tg.stone of tears-第63部分

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　‘I　know　the　people　of　this　city。　I　will　repay　them　for　what　I　have　taken。　Since　I　will　pay　for　it；　it　belongs　to　me　now。　Take　it。　It　is　my　gift　for　the　trouble　I　have　caused　your　people。’
　
　He　stared　at　the　cloth　parcel　in　his　hand。　‘It　is　too　valuable　for　a　gift。　A　gift　of　such　great　value　would　bind　us　to　an　obligation　to　you。’
　
　Then　it　is　not　a　gift；　but　my　payment；　to　you　and　Prindin　and　Tossidin；　for　guarding　me　on　this　journey。　You　three　are　risking　your　lives　to　protect　me。　That　is　a　debt　I　owe　you　that　is　greater　than　this　payment。　You　will　owe　me　no　more　obligation。’
　
　With　a　frown；　he　studied　the　bundle　a　moment；　and　then　bounced　it　twice　in　his　hand　before　tucking　it　in　the　buckskin　pouch　at　his　waist。　He　tied　the　flap　closed　by　its　rawhide　thong　and　stood。　Then　this　is　in　trade　for　what　we　do。　We　owe　you　no　obligation　beyond　this　journey。’
　
　‘None；’　she　said；　sealing　the　bargain。
　
　The　two　of　them　walked　on　through　the　silent　streets；　past　the　shops　and　inns　of　the　old　city　quarter。　Every　door；　every　window；　was　broken　in。　Shards　of　glass　sparkled　in　the　sunlight；　shimmering　tears　for　the　dead。　The　invading　horde　had　swept　through　every　building；　searching　out　anything　alive。
　
　‘How　do　this　many　thousands；　all　living　in　this　one　place；　find　land　to　feed　their　families？　There　could　not　be　enough　game　to　hunt；　or　fields　for　all　to　plant。’
　
　Kahlan　tried　to　see　the　city　through　his　eyes。　It　must　be　a　great　puzzle　to　him。　‘They　don’t　all　hunt；　or　plant　the　land。　The　people　who　lived　here　specialized。’
　
　‘Specialized？　What　is　this？’
　
　‘It　means　that　different　people　have　different　jobs。　They　work　at　one　thing。　They　use　silver　or　gold　to　buy　the　things　they　need　that　they　don’t　grow　or　make　themselves。’
　
　‘Where　do　they　get　this　silver　or　gold？’
　
　‘People　who　want　the　thing　they　specialize　in　pay　for　it　with　silver　or　gold。’
　
　‘And　where　do　these　others　get　this　silver　or　gold？’
　
　‘They　get　it　from　people　who　pay　them　for　the　things　they　do。’
　
　Chandalen　looked　at　her　skeptically。　‘Why　do　they　not　trade？　It　would　be　easier　to　trade。’
　
　‘Well；　in　a　way；　it　is　trading。　Often；　the　person　who　wants　what　you　have　has　nothing　you　want；　so　they　give　you　money　…　silver　or　gold　made　into　flat；　round　disks　called　coins　…instead。　Then　you　can　use　the　money　to　buy　things　you　need。’
　
　‘Buy。’　Chandalen　seemed　to　test　the　strange　word　with　his　tongue　as　he　looked　off　down　a　street　to　their　right　while　shaking　his　head　in　disbelief。　‘Why　would　people　work；　then？
　
　Why　would　they　not　just　go　and　get　this　silver　or　gold　money？’
　
　‘Some　do。　They　hunt　silver　and　gold。　But　that　is　hard　work；　too。　Gold　is　hard　to　find　and　dig　out　of　the　ground。　That　is　why　it　is　used　for　money：　because　it　is　rare。　If　it　were　easy　to　find；　like　grains　of　sand；　then　no　one　would　take　it　in　trade。　If　money　were　easy　to　get；　or　to　make；　it　would　bee　worthless；　and　then　in　the　end　this　system　of　trade；　with　worthless　money；　would　fail；　and　everyone　would　starve。’
　
　He　came　to　a　halt　with　a　frown。　‘What　is　this　money　made　from？　What　is　this　silver　or　gold　you　speak　of？’
　
　She　didn’t　stop　with　him；　and　he　had　to　take　a　few　bounding　steps　to　catch　back　up　with　her。　‘Gold　is　。。。　The　medallion；　the　necklace；　that　the　Bantak　gave　as　a　gift　to　the　Mud　People；　to　show　they　did　not　wish　to　make　war；　that　is　made　of　gold。’　Chandalen　nodded　with　a　knowing　grunt。　Kahlan　halted　this　time。　‘Do　you　know　where　the　Bantak　got　that　much　gold？’
　
　Chandalen　swept　his　gaze　across　the　slate　rooftops。　‘Of　course。　They　got　it　from　us。’
　
　Kahlan　gripped　his　arm　covered　with　his　mantle　and　pulled　him　around。　‘What　do　you　mean；　they　got　it　from　you？’
　
　He　tensed　at　her　touch。　He　didn’t　like　her　hand　…　a　Confessor’s　hand　…　on　him。　That　the　fur　mantle　separated　actual　contact　of　flesh　was　of　no　consequence；　their　flesh　was　close　enough。　If　she　relaxed　her　restraint　of　the　power；　that　thin　piece　of　hide　would　be　no　impediment；　Kahlan　had　loosed　her　power　through　armor　before。　She　released　her　grip　and　he　visibly　relaxed。　‘Chandalen；　where　did　the　Mud　People　get　that　much　gold？’
　
　He　looked　at　her　as　if　she　were　a　child　asking　where　you　might　find　dirt。　‘From　the　holes　in　the　ground。　In　our　land；　to　the　north　where　it　is　rocky　and　nothing　much　will　grow　or　live；　there　are　holes　in　the　ground。　They　have　this　gold　in　them。　It　is　a　bad　place。　The　air　is　hot　and　bad。　It　is　said　that　men　die　if　they　stay　too　long　in　the　ground。　The　yellow　metal　is　in　these　deep　holes。　It　is　too　soft　to　make　good　weapons；　so　it　is　of　no　use。’
　
　He　dismissed　its　importance　with　a　wave　of　his　hand。　‘But　the　Bantak　say　their　ancestors’　spirits　like　the　look　of　the　yellow　metal；　and　so　we　let　them　e　onto　our　land　and　go　in　the　holes　so　they　may　get　it　to　make　things　their　ancestors’　spirits　may　like　to　look　upon　when　they　e　to　this　world。’
　
　‘Chandalen；　do　others　know　of　these　holes　in　the　ground；　of　the　gold　that　is　in　them？’
　
　He　shrugged。　‘We　do　not　let　outsiders　e　to　our　land。　But　I　told　you；　it　is　too　soft　to　make　weapons　with；　so　it　is　of　no　use。　It　pleases　the　Bantak；　and　they　are　good　traders　with　us；　so　we　let　them　take　what　they　want。　They　do　not　take　much；　though；　because　it　is　a　bad　place　to　go　into。　No　one　would　want　to　go　there；　except　the　Bantak；　to　please　their　ancestors’　spirits。’
　
　How　could　she　explain　it　to　him？　He　didn’t　understand　the　ways　of　the　outside　world。　‘Chandalen；　you　must　never　use　this　gold。’　He　made　a　face　that　said　he　had　already　explained　how　useless　it　was；　and　no　one　would　want　it。　‘You　may　think　it　is　useless；　but　others　would　kill　to　get　it。　If　people　knew　you　had　gold　on　your　land；　they　would　swarm　over　you　to　get　it。　The　craving　for　gold　makes　men　crazy；　and　they　would　do　anything　to　get　it。　They　would　kill　Mud　People。’
　
　Chandalen　straightened　with　a　smug　expression。　He　took　his　hand　from　the　bowstring　and　tapped　his　chest。　‘I；　and　my　men；　protect　our　people。　We　would　keep　the　outsiders　away。’
　
　Kahlan　swept　her　arm　around；　taking　in　the　hundreds　upon　hundreds　of　dead　around　her。　‘Against　this　many？　Against　thousands？’　Chandalen　had　never　seen　this　many　people。　He　understood　little　of　the　numbers　that　lived　outside　his　lands。　Thousands　who　would　never　stop　ing　until　they　swept　you　aside？’
　
　His　eyes　followed　the　arc　her　arm　had　taken。　His　brow　wrinkled　with　the　frown　of　a　worry　unfamiliar　to　him；　his　arrogance　evaporating　as　he　took　in　the　dead。　‘Our　ancestors’　spirits　have　warned　us　not　to　speak　of　the　holes　in　the　ground　with　the　bad　air。　We　only　let　the　Bantak　go　there；　no　one　else。’
　
　‘See　that　it　stays　that　way；’　she　said。　‘Or　they　will　e　and　steal　it。’
　
　‘That　would　be　wrong；　to　steal　from　a　people。’　He　put　renewed　tension　to　the　bowstring　as　she　let　out　a　noisy　breath　of　frustration。　‘If　I　make　a　bow　to　trade；　everyone　knows　it　is　the　work　of　Chandalen；　because　it　is　such　a　fine　bow。　If　anyone　steals　it；　everyone　knows　what　it　is　and　where　it　came　from；　and　the　thief　would　be　caught；　and　be　made　to　give　it　back。　Maybe　he　would　be　sent　away　from　his　people。　How　do　these　people　tell　who　the　money　belongs　to；　if　it　is　taken　by　a　thief？’
　
　Kahlan’s　mind　reeled　from　the　effort　of　trying　to　explain　such　things　to　Chandalen。　At　least　it　was　keeping　her　from　having　to　think　about　the　dead　all　about　her。　She　started　walking　again　through　the　snow；　having　to　step　over　a　man’s　back　because　there　was　no　way　around；　they　were　fallen　so　close。
　
　‘It　is　difficult。　Because　of　this；　people　guard　their　money。　If　anyone　is　caught　stealing；　the　punishment　is　severe；　to　discourage　thieving。’
　
　‘How　are　thieves　punished？’
　
　‘If　they　didn’t　steal　much；　and　are　lucky；　they　might　be　locked　in　a　small　room　until　their　family　can　make　reparations　for　what　they　stole。’
　
　‘Locked？　What　is　this？’
　
　‘A　lock　is　way　of　barring　a　door。　The　stone　rooms　that　thieves　are　placed　in　have　a　door　they　are　not　able　to　open　from　the　inside。　It　has　a　lock　on　it；　and　you　must　have　a　key；　the　right　key；　to　open　it；　so　they　cannot　get　out。’
　
　Chandalen　checked　the　side　street　beyond　a　silversmith’s　shop　as　they　continued　up　the　main　road。　‘I　would　rather　be　put　to　death　than　be　locked　in　a　room。’
　
　‘If　the　thief　stole　from　the　wrong　person；　or　is　unlucky；　that　is　what　happens　to　him。’
　
　Chandalen　grunted。　She　didn’t　think　she　was　doing　a　very　good　job　of　explaining　things　to　him。　He　seemed　to　think　the　whole　scheme　unworkable。
　
　‘Our　way　is　better。　We　make　what　we　want。　Everyone　makes　what　they　need。　This　specializing　way　is　not　our　way。　We　trade　only　for　a　few　things。　Our　way　is　better。’
　
　‘You　do　the　same　as　these　people；　Chandalen。　You　may　not　realize　it；　but　you　do。’
　
　‘No。　Each　person　knows　many　things。　We　teach　all　our　children　to　know　how　to　do　everything　they　need。’
　
　‘You　specialize。　You’re　a　hunter；　and　more　than　that；　you’re　a　protector　to　your　people。’　She　nodded　once　again　to　the　dead　around　her。　Some　stared　back　with　flat　eyes。　‘These　men　were　soldiers。　They　specialized　at　protecting　their　people。　They　gave　their　lives　trying　to　protect　their　people。　You’re　the　same　as　they：　a　soldier。　You’re　strong；　you　are　good　with　a　bow　and　a　spear；　and　you　are　good　at　discovering　and　preparing　to　thwart　the　various　ways　others　would　try　to　harm　your　people。’
　
　Chandalen　thought　this　over　a　moment　as　he　stopped　briefly　to　knock　a　heavy　clump　of　snow　from　the　binding　of　his　snowshoe。　‘But　that　is　only　me。　Because　I　am　so　strong；　and　wise。　Others　of　my　people　do　not　specialize。’
　
　‘Everyone　specializes；　Chandalen。　Nissel；　the　healer；　she　specializes　at　helping　sick　or　injured　people。　She　spends　most　of　her　time　helping　others。　How　does　she　feed　herself？’
　
　Those　she　helps　give　her　what　she　needs；　and　if　there　is　no　one　to　help　so　she　can　be　offered　food　by　them；　then　others　who　have　enough　offer　some　of　theirs　so　Nissel　will　be　well　fed　and　ready　to　help　us。’
　
　…　‘You　see？　Those　she　helps　pay　her　with　tava　bread；　but　it’s　the　same　thing　almost　as　they　do　here　with　money。　Because　she　specializes　in　a　service　to　the　village；　everyone　helps　a　little　so　she　will　be　there　for　the　village　when　there　is　need　of　her。　Here；　that’s　called　a　tax；　when　everyone　pays　a　little　toward　the　good　of　the　group；　to　help　support　those　who　work　for　all　the　people。’
　
　‘Is　this　how　you　get　your　food？　The　people　all　give　for　you；　like　we　do　when　you　e　to　make　trouble　for　us？’
　
　She　was　relieved　that　for　the　first　time　he　didn’t　say　it　with　enmity。　‘Yes。’
　
　Chandalen　eyed　empty　second…floor　windows　as　they　walked　on　among　buildings　that　were　being　larger　and　more　ornate。　The　double；　iron…strap…hinged　doors　to　an　inn　on　their　left　were　broken　in；　and　tables；　chairs；　pots；　dishes；　and　linen　embroidered　with　red　roses　…　apparently　to　echo　the　inn’s　name；　the　Red　Rose　…　had　been　thrown　into　the　street；　where　they　were　half　covered　over　with　the　snow。　Through　the　empty　doorway　she　could　see　the　body　of　an　apron…clad　kitchen　boy　sprawled　on　the　floor；　his　eyes　staring　up　at　the　ceiling；　frozen　with　the　terror　of　his　last　vision。　He　couldn’t　have　been　over　twelve。
　
　‘But　that　is　just　the　hunters；　and　Nissel；’　Chandalen　added；　after　some　thought。　‘Others　of　us　do　not　do　this　specializing。’
　
　‘Everyone　does；　to　some　degree。　The　women　bake　the　tava　bread；　the　men　make　the　weapons。　Nature　is　that　way；　too。　Some　plants　grow　where　it　is　wet；　some　where　it　is　dry。　Some　animals　eat　grass；　some　leaves；　some　bugs；　and　some　other　animals。　Every　thing　plays　its　part。　Women　have　the　babies；　and　men　。。。’
　
　She　halted；　fists　at　her　sides；　staring　at　the　countless　bodies　fallen　all　around　her。　She　swept　her　arm　out。
　
　‘And　men；　it　would　seem；　are　here　to　kill　everything。　You　see；　Chandalen？　Women’s　specialty　is　to　bring　forth　life；　and　men’s　specialty　is　to　take　it　away。’
　
　Kahlan　clenched　her　fist　against　her　stomach。　She　was　dangerously　close　to　losing　her　posure。　Nausea　swept　through　her。　Her　head　spun。
　
　Chandalen　stole　a　glimpse　at　her　from　the　corner　of　his　eye。　‘The　Bird　Man　would　say　not　to　judge　all　by　what　some　do。　And　women　do　not　make　life　alone。　Men　are　part　of　that；　too。’
　
　Kahlan　gulped　cold　air。　With　a　struggle；　she　started　off　again；　shuffling　her　snowshoes　ahead。　Chandalen　let　her　set　a　quicker　pace　as　he　walked　beside　her。　She　turned　them　up　a　street　lined　with　fine　shops。　As　she　moved　up　and　then　down　a　snowdrift；　he　pointed　with　his　bow；　seeming　to　look　for　an　excuse　to　change　the　subject。
　
　‘Why　do　they　have　wooden　people　here？’
　
　A　headless　mannequin　rested　at　an　angle　against　a　window…sill；　tipped　halfway　out　of　a　shop。　The　elaborate　blue　dress　the　mannequin　wore　was　trimmed　with　white　beads　draped　in　layers　about　the　waist。　Glad　to　have　a　diversion　from　the　thoughts　swirling　in　her　head；　Kahlan　changed　direction　a　little；　toward　the　mannequin　in　the　blue　dress。
　
　This　is　a　tailor’s　shop。　The　people　who　owned　this　shop　specialized　in　making　clothes。　This　wooden　person　is　simply　a　form　to　display　what　they　make；　so　others　may　know　the　fine　work　they　do。　It’s　a　demonstration　of　pride　in　their　work。’
　
　She　stopped　before　the　large　window。　All　the　panes　of　glass　were　broken　out。　A　few　of　the　yellow…painted　mullions　hung　crookedly　from　the　top　of　the　frame。　The　shade　of　blue　of　the　gorgeous　gown　reminded　Kahlan　of　her　wedding　dress。　She　could　feel　the　blood　pounding　in　the　veins　of　her　neck　as　she　swallowed　back　a　cry。　Chandalen　watched　both　directions　up　and　down　the　street　as　her　hand　slowly　reached　out　to　touch　the　frozen；　blue　fabric。
　
　Her　vision　focused　past　the　mannequin；　into　the　shop；　where　a　square　of　sunlight　fell　across　the　snow…dusted　floor　and　up　and　over　a　low　work　counter。　Her　hand　faltered。　A　dead　man　with　a　balding　head　was　pinned　to　the　wall　by　a　spear　through　his　chest。　A　woman　lay　sprawled　facedown　over　the　counter；　her　dress　and　underskirts　bunched　up　around　her　waist；　exposing　blue　flesh。　A　pair　of　tailor’s　scissors　jutted　from　her　back。
　
　In　the　gloom　at　the　far　end　of　the　room　stood　another　mannequin；　in　a　fine　man’s　coat。　The　front　of　the　dark　coat　was　shredded　with　hundreds　of　small　cuts。　The　soldiers　had　evidently　used　the　mannequin　as　a　target　for　knife　throwing　while　they　waited　their　turn　on　the　woman。　Apparently；　when　they　were　finished　with　her；　they　stabbed　her　to　death　with　her　scissors。
　
　Kahlan　twisted　away　from　the　shop　to　find　herself　face…to…face　with　Chandalen。　His　was　red。　There　was　menace　in　his　eyes。
　
　‘Not　all　men　are　the　same。　I　would　cut　the　throat　of　any　man　of　mine　if　he　did　such　a　thing。’
　
　Kahlan　had　no　answer　for　him；　and　suddenly　wasn’t　in　the　mood　to　talk。　As　she　started　off　again；　she　loosened　the　mantle　at　her　neck；　needing　the　feel　of　cold　air。
　
　In　silence；　but　for　the　low；　baleful　moan　of　the　breeze　between　the　buildings；　they　slogged　past　stables　of　horses；　their　throats　all　cut；　and　past　inns　and　grand　houses；　their　cornices　high　overhead　shading　them　from　the　bright；　slanting　sunlight。　Fluted；　wooden　columns　to　each　side　of　on