mck.harpistinthewind-第32章

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shape…changer　…　in　the　pass。　A　windblown　crow　sailed　past　him　on　an　updraft；　he　caught　eagerly　at　its　mind。　But　it　did　not　know　his　language。　He　loosed　it。　The　wild；　sonorous　winds　boomed　hollowly　through　the　peaks；　the　trees　roared　around　him；　smelling　of　winter。　He　turned　finally；　hunched　in　the　wind；　to　follow　the　flow　of　the　Ose　back　into　the　world。
　　　　　　　But　he　stood　still　after　a　step；　watching　the　water　rush　away　from　him　toward　Isig　and　Osterland　and　the　northern　trade…ports　of　the　realm。　His　own　power　held　him　motionless。　There　was　no　place　anywhere　in　the　realm　for　a　man　who　unbound　land…law　and　shaped　wind。　The　river　echoed　the　voices　he　had　heard；　speaking　languages　not　even　the　wizards　could　understand。　He　thought　of　the　dark；　blank　face　of　wind　that　was　the　High　One；　who　would　give　him　nothing　except　his　life。
　　　　　　　〃For　what？〃　he　whispered。　He　wanted　to　shout　the　words　suddenly　at　the　battered；　expressionless　face　of　Erlenstar　Mountain。　The　wind　would　simply　swallow　his　cry。　He　took　another　step　down　the　river　toward　Harte；　where　he　would　find　shelter；　warmth；　fort　from　Danan　Isig。　But　the　king　could　give　him　no　answers。　He　was　trapped　by　the　past；　the　pawn　of　an　ancient　war　he　was　finally　beginning　to　understand。　The　vague　longing　in　him　to　explore　his　own　strange；　unpredictable　power　frightened　him。　He　stood　at　the　river's　edge　for　a　long　time；　until　the　mists　along　the　peaks　began　to　darken　and　a　shadow　formed　across　the　face　of　Erlenstar　Mountain。　Finally；　he　turned　away　from　it；　wandered　through　the　rain　and　icy　mists　toward　the　mountains　bordering　the　northern　wastes。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　He　kept　his　own　shape　as　he　crossed　them；　though　the　rains　in　the　high　peaks　turned　to　sleet　sometimes　and　the　rocks　under　his　hands　as　he　climbed　were　like　ice。　His　life　hung　in　a　precarious　balance　the　first　few　days；　though　he　hardly　realized　it。　He　found　himself　eating　without　remembering　how　he　had　killed；　or　awake　at　dawn　in　a　dry　cave　without　remembering　how　he　had　found　it。　Gradually；　as　he　realized　his　disinclination　to　use　power；　he　gave　some　thought　to　survival。　He　killed　wild　mountain　sheep；　dragged　them　into　a　cave　and　skinned　them；　living　on　the　meat　while　the　pelts　dried　and　weathered。　He　sharpened　a　rib；　prodded　holes　in　the　pelts　and　laced　them　together　with　strips　of　cloth　from　his　tunic。　He　made　a　great　shaggy　hooded　cloak　and　lined　his　boots　with　fur。　When　they　were　finished；　he　put　them　on　and　moved　again；　down　the　north　face　of　the　pass　into　the　wastes。
　　　　　　　There　was　little　rain　in　the　wasteland；　only　the　driving；　biting　winds；　and　frost　that　turned　the　monotonous　land　into　fire　at　sunrise。　He　moved　like　a　wraith；　killing　when　he　was　hungry；　sleeping　in　the　open；　for　he　rarely　felt　the　cold；　as　if　his　body　frayed　without　his　knowledge　into　the　winds。　One　day　he　realized　he　was　no　longer　moving　across　the　arc　of　the　sun；　he　had　turned　east；　wandering　toward　the　morning。　In　the　distance；　he　could　see　a　cluster　of　foothills；　with　Grim　Mountain　jutting　out　of　them；　a　harsh；　blue…gray　peak。　But　it　was　so　far　away　that　he　scarcely　put　a　name　to　it。　He　walked　into　mid…autumn；　hearing　nothing　but　the　winds。　One　night　as　he　sat　before　his　fire；　vaguely　feeling　the　winds　urge　against　his　shape；　he　looked　down　and　saw　the　starred　harp　in　his　hands。
　　　　　　　He　could　not　remember　reaching　back　for　it。　He　gazed　at　it；　watching　the　silent　run　of　fire　down　the　strings。　He　shifted　after　a　while　and　positioned　it。　His　fingers　moved　patternlessly；　almost　inaudibly　over　the　strings；　following　the　rough；　wild　singing　of　the　winds。
　　　　　　　He　felt　no　more　pulsion　to　move。　He　stayed　at　that　isolated　point　in　the　wastes；　which　was　no　more　than　a　few　stones；　a　twisted　shrub；　a　crack　in　the　hard　earth　where　a　stream　surfaced　for　a　few　feet；　then　vanished　again　underground。　He　left　the　place　only　to　hunt；　he　always　found　his　way　back　to　it；　as　if　to　the　echo　of　his　own　harping。　He　harped　with　the　winds　that　blew　from　dawn　until　night；　sometimes　with　only　one　high　string；　as　he　heard　the　lean；　tense；　wailing　east　wind；　sometimes　with　all　strings；　the　low　note　thrumming　back　at　the　boom　of　the　north　wind。　Sometimes；　looking　up；　he　would　see　a　snow　hare　listening　or　catch　the　startled　glance　of　a　white　falcon's　eyes。　But　as　the　autumn　deepened；　animals　grew　rare；　seeking　the　mountains　for　food　and　shelter。　So　he　harped　alone；　a　strange；　furred；　nameless　animal　with　no　voice　but　one　strung　between　his　hands。　His　body　was　honed　to　the　wind's　harshness；　his　mind　lay　dormant　like　the　wastes。　How　long　he　would　have　stayed　there；　he　never　knew；　for　glancing　up　one　night　at　a　shift　of　wind　across　his　fire；　he　found　Raederle。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　She　was　cloaked　in　rich　silvery　furs；　her　hair；　blown　out　of　her　hood；　streaked　the　dark　like　fire。　He　sat　still；　his　hands　stopped　on　the　harp　strings。　She　knelt　down　beside　his　fire；　and　he　saw　her　face　more　clearly；　weary；　winter…pale；　sculpted　to　a　fine；　changeless　beauty。　He　wondered　if　she　were　a　dream；　like　the　face　he　had　seen　between　his　hands　in　the　dark　lake　water。　Then　he　saw　that　she　was　shivering　badly。　She　took　her　gloves　off；　drew　his　windblown　fire　to　a　still　bright　blaze　with　her　hands。　Slowly　he　realized　how　long　it　had　been　since　they　had　spoken。
　　　　　　　〃Lungold；〃　he　whispered。　The　word　seemed　meaningless　in　the　tumult　of　the　wastes。　But　she　had　journeyed　out　of　the　world　to　find　him　here。　He　reached　through　the　fire；　laid　his　hand　against　her　face。　She　gazed　at　him　mutely　as　he　sat　back　again。　She　drew　her　knees　up；　huddled　in　her　furs　against　the　wind。
　　　　　　　〃I　heard　your　harping；〃　she　said。　He　touched　the　strings　soundlessly；　remembering。
　　　　　　　〃I　promised　you　I　would　harp。〃　His　voice　was　husky　with　disuse。　He　added　curiously；　〃Where　have　you　been？　You　followed　me　across　the　backlands；　you　were　with　me　in　Erlenstar　Mountain。　Then　you　vanished。〃
　　　　　　　She　stared　at　him　again；　he　wondered　if　she　were　going　to　answer。　〃I　didn't　vanish。　You　did。〃　Her　voice　was　suddenly　tremulous。　〃Off　the　face　of　the　realm。　The　wizards　have　been　searching　everywhere　for　you。　So　have　the　shape。。。　the　shape…changers。　So　have　I。　I　thought　maybe　you　were　dead。　But　here　you　are；　harping　in　this　wind　that　could　kill　and　you　aren't　even　cold。〃
　　　　　　　He　was　silent。　The　harp　that　had　sung　with　the　winds　felt　suddenly　chilled　under　his　hands。　He　set　it　on　the　ground　beside　him。　〃How　did　you　find　me？〃
　　　　　　　〃I　searched。　In　every　shape　I　could　think　of。　I　thought　maybe　you　were　with　the　vesta。　So　I　went　to　Har　and　asked　him　to　teach　me　the　vesta…shape。　He　started　to；　but　when　he　touched　my　mind；　he　stopped　and　told　me　he　did　not　think　he　had　to　teach　me。　So；　I　had　to　explain　that　to　him。　Then　he　made　me　tell　him　everything　that　had　happened　in　Erlenstar　Mountain。　He　said　nothing；　except　that　you　must　be　found。　Finally；　he　took　me　across　Grim　Mountain　to　the　vesta　herds。　And　while　I　travelled　with　them；　I　began　to　hear　your　harping　on　the　edge　of　my　mind；　on　the　edge　of　the　winds。。。　Morgon；　if　I　can　find　you；　so　can　others。　Did　you　e　out　here　to　learn　to　harp？　Or　did　you　just　run？〃
　　　　　　　〃I　just　ran。〃
　　　　　　　〃Well；　are　you。。。　are　you　planning　to　e　back？〃
　　　　　　　〃For　what？〃
　　　　　　　She　was　silent。　The　fire　flickered　wildly　in　front　of　her；　weaving　itself　into　the　wind。　She　stilled　it　again；　her　eyes　never　leaving　his　face。　She　moved　abruptly　to　his　side　and　held　him　tightly；　her　face　against　the　shaggy　fur　at　his　shoulder。
　　　　　　　〃I　could　learn　to　live　in　the　wastes；　I　guess；〃　she　whispered。　〃It's　so　cold　here；　and　nothing　grows。。。　but　the　winds　and　your　harping　are　beautiful。〃
　　　　　　　His　head　bowed。　He　put　his　arm　around　her；　drawing　her　hood　back　so　that　he　could　feel　her　cheek　against　his。　Something　touched　his　heart；　an　ache　of　cold　that　he　finally　felt；　or　a　painful　stirring　of　warmth。
　　　　　　　〃You　heard　the　voices　of　the　shape…changers　in　Erlenstar　Mountain；〃　he　said　haltingly。　〃You　know　what　they　are。　They　know　all　languages。　They　are　Earth…Masters；　still　at　war；　after　thousands　of　years；　with　the　High　One。　And　I　am　bait　for　their　traps。　That's　why　they　never　kill　me。　They　want　him。　If　they　destroy　him；　they　will　destroy　the　realm。　If　they　cannot　find　me；　perhaps　they　will　not　find　him。〃　She