ggk.thelionsofal-rassan-第6章

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　〃You　need　not　send　a　messenger；　ibn　Musa。　I　will　convey　your　regrets　myself　with　a　report　of　your　condition。　No　offense　will　be　taken；　trust　me。　No　one；　least　of　all　Prince　Almalik；　would　want　you　to　die　passing　a　stone　in　the　new　courtyard。〃　He　bowed　to　ibn　Musa　and　then　a　second　time　to　Jehane…to　the　steward's　visible　displeasure…and　withdrew。
　　There　was　a　little　silence。　Amid　the　chatter　of　marketplace　or　temple；　Jehane　unexpectedly　remembered；　it　was　reported　that　the　high…born　women　of　Cartada…and　some　of　the　men；　the　whispers　went…had　been　known　to　seriously　injure　each　other　in　quarrels　over　the　panionship　of　Ammar　ibn　Khairan。　Two　people　had　died；　or　was　it　three？
　　Jehane　bit　her　lip。　She　shook　her　head　as　if　to　clear　it；　astonished　at　herself。　This　was　the　sheerest；　most　idle　sort　of　gossip　to　be　calling　to　mind；　the　kind　of　talk　to　which　she　had　never　paid　attention　in　her　life。　A　moment　later　Velaz　hurried　in　and　she　set　to　work；　gratefully；　at　her　trade。　Softening　pain；　prolonging　life；　offering　a　hope　of　ease　where　little　might　otherwise　lie。
　　
　　One　hundred　and　thirty…nine　citizens　of　Fezana　assembled　in　the　newest　wing　of　the　castle　that　afternoon。　Throughout　Al…Rassan；　not　long　after；　what　ensued　became　known　as　the　Day　of　the　Moat。　This　was　the　way　of　it。
　　The　newly　finished　part　of　Fezana's　castle　was　of　a　most　unusual　and　particular　design。　A　large　dormitory　for　quartering　the　new　Muwardi　troops　led　to　an　equally　large　refectory　for　feeding　them　and　an　adjacent　temple　for　prayers。　The　notorious　Ammar　ibn　Khairan；　who　acpanied　the　guests　through　these　rooms；　was　much　too　polite　to　make　specific　mention　of　the　reason　for　further　military　presence　in　Fezana；　but　none　of　the　assembled　dignitaries　of　the　town　could　possibly　escape　the　significance　of　such　extensive　facilities。
　　Ibn　Khairan；　offering　undeniably　witty　and　impeccably　courteous　mentary；　was　also　too　discreet　to　draw　anyone's　attention；　particularly　during　a　celebration；　to　the　ongoing　indications　of　unrest　and　subversion　in　the　city。　A　certain　number　of　those　passing　through　the　castle；　however；　exchanged　wary；　sidelong　glances　with　each　other。　What　they　were　seeing；　clearly；　was　meant　to　be　intimidating。
　　In　fact；　it　was　a　little　more　than　that。
　　The　odd　nature　of　the　new　wing's　design　became　even　more　apparent　when　they　passed…a　magnificently　dressed　herd　of　prosperous　men…through　the　refectory　to　the　near　end　of　a　long　corridor。　The　narrow　tunnel；　ibn　Khairan　explained；　designed　for　defensive　purposes；　led　to　the　courtyard　where　the　wadjis　were　to　perform　the　consecration　and　where　Prince　Almalik；　heir　to　Cartada's　ambitious　kingdom；　was　waiting　to　receive　them。
　　The　aristocracy　and　most　successful　merchants　of　Fezana　were　individually　escorted　by　Muwardi　soldiers　down　that　dark　corridor。　Approaching　the　end　of　it　each；　in　turn；　could　discern　a　blazing　of　sunlight。　Each　of　them　paused　there；　squinting；　almost　sightless　on　the　threshold　of　light；　while　a　herald　announced　their　proffered　names　with　satisfying　resonance。
　　As　they　passed；　blinking；　into　the　blinding　light　and　stepped　forward　to　offer　homage　to　the　hazily　perceived；　white…robed　figure　seated　on　a　cushion　in　the　midst　of　the　courtyard；　each　of　the　guests　was　sweepingly　beheaded　by　one　of　two　Muwardi　tribesmen　standing　on　either　side　of　the　tunnel's　arch。
　　The　Muwardis；　not　really　strangers　to　this　sort　of　thing；　enjoyed　their　labors　perhaps　more　than　they　ought　to　have　done。　There　were；　of　course；　no　wadjis　waiting　in　the　courtyard；　the　castle　wing　was　receiving　a　different　sort　of　consecration。
　　One　by　one；　through　the　course　of　a　scorching　hot；　cloudless　summer's　afternoon；　the　elite　of　Fezanan　society　made　their　way　along　that　dark；　cool　tunnel；　and　then；　dazzled　by　the　return　to　sunlight；　followed　the　herald's　ringing　proclamation　of　their　names　into　the　white　courtyard　where　they　were　slain。　The　Muwardis　had　been　carefully　chosen。　No　mistakes　were　made。　No　one　cried　out。
　　The　toppling　bodies　were　swiftly　seized　by　other　veiled　tribesmen　and　dragged　to　the　far　end　of　the　courtyard　where　a　round　tower　overlooked　the　new　moat　created　by　diverting　the　nearby　Tavares　River。　The　bodies　of　the　dead　men　were　thrown　into　the　water　from　a　low　window　in　the　tower。　The　severed　heads　were　tossed　carelessly　onto　a　bloody　pile　not　far　from　where　the　prince　of　Cartada　sat；　ostensibly　waiting　to　receive　the　most　prominent　citizens　of　the　most　difficult　of　the　cities　he　was　one　day　to　rule；　if　he　lived　long　enough。
　　As　it　happened；　the　prince；　whose　relations　with　his　father　were　indeed　not　entirely　cordial；　had　not　been　informed　about　this　central；　long…planned　aspect　of　the　afternoon's　agenda。　King　Almalik　of　Cartada　had　more　than　one　purpose　to　what　he　was　doing　that　day。　The　prince　had；　in　fact；　asked　where　the　wadjis　were。　No　one　had　been　able　to　answer　him。　After　the　first　man　appeared　and　was　slain；　his　severed　head　landing　some　distance　from　his　toppling　body；　the　prince　offered　no　further　questions。
　　Part　of　the　way　through　the　afternoon's　nearly　silent；　murderous　progression　under　the　blazing　sun；　around　the　time　the　carrion　birds　began　to　appear　in　numbers；　circling　above　the　water；　it　was　noted　by　some　of　the　soldiers　in　the　increasingly　bloody　courtyard　that　the　prince　seemed　to　have　developed　an　odd；　disfiguring　twitch　above　his　left　eye。　For　the　Muwardis；　this　was　a　contemptible　sign　of　weakness。　He　did　stay　on　his　cushion　though；　they　noted。　And　he　never　moved；　or　spoke；　through　the　entirety　of　what　was　done。　He　watched　one　hundred　and　thirty…nine　men　die　doing　formal　obeisance　to　him。
　　He　never　lost　that　nervous　tic。　During　times　of　stress　or　elation　it　would　return；　an　infallible　signal　to　those　who　knew　him　well　that　he　was　experiencing　intense　emotion；　no　matter　how　he　might　try　to　hide　the　fact。　It　was　also　an　inescapable　reminder…because　all　of　Al…Rassan　was　soon　to　learn　this　story…of　a　blood…soaked　summer　afternoon　in　Fezana。
　　The　peninsula　had　seen　its　share　of　violent　deeds；　from　the　time　of　the　Asharite　conquest　and　before；　but　this　was　something　special；　something　to　be　remembered。　The　Day　of　the　Moat。　One　of　the　legacies　of　Almalik　I；　the　Lion　of　Cartada。　Part　of　his　son's　inheritance。
　　The　slaughter　did　not　end　until　some　time　after　the　fifth　bells　had　called　the　pious　again　to　their　prayers。　By　then　the　number　of　birds　over　the　river　and　moat　had　made　it　evident　that　something　untoward　was　taking　place。　A　few　curious　children　had　gone　outside　the　walls　and　circled　around　to　the　north　to　see　what　was　bringing　so　many　birds。　They　carried　word　back　into　the　city。　There　were　headless　bodies　in　the　water。　Not　long　after　that　the　screaming　began　in　the　houses　and　the　streets　of　Fezana。
　　Such　distracting　sounds　did　not　penetrate　the　castle　walls　of　course；　and　the　birds　could　not　be　seen　from　within　the　handsome；　arcaded　refectory。　After　the　last　of　the　assembled　guests　had　made　his　way　from　there　along　the　tunnel；　Ammar　ibn　Khairan；　the　man　who　had　killed　the　last　khalif　of　Al…Rassan；　went　alone　down　that　corridor　to　the　courtyard。　The　sun　was　over　to　the　west　by　then；　the　light　towards　which　he　walked　through　a　long；　cool　darkness　was　gentle；　weling；　almost　worthy　of　a　poem。
　　
Two
　　After　somehow　coping　with　the　disastrous　incident　at　the　very　beginning　of　their　ride　south；　Alvar　had　been　finding　the　journey　the　most　exhilarating　time　of　his　life。　This　did　not　e　as　a　surprise；　he　had　nourished　dreams　of　this　for　years；　and　reality　doesn't　invariably　shatter　a　young　man's　dreams。　Not　immediately；　at　any　rate。
　　Had　he　been　of　a　slightly　less　rational　nature；　he　might　even　have　given　fuller　rein　to　the　fantasy　he　briefly　entertained　as　they　broke　camp　after　the　dawn　invocation　on　their　fifth　morning　south　of　the　River　Duric：　that　he　had　died　and　arrived；　by　the　grace　of　Jad；　at　the　Paradise　of　Warriors；　and　would　be　allowed　to　ride　behind　Rodrigo　Belmonte；　the　Captain；　through　the　plains　and　steppes　of　summer　forever。
　　The　river　was　far　behind　them；　and　the　walls　of　Carcasia。　They　had　passed　the　wooden　stockade　forts　of　Baeza　and　Lobar；　small；　fledgling　outposts　in　emptiness。　The　pany　rode　now