tg.stone of tears-第135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！


de。　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