tw.togreenangeltower2-第95章
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It's not too late to endanger your soul！
There was something oddly reassuring in that thought。 Strengthened； she renewed her assault on the stairs。
She had passed the alcove and climbed a flight past it before she remembered about the plate。 Surely nothing would be different than when she had looked on her way down that morning 。。。 but even so； it would be wrong to shirk。 Rachel； Mistress of Chambermaids； did not shirk； Although her feet ached and her knees protested； although she wanted nothing but to stagger to her little room and lie down； she forced herself to turn and go back down the stairs。
The plate was empty。
Rachel stared at it for long moments。 The meaning of its emptiness crept over her only gradually。
Guthwulf had e back。
She was astonished to find herself clutching the plate and weeping。 Doddering old woman； she berated herself。 What on God's earth are you crying for？ Because a man who has never spoken to you or known your name…who likely doesn 't even know his own name any more…came and took some bread and an onion from a plate？
But even as she scolded herself she felt the dandelion…seed lightness that she had only imagined earlier。 He was not dead！ If the soldiers were looking for him； they had not yet found him…and he had e back。 It was almost as though Earl Guthwulf had known how worried she was。 That was an absurd thought； she knew； but she could not help feeling that something very important had happened。
When she had recovered； she wiped her tears briskly with her sleeve； then took cheese and dried fruit from her sack and filled the plate again。 She checked the covered bowl； the water was gone too。 She emptied her own water skin into the bowl。 The tunnels were a dry and dusty place； and the poor man would certainly be thirsty again soon。
The happy chore finished； Rachel resumed her ascent； but this time the stairs seemed gentler。 She had not found him； but he was alive。 He knew where to e； and would e again。 Perhaps next time he would stay and let her speak to him。
But what would she say？
Anything； anything。 It will be someone to talk to。 Someone to talk to。
Singing a hymn beneath her breath； Rachel made her way back to her hidden room。
Simon's strength seemed to drain out。 As the Norns took him across the Inner Bailey courtyard his knees gave way。 The two immortals did not falter； but lifted him by the arms until only his toes dragged along the ground。
By their silence and their frozen faces they might have been statues of white marble magicked into movement； only their black eyes； which flicked back and forth across the shadowy courtyard； seemed to belong to living creatures。 When one of them spoke quietly in the hissing； clicking tongue of Stormspike； it was as surprising as if the castle walls had laughed。
Whatever the thing had said； its fellow seemed to agree。 They turned slightly and bore their prisoner toward the great keep that contained the Hayholt's chief buildings。
Simon wondered dully where they were taking him。 It didn't seem to matter much。 He had been small use as a spy…first walking into the king's clutches； then practically throwing himself into the arms of these creatures…and now he would be punished for his carelessness。
But what will they do？ Exhaustion battled with fear。 I won't tell them anything。 I won't betray my friends。 I won't！
Even in his numb state； Simon knew that there was little chance that he would keep his silence when Pryrates returned。 Binabik was right。 He had been a wretched； damnable fool。
I will find a way to kill myself if I have to。
But could he？ The Book of Aedon said it was a sin 。。。 and he was afraid to die； afraid to set out on that dark journey by his own choice。 In any case； it seemed unlikely that he would be given any chance for such an escape。 The Norns had taken his Qanuc bone knife； and they seemed capable of effortlessly countering anything he might try。
The walls of the inner keep； covered in carvings of mythical beasts and only slightly better…known saints； appeared through the gloom。 The door was half…open； deep shadow lay beyond。 Simon struggled briefly； but he was held far too firmly by unyielding white fingers。 He stretched his neck in desperation； trying to get a last view of the sky。
Hanging in the murky northern night between Pryrates' stronghold and Green Angel Tower was a spot of shimmering red light…an angry scarlet star。
The poorly lit corridors went on and on。 The Hayholt had always been called the greatest house of all； but Simon was dully surprised at how large it truly was。 It almost seemed that new passageways were being created just on the far side of every door。 Although the night outside had been calm； the corridors were full of chilly breezes； Simon saw only a few； flitting shapes at the far ends of passageways； but the shadows were lively with voices and strange sounds。
Still clutching him firmly； the Norns dragged Simon through a doorway that opened onto a steep； narrow stairwell。 After a long climb down； during which he was wedged so close between the two silent immortals that he thought he could feel their cold skin drawing the heat from his body； they reached another empty corridor； then quickly turned down into another stairwell。
They're taking me down to the tunnels； Simon thought in despair。 Down into the tunnels again。 Oh； God； down into the dark！
They stopped at last before a large door of iron…bound oak。 One of the Norns produced a great crude key from its robe and pushed it into the lock； then tugged the door open with a flick of its white wrist。 A billow of hot； smoky air pushed out； stinging Simon's nose and eyes。
He wavered stupidly for a long moment； waiting for whatever would happen next。 At last he looked up。 The Norns' flat； expressionless black eyes stared back at him。 Was this the prison chamber； he wondered？ Or was this the place where they threw the bodies of their victims？
He found the strength to speak。 〃If you want me to go in there； then you might as well make me go in。〃 He stiffened his muscles to resist。
One of the Norns gave him a push。 Simon caught at the door and teetered for a moment on the threshold； then overbalanced and toppled through into emptiness。
There was no floor。
A moment later he discovered that there was a floor； but that it was several cubits lower than the doorway。 He hit on broken stone and tumbled forward with a shout of startlement and pain。 He lay for a moment； panting； and stared up at the play of firelight across the surprisingly high ceiling。 The air was full of strange hissing noises。 The lock clanked overhead as the key was turned。
Simon rolled over and found that he was not alone in this place。 A half…dozen strangely clad men…if they were men： their faces were almost entirely covered by dirty rags…stood a short distance away； staring at him。 They made no move toward him。 If they were torturers； Simon thought； they must be tired of their work。
Beyond them lay a large cavern that seemed to have been fitted for animals rather than men。 A few ragged blankets were piled against the walls like empty nests； a trough of water； reflecting the scarlet glow； seemed full of molten metal。 Instead of a solid stone wall； which Simon would have expected to see at the back of a prison chamber； the far side of the cavern was an opening into some bigger place beyond； a great space full of flickering； fiery light。 Somewhere a pained voice cried out。
He stared； amazed。 Had he been carried all the way down to the flame pits of Hell？ Or had the Norns built their own version to torment their Aedonite prisoners？
The figures before him； which had been standing stolidly as grazing animals； suddenly dispersed and moved quickly to the sides of the cavern。 Simon saw a terrifyingly familiar silhouette appear in the open space between the two caverns。 Without thinking； he scuttled to one side and pushed himself back into a shadowed recess； then pulled a stinking blanket up to his eyes。
Pryrates still had his back to the smaller
