rh.theassassinsapprentice-第21节

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could　not　obey　him。　Which　would　be　worse：　if　he　did　not　summon　me；　or　if　he　opened　the　door　for　me　and　I　dared　not　go？　I　tormented　myself　from　rock　to　stone；　and　in　the　gray　creeping　of　morning　I　had　the　answer。　He　hadn't　even　bothered　to　call　for　me。
　　　　　　　Even　now；　I　do　not　like　to　recall　the　next　few　days。　I　hunched　through　them；　so　sick　at　heart　that　I　could　not　properly　eat　or　rest。　I　could　not　focus　my　mind　on　any　task　and　took　the　rebukes　that　my　teachers　gave　me　with　bleak　acceptance。　I　acquired　a　headache　that　never　ceased；　and　my　stomach　stayed　so　clenched　on　itself　that　food　held　no　interest　for　me。　The　very　thought　of　eating　made　me　weary。　Burrich　put　up　with　it　for　two　days　before　he　cornered　me　and　forced　down　me　both　a　worming　draft　and　a　blood　tonic。　The　bination　made　me　vomit　up　what　little　I'd　eaten　that　day。　He　made　me　wash　out　my　mouth　with　plum　wine　afterward；　and　to　this　day　I　cannot　drink　plum　wine　without　gagging。　Then；　to　my　weary　amazement；　he　dragged　me　up　the　stairs　to　his　loft　and　gruffly　ordered　me　to　rest　there　for　the　day。　When　evening　came；　he　chivied　me　up　to　the　keep；　and　under　his　watchful　eye　I　was　forced　to　consume　a　watery　bowl　of　soup　and　a　hunk　of　bread。　He　would　have　taken　me　back　to　his　loft　again　had　I　not　insisted　that　I　wanted　my　own　bed。　In　reality；　I　had　to　be　in　my　room。　I　had　to　know　whether　Chade　at　least　tried　to　call　me；　whether　I　could　go　or　not。　Through　another　sleepness　night；　I　stared　in　blackness　at　a　darker　corner　of　my　room。
　　　　　　　But　he　didn't　summon　me。
　　　　　　　Morning　grayed　my　window。　I　rolled　over　and　kept　to　my　bed。　The　depth　of　bleakness　that　settled　over　me　was　too　solid　for　me　to　fight。　All　of　my　possible　choices　led　to　gray　ends。　I　could　not　face　the　futility　of　getting　out　of　bed。　A　headachy　sort　of　near　sleep　claimed　me。　Any　sound　seemed　too　loud；　and　I　was　either　too　hot　or　too　cold　no　matter　how　I　fussed　my　covers。　I　closed　my　eyes；　but　even　my　dreams　were　bright　and　annoying。　Arguing　voices；　as　loud　as　if　they　were　in　the　bed　with　me；　and　all　the　more　frustrating　because　it　sounded　like　one　man　arguing　with　himself　and　taking　both　sides。　〃Break　him　like　you　broke　the　other　one！〃　he'd　mutter　angrily。　〃You　and　your　stupid　tests！〃　and　then：　〃Can't　be　too　careful。　Can't　put　your　trust　in　just　anyone。　Blood　will　tell。　Test　his　mettle；　that's　all。〃　〃Metal！　You　want　a　brainless　blade；　go　hammer　it　out　yourself。　Beat　it　flat。〃　And　more　quietly：　〃I've　got　no　heart　for　this。　I'll　not　be　used　again。　If　you　wanted　to　test　my　temper；　you've　done　it。〃　Then：　〃Don't　talk　to　me　about　blood　and　family。　Remember　who　I　am　to　you！　It　isn't　his　loyalty　he's　worrying　about；　or　mine。〃
　　　　　　　The　angry　voices　broke　up；　merged；　became　another　argument；　this　one　shriller。　I　cracked　open　my　eyelids。　My　chamber　had　bee　the　scene　of　a　brief　battle。　I　woke　to　a　spirited　argument　between　Burrich　and　Mistress　Hasty　as　to　whose　jurisdiction　I　fell　under。　She　had　a　wicker　basket；　from　which　protruded　the　necks　of　several　bottles。　The　scents　of　mustard　in　a　plaster　and　chamomile　wafted　over　me　so　strongly　that　I　wanted　to　retch。　Burrich　stood　stoically　between　her　and　my　bed。　His　arms　were　crossed　on　his　chest　and　Vixen　sat　at　his　feet。　Mistress　Hasty's　words　rattled　in　my　head　like　pebbles。　〃In　the　keep〃；　〃those　clean　linens〃；　〃know　about　boys〃；　〃that　smelly　dog。〃　I　don't　recall　that　Burrich　said　a　word。　He　just　stood　there　so　solidly　that　I　could　feel　him　with　my　eyes　closed。
　　　　　　　Later　he　was　gone；　but　Vixen　was　on　the　bed；　not　at　my　feet；　but　beside　me；　panting　heavily　but　refusing　to　abandon　me　for　the　cooler　floor。　I　opened　my　eyes　again；　still　later；　to　early　twilight。　Burrich　had　tugged　free　my　pillow；　shook　it　a　bit；　and　was　awkwardly　stuffing　it　back　under　my　head；　cool　side　up。　He　then　sat　down　heavily　on　the　bed。
　　　　　　　He　cleared　his　throat。　〃Fitz；　there's　nothing　the　matter　with　you　that　I've　ever　seen　before。　At　least；　whatever's　the　matter　with　you　isn't　in　your　guts　or　your　blood。　If　you　were　a　bit　older；　I'd　suspect　you　had　woman　problems。　You　act　like　a　soldier　on　a　three…day　drunk；　but　without　the　wine。　Boy；　what's　the　matter　with　you？〃
　　　　　　　He　looked　down　on　me　with　sincere　worry。　It　was　the　same　look　he　wore　when　he　was　afraid　a　mare　was　going　to　miscarry；　or　when　hunters　brought　back　dogs　that　boars　had　gotten　to。　It　reached　me；　and　without　meaning　to；　I　quested　out　toward　him。　As　always；　the　wall　was　there；　but　Vixen　whined　lightly　and　put　her　muzzle　against　my　cheek。　I　tried　to　express　what　was　inside　me　without　betraying　Chade。　〃I'm　just　so　alone　now；〃　I　heard　myself　say；　and　even　to　me　it　sounded　like　a　feeble　plaint。
　　　　　　　〃Alone？〃　Burrich's　brows　knit。　〃Fitz；　I'm　right　here。　How　can　you　say　you're　alone？〃
　　　　　　　And　there　the　conversation　ended；　with　both　of　us　looking　at　one　another　and　neither　understanding　at　all。　Later　he　brought　me　food；　but　didn't　insist　I　eat　it。　And　he　left　Vixen　with　me　for　the　night。　A　part　of　me　wondered　how　she　would　react　if　the　door　opened；　but　a　larger　part　of　me　knew　I　didn't　have　to　worry。　That　door　would　never　open　again。
　　　　　　　Morning　came　again。　And　Vixen　nosed　at　me　and　whined　to　go　out。　Too　broken　to　care　if　Burrich　caught　me；　I　quested　toward　her。　Hungry　and　thirsty　and　her　bladder　was　about　to　burst。　And　her　disfort　was　suddenly　my　own。　I　dragged　on　a　tunic　and　took　her　down　the　stairs　and　outside；　and　then　back　to　the　kitchen　to　eat。　Cook　was　more　pleased　to　see　me　than　I　had　imagined　anyone　could　be。　Vixen　was　given　a　generous　bowl　of　last　night's　stew；　while　Cook　insisted　on　fixing　me　six　rashers　of　thick…cut　bacon　on　the　warm　crust　of　the　day's　first　baking　of　bread。　Vixen's　keen　nose　and　sharp　appetite　sparked　my　own　senses；　and　I　found　myself　eating；　not　with　my　normal　appetite　but　with　a　young　creature's　sensory　appreciation　for　food。
　　　　　　　From　there　she　led　me　to　the　stables；　and　though　I　pulled　my　mind　back　from　her　before　we　went　inside；　I　felt　somewhat　rejuvenated　from　the　contact。　Burrich　straightened　up　from　some　task　as　I　came　in；　looked　me　over；　glanced　at　Vixen；　grunted　wryly　to　himself；　and　then　handed　me　a　suckle　bottle　and　wick。　〃There　isn't　much　in　a　man's　head；〃　he　told　me；　〃that　can't　be　cured　by　working　and　taking　care　of　something　else。　The　rat　dog　whelped　a　few　days　ago；　and　there's　one　pup　too　weak　to　pete　with　the　others。　See　if　you　can　keep　him　alive　today。〃
　　　　　　　It　was　an　ugly　little　pup；　pink　skin　showing　through　his　brindle　fur。　His　eyes　were　shut　tight　still；　and　the　extra　skin　he'd　use　up　as　he　grew　was　piled　atop　his　muzzle。　His　skinny　little　tail　looked　just　like　a　rat's；　so　that　I　wondered　his　mother　didn't　worry　her　own　pups　to　death　just　for　the　resemblance's　sake。　He　was　weak　and　passive；　but　I　bothered　him　with　the　warm　milk　and　wicking　until　he　sucked　a　little；　and　got　enough　all　over　him　that　his　mother　was　inspired　to　lick　and　nuzzle　him。　I　took　one　of　his　stronger　sisters　off　her　teat　and　plugged　him　into　her　place。　Her　little　belly　was　round　and　full　anyway；　she　had　only　been　sucking　for　the　sake　of　obstinacy。　She　was　going　to　be　white　with　a　black　spot　over　one　eye。　She　caught　my　little　finger　and　suckled　at　it；　and　already　I　could　feel　the　immense　strength　those　jaws　would　someday　hold。　Burrich　had　told　me　stories　about　rat　dogs　that　would　latch　onto　a　bull's　nose　and　hang　there　no　matter　what　the　bull　did。　He　had　no　use　for　men　that　would　teach　a　dog　to　do　so；　but　could　not　contain　his　respect　for　the　courage　of　a　dog　that　would　take　on　a　bull。　Our　rat　dogs　were　kept　for　ratting　and　taken　on　regular　patrols　of　the　corncribs　and　grain　barns。
　　　　　　　I　spent　the　whole　morning　there　and　left　at　noon　with　the　gratification　of　seeing　the　pup's　small　belly　round　and　tight　with　milk。　The　afternoon　was　spent　mucking　stalls。　Burrich　kept　me　at　it；　adding　another　chore　as　soon　as　I　pleted　one；　with　no　time　for　me　to　do　anything　but　work。　He　didn't　talk　with　me　or　ask　me　questions；　but　he　always　seemed　to　be　working　but　a　dozen　paces　away。　It　was　as　if　he　had　taken　my　plaint　about　being　alone　quite　literally　and　was　resolved　to　be　where　I　could　see　him。　I　wound　up　my　day　back　with　my　puppy；　who　was　substantially　stronger　than　he　had　been　that　morning。　I　cradled　him　against　my　chest　and　he　crept　up　under　my　chin；　his　blunt　little　muzzle　questing　there　for　milk。　It　tickled。　I　pulled　him　down　and　looked　at　him。　He　was　going　to　have　a　pink　nose。　Men　said　the　rat　dogs　with　the　pink　noses　were　the　most　savage　ones　when　they　fought。　But　his　little　mind　now　was　only　a　muzzy　warmth　of　security　and　milk　want　and　affection　for　my　smell。　I　wrapped　him　in　my　protection　of　him；　praised　him　for　his　new　strength。　He　wiggled　in　my　fingers。　And　Burrich　leaned　over　the　side　of　the　stall　and　rapped　me　on　the　head　with　his　knuckles；　bringing　twin　yelps　from　the　pup　and　me。
　　　　　　　〃Enough　of　that；〃　he　warned　me　sternly。　〃That's　not　a　thing　for　a　man　to　do。　And　it　won't　solve　whatever　is　chewing　on　your　soul。　Give　the　pup　back　to　his　mother；　now。〃
　　　　　　　So　I　did；　but　reluctantly；　and　not　at　all　sure　that　Burrich　was　right　that　bonding　with　a　puppy　wouldn't　solve　anything。　I　longed　for　his　warm　little　world　of　straw　and　siblings　and　milk　and　mother。　At　that　moment　I　could　imagine　no　better　one