cb.imajica1-第108节

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is　lips；　but　apparently　unable　to　find　the　words　to　express　himself。　He　looked　as　though　he　was　expecting　the　ground　to　open　up　beneath　him；　indeed；　was　silently　willing　it　to　do　so。　Rather　than　risk　disabusing　the　man　of　his　error　by　speaking；　Gentle　summoned　his　guide　Lazarevich　forward　with　the　hooked　finger　Nikaetomaas　had　used　minutes　before。　The　man　had　taken　refuge　behind　a　shield　of　soldiers　and　only　came　out　of　hiding　reluctantly；　glancing　at　his　captain　and　Racidio　in　the　hope　that　Gentle's　summons　would　be　countermanded。　It　was　not；　however。　Gentle　went　to　meet　him；　and　Racidio　uttered　the　first　words　he'd　been　able　to　find　since　setting　eyes　on　the　trespasser's　face。
　〃Forgive　me；〃　he　said。　〃I'm　mortified。〃
　Gentle　didn't　give　him　the　solace　of　a　response　but；　with　Lazarevich　at　his　side；　took　a　step　towards　the　knot　of　soldiers　at　the　top　of　the　next　flight　of　stairs。　They　parted　without　a　word　and　he　headed　between　their　ranks；　fighting　the　urge　to　pick　up　his　pace；　tempting　though　it　was。　And　he　regretted　too　not　being　able　to　say　his　farewells　to　Nika…etomaas。　But　neither　impatience　nor　sentiment　would　profit　him　now。　He'd　been　blessed；　and　maybe　in　the　fullness　of　time　he'd　understand　why。　In　the　short　term；　he　had　to　get　to　the　Autarch　and　hope　that　the　mystif　was　there　also。
　〃You　still　want　to　go　to　the　Pivot　Tower？'*　Lazarevich　said。
　〃Yes。〃
　〃When　I　get　you　there；　will　you　let　me　go？〃
　Again　he　said；　〃Yes。〃
　There　was　a　pause；　while　Lazarevich　oriented　himself　at　the　bottom　of　the　stairs。　Then　he　said；　〃Who　are　you？〃
　〃Wouldn't　you　like　to　know；〃　Gentle　replied；　his　answer　as　much　for　his　own　benefit　as　that　of　his　guide。
　There　had　been　six　of　them　at　the　start。　Now　there　were　two。　One　of　the　casualties　had　been　Thes　'reh'　ot；　shot　down　as　he　etched　with　a　cross　a　corner　they'd　turned　in　the　maze　of　courtyards。　It　had　been　his　inspiration　to　mark　their　route　and　so　facilitate　a　speedy　exit　when　they'd　finished　their　work。
　〃It's　only　the　Autarch's　will　that　holds　these　walls　up；〃　he'd　said　as　they'd　entered　the　palace。　〃Once　he's　down；　they'll　e　too。　We　need　to　beat　a　quick　retreat　if　we're　not　to　get　buried。〃
　That　Thes　'reh'　ot　had　volunteered　for　a　mission　his　laughter　had　dubbed　fatal　was　surprising　enough；　but　this　further　show　of　optimism　teetered　on　the　schizophrenic。　His　sudden　death　not　only　robbed　Pie　of　an　unlooked…for　ally；　but　also　of　the　chance　to　ask　him　why　he'd　joined　the　assault。　But　then　several　such　conundrums　had　accrued　around　this　endeavor；　not　least　the　sense　of　inevitability　that　had　attended　every　phase；　as　though　this　judgment　had　been　laid　down　long　before　Pie　and　Gentle　had　ever　appeared　in　Yzordderrex；　and　any　attempt　to　flout　it　would　defy　the　wisdom　of　greater　magistrates　than　Culus。　Such　inevitability　bred　fatalism；　of　course；　and　though　the　mystif　had　encouraged　Thes　'reh'　ot　to　plot　their　route　of　return；　it　entertained　few　delusions　about　making　that　journey。　It　willfully　kept　from　its　mind　the　losses　that　extinction　would　bring　until　its　remaining　rade；　Lu　'chur'　chem…a　purebred　Eurhetemec；　his　skin　blue…black；　his　eyes　double…iri…sed…raised　the　subject。　They　were　in　a　gallery　lined　with　frescoes　that　evoked　the　city　Pie　had　once　called　home：　the　painted　streets　of　London；　depicted　as　they'd　been　in　the　age　into　which　the　mystif　had　been　born；　replete　with　pigeon　hawkers；　mummers；　and　dandies。
　Seeing　the　way　Pie　gazed　at　these　sights；　Lu　'chur'　chem　said；　〃Never　again；　eh？〃
　〃Never　again　what？〃
　〃Out　in　a　street；　seeing　the　way　the　world　is　some　morning。〃
　〃No？〃
　〃No；〃　Lu　'chur'　chem　said。　〃We're　not　ing　back　this　way；　and　we　both　know　it。〃
　〃I　don't　mind；〃　Pie　replied。　〃I've　seen　a　lot　of　things。　I've　felt　even　more。　I've　got　no　regrets。〃
　〃You've　had　a　long　life？〃
　〃Yes；　I　have。〃
　〃And　your　Maestro？　He　had　a　long　life　too？〃
　〃Yes；　he　did；〃　Pie　said；　looking　again　at　the　scenes　on　the　walls。
　Though　the　renderings　were　relatively　unsophisticated；　they　touched　the　mystif　s　memories　awake；　evoking　the　bustle　and　din　of　the　crowded　thoroughfares　it　and　its　Maestro　had　walked　in　the　bright；　hopeful　days　before　the　Reconciliation。　Here　were　the　fashionable　streets　of　Mayfair；　lined　with　fine　shops　and　paraded　by　finer　women；　abroad　to　buy　lavender　water　and　mantua　silk　and　snow…white　muslin。　Here　was　the　throng　of　Oxford　Street；　where　half　a　hundred　vendors　clamored　for　custom：　purveyors　of　slippers；　wildfowl；　cherries；　and　gingerbread；　all　vying　for　a　niche　on　the　pavement　and　a　space　in　the　air　to　raise　their　cries。　Here　too　was　a　fair；　St。　Bartholomew's　most　likely；　where　there　was　more　sin　to　be　had　by　daylight　than　Babylon　ever　boasted　by　dark。
　〃Who　made　these？〃　Pie　wondered　aloud　as　they　proceeded。
　〃Diverse　hands；　by　the　look　of　'em；〃　Lu　'chur'　chem　replied。　〃You　can　see　where　one　style　stops　and　another　starts。〃
　〃But　somebody　directed　these　painters；　gave　them　the　details；　the　colors。　Unless　the　Autarch　just　stole　artists　from　the　Fifth　Dominion。〃
　〃Perfectly　possible；〃　Lu　'chur'　chem　said。　〃He　stole　architects。　He　put　tribes　in　chains　to　build　the　place。〃
　〃And　nobody　ever　challenged　him？〃
　〃People　tried　to　stir　up　revolutions　over　and　over　again；　but　he　suppressed　them。　Burnt　down　the　universities；　hanged　the　theologians　and　the　radicals。　He　had　a　stranglehold。　And　he　had　the　Pivot；　and　most　people　believe　that's　the　Unbeheld's　seal　of　approval。　If　Hapexamendios　didn't　want　the　Autarch　to　rule　Yzordderrex；　why　did　He　allow　the　Pivot　to　be　moved　here？　That's　what　they　said。　And　I　don't…〃
　Lu　'chur'　chem　stopped　in　his　tracks；　seeing　that　Pie　had　already　done　so。
　〃What　is　it？〃　he　asked。
　The　mystif　stared　up　at　the　picture　they　had　e　abreast　of；　its　breath　quickened　by　shock。
　〃Is　something　wrong？〃　Lu　'chur'　chem　said。
　It　took　a　few　moments　to　find　the　words。　〃I　don't　think　we　should　go　any　further；〃　it　said。
　〃Why　not？〃
　〃Not　together；　at　least。　The　judgment　fell　on　me；　and　I　should　finish　this　alone。〃
　〃What's　wrong　with　you？　I've　e　this　far。　I　want　to　have　the　satisfaction。〃
　〃What's　more　important？〃　the　mystif　asked　him；　turning　from　the　painting　it　had　been　so　fixated　by。　〃Your　satisfaction；　or　succeeding　in　what　we　came　here　to　do？〃
　〃You　know　my　answer　to　that。〃
　〃Then　trust　me。　I　have　to　go　on　alone。　Wait　for　me　here　if　you　like。〃
　Lu　'chur'　chem　made　a　phlegm…hawking　growl；　like　Culus'　growl；　only　coarser。　〃I　came　here　to　kill　the　Autarch；〃　he　said。
　〃No。　You　came　here　to　help　me；　and　you've　done　that。　It's　my　hands　that　have　to　dispatch　him；　not　yours。　That's　the　judgment。〃
　〃Suddenly　it's　the　judgment；　the　judgment！　I　shit　on　the　judgment！　I　want　to　see　the　Autarch　dead。　I　want　to　look　on　his　face。〃
　〃I'll　bring　you　his　eyes；〃　Pie　said。　〃That's　the　best　I　can　do。　I　mean　it；　Lu　'chur'　chem。　We　have　to　part　here。〃
　Lu　'chur'　chem　spat　on　the　ground　between　them。
　〃You　don't　trust　me；　do　you？〃　he　said。
　〃If　that's　what　you　want　to　believe。〃
　〃Mystif　shite！〃　he　exploded。　〃If　you　e　out　of　this　alive；　I'll　kill　you；　I　swear；　I'll　kill　you！〃
　There　was　no　further　argument。　He　simply　spat　again　and　turned　his　back；　stalking　off　down　the　gallery；　leaving　the　mystif　to　return　its　gaze　to　the　picture　which　had　quickened　Us　pulse　and　breath。
　Though　it　was　curious　to　see　a　rendering　of　Oxford　Street　and　St。　Bartholomew's　Fair　in　this　setting；　so　far　in　years　and　Dominions　from　the　scene　that　had　inspired　them；　Pie　might　have　suppressed　the　suspicion…growing　in　its　belly　while　Lu　'chur'　chem　talked　of　revolution…that　this　was　no　coincidence；　had　the　final　image　in　the　cycle　not　been　so　unlike　those　that　had　preceded　it。　The　rest　had　been　public　spectacles；　rendered　countless　times　in　satirical　prints　and　paintings。　This　last　was　not。　The　rest　had　been　well…known　sites　and　streets；　famous　across　the　world。　This　last　was　not。　It　was　an　unremarkable　thoroughfare　in　Cler…kenwell；　almost　a　backwater；　which　Pie　doubted　any　artist　of　the　Fifth　had　ever　turned　his　pen　or　brush　to　depicting。　But　here　it　was；　represented　in　meticulous　detail：　Gamut　Street；　to　the　brick；　to　the　leaf。　And　taking　pride　of　place　in　the　center　of　the　picture；　number　28；　the　Maestro　Sartori's　house。
　It　had　been　lovingly　re…created。　Birds　courted　on　its　roof；　on　its　step；　dogs　fought。　And　in　between　the　fighters　and　wooers　stood　the　house　itself；　blessed　by　a　dappled　sunlight　denied　the　others　in　the　row。　The　front　door　was　closed；　but　the　upper　windows　were　flung　wide；　and　the　artist　had　painted　somebody　watching　from　one　of　them；　his　face　too　deeply　shadowed　to　be　recognized。　The　object　of　his　scrutiny　was　not　in　doubt；　however：　the　girl　in　the　window　across　the　street；　sitting　at　her　mirror　with　her　dog　on　her　lap；　her　fingers　teasing　from　its　bow　the　ribbon　that　would　presently　unlace　her　bodice。　In　the　street　between　this　beauty　and　her　doting　voyeur　were　a　dozen　details　that　could　only　have　e　from　firsthand　experience。　On　the　pavement　beneath　the　girl's　window　a　small　procession　of　charity　children　passed；　wards　of　the　parish；　dressed　all　in　white　and　carrying　their　wands。　They　marched　raggedly　behind　their　beadle；　a　brute　of　a　man　called　Willis；　whom　Sar…tori　had　once　beaten　senseless　on　that　very　sp