cb.imajica1-第47章

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　〃Whoever　said　it；　it's　true。　Hapexamendios　came　into　the　Dominions　with　a　seductive　idea：　that　wherever　you　went；　whatever　misfortune　attended　you；　you　needed　only　one　name　on　your　lips；　one　prayer；　one　altar；　and　you'd　be　in　His　care。　And　He　brought　a　species　to　maintain　that　order　once　He'd　established　it。　Yours。〃
　〃Those　women　back　there　looked　human　enough　to　me。〃
　〃So　do　I；〃　Pie　reminded　him。　〃But　I'm　not。〃
　〃No　。　。　。　you're　pretty　diverse；　aren't　you？〃
　〃I　was　once。　。　。。〃
　〃So　that　puts　you　on　the　side　of　the　Goddesses；　doesn't　it？〃　Gentle　whispered。
　The　mystif　put　its　finger　to　his　lips。
　Gentle　mouthed　one　word　by　way　of　response：　〃Heretic。〃
　It　was　very　dark　now；　and　they　both　settled　to　studying　the　fire。　It　was　steadily　diminishing　as　the　last　of　Chester's　saddle　was　consumed。
　〃Maybe　we　should　burn　some　fur；〃　Gentle　suggested。
　〃No；〃　said　Pie。　〃Let　it　dwindle。　But　keep　looking。〃
　〃At　what？〃
　〃Anything。〃
　〃There's　only　you　to　look　at。〃
　〃Then　look　at　me。〃
　He　did　so。　The　privations　of　the　last　many　days　had　seemingly　taken　little　toll　on　the　mystif。　It　had　no　facial　hair　to　disfigure　the　symmetry　of　its　features；　nor　had　their　spar…tan　diet　pinched　its　cheeks　or　hollowed　its　eyes。　Studying　its　face　was　like　returning　to　a　favorite　painting　in　a　museum。　There　it　was：　a　thing　of　calm　and　beauty。　But；　unlike　the　painting；　the　face　before　him；　which　presently　seemed　so　solid；　had　the　capacity　for　infinite　change。　It　was　months　since　the　night　when　he'd　first　seen　that　phenomenon。　But　now；　as　the　fire　burned　itself　out　and　the　shadows　deepened　around　them；　he　realized　the　same　sweet　miracle　was　imminent。　The　flicker　of　dying　flame　made　the　symmetry　swim；　the　flesh　before　him　seemed　to　lose　its　fixedness　as　he　stared　and　stirred　it。
　〃I　want　to　watch；〃　he　murmured。
　〃Then　watch。〃
　〃But　the　fire's　going　out。　。　。。〃
　〃We　don't　need　light　to　see　each　other；〃　the　mystif　whispered。　〃Hold　on　to　the　sight。〃
　Gentle　concentrated；　studying　the　face　before　him。　His　eyes　ached　as　he　tried　to　hold　onto　it；　but　they　were　no　petition　for　the　swelling　darkness。
　〃Stop　looking；〃　Pie　said；　in　a　voice　that　seemed　to　rise　from　the　decay　of　the　embers。　〃Stop　looking；　and　see。〃
　Gentle　fought　for　the　sense　of　this；　but　it　was　no　more　susceptible　to　analysis　than　the　darkness　in　front　of　him。　Two　senses　were　failing　him　here…one　physical；　one　linguistic…two　ways　to　embrace　the　world　slipping　from　him　at　the　same　moment。　It　was　like　a　little　death；　and　a　panic　seized　him；　like　the　fear　he'd　felt　some　midnights　waking　in　his　bed　and　body　and　knowing　neither：　his　bones　a　cage；　his　blood　a　gruel；　his　dissolution　the　only　certainty。　At　such　times　he'd　turned　on　all　the　lights；　for　their　fort。　But　there　were　no　lights　here。　Only　bodies；　growing　colder　as　the　fire　died。
　〃Help　me；〃　he　said。　The　mystif　didn't　speak。　〃Are　you　there；　Pie？　I'm　afraid。　Touch　me；　will　you？　Pie？〃
　The　mystif　didn't　move。　Gentle　started　to　reach　out　in　the　darkness；　remembering　as　he　did　so　the　sight　of　Taylor　lying　on　a　pillow　from　which　they'd　both　known　he'd　never　rise　again；　asking　for　Gentle　to　hold　his　hand。　With　that　memory；　the　panic　became　sorrow：　for　Taylor；　for　Clem；　for　every　soul　sealed　from　its　loved　ones　by　senses　born　to　failure；　himself　included。　He　wanted　what　the　child　wanted：　knowledge　of　another　presence；　proved　in　touch。　But　he　knew　it　was　no　real　solution。　He　might　find　the　mystif　in　the　darkness；　but　he　could　no　more　hold　on　to　its　flesh　forever　than　he　could　hold　the　senses　he'd　already　lost。　Nerves　decayed；　and　fingers　slipped　from　fingers　at　the　last。
　Knowing　this　little　solace　was　as　hopeless　as　any　other；　he　withdrew　his　hand　and　instead　said；　〃I　love　you。〃
　Or　did　he　simply　think　it？　Perhaps　it　was　thought；　because　it　was　the　idea　rather　than　the　syllables　that　formed　in　front　of　him；　the　iridescence　he　remembered　from　Pie's　transforming　self　shimmering　in　a　darkness　that　was　not；　he　vaguely　understood；　the　darkness　of　the　starless　night　but　his　mind's　darkness；　and　this　seeing　not　the　business　of　eye　and　object　but　his　exchange　with　a　creature　he　loved；　and　who　loved　him　back。
　He　let　his　feelings　go　to　Pie；　if　there　was　indeed　a　going；　which　he　doubted。　Space；　like　time；　belonged　to　the　other　tale…to　the　tragedy　of　separation　they'd　left　behind。　Stripped　of　his　senses　and　their　necessities；　almost　unborn　again；　he　knew　the　mystif　s　fort　as　it　knew　his；　and　that　dissolution　he'd　woken　in　terror　of　so　many　times　stood　revealed　as　the　beginning　of　bliss。
　A　gust　of　wind；　blowing　between　the　rocks；　caught　the　embers　at　their　side；　and　their　glow　became　a　momentary　flame。　It　brightened　the　face　in　front　of　him；　and　the　sight　summoned　him　back　from　his　unborn　state。　It　was　no　great　hardship　to　return。　The　place　they'd　found　together　was　out　of　time　and　could　not　decay；　and　the　face　in　front　of　him；　for　all　its　frailty　（or　perhaps　because　of　it）；　was　beautiful　to　look　at。　Pie　smiled　at　him　but　said　nothing。
　〃We'should　sleep；〃　Gentle　said。　〃We've　got　a　long　way　to　go　tomorrow。〃
　Another　gust　came　along；　and　there　were　flecks　of　snow　in　it；　stinging　Gentle's　face。　He　pulled　the　hood　of　his　coat　up　over　his　head　and　got　up　to　check　on　the　welfare　of　the　doeki。　It　had　made　a　shallow　bed　for　itself　in　the　snow　and　was　asleep。　By　the　time　he　got　back　to　the　fire；　which　had　found　some　bustible　morsel　and　was　devouring　it　brightly；　the　mystif　was　also　asleep；　its　hood　pulled　up　around　its　head。　As　he　stared　down　at　the　visible　crescent　of　Pie's　face；　a　simple　thought　came：　that　though　the　wind　was　moaning　at　the　rock；　ready　to　bury　them；　and　there　was　death　in　the　valley　behind　and　a　city　of　atrocities　ahead；　he　was　happy。　He　lay　down　on　the　hard　ground　beside　the　mystif。　His　last　thought　as　sleep　came　was　of　Taylor；　lying　on　a　pillow　which　was　being　a　snowfield　as　he　drew　his　final　breaths；　his　face　growing　translucent　and　finally　disappearing；　so　that　when　Gentle　slipped　from　consciousness；　it　was　not　into　darkness　but　into　the　whiteness　of　that　deathbed；　turned　to　untrodden　snow。
　
　
　23
　
　Gentle　dreamed　that　the　wind　grew　harsher　and　brought　snow　down　off　the　peaks；　fresh　minted。　He　nevertheless　rose　from　the　relative　fort　of　his　place　beside　the　ashes；　and　took　off　his　coat　and　shirt；　took　off　his　boots　and　socks；　took　off　his　trousers　and　underwear；　and　naked　walked　down　the　narrow　corridor　of　rock；　past　the　sleeping　doeki；　to　face　the　blast。　Even　in　dreams；　the　wind　threatened　to　freeze　his　marrow；　but　he　had　his　sights　set　on　the　glacier；　and　he　had　to　go　to　it　in　all　humility；　bare…loined；　barebacked；　to　show　due　respect　for　those　souls　who　suffered　there。　They　had　endured　centuries　of　pain；　the　crime　against　them　unrevenged。　Beside　theirs；　his　suffering　was　a　minor　thing。
　There　was　sufficient　light　in　the　wide　sky　to　show　him　his　way；　but　the　wastes　seemed　endless；　and　the　gusts　worsened　as　he　went；　several　times　throwing　him　over　into　the　snow。　His　muscles　cramped　and　his　breath　shortened；　ing　from　between　his　numbed　lips　in　hard；　small　clouds。　He　wanted　to　weep　for　the　pain　of　it；　but　the　tears　crystallized　on　the　ledge　of　his　eye　and　would　not　fall。
　Twice　he　stopped；　because　he　sensed　that　there　was　something　more　than　snow　on　the　storm's　back。　He　remembered　Pie's　talk　of　agents　left　in　this　wilderness　to　guard　the　murder　site　and；　though　he　was　only　dreaming　and　knew　it；　he　was　still　afraid。　If　these　entities　were　charged　to　keep　witnesses　from　the　glacier；　they　would　not　simply　drive　the　wakeful　off　but　the　sleeping　too；　and　those　who　came　as　he　came；　in　reverence；　would　earn　their　special　ire。　He　studied　the　spattered　air；　looking　for　some　sign　of　them；　and　once　thought　he　glimpsed　a　form　overhead　that　would　have　been　invisible　but　that　it　displaced　the　snow：　an　eel's　body　with　a　tiny　ball　of　a　head。　But　it　was　e　and　gone　loo　quickly　for　him　to　be　certain　he'd　even　seen　it。
　The　glacier　was　in　sight；　however；　and　his　will　drove　his　limbs　to　motion；　until　he　was　standing　at　its　edge。　He　raised　his　hands　to　his　face　and　wiped　the　snow　from　his　cheeks　and　forehead；　then　stepped　onto　the　ice。　The　women　gazed　up　at　him　as　they　had　when　he'd　stood　here　with　Pie　'oh'　pah；　but　now；　through　the　dust　of　snow　blowing　across　the　ice；　they　saw　him　naked；　his　manhood　shrunk；　his　body　trembling；　on　his　face　and　lips　a　question　he　had　half　an　answer　to。　Why；　if　this　was　indeed　the　work　of　Hapexamen…dios；　had　the　Unbeheld；　with　all　His　powers　of　destruction；　not　obliterated　every　last　sign　of　His　victims？　Was　it　because　they　were　women　or；　more　particularly；　women　of　power？　Had　He　brought　them　to　ruin　as　best　He　could…　overturning　their　altars　and　unseating　their　temples…but　at　the　last　been　unable　to　wipe　them　away？　And　if　so；　was　this　ice　a　grave　or　merely　a　prison？
　He　dropped　to　his　knees　and　laid　his　palms　on　the　glacier。　This　time　he　definitely　heard　a　sound　in　the　wind；　a　raw　howl　somewhere　overhead。　The　invisibles　had　entertained　his　dreaming　presence　long　enough。　They　saw　his　purpose　and　were　circling　in　preparation　for　descent。　He　blew　against　his　palm　and　made　a　fist　before　the　breath　could　slip；　then　raised　his　arm　and　slammed　his　hand
　against　the　ice；　opening　it　as　he　did　so。
　The　pneuma　went　off　like　a　thunderclap。　Before　the
　tremors　had　died　he　snatched　a　second　breath　and　broke　it
　gainst　the　ice；　then　a　third　and　fourth　in　quick　succession；
　striking　the　steely　surface　so　hard　that　had　the　pneuma　not
　cushioned　the　blow　he'd　have　broken　every　bone　from
　wrist　to　fingertip。　But　his　efforts　had　effect。　There　were
　hairline　cracks　spreading　from　the　point　of　impact。
　Encouraged；　he　began　a　second　round　of　blows；　but　he'd　delivered　only　three　when　he　felt　something　take　hold　of　his　hair；　wrenching　his　head　back。　A　second　grip　instantly　seized　his　raised　arm。　He　had　time　to　feel　the　ice　splintering　beneath　his　legs；　then　he　was　hauled　up　off　the　glacier　by　wrist　and　hair。　He　struggled　against　the　claim；　knowing　that　if　his　assaulters　carried　him　too　high　death　was　assured；　they'd　either　tear　him　apart　in　the　clouds　or　simply　drop　him。　The　hold　on　his　head　was　the　less　secure　of　the　two；　and　his　gyrations　were　sufficient　to　slip　it；　though　blood　ran
　down　his　brow。
　Freed；　he　looked　up　at　the　entities。　There　were　two；　six　feet　long；　their　bodies　scantily；　fleshed　spines　sprouting　innumerable　ribs；　their　limbs　twelvefold　and　bereft　of　bone；　their　heads　vestigial。　Only　their　motion　had　beauty：　a　sinuous　knotting　and　unknotting。　He　reached　up　and　snatched　at　the　closer　of　the　two　heads。　Though　it　had　no　discernible　features；　it　looked　tender；　and　his　hand　had　sufficient　echo　of　the　pneumas　it　had　discharged　to　do　harm。　He　dug　his　fingers　into　the　flesh　of　the　thing；　and　it　instantly　began　to　writhe；　coiling　its　length　around　its　panion　for　support；　its　limbs　flailing　wildly。　He　twisted　his　body　to　the　left　and　right；　the　motion　violent　enough　to　wrench　him　free。　Then　he　fell；　a　mere　six　feet　but　hard；　onto　slivered　ice。　The　breath　went　from　him　as　the　pain　came。　He　had　time　to　see　the　agents　descending　upon　him；　but　none　in　which　to　escape。　Waking　or　sleeping；　this　was　the　end　of　him；　he　knew；　death　by　these　limbs　had　jurisdiction　in　both　states。
　But　before　the