cb.imajica1-第31章

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hich　she'd　taken　to　be　that　of　one　person；　was　of　two；　erotically　entangled。　The　woman　had　her　back　to　the　books；　her　arms　grasping　the　shelf　above　her　head。　Her　mate；　his　trousers　around　his　ankles；　was　pressed　against　her；　making　short　gasps　to　acpany　the　jabbing　of　his　hips。　Both　had　their　eyes　closed；　the　sight　of　each　other　was　no　great　aphrodisiac。　Was　this　coupling　what　she'd　e　here　to　see？　God　knows；　there　was　nothing　in　their　labors　to　either　arouse　or　educate　her。　Surely　the　blue　eye　hadn't　driven　her　across　the　city　gathering　tales　of　womanhood　just　to　witness　this　joyless　intercourse。　There　had　to　be　something　here　she　wasn't　prehending。　Something　hidden　in　their　exchange；　perhaps？　But　no。　It　was　only　gasps。　In　the　books　that　rocked　on　the　shelves　behind　them？　Perhaps。
　She　drifted　closer　to　scrutinize　the　titles；　but　her　gaze　ran　beyond　spines　to　the　wall　against　which　they　stood。　The　bricks　were　the　same　plain　stuff　as　all　along　the　passages。　The　mortar　between　had　a　stain　in　it　she　recognized；　however：　an　unmistakable　blue。　Excited　now；　she　drove　her　mind　on；　past　the　lovers　and　the　books　and　through　the　brick。　It　was　dark　on　the　other　side；　darker　even　than　the　ground　she'd　dropped　through　to　enter　this　secret　place。　Nor　was　it　simply　a　darkness　made　of　light's　absence；　but　of　despair　and　sorrow。　Her　instinct　was　to　retreat　from　it；　but　there　was　another　presence　here　that　made　her　linger：　a　form；　barely　distinguishable　from　the　darkness；　lying　on　the　ground　in　this　squalid　cell。　It　was　bound…almost　co…cooned…its　face　pletely　covered。　The　binding　was　as　fine　as　thread；　and　had　been　wound　around　the　body　with　obsessive　care；　but　there　was　enough　of　its　shape　visible　for　her　to　be　certain　that　this；　like　the　ensnared　spirits　at　every　station　along　her　route；　was　also　a　woman。
　Her　binders　had　been　meticulous。　They'd　left　not　so　much　as　a　hair　or　toenail　visible。　Jude　hovered　over　the　body；　studying　it。　They　were　almost　plementary；　like　corpse　and　essence；　eternally　divided；　except　that　she　had　flesh　to　return　to。　At　least　she　hoped　she　did；　hoped　that　now　she'd　pleted　this　bizarre　pilgrimage；　and　had　seen　the　relie　in　the　wall；　she'd　be　allowed　to　return　to　her　tainted　skin。　But　something　still　held　her　here。　Not　the　darkness；　not　the　walls；　but　some　sense　of　unfinished　business。　Was　a　sign　of　veneration　required　of　her？　If　so；　what？　She　lacked　the　knees　for　genuflection；　and　the　lips　for　hosannas；　she　couldn't　stoop；　she　couldn't　touch　the　relic。　What　was　there　left　to　do？　Unless…God　help　her…she　had　to　enter　the　thing。
　She　knew　the　instant　she'd　formed　the　thought　that　this　was　precisely　why　she'd　been　brought　here。　She'd　left　her　living　flesh　to　enter　this　prisoner　of　brick；　cord；　and　decay；　a　thrice…bounded　carcass　from　which　she　might　never　emerge　again。　The　thought　revolted　her；　but　had　she　e　this　far　only　to　turn　back　because　this　last　rite　distressed　her　too　much？　Even　assuming　she　could　defy　the　forces　that　had　brought　her　here；　and　return　to　the　house　of　her　body　against　their　will；　wouldn't　she　wonder　forever　what　adventure　she'd　turned　her　back　on？　She　was　no　coward；　she　would　enter　the　relic　and　take　the　consequences。
　No　sooner　thought　than　done。　Her　mind　sank　towards　the　binding　and　slipped　between　the　threads　into　the　body's　maze。　She　had　expected　darkness；　but　there　was　light　here；　the　forms　of　the　body's　innards　delineated　by　the　milk…blue　she'd　e　to　know　as　the　color　of　this　mystery。　There　was　no　foulness；　no　corruption。　It　was　less　a　charnel　house　than　a　cathedral；　the　source；　she　now　suspected；　of　the　sacredness　that　permeated　this　underground。　But；　like　a　cathedral；　its　substance　was　quite　dead。　No　blood　ran　in　these　veins；　no　heart　pumped；　no　lungs　drew　breath。　She　spread　her　intention　through　the　stilled　anatomy；　to　feel　its　length　and　breadth。　The　dead　woman　had　been　large　in　life；　her　hips　substantial；　her　breasts　heavy。　But　the　binding　bit　into　her　ripeness　everywhere；　perverting　the　swell　and　sweep　of　her。　What　terrible　last　moments　she　must　have　known；　lying　blind　in　this　filth；　hearing　the　wall　of　her　mausoleum　being　built　brick　by　brick。　What　kind　of　crime　hung　on　her；　Jude　wondered；　that　she'd　been　condemned　to　such　a　death？　And　who　were　her　executioners；　the　builders　of　that　wall？　Had　they　sung　as　they　worked；　their　voices　growing　dimmer　as　the　brick　blotted　them　out？　Or　had　they　been　silent；　half　ashamed　of　their　cruelty？
　There　was　so　much　she　wished　she　knew；　and　none　of　it　answerable。　She'd　finished　her　journey　as　she'd　begun　it；　in　fear　and　confusion。　It　was　time　to　be　gone　from　the　relic；　and　home。　She　willed　herself　to　rise　out　of　the　dead　blue　flesh。　To　her　horror；　nothing　happened。　She　was　bound　here；　a　prisoner　within　a　prisoner。　God　help　her；　what　had　she　done？　Instructing　herself　not　to　panic；　she　concentrated　her　mind　on　the　problem；　picturing　the　cell　beyond　the　binding；　and　the　wall　she'd　passed　so　effortlessly　through；　and　the　lovers；　and　the　passageway　that　led　out　to　the　open　sky。　But　imagining　was　not　enough。　She　had　let　her　curiosity　overtake　her；　spreading　her　spirit　through　the　corpse；　and　now　it　had　claimed　that　spirit　for　itself。
　A　rage　began　in　her；　and　she　let　it　e。　It　was　as　recognizable　a　part　of　her　as　the　nose　on　her　face；　and　she　needed　all　that　she　was；　every　particular；　to　empower　her。　If　she'd　had　her　own　body　around　her　it　would　have　been　flushing　as　her　heartbeat　caught　the　rhythm　of　her　fury。　She　even　seemed　to　hear　it…the　first　sound　she'd　been　aware　of　since　leaving　the　house…the　pump　at　its　hectic　work。　It　was　not　imagined。　She　felt　it　in　the　body　around　her；　a　tremor　passing　through　the　long…stilled　system　as　her　rage　ignited　it　afresh。　In　the　throne　room　of　its　head　a　sleeping　mind　woke　and　knew　it　was　invaded。
　For　Jude　there　was　an　exquisite　moment　of　shared　consciousness；　when　a　mind　new　to　her…yet　sweetly　familiar…grazed　her　own。　Then　she　was　expelled　by　its　wakefulness。　She　heard　it　scream　in　horror　behind　her；　a　sound　of　mind　rather　than　throat；　which　went　with　her　as　she　sped　from　the　cell；　out　through　the　wall；　past　the　lovers　shaken　from　their　intercourse　by　falls　of　dust；　out　and　up；　into　the　rain；　and　into　a　night　not　blue　but　bitterest　black。　The　din　of　the　woman's　terror　acpanied　her　all　the　way　back　to　the　house；　where；　to　her　infinite　relief；　she　found　her　own　body　still　standing　in　the　candle…lit　room。　She　slid　into　it　with　ease；　and　stood　in　the　middle　of　the　room　for　a　minute　or　two；　sobbing；　until　she　began　to　shudder　with　cold。　She　found　her　dressing　gown　and；　as　she　put　it　on；　realized　that　her　wrists　and　elbows　were　no　longer　stained。　She　went　into　the　bathroom　and　consulted　the　mirror；　Her　face　was　similarly　cleansed。
　Still　shivering；　she　returned　to　the　living　room　to　look　for　the　blue　stone。　There　was　a　substantial　hole　in　the　wall　where　its　impact　had　gouged　out　the　plaster。　The　stone　itself　was　unharmed；　lying　on　the　rug　in　front　of　the　hearth。　She　didn't　pick　it　up。　She'd　had　enough　of　its　delirium　for　one　night。　Avoiding　its　baleful　glance　as　best　she　could；　she　threw　a　cushion　over　it。　Tomorrow　she'd　plan　some　way　of　ridding　herself　of　the　thing。　Tonight　she　needed　to　tell　somebody　what　she'd　experienced；　before　she　began　to　doubt　it。　Someone　a　little　crazy；　who'd　not　dismiss　her　account　out　of　hand；　someone　already　half　believing。　Gentle；　of　course。
　
　
　17
　
　TOWARDS　MIDNIGHT；　THE　TRAFFIC　outside　Gentle's　studio　dwindled　to　almost　nothing。　Anybody　who　was　going　to　a　party　tonight　had　arrived。　They　were　deep　in　drink；　debate；　or　seduction；　determined　as　they　celebrated　to　have　in　the　ing　year　what　the　going　had　denied　them。
　Content　with　his　solitude；　Gentle　sat　cross…legged　on　the　floor；　a　bottle　of　bourbon　between　his　legs　and　canvases　propped　up　against　the　furniture　all　around　him。　Most　of　them　were　blank；　but　that　suited　his　meditation。　So　was　the　future。
　He'd　been　sitting　in　this　ring　of　emptiness　for　about　two　hours；　drinking　from　the　bottle；　and　now　his　bladder　needed　emptying。　He　got　up　and　went　to　the　bathroom；　using　the　tight　from　the　lounge　to　go　by　rather　than　face　his　reflection。　As　he　shook　the　last　drops　into　the　bowl；　that　light　went　off。　He　zipped　himself　up　and　went　back　into　the　studio。　The　rain　lashed　against　the　window；　but　there　was　sufficient　illumination　from　the　street　for　him　to　see　that　the　door　out　onto　the　landing　stood　inches　ajar。
　〃Who's　there？〃　he　said。
　The　room　was　still　for　a　moment；　then　he　glimpsed　a　form　against　the　window；　and　the　smell　of　something　burned　and　cold　pricked　his　nostrils。　The　whistler！　My　God；　it　had　found　him！
　Fear　made　him　fleet。　He　broke　from　his　frozen　posture　and　raced　to　the　door。　He　would　have　been　through　it　and　away　down　the　stairs　had　he　not　almost　tripped　on　the　dog　waiting　obediently　on　the　other　side。　It　wagged　its　tail　in　pleasure　at　the　sight　of　him　and　halted　his　flight。　The　whistler　was　no　dog　lover。　So　who　was　here？
　Turning　back；　he　reached　for　the　light　switch　and　wasabout　to　flip　it　on　when　the　unmistakable　voice　of　Pie　'oh'　pah　said；　〃Please　don't。　I　prefer　the　dark。〃
　Gentle's　finger　dropped　from　the　switch；　his　heart　hammering　for　a　different　reason。　〃Pie？　Is　that　you？〃
　〃Yes；　it's　me；〃　came　the　reply。　〃I　heard　you　wanted　to　see　me；　from　a　friend　of　yours。〃
　〃I　thought　you　were　dead。〃
　〃I　was　with　the　dead。　Theresa　and　the　children。〃
　〃Oh；　God。　Oh；　God。〃
　〃You　lost　somebody　too；〃　Pie　'oh'　pah　said。
　It　was　wise；　Gentle　now　understood；　to　have　this　exchange　in　darkness：　to　talk；　in　shadow；　of　the　grave　and　the　lambs　it　had　claimed。
　〃I　was　with　the　spirits　of　my　children　for　a　time。　Your　friend　found　me　in　the　mourning　place；　spoke　to　me；　told　me　you　wanted　to　see　me　again。　This　surprises　me；　Gentle。〃
　〃As　much　as　you　talking　to　Taylor　surprises　me；〃　Gentle　replied；　though　after　their　conversation　it　shouldn't　have　done。　〃Is　he　happy？〃　he　asked；　knowing　the　question　might　be　viewed　as　a　banality；　but　wanting　reassurance。
　〃No　spirit　is　happy；〃　Pie　replied。　〃There's　no　release　for　them。　Not　in　this　Dominion　or　any　other。　They　haunt　the　doors；　waiting　to　leave；　but　there's　nowhere　for　them　to　go。〃
　〃Why？〃
　〃That's　a　question　that's　been　asked　for　many　generations；　Gentle。　And　unanswered。　As　a　child　I　was　taught　that　before　the　Unbeheld　went　into　the　First　Dominion　there　was　a　place　there　into　which　all　spirits　were　received。　My　people　lived　in　that　Dominion　then；　and　watched　over　that　place；　but　the　Unbeheld　drove　both　the　spirits　and　my　people　out。〃
　〃So　the　spirits　have　nowhere　to　go？〃
　〃Exactly。　Their　numbers　swell；　and　so　does　their　grief。〃
　He　thought　of　Taylor；　lying　on　his　deathbed；　dreaming
　of　release；　of　the　final　flight　into　the　Absolute。　Instead；　if
　Pie　was　to　be　believed；　his　spirit　had　entered　a　place　of　lost　souls；　denied　both　flesh　and　revelation。　What　price　understanding　now；　when　the　end　of　everything　was　limbo？
　〃Who　is　this　Unbeheld？〃　Gentle　said。
　〃Hapexamendios；　the　God　of　the　Imajica。〃
　〃Is　He　a　God　of　this　world　too？〃
　〃He　was　once。　But　He　went　out　of　the　Fifth　Dominion；　through　the　other　worlds；　laying　their　divinities　waste；　until　He　reached　the　Place　of　Spirits。　Then　He　drew　a　veil　across　that　Dominion…〃
　〃And　became　Unbeheld。〃
　〃That's　w