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！
the interminable trees part before them。 In the distance； the great city founded by Ghisteslwchlohm sprawled against the shores of the first of the Lungold Lakes； glinting of copper and bronze and gold under the last rays of the sun。
The crows beat a final weary flight toward their destination。 The forest had been pushed back for miles around the city to make room for fields； pastures； orchards。 The cool scent of pine yielded to the smell of harrowed earth and crops that teased at Morgon's crow…instincts。 Trader's Road； striped with shadow； ran its last scarred mile into the mouth of the city。 The gateway was a fragile； soaring arch of dark polished timber and white stone。 The city walls were immense； thick； buttressed with arms of timber and stone that rose high above the buildings scattered beyond the old bounds of the city。 Newer streets had made inroads into the ancient walls； lesser gateways opened in it； houses and shops had grow against； and even on top of the walls； as if their builders had long forgotten the terror that had flung the walls up seven centuries before。
The crows reached the main gate； rested among the arches。 The gates themselves looked as if they had not been closed for centuries。 They were of thick slabs of oak； hinged and reinforced with bronze。 Birds were nesting on the hinges in the shadows。 Within the walls； a maze of cobbled streets wandered away in all directions； lined by brightly painted inns； trade…halls； merchants' and craftsmen's shops； houses with tapestries and flowers trailing from the windows。 Morgon； sifting through his crow…vision； saw across the rooftops and chimneys to the north edge of the city。 The setting sun struck the lake with a full； broad battery； spangling it with fire； until the hundred fishing…boats moored at the docks seemed to burn on the water。
He fluttered to the ground in the angle between the open gate and the wall and changed shape。 Raederle followed him。 They stood looking at one another； their faces thin； stamped with the wildness and silence of the backlands； half…unfamiliar。 Then Morgon； remembering he had an arm； put it around Raederle's shoulders and kissed her almost tentatively。 The expression began to e back into her face。
〃What in Hel's name did we do？〃 she whispered。 〃Morgon； I feel as if I have been dreaming for a hundred years。〃
〃Only a couple of weeks。 We're in Lungold。〃
〃Let's go home。〃 Then a strange look came into her eyes。 〃What have we been eating？〃
〃Don't think about it。〃 He listened。 The traffic through the gate had almost stopped； he heard only one slow horseman preceding the twilight into the city。 He took her hand。 〃Let's go。〃
〃Where？〃
〃Can't you smell it？ It's there； at the edge of my mind。 A stench of power。。。〃
It drew him through the twisting streets。 The city was quiet； for it was supper hour； the succulent smells out of inns they passed made them both murmur。 But they had no money； and with Morgon's torn clothing and Raederle's bare feet； they looked almost like beggars。 The sense of decayed； misused power pulled Morgon toward the heart of the city； through wide streets full of fine shops and wealthy traders' houses。 The streets sloped upward at the center of the city。 The rich buildings dwindled away at the crown of the rising。 The streets ended abruptly。 On an immense； scarred stretch of land rose the shell of the ancient school； fashioned of the power and art of wizardry； its open； empty walls gleaming in the last of the light。
Morgon stopped。 An odd longing ached in him； as at a glimpse of something he could never have and never knew before that he might have wanted。 He said incredulously； 〃No wonder they came。 He made it so beautiful。。。〃
Huge rooms； broken open； half…destroyed； revealed the wealth of the realm。 Shattered windows with jagged panes the colors of jewels were framed in gold。 Inner walls blackened with fire held remnants of pale ash and ebony； of oak and cedar。 Here and there； a scarred； fallen beam glinted with a joint work of copper and bronze。 Long arched windows； through which prisms of refracted light passed； suggested the illusion of peace that had lulled the restless； driven minds drawn into the school。 From across seven centuries Morgon felt its illusion and its promise： the gathering of the most powerful minds of the realm to share knowledge； to explore and discipline their powers。 The obscure longing bruised his heart again； he could not put a name to it。 He stood gazing at the silent； ruined school until Raederle touched him。 〃What is it？〃 〃I don't know。 I wish 。。。 I wish I could have studied here。 The only power I have ever known is Ghisteslwchlohm's。〃
〃The wizards will help you；〃 she said； but he found no reassurance in that。 He looked at her。
〃Will you do something for me？ Go back into crow…shape。 I'll take you on my shoulder while I search for them。 I don't know what traps or bindings might still linger here。〃
She nodded tiredly； without ment； and changed shape。 She tucked herself under his ear； and he stepped onto the grounds of the school。 No trees grew anywhere on them； the grass struggled only patchily around white furrows of scorched earth。 Shattered stones lay where they had fallen； still burning deep within them with a memory of power。 Nothing had been touched for centuries。 Morgon felt it as he drew near the school itself。 The terrible sense of destruction hung like a warning over the wealth。 He moved quietly； his mind open； scenting； into the silent buildings。
The rooms stank with a familiar name。 In most； he found bones crushed beneath a cairn of broken walls。 Memories of hope or energy； of despair； collected about him like wraiths。 He began to sweat lightly； struck by shadows； faint and fine as ancient dust； of a devastating； hopeless battle。 As he entered a great circular hall in the center of the buildings； he felt the reverberations still beating within the walls of a terrible explosion of hatred and despair。 He heard the crow mutter harshly in its throat； its claws were prickling his shoulder。 He picked his way across the ceiling； which was lying in pieces on the floor； toward a door in the back of the room。 The door； hanging in splinters on its hinges； opened into a vast library。 A priceless treasure of books lay torn and charred on the floor。 Fire had raged across the shelves； leaving little more than the backbones and skeletons of ancient books of wizardry。 The smell of burned leather still hung in the room； as if nothing had moved through the air itself in seven centuries。
He moved through empty room after empty room。 He found in one melted pools of gold and silver； precious metals and shattered jewels the students had worked with； in another； the broken bones of small animals。 In another； he found beds。 The bones of a child were crouched under the covers of one of them。 At that point； he turned and groped through the torn wall back into the evening。 But the air was filled with silent cries； and the earth beneath his feet was dead。
He sat down on a pile of stone blown out of the corner of the building。 Down the barren crest of the hill； the