tw.togreenangeltower2-第70章
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st。 The possibility that this direction might finish as the other end had； in an impenetrable wall of fallen dirt or stone； was not something he could afford to consider。
〃Down pitch…black pit went young King John。〃 Simon sang again； quieter than before；
〃Where Fire…Drake lurked on hoard of gold；
And no one knew that he had gone；
For not a person had he told 。。。〃
It was strange。 Simon did not feel mad； but he was hearing things that were not truly there。 The sound of splashing water had returned； louder and more forceful than before； but now it seemed to e from all sides； as though he walked through the curtain of a waterfall。 Mixed with it； just barely separable from the hiss and spatter； was the murmur of speech。
Voices！ Perhaps there are cross…tunnels somewhere nearby。 Perhaps they lead to people。 To real； living people 。。。
The voices and the water…sounds stayed with him for a time without revealing their source； then faded away； leaving him again with the noise of his footsteps as his only pany。
Confused and weary； frightened by what the phantom sounds might mean； he almost stepped into a hole in the tunnel floor。 He tripped and then caught himself； braced his hand against the wall； and stared down。 The light of another torch seemed to gleam in the depths below； and for a moment he thought his heart would stop。
〃Who。。。 Who's th。。。〃 As he leaned down； the light below him seemed to rise。
A reflection。 Water。
Simon dropped to his knees and pushed his face toward the tiny pool； then stopped as its smell came up to him； oily and unpleasant。 He dipped his fingers in and brought them out。 The water seemed oddly slippery on his skin。 He brought the torch forward for a better look。 A sheet of flame leapt up and slapped hotly against his face； he shouted in pain and surprise as he tumbled backward。 For a moment it seemed the whole world had caught fire。
Sitting splay…legged on the ground； he lifted his hand to his cheek and felt gingerly across his features。 The skin was as tender as if he had been too long in the sun； and he could feel the hairs of his beard turned crisp and curled； but everything seemed to be in its proper place。 He looked down to see a flame dancing in the hole in the tunnel floor。
Usires Aedon！ he cursed silently。 Mooncalf's luck。 I find water and it's the kind that burns…whatever that is。
A tear coursed down his hot cheek。
Whatever was in the pool was burning merrily。 Simon stared at it； so disappointed to find his drinking water undrinkable that he could not for a long time make sense of what he was seeing。 At last； something Morgenes had once said came back to him。
Perdruinese Fire…that's what it is。 The doctor said it's found in caves。 The Perdruin…folk used to make catapult balls of it and throw it at their enemies and burn them to cracklings。 That was the kind of history lesson that Simon had paid close attention to…the sort where interesting things happened。 If I had more sticks and more rags； I could use it to make torches。
Shaking his head； he clambered to his feet and started down the tunnel once more。 After a few paces he stopped and shook his head again。
Mooncalf。 Stupid mooncalf。
He returned to the burning pool and sat down； then took off his shirt and began to tear strips of cloth from the hem。 The Perdruinese Fire was pleasantly warm。
Rachel would skin me if she saw me ruining a perfectly good shirt。 He giggled too loudly。 The echoes rolled down the corridor into empty darkness。 It would be good to see Rachel again； he realized。 The idea seemed strange but indisputable。
When he had a dozen strips…his shirt now ended not far beneath his armpits…he sat and stared at the flames for a moment； trying to decide how to dip the cloth without burning the skin off his hands。 He considered using the torch but decided against it。 He had no idea how deep this hole in the tunnel ran and he was afraid he might drop the brand。 Then the only light he possessed would be one he could not move。
At last； after long moments of thought； he set the torch to one side； then began shoveling loose dirt from the cracks between slabs of stone into the hole。 After he had poured in a score of handfuls； the flame flickered and died。 He waited a little longer； having no idea of how long it might take to cool； then shoveled the sticky din away until there was an open space into which he could dip the rags。 When he had soaked all the strips of cloth； he put one aside and then rolled each of the others tightly and set them all side by side on the last and largest piece he had torn from his shirt。 He bundled up this makeshift sack and hung it on his belt。 The remaining strip he carefully wrapped around the torch just below the flame； then turned the brand until the cloth soaked in Perdruinese Fire caught。 It burned brightly； and Simon nodded。 He still needed food and water； but if he managed carefully； he would not have to worry about losing his light for some while yet。 Lost and alone he might be； but he was not just Simon Mooncalf…he was the fabled Seoman Snowlock as well。
But he would much rather have been just Simon； and free to walk upon the green world with his friends。
Choices； he thought unhappily； could be both a blessing and a curse。
Simon had already slept once； curled in a ball on the hard tunnel floor with a fresh rag of Perdruinese Fire wrapped around his torch。 When he awakened from a panicky dream in which all light was gone and he crawled through muddy blackness； the torch's flame was still burning steadily。
Since then； he had walked for what seemed like several more hours。 His thirst had grown greater and greater until every step seemed to leach moisture from his body； until he could think of almost nothing but finding water。 The strip of meat was still in his pocket…just the thought of eating the dry； salty thing made his head ache； despite a hunger almost as great as his thirst。
Now； suddenly； the monotonous stone and earth walls of the tunnel had been breached。 A cross tunnel； a ragged but substantial hole that was clearly not natural； opened out on either side。 After a near…infinity of choiceless plodding； he had a decision to make： should he go forward； right； or left？
What he wanted； of course； was a path leading upward； but neither of the two branches seemed anything but level。 He walked a little way down each in turn； sniffing the air； looking and listening for anything that might be a sign of open air or water； but to no avail： the cross tunnel seemed as devoid of interest as the one through which he had been trudging since Aedon only knew when。
He moved back to the main tunnel and stood for a moment； trying to decide where he might be。 Surely he was somewhere far beneath Swertclif itself…he could not have walked downward at such a steady angle for so long without having descended to beneath the hill itself。 But his way had wound so many times he could not possibly guess where he might stand in relation to the world above。 He would just have to make a choice and see what happened。
I'll only ever turn one direction； I can at least find my way back to where I've been。
Based on nothing definite； he resolved to take the left…hand tunnel； and to always take the left…hand turning from here on。 Then； if he decided he had made a bad decision； he would just turn around and take all the turns back to the right。
He turned to the left and stumbled on。
At first the tunnel seemed no different than the one he had left； a tube of uneven stone and earth without any sign of use or purpose。 Who had made these grim holes？ It must have been men； or manlike beings； for in places he felt sure he could see spots where rock been chipped or broken away to open the meandering course。
His thirst and dreary loneliness were such that he did not notice the soft voices again until they were all about him once more。 This time； though； there was a sensation of movement as well…a plucking at his clothes like the touch of the wind； a hurrying of shadows that made the light in。 the tunnel seem to fl
