cb.imajica1-第73节

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s　back　as　they　coupled。　Let　the　darkness　be　a　night　that　concealed　their　excesses；　and　the　pyre　blaze　like　their　mutual　consumption。　He　could　feel　the　trick　working　as　he　thought　this　through。　Why　should　death　be　so　unerotic？　If　they　blistered　or　rotted　together；　mightn't　their　dissolution　show　them　new　ways　to　love；　uncovering　them　layer　by　layer　and　joining　their　moistures　and　their　marrows　until　they　were　utterly　mingled？
　He'd　proposed　marriage　to　Pie　and　been　accepted。　The　creature　was　his　to　have　and　hold；　to　make　over　and　over；　in　the　image　of　his　fondness　and　most　forbidden　desires。　He　did　so　now。　He　saw　the　creature　naked　and　astride　him；　changing　even　as　he　touched　it；　throwing　off　skins　like　clothes。　Jude　was　one　of　those　skins；　and　Vanessa　another；　and　Martine　another　still。　They　were　all　riding　him　high：　the　beauty　of　the　world　impaled　on　his　prick。
　Lost　in　this　fantasy；　he　wasn't　even　aware　that　the　prayers　had　stopped　until　the　bier　was　halted　once　again。　There　were　whispers　all　around　him；　and　in　the　middle　of　the　whispers　soft　and　astonished　laughter。　The　shroud　was　snatched　away；　and　his　beloved　was　looking　down　at　him；　grinning　through　features　blurred　by　tears　and　Gentle's　influence。
　〃He's　alive！　Jesu；　he's　alive！〃　There　were　doubting　voices　raised；　but　the　mystif　laughed　them　down。
　〃I　feel　him　in　me！〃　it　said。　〃I　swear　it！　He's　still　with　us。　Put　him　down！　Put　him　down！〃
　The　pallbearers　did　as　they　were　instructed；　and　Gentle　had　his　first　glimpse　of　the　strangers　who'd　almost　bade　him　farewell。　Not　a　happy　bunch；　even　now。　They　stared　down　at　the　body；　still　disbelieving。　But　the　danger　was　over；　at　least　for　the　time　being。　The　mystif　leaned　over　Gentle　and　kissed　his　lips。　Its　face　was　fixed　once　more；　its　features　exquisite　in　their　joy。
　〃I　love　you；〃　it　murmured　to　Gentle。　〃I'll　love　you　until　the　death　of　love。〃
　
　Alive　he　was；　but　not　healed。　He　was　moved　to　a　small　room　of　gray　brick　and　laid　on　a　bed　only　marginally　more　fortable　than　the　boards　they'd　laid　him　on　as　a　corpse。　There　was　a　window；　but　being　unable　to　move　he　had　to　rely　upon　Pie　'oh'　pah　to　lift　him　up　and　show　him　the　view　through　it；　which　was　scarcely　more　interesting　than　the　walls；　being　simply　an　expanse　of　sea…solid　once　again…　under　a　cloudy　sky。
　〃The　sea　only　changes　when　the　suns　e　out；〃　Pie　explained。　〃Which　isn't　very　often。　We　were　unlucky。　But　everyone　is　amazed　that　you　survived。　Nobody　who　fell　into　the　Cradle　ever　came　out　alive　before。〃
　That　he　was　something　of　a　curiosity　was　evidenced　by　the　number　of　visitors　he　had；　both　guards　and　prisoners。　The　regime　seemed　to　be　fairly　relaxed；　from　what　little　he　could　judge。　There　were　bars　on　the　windows；　and　the　door　was　unbolted　and　bolted　up　again　when　anybody　came　or　went；　but　the　officers；　particularly　the　Oethac　who　ran　the　asylum；　named　Vigor　N'ashap；　and　his　number　two…a　military　peacock　named　Aping；　whose　buttons　and　boots　shone　a　good　deal　more　brightly　than　his　eyes；　and　whose　features　drooped　on　his　head　as　though　sodden…were　polite　enough。
　〃They　get　no　news　out　here；〃　Pie　explained。　〃They　just　get　sent　prisoners　to　look　after。　N'ashap　knows　there　was　a　plot　against　the　Autarch；　but　I　don't　believe　he　knows　whether　it's　been　successful　or　not。　They've　quizzed　me　for　hours；　but　they　haven't　really　asked　about　us。　I　just　told　them　we　were　friends　of　Scopique's；　and　we'd　heard　he'd　lost　his　sanity；　so　we　came　to　visit　him。　All　innocence；　in　other　words。　And　they　seemed　to　swallow　it。　But　they　get　supplies　of　food；　magazines；　and　newspapers　every　eight　or　nine　days…always　out　of　date；　Aping　says…so　our　luck　may　not　hold　out　too　long。　Meanwhile　I'm　doing　what　I　can　to　keep　them　both　happy。　They　get　very　lonely。〃
　The　significance　of　this　last　remark　wasn't　lost　on　Gentle；　but　all　he　could　do　was　listen　and　hope　his　healing　wouldn't　take　too　long。　There　was　some　easing　in　his　muscles；　allowing　him　to　open　and　close　his　eyes；　swallow；　and　even　move　his　hands　a　little；　but　his　torso　was　still　pletely　rigid。
　His　other　regular　visitor；　and　by　far　the　most　entertaining　of　those　who　came　to　gawk；　was　Scopique；　who　had　an　opinion　on　everything；　including　the　patient's　rigidity。　He　was　a　tiny　man；　with　the　perpetual　squint　of　a　watchmaker　and　a　nose　so　upturned　and　so　tiny　his　nostrils　were　virtually　two　holes　in　the　middle　of　his　face；　which　was　already　gouged　with　laugh　lines　deep　enough　to　plant　in。　Every　day　he　would　e　and　sit　on　the　edge　of　Gentle's　bed；　his　gray　asylum　clothes　as　crumpled　as　his　features；　his　glossy　black　wig　never　in　the　same　place　on　his　pate　from　hour　to　hour。　Sitting；　sipping　coffee；　he'd　pontificate：　on　politics；　on　the　various　psychoses　of　his　fellow　inmates；　on　the　subjugation　of　L'Himby　by　merce；　on　the　deaths　of　his　friends；　mostly　by　what　he　called　despair's　slow　sword；　and；　of　course；　on　Gentle's　condition。　He　had　seen　people　made　rigid　in　such　a　fashion　before；　he　claimed。　The　reason　was　not　physiological　but　psychological；　a　theory　which　seemed　to　carry　weight　with　Pie。　Once；　when　Scopique　had　left　after　a　session　of　theorizing；　leaving　Pie　and　Gentle　alone；　the　mystif　poured　out　its　guilt。　None　of　this　would　have　e　about；　it　said；　if　it　had　been　sensitive　to　Gentle's　situation　from　the　beginning。　Instead；　it　had　been　crude　and　unkind。　The　incident　on　the　platform　at　Mai…ke　was　a　case　in　point。　Would　Gentle　ever　forgive　it？　Ever　believe　that　its　actions　were　the　product　of　ineptitude；　not　cruelty？　Over　the　years　it　had　wondered　what　would　happen　if　they　ever　took　the　journey　they　were　taking；　and　had　tried　to　rehearse　its　responses；　but　it　had　been　alone　in　the　Fifth　Dominion；　unable　to　confess　its　fears　or　share　its　hopes；　and　the　circumstances　of　their　meeting　and　departure　had　been　so　haphazard　that　those　few　rules　it　had　set　itself　had　been　thrown　to　the　wind。
　〃Forgive　me；〃　it　said　over　and　over。　〃I　love　you　and　I've　hurt　you；　but　please；　forgive　me。〃
　Gentle　expressed　what　little　he　could　with　his　eyes；　wishing　his　fingers　had　the　strength　to　hold　a　pen；　so　that　he　could　simply　write　I　do；　but　the　small　advances　he'd　made　since　his　resurrection　seemed　to　be　the　limit　of　his　healing；　and　though　he　was　fed　and　bathed　by　Pie；　and　his　muscles　massaged；　there　was　no　sign　of　further　improvement。　Despite　the　mystif's　constant　words　of　encouragement；　there　was　no　doubt　that　death　still　had　its　finger　in　him。　In　them　both；　in　fact；　for　Pie's　devotion　seemed　to　be　taking　its　own　toll；　and　more　than　once　Gentle　wondered　if　the　mystif's　dwindling　was　simply　fatigue；　or　whether　they　were　symbi…otically　linked　after　their　time　together。　If　so；　his　demise　would　surely　take　them　both　to　oblivion。
　He　was　alone　in　his　cell　the　day　the　suns　came　out　again；　but　Pie　had　left　him　sitting　up；　with　a　view　through　the　bars；　and　he　was　able　to　watch　the　slow　unfurling　of　the　clouds　and　the　appearance　of　the　subtlest　beams；　falling　on　the　solid　sea。　This　was　the　first　time　since　their　arrival　that　the　suns　had　broken　over　the　Chzercemit；　and　he　heard　a　chorus　of　wele　from　other　cells；　then　the　sound　of　running　feet　as　guards　went　to　the　parapet　to　watch　the　transformation。　He　could　see　the　surface　of　the　Cradle　from　where　he　was　sitting；　and　felt　a　kind　of　exhilaration　at　the　imminent　spectacle；　but　as　the　beams　brightened　he　felt　a　tremor　climbing　through　his　body　from　his　toes；　gathering　force　as　it　went　until　by　the　time　it　reached　his　head　it　had　force　enough　to　throw　his　senses　from　his　skull。　At　first　he　thought　he'd　stood　up　and　run　to　the　window…he　was　peering　out　through　the　bars　at　the　sea　below…but　a　noise　at　the　door　drew　his　gaze　around　to　meet　the　sight　of　Sco…pique；　with　Aping　at　his　side；　crossing　the　cell　to　the　sallow；　bearded　derelict　sitting　with　a　glazed　expression　against　the　far　wall。　He　was　that　man。
　〃You　have　to　e　and　see；　Zacharias！〃　Scopique　was　enthusing；　putting　his　arm　beneath　the　derelict　and　hoisting　him　up。
　Aping　lent　a　hand；　and　together　they　began　to　carry　Gentle　to　the　window；　from　which　his　mind　was　already　departing。　He　left　them　to　their　kindness；　the　exhilaration　he'd　felt　like　an　engine　in　him。　Out　and　along　the　dreary　corridor　he　went；　passing　cells　in　which　prisoners　were　clamoring　to　be　released　to　see　the　suns。　He　had　no　sense　of　the　building's　geography；　and　for　a　few　moments　his　speeding　soul　lost　its　way　in　the　maze　of　gray　brick；　until　he　encountered　two　guards　hurrying　up　a　flight　of　stone　stairs　and　went　with　them；　an　invisible　mind；　into　a　brighter　suite　of　rooms。　There　were　more　guards　here；　forsaking　games　of　cards　to　head　out　into　the　open　air。
　〃Where's　Captain　N'ashap？〃　one　of　them　said。
　〃I'll　go　and　tell　him；〃　another　said；　and　broke　from　his　rades　towards　a　closed　door；　only　to　be　called　back　by　another；　who　told　him；　〃He's　in　conference…with　the　mys…tif；〃　the　reply　winning　a　ribald　laugh　from　his　fellows。
　Turning　his　spirit's　back　on　the　open　air；　Gentle　flew　towards　the　door；　passing　through　it　without　harm　or　hesitation。　The　room　beyond　was　not；　as　he'd　expected；　N'ashap's　office　but　an　antechamber；　occupied　by　two　empty　chairs　and　a　bare　table。　On　the　wall　behind　the　table　hung　a　painting　of　a　small　child；　so　wretchedly　rendered　the　subject's　sex　was