[龟速翻译]弄臣使命
第一章 切德·秋星
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时间是流转的车轮，或是留在车轮之后的轨迹？
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——卡尔斯塔的谜题' u! {5 C) j% Y3 [7 h
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他在一个潮湿的晚春到来，将广阔的世界重新带回到我的门前。那年，我三十五岁。当我还是二十岁的时候，我曾以为我现在这个年纪的人已经是摇摇欲坠，近乎老朽。可现在，我既不再年轻，也不觉得年老，而是介乎于这两者之间。我再也无法拿年少轻狂来当作借口，也还无法宣称自己已经年老糊涂。很多年来，我已经不知该如何看待自己。有时，我的生命仿佛就这样慢慢地消失在我的身后，如同在雨中缓缓褪去的足迹。直到现在，我似乎已经变成了一个一生都默默无闻的人，在一间海与森林之间的小屋里过着平凡无奇的生活。/ N5 V: ?$ t$ c7 [2 ~4 x. O9 z. X+ q
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那个清晨，我躺在床上，听着那些细微的声响，有时这么做能令我的心境变得平和。在噼啪作响的炉火前，狼儿平静地酣睡着。我用我们共有的原智魔法向他探寻，轻轻地扫过他睡梦中的思绪。在他的梦里，他正与狼群一道，奔跑着穿越白雪覆盖下起伏的山丘。对夜眼来说，这是个宁静、冰冷，而又轻灵的梦。我轻柔地抽回我的思绪，让他独享他的安宁。# z8 q! i3 u" u) Z8 k ^
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在屋子的小窗之外，归来的鸟儿竞相歌唱着。每当一缕清风掠过树丛，就会抖落下一阵昨夜的夜雨留下的水滴，纷纷扬扬地落在草坪上。这些树一共是四棵，都是银桦。当我将它们种下时，它们还不过是几根细小的枝条。而如今，它们稀疏的枝叶已能在我卧室的窗外撒下一片淡淡的树荫。我闭上眼睛，几乎能够感到光影在我眼睑上的跳动。我还不想起床，现在还不。
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前一个晚上，我过得很糟，而且我还不得不独自忍受。大约在三个星期前，我的小子，也就是幸运，跟着椋音一同出门游历，直到现在还没有回来。我没法责怪他。我隐世式的生活方式已经渐渐开始让年轻的他觉得难以忍受，而椋音所带来的那些公鹿堡的故事却总是栩栩如生，鲜明动人得令他难以忽略。因此，我不得不同意在节日期间让椋音带他去趟公鹿堡，或许他能有机会亲眼见识一下那里的春季庆典，吃个撒了卡芮丝籽的蛋糕，再看场木偶戏，也许还能跟哪个女孩子亲热一下。幸运的年纪已经够大了，已经不是那个只要吃饱睡好就能令他心满意足的小男孩。我告诉自己，现在是考虑让他离开我的时候了。或许我该帮他找个好木匠或者细木工当师傅，他在方面似乎还挺有天分。另外，想要年轻人学门手艺，自然还是早些开始比较好。可我还没有做好让他离开的准备。而接下来的这个月，他并不在我的身边，或许我可以试着回忆一下该如何照顾自己。我和夜眼可以相互为伴，对我们来说，这难道还不够吗？; k C z% S5 z* k3 Y! g
* P5 k& ?6 ^8 t; e可他们才刚走多久，我就开始觉得这间小房子变得太安静了。那小子离开时兴奋的模样令我想起了以前的我，我也曾像他一样对春季庆典充满过期待。我以为我已经忘了，可是木偶戏和卡芮丝籽蛋糕以及与女孩亲热的感觉，这一切的记忆却又是如此鲜明。或许，正是这些记忆产生出了那些清晰的梦境。我曾两次从梦中惊醒，满身都是淋漓的大汗，肌肉紧绷，颤抖个不停。曾经有几年，这病症没再来骚扰过我，可最近这四年，我的这个老毛病又开始发作了。近来，发病总是发得很忽然，完全看不出其中的规律。仿佛是精技魔法忽然想起了我的存在，想要搅乱我平静的隐居生活。我原本的生活就像是珠链上的珠粒般圆润，日与日之间并没什么不同，可现在，却被它搅得一团糟。有时，精技的饥渴就像是溃烂的腐肉，侵蚀着健康的躯体。而另外一些时候，这却不过会令我有几个充满了历历在目的回忆的梦境。如果那小子还在家里， 我可能还能挣脱对我纠缠不休的精技。可他并不在家，因此，我屈服于那些梦境挑起的瘾头。我走向海边的峭壁，在我的小子为我做的长凳上坐下，将我的精技伸向波涛之外。狼儿就待在我的身旁，就像往常一样，他一副想要责难我的表情。我可不想听他的抱怨。“这并不比你招惹豪猪的爱好差。”我对他说。( m% x& T) V( m5 m' t
/ E, _" J/ F7 }& j- ~" H唯一的不同只在于豪猪的刺能被拔出来。而刺到你那东西只会越刺越深，然后开始化脓。夜眼扫了我一眼，毫不客气地回答道。
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0 h# g2 b; R- m# L/ Y你为什么不去猎只兔子。& J1 @2 D7 m1 _! G- z( L K
# b$ |# h) t3 m1 g N男孩还有他的弓箭已经被你送走了。* ]1 S$ K2 ?3 ?. V
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“你以前一个人就能抓到它了，你知道的。你以前这么做过。”
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9 ]: b7 @0 r) W- f3 I( m以前你也跟我一起去打猎的。为什么不停止这毫无意义的探寻，跟我一起去打猎？你什么时候才会承认，这世界上没有人能够听得到你？
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可我必须……试试。
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4 R6 n6 ^1 P8 b3 c, g+ g7 \为什么？难道我陪着你已经不够了吗？
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$ D& ?. V/ e% R) r u2 b对我是够了。对我来说，有你就足够了。通过我们共有的原智，我向他开启我自己，让他感受精技对我的拉扯。是魔法想要这么做，不是我。- t, j" |" i# `1 d1 @ F
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把它那开，我不想看到这个。当我将那一部分的我从他的感官里关闭时，他可怜巴巴地问，它永远都不会放过我们吗？, h$ Y2 F* S4 b; ^6 ^6 R
: e/ @+ f! D8 U# R% ~: @: F对此，我无法回答。过了一会儿，狼儿躺了下来，他将他的脑袋枕在前爪上，闭上了眼睛。我知道他会留在我身边，因为他为我担心。之前的那个冬天，我曾两次沉迷于技传的快感之中，无休止地进行精神探索，直到耗尽了我的体能，甚至无法靠自己的力量走回小屋。那两次，都是夜眼为我找来了幸运。而这一次，除我们自己之外，没人能帮我们。# H6 c4 H6 H/ U$ {
! K, G" n7 r; b. `5 h" D, w, S我知道这么做很蠢，而且毫无意义。可我也知道我没法阻止我自己继续这么做。就好像是一个饥饿到了极点的人吞吃着青草，想要籍此来缓解一下腹中无比的空虚，所以我用精技向外探索，接触我所能企及的范围内一切的生命。我轻轻扫过他们的思绪，暂时缓解了与空虚感一同充溢在我体内的渴望。我能够感知到某个在大风天气时出航捕鱼的家庭。我能够感知到一个货船船长为他那艘载货超重的船而忧虑。而同一艘船上的大副正因为她女儿中意的男人而感到烦恼：那人是个懒惰的家伙，怎么看都没有什么优点。船上的男孩则在咒骂着自己糟糕的运气：现在赶往公鹿堡城已经太迟了。等他们真到了那里，春季庆典也已经结束，除了水沟里枯萎的花环外，怕是什么也留不下来了。他的运气总是这么糟。$ J: f, {; y/ p4 i- b% p' q
- F. q' ?9 p5 R$ H这些体验显然是我少有的一些乐趣。它再一次让我意识到，世界其实并不仅限我那间小屋的四面墙，甚至不仅仅只是我的花圃的大小。可这仍然不能算是真正的技传。这并不足够，这无法与技传时心灵间的交融，能令一个人的感知超越渺小的身体的局限，感受到无比巨大的世界的全部时那种完整感相提并论。
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狼儿坚硬的牙齿咬在我的手腕上，将我从精技的搜索中惊醒。好了。已经够了。如果你在这里倒下，你就只好在这又湿又冷的地方躺上一个晚上。我可不是那男孩，没法子把你拉起来。好了，现在走吧。# R U* f2 i, ~9 C9 \
. O9 e" ?6 Y5 D+ W$ E, T我站了起来，可眼前却忽然一黑。视线里的黑暗最终是过去了，可阴沉的心境却紧接而来，盘踞在我的心头。我跟着狼儿，从滴水的树丛下浓重的昏暗中走过，回到家中快要熄灭的炉火和桌上忽明忽暗的烛光旁。我给自己泡了壶又浓又苦的精灵树皮茶，我知道，这样会另我的心境变得更加低沉，可我也知道这能缓解我的头疼。为了摆脱精灵树皮的影响，我试着写一份解释石子棋和石子棋规则的卷轴。我之前就试过几次，想要完成这项课题，可是我每一次都是徒劳无功。只有在玩石子棋的时候才能学会石子棋的玩法，我这么跟自己说。所以，我这次还在文章中加上了一些插图，用来展现标准的石子棋玩法是怎么样的。当我决定放弃时，时间已近破晓。在我最近的几次尝试里，这次看起来是最蠢的一次。我上床去睡觉，对我来说，这已经算是比较早的了。
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当我醒来时，早晨已经过了一半。在院子的角落里，小鸡们唧唧喳喳地打闹着。公鸡一声长啼。我哀叹着，现在是该起床的时候了。我得去捡下蛋，再撒把谷子，好让那群鸡安静下来。花圃里的杂草长得很快，现在已经到不得不除草的时候了。我还得补种那排被蛞蝓吃掉的幼苗，并趁着紫菖蒲还开着花的时候再多采上一些；我最近试着用它来制墨水，可是颜色却不太对劲，不过我还想再试试。此外还有很多的事情，像是劈柴，再把它们整理成垛；熬粥，整理灶台。我还得爬到鸡舍顶上的桉树上，把那根开了裂的树枝砍掉，免得风大的时候被吹断，砸坏鸡舍。
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9 v+ Z, S3 K; v' o另外，我们应该到河边去看看，鱼儿们的洄游是不是开始了。鲜鱼的味道很不错。夜眼在我的计划里加上了他的意见。
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+ J- p# m; N, S, @去年你吃了条腐烂的鱼，差点没死掉。
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那我们就更该赶快出发，趁着鱼还活蹦乱跳的时候。你可以用男孩的鱼矛。* K$ F# j/ s6 x
6 _: a5 a5 v/ Q& G9 q( R' B然后我就得哆哆嗦嗦地弄得一身湿。
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就算这样也比饿肚子好。$ ~' z. S! V* u' J
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我翻过身，继续睡觉。就算我偷一个早上的懒，又有谁在乎？那群鸡吗？当夜眼又来叫我时，我觉得只不过才过了一小会儿。$ a% O) l# `9 e1 j/ O
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$ G6 K! Y8 C2 D* v我立刻警觉起来。从窗口射进来的阳光的角度判断，我又多睡了好几个小时。我起身，套上袍子，绑好腰带，把脚挤进夏鞋里。说白了，这鞋子只不过是块皮底，再用几条带子绑在脚上。我拨开落在脸上的头发，揉了揉惺忪的眼睛。“去看看是谁。”我向夜眼吩咐道。
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( Z# j, \& c8 ~要看你自己去。他已经快到我们门口了。
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3 o$ F0 k8 z' K; \* n# M我不知道有谁会来找我。椋音一年会来个三、四次，每一次都会为我带些好纸、美酒，在这住个几天，配我说说话，可她和幸运不会这么早就回来。除此之外，没什么人会来找我。巴勒或许会来找我，他住在附近的山谷里种田养猪，可他没有马。有一个补锅匠每年会来上两次。第一次是纯粹的意外，他的马在一场暴风雨里弄跛了脚，他从树丛里看到了我家里的灯光，把他吸引到了我的门前。从那以后，我不时会遇到类似的访客。那个补锅匠在通往我的小屋的小道旁的树上刻了一只蜷成一团的小猫，这个标记是表示这里的主人乐于招待来往的路人。我发现了那个标记，不过我没有动它，留它在那，偶尔能为我招来些过路的访客。
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! f# g9 } C7 p（第一章未完）2 l' o: ^7 r/ s) s2 B
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Is time the wheel that turns, or the track it leaves behind?" ^7 q! h# Z0 B& h; ^- x( d4 J+ k
-KELSTAR'S RIDDLE
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He came one late, wet spring, and brought the wide world back to my doorstep. I was thirty-five that year. When I was twenty, I would have considered a man of my current age to be teetering on the verge of dotage. These days, it seemed neither young nor old to me, but a suspension between the two. I no longer had the excuse of callow youth, and I could not yet claim the eccentricities of age. In many ways, I was no longer sure what I thought of myself. Sometimes it seemed that my life was slowly disappearing behind me, fading like footprints in the rain, until perhaps I had always been the quiet man living an unremarkable life in a cottage between the forest and the sea.
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I lay abed that morning, listening to the small sounds that sometimes brought me peace. The wolf breathed steadily before the softly crackling hearth fire. I quested toward him with our shared Wit magic, and gently brushed his sleeping thoughts. He dreamed of running over snow-smooth rolling hills with a pack. For Nighteyes, it was a dream of silence, cold, and swiftness. Softly I withdrew my touch and left him to his private peace.0 b5 s0 x$ C' j% W, \& j+ M' I4 |
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Outside my small window, the returning birds sang their challenges to one another. There was a light wind, and whenever it stirred the trees, they released a fresh shower of last night's rain to patter on the wet sward. The trees were silver birches, four of them. They had been little more than sticks when I had planted them. Now their airy foliage cast a pleasant light shade outside my bedroom window. I closed my eyes and could almost feel the flicker of the light on my eyelids. I would not get up, not just yet.
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I had had a bad evening the night before, and had had to face it alone. My boy, Hap, had gone off gallivanting with Starling almost three weeks ago, and still had not returned. I could not blame him. My quiet reclusive life was beginning to chafe his young shoulders. Starling's stories of life at Buckkeep, painted with all the skill of her minstrel ways, created pictures too vivid for him to ignore. So I had reluctantly let her take him to Buckkeep for a holiday, that he might see for himself a Springfest there, eat a carris-seed-topped cake, watch a puppet show, mayhap kiss a girl. Hap had grown past the point where regular meals and a warm bed were enough to content him. I had told myself it was time I thought of letting him go, of finding him an apprenticeship with a good carpenter or joiner. He showed a knack for such things, and the sooner a lad took to a trade, the better he learned it. But I was not ready to let him go just yet. For now I would enjoy a month of peace and solitude, and recall how to do things for myself. Nighteyes and I had each other for company. What more could we need?( T+ g( Q8 ?/ C, K
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Yet no sooner were they gone than the little house seemed too quiet. The boy's excitement at leaving had been too reminiscent of how I myself had once felt about Springfests and the like. Puppet shows and carris-seed cakes and girls to kiss all brought back vivid memories I thought I had long ago drowned. Perhaps it was those memories that birthed dreams too vivid to ignore. Twice I had awakened sweating and shaking with my muscles clenched. I had enjoyed years of respite from such unquiet, but in the past four years, my old fixation had returned. Of late, it came and went, with no pattern I could discern. It was almost as if the old Skill magic had suddenly recalled me and was reaching to drag me out of my peace and solitude. Days that had been as smooth and alike as beads on a string were now disrupted by its call. Sometimes the Skill-hunger ate at me as a canker eats sound flesh. Other times, it was no more than a few nights of yearning, vivid dreams. If the boy had been home, I probably could have shaken off the Skill's persistent plucking at me. But he was gone, and so yesterday evening I had given in to the unvanquished addiction such dreams stirred. I had walked down to the sea cliffs, sat on the bench my boy had made for me, and stretched out my magic over the waves. The wolf had sat beside me for a time, his look one of ancient rebuke. I tried to ignore him. "No worse than your penchant for bothering porcupines," I pointed out to him.
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Save that their quills can be pulled out. What stabs you only goes deeper and festers. His deep eyes glanced past mine as he shared his pointed thoughts.
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3 v" X. b6 J; \' F' S Why don't you go hunt a rabbit?2 L1 \+ X. g+ p! i
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You've sent the boy and his bow away.7 y6 H6 Q- X" X1 S+ ?9 ^. P
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"You could run it down yourself, you know. Time was when you did that."/ E! J, G1 `/ f& k6 A
$ ~1 M( B* q8 L0 _0 _ Time was when you went with me to hunt. Why don't we go and do that, instead of this fruitless seeking? When will you accept that there is no one out there who can hear you?8 R$ \) i1 s- W: K- k) j' ]6 _
I just have to ... try.8 f. e7 ` @& @( _
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Why? Is my companionship not enough for you?
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It is enough for me. You are always enough for me. I opened myself wider to the Wit-bond we shared and tried to let him feel how the Skill tugged at me. It is the magic that wants this, not me.6 L3 B: v7 v0 @; L7 |' N+ {( K
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Take it away. I do not want to see that. And when I had closed that part of myself to him, he asked piteously, Will it never leave us alone?
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) }( z$ \3 }2 C* | I had no answer to that. After a time, the wolf lay down, put his great head on his paws, and closed his eyes. I knew he would stay by me because he feared for me. Twice the winter before last, I had overindulged in Skilling, burning physical energy in that mental reaching until I had been unable even to totter back to the house on my own. Nighteyes had had to fetch Hap both times. This time we were alone.
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, z" E/ r* }# W$ O' b I knew it was foolish and useless. I also knew I could not stop myself. Like a starving man who eats grass to appease the terrible emptiness in his belly, so I reached out with the Skill, touching the lives that passed within my reach. I could brush their thoughts and temporarily appease the great craving that filled me with emptiness. I could know a little of the family out for a windy day's fishing. I could know the worries of a captain whose cargo was just a bit heavier than his ship would carry well. The mate on the same ship was worried about the man her daughter wished to marry; he was a lazy fellow for all of his pretty ways. The ship's boy was cursing his luck; they'd get to Buckkeep Town too late for Springfest. There'd be nothing left but withered garlands browning in the gutters by the time he got there. It was always his luck.0 T7 ]- y# z2 y3 G0 y6 ^
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There was a certain sparse distraction to these knowings. It restored to me the sense that the world was larger than the four walls of my house, larger even than the confines of my own garden. But it was not the same as true Skilling. It could not compare to that moment of completion when minds joined and one sensed the wholeness of the world as a great entity in which one's own body was no more than a mote of dust.
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- l& v" J2 p( T; e3 p6 x0 B The wolf's firm teeth on my wrist had stirred me from my reaching. Come on. That's enough. If you collapse down here, you'll spend a cold wet night. am not the boy, to drag you to your feet. Come on, now.
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I had risen, seeing blackness at the edges of my vision when I first stood. It had passed, but not the blackness of spirit that came in its wake. I had followed the wolf back through the gathering dark beneath the dripping trees, back to where my fire had burned low in the hearth and the candles guttered on the table, I made myself elfbark tea, black and bitter, knowing it would only make my spirit more desolate, but knowing also that it would appease my aching head. I had burned away the nervous energy of the elfbark by working on a scroll describing the stone game and how it was played. I had tried several times before to complete such a treatise and each time given it up as hopeless. One could only learn to play it by playing it, I told myself. This time I was adding to the text a set of illustrations, to show how a typical game might progress. When I set it aside just before dawn was breaking, it seemed only the stupidest of my latest attempts. I went to bed more early than late.! t( Q8 c7 B) p+ p/ U+ N, l/ x
' P3 C+ j* t# f! D I awoke to half the morning gone. In the far corner of the yard, the chickens were scratching and gossiping among themselves. The rooster crowed once. I groaned. I should get up. I should check for eggs and scatter a handful of grain to keep the poultry tamed. The garden was just sprouting. It needed weeding already, and I should reseed the row of fesk that the slugs had eaten. I needed to gather some more of the purple flag while it was still in bloom; my last attempt at an ink from it had gone awry, but I wanted to try again. There was wood to split and stack. Porridge to cook, a hearth to sweep. And I should climb the ash tree over the chicken house and cut off that one cracked limb before a storm brought it down on the chicken house itself.; k+ h# q( e4 t' G' Z( y
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And we should go down to the river and see if the early fish runs have begun yet. Fresh fish would be good. Nighteyes added his own concerns to my mental list.
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Last year you nearly died from eating rotten fish.
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( |0 k r6 h/ ?4 {1 ]: {5 ? All the more reason to go now, while they are fresh and jumping. You could use the boy's spear.
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And get soaked and chilled.
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" V* C( K+ @' ~5 t. K Better soaked and chilled than hungry.# W4 L* N* Y }9 C( N: I5 q9 m3 c3 b
6 w$ c) j7 R4 t. J E. z4 w* S I rolled over and went back to sleep. So I'd be lazy one morning. Who'd know or care? The chickens? It seemed but moments later that his thoughts nudged me.) @. k! q; }9 d9 _
X5 A; C5 K% a8 g, s$ ^0 j" b# q: { My brother, awake. A strange horse comes.2 U* R, H3 S$ P# C2 ^
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I was instantly alert. The slant of light in my window told me that hours had passed. I rose, dragged a robe over my head, belted it, and thrust my feet into my summer shoes. They were little more than leather soles with a few straps to keep them on my feet. I pushed my hair back from my face. I rubbed my sandy eyes. "Go see who it is," I bade Nighteyes.
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See for yourself. He's nearly to the door./ j4 y V$ q( u9 U: d1 H Z
" I' r: W( Q: n" j6 Y) U I was expecting no one. Starling came thrice or four times a year, to visit for a few days and bring me gossip and fine paper and good wine, but she and Hap would not be returning so soon. Other visitors to my door were rare. There was Baylor who had his cot and hogs in the next vale, but he did not own a horse. A tinker came by twice a year. He had found me first by accident in a thunderstorm when his horse had gone lame and my light through the trees had drawn him from the road. Since his visit, I'd had other visits from similar travelers. The tinker had carved a curled cat, the sign of a hospitable house, on a tree beside the trail that led to my cabin. I had found it, but left it intact, to beckon an occasional visitor to my door.
