uleg.thefarthestshore-第5章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


t　him。。。　But　there　imagination　failed；　for　he　had　not　seen　that　dark　face　smile。
　　In　the　morning　he　rose；　feeling　that　yesterday　he　had　been　a　boy；　today　he　was　a　man。　He　was　ready　for　anything。　But　when　it　came；　he　stood　gaping。　〃The　Archmage　wishes　to　speak　to　you；　Prince　Arren；〃　said　a　little　novice…lad　at　his　doorway；　who　waited　a　moment　and　ran　off　before　Arren　could　collect　his　wits　to　answer。
　　He　made　his　way　down　the　tower　staircase　and　through　stone　corridors　toward　the　Fountain　Court；　not　knowing　where　he　should　go。　An　old　man　met　him　in　the　corridor；　smiling　so　that　deep　furrows　ran　down　his　cheeks　from　nose　to　chin：　the　same　who　had　met　him　yesterday　at　the　door　of　the　Great　House　when　he　first　came　up　from　the　harbor；　and　had　required　him　to　say　his　true　name　before　he　entered。　〃e　this　way；〃　said　the　Master　Doorkeeper。
　　The　halls　and　passages　in　this　part　of　the　building　were　silent；　empty　of　the　rush　and　racket　of　the　boys　that　enlivened　the　rest。　Here　one　felt　the　great　age　of　the　walls。　The　enchantment　with　which　the　ancient　stones　were　laid　and　protected　was　here　palpable。　Runes　were　graven　on　the　walls　at　intervals；　cut　deep；　some　inlaid　with　silver。　Arren　had　learned　the　Runes　of　Hardie　from　his　father；　but　none　of　these　did　he　know；　though　certain　of　them　seemed　to　hold　a　meaning　that　he　almost　knew；　or　had　known　and　could　not　quite　remember。
　　〃Here　you　are；　lad；〃　said　the　Doorkeeper；　who　made　no　account　of　titles　such　as　Lord　or　Prince。　Arren　followed　him　into　a　long；　low…beamed　room；　where　on　one　side　a　fire　burnt　in　a　stone　hearth；　its　flames　reflecting　in　the　oaken　floor；　and　on　the　other　side　pointed　windows　let　in　the　cold；　soft　light　of　fog。　Before　the　hearth　stood　a　group　of　men。　All　looked　at　him　as　he　entered；　but　among　them　he　saw　only　one；　the　Archmage。　He　stopped；　and　bowed；　and　stood　dumb。
　　〃These　are　the　Masters　of　Roke；　Arren；〃　said　the　Archmage；　〃seven　of　the　nine。　The　Patterner　will　not　leave　his　Grove；　and　the　Namer　is　in　his　tower；　thirty　miles　to　the　north。　All　of　them　know　your　errand　here。　My　lords；　this　is　the　son　of　Morred。〃
　　No　pride　roused　in　Arren　at　that　phrase；　but　only　a　kind　of　dread。　He　was　proud　of　his　lineage；　but　thought　of　himself　only　as　an　heir　of　princes；　one　of　the　House　of　Enlad。　Morred；　from　whom　that　house　descended；　had　been　dead　two　thousand　years。　His　deeds　were　matter　of　legends；　not　of　this　present　world。　It　was　as　if　the　Archmage　had　named　him　son　of　myth；　inheritor　of　dreams。
　　He　did　not　dare　look　up　at　the　faces　of　the　eight　mages。　He　stared　at　the　iron…shod　foot　of　the　Archmage's　staff；　and　felt　the　blood　ringing　in　his　ears。
　　〃e；　let　us　breakfast　together；〃　said　the　Archmage；　and　led　them　to　a　table　set　beneath　the　windows。　There　was　milk　and　sour　beer；　bread；　new　butter；　and　cheese。　Arren　sat　with　them　and　ate。
　　He　had　been　among　noblemen；　landholders；　rich　merchants；　all　his　life。　His　father's　hall　in　Berila　was　full　of　them：　men　who　owned　much；　who　bought　and　sold　much；　who　were　rich　in　the　things　of　the　world。　They　ate　meat　and　drank　wine　and　talked　loudly；　many　disputed；　many　flattered；　most　sought　something　for　themselves。　Young　as　he　was；　Arren　had　learned　a　good　deal　about　the　manners　and　disguises　of　humanity。　But　he　had　never　been　among　such　men　as　these。　They　ate　bread　and　talked　little；　and　their　faces　were　quiet。　If　they　sought　something；　it　was　not　for　themselves。　Yet　they　were　men　of　great　power：　that；　too；　Arren　recognized。
　　Sparrowhawk　the　Archmage　sat　at　the　head　of　the　table　and　seemed　to　listen　to　what　was　said；　and　yet　there　was　a　silence　about　him；　and　no　one　spoke　to　him。　Arren　was　let　alone　also；　so　that　he　had　time　to　recover　himself。　On　his　left　was　the　Doorkeeper；　and　on　his　right　a　grey…haired　man　with　a　kindly　look；　who　said　to　him　at　last；　〃We　are　countrymen；　Prince　Arren。　I　was　born　in　eastern　Enlad；　by　the　Forest　of　Aol。〃
　　〃I　have　hunted　in　that　forest；〃　Arren　replied；　and　they　spoke　together　a　little　of　the　woods　and　towns　of　the　Isle　of　the　Myths；　so　that　Arren　was　forted　by　the　memory　of　his　home。
　　When　the　meal　was　done；　they　drew　together　once　more　before　the　hearth；　some　sitting　and　some　standing；　and　there　was　a　little　silence。
　　〃Last　night；〃　the　Archmage　said；　〃we　met　in　council。　Long　we　talked；　yet　resolved　nothing。　I　would　hear　you　say　now；　in　the　morning　light；　whether　you　uphold　or　gainsay　your　judgment　of　the　night。〃
　　〃That　we　resolved　nothing；〃　said　the　Master　Herbal；　a　stocky；　dark…skinned　man　with　calm　eyes；　〃is　itself　a　judgment。　In　the　Grove　are　patterns　found；　but　we　found　nothing　there　but　argument。〃
　　〃Only　because　we　could　not　see　the　pattern　plain；〃　said　the　grey…haired　mage　of　Enlad；　the　Master　Changer。　〃We　do　not　know　enough。　Rumors　from　Wathort；　news　from　Enlad。　Strange　news；　and　should　be　looked　to。　But　to　raise　a　great　fear　on　so　little　a　foundation　is　unneedful。　Our　power　is　not　threatened　only　because　a　few　sorcerers　have　forgotten　their　spells。〃
　　〃So　say　I；〃　said　a　lean；　keen…eyed　man；　the　Master　Windkey。　〃Have　we　not　all　our　powers？　Do　not　the　trees　of　the　Grove　grow　and　put　forth　leaves？　Do　not　the　storms　of　heaven　obey　our　word？　Who　can　fear　for　the　art　of　wizardry；　which　is　the　oldest　of　the　arts　of　man？〃
　　〃No　man；〃　said　the　Master　Summoner；　deep…voiced　and　tall；　young；　with　a　dark　and　noble　face；　〃no　man；　no　power；　can　bind　the　action　of　wizardry　or　still　the　words　of　power。　For　they　are　the　very　words　of　the　Making；　and　one　who　could　silence　them　could　unmake　the　world。〃
　　〃Aye；　and　one　who　could　do　that　would　not　be　on　Wathort　or　Narveduen；〃　said　the　Changer。　〃He　would　be　here　at　the　gates　of　Roke；　and　the　end　of　the　world　would　be　at　hand！　We've　not　e　to　that　pass　yet〃
　　〃Yet　there　is　something　wrong；〃　said　another；　and　they　looked　at　him：　deep…chested；　solid　as　an　oaken　cask；　he　sat　by　the　fire；　and　the　voice　came　from　him　soft　and　true　as　the　note　of　a　great　bell。　He　was　the　Master　Chanter。　〃Where　is　the　king　that　should　be　in　Havnor？　Roke　is　not　the　heart　of　the　world。　That　tower　is；　on　which　the　sword　of　Erreth…Akbe　is　set；　and　in　which　stands　the　throne　of　Serriadh；　of　Akambar；　of　Maharion。　Eight　hundred　years　has　the　heart　of　the　world　been　empty！　We　have　the　crown；　but　no　king　to　wear　it。　We　have　the　Lost　Rune；　the　King's　Rune；　the　Rune　of　Peace；　restored　to　us；　but　have　we　peace？　Let　there　be　a　king　upon　the　throne；　and　we　will　have　peace；　and　even　in　the　farthest　Reaches　the　sorcerers　will　practice　their　arts　with　untroubled　mind；　and　there　will　be　order　and　a　due　season　to　all　things。〃
　　〃Aye；〃　said　the　Master　Hand；　a　slight；　quick　man；　modest　of　bearing　but　with　clear　and　seeing　eyes。　〃I　am　with　you；　Chanter。　What　wonder　that　wizardry　goes　astray；　when　all　else　goes　astray？　If　the　whole　flock　wander；　will　our　black　sheep　stay　by　the　fold？〃
　　At　that　the　Doorkeeper　laughed；　but　he　said　nothing。
　　〃Then　to　you　all；〃　said　the　Archmage；　it　seems　that　there　is　nothing　very　wrong；　or　if；　there　is；　it　lies　in　this；　that　our　lands　are　ungoverned　or　ill…governed；　so　that　all　the　arts　and　high　skills　of　men　suffer　from　neglect。　With　that　much　I　agree。　Indeed　it　is　because　the　South　is　all　but　lost　to　peaceful　merce　that　we　must　depend　on　rumor；　and　who　has　any　safe　word　from　the　West　Reach；　save　this　from　Narveduen？　If　ships　went　forth　and　came　back　safely　as　of　old；　if　our　lands　of　Earthsea　were　well…knit；　we　might　know　how　things　stand　in　the　remote　places；　and　so　could　act。　And　I　think　we　would　act！　For；　my　lords；　when　the　Prince　of　Enlad　tells　us　that　he　spoke　the　words　of　the　Making　in　a　spell　and　yet　did　not　know　their　meaning　as　he　spoke　them；　when　the　Master　Patterner　says　that　there　is　fear　at　the　roots　and　will　say　no　more：　is　this　so　little　a　foundation　for　anxiety？　When　a　storm　begins；　it　is　only　a　little　cloud　on　the　horizon。〃
　　〃You　have　a　sense　for　the　black　things；　Sparrowhawk；〃　said　the　Doorkeeper。　〃You　ever　did。　Say　what　you　think　is　wrong。〃
　　〃I　do　not　know。　There　is　a　weakening　of　power。　There　is　a　want　of　resolution。　There　is　a　dimming　of　the　sun。　I　feel；　my　lords…　I　feel　as　if　we　who　sit　here　talking；　were　all　wounded　mortally；　and　while　we　talk　and　talk　our　blood　runs　softly　from　our　veins。。。〃
　　〃And　you