　the　swirling　scratches；　it　looked　as　if　men　had　danced　atop　them。
　
　Chandalen　walked　through　the　rubble；　inspecting　various　bits。　‘Two；　maybe　three　days　they　were　here。’
　
　She　nodded　her　agreement　as　her　eyes　cast　about。　‘It　looks　that　way。’
　
　He　rolled　a　wine　barrel　back　and　forth　with　his　foot；　testing　if　it　was　empty。　It　was。　‘I　wonder　why　they　stayed　so　long？　Just　to　drink；　and　dance？’
　
　Kahlan　sighed。　‘I　don’t　know。　Maybe　they　were　resting　and　tending　to　their　wounded。　Maybe　they　just　went　on　a　drunken　binge　to　celebrate　their　victory　over　these　people。’
　
　He　looked　up　sharply。　‘Killing　is　not　a　thing　to　celebrate。’
　
　‘It　is；　for　the　people　who　did　this　killing。’
　
　Reluctantly；　Kahlan　at　last　climbed　the　stairs　to　the　top　floor。　She　didn’t　want　to　look　up　there。　That　was　where　the　bedchambers　were。
　
　They　checked　the　west　wing　first：　the　men’s　apartments。　They　looked　to　have　been　used　by　the　troops　as　sleeping　quarters。　With　an　army　of　as　many　men　as　had　to　have　done　this；　they　would　have　had　many　men　of　rank。　The　officers　probably　stayed　here；　in　the　fine　rooms。　The　soldiers　under　their　mand　would　have　used　the　inns　and　more　mon　houses。
　
　With　a　deep　breath　to　strengthen　her　resolve；　she　set　her　jaw　and　crossed　the　central　hall；　with　its　balcony　that　overlooked　the　grand　staircase；　to　the　east…wing　rooms。　Chandalen；　close　at　her　heels；　wanted　to　open　the　doors　for　her　and　check　the　rooms　first；　but　here　she　wouldn’t　allow　it。　Her　hand　paused　for　a　moment　on　the　doorknob；　then　finally　opened　the　first　door。　She　stood　for　a　time；　staring　at　the　scene　inside。　She　went　to　the　next　door　and　flung　it　open；　and　then　to　the　next。
　
　All　the　rooms　were　occupied。　Each　bedchamber　had　women　in　it；　none　clothed。　Room　after　room　after　room　were　all　the　same。　By　the　filthy　condition　of　the　carpets；　there　looked　to　have　been　a　steady　stream　of　traffic。　Wood　shavings　lay　in　little　piles　about　the　floor；　where　a　man　had　passed　the　time　whittling　on　whatever　was　handy　while　he　waited　his　turn。
　
　‘Now　we　know　why　they　spent　several　days　here；’　Kahlan　said　without　meeting　Chandalen’s　eyes。　He　remained　silent。　She　couldn’t　bring　forth　more　than　a　whisper。　‘So　they　could　do　this。’
　
　Those　few　days　had　undoubtedly　been　the　longest　of　these　women’s　lives。　Kahlan　prayed　that　their　spirits　were　at　peace；　now。
　
　She　reached　the　door　at　the　end；　the　door　to　the　room　the　younger　women　shared。　Slowly；　she　opened　it；　and　stood　looking　in；　Chandalen　close　behind　her　looking　past　her　shoulder。
　
　Stifling　a　gasp；　she　turned　and　put　a　hand　to　his　chest。　‘Please；　Chandalen；　wait　here。’
　
　He　nodded　as　he　furiously　studied　his　boots。
　
　Kahlan　closed　the　door　behind　herself　and　stood　with　her　back　against　it　for　a　time。　One　hand　at　her　side；　and　the　other　covering　her　mouth；　she　skirted　an　overturned；　wrecked　wardrobe；　and　walked　the　length　of　the　frigid　room；　between　the　rows　of　beds；　looking　from　one　side　to　the　other。　The　precious　hand　mirrors；　brushes；　bs；　and　pins　that　at　one　time　had　been　arranged　with　loving　care　on　tables　between　the　beds　now　lay　scattered　about　the　floor。　The　blue　moire　curtains　billowed　slightly　in　the　icy　air　ing　through　the　broken　windows。
　
　These　were　the　queen’s　ladies…in…waiting。　Young　women　of　fourteen；　fifteen；　and　sixteen；　a　few　a　little　older。　These　were　not　just　nameless　corpses；　Kahlan　knew　many　of　these　young　women。
　
　The　queen　had　taken　them　with　her　when　she　had　traveled　to　Aydindril　to　speak　before　the　council。　Kahlan　could　not　have　failed　to　notice　them；　their　vibrancy；　their　wide…eyed　excitement　at　being　in　Aydindril。　Seeing　the　grandeur　of　Aydindril　through　their　young　eyes　had　given　Kahlan　new　vision　of　the　things　around　her；　and　brought　a　smile　to　her　lips。　She　had　longed　to　give　them　a　tour；　personally；　but　being　with　the　Mother　Confessor　would　have　frightened　them；　and　so　she　hadn’t。　But　she　had　admired　them　from　afar；　and　envied　their　lives　of　possibility。
　
　Kahlan　stopped　at　various　beds；　her　back　stiff；　her　head　held　high；　her　jaw　rigid；　as　she　reluctantly　cast　her　eyes　down　at　faces　she　knew。　Juliana；　one　of　the　youngest；　had　always　been　self…confident　and　assertive。　She　knew　what　she　wanted　and　wasn’t　timid　about　going　after　it。　She　had　always　been　smitten　with　young　men　in　uniform：　soldiers。　One　time；　it　had　brought　her　to　grief　with　her　chaperone；　Mistress　Nelda。　Kahlan　had　surreptitiously　interceded　on　her　behalf；　informing　Mistress　Nelda　that　despite　Juliana’s　dalliances；　the　Aydindril　Home　Guard　were　all　men　of　impeccable　honor；　and　would　never　lay　a　finger　on　a　queen’s　lady。　Her　wrists　were　now　tied　to　the　headpost；　and　by　the　way　they　had　bled；　looked　to　have　been　that　way　through　the　whole　of　her　ordeal。　Kahlan　silently　cursed　the　spirits　for　their　cruel　humor　in　giving　the　young　innocent　what　she　had　thought　she　wanted。
　
　Little　Elswyth　was　in　the　next　blood…soaked　bed。　Her　breasts　had　been　stabbed　countless　times；　and　her　throat　slit；　as　were　many　of　the　rest；　like　hogs　at　slaughter。　At　the　end　of　the　room；　Kahlan　stopped　at　the　foot　of　the　last　bed。　Ashley；　one　of　the　older　teenagers；　had　each　ankle　tied　to　a　footpost。　She　had　been　strangled　with　a　curtain　tieback。　Her　father　was　one　of　the　Galean　aides　to　the　ambassador　in　Aydindril。　Her　mother　had　been　thrilled　to　tears　when　Queen　Cyrilla　had　agreed　to　take　Ashley　on　as　one　of　her　ladies…in…waiting。
　
　How　would　she　ever　find　the　words　to　tell　Ashley’s　father　and　mother　what　had　happened　to　their　little　girl　while　in　the　service　of　their　queen？
　
　As　Kahlan　retraced　her　steps　through　the　length　of　the　room；　taking　a　last　look　at　each　dead　body；　at　each　face　frozen　in　horror　or　in　blank　submission；　she　idly　wondered　why　she　wasn’t　crying。　Shouldn’t　she　cry？　Shouldn’t　she　fall　to　her　knees；　scream　in　anguish；　pound　her　fists；　and　cry　until　she　drowned　in　tears？　But　she　didn’t。　She　felt　as　if　there　were　no　tears　to　be　had。
　
　Perhaps　there　were　too　many。　Perhaps　she　had　seen　so　many　that　day　that　it　had　simply　numbed　her　to　it。　Like　when　you　get　into　a　tub　of　water　for　a　bath；　and　at　first　you　feel　that　it　is　too　hot　to　stand；　that　surely　you　are　being　scalded；　but　after　a　few　minutes　it　seems　only　warm。
　
　She　softly　pulled　the　door　closed。　Chandalen　stood　in　the　exact　same　spot　she　had　left　him。　His　knuckles　were　white　on　his　bow。　Kahlan　walked　past　him；　expecting　him　to　follow。　He　didn’t。
　
　‘Most　women　would　cry；’　he　said　as　he　stared　at　the　door。
　
　She　felt　a　flush　of　heat　in　her　cheeks。　‘I　am　not　most　women。’
　
　Chandalen　didn’t　take　his　eyes　from　the　door。　‘No；　you　are　not。’
　
　His　eyes　finally　left　the　door　to　look　down　at　his　bow。　The　tension　left　his　shoulders　as　he　pulled　a　deep　breath；　as　if　it　was　the　first　he　had　taken　in　a　while。　‘I　wish　to　tell　you　a　story。’
　
　Kahlan　waited　a　few　paces　away。　‘I　do　not　wish　to　hear　a　story　right　now；　Chandalen。　Perhaps　later。’
　
　He　turned　his　fierce　brown　eyes　to　her。　‘I　wish　to　tell　you　a　story；’　he　repeated；　a　little　louder　this　time。
　
　She　sighed。　‘If　it’s　important　to　you；　then　tell　me。’
　
　Holding　her　gaze；　he　closed　the　distance　between　them。　He　was　a　scant　inch　shorter　than　she；　but　right　then　he　looked　taller　to　her。　‘When　my　grandfather　was　as　young；　and　strong’　…　he　tapped　his　puffed…up　chest　…　‘as　I　am　now；　he　already　had　a　wife；　and　two　sons。　Many　peoples　came　to　our　village　to　trade。　We　let　all　e。　We　kept　no　one　away。　All　were　wele。　The　Jocopo　were　one　of　these　people　who　came　to　trade。’
　
　‘Who　are　the　Jocopo？’　Kahlan　knew　every　people　in　the　Midlands；　but　had　never　heard　of　these。
　
　‘People　who　lived　to　the　west；　closer　to　where　the　boundary　was。’
　
　Kahlan　frowned　as　her　mind　searched　a　mental　map。　‘No　one　lives　to　the　west　of　the　Mud　People。　That　land　is　deserted。’
　
　Chandalen　watched　her　from　under　his　eyebrows。　‘The　Jocopo　were　big　people。’　He　held　his　hand　a　head　higher　than　he　was；　before　letting　it　fall　to　his　side。　‘But　they　were　always　peaceful。　Like　the　Bantak。　Like　our　people。　Then　they　made　war　on　us。　We　do　not　know　the　reason。　But　our　people　were　very　afraid。　They　would　shake　at　night；　in　the　fear　that　the　Jocopo　might　e　again　the　next　day。　They　would　e　to　our　village；　and　cut　the　men’s　throats；　and　take　women；　and　do　these　things　to　them。’　He　flicked　his　hand　selfconsciously　at　the　door。
　
　‘Rape；’　she　said　in　an　even　tone。　‘It　is　called　rape。’
　
　He