tg.stone of tears-第125部分

快捷操作: 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! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


　
　Zedd　walked　her　out　of　the　rubble。　‘Others　have　invested　their　trust　in　you　to　use　the　gift　you　were　given　to　protect　those　without　power。　They　are　the　ones　who　wrote　the　prophecies。　You　have　been　brought　to　this　point　for　a　reason。　That’s　the　trust　you　must　keep。’
　
　She　nodded；　rubbing　a　thin　hand　on　his　back　as　they　walked　away　from　the　remains　of　her　home。
　
　‘Zedd；　I　think　several　other　bones　be　missing；　too。’
　
　‘I　know。’
　
　They　be　dangerous　in　the　wrong　hands。’
　
　‘I　know　that　too。’
　
　‘Then　what　do　you　plan　to　do　about　it？’
　
　‘I　plan　to　do　what　the　prophecies　say　is　the　only　thing　that　gives　us　a　chance　at　closing　the　veil。’
　
　‘And　what　be　that；　old　man？’
　
　‘Helping　Richard。　We　must　find　a　way　to　help　him；　for　the　prophecies　say　he　is　the　only　one　who　can　close　the　veil。’
　
　Neither　looked　back　as　fire　roared　to　life；　roiling　and　racing　through　the　ruins；　dancing　through　the　bones。
　
　
　CHAPTER　26
　
　Queen　Cyrilla　held　her　head　high。　She　refused　to　acknowledge　how　much　the　coarse　fingers　of　the　brutes　who　held　her　were　hurting　her　arms。　She　didn’t　resist　as　they　walked　her　down　the　filthy　corridor。　Resistance　was　hopeless；　anyway；　and　would　bring　her　no　aid。　She　would　conduct　herself　now　as　always：　with　dignity。　She　was　the　queen　of　Galea。　She　would　endure　with　dignity　what　was　to　e。　She　would　not　show　her　terror。
　
　Besides；　it　was　not　what　was　being　done　to　her　that　mattered。　It　was　what　was　going　to　happen　to　the　Galean　people　that　grieved　her。
　
　And　what　had　already　happened。
　
　Nearly　one　hundred　score　of　the　Galean　guard　had　been　murdered　before　her　eyes。　Who　could　have　foreseen　that　they　would　be　set　upon　in　this；　of　all　places：　on　neutral　ground？　That　a　few　had　escaped　was　no　solace。　They；　too；　would　probably　be　hunted　down　and　killed。
　
　She　hoped　that　her　brother；　Prince　Harold；　had　been　among　those　who　had　escaped。　If　he　had　gotten　away；　perhaps　he　could　rally　a　defense　against　the　worse　slaughter　that　was　yet　to　e。
　
　The　brutal　hands　on　her　arms　brought　her　to　a　halt　next　to　a　hissing　torch　set　in　a　rust…encrusted　bracket。　The　fingers　twisted　so　painfully　that　a　small　cry　escaped　her　lips　despite　her　will　to　stifle　it。
　
　‘Are　my　men　hurting　you；　my　lady？’　came　a　mocking　voice　from　behind。
　
　She　coolly　denied　Prince　Fyren　the　satisfaction　of　an　answer。
　
　A　guard　worked　keys　at　a　rusty　lock；　sending　a　sharp；　metallic　sound　echoing　down　the　stone　corridor　when　the　bolt　finally　drew。　The　heavy　door　groaned　on　its　hinges　as　it　was　pulled　open。　The　viselike　hands　forced　her　on；　through　the　doorway　and　down　another　long；　low　passageway。
　
　She　could　hear　the　swish　of　her　satin　skirts；　and　to　the　sides　and　behind；　the　men’s　boots　on　the　stone　floor；　splashing　occasionally　through　stagnant；　foul…smelling　water。　The　dank　air　felt　cold　on　her　shoulders；　which　were　unaccustomed　to　being　uncovered。
　
　Her　heart　threatened　to　race　out　of　control　when　she　thought　about　where　she　was　being　taken。　She　prayed　to　the　dear　spirits　that　there　wouldn’t　be　rats。　She　feared　rats；　their　sharp　teeth；　their　clutching　claws；　and　their　cunning；　black　eyes。　When　she　was　very　little　she　had　nightmares　about　rats；　and　would　wake　screaming。
　
　It　an　effort　to　bring　her　heart　back　under　control；　she　tried　to　think　of　other　things。　She　thought　about　the　strange　woman　who　had　sought　a　private　audience　with　her。　Cyrilla　wasn’t　at　all　sure　why　she　had　granted　it；　but　she　now　wished　she　had　paid　more　heed　to　the　insistent　woman。
　
　What　was　her　name？　Lady　something。　A　glimpse　of　her　hair　beneath　the　concealing　veil　had　shown　it　to　be　too　short　for　someone　of　her　standing。　Lady　。。。　Bevinvier。　Yes；　that　was　it：　Lady　Bevinvier。　Lady　Bevinvier　of　。。。　someplace。　She　couldn’t　will　her　mind　to　remember。　It　didn’t　matter　anyway；　it　was　not　where　the　woman　was　from；　but　what　she　had　said；　that　mattered。
　
　Leave　Aydindril；　Lady　Bevinvier　had　warned。　Leave　at　once。
　
　But　Cyrilla　had　not　e　all　this　way；　in　the　teeth　of　winter；　to　leave　before　the　Council　of　the　Midlands　had　heard　her　grievance；　and　acted　upon　it。　She　had　e　to　demand　that　the　council　do　its　duty　to　bring　an　immediate　halt　to　the　transgressions　against　her　land　and　people。
　
　Towns　had　been　sacked；　farms　burned；　and　people　murdered。　The　armies　of　Kelton　were　massing　to　attack。　An　invasion　was　imminent；　if　not　already　under　way。　And　for　what？　Nothing　but　naked　conquest。　Against　an　ally！　It　was　an　outrage！
　
　It　was　the　council’s　duty　to　e　to　the　defense　of　any　land　being　attacked；　no　matter　by　whom。　The　whole　point　of　the　Council　of　the　Midlands　was　to　prevent　just　such　treason。　It　was　their　duty　to　direct　all　the　lands　to　e　to　the　aid　of　Galea；　and　put　down　the　aggression。
　
　Though　Galea　was　a　powerful　land；　it　had　been　gravely　weakened　by　its　defense　of　the　Midlands　against　D’Hara；　and　was　not　prepared　for　another　costly　war。　Kelton　had　been　spared　the　brunt　of　the　D’Haran　conquest；　and　had　reserves　aplenty。　Galea　had　paid　the　price　of　resistance　in　their　stead。
　
　The　night　before；　Lady　Bevinvier　had　e　to　her；　and　had　begged　that　she　leave　at　once。　She　had　said　Cyrilla　would　find　no　help　for　Galea　from　the　council。　The　Lady　Bevinvier　said　that　if　the　queen　stayed；　she　would　be　in　great　personal　danger。　At　first；　when　pressed；　Lady　Bevinvier　refused　to　explain　herself。
　
　Cyrilla　thanked　her　but　said　she　would　not　turn　away　from　her　duty　to　her　people；　and　would　go　before　the　council；　as　planned。　Lady　Bevinvier　broke　down　in　tears；　begging　that　the　queen　heed　her　words。
　
　She　at　last　confided　that　she　had　had　a　vision。
　
　Cyrilla　tried　to　draw　the　nature　of　the　vision　out　of　the　woman；　but　she　said　that　it　was　inplete；　that　she　didn’t　know　any　details；　only　that　if　the　queen　didn’t　leave　at　once；　something　terrible　would　happen。　Though　Cyrilla　trusted　well　the　powers　of　magic；　she　had　little　faith　in　fortunetellers。　Most　were　charlatans；　seeking　only　to　fatten　their　purse　with　a　clever　turn　of　a　phrase；　or　a　vague　hint　of　danger　to　be　avoided。
　
　Queen　Cyrilla　was　touched　by　the　woman’s　seeming　sincerity；　though　she　reasoned　it　might　be　nothing　but　deception；　meant　to　trick　her　out　of　a　coin。　A　ruse　for　money　seemed　strange　ing　from　a　woman　of　such　seeming　wealth；　but　times　had　been　hard；　and　she　knew　the　wealthy　were　not　immune　to　losses。　After　all；　if　gold　and　goods　were　to　be　seized；　it　only　made　sense　to　seek　them　from　those　who　had　them。　Cyrilla　knew　many　who　had　worked　hard　all　their　lives；　only　to　lose　everything　in　the　war　with　D’Hara。　Perhaps　Lady　Bevinvier’s　short　hair　was　the　result　of　that　loss。
　
　She　thanked　the　woman；　but　told　her　that　the　mission　was　too　important　to　be　turned　aside。　She　pressed　a　gold　piece　into　the　woman’s　hand；　only　to　have　Lady　Bevinvier　throw　the　coin　across　the　room　before　rushing　off　in　tears。
　
　Cyrilla　had　been　shaken　by　that。　A　charlatan　did　not　refuse　gold。　Unless　of　course　she　sought　something　more。
　
　Either　the　woman　had　been　telling　the　truth；　or　she　was　working　in　aid　of　Kelton；　trying　to　prevent　the　council　from　hearing　of　the　aggression。