sk.thetalisman-第113节

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　inconclusive　but　terribly　provocative　tale；　the　words　were　nearly　pouring　out。　Jack　had　no　trouble　following　the　tale　he　told　in　spite　of　the　man's　accent；　which　his　mind　kept　translating　into　a　sort　of　ersatz　Robert　Burns　burr。
　　Anders　knew　Morgan　because　Morgan　was；　quite　simply；　Lord　of　the　Outposts。　His　real　title；　Morgan　of　Orris；　was　not　so　grand；　but　as　a　practical　matter；　the　two　came　to　nearly　the　same。　Orris　was　the　easternmost　cantonment　of　the　Outposts；　and　the　only　really　organized　part　of　that　large；　grassy　area。　Because　he　ruled　Orris　utterly　and　pletely；　Morgan　ruled　the　rest　of　the　Outposts　by　default。　Also；　the　bad　Wolfs　had　begun　to　gravitate　to　Morgan　in　the　last　fifteen　years　or　so。　At　first　that　meant　little；　because　there　were　only　a　few　bad　（except　the　word　Anders　used　also　sounded　a　bit　like　rabid　to　Jack's　ear）　Wolfs。　But　in　later　years　there　had　been　more　and　more　of　them；　and　Anders　said　he　had　heard　tales　that；　since　the　Queen　had　fallen　ill；　more　than　half　the　tribe　of　skin…turning　shepherds　were　rotten　with　the　sickness。　Nor　were　these　the　only　creatures　at　Morgan　of　Orris's　mand；　Anders　said；　there　were　others；　even　worse…some；　it　was　told；　could　drive　a　man　mad　at　a　single　look。
　　Jack　thought　of　Elroy；　the　bogeyman　of　the　Oatley　Tap；　and　shuddered。
　　'Does　this　part　of　the　Outposts　we're　in　have　a　name？'　Jack　asked。
　　'My　Lord？'
　　'This　part　we're　in　now。'
　　'No　real　name；　my　Lord；　but　I've　heard　people　call　it　Ellis…Breaks。'
　　'Ellis…Breaks；'　Jack　said。　A　picture　of　Territories　geography；　vague　and　probably　in　many　ways　incorrect；　was　finally　beginning　to　take　shape　in　Jack's　mind。　There　were　the　Territories；　which　corresponded　to　the　American　east；　the　Outposts；　which　corresponded　to　the　American　midwest　and　great　plains　（Ellis…Breaks？　Illinois？　Nebraska？）；　and　the　Blasted　Lands；　which　corresponded　to　the　American　west。
　　He　looked　at　Anders　so　long　and　so　fixedly　that　at　last　the　liveryman　began　to　stir　uneasily　again。　'I'm　sorry；'　Jack　said。　'Go　on。'　
　　His　father；　Anders　said；　had　been　the　last　stage　driver　who　'drove　out　east'　from　Outpost　Depot。　Anders　had　been　his　'prentice。　But　even　in　those　days；　he　said；　there　were　great　confusions　and　upheavals　in　the　east；　the　murder　of　the　old　King　and　the　short　war　which　had　followed　it　had　seen　the　beginning　of　those　upheavals；　and　although　the　war　had　ended　with　the　installation　of　Good　Queen　Laura；　the　upheavals　had　gone　on　ever　since；　seeming　to　work　their　way　steadily　eastward；　out　of　the　spoiled　and　twisted　Blasted　Lands。　There　were　some；　Anders　said；　who　believed　the　evil　had　begun　all　the　way　west。
　　'I'm　not　sure　I　understand　you；'　Jack　said；　although　in　his　heart　he　thought　he　did。
　　'At　land's　end；'　Anders　said。　'At　the　edge　of　the　big　water；　where　I　am　bound　to　go。'
　　In　other　words；　it　began　in　the　same　place　my　father　came　from　。　。　。　my　father；　and　me；　and　Richard　。　。　。　and　Morgan。　Old　Bloat。
　　The　troubles；　Anders　said；　had　e　to　the　Outposts；　and　now　the　Wolf　tribe　was　partly　rotten…just　how　rotten　none　could　say；　but　the　liveryman　told　Jack　he　was　afraid　that　the　rot　would　be　the　end　of　them　if　it　didn't　stop　soon。　The　upheavals　had　e　here；　and　now　they　had　even　reached　the　east；　where；　he　had　heard；　the　Queen　lay　ill　and　near　death。
　　'That's　not　true；　is　it；　my　Lord？'　Anders　asked　。　。　。　almost　begged。
　　Jack　looked　at　him。　'Should　I　know　how　to　answer　that？'　he　asked。
　　'Of　course；'　Anders　said。　'Are　ye　not　her　son？'
　　For　a　moment；　the　entire　world　seemed　to　bee　very　quiet。　The　sweet　hum　of　the　bugs　outside　stilled。　Richard　seemed　to　pause　between　heavy；　sluggish　breaths。
　　Even　his　own　heart　seemed　to　pause　。　。　。　perhaps　that　most　of　all。
　　Then；　his　voice　perfectly　even；　he　said；　'Yes　。　。　。　I　am　her　son。　And　it's　true　。　。　。　she's　very　ill。'
　　'But　dying？'　Anders　persisted；　his　eyes　nakedly　pleading　now。　'Is　she　dying；　my　Lord？'　
　　Jack　smiled　a　little　and　said：　'That　remains　to　be　seen。'
　　　
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　　Anders　said　that　until　the　troubles　began；　Morgan　of　Orris　had　been　a　little…known　frontier　lord　and　no　more；　he　had　inherited　his　ic…opera　title　from　a　father　who　had　been　a　greasy；　evil…smelling　buffoon。　Morgan's　father　had　been　something　of　a　laughing…stock　while　alive；　Anders　went　on；　and　had　even　been　a　laughing…stock　in　his　manner　of　dying。
　　'He　was　taken　with　the　squitters　after　a　day　of　drinking　peach…fruit　wine　and　died　while　on　the　trots。'　
　　People　had　been　prepared　to　make　the　old　man's　son　a　laughing…stock　as　well；　but　the　laughing　had　stopped　soon　after　the　hangings　in　Orris　began。　And　when　the　troubles　began　in　the　years　after　the　death　of　the　old　King；　Morgan　had　risen　in　importance　as　a　star　of　evil　omen　rises　in　the　sky。
　　All　of　this　meant　little　this　far　out　in　the　Outposts…these　great　empty　spaces；　Anders　said；　made　politics　seem　unimportant。　Only　the　deadly　change　in　the　Wolf　tribe　made　a　practical　difference　to　them；　and　since　most　of　the　bad　Wolfs　went　to　the　Other　Place；　even　that　didn't　make　much　difference　to　them　（'It　fashes　us　little；　my　Lord'　was　what　Jack's　ears　insisted　they　had　heard）。
　　Then；　not　long　after　the　news　of　the　Queen's　illness　had　reached　this　far　west；　Morgan　had　sent　out　a　crew　of　grotesque；　twisted　slaves　from　the　ore…pits　back　east；　these　slaves　were　tended　by　stolen　Wolfs　and　other；　stranger　creatures。　Their　foreman　was　a　terrible　man　who　carried　a　whip；　he　had　been　here　almost　constantly　when　the　work　began；　but　then　he　had　disappeared。　Anders；　who　had　spent　most　of　those　terrible　weeks　and　months　cowering　in　his　house；　which　was　some　five　miles　south　of　here；　had　been　delighted　to　see　him　go。　He　had　heard　rumors　that　Morgan　had　called　the　man　with　the　whip　back　east；　where　affairs　were　reaching　some　great　point　of　climax；　Anders　didn't　know　if　this　was　true　or　not；　and　didn't　care。　He　was　simply　glad　that　the　man；　who　was　sometimes　acpanied　by　a　scrawny；　somehow　gruesome…looking　little　boy；　was　gone。
　　'His　name；'　Jack　demanded。　'What　was　his　name？'
　　'My　Lord；　I　don't　know。　The　Wolfs　called　him　He　of　the　Lashes。　The　slaves　just　called　him　the　devil。　I'd　say　they　were　both　right。'
　　'Did　he　dress　like　a　dandy？　Velvet　coats？　Shoes　with　buckles　on　the　tops；　maybe？'　
　　Anders　was　nodding。
　　'Did　he　wear　a　lot　of　strong　perfume？'
　　'Aye！　Aye；　he　did！'
　　'And　the　whip　had　little　rawhide　strings　with　metal　caps　on　them。'
　　'Aye；　my　Lord。　An　evil　whip。　And　he　was　fearsome　good　with　it；　aye；　he　was。'
　　It　was　Osmond。　It　was　Sunlight　Gardener。　He　was　here；　overseeing　some　project　for　Morgan　。　。　。　then　the　Queen　got　sick　and　Osmond　was　called　back　to　the　summer　palace；　where　I　first　made　his　cheerful　acquaintance。
　　'His　son；'　Jack　said。　'What　did　his　son　look　like？'
　　'Skinny；'　Anders　said　slowly。　'One　eye　was　afloat。　That's　all　I　can　remember。　He　。　。　。　my　Lord；　the　Whipman's　son　was　hard　to　see。　The　Wolfs　seemed　more　afraid　of　him　than　of　his　father；　although　the　son　carried　no　whip。　They　said　he　was　dim。'
　　'Dim；'　Jack　mused。
　　'Yes。　It　is　their　word　for　one　who　is　hard　to　see；　no　matter　how　hard　ye　look　for　that　one。　Invisibility　is　impossible…so　the　Wolfs　say…but　one　can　make　himself　dim　if　only　he　knows　the　trick　of　it。　Most　Wolfs　do；　and　this　little　whoreson　knew　it；　too。　So　all　I　remember　is　how　thin　he　was；　and　that　floating　eye；　and　that　he　was　as　ugly　as　black；　syphilitic　sin。'　
　　Anders　paused。
　　'He　liked　to　hurt　things。　Little　things。　He　used　to　take　them　under　the　porch　and　I'd　hear　the　most　awful　screams　'　Anders　shuddered。　'That　was　one　of　the　reasons　I　kept　to　my　house；　you　know。　I　don't　like　to　hear　wee　animals　in　pain。　Makes　me　feel　turrible　bad；　it　does。'　
　　Everything　Anders　said　raised　a　hundred　fresh　questions　in　Jack's　mind。　He　would　particularly　have　liked　to　know　all　that　Anders　knew　about　the　Wolfs…just　hearing　of　them　woke　simultaneous　pleasure　and　a　deep；　dully　painful　longing　for　his　Wolf　in　his　heart。
　　But　time　was　short；　this　man　was　scheduled　to　drive　west　into　the　Blasted　Lands　in　the　morning；　a　horde　of　crazy　scholars　led　by　Morgan　himself　might　burst　through　from　what　the　liveryman　called　the　Other　Place　at　any　moment；　Richard　might　wake　up　and　want　to　know　who　this　Morgan　was　they　were　discussing；　and　who　this　dim　fellow　was…this　dim　fellow　who　sounded　suspiciously　like　the　fellow　who　had　lived　next　door　to　him　in　Nelson　House。
　　'They　came；'　he　prompted；　'this　crew　came；　and　Osmond　was　their　foreman…at　least　until　he　was　called　away　or　whenever　he　had　to　lead　the　devotions　at　night…chapel　back　in　Indiana…'
　　'My　Lord？'　Anders's　face　was　again　ponderous　with　puzzlement。
　　'They　came；　and　they　built　。　。　。　what？'　He　was　sure　he　already　knew　the　answer　to　this；　but　he　wanted　to　hear　Anders　himself　say　it。
　　'Why；　the　tracks；'　Anders　said。　'The　tracks　going　west　into　the　Blasted　Lands。　The　tracks　I　must　travel　myself　tomorrow。'　He　shuddered。
　　'No；'　Jack　said。　A　hot；　terrible　excitement　exploded　in　his　chest　like　a　sun；　and　he　rose　to　his　feet。　Again　there　was　that　click　in　his　head；　that　terrible；　persuasive　feeling　of　great　things　ing　together。
　　Anders　fell　on　his　knees　with　a　crash　as　a　terrible；　beautiful