世界之脊第十三章(页 1) - 文字翻译室 - 龙骑士城堡奇幻论坛奇幻文学,翻译,原创,龙与地下城

jarod 发表于 2005-6-7 02:00

世界之脊第十三章

第十三章囚犯狂欢节   这是用来殴打和嘲弄的一小时，那些狂热的乡下人向他们扔腐烂的食物，令人作呕的东西在脸上撞得粉碎。   这一个小时中沃夫加甚至连一点反应都没有。他现在离囚犯狂欢节的现场是那么的遥远，在一个私人的情感空间里躲避得那么安全，这是一个他用精神上的忍耐力创造出来的地方，使得自己能够通过厄图的折磨而生存下去，这也使得他看不到那些农民扭曲的面孔、听不到当贾克海尔德出现在那个巨大舞台上时地方官助理鼓动暴走的群众更为积极地参加这个真实表演的声音。野蛮人被双手反绑在一根坚固的木桩上，旁边还有三个人同他一样。他的双踝被铁链锁着，上面连着一个大铁球，另一端则绕在了他的脖子上，重量足以弯曲沃夫加强壮的脖颈使他低下头来。   他就像通过透明水晶一样看到了那些围观的人。为鲜血和拷问而尖叫、胡言乱语的乡下人；激动、几乎可以说是兴高采烈的在人群中工作着的恶魔般的警卫们，还有那些不幸的罪犯。在他的眼中他们实实在在地在那里，而在他的思想里则已经将这些人都转变成了一些别的东西，一些魔鬼，那些有着扭曲、淫亵面孔的厄图爪牙们，正将他们带有酸性的口水淌到野蛮人身上，用他们那些有毒的尖牙利齿和恐怖的呼吸咬刺着他、羞辱着他。他再次闻到了厄图家乡所特有的那股味道，深渊的硫磺气灼烧着他的鼻腔和喉咙，给他身上无数的伤口带来额外的刺痛。他仿佛感觉到了那些蜈蚣、蜘蛛爬满全身，钻进他的皮肤下面时传来的阵阵麻痒。令他求生不得，求死不能。   在那些折磨日复一日、周复一周、年复一年的持续中，沃夫加在自己意识的一个小角落中找到了可供逃跑的地方。他将自己锁在里面，遗忘掉周围的环境。眼下面对着这个狂欢节他就把自己置身到了那个隐秘的角落。   囚犯被一个接一个地从柱子上解下来进行游行示众，有几次甚至同那些乡巴佬靠得非常近，以供他们虐待辱骂，其他时候就用一些器械折磨他们。那些里面包括捆绑鞭打用的绳子；一种设计成可以将他们的双臂反架在背后的竿子，之后可以利用滑轮工具将被害人抬升到空中；然后在囚犯们的两个脚踝上挂上一桶污浊不堪的脏水，或者，像不幸的克里普·沙基那样，挂上一桶尿。克里普对这一切中的大部分都报以哭喊，而不论那个地方官助理想出什么样的惩罚，提阿尼尼和沃夫加都坚忍地接受了下来，一声不吭，除了偶尔不可避免地从他们那些枯萎般的肺中喷出些气息的声音。莫里克对这一切则是昂首挺胸，他宣称着自己的清白，并不时为辩解添加上一些诙谐的注释，当然这只能使得他被打得更厉害。   地方官贾克海尔德出现了，步入了吼叫和欢呼声中，他穿着又厚又黑的衣帽，拿着一根银色的存放卷轴的管子。地方官走到舞台的中央，站在那些囚犯之间故意将目光从他们身上一个一个地扫视过去。   贾克海尔德向前跨出一步。随着富有戏剧性的一记挥动，他向观众展示了这个卷轴筒，这份仿佛受过诅咒般的文件，伴随而来的是热烈的叫喊和欢呼。随着人们的呐喊声愈加响亮，贾克海尔德将自己的每一个动作都表现得异常清晰，他“呯”地一声启开卷轴筒底部的盖子，取出里面的文件。将之展开后，地方官把这些文件展示给周围每一个围观者看，同时读出每个罪犯的名字。   这个狂欢节组织者看上去就像是厄图的同类，正在制定着折磨的计划。他的每一句话发出的声音在野蛮人听来同那个贝勒魔一摸一样：发自喉咙底部的刮擦金属般的野蛮的声音。   “我要告诉你们一个故事，”贾克海尔德开始说了，“一个关于背信弃义与谎言欺骗的故事，一个为了从谋杀中获取利益而背弃友情的故事。就是这个人！”他加强了嗓音中的力度，指着克里普·沙基，“是这个人告诉了我一切，而此后这件事所带来的彻底的恐惧让我每天晚上都无法入睡。”地方官继续详述着沙基所陈述的罪行。据这个不幸的人所说，这一切都是莫里克的主意。莫里克同沃夫加将杜德蒙引诱到屋子外面，使得提阿尼尼可以用毒刺刺中他。同时莫里克也假装用刺刺中了船长，而暗器上则涂上了一种不同的毒药用以确保牧师们无法救治伤者，但在袭击的片刻之后城镇警卫就赶到了。整个计划自始至终克里普·沙基都在尽量想要说服他们放弃，但出于对沃夫加的恐惧他没有成功。这个大个子曾威胁说要把他的头从肩膀上拧下来，然后沿着路斯坎的每一条街道踢过去。   在场那些围观者中有很多人都曾经是沃夫加还在酒馆工作时那种强制暴力方法的受害者，因此他们觉得最后那一段话的可信度非常高。   “你们四个所犯之罪为共谋罪和谋杀罪－－企图卑鄙地谋杀可敬的杜德蒙船长，一位在我们这个以公正著称的城市中有着极高威望的来访者，”贾克海尔德在结束故事时说道，之后等待观众的吼叫嘲讽稍稍平息，“你们四个将被施以同样的重罚。出于公平公正的重要，我们要听一下你们对所宣布的这些罪行的回答。”   他走过克里普·沙基面前，“我所说的是否是你告诉我的全部？”他问道。   “是的先生，是的。”克里普·沙基急切地回答道，“他们干的，所有这些都是他们干的！”   围观者中有些人将他们全然不信的吼叫抛向台上，而其他一些人只是在嘲笑着这个家伙，他的话语中完全是一副可怜兮兮的腔调。   “沙基先生，”贾克海尔德继续道，“对于所宣布的第一条罪状，你承认吗？”   “我是清白的！”沙基辩解道，声音中充满了自信，因为他的合作者已经同意免于对他进行狂欢节上最糟糕的惩罚，但他的声音却淹没在观众们的嘲笑声中。   “对于所宣布的第二条罪状，你承认吗？”   “清白的！”这个人挑战地说道，同时对地方官报以一个露齿的微笑。   “有罪！”一个老妇人喊道，“他是有罪的，由于没有对其他人的行为进行谴责他应该面对开可怕的死亡！”   立刻有一百道声音响起支持着妇人的观点，但克里普·沙基迅速收起了微笑，表现得十分自信。贾克海尔德走到台子前面用双手轻拍着空气示意观众安静。当最后他们静下来后地方官说道：“克里普·沙基的故事帮助了我们证明其他人的罪行。因此，出于对他合作态度的考虑，我们已经同意对其进行宽大处理。”这个决定立刻引起了成片雷鸣般的嘘声和嘲讽的口哨声，“因为他的诚实，因为事实上他所说的话－－没有被其他人置疑的话－－他没有直接参予。”   “我置疑！”莫里克喊道，同时围观群众也吼叫起来。贾克海尔德只是示意了下一个警卫，莫里克的胃上立刻狠狠地挨了一棍子。   从群众中爆发出了更多的嘘声，但贾克海尔德对这些请求都报以拒绝，而聪明的克里普·沙基脸上的笑容则咧得更宽了。   “我们同意对其的宽大，”贾克海尔德说道，他举起双手好像自己什么都不能做似的，“因此，我们应该快速地处死他。”   克里普·沙基的笑容就像石头一样凝固在了脸上，而台下的嘘声立刻转变成了表示赞同的大合唱般的吼叫。   尽管他唾沫飞溅地抗议着，尽管他地双腿再也无法支撑自己的上身，克里普·沙基被架到一座断头台前面，并强迫跪在那里。   “我是清白的！”他喊道，但当一个警卫强行将他按向断头台令脸猛撞在台面的木块上时这句辩解唐突地截然中止了。一个身材高大的刽子手举着把恐怖的大斧子走上台来。   “如果你挣扎的话那么是无法一击致命的。”一个警卫告诫他。   克里普·沙基抬起头：“但你们答应过我的！”   那警卫“呯”地将他按回台面，“别乱动！”他们中的一个命令道。感到恐惧的克里普躺在死刑台上又挣又跳，拼命翻滚。那些警卫为了抓紧他而搞得十分喧闹混乱。他野蛮地踢着腿，而那些围观者则吼叫、嘲笑着，大喊着“吊死他！”“杀死他！”以及另外一些可怕的死刑建议，回荡在广场的每一个角落。 *****   “多可爱的群众啊。”杜德蒙船长不无讽刺地对罗毕拉说道。他们同海灵号上的其他几个船员一起夹杂在欢呼雀跃的人群中间。   “公正。”法师坚定地说道。   “希望如此。”船长沉思地说道，“这是公正，还是娱乐？这里有一道分界线，我的朋友，看看这每天都有的展览，我相信路斯坎很久以前的管理者们是可以将这道界线划分得非常清楚的。”   “是你自己要求来这里的。”罗毕拉提醒他。   “来这里作为一个目击者是我的责任。”杜德蒙回答。   “我说的这里是路斯坎，”罗毕拉澄清道，“是你要求来这个城市的，船长，我说更喜欢深水城。”   杜德蒙以一道严厉的凝视使得他的法师朋友闭上了嘴，但自己也无从反驳。 *****   “停止你的挣扎！”警卫冲克里普喊道，但这个肮脏的家伙动得更厉害了，绝望地踢踹号叫。他有好几次都成功地躲开了警卫们抓过来的手，这使得围观者们感到很有趣，他们觉得眼前的景象很让人享受。克里普疯狂的动作在一瞬间使得他对上了贾克海尔德的视线。地方官对其这严厉猛烈的一瞥使得克里普停止的挣动。   “把他拉去四马分尸。”贾克海尔德故意慢慢地说道。   这让观众们的欢呼爆发到了一个新的高潮。   克里普在其有生之年只见过两次这种终极刑罚，这句话立刻将他脸上的血液都偷走了，令他感到坠入了一阵完全的颤抖，当着眼前的几千围观者，他尿裤子了。   “你答应过的。”他张嘴低声说道，看上去就像在喘气似的，但声音大到正好可以让地方官听到并向他走了过来。   “我的确答应过宽大处理，”贾克海尔德静静地说道，“因此我会忠实与自己对你的承诺，但条件是你要合作。这是由你来做的选择。”   地方官可以听到那些挤在前排足够近的群众发出了表示抗议的呻吟，但贾克海尔德毫不理会他们。   “我的四匹马可一直等着呢。”他警告着。   克里普开始哭了。   “把他押到断头台上去。”地方官对守卫们命令道。这一次克里普没有再挣扎反抗，任由那些人把他拽过去，强迫他保持一个跪着的姿势，然后将他的头按倒。   “你答应过的。”克里普轻声哭诉着他最后的话语，但冷酷的地方官只是微笑着点点头。这表情并不是对这克里普的，而是冲着站在海盗身边的一个大个子。   巨大的斧子挥了下来，围观群众如同一个人般地齐声喘着气，然后爆发出了阵阵大吼。克里普·沙基的脑袋翻滚着掉落在台子上，并滚了一小段距离。一个警卫冲过去拣了起来，将脸部转向那具无头的尸体。因为传说中完美的断头术可以在挥砍一瞬之后守卫迅速捡起头颅之时这个可怜的人仍然会保持着一两秒的意识，这以使得他有足够的时间看到自己的尸体，而此时牺牲者的表情将会扭曲成一种最为纯粹、完美的恐惧。   不过这一次没有，因为克里普·沙基的表情仍然如同死前那一秒般悲伤。 *****   “漂亮，”莫里克在审判台另一端不无讽刺地嘀咕着，“但是，这是到目前为止我们剩下的几个人能够享受到的最好命运了。”   在他腰部两侧不管是沃夫加还是提阿尼尼都没有一句回答。   “真是漂亮。”已被命运注定的盗贼再次说了句。莫里克不那么习惯自己已经陷入了如此令人绝望的境地，但这回是他第一次感到自己完全没有了选择权。他先是轻蔑地瞪了一眼提阿尼尼，然后将注意力转向沃夫加。这个大个子看上去是如此冷漠、离周围的伤害是如此之远，以至于莫里克都在羡慕他这种遗忘的本事。   盗贼听到了贾克海尔德同围观者交流时那中持续的好像充满善意的笑声。他为处理克里普·沙基时没有体现出的娱乐感而道歉，解释着因为慈悲和宽容这种突发性情况还是应该被允许的。另外，大家为什么不这样认为：还是有人会老实地坦白自己的罪行的呢？   莫里克几乎溺毙在地方官那喋喋不休的话语之中，他坚持着头脑中的意志，将自己引领到一个安全和快乐的地方。他想到沃夫加，通过这一点来对抗着所有的不公平。他们已经成为了最好的朋友，曾经地，他们是竞争对手，新来的野蛮人在半月街名声一直保持着上升势头，特别是在他干掉了那个凶残的碎木者之后。为了保护自己所从事行业的最后一点声誉，莫里克曾考虑过必须要除去沃夫加，尽管谋杀决不是盗贼所认为的应该首选的处事方法。   之后在这两个最强者即将发生碰撞时，一个黑暗精灵－－一个该死的卓尔！－－来到了莫里克所租用的房间，事前令人毫无预知地来命令莫里克近距离地监视沃夫加，但不要伤到他。那黑暗精灵给了莫里克不少钱。考虑到作为报酬金币的确要比卓尔那边缘锋利的武器要好得多，盗贼长久以来一直遵守着这个计划，随着日子一天天过去，监视沃夫加的距离越来越近。他们已经变成了一队酒友，一起在甲板上度过后半夜，经常直到拂晓。   莫里克再也没从那些黑暗精灵那里接受到什么信息。如果那些卓尔突然来命令要他干掉沃夫加的话，盗贼很怀疑自己还能否会遵守约定。他现在认为，如果当时从黑暗精灵们处接到杀死野蛮人的指示，莫里克肯定会同沃夫加站到一条战线上的。   好吧，盗贼承认得更实际了，他可能不会站到沃夫加身边，但即便这样，他也会警告野蛮人，然后逃掉，逃得足够远。   现在则是无处可逃。莫里克再次暂时地怀疑起来：那些黑暗精灵是否会出现营救这个他们如此感兴趣的人类。也许会有一个团的卓尔战士即将在囚犯狂欢节上刮起狂风暴雨，用他们精良的武器切开这些以恐惧为乐的围观者们，就像他们此刻正在审判台上所做的那样。   幻想没有再持续下去，因为莫里克知道他们不会来救沃夫加乐。这一次不会的。   “我真的很抱歉，我的朋友。”他向沃夫加道歉着，因为莫里克一直坚持认为导致目前这种状况的绝大部分原因都是由于他的错误。   沃夫加没有回答。莫里克知道这个大个子甚至都没有听到他的话，他的朋友早就远离这个地方了，深深地坠入了自己的意识之中。   也许这样的确是种最好的方法。看着正在嘲笑着的乌合之众，听着贾克海尔德那持续不断的演讲，目送着克里普·沙基那具无头尸体被拖到审判台前，莫里克真希望他也能像野蛮人一样远离自己。 *****   地方官再一次述说着克里普·沙基所讲述的故事：其他这三个人是如何共谋想要谋杀那位最为卓越的人的，杜德蒙船长。贾克海尔德这一次走向沃夫加。他看着这个已被命运锁定的人，摇了摇头，然后重新面对观众，激励着他们作出反响。   传来的是一阵洪流般的嘲讽和咒骂。   “你是他们中最坏的！”贾克海尔德冲着野蛮人的脸吼叫道，“他是你的朋友，而你却出卖了他！”   “在杜德蒙的船上杀死他！”传来一名匿名围观者的要求。   “拉出去四马分尸，然后扔到海里喂鱼！”另一个人吼道。   贾克海尔德转向围观者举起了他的手，要求大家安静，而在这一瞬间，人们服从了。“这一个，”地方官说道，“我相信我们应该留到最后。”   这句话立刻激起了另一波合唱般的吼叫。   “今天会是怎样的一天啊，”贾克海尔德，这为马戏团老板说道，“三个人都是这样，他们都拒绝坦白自己的罪行！”   “公正。”莫里克呼吸间低声说着。   沃夫加直勾勾盯着前方，一眨不眨，可怜的莫里克现在唯一的想法就是让自己去嘲笑贾克海尔德那张丑陋的老脸。这地方官真的认为自己对沃夫加所造成的伤害折磨可以超过厄图吗？贾克海尔德可以在台上创造出凯蒂布莉尔并强奸她，然后在沃夫加面前将她肢解，就像厄图曾无数次做过的那样吗？他可以带来布鲁诺的幻影并一口咬穿矮人的头骨，随后再把矮人脑袋剩下的那部分做成一碗炖脑浆？他在沃夫加肉体上能施加比恶魔更多的伤害？那些恶魔已经通过千万年的时间将折磨变成了一门老练完美的艺术了。这一切的最后，难道贾克海尔德也能将沃夫加一次又一次地带离死亡边缘使得野蛮人能够不断重新开始体验新的恐惧？   沃夫加明白某些意义深远的东西，他会表现得很愉快的。这就是贾克海尔德以及他的舞台在深渊魔域面前显得如此惨白无力的原因。他会在这里死去。最后他会自由。 *****   贾克海尔德从野蛮人面前跑开，在莫里克面前来了个急刹车，将他那削瘦的脸抓在自己有力的手中，粗鲁地将莫里克转而面对自己。“你承认自己的罪行吗？”他尖叫道。   莫里克几乎就要承认了，几乎就要尖叫出来他的确参与共谋杀死杜德蒙。是的，他是这样想来着，一个计划开始在他的脑海里快速明朗。他会承认自己参与共谋，但只是同那个纹身海盗一起，他要尽力用某种方式救自己那清白的朋友。   但他的忧郁使自己错过了这次机会，因为贾克海尔德厌恶地喷着鼻息猛地在莫里克的脸上掴了一掌，同时用一枚夹子夹住了盗贼鼻子的下部，这一技术含量十足的动作使得阵阵剧痛传向莫里克的双眼。就当他在疼痛和惊奇间眨了眨眼时，贾克海尔德已经移走，迫近了提阿尼尼。   “提阿尼尼，”地方官说得很慢，为的是把每一个音节都抓准，他这种说话方式提醒了大家这个半人有多么奇怪、多么带有异国的特点。“告诉我，提阿尼尼，你参与的是什么样的角色？”   纹身的半曲兰人海盗眼睛直盯向前方，眨也不眨，也没有说话。   贾克海尔德将手猛地抓向空气，他的助手从审判台一边跑过来，递给他一个木头管子。   贾克海尔德当众检查着这个物件，将它展示给围观群众看。“通过这个表面上看毫不起眼的管子，我们这里的这位海盗可以吹出一枚飞镖，就像一名弓箭手射出一枝箭般准确，”他解释着，“而在那枚镖上－－例如，一枚小小的猫爪－－我们的海盗朋友可以涂上一些最为剧烈的毒药。这种混合物可以使血从你的眼中流出来，并带来高烧，体温高到可以将你的皮肤变成火烧般的颜色，或者让你的鼻子和喉咙充满黏液，使你的每一道呼吸都变得那么勉强和困难－－阵阵的剧痛只不过是他这种卑鄙技能所带来痛苦的一部分而已。”   围观者跟随着每一个词表演着，逐渐变得更为厌恶和愤怒。作为一个表演大师，贾克海尔德估量着他们的反应，对应着进行自己的演出，等待最佳的时机。   “你承认自己的罪行吗？”贾克海尔德突然冲着提阿尼尼的脸吼叫道。   纹身海盗仍然一副双眼发直不言不语的样子。如果他是一个纯血统的曲兰人，此刻他就可以施展一道混乱魔法，使地方官变得跌跌跄跄、语无伦次、困惑和健忘，但提阿尼尼没有纯正的血统，因此不会他这一种族所天生特有的魔法能力。但他拥有曲兰人的集中力，这种方式就像沃夫加一样，可以将自己从眼前的景象里移开。   “你会承认这一切的，”贾克海尔德承诺道，他在提阿尼尼面前生气地摇动着手指，丝毫没有察觉到海盗已经完全忽略了眼前地一切，“但现在已经太晚了。”   当警卫将海盗从捆绑的柱子上松开并把他拉到另一种折磨工具前面时观众开始进入一种疯狂的状态。在经过约一个半小时的殴打、鞭挞、在伤口上泼盐水，甚至用红热的拨火棍戳瞎了提阿尼尼的一只眼睛，海盗还是没有坑一声。没有招供，没有辩驳或求饶，连一声尖叫都没有。   随着耐心的逐渐失去，贾克海尔德走向莫里克，希望能让事情有所改变。他没有去问盗贼是否认罪。实际上每当莫里克想要说话时地方官都故意地反复掴着他的脸。他们很快地将莫里克绑在拉肢刑架（译者注：一种拉伸受害者肢体的工具或刑具）上，拷问者缓缓地转动着齿轮，几乎不为人察觉地（除了痛苦的莫里克）每分钟转动一点点。   在此期间，提阿尼尼一直在忍受着折磨所带来的冲击。当贾克海尔德再次走到他跟前时，海盗已经不能站立了，因此守卫们拉着他的双脚将他吊了起来。   “准备告诉我真相了吗？”贾克海尔德问。   提阿尼尼一口唾沫吐在他脸上。   “把马拉来！”地方官带着令人战栗的大怒尖叫道。围观者们则进入了野性的狂热。地方官动用四马分尸大刑并不是件常有的事。那些曾经目击过的人无不自夸称之为刑罚中最伟大的表演。   四匹白马，每一匹都拖着一条结实的绳索，被拉到广场。当马步上审判台时城镇警卫们不得不努力将挤上来的人群推回去。出于表演的目的地方官贾克海尔德指导着手下的每一个动作力求完美。很快提阿尼尼就被“安全”地套上了皮套，双腕和双踝各被系到一匹马上。   在地方官的信号下，骑手们轻催着他们那些强壮的坐骑，每两匹冲着相反的方向，构成一个十字。纹身海盗本能地绷紧了他肌肉，战斗般地向回拉着，但这种抵抗几乎没有什么用处。提阿尼尼被拉长到了肉体的极限。他哼哼着喘着气，那些骑手和他们经过良好训练的坐骑将海盗保持在这样一个极限。过了一会儿，一个肩膀传来了连接处突然折断所发出的巨大爆裂声；很快提阿尼尼的一条膝盖也被拉爆了。   贾克海尔德做出动作命令骑手们保持现状，然后他走到海盗面前，一手持刀一手拿鞭。他将闪着微光的刀锋显示给提阿尼尼看，在他眼前反复转动着。“我可以结束痛苦，”地方官许诺道，“承认你的罪行，然后我会很快地杀了你。”   纹身地半曲兰人咕哝着将视线转开。随着贾克海尔德的挥手，骑手们令他们的马又步出了几小步。   这个人的盆骨粉碎了，最后这一刻他吼叫得是多么凄惨啊！当皮肤开始剥裂时围观的群众出于感激喊叫得是多么热烈啊！   “认罪！”贾克海尔德吼叫道。   “我射了他！”提阿尼尼哭喊道。甚至就在围观者们能够发出失望的呻吟之前贾克海尔德吼道：“太晚了！”随后挥动了他的鞭子。   四匹马向前跳开，将提阿尼尼的双腿从他那残缺不全的身躯上撕落。然后另外两匹马将他的双腕拉成一条直线，就这一瞬间他的脸在火烧般痛苦和死亡的迫近中扭曲出了惊骇恐惧的表情，随后身体剩余的那一部分也被撕裂，他完全变成了四个部分。   有些人喘着气，有些人呕吐了，绝大多数则在野蛮地欢呼。 *****   “公正，”罗毕拉对正在出于厌恶而发着牢骚的杜德蒙说道，“正是这样的展示才使得谋杀成为了一种不流行的行业。”   杜德蒙喷着鼻息，“这样做只能满足人类那些最低级的感情。”他反驳。   “我不这么认为，”罗毕拉回答，“我不是制定法律的人，但不同于你的野蛮人朋友，我遵守着它们。难道我们需要对在远海抓住的那些海盗报以一丝同情心吗？”   “我们是在做自己必须做的事，”杜德蒙辩驳，“我们没有折磨他们来满足自己扭曲的欲望。”   “但我们以弄沉他们来取得满足，”罗毕拉针锋相对地反驳，“我们没有为他们的死亡而哭泣，而通常我们在追击海盗船的过程中也没有停下为了将他们从罪恶的深渊中拉出来。就算是当我们俘虏了他们之时，也只是随后把这些囚犯扔到最近的港口，通常是路斯坎，让他们受到眼前这样的审判。”   杜德蒙已经输掉了争辩，因此他的双眼只能直直地瞪着前方。但是，出于船长文明而有教养的思想，这种表演一点都不像公正的样子。 *****   还没等众多的服务人员擦干审判台前面广场上的血迹和污秽之前贾克海尔德酒回到了莫里克和沃夫加跟前。   “你看看让他承认真相要花多少时间呀？”地方官对莫里克说道，“太晚了，所以他痛苦到了最后。你愿意这样做，像个傻瓜一样吗？”   莫里克感觉到四肢好像已经开始断裂了似的，他开始回答，开始要承认罪行，但贾克海尔德把一根手指放到了这个人的嘴边。“现在还不是时候。”他解释道。   莫里克还想张嘴说话，于是贾克海尔德用两条破布阻止了他，一条揉成一团塞进他的嘴里，另一条则绑在头上以做固定。   地方官转到了拉肢刑架后面，拿出一个木头的小盒子，这通常被成为老鼠盒。观众的吼叫声证明了他们的兴奋。当认出这种可怕的刑具之后，莫里克的双眼开始瞪得大大的，他毫无效果地挣扎着对抗镣铐。他讨厌老鼠，一生都对此感到恐惧。   他最糟的噩梦成真了。   贾克海尔德再次回到审判台前面高高举起了盒子，转动着它使得观众们能够看到那精巧的设计。盒子的前端那一面是一张金属网，其他三面都有坚硬的木头构成。盒子的底部也是木头的，但那里留有一块可供滑动的嵌板，底下有一个洞作为出口。一只老鼠将会被塞进盒子，然后盒子将会被放到莫里克赤裸的腹部上，底部的门将会被开启。之后盒子会被点着。   那只老鼠将会从唯一可能的出口逃生－－那就是通过莫里克的身体。   一个戴手套的男人举着老鼠走了出来，快速将它放进盒子，然后把盒子摆在了盗贼的肚脐正上方。随后他并没有马上点燃它，而是先让那只动物开始跑动，它的接触着盗贼皮肤的脚爪小巧而锋利，每时每刻都刺痛着他。莫里克绝望地挣扎着。   贾克海尔德走向沃夫加。这使得围观群众中间的激动和快乐情绪上升到了一个新的高度，地方官想象着自己如何才能将之推到一个顶端，想象着自己能够对这个坚忍克制的庞然巨兽所做的一切，以及相比前两出处刑所能带来的更为精彩的风景。   “就像我们对你的朋友莫里克所做的那样？”地方官问道。   沃夫加，这个见过厄图所在位面心脏地带的人，这个已经被造物主细细咀嚼过的人，这个已经被一个军团的老鼠所恐惧过的人，没有作出任何回答。 *****   “他们已经将你摆到了最高位置来尊重了，”罗毕拉对杜德蒙说道，“路斯坎很少像这样如此奢侈地执行死刑。”   这些话在杜德蒙船长的脑海里发出阵阵回音，尤其是第一句。想到自己站在路斯坎的土地上所带来的就是眼前的这些。不，这样只会为虐待狂贾克海尔德如此对待那些犯人提供借口，就算其中某些的确有罪。杜德蒙一直不相信沃夫加或者莫里克参与了谋杀。特别是“如此做全是出于对他的尊敬”这样的说法更是使杜德蒙感到深深的厌恶。   “麦森先生！”他命令道，快速地涂写了一张便条递给这个年轻人。   “不！”罗毕拉坚持道，他明白了杜德蒙在想什么，清楚地知道这样大的一个举动将会牺牲掉整个海灵号，还有它的声望了支持者。“他们理应受死！”   “你这是在审判谁？”杜德蒙问道。   “不是我！”法师抗议道，“是他们。”他解释着，向围观者们挥舞着手臂。   杜德蒙轻蔑的嘲笑表明了这一想法的荒谬。   “船长，我们会被强迫离开路斯坎的，而且之后我们也不再会被欢迎。”罗毕拉指出。   “当下一批囚犯被拉出来满足人们的娱乐需求时他们就会忘掉的，可能就在明天的黎明。”船长露出一个歪歪斜斜毫无幽默感的微笑，“此外，不管怎么说你也不喜欢路斯坎。”   罗毕拉呻吟着、叹息着，举起双手示意已经败给杜德蒙了，这个受文明影响很大的人将便条塞给麦森，吩咐他冲向了地方官。 *****   “点燃盒子！”贾克海尔德从台上发出了命令，此时守卫们已经将沃夫加转了过来使得野蛮人可以目击到莫里克的痛苦。   沃夫加无法使自己远离眼前将老鼠盒子点燃的景象。这只被吓坏的动物满盒子乱跑着，然后开始挖洞。   在一个朋友身上造成如此疼痛的场面映入沃夫加眼帘，深入到他思想的私人领域，抓挠着他构筑的那堵否定的墙壁，此时老鼠已经咬开莫里克的皮肤钻了下去。野蛮人释放出一道怒吼，如此充满危险性、如此超乎自然之外的野性未驯，将那些紧盯着受苦受难莫里克的双双眼睛都转向了他。巨大的肌肉绷紧弯曲着，沃夫加猛地将他那伤痕累累的身体甩向一边，把那边抓着他的那人远远地掼了出去。野蛮人鞭打般地挥出一条腿，带动着铁球和锁链使它们扫向了身体另一边的那个家伙。一股巨大的力量将那个警卫直送到了广场上。   沃夫加拉扯着，当其他那些人猛打他，当那些棍子雨点般落到他身上，当贾克海尔德由于莫里克吐出了堵嘴的布团这一打乱他娱乐计划的突发事情而怒火中烧大声喊叫时，不知出于何故，令人不能相信地，强壮的沃夫加在拉扯中使双臂获得了自由，突然扑向拉肢刑架。   一个个守卫向他冲过来。他将他们又都扔了开去，好像当这些人是孩子一样，但这些冲击使得沃夫加无法再向莫里克迈近一步，此时盗贼已经因为痛苦而开始尖叫了。   “把那东西拿开！”莫里克喊道。   突然间沃夫加脸朝地摔在了地上。贾克海尔德刚才挪到了足够近的距离之后将手中的鞭子响亮地“啪”地一声狠狠地挥到了大个子的背上！   “承认你的罪行！”激怒的地方官在他邪恶地鞭打着沃夫加的时候要求道。   沃夫加吼叫着、挣扎着、又一个守卫摔了出去，然后接下来那个的鼻子就像条大鼻涕虫一样黏满了自己的脸。   “把它拿开！”莫里克再次哭喊。   围观者爱死这种场面了。贾克海尔德确切地感受到自己的演出技巧已经到达了一个新的层次。   “停下！”从观众中传来了一声喊叫，成功地穿透了人们的吼声和啐骂声，“够了！”   但当围观群众转头并认出说话者是海灵号的杜德蒙船长时，激动和兴奋迅速地消失死寂了。杜德蒙面色憔悴地倚在一根藤条上。   当威廉·麦森穿越守卫登上审判台时地方官贾克海尔德的颤抖只能变得更为剧烈。麦森冲到地方官身边将杜德蒙的便条递给他看。   地方官将它拉直展开，读着上面的字。出于惊奇，甚至是有些被吓晕了，他被上面的话刺激得更为愤怒了。贾克海尔德抬头看向杜德蒙，同时有目的地指示一个警卫再次塞住了一直在尖叫的莫里克的嘴，而其他人则将被打得奄奄一息的沃夫加的双腿重新锁起来。   在毫不关心自己和对什么正在折磨着莫里克毫不之情的情况下，沃夫加还是从抓着他的人手中争取到了一点时间。他挣扎蹒跚着，在跌倒前挥动了悬在脚上的铁球和锁链，成功地触到、并将放在莫里克腹部的正在燃烧的老鼠盒子打了下来。   他再次被殴打，并拖到贾克海尔德面前。   “这样做只会使莫里克变得更糟。”虐待狂地方官冷冷地承诺道，他转向杜德蒙，脸上是一种明显被侮辱的神色。“杜德蒙船长！”他叫道，“作为受害人和一个被公认的贵族，你的确有权力递上这样一张便条，但是你真的肯定要这样做吗？在这样一个最后时刻？”   杜德蒙向前走去，毫不理会周围那些抱怨和抗议，甚至是威胁，嗜杀成性的人群中他高高地站在那里，“证明克里普·沙基和那个纹身海盗有罪的证据是牢不可破的，”他解释道，“但它也是似是而非的，据莫里克所说，真正的计划是他和沃夫加来承受罪责，而那两个则只需要享受报酬。”   “但是，”贾克海尔德争辩着，用手指着空气，“这种讲法同样也是似是而非的啊，根据克里普·沙基所说的，一次共谋使得他们都有罪。”   围观者们感到困惑，怀疑着他们的娱乐可能就要结束了，出于这样的想法，他们总觉得自己更喜欢地方官贾克海尔德的解释。   “那么裘西·帕杜斯的故事听起来也不就变得似是而非了吗，一个与盗贼莫里克和沃夫加有着非比寻常关系的人。”贾克海尔德继续说道，“也许我提醒了您，船长，野蛮人甚至都没有拒绝克里普·沙基的要求。”   杜德蒙看向沃夫加，野蛮人还是继续保持着他那除了怒火冲天外没有其他一丝表情的姿势。   “杜德蒙船长，你能够证明这个人的清白吗？”贾克海尔德指着沃夫加问道，说话的声音又慢又响，以让全部人都能听到。   “我没有这个权力，”杜德蒙在那些嗜血乡下人的抗议呼喊声中回答，“我不能决定有罪或者清白，但却可以提供你眼前条子上所写的那些。”   地方官贾克海尔德慌忙地再次看向那张便条，然后举着它将之展示给微观群众看。“一封宽恕沃夫加的信。”他解释道。   人们就像众位一体般安静了下来，然后便开始了冲撞、喊叫和咒骂。一时间杜德蒙和贾克海尔德都害怕可能会发生暴乱。   “这真是个愚蠢的主意！”贾克海尔德咆哮道。   “据您所称，我是个有着尊贵地位的访问者，地方官贾克海尔德，”杜德蒙冷静地回答，“凭着这种地位我要求本城宽恕沃夫加，而且凭着这种地位我希望您能尊重这一要求，或者起码能面对你上级的质问。”   这一下状况变得完全坦白、果断、让人没有一丝回转的空间了。贾克海尔德被限制住了，杜德蒙和地方官都知道，因为的确，船长完全有权力提供这样一个宽恕。这些话是不同寻常的，一般来说被宽恕者的家族都需要付出一大笔开销，但这种状况却从没有像今天一样以如此戏剧性的方式出现过。就在罪犯狂欢节上，在贾克海尔德最伟大的表演秀中最为重要的一刻！   “沃夫加去死！”人群中有人在大叫，其他人也参予了进来，而在这危急的时刻贾克海尔德和杜德蒙的视线都盯着沃夫加。   他们的表情对野蛮人来说根本毫无意义，他仍然沉浸在对死亡所带来的自由的想象之中，也许这是他逃离那常浮现在脑海中的记忆最好的一次机会了。而当沃夫加看向莫里克时，这个人的躯体伸长到几乎都要被拉断了，他腹部胃的位置满是鲜血，警卫们正将另一只老鼠带过来，野蛮人知道这不是选择不选择的问题，盗贼对他的忠诚无以复加。   “我同那次袭击一点关系都没有，”沃夫加有气无力地公然宣告，“相信我，要不就杀了我吧。这一切对我来说都没什么大不了的了。”   “这下你可听到了，贾克海尔德地方官，”杜德蒙说道，“放了他，如果你愿意这样做的话。请尊重我作为路斯坎一位地位尊贵的访问者所作出的宽恕。”   贾克海尔德盯着杜德蒙看了很长时间。老家伙明显地不想赞成这一主张，但他还是冲警卫们点点头，随后沃夫加被迅速地从他们的掌握之中释放出来。在贾克海尔德的命令发出好一会儿，才有个人战战兢兢地拿着把钥匙来到沃夫加脚边，解开了铁球和锁链脚镣。   “带他离开这儿。”生气的贾克海尔德指示道，但大个子对守卫们试图将他推下审判台的举动做出了抵抗。   “莫里克是无辜的。”沃夫加宣称道。   “什么？”贾克海尔德惊呼道，“拉他走！”   沃夫加的强壮是超出了守卫们的想象的，他一动不动地站在那里。“我声明盗贼莫里克的清白！”他喊道，“他什么也没做，如果你还要这么对他，那么你所做的只是为了满足你那恶魔般的欲望，而不是以公正之名！”   “你们两个说得可真像啊。”罗毕拉带着明显的厌恶来到船长身后对杜德蒙悄声说道。   “贾克海尔德地方官！”船长的声音压过了群众的喊叫。   贾克海尔德眼睛直直地盯着他，想知道接下来该怎么办。船长只是点了点头。愁眉苦脸的地方官猛地撕掉他那些羊皮纸文件，愤怒地冲他那些守卫挥挥手，之后一阵风般狂怒地离开了审判台。同样狂怒的人群向前挤压着，但城镇警卫将他们顶了回去。   宽宽的微笑中，向着那些想要对他唾吐的乡下人伸伸舌头，莫里克跟在沃夫加后面，被半拖半抬地带离了审判台。 *****   莫里克花费了走向地方官办公室路上的几乎所有时间来安慰沃夫加。盗贼能够分辨出大个子此时的表情又回到了沃夫加曾被锁在自己那些可怕回忆中时的样子。他担心野蛮人会撕开墙壁杀掉地方官一半以上的助手。盗贼的腹部还是血淋淋的，他的胳膊和双腿也传来了比以往都要厉害的疼痛。他可一点都不想再回到囚犯狂欢节上去了。   莫里克想象着他们被带到贾克海尔德面前时的样子。那景象肯定会给沃夫加以爆炸性的刺激，这使得他的恐惧又加深了一些。令他感到安慰的是，陪同的警卫避开了贾克海尔德的办公室，转而来到了一间小小的、毫无特征的房间。一个神情紧张不安的小个子坐在一张巨大的桌子后面，桌面上垃圾般堆着些论乱不堪的纸张。   一个守卫将杜德蒙的便条呈现给这个人看。他快速地瞥了一眼，鼻子里哼了一声，因为他早就得知了囚犯狂欢节上令人失望的表现。这个小个子飞快地将自己签名的手写字母涂在了便条上，完成了其已被回复和接受的程序。   “你们并不是清白的，”他将便条递给沃夫加，说道，“你们这些流氓也不能宣告自己是清白的。”   “我们已经被告知可以自由地离开。”莫里克争辩。   “确实，”这个官僚说道，“但不是真正自由地离开，而是被强迫离开。你们能逃脱死刑是因为杜德蒙船长显然不忍心看到对你们的处罚，但他也明白在路斯坎的眼中你们是被判有罪的。因此，你们将被终生驱逐。从大门滚出城去，如果你们在城里被再次抓到，那么你俩就会最后一次面对囚犯狂欢节了。就算是杜德蒙船长也不能再为你们求情了。懂了吗？”   “不算困难的任务。”莫里克回答。   那个蛀虫官僚盯着他看了看，而莫里克只是耸耸肩。   “带他们离开这里。”这个人命令道。一个守卫走过来抓住莫里克的胳膊，另一个想要抓住沃夫加，但野蛮人只是动了动肩膀并投过来一道目光，便使得这个家伙认识到最好还是别这么做。但沃夫加还是一路走了出去没有争辩，很快，这一对伙伴就来到了阳光下，没有镣铐束缚的他们这些天来第一次感受到了自由。   但令两人惊奇的是，警卫并没有立刻离开他们，而是将他们一路护送到了城市的东城门门口。   “出去，别再回来了。”他们中的一个这样说道，随后大门在两人身后“呯”地关上了。   “为什么我还非要回到你们这个肮脏的城市？”莫里克喊道，然后在那些士兵从城墙上往下看时摆了几个下流而带有污辱性的姿势。   一个守卫举起把十字弩瞄准了莫里克，“瞧啊，”他说道，“那只小老鼠想要偷溜回城。”   莫里克知道是时候该离开了，而且要马上。他转过身开始这样做，随后回头看向那个士兵时，发现那人脸上表现出机警的表情，快速降低了手中的弓。而当莫里克看向背后时，他明白了，因为杜德蒙船长和他的法师伙伴正在快速走过来。   一瞬间，所发生的一切让莫里克认为杜德蒙将他们从贾克海尔德手中救出来只是因为他渴望能由自己来更为严格地执行这一惩罚。这种恐惧只存在了一小会儿，因为船长笔直走向了沃夫加，两眼狠狠地盯着他但没有做出任何威胁性的动作。沃夫加迎上了他的目光，没有眨眼也没有畏缩。   “你所说的都是真的吗？”杜德蒙问道。   沃夫加打了个鼻息，很明显这就是船长所能得到的所有的回答。   “沃夫加，贝奥尼加之子，你身上到底发生了什么事？”杜德蒙静静地说道。沃夫加转过身要走开，但船长冲到了他的前面，“你欠我这个，至少。”他说道。   “我什么都不欠你。”沃夫加回答。   杜德蒙对这个答复考虑了一会儿，莫里克知道这位海员正在努力想从沃夫加的观点里看出些什么。   “同意，”船长说道，而罗毕拉则不愉快地鼓了鼓腮帮子，“你有权利宣布你的清白。这么一说，你就不欠我了，因为我除了正确的事情外什么都没干。现在凭着以前的友情请听我说。”   沃夫加冷冷地看着他，但并没有立刻走开。   “我不知道是什么使你堕落了，我的朋友，什么将你从像崔斯特·杜垩登和凯蒂布莉尔那样的伙伴身边引开，还有你的养父，布鲁诺，这个将你带大并教你为人处世的矮人，”船长说道，“我只能祈祷那三位还有半身人能够平安。”   杜德蒙停了一下，但沃夫加什么都没说。   “酒瓶子里是无法得到永久的慰藉的，我的朋友，”船长说，“而替酒馆防范那些普通的顾客也不是什么英雄的行为。为什么你要放弃你所知的这个世界？”   听够了之后，沃夫加开始走开了。当船长再次步入他身前时，大个子仍然以毫不减慢的速度前行，莫里克则跌跌跄跄地跟在后头。   “我给你提供出路。”杜德蒙毫无预兆地（甚至对杜德蒙自己而言）在他身后喊道。   “船长！”罗毕拉表示抗议，但杜德蒙甩开他，踉跄地跟在沃夫加和莫里克后面。   “和我一起到海灵号上去，”杜德蒙说道，“我们可以一起猎杀海盗保护剑湾那些正直的水手。你会从中找回你自己的，我保证！”   “我只想听到你对我的定义，”沃夫加阐明道，他回转身让莫里克保持安静，因为盗贼看上去正在为所提供的条件所迷惑，“其他我什么都不想听。”沃夫加转过身继续上路。   下颚长得大大的，莫里克眼看着他离开。但他回转身时，杜德蒙已经同样退回到了城内。但罗毕拉仍然留在原地一副酸溜溜的表情。   “也许我可以？”莫里克开始边问边走向法师。   “快点给我消失，盗贼，”罗毕拉威胁道，“除非你想变成路边的一块烂泥，等待着下一次雨水把你冲走。”   聪明的莫里克，最终的生存者，这个讨厌法师的人，没有再说第二遍。

jarod 发表于 2005-6-7 02:07

原文： Chapter 13 PRISONER'S CARNIVAL It was an hour of beatings and taunting, of eager peasants throwing rotten food and spitting in their faces. It was an hour that Wulfgar didn't even register. The man was so far removed from the spectacle of Prisoner's Carnival, so well hidden within a private emotional place, a place created through the mental discipline that had allowed him to survive the torments of Errtu, that he didn't even see the twisted, perverted faces of the peasants or hear the magistrate's assistant stirring up the mob for the real show when Jharkheld joined them on the huge stage. The barbarian was bound, as were the other three, with his hands behind his back and secured to a strong wooden post. Weights were chained about his ankles and another one around his neck, heavy enough to bow the head of powerful Wulfgar. He had recognized the crowd with crystalline clarity. The drooling peasants, screaming for blood and torture, the excited, almost elated, ogre guards working the crowd, and the unfortunate prisoners. He'd seen them for what they were, and his mind had transformed them into something else, something demonic, the twisted, leering faces of Errtu's minions, slobbering over him with their acidic drool, nipping at him with their sharpened fangs and horrid breath. He smelled the fog of Errtu's home again, the sulphuric Abyss burning his nostrils and his throat, adding an extra sting to all of his many, many wounds. He felt the itching of the centipedes and spiders crawling over and inside his skin. Always on the edge of death. Always wishing for it. As those torments had continued, day after week after month, Wulfgar had found his escape in a tiny corner of his consciousness. Locked inside, he was oblivious to his surroundings. Here at the carnival he went to that place. One by one the prisoners were taken from the posts and paraded about, sometimes close enough to be abused by the peasants, other times led to instruments of torture. Those included cross ties for whipping; a block and tackle designed to hoist victims into the air by a pole lashed under their arms locked behind their back; ankle stocks to hang prisoners upside down in buckets of filthy water, or, in the case of unfortunate Creeps Sharky, a bucket of urine. Creeps cried through most of it, while Tee-a-nicknick and Wulfgar stoically accepted whatever punishment the magistrate's assistant could dish out without a sound other than the occasional, unavoidable gasp of air being blasted from their lungs. Morik took it all in stride, protesting his innocence and throwing witty comments about, which only got him beaten all the worse. Magistrate Jharkheld appeared, entering to howls and cheers, wearing a thick black robe and cap, and carrying a silver scroll tube. He moved to the center of the stage, standing between the prisoners to eye them deliberately one by one. Jharkheld stepped out front. With a dramatic flourish he presented the scroll tube, the damning documents, bringing eager shouts and cheers. Each movement distinct, with an appropriate response mounting to a crescendo, Jharkheld popped the cap from the tube's end and removed the documents. Unrolling them, the magistrate showed the documents to the crowd one at a time, reading each prisoner's name. The magistrate surely seemed akin to Errtu, the carnival barker, ordering the torments. Even his voice sounded to the barbarian like that of the balor: grating, guttural, inhuman. "I shall tell to you a tale," Jharkheld began, "of treachery and deceit, of friendship abused and murder attempted for profit. That man!" he said powerfully, pointing to Creeps Sharky, "that man told it to me in full, and the sheer horror of it has stolen my sleep every night since." The magistrate went on to detail the crime as Sharky had presented it. All of it had been Morik's idea, according to the wretch. Morik and Wulfgar had lured Deudermont into the open so that Tee-a-nicknick could sting him with a poisoned dart. Morik was supposed to sting the honorable captain, too, using a different variety of poison to ensure that the priests could not save the man, but the city guard had arrived too quickly for that second assault. Throughout the planning, Creeps Sharky had tried to talk them out of it, but he'd said nothing to anyone else out of fear of Wulfgar. The big man had threatened to tear his head from his shoulders and kick it down every street in Luskan. Enough of those gathered in the crowd had fallen victim to Wulfgar's enforcer tactics at the Cutlass to find that last part credible. "You four are charged with conspiracy and intent to heinously murder goodman Captain Deudermont, a visitor in excellent standing to our fair city," Jharkheld said when he completed the story and let the howls and jeers from the crowd die away. "You four are charged with the infliction of serious harm to the same. In the interest of justice and fairness, we will hear your answers to these charges." He walked over to Creeps Sharky. "Did I relate the tale as you told it to me?" he asked. "You did sir, you did," Creeps Sharky eagerly replied. "They done it, all of it!" Many in the crowd yelled out their doubts about that, while others merely laughed at the man, so pitiful did he sound. "Mister Sharky," Jharkheld went on, "do you admit your guilt to the first charge?" "Innocent!" Sharky protested, sounding confident that his cooperation had allowed him to escape the worst of the carnival, but the jeers of the crowd all but drowned out his voice. "Do you admit your guilt to the second charge against you?" "Innocent!" the man said defiantly, and he gave a gap-toothed smile to the magistrate. "Guilty!" cried an old woman. "Guilty he is, and deserving to die horrible for trying to blame the others!" A hundred cries arose agreeing with the woman, but Creeps Sharky held fast his smile and apparent confidence. Jharkheld walked out to the front of the platform and patted his hands in the air, trying to calm the crowd. When at last they quieted he said, "The tale of Creeps Sharky has allowed us to convict the others. Thus, we have promised leniency to the man for his cooperation." That brought a rumble of boos and derisive whistles. "For his honesty and for the fact that he, by his own words-undisputed by the others-was not directly involved." "I'll dispute it!" Morik cried, and the crowd howled. Jharkheld merely motioned to one of the guards, and Morik got the butt of a club slammed into his belly. More boos erupted throughout the crowd, but Jharkheld denied the calls and a smile widened on the face of clever Creeps Sharky. "We promised him leniency," Jharkheld said, throwing up his hands as if there was nothing he could do about it. "Thus, we shall kill him quickly." That stole the smile from the face of Creeps Sharky and turned the chorus of boos into roars of agreement. Sputtering protests, his legs failing him, Creeps Sharky was dragged to a block and forced to kneel before it. "Innocent I am!" he cried, but his protest ended abruptly as one of the guards forced him over the block, slamming his face against the wood. A huge executioner holding a monstrous axe stepped up to the block. "The blow won't fall clean if you struggle," a guard advised him. Creeps Sharky lifted his head. "But ye promised me!" The guards slammed him back down on the block. "Quit yer wiggling!" one of them ordered. The terrified Creeps jerked free and fell to the platform, rolling desperately. There was pandemonium as the guards grabbed at him. He kicked wildly, the crowd howled and laughed, and cries of "Hang him!" "Keel haul!" and other horrible suggestions for execution echoed from every corner of the square. ***** "Lovely gathering," Captain Deudermont said sarcastically to Robillard. They stood with several other members of Sea Sprite among the leaping and shouting folk. "Justice," the wizard stated firmly. "I wonder," the captain said pensively. "Is it justice, or entertainment? There is a fine line, my friend, and considering this almost daily spectacle, it's one I believe the authorities in Luskan long ago crossed." "You were the one who wanted to come here," Robillard reminded him. "It is my duty to be here in witness," Deudermont answered. "I meant here in Luskan," Robillard clarified. "You wanted to come to this city, Captain. I preferred Waterdeep." Deudermont fixed his wizard friend with a stern stare, but he had no rebuttal to offer. ***** "Stop yer wiggling!" the guard yelled at Creeps, but the dirty man fought all the harder, kicking and squealing desperately. He managed to evade their grasps for some time to the delight of the onlookers who were thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. Creeps's frantic movements brought his gaze in line with Jharkheld. The magistrate fixed him with a glare so intense and punishing that Creeps stopped moving. "Draw and quarter him," Jharkheld said slowly and deliberately. The gathering reached a new level of joyous howling. Creeps had witnessed that ultimate form of execution only twice in his years, and that was enough to steal the blood from his face, to send him into a fit of trembling, to make him, right there in front of a thousand onlookers, wet himself. "Ye promised," he mouthed, barely able to draw breath, but loud enough for the magistrate to hear and come over to him. "I did promise leniency," Jharkheld said quietly, "and so I will honor my word to you, but only if you cooperate. The choice is yours to make." Those in the crowd close enough to hear groaned their protests, but Jharkheld ignored them. "I have four horses in waiting," Jharkheld warned. Creeps started crying. "Take him to the block," the magistrate instructed the guards. This time Creeps made no move against them, offered no resistance at all as they dragged him back, forced him into a kneeling position, and pushed his head down. "Ye promised," Creeps softly cried his last words, but the cold magistrate only smiled and nodded. Not to Creeps, but to the large man standing beside him. The huge axe swept down, the crowd gasped as one, then broke into howls. The head of Creeps Sharky tumbled to the platform and rolled a short distance. One of the guards rushed to it and held it up, turning it to face the headless body. Legend had it that with a perfect, swift cut and a quick guard the beheaded man might still be conscious for a split second, long enough to see his own body, his face contorted into an expression of the purest, most exquisite horror. Not this time, though, for Creeps Sharky wore the same sad expression. ***** "Beautiful," Morik muttered sarcastically at the other end of the platform. "Yet, it's a better fate by far than the rest of us will find this day." Flanking him on either side, neither Wulfgar nor Tee-a-nicknick offered a reply. "Just beautiful," the doomed rogue said again. Morik was not unaccustomed to finding himself in rather desperate situations, but this was the first time he ever felt himself totally without options. He shot Tee-a-nicknick a look of utter contempt then turned his attention to Wulfgar. The big man seemed so impassive and distanced from the mayhem around them that Morik envied him his oblivion. The rogue heard Jharkheld's continuing banter as he worked up the crowd. He apologized for the rather unentertaining execution of Creeps Sharky, explaining the occasional need for such mercy. Else, why would anyone ever confess? Morik drowned out the magistrate's blather and willed his mind to a place where he was safe and happy. He thought of Wulfgar, of how, against all odds, they had become friends. Once they had been rivals, the new barbarian rising in reputation on Half-Moon Street, particularly after he had killed the brute, Tree Block Breaker. The only remaining operator with a reputation to protect, Morik had considered eliminating Wulfgar, though murder had never really been the rogue's preferred method. Then there had come the strangest of encounters. A dark elf-a damned drow!-had come to Morik in his rented room, had just walked in without warning, and had bade Morik to keep a close watch over Wulfgar but not to hurt the man. The dark elf had paid Morik well. Realizing that gold coins were better payment than the sharpened edge of drow weapons, the rogue had gone along with the plan, watching Wulfgar more and more closely as the days slipped past. They'd even becoming drinking partners, spending late nights, often until dawn, together at the docks. Morik had never heard from that dark elf again. If the order had come from for him to eliminate Wulfgar, he doubted he would have accepted the contract. He realized now that if he heard the dark elves were coming to kill the barbarian, Morik would have stood by Wulfgar. Well, the rogue admitted more realistically, he might not have stood beside Wulfgar, but he would have warned the barbarian, then run far, far away. Now there was nowhere to run. Morik wondered briefly again if those dark elves would show up to save this human in whom they had taken such an interest. Perhaps a legion of drow warriors would storm Prisoner's Carnival, their fine blades slicing apart the macabre onlookers as they worked their way to the platform. The fantasy could not hold, for Morik knew they would not be coming for Wulfgar. Not this time. "I am truly sorry, my friend," he apologized to Wulfgar, for Morik could not dismiss the notion that this situation was largely his fault. Wulfgar didn't reply. Morik understood that the big man had not even heard his words, that his friend was already gone from this place, fallen deep within himself. Perhaps that was the best course to take. Looking at the sneering mob, hearing Jharkheld's continuing speech, watching the headless body of Creeps Sharky being dragged across the platform, Morik wished that he, too, could so distance himself. ***** The magistrate again told the tale of Creeps Sharky, of how these other three had conspired to murder that most excellent man, Captain Deudermont. Jharkheld made his way over to Wulfgar. He looked at the doomed man, shook his head, then turned back to the mob, prompting a response. There came a torrent of jeers and curses. "You are the worst of them all!" Jharkheld yelled in the barbarian's face. "He was your friend, and you betrayed him!" "Keel haul 'im on Deudermont's own ship!" came one anonymous demand. "Draw and quarter and feed 'im to the fishes!" yelled another. Jharkheld turned to the crowd and lifted his hand, demanding silence, and after a bristling moment they obeyed. "This one," the magistrate said, "I believe we shall save for last." That brought another chorus of howls. "And what a day we shall have," said Jharkheld, the showman barker. "Three remaining, and all of them refusing to confess!" "Justice," Morik whispered under his breath. Wulfgar stared straight ahead, unblinkingly, and only thoughts of poor Morik held him from laughing in Jharkheld's ugly old face. Did the magistrate really believe that he could do anything to Wulfgar worse than the torments of Errtu? Could Jharkheld produce Catti-brie on the stage and ravish her, then dismember her in front of Wulfgar, as Errtu had done so many times? Could he bring in an illusionary Bruenor and bite through the dwarf's skull, then use the remaining portion of the dwarf's head as a bowl for brain stew? Could he inflict more physical pain upon Wulfgar than the demon who had practiced such torturing arts for millennia? At the end of it all, could Jharkheld bring Wulfgar back from the edge of death time and again so that it would begin anew? Wulfgar realized something profound and actually brightened. This was where Jharkheld and his stage paled against the Abyss. He would die here. At last he would be free. ***** Jharkheld ran from the barbarian, skidding to a stop before Morik and grabbing the man's slender face in his strong hand, turning Morik roughly to face him. "Do you admit your guilt?" he screamed. Morik almost did it, almost screamed out that he had indeed conspired to kill Deudermont. Yes, he thought, a quick plan formulating in his mind. He would admit to the conspiracy, but with the tattooed pirate only, trying to somehow save his innocent friend. His hesitation cost him the chance at that time, for Jharkheld gave a disgusted snort and snapped a backhanded blow across Morik's face, clipping the underside of the rogue's nose, a stinging technique that brought waves of pain shifting behind Morik's eyes. By the time the man blinked away his surprise and pain, Jharkheld had moved on, looming before Tee-a-nicknick. "Tee-a-nicknick," the magistrate said slowly, emphasizing every syllable, his method reminding the gathering of how strange, how foreign, this half-man was. "Tell me, Tee-a-nicknick, what role did you play?" The tattooed half-qullan pirate stared straight ahead, did not blink, and did not speak. Jharkheld snapped his fingers in the air, and his assistant ran out from the side of the platform, handing Jharkheld a wooden tube. Jharkheld publicly inspected the item, showing it to the crowd. "With this seemingly innocent pole, our painted friend here can blow forth a dart as surely as an archer can launch an arrow," he explained. "And on that dart, the claw of a small cat, for instance, our painted friend can coat some of the most exquisite poisons. Concoctions that can make blood leak from your eyes, bring a fever so hot as to turn your skin the color of fire, or fill your nose and throat with enough phlegm to make every breath a forced and wretched-tasting labor are but a sampling of his vile repertoire." The crowd played on every word, growing more disgusted and angry. Master of the show, Jharkheld measured their response and played to them, waiting for the right moment. "Do you admit your guilt?" Jharkheld yelled suddenly in Tee-a-nicknick's face. The tattooed pirate stared straight ahead, did not blink, and did not speak. Had he been full-blooded qullan, he might have cast a confusion spell at that moment, sending the magistrate stumbling away, baffled and forgetful, but Tee-a-nicknick was not pure blooded and had none of the innate magical abilities of his race. He did have qullan concentration, though, a manner, much like Wulfgar's, of removing himself from the present scene before him. "You shall admit all," Jharkheld promised, wagging his finger angrily in the man's face, unaware of the pirate's heritage and discipline, "but it will be too late." The crowd went into a frenzy as the guards pulled the pirate free of his binding post and dragged him from one instrument of torture to another. After about half an hour of beating and whipping, pouring salt water over the wounds, even taking one of Tee-a-nicknick's eyes with a hot poker, the pirate still showed no signs of speaking. No confession, no pleading or begging, hardly even a scream. Frustrated beyond endurance, Jharkheld went to Morik just to keep things moving. He didn't even ask the man to confess. In fact he slapped Morik viciously and repeatedly every time the man tried to say a word. Soon they had Morik on the rack, the torturer giving the wheel a slight, almost imperceptible (except to the agonized Morik) turn every few minutes. Meanwhile, Tee-a-nicknick continued to bear the brunt of the torment. When Jharkheld went to him again, the pirate couldn't stand, so the guards pulled him to his feet and held him. "Ready to tell me the truth?" Jharkheld asked. Tee-a-nicknick spat in his face. "Bring the horses!" the magistrate shrieked, trembling with rage. The crowd went wild. It wasn't often that the magistrate went to the trouble of a drawing and quartering. Those who had witnessed it boasted it was the greatest show of all. Four white horses, each trailing a sturdy rope, were ridden into the square. The crowd was pushed back by the city guard as the horses approached the platform. Magistrate Jharkheld guided his men through the precise movements of the show. Soon Tee-a-nicknick was securely strapped in place, wrists and ankles bound one to each horse. On the magistrate's signal, the riders nudged their powerful beasts, one toward each point on the compass. The tattooed pirate instinctively bunched up his muscles, fighting back, but resistance was useless. Tee-a-nicknick was stretched to the limits of his physical coil. He grunted and gasped, and the riders and their well-trained mounts kept him at the very limits. A moment later, there came the loud popping of a shoulder snapping out of joint; soon after one of Tee-a-nicknick's knees exploded. Jharkheld motioned for the riders to hold steady, and he walked over to the man, a knife in one hand and a whip in the other. He showed the gleaming blade to the groaning Tee-a-nicknick, rolling it over and over before the man's eyes. "I can end the agony," the magistrate promised. "Confess your guilt, and I will kill you swiftly." The tattooed half-qullan grunted and looked away. On Jharkheld's wave, the riders stepped their horses out a bit more. The man's pelvis shattered, and how he howled at last! How the crowd yelled in appreciation as the skin started to rip! "Confess!" Jharkheld yelled. "I stick him!" Tee-a-nicknick cried. Before the crowd could even groan its disappointment Jharkheld yelled, "Too late!" and cracked his whip. The horses jumped away, tearing Tee-a-nicknick's legs from his torso. Then the two horses bound to the man's wrists had him out straight, his face twisted in the horror of searing agony and impending death for just an instant before quartering that portion as well. Some gasped, some vomited, and most cheered wildly. ***** "Justice," Robillard said to the growling, disgusted Deudermont. "Such displays make murder an unpopular profession." Deudermont snorted. "It merely feeds the basest of human emotions," he argued. "I don't disagree," Robillard replied. "I don't make the laws, but unlike your barbarian friend, I abide by them. Are we any more sympathetic to pirates we catch out on the high seas?" "We do as we must," Deudermont argued. "We do not torture them to sate our twisted hunger." "But we take satisfaction in sinking them," Robillard countered. "We don't cry for their deaths, and often, when we are in pursuit of a companion privateer, we do not stop to pull them from the sharks. Even when we do take them as prisoners, we subsequently drop them at the nearest port, often Luskan, for justice such as this." Deudermont had run out of arguments, so he just stared ahead. Still, to the civilized and cultured captain's thinking, this display in no way resembled justice. ***** Jharkheld went back to work on Morik and Wulfgar before the many attendants had even cleared the blood and grime from the square in front of the platform. "You see how long it took him to admit the truth?" the magistrate said to Morik. "Too late, and so he suffered to the end. Will you be as much a fool?" Morik, whose limbs were beginning to pull past the breaking point, started to reply, started to confess, but Jharkheld put a finger over the man's lips. "Now is not the time," he explained. Morik started to speak again, so Jharkheld had him tightly gagged, a dirty rag stuffed into his mouth, another tied about his head to secure it. The magistrate moved around the back of the rack and produced a small wooden box, the rat box it was called. The crowd howled its pleasure. Recognizing the horrible instrument, Morik's eyes popped wide and he struggled futilely against the unyielding bonds. He hated rats, had been terrified of them all of his life. His worst nightmare was coming true. Jharkheld came to the front of the platform again and held the box high, turning it slowly so that the crowd could see its ingenious design. The front was a metal mesh cage, the other three walls and the ceiling solid wood. The bottom was wooden as well, but it had a sliding panel that left an exit hole. A rat would be pushed into the box, then the box would be put on Morik's bared belly and the bottom door removed. Then the box would be lit on fire. The rat would escape through the only means possible-through Morik. A gloved man came out holding the rat and quickly got the boxed creature in place atop Morik's bared belly. He didn't light it then, but rather, let the animal walk about, its feet tapping on flesh, every now and then nipping. Morik struggled futilely. Jharkheld went to Wulfgar. Given the level of excitement and enjoyment running through the mob, the magistrate wondered how he would top it all, wondered what he might do to this stoic behemoth that would bring more spectacle than the previous two executions. "Like what we're doing to your friend Morik?" the magistrate asked. Wulfgar, who had seen the bowels of Errtu's domain, who had been chewed by creatures that would terrify an army of rats, did not reply. ***** "They hold you in the highest regard," Robillard remarked to Deudermont. "Rarely has Luskan seen so extravagant a multiple execution." The words echoed in Captain Deudermont's mind, particularly the first sentence. To think that his standing in Luskan had brought this about. No, it had provided sadistic Jharkheld with an excuse for such treatment of fellow human beings, even guilty ones. Deudermont remained unconvinced that either Wulfgar or Morik had been involved. The realization that this was all done in his honor disgusted Deudermont profoundly. "Mister Micanty!" he ordered, quickly scribbling a note he handed to the man. "No!" Robillard insisted, understanding what Deudermont had in mind and knowing how greatly such an action would cost Sea Sprite, both with the authorities and the mob. "He deserves death!" "Who are you to judge?" Deudermont asked. "Not I!" the wizard protested. "Them," he explained, sweeping his arm out to the crowd. Deudermont scoffed at the absurd notion. "Captain, we'll be forced to leave Luskan, and we'll not be welcomed back soon," Robillard pointed out. "They will forget as soon as the next prisoners are paraded out for their enjoyment, likely on the morrow's dawn." He gave a wry, humorless smile. "Besides, you don't like Luskan anyway." Robillard groaned, sighed, and threw up his hands in defeat as Deudermont, too civilized a man, gave the note to Micanty and bade him to rush it to the magistrate. ***** "Light the box!" Jharkheld called from the stage after the guards had brought Wulfgar around so that the barbarian could witness Morik's horror. Wulfgar could not distance himself from the sight of setting the rat cage on fire. The frightened creature scurried about, and then began to burrow. The scene of such pain inflicted on a friend entered into Wulfgar's private domain, clawed through his wall of denial, even as the rat bit through Morik's skin. The barbarian loosed a growl so threatening, so preternaturally feral, that it turned the eyes of those near him from the spectacle of Morik's horror. Huge muscles bunched and flexed, and Wulfgar snapped his torso out to the side, launching the man holding him there away. The barbarian lashed out with one leg, swinging the iron ball and chain so that it wrapped the legs of the other man holding him. A sharp tug sent the guard to the ground. Wulfgar pulled and pulled as others slammed against him, as clubs battered him, as Jharkheld, angered by the distraction, yelled for Morik's gag to be removed. Somehow, incredibly, powerful Wulfgar pulled his arms free and lurched for the rack. Guard after guard slammed into him. He threw them aside as if they were children, but so many rushed the barbarian that he couldn't beat a path to Morik, who was screaming in agony now. "Get it off me!" cried Morik. Suddenly Wulfgar was facedown. Jharkheld got close enough to snap his whip across the man's back with a loud crack! "Admit your guilt!" the frenzied magistrate demanded as he beat Wulfgar viciously. Wulfgar growled and struggled. Another guard tumbled away, and another got his nose splattered all over his face by a heavy slug. "Get it off me!" Morik cried again. The crowd loved it. Jharkheld felt certain he'd reached a new level of showmanship. "Stop!" came a cry from the audience that managed to penetrate the general howls and hoots. "Enough!" The excitement died away fast as the crowd turned and recognized the speaker as Captain Deudermont of Sea Sprite. Deudermont looked haggard and leaned heavily on a cane. Magistrate Jharkheld's trepidation only heightened as Waillan Micanty pushed past the guards to climb onto the stage. He rushed to Jharkheld's side and presented him with Deudermont's note. The magistrate pulled it open and read it. Surprised, stunned even, he grew angrier by the word. Jharkheld looked up at Deudermont, causally motioned for one of the guards to gag the screaming Morik again, and for the others to pull the battered Wulfgar up to his feet. Unconcerned for himself and with no comprehension of what was happening beyond the torture of Morik, Wulfgar bolted from their grasp. He staggered and tripped over the swinging balls and chains but managed to dive close enough to reach out and slap the burning box and rat from Morik's belly. He was beaten again and hauled before Jharkheld. "It will only get worse for Morik now," the sadistic magistrate promised quietly, and he turned to Deudermont, a look of outrage clear on his face. "Captain Deudermont!" he called. "As the victim and a recognized nobleman, you have the authority to pen such a note, but are you sure? At this late hour?" Deudermont came forward, ignoring the grumbles and protests, even threats, and stood tall in the midst of the bloodthirsty crowd. "The evidence against Creeps Sharky and the tattooed pirate was solid," he explained, "but plausible, too, is Morik's tale of being set up with Wulfgar to take the blame, while the other two took only the reward." "But," Jharkheld argued, pointing his finger into the air, "plausible, too, is the tale that Creeps Sharky told, one of conspiracy that makes them all guilty." The crowd, confused but suspecting that their fun might soon be at an end, seemed to like Magistrate Jharkheld's explanation better. "And plausible, too, is the tale of Josi Puddles, one that further implicates both Morik the Rogue and Wulfgar," Jharkheld went on. "Might I remind you, Captain, that the barbarian hasn't even denied the claims of Creeps Sharky!" Deudermont looked then to Wulfgar, who continued his infuriating, expressionless stance. "Captain Deudermont, do you declare the innocence of this man?" Jharkheld asked, pointing to Wulfgar and speaking slowly and loudly enough for all to hear. "That is not within my rights," Deudermont replied over the shouts of protest from the bloodthirsty peasants. "I cannot determine guilt or innocence but can only offer that which you have before you." Magistrate Jharkheld stared at the hastily penned note again, then held it up for the crowd to see. "A letter of pardon for Wulfgar," he explained. The crowd hushed as one for just an instant, then began jostling and shouting curses. Both Deudermont and Jharkheld feared that a riot would ensue. "This is folly," Jharkheld snarled. "I am a visitor in excellent standing, by your own words, Magistrate Jharkheld," Deudermont replied calmly. "By that standing I ask the city to pardon Wulfgar, and by that standing I expect you to honor that request or face the questioning of your superiors." There it was, stated flatly, plainly, and without any wriggle room at all. Jharkheld was bound, Deudermont and the magistrate knew, for the captain was, indeed, well within his rights to offer such a pardon. Such letters were not uncommon, usually given at great expense to the family of the pardoned man, but never before in such a dramatic fashion as this. Not at the Prisoner's Carnival, at the very moment of Jharkheld's greatest show! "Death to Wulfgar!" someone in the crowd yelled, and others joined in, while Jharkheld and Deudermont looked to Wulfgar in that critical time. Their expressions meant nothing to the man, who still thought that death would be a relief, perhaps the greatest escape possible from his haunting memories. When Wulfgar looked to Morik, the man stretched near to breaking, his stomach all bloody and the guards bringing forth another rat, he realized it wasn't an option, not if the rogue's loyalty to him meant anything at all. "I had nothing to do with the attack," Wulfgar flatly declared. "Believe me if you will, kill me if you don't. It matters not to me." "There you have it, Magistrate Jharkheld," Deudermont said. "Release him, if you please. Honor my pardon as a visitor in excellent standing to Luskan." Jharkheld held Deudermont's stare for a long time. The old man was obviously disapproving, but he nodded to the guards, and Wulfgar was immediately released from their grasp. Tentatively, and only after further prompting from Jharkheld, one of the men brought a key down to Wulfgar's ankles, releasing the ball and chain shackles. "Get him out of here," an angry Jharkheld instructed, but the big man resisted the guards' attempts to pull him from the stage. "Morik is innocent," Wulfgar declared. "What?" Jharkheld exclaimed. "Drag him away!" Wulfgar, stronger than the guards could ever imagine, held his ground. "I proclaim the innocence of Morik the Rogue!" he cried. "He did nothing, and if you continue here, you do so only for your own evil pleasures and not in the name of justice!" "How much you two sound alike," an obviously disgusted Robillard whispered to Deudermont, coming up behind the captain. "Magistrate Jharkheld!" the captain called above the cries of the crowd. Jharkheld eyed him directly, knowing what was to come. The captain merely nodded. Scowling, the magistrate snapped up his parchments, waved angrily to his guards, and stormed off the stage. The frenzied crowd started pressing forward, but the city guard held them back. Smiling widely, sticking his tongue out at those peasants who tried to spit at him, Morik was half dragged, half carried from the stage behind Wulfgar. ***** Morik spent most of the walk through the magistrate offices talking soothingly to Wulfgar. The rogue could tell from the big man's expression that Wulfgar was locked into those awful memories again. Morik feared that he would tear down the walls and kill half the magistrate's assistants. The rogue's stomach was still bloody, and his arms and legs ached more profoundly than anything he had ever felt. He had no desire to go back to Prisoner's Carnival. Morik thought they would be brought before Jharkheld. That prospect, given Wulfgar's volatile mood, scared him more than a little. To his relief, the escorting guards avoided Jharkheld's office and turned into a small, nondescript room. A nervous little man sat behind a tremendous desk littered with mounds of papers. One of the guards presented Deudermont's note to the man. He took a quick look at it and snorted, for he had already heard of the disappointing show at Prisoner's Carnival. The little man quickly scribbled his initials across the note, confirming that it had been reviewed and accepted. "You are not innocent," he said, handing the note to Wulfgar, "and thus are not declared innocent." "We were told that we would be free to go," Morik argued. "Indeed," said the bureaucrat. "Not really free to go, but rather compelled to go. You were spared because Captain Deudermont apparently had not the heart for your execution, but understand that in the eyes of Luskan you are guilty of the crime charged. Thus, you are banished for life. Straightaway to the gate with you, and if you are ever caught in our city again, you'll face Prisoner's Carnival one last time. Even Captain Deudermont will not be able to intervene on your behalf. Do you understand?" "Not a difficult task," Morik replied. The wormy bureaucrat glared at him, to which Morik only shrugged. "Get them out of here," the man commanded. One guard grabbed Morik by the arm, the other reached for Wulfgar, but a shrug and a look from the barbarian had him thinking better of it. Still, Wulfgar went along without argument, and soon the pair were out in the sunshine, unshackled and feeling free for the first time in many days. To their surprise, though, the guards did not leave them there, escorting them all the way to the city's eastern gate. "Get out, and don't come back," one of them said as the gates slammed closed behind them. "Why would I want to return to your wretched city?" Morik cried, making several lewd and insulting gestures at those soldiers staring down from the wall. One lifted a crossbow and leveled it Morik's way. "Looky," he said. "The little rat's already trying to sneak back in." Morik knew that it was time to leave, and in a hurry. He turned and started to do just that, then looked back to see the soldier, a wary look upon the man's grizzled face, quickly lower the bow. When Morik looked back, he understood, for Captain Deudermont and his wizard sidekick were fast approaching. For a moment, it occurred to Morik that Deudermont might have saved them from Jharkheld only because he desired to exact a punishment of his own. That fear was short-lived, for the man strode right up to Wulfgar, staring hard but making no threatening moves. Wulfgar met his stare, neither blinking nor flinching. "Did you speak truly?" Deudermont asked. Wulfgar snorted, and it was obvious it was all the response the captain would get. "What has happened to Wulfgar, son of Beornegar?" Deudermont said quietly. Wulfgar turned to go, but the captain rushed around to stand before him. "You owe me this, at least," he said. "I owe you nothing," Wulfgar replied. Deudermont considered the response for just a moment, and Morik recognized that the seaman was trying to see things from Wulfgar's point of view. "Agreed," the captain said, and Robillard huffed in displeasure. "You claimed your innocence. In that case, you owe nothing to me, for I did nothing but what was right. Hear me out of past friendship." Wulfgar eyed him coldly but made no immediate move to walk away. "I don't know what has caused your fall, my friend, what has led you away from companions like Drizzt Do'Urden and Catti-brie, and your adoptive father, Bruenor, who took you in and taught you the ways of the world," the captain said. "I only pray that those three and the halfling are safe and well." Deudermont paused, but Wulfgar said nothing. "There is no lasting relief in a bottle, my friend," the captain said, "and no heroism in defending a tavern from its customary patrons. Why would you surrender the world you knew for this?" Having heard enough, Wulfgar started to walk away. When the captain stepped in front of him again, the big man just pushed on by without slowing, with Morik scrambling to keep up. "I offer you passage," Deudermont unexpectedly (even to Deudermont) called after him. "Captain!" Robillard protested, but Deudermont brushed him away and scrambled after Wulfgar and Morik. "Come with me to Sea Sprite," Deudermont said. "Together we shall hunt pirates and secure the Sword Coast for honest sailors. You will find your true self out there, I promise!" "I would hear only your definition of me," Wulfgar clarified, spinning back and hushing Morik, who seemed quite enthralled by the offer, "and that's one I don't care to hear." Wulfgar turned and started away. Jaw hanging open, Morik watched him go. By the time he turned back, Deudermont had likewise retreated into the city. Robillard, though, held his ground and his sour expression. "Might I?" Morik started to ask, walking toward the wizard. "Be gone and be fast about it, rogue," Robillard warned. "Else you will become a stain on the ground, awaiting the next rain to wash you away." Clever Morik, the ultimate survivor, who hated wizards, didn't have to be told twice.

nightflame 发表于 2005-6-7 16:34

顶！楼主翻译的真没话说。 能在wow之余坚持翻译更加难得呢 希望楼主坚持下去...我们读者永远支持你~~ ps:世界之脊这个系列的英文版在哪有的下？？

jarod 发表于 2005-6-7 17:34

我在很早的时候不知道什么地方载到的，已经忘了。求书去红龙，这里不行的哟 <img src='http://www.cndkc.org/bbs_en/html/emoticons/laugh.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='laugh.gif' />

Azurexth 发表于 2005-6-10 20:20

CCME.VICP.NET的FTP上有下，很不错的FTP！ 楼主的翻译没锝说，专业的。

whysta 发表于 2005-6-22 18:22

其实一直在龙堡以游客身份蹭各位大人的成果看，包括jarod大人的世界之脊 在此对大人的辛勤劳动表示由衷的赞美！ 另：本书以两条线相互交错展开，但貌似之间并没有什么必然的联系，老萨似乎有骗钱的嫌疑的说，期待大人第三幕的翻译，让悬念得以解开

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龙骑士城堡奇幻论坛's Archiver

世界之脊第十三章