rj.acrownofswords-第95节

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s　that　drifted　from　inns　and　palaces；　dancing　their　way　from　one　set　of　festivities　to　another；　but　for　the　most　part　the　streets　lay　empty。　A　distant　dog　barked；　and　another；　closer；　answered　furiously　until　it　suddenly　yelped　and　fell　silent。
　　　Balanced　on　his　toes；　Mat　listened；　eyes　searching　the　moonshadows。　Only　a　cat　moved；　slinking　along　the　street。　The　slap　of　running　bare　feet　faded。　The　owner　of　one　pair　should　be　staggering；　and　the　other　bleeding。　As　he　bent；　his　foot　kicked　a　club　as　long　as　his　arm　on　the　paving　stones；　heavy　brass　studs　shone　in　the　moonlight。　That　would　have　broken　his　skull　for　sure。　Shaking　his　head；　he　wiped　his　knife　on　the　ragged　coat　worn　by　the　man　at　his　feet。　Open　eyes　stared　at　the　night　sky　from　a　dirty；　creased　face。　A　beggar；　by　the　look　and　smell　of　him。　Mat　had　not　heard　of　beggars　attacking　people；　but　maybe　times　were　harder　than　he　thought。　A　large　jute　sack　lay　near　one　outstretched　hand。　The　fellows　certainly　had　been　optimistic　about　what　they　would　find　in　his　pockets。　The　thing　could　have　covered　him　from　head　to　knees。
　　　To　the　north；　above　the　city；　light　suddenly　burst　in　the　sky　with　a　hollow　boom　as　glittering　streaks　of　green　expanded　in　a　ball；　and　then　another　eruption　showered　red　sparkles　through　die　first；　then　a　blue；　and　a　yellow。　Illuminators'　nightflowers；　not　as　spectacular　as　they　would　have　been　in　a　moonless；　cloudy　sky；　yet　still　they　took　his　breath。　He　could　watch　fireworks　till　he　fell　over　from　hunger。　Nalesean　had　spoken　of　an　Illuminator　…　Light；　was　that　only　this　morning？　…　but　no　more　nightflowers　came。　When　Illuminators　made　the　sky　bloom；　as　they　said；　they　planted　more　than　four　flowers。　Plainly　someone　with　coin　had　made　a　purchase　for　Swovan　Night。　He　wished　he　knew　who。　An　Illuminator　who　would　sell　nightflowers　would　sell　more　than　that。
　　　Slipping　the　knife　back　up　his　sleeve；　he　gathered　his　hat　from　the　pavement　and　walked　away　hurriedly；　his　boots　echoing；　a　sound　empty　as　the　street。　Most　shuttered　windows　here　showed　not　a　glimmer　of　light。　A　better　place　for　murder　probably　could　not　be　found　in　the　city。　The　entire　encounter　with　the　three　beggars　had　lasted　only　a　minute　or　two　and　had　been　seen　by　no　one。　In　this　city；　you　could　find　three　or　four　fights　in　a　day　if　you　were　not　careful；　but　the　odds　of　facing　two　sets　of　robbers　in　one　day　seemed　about　as　great　as　the　odds　of　the　Civil　Guard　refusing　a　bribe。　What　was　happening　to　his　luck？　If　only　those　bloody　dice　would　stop　rolling　in　his　head。　He　did　not　run；　but　he　did　not　dawdle　either；　one　hand　on　a　hilt　beneath　his　coat　and　an　eye　open　for　anyone　moving　in　the　shadows。　He　saw　nothing　but　a　few　clumps　of　people　cavorting　along　the　street；　though。
　　　In　the　mon　room　of　The　Wandering　Woman；　the　tables　had　been　cleared　away　except　for　a　few　near　the　walls。　The　flutists　and　the　drummer　made　shrill　music　for　four　laughing　lines　of　people　doing　what　appeared　to　be　half　pattern…dance　and　half　jig。　Watching；　he　copied　a　step。　Outland　merchants　in　fine　woolens　leaped　right　along　with　locals　in　brocaded　silk　vests　or　those　useless　coats　slung　on　their　shoulders。　He　marked　out　two　of　the　merchants　for　the　way　they　moved；　one　slender　and　one　not；　yet　both　with　a　light　grace；　and　several　local　women　wearing　their　best；　the　deep　necklines　outlined　by　a　little　lace　or　a　great　deal　of　embroidery；　but　none　in　silk。　Not　that　he　would　refuse　to　dance　with　a　woman　in　silk；　of　course　…　he　had　never　turned　down　a　dance　with　any　woman　of　any　age　or　station　…　but　the　rich　were　in　the　palaces　tonight；　or　the　homes　of　the　wealthier　merchants　and　moneylenders。　Those　folk　near　the　walls；　catching　their　breath　for　the　next　dance；　had　their　faces　buried　in　mugs　often　as　not；　or　were　snatching　fresh　mugs　from　trays　carried　by　scurrying　serving　women。　Mistress　Anan　likely　would　sell　as　much　wine　tonight　as　in　an　ordinary　week。　Ale；　too；　the　local　folk　must　have　no　taste　to　their　tongues。
　　　Trying　another　step　of　the　dance；　he　caught　Caira　as　she　tried　to　hurry　by　with　a　tray；　pitching　his　voice　loud　above　the　music　to　ask　a　few　questions　and　finishing　with　an　order　for　his　dinner；　gilded　fish；　a　tangy　dish　that　Mistress　Anan's　cook　prepared　to　perfection。　A　man　needed　his　strength　to　keep　up　in　the　dance。
　　　Caira　flashed　a　sultry　smile　at　a　fellow　in　a　yellow　vest　who　grabbed　a　mug　from　her　tray　and　dropped　his　coin　on　it；　but　for　once　she　had　no　smile　for　Mat。　in　fact；　she　managed　to　press　her　mouth　to　a　thin　line；　no　small　feat。　〃Your　little　rabbit；　am　I？〃　With　a　telling　sniff；　she　went　on　impatiently。　〃The　boy　is　tucked　into　his　bed；　where　he　should　be；　and　I　don't　know　where　Lord　Nalesean　is；　or　Harnan；　or　Master　Vanin；　or　anybody　else。　And　Cook　said　she　won't　fix　anything　but　soup　and　bread　for　those　as　are　drowning　their　tongues　in　wine。　Though　why　my　Lord　wants　gilded　fish　when　he　has　a　gilded　woman　waiting　in　his　room；　I'm　sure　I　couldn't　say。　If　my　Lord　will　excuse　me；　some　people　need　to　work　for　their　crust。〃　She　swooped　away；　proffering　her　tray　and　smiling　fit　to　split　her　face　at　every　man　in　sight。
　　　Mat　frowned　after　her。　A　gilded　woman？　In　his　room？　The　chest　of　gold　rested　now　in　a　small　hollow　beneath　the　kitchen　floor；　in　front　of　one　of　the　stoves；　but　the　dice　in　his　head　drummed　like　thunder　suddenly。
　　　The　sounds　of　merriment　faded　a　little　as　he　slowly　climbed　the　stairs。　In　front　of　his　door；　he　paused；　listening　to　the　dice。　Two　attempts　to　rob　him　so　far　today。　Twice　his　skull　could　have　been　broken。　He　was　sure　that　Darkfriend　had　not　seen　him；　and　no　one　could　call　her　gilded；　but。。。　He　fingered　a　hilt　under　his　coat；　then　took　his　hand　away　as　a　woman　flared　in　his　thoughts；　a　tall　woman　falling　with　the　hilt　of　a　knife　protruding　between　her　breasts。　His　knife。　Luck　would　just　have　to　be　with　him。　Sighing；　he　pushed　open　the　door。
　　　The　Hunter　that　Elayne　had　made　her　Warder　turned；　hefting　his　unstrung　Two　Rivers　bow；　her　golden　braid　drawn　over　her。　shoulder。　Her　blue　eyes　fastened　on　him　purposefully；　and　her　face　fixed　itself　in　determination。　She　looked　ready　to　drub　him　with　the　bow　if　she　did　not　get　what　she　wanted。
　　　〃If　this　is　about　Olver；〃　he　began；　and　suddenly　a　twist　of　memory　unfolded；　a　mist　thinned　over　one　day；　one　hour　in　his　life。
　　　There　was　no　hope；　with　Seanchan　to　the　west　and　Whitecloaks　to　the　east；　no　hope　and　only　one　chance；　so　he　raised　the　curled　Horn　and　blew；　not　really　knowing　what　to　expect。　The　sound　came　golden　as　the　Horn；　so　sweet　he　did　not　know　whether　to　laugh　or　cry。　It　echoed；　and　the　earth　and　heavens　seemed　to　sing。　While　that　one　pure　note　hung　in　the　air；　a　fog　began　to　rise；　appearing　from　nowhere；　thin　wisps；　thickening；　billowing　higher；　until　all　was　obscured　as　if　clouds　covered　the　land。　And　down　the　clouds　they　rode；　as　though　down　a　mountainside；　the　dead　heroes　of　legend；　bound　to　be　called　back　by　the　Horn　of　Valere。　Artur　Hawkwing　himself　led；　tall　and　hook…nosed；　and　behind　came　the　rest；　little　more　than　a　hundred。　So　few；　but　all　those　the　Wheel　would　spin　out　again　and　again　to　guide　the　Pattern；　to　make　legend　and　myth。　Mikel　of　the　Pure　Heart；　and　Shivan　the　Hunter　behind　his　black　mask。　He　was　said　to　herald　the　end　of　Ages；　the　destruction　of　what　had　been　and　the　birth　of　what　was　to　be；　he　and　his　sister　Calian；　called　the　Chooser；　who　rode　red…masked　at　his　side。　Amaresu；　with　the　Sword　of　the　Sun　glowing　in　her　hands；　and　Paedrig；　the　golden…tongued　peacemaker；　and　there；　carrying　the　silver　bow　with　which　she　never　missed。。。
　　　He　pushed　the　door　shut　trying　to　lean　against　it。　He　felt　dizzy；　dazed。　〃You　are　she。　Birgitte；　for　true。　Burn　my　bones　to　ash；　it's　impossible。　How？　How？〃
　　　The　woman　of　legend　gave　a　resigned　sigh　and　propped　his　bow　back　in　the　corner　next　to　his　spear。　〃I　was　ripped　out　untimely；　Hornsounder；　cast　out　by　Moghedien　to　die　and　saved　by　Elayne's　bonding。〃　She　spoke　slowly；　studying　him　as　if　to　be　sure　he　understood。　〃I　feared　you　might　remember　who　I　used　to　be。〃
　　　Still　feeling　hit　between　the　eyes；　he　flung　himself　scowling　into　the　armchair　beside　his　table。　Who　she　used　to　be；　indeed。　Fists　on　hips；　she　confronted　him　challengingly；　no　whit　different　from　the　Birgitte　he　had　seen　ride　out　of　the　sky。　Even　her　clothes　were　the　same；　though　this　short　coat　was　red　and　the　wide　trousers　yellow。　〃Elayne　and　Nynaeve　know　and　kept　it　from　me；　true？　I　weary　of　secrets；　Birgitte；　and　they　harbor　secrets　as　a　grain　barn　harbors　rats。　They've　bee　Aes　Sedai；　eyes　and　hearts。　Even　Nynaeve　is　twice　a　stranger；　now。〃
　　　〃You　have　your　own　secrets。〃　Folding　her　arms　under　her　breasts；　she　sat　on　the　foot　of　his　bed。　The　way　she　looked　at　him；　you　would　have　thought　he　was　a　tavern　puzzle。　〃For　one；　you've　not　told　them　you　blew　the　Horn　of　Valere。　The　smallest　of　your　secrets　from　them；　I　think。〃
　　　Mat　blinked。　He　had　assumed　they　had　told　her。　After　all；　she　was　Birgitte。　〃What　secrets　do　I　have？　Those　women　know　my　toenails　and　dreams。〃　She　was　Birgitte。　Of　course。　He　leaned　forward。　〃Make　them　see　reason。　You're　Birgitte　Silverbow。　You　can　make　them　do　as　you　say。　This　city　has　a　pit…trap　at　every　crossing；　and　I