sheritepper.necromancer nine-第16节

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d；　and　flew　away　through　the　trees　on　wide　wings　of　softest　white；　calling　a　two　pitched　oo…ooo　as　it　went；　when　the　honey　tree　shock　itself　and　moved　away　through　the　forest　on　roots　suddenly　as　flexible　as　fingers；　leaving　me　alone；　then　I　began　to　know　what　shifterish　meant。　I　began　to　understand　why　it　was　that　Sambeline　had　sneered　at　my　belongings。　Does　a　pombi　need　a　blanket？　A　cookpot？　A　firestarter？　I　put　down　the　pack　and　stared　at　it；　unwilling　to　leave　it　and　yet　sure　it　marked　me　as　nothing　else　could…stranger；　outsider；　outlander。　Was　this　dangerous　or　otherwise？　I　could　not　tell。
　Among　the　Gamesmen　of　Barish　there　were　sixteen　tiny　figures　representing　Shifters。　In　an　ordinary　set　of　Gamesmen；　such　as　are　given　to　children　for　their　little　two…space　games；　these　would　be　the　pawns。　In　my　set；　Shifters；　and　one　of　them；　or　perhaps　all　of　them　held　the　persona　of　Thandbar；　old　sent…far　himself；　shiftiest　of　all。　Presumably　none　of　this　would　have　been　strange　to　him；　and　yet　I　never　thought　of　taking　a　Shifter　figure　into　my　hand；　never　considered　it。　Later　I　wondered　why　I　had　not　done。　It　was　simple　enough：　pride。　Shifting　was　my　own　talent；　the　one　to　which　I　had　been　born。　I　wanted　no　instruction　in　it　from　another。　I　wanted　it　to　be　mine。　So；　out　of　ignorance　and　pride；　all　unprepared　for　what　I　would　meet　or　see　or　be　required　to　do；　I　went　on　into　the　country　of　Schlaizy　Noithn　quite　alone。　　So。　　I　sat　upon　a　hill　beside　a　grotesque　pile　of　stones；　twisted　and　warped　as　though　shaped　thus　when　molten；　making　an　uneasy　meal　of　fish。　These　were　unusual　fish　in　that　they　had　not　howled　and　climbed　up　the　fish　spear　to　engulf　my　hands　with　a　maw　of　ravening　fury　before　melting　into　a　swarm　of　butterflies　and　scattering　into　impalpability　against　the　sky。　Because　these　fish　were　quiet；　these　fish；　reason　said；　were　real　fish；　edible　fish。　Reason　said　that。　Stomach　was　uncertain。
　Beside　me　the　warped　stones　grated　into　speech；　moving　slowly　as　lips　might　if　they　were　as　wide　and　tall　as　a　man。
　〃Whoooo　suuuups　in　Schlaaaaaizeee　Noiiiiithnnnn？〃
　I　said；　〃Peter；　the　son　of　Mavin　Manyshaped；〃　while　trying　to　keep　my　heart　from　leaping　out　of　my　breast。　The　stone　said　nothing　more。　However；　a　long　spit　of　earth　began　to　grow　from　beside　me；　upward　and　outward　like　a　curving　branch　of　the　living　hill；　out　to　turn　again　and　look　at　me；　opening　from　its　tip　a　curious　eye　of　milky　blue；　lashed　with　grasses；　which　blinked；　blinked；　blinked　at　me；　staring。　It　stared　while　the　fish　cooked；　while　I　ate　them；　while　I　scrubbed　my　knife　and　put　it　away；　while　I　put　out　the　fire；　then　turned　to　stare　after　me　still　as　I　walked　away。　When　I　looked　back　at　the　crest　of　the　next　hill；　the　eye　had　grown　a　bit　taller　to　keep　me　in　view。
　Sometimes　the　road　moved。　Sometimes　it　moved　in　the　direction　I　was　going；　sometimes　sideways；　sometimes　backwards。　Sometimes　it　jumped；　like　a　cranky　horse　hopping　when　it　is　first　saddled。　When　the　road　went　against　my　direction；　I　got　off　as　soon　as　possible；　always　apologizing　for　doing　so…or　for　having　been　on　it　in　the　first　place。　It　was　hard　to　walk　unless　there　was　a　road；　for　the　land　was　full　of　impassable　tangles。　Sometimes　the　roads　spoke　to　me；　sometimes　they　cursed　me。　Once　a　road　held　fast　to　my　feet　while　it　carried　me　back　a　full　day's　journey。　Will　you　understand　my　stupidity　when　I　tell　you　that　I　walked　the　day's　journey　again　on　my　own　two　feet；　carrying　my　pack？
　They…whoever　they　were…grew　impatient。
　I　stopped　when　it　grew　dark；　took　my　firelighter　out　of　the　pack　and　laid　kindling　beneath　it；　ready　for　the　spark。　The　kindling　reached　up　and　flipped　it　out　of　my　hands　to　be　caught　by　a　bird　sitting　on　a　stone。　The　bird　flew　away；　carrying　the　firelighter　in　her　claws；　and　I　seemed　to　hear　small；　cawing　laughter　from　the　air。　I　cursed；　cursed　the　place；　the　inhabitants；　myself。　Nothing　seemed　to　hear　me　or　care；　save　that　the　tops　of　the　trees　moved　in　a　wind　I　had　not　felt　till　then　and　clouds　began　to　boil　in　the　sunset；　so　many　puffy　gray　dumplings　in　a　red　soup　of　sky。　Within　moments　it　began　to　rain。　My　kindling　grew　legs　and　walked　into　the　brush。　I　rolled　myself　into　my　blankets　and　nibbled　on　a　handful　of　nuts　collected　during　the　day's　travel。　A　stag　came　out　of　the　forest；　trumpeted　challenge　to　another　which　appeared　from　behind　me；　the　two　charged　one　another　over　my　body。　I　rolled；　frantic；　scraped　across　stones　which　left　me　bleeding；　sat　up　to　see　the　two　stags　running　into　the　trees　my　blankets　caught　upon　their　antlers。
　I　sat　beneath　a　tree；　water　dripping　down　my　neck；　without　blankets；　without　fire；　the　rain　continuing　in　an　endless；　mocking　stream。　Whenever　I　moved；　it　found　me。　There　was　no　shelter　near　except　a　hollow　high　in　the　tree　into　which　wings　flickered　from　time　to　time；　outlined　against　flashes　of　lightning。　I　was　cold。　My　clothes　were　little　use　except　to　hold　some　warmth　against　my　body。　I　felt　a　little　tug　at　one　ankle。　The　next　lightning　flash　showed　a　small；　razor　edged　vine　cutting　the　seams　of　my　trousers　while　a　tendril　sifted　a　kind　of　powder　on　my　boots。　Two　lightning　flashes　later　and　the　boots　were　sprouting　fungus　from　every　surface；　huge；　soggy　sponges　covering　my　feet。　Wings　flickered　into　the　hollow　five　man…heights　above　me；　an　opening　as　wide　as　my　armspan　into　the　great　tree。
　A　kind　of　dull　fury　began　to　pound　in　me；　a　disfort　so　great　that　my　body　rebelled　against　it。　There　was　no　thought　connected　to　it　at　all。　Something　deeper　and　more　ancient　than　thought　did　as　it　wished；　and　Peter　did　nothing　to　oppose　it。　　My　claws　struck　deep　into　the　corky　bark　of　the　tree。　My　long；　curved　fangs　gleamed　in　the　lightning。　Above　me　was　a　consternation　of　birds；　and　my　pombi…self　smiled　in　anticipation。　I　came　through　the　opening　into　the　hollow　in　a　rush；　a　crunch　of　jaws；　a　flap　of　great　paws　catching　this　and　that　flutterer；　to　make　a　leisurely　meal　of　warm　flesh　as　I　spat　feathers　out　of　the　opening　and　watched　the　storm　move　away　across　the　fax　hills。　When　it　was　quiet；　I　curled　into　the　dry　hollow；　pausing　only　to　rip　out　a　strip　of　rotted　wood　which　made　a　small　disfort　against　my　hide。　I　slept。　It　was　warm　within　the　tree；　and　the　fury　passed　as　the　storm　passed。
　I　woke　remembering　this　dimly；　in　my　own　body　shape；　naked　as　an　egg。　Below　me　the　remains　of　my　pack　lay　on　the　ground。　A　few　straps　and　buckles。　A　knife。　Beside　me　in　the　hole　was　the　pouch　in　which　the　Gamesmen　of　Barish　were　stored。　Evidently　even　in　fury　I　had　not　let　them　go。　I　went　down　the　tree　as　I　had　e　up　it；　pombi…style；　the　pouch　between　my　teeth。　Once　on　the　ground；　however；　I　became　Peter　once　more；　furred…Peter；　with　a　pocket　in　the　fur　to　hold　the　Gamesmen。　It　was　no　great　matter。　I　wondered　then；　as　I　have　since；　why　it　took　so　long　to　think　of　it　or　decide　to　do　it。　The　knife　would　have　fitted　into　the　pocket　as　well；　but　I　left　it　where　it　lay。　The　pombi　claws　would　cut　as　well。
　As　the　sun　rose　higher　and　warmer；　my　fur　grew　shorter　ex…eept　upon　the　legs　and　feet　where　it　was　needed　as　protection　against　the　stones　and　briars。　When　it　grew　cool　with　evening；
　fur　became　long　again。　The　body　did　it。　Peter　did　not　need　to　think　of　it。　The　body　thought　of　longer　legs　on　occasion；　as　well；　and　of　arms　which　were　variably　long　to　pick　whatever　fruits　were　ripe。　That　day　late　better　than　in　many　days　past。　No　fruit　tore　itself　screaming　from　my　hands。　No　fish　or　bird　turned　into　a　monster　over　my　fire。　Some　things　I　let　alone；　and　the　body　knew　which。　After　a　time；　the　eyes　knew；　also；　and　then　the　brain。
　There　were　trees　one　did　not　approach；　hills　one　stayed　away　from；　roads　one　did　not　step　upon。　There　were　others　which　were　hospitable；　or　merely　〃real。〃　There　were　artifacts　in　Schlaizy　Noithn。　Monuments。　Cenotaphs。　Monstrous　menhirs　which　looked　as　though　they　had　been　erected　in　the　dawn　of　time。　Some　had　been　put　there　by　people。　Gamesmen；　perhaps。　Or　pawns。　Some　were　Shifters；　beings　like　myself　（or　so　I　thought）　in　the　act　of　creation。　I　learned　to　trust　the　body's　feeling　about　these　places。　If　they　were　〃real〃　then　I　might　explore　or　take　shelter　there。　If　they　were　not；　it　were　far　better　to　stay　a　fortable　distance　away。　I　did　not　yet　know　of　other　kinds　of　things；　neither　real　nor　Shifter；　kinds　of　things　my　body　would　not　warn　me　of。　What　betrayed　me　to　one　of　these　was　simply　loneliness。
　Days　had　gone　by。　I　had　lost　count　of　them。　I　had　quartered　the　valley　in　search　of　the　monument　of　Thandbar。　I　had　searched　and　had　begun　to　despair；　for　who　was　to　say　the　monument　had　not　moved　always　before　me；　or　behind　me？　I　had　not　seen　a　human　form　since　Sambeline　had　flown　away。　I　had　wondered　from　time　to　time　whether　they　used　the　human　form　only　on　some　ceremonial　occasions　for　some　purpose　of　high　ritual　in　the　pursuance　of　their　religion；　whatever　that　might　be。　In　any　case；　they　did　not　show　human　form　to　me。　I　saw　animals　which　were　not　animals；　things　apparently　of　stone　and　earth　which　were　not；　trees　and　plants　which　never　sprouted　from　seed　or　tuber；　but　I　did　not　see　mankind。　Even　furred…Peter　was　far　closer　to　his　reality　than　many　others　there。
　So；　when　I　came　upon　the　Castle；　lit　from　a　hundred　windows；　with