tg.stone of tears- 第142部分

　
　Following　behind　the　three；　they　passed　through　warmly　decorated　passageways　and　halls。　As　far　as　Richard　was　concerned；　he　was　in　hostile　territory。　Threat　always　caused　the　magic　of　the　Sword　of　Truth　to　try　to　seep　into　him；　to　protect　him。　He　let　in　a　trickle；　keeping　the　anger　on　a　slow　burn。　Sister　Verna　glanced　sideways　occasionally；　as　if　measuring　the　growth　of　his　glower。
　
　At　last；　they　went　through　a　pair　of　thick　walnut　doors　that　opened　into　a　vast　chamber。　They　had　to　pass　under　a　low　ceiling　and　between　white　columns　with　gold　capitals；　before　entering　under　a　huge；　vaulted　dome　painted　with　immense　scenes　of　people　in　robes　surrounding　a　glowing　figure。　Two　levels　of　balconies　with；　ornate　stone　railings　ringed　the　circular　room。　Stained…glass　windows　lit　the　top　balcony　from　behind。　The　floor　of　the　room　was　made　up　of　small；　light　and　dark　wood　squares　laid　out　in　a　zigzag　pattern。　The　hum　of　well　over　a　hundred　voices　echoed　around　the　chamber。
　
　Women　stood　in　bunches　around　the　floor　and　more　lined　the　balconies。　Scattered　among　the　women　on　the　second　level　were　some　men　and　boys。　The　women；　all　Sisters　of　the　Light；　he　presumed；　were　dressed　in　finery。　There　seemed　to　be　no　pattern；　their　dresses　were　of　every　color；　with　designs　ranging　from　conservative　to　revealing。　The　boys　and　men　were　dressed　in　everything　from　plain　robes　to　coats　as　elaborate　as　Richard　imagined　any　lord　or　prince　would　wear。
　
　The　buzz　of　talking　died　out　as　everyone　began　turning　to　the　new　arrivals。　As　the　room　fell　to　silence；　applause　started；　swelling　into　a　roar。
　
　Sister　Phoebe　took　a　few　steps　toward　the　center　of　the　room；　raising　her　hand；　calling　for　silence。　The　applause　died　out　in　spurts。
　
　‘Sisters；’　Sister　Phoebe　said；　her　voice　trembling　with　excitement；　‘please　wele　Sister　Verna　home。’　The　applause　roared　again　and；　after　a　few　moments；　the　hand　brought　it　to　silence　once　more。　‘And　may　I　present　our　newest　student；　our　newest　child　of　the　Creator；　our　newest　charge。’　She　turned；　holding　her　hand　out；　wiggling　her　fingers；　indicating　she　wanted　Richard　to　step　forward。　He　took　three　strides　to　her；　Sister　Verna　going　with　him。
　
　Sister　Phoebe　leaned　close　and　whispered。　‘Richard　。。。？　Do　you　have　any　more　to　your　name？’
　
　Richard　hesitated　a　moment。　‘Cypher。’
　
　She　turned　back　to　the　crowd。　‘Please　wele　Richard　Cypher　to　the　Palace　of　the　Prophets。’
　
　The　clapping　started　again。　Richard　glowered　as　every　face　watched　him。　Women　near　pressed　closer；　to　get　a　better　look　at　him。　There　were　women　of　all　ages　and　descriptions　in　the　crowd；　ranging　from　some　who　looked　old　enough　to　be　kindly　grandmothers　to　some　hardly　old　enough　to　be　called　women；　with　those　of　every　age　in　between。　They　ranged　from　plump　to　skinny；　with　hair　as　different　as　their　dress；　with　every　color　from　blonde　to　black。　Their　eyes；　too；　were　of　every　color。
　
　He　noticed　one　woman　who　stood　near　him。　She　had　a　warm　smile　on　her　reed…thin　lips；　and　strange；　pale　blue　eyes　with　violet　flecks　through　them。　She　was　looking　at　him　as　if　he　were　an　old；　dear　friend；　whom　she　loved；　and　hadn’t　seen　in　years。　She　was　applauding　enthusiastically；　and　elbowing　a　haughty　woman　next　to　her　to　join　in　the　clapping；　until　the　other　finally　did。
　
　Richard　stood　with　his　arms　at　his　sides　as　he　studied　the　layout　of　the　room；　noting　exits；　passageways；　and　placement　of　guards。　As　the　applause　died　out；　a　young　woman　in　a　dress　the　same　shade　of　blue　as　Kahlan’s　wedding　dress　worked　her　way　through　the　crowd。　The　blue　dress　had　a　round　neck；　decorated　with　white　lace　that　ran　down　to　the　narrow　waist　and　matched　that　on　the　cuffs。
　
　She　approached；　ing　to　a　halt　right　in　front　of　him。　Perhaps　five　years　younger　than　he；　and　a　head　shorter；　she　had　full；　soft　brown　hair　that　reached　to　her　shoulders；　and　big；　brown　eyes。
　
　She　gaped　at　him。　With　each　slow　breath；　her　bosom　swelled　at　the　lace。　Her　hand　floated　up。　Her　delicate　fingers　brushed　his　cheek；　and　stroked　down　his　beard。　She　seemed　transfixed　as　she　stared　up　at　him；　stroking　his　beard。
　
　The　Creator　has　indeed　heard　my　prayers；’　she　whispered　to　herself。
　
　She　seemed　to　suddenly　remember　where　she　was　and　snatched　her　hand　back。　Her　face　flushed　red。
　
　‘I’m　。。。　I’m；’　she　stammered。　She　regained　her　posure；　her　face　recovering　its　smooth　plexion。　She　clasped　her　hands　before　herself　and　turned；　as　if　nothing　had　happened；　to　address　Sister　Verna。　‘I　am　Pasha　Maes；　novice；　third　rank。　I　am　next　in　line　to　be　named。　I　have　been　placed　in　charge　of　Richard。’
　
　Sister　Verna　gave　her　a　small；　tight　smile。　‘I　think　I　remember　you；　Pasha。　I’m　pleased　to　see　you　have　studied　hard　and　done　well。　Richard　is　passed　out　of　my　hands；　now；　and　into　yours。　May　the　Creator　gently　hold　you　both　in　His　hands。’
　
　Pasha　smiled　proudly　and　then　turned　to　Richard。　She　cast　a　glance　down　the　length　of　him。　She　looked　up；　batted　her　eyelashes　at　him；　and　gave　him　a　warm　smile。
　
　‘I’m　pleased　to　meet　you；　young　man。　My　name　is　Pasha。　You　are　assigned　to　me。　I’m　to　help　teach　you；　help　with　whatever　else　you　may　need　in　your　studies。　I’m　a　guide　of　sorts。　Any　problems　or　questions　you　have　are　to　be　brought　to　me；　and　I　will　do　my　best　to　help　you。　You　look　like　a　bright　boy；　I’m　sure　we　are　going　to　get　along　just　fine。’
　
　Her　smile　faltered　under　the　heat　of　his　glower。　She　smiled　again　and　continued。　‘Well；　first　of　all；　Richard；　we　don’t　allow　boys　to　carry　weapons　here　at　the　Palace　of　the　Prophets。’　She　held　her　hands　out；　palms　up。　‘I’ll　take　your　sword。’
　
　The　trickle　of　rage　from　the　magic　had　turned　to　a　torrent。　‘You　are　wele　to　my　sword；　when　I　am　no　longer　breathing。’
　
　Pasha’s　gaze　flicked　to　Sister　Verna。　The　Sister　gave　a　slow；　slight　shake　of　her　head　in　stern　warning。　Pasha’s　gaze　returned　to　Richard　and　her　frown　transformed　to　a　smile。
　
　‘Well；　we’ll　talk　about　it　later。’　Her　brow　bunched　together。　‘But　you　need　to　learn　some　manners；　young　man。’
　
　Richard’s　voice　came　in　a　tone　that　took　some　of　the　color　from　Pasha’s　face。　‘Which　one　of　these　women　is　the　Prelate？’
　
　Pasha　gave　a　bubble　of　a　laugh。　‘The　Prelate　is　not　here。　She　is　much　too　busy　to　。。。’
　
　‘Take　me　to　her。’
　
　‘You　do　not　see　the　Prelate　when　you　wish。　She　sees　you　when　she　has　reason　to　see　you。　I　can　hardly　believe　Sister　Verna　has　not　taught　you　that　we　do　not　allow　our　boys　。。。’
　
　Richard　put　the　back　of　his　hand　against　her　shoulder　and　swept　her　aside　as　he　took　another　stride　into　the　room；　redirecting　his　glare　to　the　hundreds　of　eyes　watching　him。
　
　‘I　have　something　to　say。’
　
　The　vast　room　fell　to　a　hush。　From　two　different　places　in　his　mind；　the　same　thought　had　e　forward　at　the　same　time。　He　recognized　each　origin。　One　was　The　Adventures　of　Bonnie　Day；　the　book　his　father　had　given　him；　and　the　other　was　the　sword’s　magic；　the　knowledge　of　the　sword；　the　spirits　he　had　danced　with。
　
　The　memory　and　message　were　the　same：　When　you　are　outnumbered；　and　the　situation　is　hopeless；　you　have　no　option　…　you　must　attack。
　
　He　knew　what　the　collar　was　for。　His　situation　was　hopeless。　He　had　no　options。　He　let　the　quiet　ring　in　the　chamber　until　it　was　unfortable。
　
　His　fingers　tapped　his　Rada’Han。　‘As　long　as　you　keep　this　collar　on　me；　you　are　my　captors；　and　I　am　your　prisoner。’　Murmurs　hummed　in　the　air。　Richard　let　them　trail　off　before　he　went　on。　‘Since　I　have　mitted　no　aggression　against　you；　that　makes　us　enemies。　We　are　at　war。
　
　‘Sister　Verna　has　made　a　pledge　to　me　that　I　will　be　taught　to　control　the　gift；　and　when　I　have　learned　what　is　required；　I　will　be　set　free。　For　now；　as　long　as　you　keep　that　pledge；　we　have　a　truce。　But　there　are　conditions。’
　
　Richard　lifted　the　red　leather　rod　at　his　neck；　the　Agiel；　in　his　hand。　Beyond　the　rage　of　the　magic；　the　Agiel　was　only　a　dim　tingle　of　pain。　‘I　have　been　collared　before。　The　person　who　put　that　collar　on　me　brought　me　pain；　to　punish　me；　to　teach　me；　to　subdue　me。
　
　‘That　is　the　sole　purpose　of　a　collar。　You　collar　a　beast。　You　collar　your　enemies。
　
　‘I　made　her　much　the　same　offer　I　am　making　you。　I　begged　her　to　release　me。　She　would　not。　I　was　forced　to　kill　her。
　
　‘Not　one　of　you　could　ever　hope　to　be　good　enough　to　lick　her　boots。　She　did　as　she　did　because　she　was　tortured　and　broken；　made　mad　enough　to　use　a　collar　to　hurt　people。　She　did　it　against　her　nature。
　
　‘You；’　he　looked　to　all　the　eyes；　‘you　do　it　because　you　think　it　is　your　right。　You　enslave　in　the　name　of　your　Creator。　I　don’t　know　your　Creator。　The　only　one　beyond　this　world　I　know　who　would　do　as　you　do　is　the　Keeper。’　The　crowd　gasped。　‘As　far　as　I’m　concerned；　you　may　as　well　be　the　Keeper’s　disciples。
　
　‘If　you　do　as　she；　and　use　this　collar　to　bring　me　pain；　the　truce　will　be　ended。　You　may　think　you　hold　the　leash　to　this　collar；　but　I　promise　you；　if　the　truce　ends；　you　will　find　that　what　you　hold　is　a　bolt　of　lightning。’
　
　Dead…still　silence　rang　in　the　room。　Richard　rolled　up　his　left　sleeve。　He　drew　the　Sword　of　Truth。　The　distinctive　sound　of　steel　filled　the　silence。
　
　‘The　Baka　Ban　Mana　are　my　people。　They　have　agreed　to　live　in　peace　with　all　people　from　now　on。　Anyone　who　harms　one　of　them　will　answer　to　me。　If　you　do　not　accept　this；　do　not　let　the　Baka　Ban　Mana　live　in　peace；　our　truce　will　be　ended。’
　
　He　pointed　back　with　the　sword。　‘Sister　Verna　captured　me。　I　have　fought　her　every　step　of　this　journey。　She　has　done　everything　short　of　killing　me　and　draping　my　body　over　a　horse　to　get　me　here。　Though　she；　too；　is　my　captor　and　enemy；　I　owe　her　certain　debts。　If　anyone　lays　a　finger　to　her　because　of　me；　I　will　kill　that　person；　and　the　truce　will　be　ended。’
　
　From　the　corner　of　his　eye；　Richard　could　see　Sister　Verna’s　eyes　close。　Her　hand　covered　her　white　face。
　
　The　crowd　gasped　as　Richard　drew　his　sword　across　the　inside　of　his　arm。　He　turned　it；　wiping　both　sides　in　the　blood；　until　it　dripped　from　the　tip。
　
　His　knuckles　white　around　the　hilt；　he　thrust　the　blade　into　the　air。
　
　‘I　give　you　a　blood　oath！　Harm　the　Baka　Ban　Mana；　harm　Sister　Verna；　or　harm　me；　and　the　truce　will　be　ended；　and　I　promise　you　we　will　have　war！　If　we　have　war；　I　will　lay　waste　to　the　Palace　of　the　Prophets！’
　
　From　the　far　balcony；　where　Richard　couldn’t　see　its　source；　a　mocking　voice　drifted　out　over　the　crowd。　All　by　yourself？’
　
　‘Doubt　me　at　your　peril。　I　am　a　prisoner；　I　have　nothing　to　live　for。　I　am　the　flesh　of　prophecy。　I　am　the　bringer　of　death。’
　
　No　answer　came　in　the　silence。　He　slammed　his　sword　home　into　its　scabbard。
　
　Richard　held　his　arms　out　as　he　gave　a　gracious　bow。　He　came　up　smiling。　‘Now　that　we　all　understand　each　other；　understand　the　truce；　you　ladies　may　go　back　to　your　celebration　of　my　capture。’
　
　He　turned　his　back　on　the　stunned　crowd。　Sister　Verna’s　head　was　lowered；　her　hand　covering　her　face。　Pasha’s　lips　were　pressed　so　tightly　together　they　were　turning　blue。
　
　A　stout；　stern…faced　woman　crossed　in　front　of　him；　stoppin