tw.togreenangeltower2-第12章
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pany of Sithi who led them； their banners and armor ablaze with color。 Could the fact that Jiriki's folk have entered the battle somehow have tipped the scale in our favor？ Or am I making too much out of the tiniest of signs？
He laughed to himself； but grimly。 This last year and its attendant horrors seemed to have made him as omen…drunk as his ancestors of Hern's day。
His ancestors had been on Eolair's mind more than a little in the last few days。 The army of Sithi and men riding toward Naglimund had recently stopped at Eolair's castle at Nad Mullach on the River Baraillean。 In the two days the army was quartered there； the count had found another three score men from the surrounding area who were willing to join the war party…most of them more for the wonder of riding with the fabled Peaceful Ones； Eolair suspected； than out of any sense of duty or thirst for revenge。 The young men who agreed to join the pany were mostly those whose families had been lost or scattered during the recent conflict。 Those who still had land or loved ones to protect had no desire to ride off to another war； no matter how noble or all…enpassing the cause…nor could Eolair have manded them to do so： the landholders of Hernystir had not possessed that right since King Tethtain's day。
Nad Mullach had been less harshly treated than Hernysadharc； but it had still suffered during Skali's conquest。 In the short time he had； Eolair rounded up those few of his retainers who remained and did his best to set things on the right course again。 If he did manage somehow to return from this mad war that was growing madder by the day； he wanted nothing more than to put down the reins of responsibility as soon as possible and live once more in his beloved Nad Mullach。
His liege…folk had held out long against the small portion of Skali's army that had been left to besiege them； but when those prisoned within the castle's walls began to starve； Eolair's cousin and castellaine Gwynna； a stern； capable woman； opened the gates to the Rimmersmen。 Many of the fine things that had been in Eolair's line since not long after Sinnach's alliance with the Eri…king were destroyed or stolen； and so were many objects that Eolair himself had brought back from his travels throughout Osten Ard。 Still； he had consoled himself； the walls still stood； the fields…under a blanket of snow…were still fertile； and the wide Baraillean； unhindered by war or winter； still rushed past Nad Mullach on its way to Abaingeat and the sea。
The count had mended Gwynna for her decision； telling her that had he been in residence he would have done the same。 She； to whom the sight of Skali's outlanders in her great house had been the most galling thing imaginable； was a little forted； but not much。
Those outlanders； perhaps because their master was far away in Hernysadharc； or perhaps because they were not themselves of Skali's savage Kaldskryke clan； had been less hateful in their occupation than the invaders in other parts of Hernystir。 They had treated their conquered prisoners poorly； and had plundered and smashed to their hearts' content； but had not indulged in the kind of rape； torture； and senseless killing that had marked Skali's main army as it drove on Hernysadharc。
Still； despite the parative lightness of the damage to his ancestral home； as he rode out of Nad Mullach Eolair was nevertheless filled with a sense of violation and shame。 His forebears had built the castle to watch over their bit of the river valley。 Now it had been attacked and defeated； and the current count had not even been at home。 His servants and kin had been forced to make their way alone。
I served my king； he told himself。 What else could I do？
There was no answer； but that did not make it any easier to live with the memories of shattered stone； scorched tapestries； and frightened； hollow…eyed people。 Even should both war and spirit…winter end tomorrow； that harm had already been done。
〃Would you like something more to eat； my lady？〃 Eolair asked。
He could not help wondering what Maegwin in her madness made of the rather poor fare that had been their lot so far on the trip toward Naglimund。 Nothing much could be expected of a war…ravaged countryside； of course； but the count was curious how hard bread and leathery onions could be considered food fit for gods。
〃No； Eolair； thank you。〃 Maegwin shook her head and smiled gently。 〃Even in a land of unending pleasure； we must rest from pleasure occasionally。〃
Unending pleasure！ The count smiled back despite himself。 It might not be bad to be as touched as Maegwin； at least during meals。
A moment later he chided himself for the uncharitable thought。 Look at her。 She's like a child。 It's not her fault…perhaps it was the blow Skali struck her。 It may not have killed her； as she thinks； but it might have disordered her brains。
He stared at her。 Maegwin was watching the sunset with evident pleasure。 Her face seemed almost to glow。
What is that term they use in Nabban？ 〃Holy fools。〃 That's what she looks like…someone who is no longer of the earth。
〃The sky of heaven is more beautiful than I would have imagined；〃 she said dreamily。 〃I wonder if perhaps it is our own sky； but we see it now from the other side。〃
And even were there some cure； Eolair wondered suddenly； what right have I to take this away from her？ The thought was shocking； like cold water dashed in his face。 She is happy…happy for the first time since her father went off to war and his death。 She eats； she sleeps； she talks to me and others 。。。 even if most of it is arrant nonsense。 How would she be better off if she came back to her senses in this dreadful time？
There was no answer to that； of course。 Eolair took a deep breath； fighting off the weariness that assailed him when he was with Maegwin。 He stood and walked to a patch of melting snow nearby； washed his bowl； then returned to the tree where Maegwin sat； staring out across the rolling fields of grass and gray snow toward the ruddy western sky。
〃I am going to talk to Jiriki；〃 he told her。 〃Will you be well here？〃
She nodded； a half…smile tilting her lips。 〃Certainly； Count Eolair。〃
He bowed his head and left her。
The Sithi were seated upon the ground around Likimeya's fire。 Eolair stopped some distance away； marveling at the strangeness of the sight。 Although close to； a dozen of them sat in a wide circle； no one spoke： they merely looked at each other as though they carried on some wordless conversation。 Not for the first time； the Count of Nad Mullach felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in superstitious wonder。 What strange allies！
Likimeya still wore her mask of ashes。 Heavy rains had swept down on the traveling army the day before； but her strange face…painting seemed just as it had been； which made the count suspect that she renewed it each day。 Seated across from her was a tall； narrow…featured Sitha…woman； thin as a priest's staff； with pale sky…blue hair drawn up atop her head in a birdlike crest。 It was only because Jiriki had told him that Eolair knew that this stern woman； Zinjadu； was even older than Likimeya。
Also seated at the fire was Jiriki's red…haired； green…garbed uncle Khendraja'aro； and Chekai'so Amber…Locks； whose shaggy hair and surprisingly open face…Eolair had even seen this Sitha smile and laugh…made him seem almost human。 On either side of Jiriki sat Yizashi； whose long gray witchwood spear was twined about with sun…golden ribbons； and Kuroyi； who was taller than anyone else in the entire pany； Sithi or Hernystiri； and so pale and cold…featured that but for his tar…black hair he might have been a Norn。 There were others； too； three females and a pair of males that Eolair had seen before； but whose names he did not know。
He stood unfortably for some time； uncertain of whether to stay or go。 At last； Jiriki looked up。 〃Count Eolair；〃 he said。 〃We are just thinking about Naglimund。〃
Eolair nodded； then bowed toward Likimeya； who lowered her chin briefly in acknowledgment。 None of the other Sithi gave him much more attention t
