Sabriel (The Abhorsen Trilogy)-第32章

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one　such　shadow；　selected　by　lot　and　pelled　by　its　peers；　gave　up　its　existence　in　life　with　a　silent　scream；　vanishing　into　death。　their　master　was　many；　many　leagues　away；　and　the　quickest　way　to　reach　him　lay　in　death。　of　course；　message　delivered；　the　messenger　would　fall　through　the　gates　to　a　final　demise。　but　the　master　didn’t　care　about　that。

the　gap　in　the　breakwater　proved　to　be　at　least　fifteen　feet　wide；　and　the　water　was　twice　sabriel’s　height；　the　sea　surging　through　with　a　rough　aggression。　it　was　also　covered　by　archers　from　the　island；　as　they　discovered　when　an　arrow　struck　the　stones　in　front　of　them　and　skittered　off　into　the　sea。

instantly；　touchstone　rushed　in　front　of　sabriel；　and　she　felt　the　flow　of　charter　magic　from　him；　his　swords　sketching　a　great　circle　in　the　air　in　front　of　them　both。　glowing　lines　followed　the　swords’　path；　till　a　shining　circle　hung　in　the　air。

four　arrows　curved　through　the　air　from　the　island。　one；　striking　the　circle；　simply　vanished。

the　other　three　missed　pletely；　striking　stones　or　sea。

“arrow　ward；”　gasped　touchstone。　“effective；　but　hard　to　keep　going。　do　we　retreat？”

“not　yet；”　replied　sabriel。　she　could　feel　the　dead　stirring　in　the　village　behind　them　and　she　could　also　see　the　archers　now。　there　were　four　of　them；　two　pairs；　each　behind　one　of　the　large；　upthrust　stones　that　marked　where　the　breakwater　joined　the　island。　they　looked　young；　nervous　and　were　already　proven　to　be　of　little　threat。

“hold！”　shouted　sabriel。　“we　are　friends！”

there　was　no　reply；　but　the　archers　didn’t　loose　their　nocked　arrows。

“what’s　the　village　leader’s　title—usually；　i　mean？　what　are　they　called？”　sabriel　whispered　hurriedly　to　touchstone；　once　again　wishing　she　knew　more　about　the　old　kingdom　and　its　customs。

“in　my　day　。　。　。”　touchstone　replied　slowly；　his　swords　retracing　the　arrow　ward；　attention　mostly　on　that；　“in　my　day—elder—for　this　size　of　village。”

“we　wish　to　speak　with　your　elder！”　shouted　sabriel。　she　pointed　at　the　cloud…front　advancing　behind　her；　and　added；　“before　darkness　falls！”

“wait！”　came　the　answer；　and　one　of　the　archers　scampered　back　from　the　rocks；　up　towards　the　buildings。　closer　to；　sabriel　realized　they　were　probably　boathouses　or　something　like　that。

the　archer　returned　in　a　few　minutes；　an　older　man　hobbling　over　the　rocks　behind　him。　the　other　three　archers；　seeing　him；　lowered　their　bows　and　returned　shafts　to　quivers。　touchstone；　seeing　this；　ceased　to　maintain　the　arrow　ward。　it　hung　in　the　air　for　a　moment；　then　dissipated；　leaving　a　momentary　rainbow。

the　elder　was　named　in　fact；　as　well　as　title；　they　saw；　as　he　limped　along　the　breakwater。　long　white　hair　blew　like　fragile　cobwebs　around　his　thin；　wrinkled　face；　and　he　moved　with　the　deliberate　intention　of　the　very　old。　he　seemed　unafraid；　perhaps　possessed　of　the　disinterested　courage　of　one　already　close　to　death。

“who　are　you？”　he　asked；　when　he　reached　the　gap；　standing　above　the　swirling　waters　like　some　prophet　of　legend；　his　deep　orange　cloak　flapping　around　him　from　the　rising　breeze。

“what　do　you　want？”

sabriel　opened　her　mouth　to　answer；　but　　touchstone　had　already　started　to　speak。　loudly。

“i　am　touchstone；　sworn　swordsman　for　the　abhorsen；　who　stands　before　you。　are　arrows　your　wele　for　such　folk　as　we？”

the　old　man　was　silent　for　a　moment；　his　deep…set　eyes　focused　on　sabriel；　as　if　he　could　strip　away　any　falsity　or　illusion　by　sight　alone。

sabriel　met　his　gaze；　but　out　of　the　corner　of　her　mouth　she　whispered　to　touchstone。

“what　makes　you　think　you　can　speak　for　me？　wouldn’t　a　friendly　approach　be　better？　and　since　when　are　you　my　sworn—”

she　stopped；　as　the　old　man　cleared　his　throat　to　speak　and　spat　into　the　water。　for　a　moment；　she　thought　that　this　was　his　response；　but　as　neither　the　archers　nor　touchstone　reacted；　it　was　obviously　of　no　account。

“these　are　bad　times；”　the　elder　said。　“we　have　been　forced　to　leave　our　firesides　for　the　smoking　sheds；　warmth　and　fort　for　seawinds　and　the　stench　of　fish。　many　of　the　people　of　nestowe　are　dead—or　worse。　strangers　and　travelers　are　rare　in　such　times；　and　not　always　what　they　seem。”

“i　am　the　abhorsen；”　sabriel　said；　reluctantly。

“enemy　of　the　dead。”

“i　remember；”　replied　the　old　man；　slowly。

“abhorsen　came　here　when　i　was　a　young　man。　he　came　to　put　down　the　haunts　that　the　spice　merchant　brought；　charter　curse　him。

abhorsen。　i　remember　that　coat　you’re　wearing；　blue　as　a　ten…fathom　sea；　with　the　silver　keys。　there　was　a　sword；　also　。　。　。”

he　paused；　expectantly。　sabriel　stood；　silently；　waiting　for　him　to　go　on。

“he　wants　to　see　the　sword；”　touchstone　said；　voice　flat；　after　the　silence　stretched　too　far。

“oh；”　replied　sabriel；　flushing。

it　was　quite　obvious。　carefully；　so　as　not　to　alarm　the　archers；　she　drew　her　sword；　holding　it　up　to　the　sun；　so　the　charter　marks　could　clearly　be　seen；　silver　dancers　on　the　blade。

“yes；”　sighed　the　elder；　old　shoulders　sagging　with　relief。　“that　is　the　sword。　charter…spelled。

she　is　the　abhorsen。”

he　turned　and　tottered　back　towards　the　archers；　worn　voice　increasing　to　the　ghost　of　a　fisherman’s　cross…water　hail。　“e　on；　you　four。　quick　with　the　bridge。　we　have　visitors！　help　at　last！”

sabriel　glanced　at　touchstone；　raising　her　eyebrows　at　the　implication　of　the　old　man’s　　last　three　words。　surprisingly；　touchstone　met　her　gaze；　and　held　it。

“it　is　traditional　for　someone　of　high　rank；　such　as　yourself；　to　be　announced　by　their　sworn　swordsman；”　he　said　quietly。　“and　the　only　acceptable　way　for　me　to　travel　with　you　is　as　your　sworn　swordsman。　otherwise；　people　will　assume　that　we　are；　at　best；　illicit　lovers。　having　your　name　coupled　to　mine　in　such　a　guise　would　lower　you　in　most　eyes。　you　see？”

“ah；”　replied　sabriel；　gulping；　feeling　the　flush　of　embarrassment　e　back　and　spread　from　her　cheeks　to　her　neck。　it　felt　a　lot　like　being　on　the　receiving　end　of　one　of　miss　prionte’s　severest　social　put…downs。　she　hadn’t　even　thought　about　how　it　would　look；　the　two　of　them　traveling　together。　certainly；　in　ancelstierre；　it　would　be　considered　shameful；　but　this　was　the　old　kingdom；　where　things　were　different。　but　only　some　things；　it　seemed。

“lesson　two　hundred　and　seven；”　muttered　mogget　from　somewhere　near　her　feet。　“three　out　of　ten。　i　wonder　if　they’ve　got　any　freshcaught　whiting？　i’d　like　a　small　one；　still　flopping—”

“be　quiet！”　sabriel　interrupted。　“you’d　better　　pretend　to　be　a　normal　cat　for　a　while。”

“very　well；　milady。　abhorsen；”　mogget　replied；　stalking　away　to　sit　on　the　other　side　of　touchstone。

sabriel　was　about　to　reply　scathingly　when　she　saw　the　faintest　curve　at　the　corner　of　touchstone’s　mouth。　touchstone？　grinning？　surprised；　she　misplaced　the　retort　on　her　tongue；　then　forgot　it　altogether；　as　the　four　archers　heaved　a　plank　across　the　gap；　the　end　smacking　down　onto　stone　with　a　startling　bang。

“please　cross　quickly；”　the　elder　said；　as　the　men　steadied　the　plank。　“there　are　many　fell　creatures　in　the　village　now；　and　i　fear　the　day　is　almost　done。”

true　to　his　words；　cloud…shadow　fell　across　them　as　he　spoke；　and　the　fresh　scent　of　closing　rain　mingled　with　the　wet　and　salty　smell　of　the　sea。　without　further　urging；　sabriel　ran　quickly　across　the　plank；　mogget　behind　her；　touchstone　bringing　up　the　rear。

。。



chapter　xvii


all　the　survivors　of　nestowe　were　gathered　in　the　largest　of　the　fish…smoking　sheds；　save　for　the　current　shift　of　archers　who　watched　the　breakwater。　there　had　been　one　hundred　and　twenty…six　villagers　the　week　before—now　there　were　thirty…one。

“there　were　thirty…two　until　this　morning；”

the　elder　said　to　sabriel；　as　he　passed　her　a　cup　of　passable　wine　and　a　piece　of　dried　fish　atop　a　piece　of　very　hard；　very　stale　bread。　“we　thought　we　were　safe　when　we　got　to　the　island；　but　monjer　stowart’s　boy　was　found　just　after　dawn　today；　sucked　dry　like　a　husk。　when　we　touched　him；　it　was　like　。　。　。　burnt　paper；　that　still　holds　its　shape　。　。　。　we　touched　him；　and　he　crumbled　into　flakes　of　。　。　。　something　like　ash。”

sabriel　looked　around　as　the　old　man　spoke；　noting　the　many　lanterns；　candles　and　rush　tapers　that　added　both　to　the　light　and　the　smoky；　fishy　atmosphere　of　the　shed。　the　survivors　were　a　very　mixed　group—men；　women　and　children；　from　very　young　to　the　elder　himself。　their　only　mon　characteristic　was　the　fear　pinching　their　faces；　the　fear　showing　in　their　nervous；　staccato　movement。

“we　think　one　of　them’s　here；”　said　a　woman；　her　voice　long　gone　beyond　fear　to　fatalism。　she　stood　alone；　acpanied　by　the　clear　space　of　tragedy。　sabriel　guessed　she　had　lost　her　family。

husband；　children—perhaps　parents　and　siblings；　too；　for　she　wasn’t　over　forty。

“it’ll　take　us；　one　by　one；”　the　woman　continued；　matter…of…fact；　her　voice　filling　the　shed　with　dire　certainty。　around　her；　people　shuffled；　twitchily；　not　looking　at　her；　as　if　to　meet　her　gaze　would　be　to　accept　her　words。

most　looked　at　sabriel　and　she　saw　hope　in　their　eyes。　not　blind　faith；　or　plete　confidence；　but　a　gambler’s　h