tg.stone of tears-第139部分

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　that　if　any　of　the　dead’s　countrymen　return　to　this　place　and　eat　any　of　the　food　here；　they；　too；　will　die。’
　
　They　found　the　main　floor　clear　of　bodies。　It　looked　to　have　been　used　as　an　army　headquarters。　Empty　barrels　of　wine　and　rum　lay　about　the　ballroom　floor。　Food　scraps；　mugs　and　cups；　broken　dishes；　pipe　ashes；　bloody　bandages；　oily　rags；　broken　or　bent　swords；　spears　and　maces；　dark　wood　shavings　from　a　walnut　table　leg　someone　had　whittled　away　until　it　was　nothing　but　a　stub；　basins　of　frozen　water；　dirty　linen；　bedsheets　ripped　into　strips；　and　filthy；　quilted　bedcovers　of　every　color　littered　the　carpeted　floor。　Dirty　bootprints　were　everywhere；　even　on　the　tabletops。　By　the　swirling　scratches；　it　looked　as　if　men　had　danced　atop　them。
　
　Chandalen　walked　through　the　rubble；　inspecting　various　bits。　‘Two；　maybe　three　days　they　were　here。’
　
　She　nodded　her　agreement　as　her　eyes　cast　about。　‘It　looks　that　way。’
　
　He　rolled　a　wine　barrel　back　and　forth　with　his　foot；　testing　if　it　was　empty。　It　was。　‘I　wonder　why　they　stayed　so　long？　Just　to　drink；　and　dance？’
　
　Kahlan　sighed。　‘I　don’t　know。　Maybe　they　were　resting　and　tending　to　their　wounded。　Maybe　they　just　went　on　a　drunken　binge　to　celebrate　their　victory　over　these　people。’
　
　He　looked　up　sharply。　‘Killing　is　not　a　thing　to　celebrate。’
　
　‘It　is；　for　the　people　who　did　this　killing。’
　
　Reluctantly；　Kahlan　at　last　climbed　the　stairs　to　the　top　floor。　She　didn’t　want　to　look　up　there。　That　was　where　the　bedchambers　were。
　
　They　checked　the　west　wing　first：　the　men’s　apartments。　They　looked　to　have　been　used　by　the　troops　as　sleeping　quarters。　With　an　army　of　as　many　men　as　had　to　have　done　this；　they　would　have　had　many　men　of　rank。　The　officers　probably　stayed　here；　in　the　fine　rooms。　The　soldiers　under　their　mand　would　have　used　the　inns　and　more　mon　houses。
　
　With　a　deep　breath　to　strengthen　her　resolve；　she　set　her　jaw　and　crossed　the　central　hall；　with　its　balcony　that　overlooked　the　grand　staircase；　to　the　east…wing　rooms。　Chandalen；　close　at　her　heels；　wanted　to　open　the　doors　for　her　and　check　the　rooms　first；　but　here　she　wouldn’t　allow　it。　Her　hand　paused　for　a　moment　on　the　doorknob；　then　finally　opened　the　first　door。　She　stood　for　a　time；　staring　at　the　scene　inside。　She　went　to　the　next　door　and　flung　it　open；　and　then　to　the　next。
　
　All　the　rooms　were　occupied。　Each　bedchamber　had　women　in　it；　none　clothed。　Room　after　room　after　room　were　all　the　same。　By　the　filthy　condition　of　the　carpets；　there　looked　to　have　been　a　steady　stream　of　traffic。　Wood　shavings　lay　in　little　piles　about　the　floor；　where　a　man　had　passed　the　time　whittling　on　whatever　was　handy　while　he　waited　his　turn。
　
　‘Now　we　know　why　they　spent　several　days　here；’　Kahlan　said　without　meeting　Chandalen’s　eyes。　He　remained　silent。　She　couldn’t　bring　forth　more　than　a　whisper。　‘So　they　could　do　this。’
　
　Those　few　days　had　undoubtedly　been　the　longest　of　these　women’s　lives。　Kahlan　prayed　that　their　spirits　were　at　peace；　now。
　
　She　reached　the　door　at　the　end；　the　door　to　the　room　the　younger　women　shared。　Slowly；　she　opened　it；　and　stood　looking　in；　Chandalen　close　behind　her　looking　past　her　shoulder。
　
　Stifling　a　gasp；　she　turned　and　put　a　hand　to　his　chest。　‘Please；　Chandalen；　wait　here。’
　
　He　nodded　as　he　furiously　studied　his　boots。
　
　Kahlan　closed　the　door　behind　herself　and　stood　with　her　back　against　it　for　a　time。　One　hand　at　her　side；　and　the　other　covering　her　mouth；　she　skirted　an　overturned；　wrecked　wardrobe；　and　walked　the　length　of　the　frigid　room；　between　the　rows　of　beds；　looking　from　one　side　to　the　other。　The　precious　hand　mirrors；　brushes；　bs；　and　pins　that　at　one　time　had　been　arranged　with　loving　care　on　tables　between　the　beds　now　lay　scattered　about　the　floor。　The　blue　moire　curtains　billowed　slightly　in　the　icy　air　ing　through　the　broken　windows。
　
　These　were　the　queen’s　ladies…in…waiting。　Young　women　of　fourteen；　fifteen；　and　sixteen；　a　few　a　little　older。　These　were　not　just　nameless　corpses；　Kahlan　knew　many　of　these　young　women。
　
　The　queen　had　taken　them　with　her　when　she　had　traveled　to　Aydindril　to　speak　before　the　council。　Kahlan　could　not　have　failed　to　notice　them；　their　vibrancy；　their　wide…eyed　excitement　at　being　in　Aydindril。　Seeing　the　grandeur　of　Aydindril　through　their　young　eyes　had　given　Kahlan　new　vision　of　the　things　around　her；　and　brought　a　smile　to　her　lips。　She　had　longed　to　give　them　a　tour；　personally；　but　being　with　the　Mother　Confessor　would　have　frightened　them；　and　so　she　hadn’t。　But　she　had　admired　them　from　afar；　and　envied　their　lives　of　possibility。
　
　Kahlan　stopped　at　various　beds；　her　back　stiff；　her　head　held　high；　her　jaw　rigid；　as　she　reluctantly　cast　her　eyes　down　at　faces　she　knew。　Juliana；　one　of　the　youngest；　had　always　been　self…confident　and　assertive。　She　knew　what　she　wanted　and　wasn’t　timid　about　going　after　it。　She　had　always　been　smitten　with　young　men　in　uniform：　soldiers。　One　time；　it　had　brought　her　to　grief　with　her　chaperone；　Mistress　Nelda。　Kahlan　had　surreptitiously　interceded　on　her　behalf；　informing　Mistress　Nelda　that　despite　Juliana’s　dalliances；　the　Aydindril　Home　Guard　were　all　men　of　impeccable　honor；　and　would　never　lay　a　finger　on　a　queen’s　lady。　Her　wrists　were　now　tied　to　the　headpost；　and　by　the　way　they　had　bled；　looked　to　have　been　that　way　through　the　whole　of　her　ordeal。　Kahlan　silently　cursed　the　spirits　for　their　cruel　humor　in　giving　the　young　innocent　what　she　had　thought　she　wanted。
　
　Little　Elswyth　was　in　the　next　blood…soaked　bed。　Her　breasts　had　been　stabbed　countless　times；　and　her　throat　slit；　as　were　many　of　the　rest；　like　hogs　at　slaughter。　At　the　end　of　the　room；　Kahlan　stopped　at　the　foot　of　the　last　bed。　Ashley；　one　of　the　older　teenagers；　had　each　ankle　tied　to　a　footpost。　She　had　been　strangled　with　a　curtain　tieback。　Her　father　was　one　of　the　Galean　aides　to　the　ambassador　in　Aydindril。　Her　mother　had　been　thrilled　to　tears　when　Queen　Cyrilla　had　agreed　to　take　Ashley　on　as　one　of　her　ladies…in…waiting。
　
　How　would　she　ever　find　the　words　to　tell　Ashley’s　father　and　mother　what　had　happened　to　their　little　girl　while　in　the　service　of　their　queen？
　
　As　Kahlan　retraced　her　steps　through　the　length　of　the　room；　taking　a　last　look　at　each　dead　body；　at　each　face　frozen　in　horror　or　in　blank　submission；　she　idly　wondered　why　she　wasn’t　crying。　Shouldn’t　she　cry？　Shouldn’t　she　fall　to　her　knees；　scream　in　anguish；　pound　her　fists；　and　cry　until　she　drowned　in　tears？　But　she　didn’t。　She　felt　as　if　there　were　no　tears　to　be　had。
　
　Perhaps　there　were　too　many。　Perhaps　she　had　seen　so　many　that　day　that　it　had　simply　numbed　her　to　it。　Like　when　you　get　into　a　tub　of　water　for　a　bath；　and　at　first　you　feel　that　it　is　too　hot　to　stand；　that　surely　you　are　being　scalded；　but　after　a　few　minutes　it　seems　only　warm。
　
　She　softly　pulled　the　door　closed。　Chandalen　stood　in　the　exact　same　spot　she　had　left　him。　His　knuckles　were　white　on　his　bow。　Kahlan　walked　past　him；　expecting　him　to　follow。　He　didn’t。
　
　‘Most　women　wo