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！
So each of us hears his own instructions； and none hears another's。 The man who called himself Bors muttered in frustration。 If he knew what even one other was manded； he might be able to use the knowledge to advantage； but this way。。。 Impatiently he waited for his turn； forgetting himself enough to stand straight。
One by one the gathering received their orders； each walled in silence yet still giving tantalizing clues； if only he could read them。 The man of the Atha'an Miere； the Sea Folk； stiffening with reluctance as he nodded。 The Shienaran； his stance bespeaking confusion even while he acquiesced。 The second woman of Tar Valon giving a start； as of shock； and the gray…swathed figure whose sex he could not determine shaking its head before falling to its knees and nodding vigorously。 Some underwent the same convulsion as the Illianer woman； as if pain itself lifted them to toe tips。
〃Bors。〃
The man who called himself Bors jerked as a red mask filled his eyes。 He could still see the room； still see the floating shape of Ba'alzamon and the three figures before him； but at the same time all he could see was the red…masked face。 Dizzy； he felt as if his skull were splitting open and his eyes were being pushed out of his head。 For a moment he thought he could see flames through the eyeholes of the mask。
〃Are you faithful 。。。 Bors？〃
The hint of mocking in the name sent a chill down his backbone。 〃I am faithful； Great Lord。 I cannot hide from you。〃 I am faithful！ I swear it！
〃No； you cannot。〃
The certainty in Ba'alzamon's voice dried his mouth； but he forced himself to speak。 〃mand me； Great Lord； and I obey。〃
〃Firstly； you are to return to Tarabon and continue your good works。 In fact； I mand you to redouble your efforts。〃
He stared at Ba'alzamon in puzzlement； but then fires flared again behind the mask； and he took the excuse of a bow to pull his eyes away。 〃As you mand； Great Lord； so shall it be。〃
〃Secondly； you will watch for the three young men； and have your followers watch。 Be warned； they are dangerous。〃
The man who called himself Bors glanced at the figures floating in front of Ba'alzamon。 How can I do that？ I can see them； but I can't see anything except his face。 His head felt about to burst。 Sweat slicked his hands under his thin gloves； and his shirt clung to his back。 〃Dangerous； Great Lord？ Farmboys？ Is one of them the … 〃
〃A sword is dangerous to the man at the point； but not to the man at the hilt。 Unless the man holding the sword is a fool； or careless； or unskilled； in which case it is twice as dangerous to him as to anyone else。 It is enough that I have told you to know them。 It is enough that you obey me。〃
〃As you mand； Great Lord； so shall it be。〃
〃Thirdly； regarding those who have landed at Toman Head； and the Domani。 Of this you will speak to no one。 When you return to Tarabon 。。。〃
The man who called himself Bors realized as he listened that his mouth was sagging open。 The instructions made no sense。 If I knew what some of the others were told； perhaps I could piece it together。
Abruptly he felt his head grasped as though by a giant hand crushing his temples； felt himself being lifted； and the world blew apart in a thousand starbursts； each flash of light being an image that fled across his mind or spun and dwindled into the distance before he could more than barely grasp it。 An impossible sky of striated clouds； red and yellow and black； racing as if driven by the mightiest wind the world had ever seen。 A woman … a girl？ … dressed in white receded into blackness and vanished as soon as she appeared。 A raven stared him in the eye； knowing him； and was gone。 An armored man in a brutal helm； shaped and painted and gilded like some monstrous； poisonous insect； raised a sword and plunged to one side； beyond his view。 A horn； curled and golden； came hurtling out of the far distance。 One piercing note it sounded as it flashed toward him； tugging his soul。 At the last instant it flashed into a blinding； golden ring of light that passed through him； chilling him beyond death。 A wolf leaped from the shadows of lost sight and ripped out his throat。 He could not scream。 The torrent went on； drowning him； burying him。 He could barely remember who he was； or what he was。 The skies rained fire； and the moon and stars fell； rivers ran in blood； and the dead walked； the earth split open and fountained molten rock。。。
The man who called himself Bors found himself half crouching in the chamber with the others； most watching him； all silent。 Wherever he looked； up or down or in any direction； the masked face of Ba'alzamon overwhelmed his eyes。 The images that had flooded into his mind were fading； he was sure many were already gone from memory。 Hesitantly； he straightened； Ba'alzamon always before him。
〃Great Lord； what … ？〃
〃Some mands are too important to be known even by he who carries them out。〃
The man who called himself Bors bent almost double in his bow。 〃As you mand； Great Lord；〃 he whispered hoarsely； 〃so shall it be。〃
When he straightened； he was alone in silence once more。 Another； the Taren High Lord； nodded and bowed to someone none else saw。 The man who called himself Bors put an unsteady hand to his brow； trying to hold on to something of what had burst through his mind； though he was not pletely certain he wanted to remember。 The last remnant flickered out； and suddenly he was wondering what it was that he was trying to recall。 I know there was something； but what？ There was something！ Wasn't there？ He rubbed his hands together； grimacing at the feel of sweat under his gloves； and turned his attention to the three figures hanging suspended before Ba'alzamon's floating form。
The muscular； curly…haired youth； the farmer with the sword； and the lad with the look of mischief on his face。 Already； in his mind； the man who called himself Bors had named them the Blacksmith； the Swordsman； and the Trickster。 What is their place in the puzzle？ They must be important； or Ba'alzamon would not have made them the center of this gathering。 But from his orders alone they could all die at any time； and he had to think that some of the others； at least； had orders as deadly for the three。 How important are they？ Blue eyes could mean the nobility of Andor…unlikely in those clothes…and there were Borderlanders with light eyes； as well as some Tareni； not to mention a few from Ghealdan； and； of course 。。。 No； no help there。 But yellow eyes？ Who are they？ What are they？
He started at a touch on his arm； and looked around to find one of the white…clad servants； a young man； standing by his side。 The others were back； too； more than before； one for each of the masked。 He blinked。 Ba'alzamon was gone。 The Myrddraal was gone； too； and only rough stone was where the door it had used had been。 The three figures still hung there； though。 He felt as if they were staring at him。
〃If it please you； my Lord Bors； I will show you to your room。〃
Avoiding those dead eyes； he glanced once more at the three figures； then followed。 Uneasily he wo