uleg.thetombsofatuan-第15章

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　　〃Yes；〃　Kossil　said；　as　if　deliberating。　〃But　how　will　you　catch　him；　mistress？　That　is　chancy。　There　is　no　chance　about　the　other。　Is　there　not　a　room　full　of　bones；　somewhere　in　the　Labyrinth；　bones　of　men　who　entered　it　and　did　not　leave　it？。。。　Let　the　Dark　Ones　punish　him　in　their　own　way；　in　their　own　ways；　the　black　ways　of　the　Labyrinth。　It　is　a　cruel　death；　thirst。〃
　　〃I　know；〃　the　girl　said。　She　turned　and　went　out　into　the　night；　pulling　her　hood　up　over　her　head　against　the　hissing；　icy　wind。　Did　she　not　know？
　　It　had　been　childish　of　her；　and　stupid；　to　e　to　Kossil。　She　would　get　no　help　there。　Kossil　herself　knew　nothing；　all　she　knew　was　cold　waiting　and　death　at　the　end　of　it。　She　did　not　understand。　She　did　not　see　that　the　man　must　be　found。　It　must　not　be　the　same　as　with　those　others。　She　could　not　bear　that　again。　Since　there　must　be　death　let　it　be　swift；　in　daylight。　Surely　it　would　be　more　fitting　that　this　thief；　the　first　man　in　centuries　brave　enough　to　try　to　rob　the　Tombs；　should　die　by　sword's　edge。　He　did　not　even　have　an　immortal　soul　to　be　reborn。　His　ghost　would　go　whining　through　the　corridors。　He　could　not　be　let　die　of　thirst　there　alone　in　the　dark。
　　Arha　slept　very　little　that　night。　The　next　day　was　filled　with　rites　and　duties。　She　spent　the　night　going；　silent　and　without　lantern；　from　one　spy　hole　to　another　in　all　the　dark　buildings　of　the　Place；　and　on　the　windswept　hill。　She　went　to　the　Small　House　to　bed　at　last；　two　or　three　hours　before　dawn；　but　still　she　could　not　rest。　On　the　third　day；　late　in　the　afternoon；　she　walked　out　alone　onto　the　desert；　towards　the　river　that　now　lay　low　in　the　winter　drought；　with　ice　among　the　reeds。　A　memory　had　e　to　her　that　once；　in　the　autumn；　she　had　gone　very　far　in　the　Labyrinth；　past　the　Six…Cross；　and　all　along　one　long　curving　corridor　she　had　heard　behind　the　stones　the　sound　of　running　water。　Might　not　a　man　athirst；　if　he　came　that　way；　stay　there？　There　were　spy　holes　even　out　here；　she　had　to　search　for　them；　but　Thar　had　shown　her　each　one；　last　year；　and　she　refound　them　without　much　trouble。　Her　recall　of　place　and　shape　was　like　that　of　a　blind　person：　she　seemed　to　feel　her　way　to　each　hidden　spot；　rather　than　to　look　for　it。　At　the　second；　the　farthest　of　all　from　the　Tombs；　when　she　pulled　up　her　hood　to　cut　out　light；　and　put　her　eye　to　the　hole　cut　in　a　flat　pan　of　rock；　she　saw　below　her　the　dim　glimmer　of　the　wizardly　light。
　　He　was　there；　half　out　of　sight。　The　spy　hole　looked　down　at　the　very　end　of　the　blind　alley。　She　could　see　only　his　back；　and　bent　neck；　and　right　arm。　He　sat　near　the　corner　of　the　walls；　and　was　picking　at　the　stones　with　his　knife；　a　short　dagger　of　steel　with　a　jeweled　grip。　The　blade　of　it　was　broken　short。　The　broken　point　lay　directly　under　the　spy　hole。　He　had　snapped　it　trying　to　pry　apart　the　stones；　to　get　at　the　water　he　could　hear　running；　clear　and　murmurous　in　that　dead　stillness　under　earth；　on　the　other　side　of　the　impenetrable　wall。
　　His　movements　were　listless。　He　was　very　different；　after　these　three　nights　and　days；　from　the　figure　that　had　stood　lithe　and　calm　before　the　iron　door　and　laughed　at　his　own　defeat。　He　was　still　obstinate；　but　the　power　was　gone　out　of　him。　He　had　no　spell　to　stir　those　stones　aside；　but　must　use　his　useless　knife。　Even　his　sorcerer's　light　was　wan　and　dim。　As　Arha　watched；　the　light　flickered；　the　man's　head　jerked　and　he　dropped　the　dagger。　Then　doggedly　he　picked　it　up　and　tried　to　force　the　broken　blade　between　the　stones。
　　Lying　among　ice…bound　reeds　on　the　riverbank；　unconscious　of　where　she　was　or　what　she　was　doing；　Arha　put　her　mouth　to　the　cold　mouth　of　rock；　and　cupped　her　hands　around　to　hold　the　sound　in。　〃Wizard！〃　she　said；　and　her　voice　slipping　down　the　stone　throat　whispered　coldly　in　the　tunnel　underground。
　　The　man　started　and　scrambled　to　his　feet；　so　going　out　of　the　circle　of　her　vision　when　she　looked　for　him。　She　put　her　mouth　to　the　spy　hole　again　and　said；　〃Go　back　along　the　river　wall　to　the　second　turn。　The　first　turn　right；　miss　one；　then　right　again。　At　the　Six　Ways；　right　again。　Then　left；　and　right；　and　left；　and　right。　Stay　there　in　the　Painted　Room。〃
　　As　she　moved　to　look　again；　she　must　have　let　a　shaft　of　daylight　shoot　through　the　spy　hole　into　the　tunnel　for　a　moment；　for　when　she　looked　he　was　back　in　the　circle　of　her　vision　and　staring　upwards　at　the　opening。　His　face；　which　she　now　saw　to　be　scarred　in　some　way；　was　strained　and　eager。　The　lips　were　parched　and　black；　the　eyes　bright。　He　raised　his　staff；　bringing　the　light　closer　and　closer　to　her　eyes。　Frightened；　she　drew　back；　stopped　the　spy　hole　with　its　rock　lid　and　litter　of　covering　stones；　rose；　and　went　back　swiftly　to　the　Place。　She　found　her　hands　were　shaky；　and　sometimes　a　giddiness　swept　over　her　as　she　walked。　She　did　not　know　what　to　do。
　　If　he　followed　the　directions　she　had　given　him；　he　would　e　back　in　the　direction　of　the　iron　door；　to　the　room　of　pictures。　There　was　nothing　there；　no　reason　for　him　to　go　there。　There　was　a　spy　hole　in　the　ceiling　of　the　Painted　Room；　a　good　one；　in　the　treasury　of　the　Twin　Gods'　temple；　perhaps　that　was　why　she　had　thought　of　it。　She　did　not　know。　Why　had　she　spoken　to　him？
　　She　could　let　a　little　water　for　him　down　one　of　the　spy　holes；　and　then　call　him　to　that　place。　That　would　keep　him　alive　longer。　As　long　as　she　pleased；　indeed。　If　she　put　down　water　and　a　little　food　now　and　then；　he　would　go　on　and　on；　days；　months；　wandering　in　the　Labyrinth：　and　she　could　watch　him　through　the　spy　holes；　and　tell　him　where　water　was　to　be　found；　and　sometimes　tell　him　falsely　so　he　would　go　in　vain；　but　he　would　always　have　to　go。　That　would　teach　him　to　mock　the　Nameless　Ones；　to　swagger　his　foolish　manhood　in　the　burial　places　of　the　Immortal　Dead！
　　But　so　long　as　he　was　there；　she　would　never　be　able　to　enter　the　Labyrinth　herself。　Why　not？　she　asked　herself；　and　replied…　Because　he　might　escape　by　the　iron　door；　which　I　must　leave　open　behind　me。。。　But　he　could　escape　no　farther　than　the　Undertomb。　The　truth　was　that　she　was　afraid　to　face　him。　She　was　afraid　of　his　power；　the　arts　he　had　used　to　enter　the　Undertomb；　the　sorcery　that　kept　that　light　burning。　And　yet；　was　that　so　much　to　be　feared？　The　powers　that　ruled　in　the　dark　places　were　on　her　side；　not　his。　Plainly　he　could　not　do　much；　there　in　the　realm　of　the　Nameless　Ones。　He　had　not　opened　the　iron　door；　he　had　not　summoned　magic　food；　nor　brought　water　through　the　wall；　nor　conjured　up　some　demon　monster　to　break　down　the　walls；　all　of　which　she　had　feared　he　might　be　able　to　do。　He　had　not　even　found　his　way　in　three　days'　wandering　to　the　door　of　the　Great　Treasury；　which　surely　he　had　sought。　Arha　herself　had　never　yet　pursued　Thar's　directions　to　that　room；　putting　off　and　putting　off　the　journey　out　of　a　certain　awe；　a　reluctance；　a　sense　that　the　time　had　not　yet　e。
　　Now　she　thought；　why　should　he　not　go　that　journey　for　her？　He　could　look　all　he　liked　at　the　treasures　of　the　Tombs。　Much　good　they　would　do　him！　She　could　jeer　at　him；　and　tell　him　to　eat　the　gold；　and　drink　the　diamonds。
　　With　the　nervous；　feverish　hastiness　that　had　possessed　her　all　these　three　days；　she　ran　to　the　Twin　Gods'　temple；　unlocked　its　little　vaulted　treasury；　and　uncovered　the　well…hidden　spy　hole　in　the　floor。
　　The　Painted　Room　was　below；　but　pitch　dark。　The　way　the　man　must　follow　in　the　maze　was　much　more　roundabout；　miles　longer　perhaps；　she　had　forgotten　that。　And　no　doubt　he　was　weakened　and　not　going　fast。　Perhaps　he　would　forget　her　directions　and　take　the　wrong　turning。　Few　people　could　remember　directions　from　one　hearing　of　them；　as　she　could。　Perhaps　he　did　not　even　understand　the　tongue　she　spoke。　If　so；　let　him　wander　till　he　fell　down　and　died　in　the　dark；　the　fool；　the　foreigner；　the　unbeliever。　Let　his　ghost　whine　down　the　stone　roads　of　the　Tombs　of　Atuan　until　the　darkness　ate　even　it。。。
　　Next　morning　very　early；　after　a　night　of　little　sleep　and　evil　dreams；　she　returned　to　the　spy　hole　in　the　little　temple。　She　looked　down　and　saw　nothing：　blackness。　She　lowered　a　candle　burning　in　a　little　tin　lante