df.therunelords-第85章
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at would crash down deep in some trough； perhaps be submerged forever。
That was how Borenson felt now； submerged； drowning； hoping to keep afloat。 The whole notion of sending one man to storm a Dedicates' Keep was a long shot。 In all probability； Borenson would arrive at the keep； find it well guarded； and have to retreat。
But he knew； he knew； that even if he had only a slim chance of breaking into the keep； he'd have to take it。
When the storm passed that evening； he still sat unmoving； listening to the stealthy water dripping from trees； the creaking of branches in the wind。 He smelled the leaf mold； the rich soil of the forest； the clean scent of the land。 And ashes。
Murdering Dedicates did not sit well with him。 Borenson tried to harden his resolve for long hours； imagining how it might beclimbing the walls in the escalade； battling guards。
Borenson imagined riding into the castle； going to the gates of the Dedicates' Keep； and riding down any defenders； then discharging his duty。
Such an attack would seem heroic； would likely get him killed。 He wanted to do it； to finish this horrible task。 He would have gladly made a suicide charge； if not for Myrrima。
If he tried to enter the keep during daylight； he'd jeopardize his mission。 What's more； even if he gained entry into the keep and managed to slaughter the Dedicates； he'd then be forced to return to his king and report。。。what took place between him and Gaborn； and tell why he'd let Sylvarresta live。
Borenson could not stomach the thought。 He couldn't lie to King Orden； pretend he hadn't seen Gaborn。
So he watched the sun drop in the west； spreading gold all through the clouds； even as another storm blew in。
He fetched his horse and rode to the hill south of Castle Sylvarresta。
I am not death； he told himself； though he had long trained to be a good soldier。 He'd bee a fine warrior； in every detail。 Now he would play the assassin。
An image flashed in his mind； five years past； when Queen Orden was murdered in bed with her newborn babe。 Borenson had tried to impale the fellowa huge man who moved like a serpent； a man in black robes； face covered。 But the assassin had escaped。
It hurt terribly to remember such things。 It hurt worse to know that he would now go the nameless assassin one better。
As he neared； Borenson saw that few guards walked the walls of Castle Sylvarresta tonight。 Sylvarresta's loyal soldiers had been decimated； Raj Ahten had left no one to guard the empty shell of a city。 Borenson could not spot a single man on the walls of the Dedicates' Keep。
It saddened him。 Old friendsCaptain Auk； Sir Vonheis； Sir Cheathamshould have been on those walls。 But if they lived； now they resided in the Dedicates' Keep。 He remembered three years past； when he'd brought molasses to the hunt and had strewn it in a trail through the woods； leading to Derrow's feet； then smeared the captain's boots。
When he'd awakened to find a she…bear licking his feet； Derrow had roused the whole camp with his cry。
Borenson took out the white flask of mist； pulled the stopper； and let the fog begin to flow。
So it was that half an hour later； he laid aside his armor； and went to make a lone escalade。 He climbed the Outer Wall on the west side of the city； protected by the fog that crept over with him。
Then he made his way to the inner wall； the King's Wall； and scampered over quickly。 Only a single young man had walked that wall； and he'd turned his back for the moment。
Borenson reached the base of the Dedicates' Keep near midnight； warily watched it。 He did not trust his eyes； worried that guards might be secreted in the King's towers。 So he scaled its wall from the north； ing at it by way of the woods in the tombs； where few prying eyes might spot him。
Rain pelted the keep； making it difficult to find purchase between the stones。 Borenson spent long minutes clinging to the wall before he reached the top。
There； he found that the wall…walks really were all unmanned； but as he scurried down the steps into the inner court； he spotted two city guardsyoung men with few endowmentshuddled away from the drenching rain in the protection of the portcullis。
In a moment when lightning filled the sky； he rushed them； slaughtered them as thunder shook the keep； so that no one heard their cries。
Even as he killed the young men； Borenson wondered。 Not one Invincible？ Not one man to guard all these Dedicates？
It felt like a trap。 Perhaps the guards hid among the Dedicates。
Borenson turned and looked at the rain…slicked stones in the keep。 The lights were out in the great rooms； though a lantern still burned in the kitchens。 A wild wind burst through the portcullis； swept through the bailey。
There was an art； a science to killing Dedicates。 Some of the Dedicates in there； Borenson knew； would be guards themselves； men like him who had dozens of endowments of their own and long years of practice in weaponry。 They might be crippleddeaf or blind； mute or without a sense of smellbut they could be dangerous still。
So； when slaughtering Dedicates； mon sense dictated that you avoid such men； kill first those who served as their Dedicates； weakening the more dangerous foes。
Thus； you began by slaughtering the women； and the young。 You always sought to kill the weakest first。 If you killed a man who had twenty endowments； suddenly you would find that twenty Dedicates would waken； who could sound alarms or fight you themselves。
Though it might be tempting to spare one or two Dedicates； the truth was that if you did； they might call for guards。 So you killed them all。
You murdered moners who had only given endowments； never received。 And you started at the bottom of the keep； blocking all exits； and worked your way to the upper stories。 Unless； of course； someone in the keep was awake。
I had best begin in the kitchen； Borenson told himself。 He took the dead gatekeeper's key and locked the portcullis； so no one could enter the keep or escape； then went to the kitchen。 The door stood locked； but he set the prong of a warhammer in its crack。 With endowments of brawn from eight men； it was no great feat to pry the door free from its hinges。
When he rushed into the kitchens； he found a lowly girl who'd been left to sweep the floor； long into the night。 A young thing； perhaps ten； with straw…blond hair。 He recognized the childthe serving girl who'd catered to Princess Iome last Hostenfest。 Too young to have given an endowment； he'd have thought。 Certainly Sylvarresta would never have taken one from her。
But Raj Ahten has been here； Borenson realized。 The girl had given an endowment to him。
When she saw Borenson in the doorway； she opened her mouth to scream。 Nothing came out。
A mute who had endowed Voice on her lord。
Almost； Borenson did not have the strength to carry his plan through。 He felt sickened。 But he was a good soldier。 Had always been a good soldier。 He couldn't let the little thing wriggle through the wet bars of the portcullis and summon help。 Though this child would die； her sacrifice could save thousands of lives in Mystarria。
He rushed； grabbed the broom from the girl's hand。 She tried to shriek； tried to yank free from his grasp。 She clawed at a table； overturned a bench in her terror。
〃I'm sorry！〃 Borenson said fiercely； then snapped her neck； not wanting to make the girl suffer。
He gently laid her corpse to the ground； heard a thumping sound in the butteryback in the shadows thrown by the lamplight。 Another young girl stood back there； black eyes shining in the darkness。
In all his heroic imaginings this day； he'd not envisioned thisan unguarded keep； where he would have to slaughter children。
Thus began the most gruesome night of Borenson's life。
Chapter 31
A TIME FOR QUESTIONS
As the horses raced through the woods； beneath the black trees； Binnesman held his staff high； shining its dim light for all to see by。 Yet the very act seemed tiring； and Binnesman looked drained； old。
The trees whipped past。
Gaborn had a thousand questions； felt as many uncertainties。 He wished to speak to Binnesman。 But for now he held back his questions。 In Mystarria it was considered rud
