rj.acrownofswords-第71节

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'Vere　to　say　they　could　return。　They　would　blame　her；　and　she　would　meet　her　toh；　but　she　was　remembering　the　boats　she　had　seen　on　the　deck；　stacked　upside　down　atop　one　another。　Boats　without　any　shelter　on　board。　They　would　blame　her；　but　whatever　debt　she　owed　she　was　going　to　repay　a　thousandfold　in　shame　by　the　time　she　was　taken　across　seven　or　eight　miles　of　water　in　an　open　boat。
　　　〃Do　you　have　a　bucket？〃　she　asked　the　Windfinder　faintly。
　　　
　　　
Chapter　14　
（Dice）　
White　Plumes　
　　　
　　　The　Silver　Circuit　was　misnamed　at　first　glance；　but　Ebou　Dar　liked　grand　names；　and　sometimes　it　seemed　that　the　worse　they　fit；　the　better。　The　grimiest　tavern　Mat　had　seen　in　the　city；　smelling　of　very　old　fish；　bore　the　name　of　The　Queen's　Glory　in　Radiance；　while　The　Golden　Crown　of　Heaven　graced　a　dim　hole　across　the　river　in　the　Rahad　with　only　a　blue　door　to　mark　it；　where　black　stains　from　old　knife　fights　splotched　the　grimy　floor。　The　Silver　Circuit　was　for　racing　horses。
　　　Removing　his　hat；　he　fanned　himself　with　the　broad　brim；　and　went　so　far　as　to　loosen　the　black　silk　scarf　he　wore　to　hide　the　scar　around　his　neck。　The　morning　air　shimmered　with　heat　already；　yet　crowds　packed　the　two　long　earthen　banks　that　flanked　the　course　where　the　horses　would　run　up　and　back。　That　was　all　there　was　to　the　Silver　Circuit。　The　murmur　of　voices　almost　drowned　out　the　cries　of　the　gulls　overhead。　There　was　no　charge　to　watch；　so　saltworkers　in　the　white　vest　of　their　guild　and　gaunt…faced　farmers　who　had　fled　from　the　Dragonsworn　inland　rubbed　shoulders　with　ragged　Taraboners　wearing　transparent　veils　across　their　thick　mustaches；　weavers　in　vests　with　vertical　stripes；　printers　in　horizontal　stripes　and　dyers　with　hands　stained　to　the　elbow。　The　unrelieved　black　of　Amadician　countrymen；　buttoned　to　the　neck　though　the　wearers　seemed　about　to　sweat　to　death；　stood　alongside　Murandian　village　dresses　with　long　colorful　aprons　so　narrow　they　must　be　only　for　show；　and　even　a　handful　of　copper…skinned　Domani；　the　men　in　short　coats　if　they　wore　one；　the　women　in　wool　or　linen　so　thin　it　clung　like　silk。　There　were　apprentices；　and　laborers　from　the　docks　and　warehouses；　tanners　who　had　a　small　space　around　them　in　the　crowd　because　of　the　smell　of　their　work；　and　filthy…faced　street　children　watched　closely　because　they　would　steal　whatever　they　could　lay　hand　to。　There　was　little　silver　among　the　working　people；　though。
　　　All　of　them　were　above　the　thick　hemp　ropes　strung　on　posts。　Below　was　for　those　who　did　have　silver；　and　gold；　the　well…born；　the　well…dressed　and　the　well…to…do。　Smug　menservants　poured　punch　into　silver　cups　for　their　masters；　fluttery　maids　waved　feathered　fans　to　cool　their　mistresses；　and　there　was　even　a　capering　fool　with　white…painted　face　and　jingling　brass　bells　on　his　black…and…white　hat　and　coat。　Haughty　men　in　high…crowned　velvet　hats　strutted　with　slender　swords　on　their　hips；　their　hair　brushing　silk　coats　slung　across　their　shoulders　and　held　by　gold　or　silver　chains　between　the　narrow；　embroidered　lapels。　Some　of　the　women　had　hair　shorter　than　the　men　and　some　longer；　arranged　in　as　many　ways　as　there　were　women；　they　wore　wide　hats　with　plumes　or　sometimes　fine　netting　to　obscure　their　faces；　and　gowns　usually　cut　to　show　bosom　whether　in　the　local　style　or　from　elsewhere。　The　nobles；　beneath　brightly　colored　parasols；　glittered　with　rings　and　earrings；　necklaces　and　bracelets　in　gold　and　ivory　and　fine　gems　as　they　stared　down　their　noses　at　everyone　else。　Well…fed　merchants　and　moneylenders；　with　just　a　touch　of　lace　and　perhaps　one　pin　or　a　ring　bearing　a　fat　polished　stone；　humbly　bowed　or　curtsied　to　their　betters；　who　very　likely　owed　them　vast　sums。　Fortunes　changed　hands　at　the　Silver　Circuit；　and　not　just　in　wagers。　It　was　said　lives　and　honor　changed　hands；　too；　below　the　ropes。
　　　Replacing　his　hat；　Mat　raised　his　hand；　and　one　of　the　bookers　came　…　a　hatchet…faced　woman；　with　a　nose　like　an　awl　…　spreading　bony　hands　as　she　bowed；　murmuring　the　ritual　〃As　my　Lord　wishes　to　wager；　so　shall　I　write　truly。〃　The　Ebou　Dari　accent　managed　to　be　soft　despite　clipping　the　ends　off　some　words。　〃The　book　is　open。〃　Like　the　saying；　the　open　book　embroidered　on　the　breast　of　her　red　vest　came　from　a　time　long　past；　when　the　wagers　were　written　into　a　book；　but　he　suspected　he　was　the　only　one　there　who　knew　that。　He　remembered　many　things　he　had　never　seen；　from　times　long　gone　to　dust。
　　　With　a　quick　glance　at　the　odds　for　the　morning's　fifth　race；　chalked　on　the　slate　the　poleman　held　up　behind　the　red…vested　woman；　he　nodded。　Wind　was　only　the　third　favorite；　despite　his　victories。　He　turned　to　his　panion。　〃Put　it　all　on　Wind；　Nalesean。〃
　　　The　Tairen　hesitated；　fingering　the　point　of　his　oiled　black　beard。　Sweat　glistened　on　his　face；　yet　he　kept　his　coat　with　its　fat；　blue…striped　sleeves　fastened　to　the　top　and　wore　a　square　cap　of　blue　velvet　that　did　nothing　to　keep　the　sun　off。　〃All　of　it；　Mat？〃　He　spoke　softly；　trying　to　keep　the　woman　from　hearing。　The　odds　could　change　any　time　until　you　actually　offered　your　wager。　〃Burn　my　soul；　but　that　little　piebald　looks　fast；　and　so　does　that　pale　dun　gelding　with　the　silvery　mane。〃　They　were　the　favorites　today；　new　to　the　city　and　like　all　things　new；　of　great　expectation。
　　　Mat　did　not　bother　to　glance　toward　the　ten　horses　entered　in　the　next　race　that　were　parading　at　one　end　of　the　course。　He　had　already　taken　a　good　look　while　putting　Olver　up　on　Wind。　〃All　of　it。　Some　idiot　clubbed　the　piebald's　tail；　he's　already　half　mad　from　the　flies。　The　dun　is　showy；　but　he　has　a　bad　angle　to　his　fetlocks。　He　may　have　won　some　in　the　country；　but　he'll　finish　last　today。〃　Horses　were　one　thing　he　knew　on　his　own；　his　father　had　taught　him；　and　Abell　Cauthon　had　a　sharp　eye　for　horseflesh。
　　　〃He　looks　more　than　showy　to　me；〃　Nalesean　grumbled；　but　he　was　not　arguing　any　more。
　　　The　booker　blinked　as　Nalesean；　sighing；　pulled　purse　after　fat　purse　from　his　bulging　coat　pockets。　At　one　point　she　opened　her　mouth　to　protest；　but　the　Illustrious　and　Honored　Guild　of　Bookers　always　claimed　it　would　take　any　wager　in　any　amount。　They　even　wagered　with　shipowners　and　merchants　as　to　whether　a　ship　would　sink　or　prices　change；　rather；　the　guild　itself　did；　not　individual　bookers。　The　gold　went　into　one　of　her　iron…strapped　chests；　each　carried　by　a　pair　of　fellows　with　arms　as　thick　as　Mat's　legs。　Her　guards；　hard…eyed　and　bent…nosed　in　leather　vests　that　showed　arms　still　thicker；　held　long　brass…bound　cudgels。　Another　of　her　men　handed　her　a　white　token　bearing　a　detailed　blue　fish　…　every　booker　had　a　different　sigil　…　and　she　wrote　the　wager；　the　name　of　the　horse　and　a　symbol　indicating　the　race　on　the　back　with　a　fine　brush　that　she　took　from　a　lacquered　box　held　by　a　pretty　girl。　Slim；　with　big　dark　eyes；　the　girl　directed　a　slow　smile　at　Mat。　The　hatchet…faced　woman　certainly　did　not　smile。　Bowing　again；　she　slapped　the　girl　casually　and　walked　off　whispering　to　her　pole…man；　who　hastily　wiped　his　slate　with　a　cloth。　When　he　held　it　up　again；　Wind　was　listed　at　the　shortest　odds。　Rubbing　her　cheek　surreptitiously；　the　girl　scowled　back　at　Mat　as　though　the　slap　had　been　his　fault。
　　　〃I　hope　your　luck　is　in；〃　Nalesean　said；　holding　the　token　carefully　for　the　ink　to　dry。　Bookers　could　be　touchy　about　paying　on　a。　token　with　smeared　ink；　and　no　one　was　touchier　than　an　Ebou　Dari。　〃I　know　you　don't　lose　often；　but　I've　seen　it　happen；　burn　me　but　I　have。　There's　a　lass　I　mean　to　step　out　with　at　the　dancing　tonight。　Just　a　seamstress。。。　〃　He　was　a　lord；　though　not　a　bad　fellow　really；　and　such　things　seemed　important　to　him。　〃。。。　but　pretty　enough　to　dry　your　mouth。　She　likes　trinkets。　Golden　trinkets。　She　likes　fireworks；　too　…　I　hear　some　Illuminators　are　setting　up　for　tonight；　you'll　be　interested　in　that　…　but　it's　trinkets　make　her　smile。　She　won't　be　friendly　if　I　cannot　afford　to　make　her　smile；　Mat。〃
　　　〃You'll　make　her　smile；〃　Mat　said　absently。　The　horses　were　still　walking　in　a　circle　above　the　starting　poles。　Olver　sat　proudly　on　Wind's　back；　broad　mouth　grinning　to　split　his　more…than…plain　face　from　jug…ear　to　jug…ear。　In　Ebou　Dari　races；　all　the　riders　were　boys；　a　few　miles　inland；　they　used　girls。　Olver　was　the　smallest　here　today；　the　lightest；　not　that　the　leggy　gray　gelding　needed　the　advantage。　〃You'll　make　her　laugh　till　she　can't　stand　up。〃　Nalesean　gave　him　a　frown　he　barely　noticed。　The　man　should　know　gold　was　one　thing　Mat　never　had　to　worry　about。　He　might　not　always　win；　but　close　enough。　His　luck　had　nothing　to　do　with　whether　Wind　won　anyway。　Of　that　he　was　sure。
　　　Gold　did　not　concern　him；　but　Olver　did。　There　was　no　rule　against　the　boys　using　their　switches　on　each　other　instead　of　their　mounts。　In　every　race　so　far；　Wind　had　broken　to　the　lead　and　stayed　there；　but　if　Olver　took　any　hurt；　even　just　a　bruise；　Mat　would　never　hear　the　end。　Not　from　Mistress　Anan；　his　innkeeper；　not　from　Nynaeve　or　Elayne；　not　from　Aviendha　or　Birgitte。　The　onetime　Maiden　of　the　Spear　and　the　peculiar　woman　Elayne　had　taken　as　a　Warder　were　the　last　he　would　have　expected　to