fs.thesecondbookofswords-第39节
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Ben nudged him。 〃Whitehands；〃 the big man murmured。 Indeed the main distinguishing feature of the beings leaped to the eye at once： the huge； pale hands； now at work setting out kegs probably of ale； bottles of wine； crocks of something that might be mead； to judge by the sudden sweetish smell in the air。 The strength of those large hands was being demonstrated； yet they looked soft。 The rest of the beings' physical appearance also varied from that of mon humanity。 They had large； staring eyes … the better； Mark supposed； to see in darkness … set in pallid faces。 Large ears as well； and worried； thin…lipped mouths。 Hair was mostly worn or withered away； and skin was wrinkled。 Stature varied； among the three now present； but the average of this small sample was on the short side for humanity。 All were in uniform； wearing highnecked blue shirts and smooth short golden capes。 Their clothing was immaculate； as pared to the scruffy patchwork garb worn by the military garrison。
The mander of that garrison； the conductor of its most recent successful defense； waddled straight up to the bar。 Before he could speak； the tallest of the creatures behind it pounced upon him verbally； asking whether the fighting had been extensive。 〃It sounded bad； from here。 Was there much damage？ Costly？〃
The Field Marshal roared back at him： 〃With me and my best people on the job？ Not bloody likely！ Now bring on the booze； we've earned it。 And start the food。 And how about some music？〃
A shout of approval for this speech went up from d'Albarno's followers； who were already massing just behind him and along the bar。 This noise left audible only the last words of the next anxious question from the Whitehand leader： 〃。。。 the prisoners？〃
〃Of course I've got the prisoners under control！ Who's mander of the garrison here； anyway？ Not you； you damned white…handed； white…livered blob of money…fat！〃
The one who stood behind the bar looked perfectly secure in his own superiority to such behavior； and only distantly offended。 〃As soon as First Chairman Benambra shows up； I'm going to speak to him about this。〃
Mark thought that this threat had an effect on d'Albarno。 But the Field Marshal was not going to let it show if he could help it。 〃Speak away；〃 he thundered at the other。 〃But； until then； you're going to serve us BOOZE！〃
Another explosive expression of support burst up behind him。 Men and Amazons surged forward to the bar。 Those weaker； or perhaps only less desperate for drink； were pushed aside。 The Whitehands who had been speaking to d'Albarno nodded fatalistically to his fellows； and he and the others began to pour and serve。
Ben； appearing more bemused than ever； looked over at Mark and asked： 〃What was that about 'Benambra'？〃
Another man answered him before Mark could speak。 〃Most of the people we get in here recognize that name。〃 This was from one of the garrison； a paratively healthy…looking specimen； who had been forced close to the prisoners in the increasing crush。 （And were we really facing this many of them out there？ Mark wondered silently。 If so； Doon had certainly been wise to do what he did。）
The trooper who had just spoken had by some legerdemain already gotten a filled mug in his hand。 He added now： 〃The first High Priest。 You know。 There used to be an old song about him； when I was still topside。 He's still here； though I bet the cave's changed a lot since he first started hiding Temple treasure in it。 You better push your way up there and get a drink while you've still got the chance。〃
Mark and Ben exchanged another look。 Together they began to force their way through the crush； working toward the bar。
The Amazons had e to the party in a group； and this segregation still persisted； though it was beginning to fray out around the edges。 Ben kept peering toward their pany； trying to catch sight of Ariane。 He could obtain occasional glimpses of red hair and a pale face； and from what little he could see of her she appeared to be all right。 If she wasn't all right next time he looked； he wasn't sure what he could do about it。 Starting a fight would probably be suicidal。 So far Doon's strategy； whatever its ultimate goal； was keeping them all from being killed； or enslaved； or even disarmed。 But。。。
The talkative garrison man had e along； pushing his way with Mark and Ben toward the bar。 He still had his drinking mug in hand； almost full； so he probably had something besides another drink in mind。 Standing beside Ben now； he reached out casually for Dragonslicer's hilt。 Ben knocked the reaching hand away。
〃Neat sword；〃 the man mented； unperturbed。 〃You might as well hand it over now； and save trouble later。 I'm claiming it as spoils。 No use my trying to get that headlight of yours； the priests or the Whitehands will latch onto that for sure。〃
〃They will？〃 Ben couldn't think of anything more helpful to say。
〃Sure。 Whatever weapons prisoners are captured with are forfeit。 After you go through your basic training for the garrison； you can draw new arms from the armory； anything they have available。〃
〃A pile of rusty crap；〃 plained another man nearby； overhearing at least the tail of the conversation。
The first man shrugged。 〃Maybe you can get something better from the next batch that es in to rob and gets captured。〃
〃When'll that be？〃 Ben had now adopted his stupid look。 He figured that he ought to keep on talking； while he waited for a chance to do some thing。 He might even be able to learn something useful。
〃Who knows？ Who can keep track of time down here？ Hey； what's going on topside these days？ Is Blue Temple in a war？ Wish they'd get into a real one； we'd get a lot of recruits down here； I could get a promotion。 A war with the Amazons； maybe。 The bunch we have is getting a little old。〃 He licked his lips and looked in that direction。
Ben； who before today had never heard of Amazons outside of an old story or two； looked that way again also。 Ariane now appeared to have mastered her fears。 She was telling some kind of a story； acpanying the tale with sweeping arm…gestures； and had a small audience of warrior…women around her more or less interested。 Not far from the slowly dissolving group of women sat Willem and Daghur； who did not in the least look as if they thought of themselves as prisoners； recaptured deserters。 They were fraternizing with other men who had to be their old buddies from the garrison。 And Dmitry； laughing fit to burst at something； was sitting in the lap of one of the larger Amazons while she drank from his mug。
Doon and d'Albarno； now showing an indefinable but strong similarity despite the disparity in build and features； were sitting with others at a head table； elevated upon some kind of dais。 Mark saw the first platters of food； meat sliced nearly raw； were being served there now by garrison youngsters； mostly frightenable…looking Amazon girls。 Musicians had now appeared from somewhere； and were at work in their own seats a little below the head table。 Whether they played well or badly； or indeed if their instruments made any sound at all； it was impossible to tell amid the general din。
D'Albarno was now obviously telling Doon a story； and from the mammary shapes that the Field Marshal's large hands were sketching in the air； it was easy to guess what kind of a tale it was。 Mugs and flagons were passing in profusion everywhere now； and with incredible speed。 Kegs and barrels were being appropriated from the Whitehands by main force； and hoisted onto tables to be broached and tapped； as the regular troops impatiently took over the duties of tending bar。 Somewhere in the midst of the melee a woman screamed； loud enough to be heard； but more it seemed in delight than in terror。
A man who had been standing on one end of a table fell off； clutching as he went down for the barrel that he and others had been trying to open。 The container swayed； wobbled； and fell from the table in its turn； hitting the stone floor with the sound of doom。 Liquid and fumes burst forth together in an overpowering flood。 People fell and scrambled； and some went down on hands and knees； lapping at the floor。 The crush shifted； and the man who had reached for Dragonslicer was borne away in the press of bodies。
Ben had not seen Mitspieler since their capture； and had started to take vague hope from this fact。 Now he did see him； seated at the head table； but so inconspicuously slumped among garrison officers that Ben realized his searching eye might well have passed him by before。
Ben fought his way around to the head table； Mark getting slightly separated from him in the process； and approached Mitspieler to try to learn what was going on。 At Ben's approach the wizard raised his head； looking exhausted。 The small； half…finished drink that sat before him appeared to have knocked him out already。
There was no need to worry about being overheard。 Mitspieler had to shout to make himself audible to Ben's ears a matter of centimeters away。
〃I went around； invisible。。。 tried to wake up everybody。。。 thought if we got the whole garrison。。。 escape in the confusion。〃 He glar
