tw.togreenangeltower2-第91节

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　　　　　　　〃My　mother　realized　。。。　with　help　from　me　。。。　that　her　game　was　over。　There　was　nothing　left　but　shame。　So　she　took　poison。　I　had　my　own　way。〃
　　　　　　　〃But　you　could　have　escaped；　surely。　You　still　control　the　seas。〃
〃Escape　to　where？〃　Benigaris　spat　another　scarlet　gobbet。　'To　the　loving　arms　of　your　brother　and　his　pet　wizard？　And　in　any　case；　the　damnable　docks　belong　to　Streawe　now…I　thought　I　was　holding　him　prisoner；　but　he　was　gnawing　away　at　my　power　from　within。　The　count　is　playing　us　all　off　each　other　for　his　own　profit。〃　The　duke's　breath　sawed　in　and　out。　〃No；　the　end　had　e…I　saw　it　as　soon　as　the　Onestrine　Pass　fell。　So　I　chose　my　own　death。　I　was　duke　less　than　a　year；　Josua。　No　one　would　ever　have　remembered　me　as　anything　but　a　father…murderer。　Now；　if　anyone　survives；　I　will　be　the　man　who　fought　Camaris　for　the　throne　of　Nabban。。。　and　damned　near　won。〃
　　　　　　　Josua　was　looking　at　Benigaris　with　an　expression　that　was　not　quite　recognizable。　Tiamak　could　not　let　the　question　go　unasked。
　　　　　　　〃What　do　you　mean；　'if　anyone　survives'？〃
Benigaris　looked　at　the　Wrannaman　with　contempt。　〃It　talks。〃　He　slowly　turned　back　to　the　prince。　〃Oh；　yes；〃　he　said；　his　labored　breathing　not　disguising　his　relish；　〃I　forgot　to　tell　you。　You　have　won　your　prize…but　you　may　not　get　much　joy　from　it；　Josua。〃
　　　　　　　〃I　almost　felt　sorry　for　you；　Benigaris；〃　the　prince　said。　〃But　the　feeling　has　passed。〃　He　stood　up。
　　　　　　　〃Wait！〃　Benigaris　raised　a　bloody　hand。　〃You　really　should　know　this；　Josua。　Stay　just　a　moment。　I　won't　embarrass　you　long。〃
　　　　　　　〃Speak。〃
　　　　　　　'The　ghants　are　crawling　up　out　of　the　swamps。　The　riders　have　begun　ing　in　from　the　Lakelands　and　the　coast　towns　along　Firannos　Bay　bearing　the　tale。　They　are　swarming。　Oh；　there　are　more　of　them　than　you　can　imagine；　Josua。〃　He　laughed；　bringing　up　a　fresh　welter　of　blood。　〃And　that's　not　all；〃　he　said　gleefully。　〃There　was　another　reason　I　had　no　desire　to　flee　Nabban　by　boat。　The　kilpa；　too；　seem　to　have　gone　mad。　The　Niskies　are　terrified。　So　you　see；　not　only　did　I　buy　myself　a　clean　and　honorable　death　。。。　but　it　is　a　death　you　and　yours　might　find　yourself　envying　very　soon。〃
〃And　your　own　people？〃　Josua　asked　angrily。　〃Do　you　care　nothing　for　them？　If　what　you　say　is　true；　they　are　already　suffering。〃
　　　　　　　〃My　people？〃　Benigaris　wheezed。　〃No　more。　I　am　dead；　and　the　dead　have　no　loyalty。　And　in　any　case；　they　are　your　people　now…yours　and　my　uncle's。〃
　　　　　　　Josua　stared　at　him　for　a　long　moment；　then　turned　and　strode　away。　Camaris　tried　to　follow　him；　but　he　was　quickly　surrounded　by　a　curious　mob　of　soldiers　and　Nabbanai　citizens　and　could　not　break　away。
Tiamak　was　left　to　kneel　beside　the　fallen　duke　and　watch　him　die。　The　sun　was　almost　touching　the　horizon；　and　cold　shadows　were　stretching　across　the　hillside；　when　Benigaris　finally　stopped　breathing。

20
Prisoner　on　the　Wheel

　　　　　　　Simon　first　thought　the　great　underground　forge　was　someone's　attempt　to　recreate　Hell。　After　he　had　been　captive　there　for　nearly　a　fortnight；　he　was　certain　of　it。
　　　　　　　He　and　the　other　men　seemed　barely　to　have　fallen　into　their　ragged　nests　at　the　end　of　one　backbreaking　day　before　one　of　Inch's　assistants…a　handful　of　men　less　terrifying　but　no　more　humane　than　their　master…was　braying　at　them　to　get　up　and　start　the　next。　Almost　dizzy　with　weariness　before　the　work　had　even　begun；　Simon　and　his　fellow　prisoners　would　gulp　down　a　cupful　of　thin　porridge　that　tasted　of　rust；　then　stumble　out　to　the　foundry　floor。
　　　　　　　If　the　cavern　where　the　workers　slept　was　unpleasantly　hot；　the　vast　forge　cavern　was　an　inferno。　The　stifling　heat　pressed　against　Simon's　face　until　his　eyeballs　felt　dry　as　walnut　shells　and　his　skin　seemed　about　to　crisp　and　peel　away。　Each　day　brought　a　long；　dreary　round　of　backbreaking；　finger…burning　labor；　made　bearable　only　by　the　man　who　brought　the　water　dipper。　It　seemed　eons　between　drinks。
　　　　　　　Simon's　one　piece　of　luck　was　that　he　had　fallen　in　with　Stanhelm；　who　alone　among　the　wretches　working　in　the　forge　seemed　to　have　retained　most　of　his　humanity。　Stanhelm　showed　the　new　prisoner　the　spots　to　go　and　catch　a　breath　where　the　air　was　a　little　cooler；　which　of　Inch's　minions　to　avoid　most　scrupulously；　and；　most　importantly；　how　to　look　like　he　belonged　in　the　forge。　The　older　man　did　not　know　that　Simon　had　a　particular　reason　to　stay　nameless　and　unnoticed；　but　sensibly　believed　that　no　one　should　invite　Inch's　attention；　so　he　also　taught　the　new　prisoner　what　was　expected　of　all　the　workers；　the　greatest　part　of　which　was　cringing　subservience；　Simon　learned　to　keep　his　eyes　lowered　and　work　fast　and　hard　whenever　Inch　was　near。　He　also　tied　a　strip　of　rag　around　his　finger　to　cover　his　golden　ring。　He　was　unwilling　to　let　such　a　precious　thing　out　of　his　grasp；　but　he　knew　it　would　be　a　terrible　mistake　to　let　others　see　it。
　　　　　　　Stanhelm's　work　was　to　sort　bits　of　waste　metal　for　the　crucibles。　He　had　Simon　join　him　at　it；　then　taught　his　new　apprentice　how　to　tell　copper　from　bronze　and　tin　from　lead　by　tapping　the　metal　against　stone　or　scratching　its　surface　with　a　jagged　iron　bar。
　　　　　　　A　strange　jumble　of　things　passed　through　their　hands　on　the　way　to　the　smelter；　chains　and　pots　and　crushed　bits　of　plating　whose　original　purpose　was　unguessable；　wagon　rims　and　barrel　bands；　sacks　full　of　bent　nails；　fire　irons；　and　door　hinges。　Once　Simon　lifted　a　delicately　wrought　bottle　rack　and　recognized　it　as　something　that　had　hung　on　the　wall　of　Doctor　Morgenes'　chamber；　but　as　he　stared；　caught　for　a　moment　in　an　eddying　memory　of　a　happier　past；　Stanhelm　nudged　him　in　warning　that　Inch　was　approaching。　Simon　hurriedly　tossed　it　into　the　pile。
　　　　　　　The　scrap　metal　was　carried　to　the　row　of　crucibles　that　hung　in　the　forge　fire；　a　blaze　as　large　as　a　house；　fed　with　a　seemingly　unending　supply　of　charcoal　and　heated　by　bellows　that　were　themselves　pumped　by　the　action　of　the　foundry's　massive　water　wheel；　which　was　three　times　as　high　as　a　man　and　revolved　ceaselessly；　day　and　night。　Fanned　by　the　bellows；　the　forge　fire　burned　with　such　incredible　ferocity　that　it　seemed　a　miracle　to　Simon　the　very　stone　of　the　cavern　did　not　melt。　The　crucibles；　each　containing　a　different　metal；　were　moved　by　a　collection　of　blackened　chains　and　pulleys　which　were　also　connected　to　the　wheel。　Yet　another　set　of　chains；　so　much　larger　than　the　links　that　moved　the　crucibles　that　they　seemed　made　to　shackle　giants；　extended　upward　from　the　wheel's　hub　and　vanished　into　a　darkened　crevice　in　the　forge　chamber's　roof。　Not　even　Stanhelm　wanted　to　talk　about　where　those　went；　but　Simon　gathered　it　had　something　to　do　with　Pryrates。
　　　　　　　In　stolen　moments；　Stanhelm　showed　Simon　the　whole　process；　how　the　scrap　was　melted　down　to　a　glowing　red　liquid；　then　decanted　from　the　crucibles　and　formed　into　sows；　long　cylindrical　chunks　of　raw　metal　which；　when　cool；　were　carried　away　by　sweating　men　to　another　part　of　the　vast　chamber　where　they　would　be　shaped　into　whatever　it　was　that　Inch　supplied　to　his　king。　Armor　and　weapons；　Simon　guessed；　since　in　all　the　great　quantities　of　scrap；　he　had　seen　almost　no　articles　of　war　that　were　not　damaged　beyond　use。　It　made　sense　that　Elias　wished　to　convert　every　unnecessary　bit　of　metal　into　arrow　heads　and　sword　blades。
　　　　　　　As　the　days　passed；　it　became　more　and　more　clear　to　Simon　that　there　was　little　chance　he　would　escape　from　this　place。　Stanhelm　told　him　that　only　a　few　prisoners　had　escaped　during　the　past　year　and　all　but　one　had　quickly　been　dragged　back。　None　of　the　recaptured　had　lived　long　after　returning。
　　　　　　　And　the　one　who　escaped　was　Jeremias；　Simon　thought。　He　only　managed　it　because　Inch　was　foolish　enough　to　let　him　go　upstairs　on　an　errand。　I　doubt　I　will　get　such　a　chance。
　　　　　　　The　feeling　of　being　trapped　was　so　powerful；　the　impulse　to　flee　so　intense；　that　at　times　Simon　could　hardly　stand　it。　He　thought　obsessively　about　being　carried　upward　by　the　great　water　wheel　chains　to　whatever　dark　place　they　went。　He　dreamed　of　finding　a　tunnel　leading　out　of　the　great　chamber；　as　he　had　during　his　first　escape　from　the　Hayholt；　but　they　were　all　filled　in　now；　or　led　only　to　other　parts　of　the　forge。　Supplies　from　the　outside　came　with　Thrithings　mercenary　guards　armed　with　spears　and　axes；　and　the　arrival　of　anything　was　always　supervised　by　Inch　or　one　of　his　chieftains。　The　only　keys　hung　rattling　on　Inch's　broad　belt。
　　　　　　　Time　was　growing　short　for　his　friends；　for　Josua's　cause；　and　Simon　was　helpless。
And　Pryrates　has　not　left　the　castle；　either。　So　it　is　likely　only　a　matter　of　time　until　he　es　back　here。　What　if　he　is　not　in　such　a　hurry　next　time？　What　if　he　recognizes　me？
　　　　　　　Whenever　he　seemed　to　be　alone　and　unwatched；　Simon　hunted　for　anything　that　might　help　him　to　escape；　but　he　found　little　that　gave　him　any　hope。　He　pocketed　a　piece　of　scrap　iron　and　took　to　sharpening　it　against　the　stone　when　he　was　supposed　to　be　sleeping。　If　Pryrates　discovered　him　at　last；　he　would　do　what　damage　he　could。

　　　　　　　Simon　and　Stanhelm　were　standing　near　the　scrap　pile；　panting　for　breath。　The　older　man　had　cut　himself　on　a　jag