Inferno

　　-未出版即空降亞馬遜網路書店排行榜TOP3！
　　-Barnes & Noble近五顆星滿分評價，好評度持續上升！
　　-今年備受矚目的長篇小說，蘭登博士重返歐洲解謎！

　　繼《達文西密碼》、《天使與魔鬼》、《失落的符號》之後，哈佛大學宗教符號學教授羅柏‧蘭登再度深陷於歷史上最誘人但也最神秘的文學藝術之作－文藝復興時期義大利詩人但丁《神曲》！蘭登博士將面對的不僅僅只有難以解開的符號謎題及密室，還必須面對人性最黑暗的考驗．．．

　　本書作者丹．布朗受訪時表示，自己求學期間就對但丁的《神曲》深感興趣，但一直到最近實境造訪義大利佛羅倫斯之後才感受到此作品對後世的影響及偉大，因此決定著手寫這部小說，並且將書名取為「Inferno」，其來源正是但丁《神曲》的地獄篇，除了故事主題和神曲有關，也暗示著這本小說不單僅有精彩的解謎過程，還有人性的殘酷試煉。（文/博客來編譯）

　　In his international blockbusters The Da Vinci Code, Angels & Demons, and The Lost Symbol, Dan Brown masterfully fused history, art, codes, and symbols. In this riveting new thriller, Brown returns to his element and has crafted his highest-stakes novel to date.

　　In the heart of Italy, Harvard professor of symbology Robert Langdon is drawn into a harrowing world centered on one of history’s most enduring and mysterious literary masterpieces . . . Dante’s Inferno.

　　Against this backdrop, Langdon battles a chilling adversary and grapples with an ingenious riddle that pulls him into a landscape of classic art, secret passageways, and futuristic science. Drawing from Dante’s dark epic poem, Langdon races to find answers and decide whom to trust . . . before the world is irrevocably altered.

作者簡介

丹．布朗（Dan Brown）

　　畢業於安默斯特學院 ( Amherst College )，在他全心投入寫作之時，一直擔任該學院的英文老師。1996年，丹．布朗出於對從事密碼破譯工作的秘密政府機關的興趣，寫作了自己的第一部小說《數位堡壘》（Digital Fortress）。而這部小說立刻成了國內首屈一指的網路小說。它以美國國家安全局（National Security Agency）背景，探究了公民隱私和國家安全之間的界限。

　　丹．布朗的父親是一名曾獲得總統榮譽獎的數學教授，母親是一名職業宗教音樂家，因此，他從小就生活在科學和宗教相衝突的荒唐哲學中。丹．布朗的妻子既是一名藝術歷史學家，也是一名油畫家，她不僅和丈夫一起合作研究，還一直陪伴著他完成頻繁的研究之旅。《達文西密碼》系列正是夫妻倆一起到巴黎，在羅浮宮所完成，後來更翻拍成暢銷電影，由湯姆漢克斯主演取得空前成功，之後的《天使與魔鬼》也陸續翻拍成電影票房亮眼。

　　「Inferno」為《達文西密碼》系列的第四部長篇小說，出版前夕即受到全球讀者的關注，預計5/14正式出版。

　　Dan Brown is the author of numerous #1 bestselling novels, including the recent record-breaking The Lost Symbol, which had the biggest one-week sale in Random House history for a single title.  His previous title, The Da Vinci Code, has sold more than 80 million copies worldwide, making it one of the bestselling novels of all time. In addition to numerous appearances on The Today Show, Mr. Brown was named one of the World’s 100 Most Influential People by Time Magazine. He has appeared in the pages of Newsweek, Forbes, People,GQ, The New Yorker, and others. His novels are published in over 50 languages around the world.

PROLOLUE 楔子

Along the banks of the river Arno, I scramble, breathless . . . turning left onto Via dei Castellani, making my way northward, huddling in the shadows of the Uffizi.

And still they pursue me.

Their footsteps grow louder now as they hunt with relentless deter- mination.

For years they have pursued me. Their persistence has kept me under- ground . . . forced me to live in purgatory . . . laboring beneath the earth like a chthonic monster.
I am the Shade.

Here aboveground, I raise my eyes to the north, but I am unable to find a direct path to salvation . . . for the Apennine Mountains are blot- ting out the first light of dawn.

I pass behind the palazzo with its crenellated tower and one-handed clock . . . snaking through the early-morning vendors in Piazza San Firenze with their hoarse voices smelling of lampredotto and roasted olives. Crossing before the Bargello, I cut west toward the spire of the Badia and come up hard against the iron gate at the base of the stairs.

Here all hesitation must be left behind.

I turn the handle and step into the passage from which I know there will be no return. I urge my leaden legs up the narrow staircase . . . spi- raling skyward on soft marble treads, pitted and worn.

The voices echo from below. Beseeching. They are behind me, unyielding, closing in.

They do not understand what is coming . . . nor what I have done for them!

Ungrateful land!

As I climb, the visions come hard . . . the lustful bodies writhing in fiery rain, the gluttonous souls floating in excrement, the treacherous villains frozen in Satan’s icy grasp.

I climb the final stairs and arrive at the top, staggering near dead into the damp morning air. I rush to the head-high wall, peering through the slits. Far below is the blessed city that I have made my sanctuary from those who exiled me.
The voices call out, arriving close behind me. “What you’ve done is madness! ”
Madness breeds madness.

“For the love of God,” they shout, “tell us where you’ve hidden it! ”

For precisely the love of God, I will not.

I stand now, cornered, my back to the cold stone. They stare deep into my clear green eyes, and their expressions darken, no longer cajoling, but threatening. “You know we have our methods. We can force you to tell us where it is.”

For that reason, I have climbed halfway to heaven.

Without warning, I turn and reach up, curling my fingers onto the high ledge, pulling myself up, scrambling onto my knees, then stand- ing . . . unsteady at the precipice. Guide me, dear Virgil, across the void.

They rush forward in disbelief, wanting to grab at my feet, but fearing they will upset my balance and knock me off. They beg now, in quiet desperation, but I have turned my back. I know what I must do.

Beneath me, dizzyingly far beneath me, the red tile roofs spread out like a sea of fire on the countryside, illuminating the fair land upon which giants once roamed . . . Giotto, Donatello, Brunelleschi, Michelangelo, Botticelli.
I inch my toes to the edge.

“Come down! ” they shout. “It’s not too late! ”

O, willful ignorant! Do you not see the future? Do you not grasp the splendor of my creation? The necessity?

I will gladly make this ultimate sacrifice . . . and with it I will extin- guish your final hope of finding what you seek.

You will never locate it in time.

Hundreds of feet below, the cobblestone piazza beckons like a tran- quil oasis. How I long for more time . . . but time is the one commodity even my vast fortunes cannot afford.
In these final seconds, I gaze down at the piazza, and I behold a sight that startles me.

I see your face.

You are gazing up at me from the shadows. Your eyes are mournful,and yet in them I sense a veneration for what I have accomplished. You understand I have no choice. For the love of Mankind, I must protect my masterpiece.

It grows even now . . . waiting . . . simmering beneath the bloodred waters of the lagoon that reflects no stars.

And so, I lift my eyes from yours and I contemplate the horizon. High above this burdened world, I make my final supplication.

Dearest God, I pray the world remembers my name not as a monstrous sinner, but as the glorious savior you know I truly am. I pray Mankind will understand the gift I leave behind.

My gift is the future. My gift is salvation. My gift is Inferno.

With that, I whisper my amen . . . and take my final step, into the abyss.