fs.thesecondbookofswords-第41节

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　walls　closed　in　even　more　drastically；　and　at　the　same　time　the　floor　of　the　cave　tilted　into　a　downward　slope。　And　suddenly　they　were　no　longer　in　the　vast　and　seemingly　unbounded　room　of　the　garrison…sealing；　but　had　been　funneled　into　a　passage　only　three　or　four　meters　wide。　Wall…flames　in　the　cave　behind　the　travelers　still　cast　enough　light　here　to　let　them　see　their　way。　Now　the　ceiling　was　only　a　few　meters　overhead；　curving　sharply　down　over　the　high　rock　shelves　that　topped　the　walls　on　either　side。
　　　Doon　led　them　quickly　on。　The　light　from　behind　them　was　fading　rapidly　with　distance；　and　soon　they　would　need　their　headlamps。
　　　〃We've　done　it；〃　Ben　said　aloud。　And　just　as　if　the　words　had　been　a　signal；　rock　weighted　nets　of　rope　and　cord；　cast　by　concealed　hands；　sprang　out　simultaneously　from　the　high　shelves　on　both　sides　of　the　passage。　One　of　the　falling　rocks　struck　Ben　on　the　shoulder　with　almost　numbing　force。　He　had　just　time　enough　to　reach　for　Dragonslicer　before　his　arms　were　tangled　pletely　in　the　net；　but　not　time　enough　to　draw　clear　of　the　scabbard。　More　cordage　tripped　him；　and　he　fell。
　　　Someone　else's　headlamp　shot　forth　a　beam；　perhaps　in　an　attempt　to　dazzle　the　attackers。　It　might　have　been　a　good　idea　before　the　net　was　thrown；　but　now　it　was　too　late。　As　Ben　thrashed　and　rolled　on　the　rock　floor；　struggling　to　get　free；　he　had　a　good　look　at　Ariane；　and　a　look　at　Mark。　They　were　both　floundering　in　the　grip　of　some　of　the　attacking　Whitehands；　a　number　of　whom　now　came　leaping　down　like　clumsy　monkeys　from　the　high　shelves　where　they　had　set　their　ambush。　Clumsy；　perhaps；　but　also　strong；　and　not　nearly　as　clumsy　now　as　were　their　victims；　tangled　in　the　clever　weaving　of　the　cords。
　　　Four　more　Whitehands；　large　for　their　kind；　now　came　trotting　up　out　of　the　passageway　ahead。　They　wore；　strapped　to　their　heads；　little　golden　glow…lamps　of　a　kind　that　Ben　had　never　seen　before；　and　they　bore　a　litter　on　their　shoulders。　It　was　more　like　a　stretcher；　really；　a　mean；　penurious…looking　equipage。
　　　Ben　didn't　wait　to　see　what　this　arrival　meant；　but　continued　to　roll　from　side　to　side；　in　a　furious　but　so　far　futile　effort　to　bring　his　full　strength　to　bear　on　any　of　the　strands　of　the　net　that　wrapped　him　round　and　bound　him；　down。　If　he　just　seized　one　of　the　thin　cords　and　pulled　as　hard　as　he　could；　he'd　cut　his　hands　to　the　bone　and　disable　himself　from　further　effort。　Maybe　he　could　get　hold　of　one　of　the　thicker　ropes　properly。。。
　　　The　litter　was　set　down；　a　few　meters　away；　and　a　Whitehands；　obviously　ancient；　got　himself　out　of　it　with　some　help；　and　then　came　to　look　at　Ben　and　the　other　captives　at　close　range。　He　wore　a　uniform　all　of　gold；　the　like　of　which　Ben　had　never　seen　before。
　　　〃Careful；　my　Founder！　Not　too　close。　This　one　still　thrashes。〃
　　　〃You　reported　that　they　were　already　your　prisoners；　ha　hum？〃　The　voice　of　the　ancient　one　matched　his　ghastly　appearance。　He　was　so　pale　that　the　others　with　him　looked　almost　tanned　by　parison。
　　　〃Yes；　First　Chairman；　they　are。〃　This　was　another　subordinate；　who　glanced　jealously　at　the　first。
　　　〃Ha；　hum。　I　think　I　shall　be　First　High　Priest　today。　Yes；　some　function　in　that　capacity　may　be　necessary。〃　He　was　bent；　smaller　than　the　other　Whitehands　and　more　wizened。　Ben　was　being　distracted；　despite　himself；　from　his　hopeless　efforts　to　burst　free。
　　　〃Yes；〃　the　old　man　repeated。　He　was　obviously　talking　more　to　himself　than　to　his　subordinates　…　though　they　were　certainly　expected　not　to　miss　anything。　〃Yes；　that　fool　Hyrcanus　has　never　run　things　properly　topside。〃　And　the　old　man　…　he　was　of　course　an　altered　human　like　the　others　…　with　his　grotesquely　large　and　withered　white　hands　hanging　all　but　useless　at　his　sides；　kicked　at　one　of　the　fallen　prisoners。　Too　feebly；　Ben　was　sure；　to　hurt。　〃Well；　down　here；　thank　Croesus；　the　man　in　charge　is　still　Benambra。　〃　And　one　of　the　impotent　huge　hands　came　up　with　a　gesture　to　flap　at　its　owner's　chest。
　　　Now　the　Founder；　First　Chairman；　First　High　Priest；　bent　closely　over　another　captive。　〃Ah；　a　fine　weapon　here；　a　treasure　in　itself：〃　A　slow　straightening　of　the　curved　old　spine。　〃And　our　famous　Field　Marshal　I　suppose　is　drunk　as　usual　after　one　of　these　affairs；　making　ready　his　report　of　a　dazzling　victory。　I'm　going　to　have　to　replace　him；　I　think；　after　this　debacle。　Are　you　sure　we've　caught　them　all？
　　　〃And　we　must　send　word　to　Hyrcanus　to　change　the　passwords　everywhere　again。。。　I　wonder　if　they　have　any　conception　of　duty　left　at　all；　up　there。　Prepare　these　captives　for　induction　processing　and　then　basic　training。　Let　me　see　the　inventory　of　their　possessions　when　you　have　it。〃
　　　There　was　more；　but　Ben　heard　almost　none　of　it。　He　heard　Doon　shouting　something；　and　then　another　Whitehands；　capering　before　Ben　with　a　wizard's　gestures；　bent　down　to　blow　a　dusty　powder　into　his　face。　With　his　first　sneeze；　the　world　was　gone。
　　　He　was　being　awakened；　for　what　must　be　the　first　watch　of　the　morning。　He　was　going　to　have　to　drag　his　body　out　of　this　unfortable　but　oh…so…wele　bed。。。
　　　No；　it　wasn't　first　watch　that　he　had　to　get　up　for。　He　had　just　signed　up　for　Blue　Temple　service；　and　he　was　still　in　basic　training；　and　he　faced　another　day　of　that。。。　at　least　his　shoulder　didn't　hurt　him　so　much　any　more；　time　had　healed　it。　Ben　moaned　and　grumbled　to　himself。　Today　he'd　try　to　get　another　letter　off　to　Barbara；　if　there　was　a　caravan　going　that　way；　and　he　hoped　that　this　time　she　might　answer。。。
　　　〃Still　sleeping；　hah？〃　Thud。　The　sergeant　had　e　back。
　　　Kicked　off　his　wooden　barracks…bed；　Ben　managed　to　extend　one　leg　and　one　arm　toward　the　stone　floor；　enough　to　partially　break　his　fall。　Picking　himself　up；　feeling　bruised；　he　noticed　an　odd　thing：　his　bed　was　a　different　kind　from　the　one　he　seemed　to　remember　rolling　into　the　night　before。　Odd。　And；　wasn't　the　sun　up　yet　at　all？
　　　Then；　with　a　jolt　like　that　of　falling　into　nightmare；　much　became　clear。　Ben　realized　that　he　was　still　in　the　cave。　The　horror　and　fear　of　the　recapture　returned。　And　he　understood　dimly　that　this　was　far　from　being　the　first　time　that　he'd　been　awakened　in　this　way；　in　this　dark　place。　But　whatever　had　happened　to　him　after　those　earlier　awakenings　had　already　been　lost　again　in　the　mists　of　dark　magic　that　fogged　and　clogged　the　workings　of　his　memory。
　　　Get　dressed。。。　no；　he　was　dressed　already。　It　was　his　own　clothing；　but　now　all　sadly　soiled　and　worn　and　tattered。　Too　much　damage；　he　thought；　to　be　accounted　for　even　by　all　the　things　that　he　could　remember　happening　to　him　since　that　unlucky　hour　when　he　had　followed　Doon　into　the　upper　cave　。。。。
　　　Doon；　yes。　And　Mark；　and　Ariane。　And　all　the　others。　Where　were　they；　what　had　happened　to　them？　The　other　figures　stumbling　and　cursing　around　Ben　in　the　darkness　now　were　all　strangers　to　him。　His　fellow　trainees；　or　fellow　prisoners；　but　he　remembered　none　of　them　at　all。　None　of　them　spoke　to　each　other　as　they　formed　a　crude　queue　and　groped　their　way　through　the　darkness；　on　their　way　to。。。　all　that　Ben　could　remember；　and　that　dimly；　was　that　to　please　the　sergeant　they　were　expected　to　go　somewhere　and　line　up　in　a　formation。
　　　Dragonslicer　was　of　course　no　longer　at　Ben's　side。　Sheath　and　belt　were　gone　too；　as　were　his　headlamp；　and　his　pack；　and　the　simple　little　dagger　that　had　been　his　only　other　weapon。
　　　The　dead　weights　of　training　and　of　fear　were　back　now；　hanging　on　him　as　a　pelling　burden。　Ben　stumbled　into　the　formation　with　the　group　of　unfamiliar　men。　Somehow　he　knew　which　place　in　which　line　was　his。　In　a　flash　of　something　like　clarity　he　realized　that　all　of　these　could　hardly　be　newly　taken　prisoners。　Perhaps　this　was　some　kind　of　a　punishment　pany。。。　but　it　hardly　mattered。
　　　Their　drill…ground　was　quite　small；　a　space　lighted　by　torches　at　its　four　corners　and　cleared　of　barracks　…　beds　and　other　obstacles。　Here　in　their　small　formation　they　practiced　marching；　and　drilled　with　clumsy　wooden　spears。
　　　The　sergeant　wore　no　badge　of　rank；　but　there　was　no　doubt　of　who　he　was。　He　acted　like　a　sergeant；　striding　through　the　ranks；　barking　mands；　inspiring　terror；　yelling　and　kicking　at　anyone　who　displeased　him。　The　drill　went　on　unendingly。　It　had　always　been　going　on；　thought　Ben；　and　it　always　would　be；　and　even　that　last　sleep　from　which　he　could　remember　being　awakened　was　really　only　one　more　illusion　born　of　magic。　Nowhere　could　Ben　find　the　foothold　of　hope　that　he　would　have　to　have　to　be　able　to　rebel　against　the　sergeant's　orders。
　　　He　didn't　know　where　he　was；　except　that　he　was　still　inside　the　cave。　Which　way　was　out？　And　where　were　the　other　people　who　had　been　captured　with　him？　Were　Ariane；　Mark；　Doon　all　dead？　He　tried　once　to　ask　a　question　of　the　sergeant；　and　got　a　curse　and　a　kick　for　answer。
　　　The　drilling　and　the　marching　went　on　and　on。　There　was　a　mindlessness　about　it　that　precluded　even　sadism　as　a　motive。　It　was；　like　most　basic　training；　utterly　pointless　except　that　it　instilled　the　habit　of　instant　obedience　to　mand；　and　it　filled　the　time。
　　　At　last　there　ca