ggk.thelionsofal-rassan-第1节

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Many　a　blond；　northern　moonrise；
like　a　muted　reflection；　will　softly
remind　me　and　remind　me　again　and　again。
It　will　be　my　bride；　my　alter　ego。
An　incentive　to　find　myself。　I　myself
am　the　moonrise　of　the　south。
　　…Paul　Klee；　The　Tunisian　Diaries
　　
Prologue
　　It　was　just　past　midday；　not　long　before　the　third　summons　to　prayer；　that　Ammar　ibn　Khairan　passed　through　the　Gate　of　the　Bells　and　entered　the　palace　of　Al…Fontina　in　Silvenes　to　kill　the　last　of　the　khalifs　of　Al…Rassan。
　　Passing　into　the　Court　of　Lions　he　came　to　the　three　sets　of　double　doors　and　paused　before　those　that　led　to　the　gardens。　There　were　eunuchs　guarding　the　doors。　He　knew　them　by　name。　They　had　been　dealt　with。　One　of　them　nodded　slightly　to　him；　the　other　kept　his　gaze　averted。　He　preferred　the　second　man。　They　opened　the　heavy　doors　and　he　went　through。　He　heard　them　swing　closed　behind　him。
　　In　the　heat　of　the　day　the　gardens　were　deserted。　All　those　still　left　within　the　dissolving　magnificence　of　the　Al…Fontina　would　have　sought　the　shade　of　the　innermost　rooms。　They　would　be　sipping　cool　sweet　wines　or　using　the　elaborately　long　spoons　designed　by　Ziryani　to　taste　sherbets　kept　frozen　in　the　deep　cellars　by　snow　brought　down　from　the　mountains。　Luxuries　from　another　age；　meant　for　very　different　men　and　women　from　those　who　dwelt　here　now。
　　Thinking　such　thoughts；　ibn　Khairan　walked　noiselessly　through　the　Garden　of　Oranges　and；　passing　through　the　horseshoe　arch；　into　the　Almond　Garden　and　then；　beneath　another　arch；　into　the　Cypress　Garden　with　its　one　tall；　perfect　tree　reflected　in　three　pools。　Each　garden　was　smaller　than　the　one　before；　each　heartbreaking　in　its　loveliness。　The　Al…Fontina；　a　poet　once　had　said；　had　been　built　to　break　the　heart。
　　At　the　end　of　the　long　progression　he　came　to　the　Garden　of　Desire；　smallest　and　most　jewel…like　of　all。　And　there；　sitting　quietly　and　alone　on　the　broad　rim　of　the　fountain；　clad　in　white；　was　Muzafar；　as　had　been　prearranged。
　　Ibn　Khairan　bowed　in　the　archway；　a　habit　deeply　ingrained。　The　old；　blind　man　could　not　see　his　obeisance。　After　a　moment　he　moved　forward；　stepping　deliberately　on　the　pathway　that　led　to　the　fountain。
　　〃Ammar？〃　Muzafar　said；　hearing　the　sound。　〃They　told　me　you　would　be　here。　Is　it　you？　Have　you　e　to　lead　me　away　from　here？　Is　it　you；　Ammar？〃
　　There　were　many　things　that　could　be　said。　〃It　is；〃　said　ibn　Khairan；　walking　up。　He　drew　his　dagger　from　its　sheath。　The　old　man's　head　lifted　suddenly　at　that；　as　if　he　knew　the　sound。　〃I　have；　indeed；　e　to　set　you　free　of　this　place　of　ghosts　and　echoes。〃
　　With　the　words　he　slid　the　blade　smoothly　to　the　hilt　in　the　old　man's　heart。　Muzafar　made　no　sound。　It　had　been　swift　and　sure。　He　could　tell　the　wadjis　in　their　temples；　if　it　ever　came　to　such　a　thing；　that　he　had　made　it　an　easy　end。
　　He　laid　the　body　down　on　the　fountain　rim；　ordering　the　limbs　within　the　white　robe　to　allow　the　dead　man　as　much　dignity　as　could　be。　He　cleaned　his　blade　in　the　fountain；　watching　the　waters　swirl　briefly　red。　In　the　teachings　of　his　people；　for　hundreds　and　hundreds　of　years；　going　back　and　away　to　the　deserts　of　the　east　where　the　faith　of　the　Asharites　had　begun；　it　was　a　crime　without　possibility　of　assuaging　to　slay　one　of　the　god's　anointed　khalifs。　He　looked　down　at　Muzafar；　at　the　round；　wrinkled　face；　sadly　irresolute　even　in　death。
　　He　has　not　been　truly　anointed；　Almalik　had　said；　back　in　Cartada。　All　men　know　this。
　　There　had　been　four　puppet　khalifs　this　year　alone；　one　other　here　in　Silvenes　before　Muzafar；　one　in　Tudesca；　and　the　poor　child　in　Salos。　It　was　not　a　situation　that　could　have　been　allowed　to　continue。　The　other　three　were　already　dead。　Muzafar　was　only　the　last。
　　Only　the　last。　There　had　been　lions　once　in　Al…Rassan；　lions　upon　the　dais　in　this　palace　that　had　been　built　to　make　men　fall　to　their　knees　upon　marble　and　alabaster　before　the　dazzling　evidence　of　a　glory　beyond　their　grasp。
　　Muzafar　had；　indeed；　never　been　properly　anointed；　just　as　Almalik　of　Cartada　had　said。　But　the　thought　came　to　Ammar　ibn　Khairan　as　he　stood　in　his　twentieth　year　in　the　Garden　of　Desire　of　the　Al…Fontina　of　Silvenes；　cleansing　his　blade　of　a　man's　red　blood；　that　whatever　else　he　did　with　his　life；　in　the　days　and　nights　Ashar　and　the　god　saw　fit　to　grant　him　under　the　holy　circling　of　their　stars；　he　might　ever　after　be　known　as　the　man　who　slew　the　last　khalif　of　Al…Rassan。
　　〃You　are　best　with　the　god　among　the　stars。　It　will　be　a　time　of　wolves　now；〃　he　said　to　the　dead　man　on　the　fountain　rim　before　drying　and　sheathing　his　blade　and　walking　back　through　the　four　perfect；　empty　gardens　to　the　doors　where　the　bribed　eunuchs　waited　to　let　him　out。　On　the　way　he　heard　one　foolish　bird　singing　in　the　fierce　white　light　of　midday；　and　then　he　heard　the　bells　begin；　summoning　all　good　men　to　holy　prayer。
　　
Part　I
One
　　Always　remember　that　they　e　from　the　desert。
　　Back　in　the　days　before　Jehane　had　begun　her　own　practice；　in　that　time　when　her　father　could　still　talk　to　her；　and　teach；　he　had　offered　those　words　to　her　over　and　again；　speaking　of　the　ruling　Asharites　among　whom　they　dwelt　on　sufferance；　and　labored…as　the　scattered　tribes　of　the　Kindath　did　everywhere…to　create　a　small　space　in　the　world　of　safety　and　a　measure　of　repose。
　　〃But　we　have　the　desert　in　our　own　history；　don't　we？〃　she　could　remember　asking　once；　the　question　thrown　back　as　a　challenge。　She　had　never　been　an　easy　pupil；　not　for　him；　not　for　anyone。
　　〃We　passed　through；〃　Ishak　had　replied　in　the　beautifully　modulated　voice。　〃We　sojourned　for　a　time；　on　our　way。　We　were　never　truly　a　people　of　the　dunes。　They　are。　Even　here　in　Al…Rassan；　amid　gardens　and　water　and　trees；　the　Star…born　are　never　sure　of　the　permanence　of　such　things。　They　remain　in　their　hearts　what　they　were　when　they　first　accepted　the　teachings　of　Ashar　among　the　sands。　When　you　are　in　doubt　as　to　how　to　understand　one　of　them；　remind　yourself　of　this　and　your　way　will　likely　be　made　clear。〃
　　In　those　days；　despite　her　fractiousness；　Jehane's　father's　words　had　been　as　text　and　holy　guide　for　her。　On　another　occasion；　after　she　had　plained　for　the　third　time　during　a　tedious　morning　preparing　powders　and　infusions；　Ishak　had　mildly　cautioned　that　a　doctor's　life　might　often　be　dull；　but　was　not　invariably　so；　and　there　would　be　times　when　she　found　herself　longing　for　quiet　routine。
　　She　was　to　sharply　call　to　mind　both　of　these　teachings　before　she　finally　fell　asleep　at　the　end　of　the　day　that　would　long　afterwards　be　known　in　Fezana…with　curses；　and　black　candles　burned　in　memory…as　The　Day　of　the　Moat。
　　It　was　a　day　that　would　be　remembered　all　her　life　by　Jehane　bet　Ishak；　the　physician；　for　reasons　over　and　above　those　of　her　fellow　citizens　in　that　proud；　notoriously　rebellious　town：　she　lost　her　urine　flask　in　the　afternoon；　and　a　part　of　her　heart　forever　before　the　moons　had　set。
　　The　flask；　for　reasons　of　family　history；　was　not　a　trivial　matter。
　　The　day　had　begun　at　the　weekly　market　by　the　Cartada　Gate。　Just　past　sunrise；　Jehane　was　in　the　booth　by　the　fountain　that　had　been　her　father's　before　her；　in　time　to　see　the　last　of　the　farmers　ing　in　from　the　countryside　with　their　produce…laden　mules。　In　a　white　linen　robe　beneath　the　physician's　green　and　white　awning；　she　settled　in；　cross…legged　on　her　cushion；　for　a　morning　of　seeing　patients。　Velaz　hovered；　as　ever；　behind　her　in　the　booth；　ready　to　measure　and　dispense　remedies　as　she　requested　them；　and　to　ward　off　any　difficulties　a　young　woman　might　encounter　in　a　place　as　tumultuous　as　the　market。　Trouble　was　unlikely；　however；　Jehane　was　well…known　by　now。
　　A　morning　at　the　Cartada　Gate　involved　prescribing　mostly　for　farmers　from　beyond　the　walls　but　there　were　also　city　servants；　artisans；　women　bargaining　for　staples　at　the　market　and；　not　infrequently；　those　among　the　high…born　too　frugal　to　pay　for　a　private　visit；　or　too　proud　to　be　treated　at　home　by　one　of　the　Kindath。　Such　patients　never　came　in　person；　they　would　send　a　household　woman　bearing　a　urine　flask　for　diagnosis；　and　sometimes　a　script　spelled　out　by　a　scribe　outlining　symptoms　and　plaints。
　　Jehane's　own　urine　flask；　which　had　been　her　father's；　was　prominently　visible　on　the　counter　beneath　the　awning。　It　was　a　family　signature；　an　announcement。　A　magnificent　example　of　the　glassblower's　art；　the　flask　was　etched　with　images　of　the　two　moons　the　Kindath　worshipped　and　the　Higher　Stars　of　divination。
　　In　some　ways　it　was　an　object　too　beautiful　for　everyday　use；　given　the　unglamorous　function　it　was　meant　to　serve。　The　flask　had　been　made　by　an　artisan　in　Lonza　six　years　ago；　missioned　by　King　Almalik　of　Cartada　after　Ishak　had　guided　the　midwives…from　the　far　side　of　the　birthing　screen…through　the　difficult　but　successful　delivery　of　Almalik's　third　son。
　　When　the　time　had　e　for　the　delivery　of　a　fourth　son；　an　even　more　difficult　birth；　but　also；　ultimately；　a　successful　one；　Ishak　of　Fezana；　the　celebrated　Kindath　physician；　had　been　given　a　different；　controversial　gift　by　Cartada's　king。　A　more　generous　offering　in　its　wa