tg.stone of tears- 第101部分

　
　Her　cheek　burned　with　the　sting　of　his　handprint。
　
　‘You　can’t　put　me　in　there　…　with　them。’　Her　whispered　entreaty　was　hopeless；　she　knew；　but　she　couldn’t　keep　it　from　her　lips。
　
　Fyren　rolled　his　shoulders；　straightening　his　back　and　coat　as　he　regained　his　posure。　His　voice　rose　to　those　below。　‘You　men　wouldn’t　defile　a　lady；　would　you？’
　
　Soft　laughter　echoed　up　from　the　pit。　‘Why；　course　not。　We　wouldn’t　want　to　be　beheaded　twice。’　The　coarse　voice　deepened　into　cold　menace。　‘We’ll　treat　her　real　nice　like。’
　
　Cyrilla　could　taste　warm；　salty　blood　at　the　corner　of　her　mouth。　‘Fyren；　you　can’t　do　this。　I　demand　to　be　beheaded　at　once。’
　
　There　you　go　again：　demanding。’
　
　‘Why　can’t　it　be　done　now！　Let　it　be　done　now！’
　
　He　drew　his　hand　back　to　slap　her　again；　but　then　let　it　lower　as　his　simper　returned。　‘You　see？　At　first　you　proclaimed　your　innocence；　and　didn’t　want　to　be　executed；　but　already　you　are　reconsidering。　After　a　few　days　down　there；　with　them；　you　will　be　begging　to　be　beheaded。　You　will　eagerly　confess　your　treason　before　all　those　gathered　to　witness　your　punishment。　Besides；　I　have　other　matters　to　attend　to。　I　can’t　be　bothered　right　now。　You　will　be　put　to　death　when　I　deem　I　have　the　time。’
　
　With　rising　terror；　she　was　only　now　beginning　to　grasp　the　full　extent　of　the　fate　that　awaited　her　in　the　pit。　Tears　burned　her　eyes。
　
　‘Please　。。。　don’t　do　this　to　me。　I’m　begging　you。’
　
　Prince　Fyren　smoothed　the　white　ruffles　at　his　throat　and　spoke　softly。　‘I　tried　to　make　it　easy　for　you；　Cyrilla；　because　you’re　a　woman。　Drefan’s　knife　would　have　been　quick。　You　would　have　suffered　little　that　way。　I　would　never　have　allowed　a　man　in　your　place　such　mercy。　But　you　wouldn’t　have　it　the　easy　way。　You　allowed　the　Mother　Confessor　to　interfere。　You　allowed　yet　another　woman　to　infringe　on　the　dominion　of　men！
　
　‘Women　don’t　have　the　stomach　for　ruling。　They’re　ill　suited　to　the　task。　They　should　never　be　allowed　to　mand　armies　or　to　meddle　in　the　affairs　of　nations。　Things　had　to　be　set　right。　Drefan　died　trying　to　do　it　the　easy　way。　Now　we　do　it　the　other　way。’
　
　He　nodded　to　a　man　behind　him。　The　guard　hauled　the　ladder　to　the　doorway　to　lower　an　end　into　the　pit　as　the　hands　on　her　arms　moved　her　to　the　edge。　The　other　men　drew　swords；　apparently　to　prevent　any　in　the　pit　from　thinking　to　e　up　the　ladder。
　
　Cyrilla　could　think　of　no　way　to　stop　this。　She　voiced　a　protest；　knowing　it　was　foolish；　but　unable　to　check　her　panic。　‘I　am　a　queen；　a　lady；　I　will　not　be　made　to　scurry　down　a　rickety　ladder。’
　
　Prince　Fyren　blinked　at　her　ludicrous　objection；　but　then　motioned　with　his　hand　for　the　man　to　pull　the　ladder　back　from　the　doorway。
　
　He　gave　a　mocking　bow。　‘As　you　wish；　my　lady。’
　
　He　rose；　giving　a　slight　nod　to　the　men　holding　her　arms。　They　released　her。　Before　she　thought　to　move　a　muscle；　he　rammed　the　heel　of　his　hand　into　her　chest；　between　her　breasts。
　
　The　painful　blow　knocked　her　off　balance。　She　toppled　backward　through　the　opening。　Down　into　the　pit。
　
　As　she　plummeted；　she　fully　expected　to　strike　the　stone　floor　and　be　killed。　She　resigned　to　it　with　a　last　gasp　as　the　futile　flow　of　her　past　glory　whirled　before　her　mind’s　eye。　Had　it　all　e　to　this？　All　for　nought？　To　have　her　skull　cracked　like　an　egg　fallen　from　a　table　to　the　floor？
　
　But　hands　caught　her。　Hands　were　everywhere　upon　her；　unexpectedly　upon　the　most　indecent　places。　Her　eyes　opened　to　see　the　light　of　the　doorway　go　dark　with　a　loud；　reverberating　clang。
　
　Faces　were　all　around　her　in　the　haunting；　flickering　torchlight。　Scruffy；　whiskered　faces。　Ugly；　sweaty；　wicked　faces。　Cunning　black　eyes　played　over　her。　Hungry；　humorless　grins　showed　crooked；　sharp　teeth。　So　many　teeth。　Her　throat　clenched　shut；　locking　her　breath　in　her　lungs。　Her　mind　refused　to　function；　and　flashed　with　confusing；　useless　images。
　
　She　was　pressed　to　the　floor。　The　stone　was　cold　and　painfully　rough　against　her　back。　Grunts　and　low　squeals　assailed　her　from　every　side。　Men　were　tight　together　above　her。　Against　her　struggles；　her　limbs　were　pushed　and　pulled　as　the　men　willed。
　
　Clutching；　clawlike　hands　ripped　at　her　fine　dress　and　pinched　brutally　at　suddenly；　shockingly；　exposed　flesh。
　
　And　then　Cyrilla　did　something　she　hadn’t　done　since　she　was　a　little　girl。
　
　She　screamed。
　
　
　CHAPTER　27
　
　Except　for　her　thumb　and　forefinger　idly　turning　the　smooth；　round　bone　on　her　necklace；　Kahlan　stood　motionless　as　she　studied　the　sprawling　city。　The　surrounding　rugged　slopes　seemed　to　tenderly　cradle　the　buildings　that　filled　nearly　the　length　and　breadth　of　the　gently　rolling　valley。　Steeply　pitched　slate　roofs　pricked　the　land　within　the　ribbon　of　wall；　with　the　higher　peaks　of　the　palace　off　to　the　northern　end；　but　not　so　much　as　a　wisp　of　smoke　rose　from　the　hundreds　of　stone　chimneys　into　the　clear　air。　She　saw　no　movement。　The　arrow…straight　south　road　leading　to　the　main　gate；　the　smaller；　meandering　roads　that　branched　off　to　end　at　the　lesser　gates；　and　those　which　bypassed　the　outer　walls　altogether　to　lead　north；　were　deserted。
　
　The　sloping　mountain　meadow　before　her　lay　buried　beneath　a　white　winter　blanket。　A　light　breeze　liberated　the　burden　of　snow　from　a　sagging　branch　of　a　nearby　pine；　freeing　a　sparkling　cloud　to　curl　away。　The　same　breeze　ruffled　the　white　wolf　fur　of　the　thick　mantle　snugged　against　her　cheek；　but　she　hardly　noticed。
　
　Prindin　and　Tossidin　had　made　the　mantle　for　her；　to　keep　her　warm　on　their　way　northeast　through　the　bitter　winter　storms　that　raked　the　bleak　land　they　had　traveled。　Wolves　were　fearful　of　people；　and　rarely　let　themselves　be　seen；　so　she　knew　little　of　their　habits。　The　brothers’　arrows　had　found　their　mark　where　she　saw　nothing。　If　she　hadn’t　seen　Richard　shoot；　she　would　have　thought　the　shots　impossible。　The　brothers　were　almost　as　good　as　he。
　
　Though　she　had　always　held　a　vague　enmity　for　wolves；　she　had　never　actually　been　harried　by　them。　Since　Richard　had　told　her　of　their　close　family　packs；　she　had　e　to　feel　an　affection　for　them。　She　hadn’t　wanted　the　two　brothers　to　kill　wolves　to　make　the　warm　cape；　but　they　insisted　that　it　was　necessary　and；　in　the　end；　she　had　acquiesced。
　
　It　had　sickened　her　to　watch　the　carcasses　being　skinned；　revealing　the　red　muscle　beneath；　and　white　of　bone　and　sinew；　the　substance　of　being；　so　elegant　when　filled　with　life　and　spirit；　so　suddenly　morbid　when　left　with　neither。
　
　As　the　brothers　went　about　the　grisly　task；　she　could　think　only　of　Brophy；　the　man　she　had　touched　with　her　power；　only　to　have　it　prove　him　innocent。　He　had　been　turned　to　a　wolf　by　her　wizard；　Giller；　to　release　him　from　the　power　of　a　Confessor’s　magic；　so　he　could　start　over　in　a　new　life。　She　had　wondered　at　how　saddened　these　wolves’　families　must　have　been　when　they　never　returned；　as　she　knew　Brophy’s　mate　and　pack　must　have　been　when　he　was　killed。
　
　She　had　seen　so　much　killing。　She　was　weary　nearly　to　tears　of　it；　at　the　way　it　seemed　to　go　on　without　an　end　in　sight。　At　least　the　three　men　had　felt　no　pride　or　joy　at　having　killed　the　magnificent　animals；　and　had　said　a　prayer　to　the　spirits　of　their　brother　wolves；　as　they　had　called　them。
　
　‘We　should　not　be　doing　this；’　Chandalen　grumbled。
　
　He　was　leaning　on　his　spear；　watching　her；　she　knew；　but　she　didn’t　take　her　eyes　from　the　silent　city　below；　the　too…still　scene。　His　tone　was　not　as　sharp　as　it　usually　was。　It　betrayed　his　awe　at　seeing　a　city　the　size　of　Ebinissia。
　
　He　had　never　before　been　far　from　the　Mud　People’s　lands；　had　never　seen　this　many　buildings；　especially　none　of　such　grand　scale。　When　he　had　first　taken　in　the　size　of　it；　his　brown　eyes　had　stared　in　silent　wonder　he　could　not　conceal；　and　his　acid　tongue；　for　once；　had　forsaken　him。　Having　lived　his　whole　life　in　the　village　out　on　the　plains；　it　must　look　to　him　as　if　he　were　seeing　the　result　of　magic；　not　mere　human　effort。
　
　She　felt　a　small　pang　of　sorrow　for　him　and　the　two　brothers；　that　their　simple　view　of　the　outside　world　had　to　be　shattered。　Well；　they　would　see　more；　before　this　journey　was　ended；　that　would　astonish　them　further。
　
　‘Chandalen；　I　have　spent　a　great　effort；　nearly　every　waking　moment；　teaching　you　and　Prindin　and　Tossidin　to　speak　my　language。　No　one　where　we　go　will　speak　yours。　It　is　for　your　own　good　that　I　do　this。　You　are　free　to　believe　that　I　am　being　spiteful；　or　that　I　am　doing　as　I　say：　being　mindful　of　your　safety　outside　your　land；　but　either　way；　you　will　speak　to　me　in　the　tongue　I　have　taught　you。’
　
　His　tone　tightened；　but　still　could　not　disguise　how　humbled　he　was　at　seeing　a　great　city　for　the　first　time。　It　was　far　from　the　greatest　he　would　see。　Perhaps；　too；　it　betrayed　something　she　had　never　before　sensed　from　him：　fear。
　
　‘I　am　to　take　you　to　Aydindril；　not　this　place。　We　should　not　be　using　our　time　at　this　place。’　His　inflection　implied　he　thought　a　place　such　as　this　could　be　only　evil。
　
　Squinting　against　the　blindingly　bright　s