cb.imajica1-第41章

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　〃What　is　it？〃　the　mystif　said；　bringing　its　beast　to　a　halt　and　following　Gentle's　gaze。
　It　didn't　need　telling。　A　column　of　black　smoke　was　rising　from　the　cradle　of　the　hills；　its　lower　plumes　tinged　with　fire。　Gentle　was　already　slipping　from　his　saddle；　and　now　he　scrambled　up　the　rock　face　at　their　side　to　get　a　better　sense　of　the　fire's　location。　He　lingered　only　seconds　at　the　top　before　scrambling　down；　sweating　and　panting。
　〃We　have　to　turn　back；〃　he　said。
　〃Why？〃
　〃Beatrix　is　burning。〃
　〃How　can　you　tell　from　this　distance？〃　Pie　said。
　〃I　know；　damn　it！　Beatrix　is　burning！　We　have　to　go　back。〃　He　climbed　onto　his　doeki　and　started　to　haul　it　around　on　the　narrow　path。
　〃Wait；〃　said　Pie。　〃Wait；　for　God's　sake！〃
　〃We　have　to　help　them；〃　Gentle　said；　against　the　rock　face。　〃They　were　good　to　us。〃
　〃Only　because　they　wanted　us　out！〃　Pie　replied。
　〃Well；　now　the　worst's　happened；　and　we　have　to　do　what　we　can。〃
　〃You　used　to　be　more　rational　than　this。〃
　〃What　do　you　mean；　used　to　be？　You　don't　know　anything　about　me；　so　don't　start　making　judgments。　If　you　won't　e　with　me；　fuck　you！〃
　The　doeki　was　fully　turned　now；　and　Gentle　dug　his　heels　into　its　flanks　to　make　it　pick　up　speed。　There　had　only　been　three　or　four　places　along　the　route　where　the　road　had　divided。　He　was　certain　he　could　retrace　their　steps　back　to　Beatrix　without　much　problem。　And　if　he　was　right；　and　it　was　the　town　that　was　burning　up　ahead；　he　would　have　the　column　of　smoke　as　a　grim　marker。
　The　mystif　followed；　after　a　time；　as　Gentle　knew　it　must。　It　was　happy　to　be　called　a　friend；　but　somewhere　in　its　soul　it　was　a　slave。
　They　didn't　speak　as　they　traveled；　which　was　not　surprising　given　their　last　exchange。　Only　once；　as　they　mounted　a　ridge　that　laid　the　vista　of　foothills　before　them；　with　the　valley　in　which　Beatrix　nestled　still　out　of　sight　but　unequivocally　the　source　of　the　smoke；　did　Pie　'oh'　pah　murmur；　〃Why　is　it　always　fire？〃　and　Gentle　realized　how　insensitive　he'd　been　to　his　panion's　reluctance　to　return。　The　devastation　that　undoubtedly　lay　before　them　was　an　echo　of　the　fire　in　which　its　adopted　family　had　perished…a　matter　that　had　gone　undiscussed　between　them　since。
　〃Shall　I　go　from　here　without　you？〃　he　asked。
　The　mystif　shook　its　head。　〃Together；　or　not　at　all；〃　it　said。
　The　route　became　easier　to　negotiate　from　there　on。　The　inclines　were　mellower　and　the　track　itself　better　kept；　but　there　was　also　light　in　the　sky；　as　the　long…delayed　dawn　finally　came。　By　the　time　they　finally　laid　their　eyes　on　the　remains　of　Beatrix；　the　peacock…tail　glory　Gentle　had　first　admired　in　the　heavens　over　Patashoqua　was　overhead；　its　glamour　making　grimmer　still　the　scene　laid　below。　Beatrix　was　still　burning　fitfully；　but　the　fire　had　consumed　most　of　the　houses　and　their　birch…bamboo　arbors。　He　brought　his　doeki　to　a　halt　and　scoured　the　place　from　this　vantage　point。　There　was　no　sign　of　Beatrix's　destroyers。
　〃On　foot　from　here？〃　Gentle　said。
　〃I　think　so；〃
　They　tethered　the　beasts　and　descended　into　the　village。　The　sound　of　lamentation　reached　them　before　they　were　within　its　perimeters；　the　sobbing；　emerging　as　it　did　from　the　murk　of　the　smoke；　reminding　Gentle　of　the　sounds　he'd　heard　while　keeping　his　vigil　on　the　hill。　The　destruction　around　them　now　was　somehow　a　consequence　of　that　sightless　encounter；　he　knew。　Though　he'd　avoided　the　eye　of　the　watcher　in　the　darkness；　his　presence　had　been　suspected；　and　that　had　been　enough　to　bring　this　calamity　upon　Beatrix。
　〃I'm　responsible；〃　he　said；　〃God　help　me　。　。　。　I'm　responsible。〃
　He　turned　to　the　mystif；　who　was　standing　in　the　middle　of　the　street；　its　features　drained　of　blood　and　expression。
　〃Stay　here；〃　Gentle　said。　〃I'm　going　to　find　the　family。〃
　Pie　didn't　register　any　response；　but　Gentle　assumed　what　he'd　said　had　been　understood　and　headed　off　in　the　direction　of　the　Splendids'　house。　It　wasn't　simply　fire　that　had　undone　Beatrix。　Some　of　the　houses　had　been　toppled　unburned；　the　copses　around　them　uprooted。　There　was　no　sign　of　fatalities；　however；　and　Gentle　began　to　hope　that　Coaxial　Tasko　had　persuaded　the　villagers　to　take　to　the　hills　before　Beatrix's　violators　had　appeared　out　of　the　night。　That　hope　was　dashed　when　he　came　to　the　place　where　the　Splendids'　home　had　stood。　It　was　rubble；　like　the　others；　and　the　smoke　from　its　burning　timbers　had　concealed　from　him　until　now　the　horror　heaped　in　front　of　it。　Here　were　the　good　people　of　Beatrix；　shoveled　together　in　a　bleeding　pile　higher　than　his　head。　There　were　a　few　sobbing　survivors　at　the　heap；　looking　for　their　loved　ones　in　the　confusion　of　broken　bodies；　some　clutching　at　limbs　they　thought　they　recognized；　others　simply　kneeling　in　the　bloody　dirt；　keening。
　Gentle　walked　around　the　pile；　searching　among　the　mourners　for　a　face　he　knew。　One　fellow　he'd　seen　laughing　at　the　show　was　cradling　in　his　arms　a　wife　or　sister　whose　body　was　as　lifeless　as　the　puppets　he'd　taken　such　pleasure　in。　Another；　a　woman；　was　burrowing　in　among　the　bodies；　yelling　somebody's　name。　He　went　to　help　her；　but　she　screamed　at　him　to　stay　away。　As　he　retreated　he　caught　sight　of　Efreet。　The　boy　was　in　the　heap；　his　eyes　open；　his　mouth…which　had　been　the　vehicle　for　such　unalloyed　enthusiasms…beaten　in　by　a　rifle　butt　or　a　boot。　At　that　moment　Gentle　wanted　nothing…not　life　itself…as　much　as　he　wanted　the　bastard　who'd　done　this；　standing　in　his　sights。　He　felt　the　killing　breath　hot　in　his　throat；　itching　to　be　merciless。
　He　turned　from　the　heap；　looking　for　some　target；　even　if　it　wasn't　the　murderer　himself。　Someone　with　a　gun　or　a　uniform；　a　man　he　could　call　the　enemy。　He　couldn't　remember　ever　feeling　this　way　before；　but　then　he'd　never　possessed　the　power　he　had　now…or　rather；　if　Pie　was　to　be　believed；　he'd　had　it　without　recognizing　the　fact…and　agonizing　as　these　horrors　were；　it　was　salve　to　his　distress；　knowing　there　was　such　a　capacity　for　cleansing　in　him：　that　his　lungs；　throat；　and　palm　could　take　the　guilty　out　of　life　with　such　ease。　He　headed　away　from　the　cairn　of　flesh；　ready　to　be　an　executioner　at　the　first　invitation。
　The　street　twisted；　and　he　followed　its　convolutions；　turning　a　corner　to　find　the　way　ahead　blocked　by　one　of　the　invaders'　war　machines。　He　stopped　in　his　tracks；　expecting　it　to　turn　its　steel　eyes　upon　him。　It　was　a　perfect　death…bringer；　armored　as　a　crab；　its　wheels　bristling　with　bloodied　scythes；　its　turret　with　armaments。　But　death　had　found　the　bringer。　Smoke　rose　from　the　turret；　and　the　driver　lay　where　the　fire　had　found　him；　in　the　act　of　scrabbling　from　the　machine's　stomach。　A　small　victory；　but　one　that　at　least　proved　the　machines　had　frailties。　e　another　day；　that　knowledge　might　be　the　difference　between　hope　and　despair。　He　was　turning　his　back　on　the　machine　when　he　heard　his　name　called；　and　Tasko　appeared　from　behind　the　smoking　carcass。　Wretched　he　was；　his　face　bloodied；　his　clothes　filthy　with　dust。
　〃Bad　timing；　Zacharias；〃　he　said。　〃You　left　too　late　and　now　you　e　back；　too　late　again。〃
　〃Why　did　they　do　this？〃
　〃The　Autarch　doesn't　need　reasons。〃
　〃He　was　here？〃　Gentle　said。　The　thought　that　the　Butcher　of　Yzordderrex　had　stood　in　Beatrix　made　his　heart　beat　faster。
　But　Tasko　said；　〃Who　knows？　Nobody's　ever　seen　his　face。　Maybe　he　was　here　yesterday；counting　the　children；　and　nobody　even　noticed　him。〃
　〃Do　you　know　where　Mother　Splendid　is？〃
　〃In　the　heap　somewhere。〃
　〃Jesus。　。　。〃
　〃She　wouldn't　have　made　a　very　good　witness。　She　was　too　crazy　with　grief。　They　left　alive　the　ones　who'd　tell　the　story　best。　Atrocities　need　witnesses；　Zacharias。　People　to　spread　the　word。〃
　〃They　did　this　as　a　warning？〃　Gentle　said。
　Tasko　shook　his　huge　head。　〃I　don't　know　how　their　minds　work；〃　he　said。
　〃Maybe　we　have　to　learn；　so　we　can　stop　them。〃
　〃I'd　prefer　to　die；〃　the　man　replied；　〃than　understand　filth　like　that。　If　you've　got　the　appetite；　then　go　to　Yzordderrex。　You'll　get　your　education　there。〃
　〃I　want　to　help　here；〃　Gentle　said。　〃There　must　be　something　I　can　do。〃
　〃You　can　leave　us　to　mourn。〃
　If　there　was　any　profounder　dismissal；　Gentle　didn't　know　it。　He　searched　for　some　word　of　fort　or　apology；　but　in　the　face　of　such　devastation　only　silence　seemed　appropriate。　He　bowed　his　head；　and　left　Tasko　to　the　burden　of　being　a　witness；　returning　up　the　street　past　the　heap　of　corpses　to　where　Pie　'oh'　pah　was　standing。　The　mystif　hadn't　moved　an　inch；　and　even　when　Gentle　came　abreast　of　it；　and　quietly　told　it　they　should　go；　it　was　a　long　time　before　it　looked　round　at　him。
　〃We　shouldn't　have　e　back；〃　it　said。
　〃Every　day　we　waste；　this　is　going　to　happen　again。　。　。。〃
　〃You　think　you　can　stop　it？〃　Pie　said；　with　a　trace　of　sarcasm。
　〃We　won't　go　the　long　way　around；　we'll　go　through　the　mountains。　Save　ourselves　three　weeks。〃
　〃You　do；　don't　you？〃　Pie　said。　〃You　think　you　can　stop　this。〃
　〃We　won't　die；〃　Gentle　said；　putting　his　arms　around　Pie　'oh'　pah。　〃I　won't　let　us。　I　came　here　to　understand；　and　I　will。〃
　〃How　much　more　of　this　can　you　take？〃
　〃As　much　as　I　have　to。〃　〃I　may　remind　you　of　that；〃
　〃I'll　remember；〃　Gentle　said。　〃After　this；　I'll　remember　everything。〃
　
　
　21
　
　The　Retreat　at　the　Godolphin　estate　had　been　built　in　an　age　of　follies；　when　the　oldest　sons　of　the　rich　and　mighty；　having　no　wars　to　distract　them；　amused　themselves　spending　the　gains　of　generations　on　buildings　whose　only　function　was　to　flatter　their　egos。　Most　of　these　lunacies；　designed　without　care　for　basic　architectural　principles；　were　dust　before　their　designers。　A　few；　however；　became　noteworthy　even　in　neglect；　either　because　somebody　associated　with　them　had　lived　or　died　in　notoriety　or　because　they　were　the　scene　of　some　drama。
　The　Retreat　fell　into　both　categories。　Its　architect；　Geoffrey　Light；　had　died　within　six　months　of　its　pletion；　choked　by　a　bull's　pizzle　in　the　wilds　of　West　Riding；　a　grotesquerie　which　attracted　some　attention…as　did　the　retirement　from　the　public　eye　of　Light's　patron；　Lord　Joshua　Godolphin；　whose　decline　into　insanity　was　the　talk　of　court　and　coffeehouse　for　many　years。　Even　at　his　zenith　he'd　attracted　gossip；　mainly　because　he　kept　the　pany　of　magicians。　Cagliostro；　the　te　de　St。　Germain；　and　even　Casanova　（reputedly　no　mean　thaumaturgist）　had　spent　time　on　the　estate；　as　well　as　a　host　of　lesser…known　practitioners。
　His　Lordship　had　made　no　secret　of　his　occult　investigations；　though　the　work　he　was　truly　undertaking　was　never　known　to　the　gossips。　They　assumed　he　kept　pany　with　these　mountebanks　for　their　entertainment　value。　Whatever　his　reasons；　the　fact　that　he　retired　from　sight　so　suddenly　drew　further　attention　to　his　last　indulgence；　the　folly　Light　had　built　for　him。　A　diary　purporting　to　have　belonged　to　the　choked　architect　appeared　a　year　after　his　demise；　containing　an　account　of　the　Retreat's　construction。　Whether　it　was　the　genuine　article　or　not；　it　made　bizarre　reading。　The　foundations　had　been　laid；　it　said；　under　stars　calculated　to　be　particularly　propitious；　the　masons…　sought　and　hired　in　a　dozen　cities…had　been　sworn　to　silence　with　an　oath　of　Arabic　ferocity。　The　stones　themselves　had　been