fs.thethirdbookofswords-第17章

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　There　was　a　momentary　howling　in　the　air。　Simultaneously　there　came　a　tornado…blast　of　wind；　lasting　only　for　an　instant。　Mark　caught　a　last　shred　of　munication　from　the　thing　that　challenged　him　…　it　was　outraged；　it　had　definitely　identified　him　as　an　imposter。　But　that　did　not　matter。　The　demon　could　do　nothing　about　it；　for　in　the　next　instant　it　was　gone；　gone　instantaneously；　as　if　yanked　away　on　invisible　steel　cables　that　extended　to　infinity。
　Now　the　air　above　Mark　was　quiet　and　clear；　but　moments　passed　before　his　senses；　jarred　by　the　encounter；　returned　to　normal。　He　realized　that　he　had　stumbled　and　almost　fallen；　and　that　his　body　was　bent　over；　hands　halfway　outstretched　in　front　of　him；　as　if　to　avoid　searing　heat　or　ward　off　dreadful　danger。　It　had　been　a　very　near　thing　indeed。
　Hastily　he　drew　himself　erect；　looking　around　carefully。　Wherever　the　demon　had　gone；　there　was　no　sign　it　was　ing　back。　A　few　people　were　standing；　idly　or　in　conversation；　near　the　front　of　the　pavilion；　and　he　supposed　that　at　least　some　of　them　must　have　noticed　something　of　the　challenge　and　his　response。　But　all　of　them；　as　far　as　Mark　could　tell；　were　going　on　about　their　business　as　if　nothing　at　all　out　of　the　ordinary　had　taken　place。　Maybe；　he　thought；　that　was　the　necessary　attitude　here；　in　what　must　be　a　constant　center　of　intrigue。
　Mark　walked　on。　Having　now　passed　the　prison　cages　and　the　reviewing　stand；　he　was　within　a　few　paces　of　the　huge　pavilion；　by　all　indications　the　tent　of　Vilkata　himself。　Having　e　this　far；　Mark　swore　that　he　was　going　forward。　Two　human　sentries　flanked　the　central　doorway　of　the　huge　tent；　but　to　his　relief　these　only　offered　him　deep　bows　as　he　approached。　Without　responding　he　passed　between　them；　and　into　a　shaded　entry。
　Cool　perfumed　lair；　doubtless　provided　by　some　means　of　magic；　wafted　about　him。　Mark　paused；　letting　his　eyes　adjust　to　the　relative　gloom；　and　he　had　a　moment　in　which　to　wonder：　How　could　any　spell　as　simple　as　the　one　he　had　just　used；　recited　by　a　mundane　non…magician　like　himself；　repel　even　the　weakest　demon？　And　what　a　repulsion！　Repulsion　was　the　wrong　word。　It　had　been　instant　banishment；　as　if　by　catapult。
　His　puzzlement　was　not　new；　essentially　the　same　question　had　been　nagging　at　him　off　and　on　for　the　past　four　years；　ever　since　a　similar　experience　in　the　Blue　Temple　treasure　vaults。　Mark　had　recounted　that　event　to　several　trusted　magicians　in　the　meantime；　and　none　had　given　him　a　satisfactory　explanation；　though　they　had　all　found　the　occurrence　extremely　interesting。
　He　was　not　going　to　have　time　to　ponder　the　matter　now。
　From　just　inside　the　inner　doorway　of　the　tent　he　could　hear　voices；　five　or　six　of　them　perhaps；　men's　and　women's　mixed；　chanting　softly　what　Mark　took　to　be　words　of　magic。　The　voices　came　wafting　out　with　the　cool　air　and　the　perfume；　some　kind　of　incense　burning。　There　was　another　odor　mingled　with　it　now；　one　not　intrinsically　unpleasant；　but　when　Mark　thought　that　he　recognized　it；　the　strength　seemed　to　drain　from　his　arms　and　legs；　making　it　momentarily　impossible　to　go　on。　He　thought　that　he　could　recognize　the　smell　of　burning　human　flesh。
　Ardneh　be　with　me；　Mark　prayed　mechanically；　and　wished　even　more　ardently　that　living；　solid　Draffut　could　be　with　him　also。　Then　he　put　back　a　heavy　curtain　with　his　hand；　and　made　himself　walk　forward　into　the　next　chamber　of　the　tent。　A　moment　later　he　wished　that　he　had　not。
　The　human　body　fastened　to　the　stone　altar…table　was　not　dead；　for　it　still　moved　within　the　limits　of　its　bonds；　but　it　had　somehow　been　deprived　of　the　power　to　cry　out。　Yesterday　it　had　probably　been　young；　whether　it　had　then　been　male　or　female　was　no　longer　easy　to　determine；　in　the　dim　light　of　the　smoking　lamp　that　hung　above　the　altar。　Around　the　altar　half　a　dozen　magicians　of　both　sexes　were　gathered；　various　implements　of　torture　in　their　hands。　There　was　a　lot　of　blood；　most　of　it　neatly　confined　to　the　altar　itself；　where　carved　troughs　and　channels　drained　it　away。　Near　the　altar　stood　a　small　brazier；　with　the　insulated　handles　of　more　torture…tools　protruding　from　the　glow　of　coals。
　Mark　had　seen　bad　things　before；　in　dungeons　and　in　war；　still　he　had　to　wait　for　a　moment　after　entering。　He　closed　his　eyes；　gripping　tightly　the　hilt　of　Sightblinder；　cursing　the　Sword　for　what　it　had　let　him　see　when　he　looked　at　the　victim。　He　knew　a　powerful　urge　to　draw　the　Sword；　and　slaughter　these　villains　where　they　stood。　But　a　second　thought　assured　him　that　it　would　not　be　easy　to　acplish　that。　The　air　in　here　was　thick　with　familiars　and　other　powers；　so　thick　that　even　a　mundane　could　hardly　fail　to　be　aware　of　them。　Those　powers　might　now　be　deceived　about　Mark；　but　let　him　draw　a　sword　and　they　would　take　note；　and　he　thought　they　would　not　permit　their　human　masters　to　be　slaughtered。
　And　there　was　something　more　important；　he　was　beginning　to　realize；　that　he　must　acplish　here　before　he　died。
　The　half　dozen　who　were　gathered　around　the　altar…table；　garbed　and　hooded　in　various　binations　of　gold　and　black；　paid　little　attention　to　Mark　when　he　entered。　One　of　their　number　did　glance　in　the　newer's　direction；　taking　a　moment　from　the　chant　between　the　great　slow　pulse…beats　of　its　hideous　magic　in　the　air。
　〃Thought　you　were　off　somewhere　else；〃　a　man's　voice　casually　remarked。
　〃Not　just　now；〃　said　Mark。　He　exerted　a　great　effort　trying　to　make　his　own　voice　equally　casual。　Whatever　the　other　heard　from　him　was　evidently　acceptable；　for　the　man　with　a　brief　smile　under　his　hood　turned　back　to　his　foul　task。
　Mark　stood　waiting；　praying　mechanically　for　a　sign　from　somewhere　as　to　what　he　ought　to　do　next。　He　did　not　want　to　retreat；　and　he　hesitated　to　move　on　into　the　interior　doorway　he　saw　at　the　other　side　of　the　torture　chamber。　And　he　continued　to　wish　devoutly　that　he　could　somehow　get　out　of　sight　of　what　was　on　this　table。
　Presently　one　of　the　women　in　the　group　turned　her　face　toward　him。　She　asked；　in　a　sharp；　businesslike　voice：　〃This　area　is　secure？〃
　Not　knowing　what　else　to　do；　Mark　answered　affirmatively；　with　a　grave　inclination　of　his　head。
　The　woman　frowned　at　him　lightly。　〃I　thought　I　had　detected　some　possible　intrusion；　very　well　masked。。。　but　you　are　the　expert　there。　And　I　thought　also　that　our　next　subject；　the　one　still　in　the　cage　outside；　possesses　some　peculiar　protection。　But　we　shall　see　when　we　have　her　in　here。〃　Briskly　the　woman　turned　back　to　her　work。
　Mark；　with　only　a　general　idea　of　what　she　must　be　talking　about；　nodded　again。　And　again　his　answer　appeared　to　be　acceptable。　Whoever　they　took　him　for；　none　of　these　people　seemed　to　think　it　especially　odd　that　he　should　continue　to　stand　there；　watching　them　or　looking　away。　He　continued　standing；　waiting　for　he　knew　not　what。
　Quite　soon　another　one　of　the　men　turned　away　from　the　altar；　as　if　his　portion　of　the　bloody　ritual　were　now　plete。　This　man　left　the　group　and　approached　a　table　near　Mark；　there　to　deposit　his　small　bloodstained　knife　in　a　black　bowl　of　some　liquid　that　splashed　musically　when　the　small　implement　went　in。
　Then；　standing　very　near　Mark　and　speaking　in　a　low　voice；　this　man　asked　him；　〃e；　tell　me　…　why　did　he　really　summon　you　back　here？〃　When　there　was　no　immediate　reply；　the　man　added；　in　a　voice　suddenly　filled　with　injured　pride；　〃All　right　then；　be　silent；　as　befits　your　office。　Only　don't　expect　those　you　keep　in　the　dark　now　to　be　eager　to　help　you　later；　when。。。〃
　The　man　broke　off　abruptly　at　that　point。　It　was　as　if　he　had　been　warned　of　something；　by　some　signal　that　Mark　totally　failed　to　perceive。　The　man　turned　his　face　away　from　Mark；　and　toward　the　doorway　that　Mark　had　supposed　must　lead　into　the　inner　chambers　of　the　pavilion。
　Meanwhile　one　of　those　still　at　the　altar　warned；　in　a　low　voice：　〃The　Master　es。〃　All　present　…　except　of　course　the　sacrificial　victim　…　fell　to　their　knees；　Mark　moving　a　beat　behind　the　rest。
　It　was　Vilkata　himself　who　emerged　a　moment　later　through　the　curtains　of　sable　black。　Mark　had　never　laid　eyes　on　the　Dark　King　before；　but　still　he　could　not　doubt　for　an　instant　who　this　was。