cb.imajica1-第71章
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climbers to the cliffs above the harbor and teetered on the plateaus that rose； tier on tier； towards the summit； many so crammed with houses that those closest to the edge had to be buttressed from below； the buttresses in turn encrusted with nests of life； winged； perhaps； or else suicidal。 Everywhere； the mountain teemed； its streets of steps； le…thafly precipitous； leading the eye from one brimming shelf to another： from leafless boulevards lined with fine mansions to gates that let onto shadowy arcades； then up to the city's six summits； on the highest of which stood the palace of the Autarch of the Imajica。 There was an abundance of a different order here； for the palace had more domes and towers than Rome； their obsessive elaboration visible even at this distance。 Rising above them all was the Pivot Tower； as plain as its fellows were baroque。 And high above that again； hanging in the white sky above the city； the et that brought the Dominion's long days and languid dusks： Yzordderrex's star； called Giess； the Witherer。
They stood for only a minute or so to admire the sight。 The daily traffic of workers who； having found no place of residence on the back or in the bowels of the city； muted in and out daily； had begun； and by the time the newers reached the other end of the causeway they were lost in a dusty throng of vehicles； bicycles； rickshaws； and pedestrians all making their way into Yzordderrex。 Three among tens of thousands： a scrawny young girl wearing a wide smile； a white man； perhaps once handsome but sickly now； his pale face half lost behind a ragged brown beard； and a Eurhetemec mystif； its eyes； like so many of its breed； barely concealing a private grief。 The crowd bore them forward； and they went unresisting where countless multitudes had gone before： into the belly of the city…god Yzordderrex。
30
When Dowd brought Judith back to Godolphin's house after the murder of Clara Leash； it was not as a free agent but as a prisoner。 She was confined to the bedroom she'd first occupied； and there she waited for Oscar's return。 When he came in to see her it was after a half…hour conversation with Dowd （she heard the murmur of their exchange； but not its substance）； and he told her as soon as he appeared that he had no wish to debate what had happened。 She'd acted against his best interests； which were finally…did she not realize this yet？…against her own too； and he would need time to think about the consequences for them both。
〃I trusted you；〃 he said； 〃more than I've ever trusted any woman in my life。 You betrayed me； exactly the way Dowd predicted you would。 I feel foolish； and I feel hurt。〃
〃Let me explain；〃 she said。
He raised his hands to hush her。 〃I don't want to hear；〃 he said。 〃Maybe in a few days we'll talk； but not now。〃
Her sense of loss at his retreat was almost overwhelmed by the anger she felt at his dismissal of her。 Did he believe her feelings for him were so trivial she'd not concerned herself with the consequences of her actions on them both？ Or worse： had Dowd convinced him that she'd been planning to betray him from the outset； and she'd calculated everything…the seduction； the confessions of devotion…in order to weaken him？ This latter scenario was the likelier of the two； but it didn't clear Oscar of guilt。 He had still failed to give her a chance to justify herself。
She didn't see him for three days。 Her food was served in her room by Dowd； and there she waited； hearing Oscar e and go； and on occasion hints of conversation on the stairs； enough to gather the impression that the Tabula Rasa's purge was reaching a critical point。 More than once she contemplated the possibility that what she'd been up to with Clara Leash made her a potential victim； and that day by day Dowd was eroding Oscar's reluctance to dispatch her。 Paranoia； perhaps； but if he had any scrap of feeling for her why didn't he e and see her？ Didn't he pine； the way she did？ Didn't he want her in his bed； for the animal fort of it if nothing else？ Several times she asked Dowd to tell Oscar she needed to speak with him； and Dowd… who affected the detachment of a jailer with a thousand other such prisoners to deal with daily…had said he'd do his best； but he doubted that Mr。 Godolphin would want to have any dealings with her。 Whether the message was municated or not； Oscar left her solitary in her confinement； and she realized that unless she took more forcible action she might never see daylight again。
Her escape plan was simple。 She forced the lock on her bedroom door with a knife unreturned after one of her meals…it wasn't the lock that kept her from straying； it was Dowd's warning that the mites which had murdered Clara were ready to claim her if she attempted to leave…and slipped out onto the landing。 She'd deliberately waited until Oscar was home before she made the attempt； believing； perhaps naively； that despite his withdrawal of affection he'd protect her from Dowd if her life was threatened。 She was sorely tempted to seek him out there and then。 But perhaps it would be easier to treat with him when she was away from the house and felt more like a mistress of her own destiny。 If； once she was safely away from the house； he chose to have no further contact with her； then her fear that Dowd had soured his feelings towards her permanently would be confirmed； and she would have to look for another way to get to Yzordderrex。
She made her way down the stairs with the utmost caution and； hearing voices at the front of the house； decided to make her exit through the kitchen。 The lights were burning everywhere； as usual。 The kitchen was deserted。 She crossed quickly to the door； which was bolted top and bottom； crouching to slide the lower bolt aside。
As she stood up Dowd said； 〃You won't get out that way。〃
She turned to see him standing at the kitchen table； bearing a tray of supper dishes。 His laden condition gave her hope that she might yet outmaneuver him； and she made a dash for the hallway。 But he was faster than she'd anticipated； setting down his burden and moving to stop her so quickly she had to retreat again； her hand catching one of the glasses on the table。 It fell； smashing musically；
〃Now look what you've done；〃 he said； with what seemed to be genuine distress。 He crossed to the shards and bent down to gather them up。 〃That glass had been in the family for generations。 I'd have thought you'd have had some fellow feeling for it。'5
Though she was in no temper to talk about broken glasses； she replied nevertheless； knowing her only hope lay in alerting Godolphin to her presence。
〃Why should I give a damn about a glass？〃 she said。
Dowd picked up a piece of the bowl； holding it to the light。
〃You've got so much in mon； lovey；〃 he said。 〃Both made in ignorance of yourselves。 Beautiful； but fragile。〃 He stood up。 〃You've always been beautiful。 Fashions e and go； but Judith is always beautiful。〃
〃You don't know a damn thing about me；〃 she said。
He put the shards on the table beside the rest of the dirty plates and cutlery。 〃Oh； but I do；〃 he said。 〃We're more alike than you realize。〃
He'd kept a glittering fragment back； and as he spoke he put it to his wrist。 She only just had time to register what he was about to do before he cut into his own flesh。 She looked away； but then…hearing the piece of glass dropped among the litter…glanced back。 The wound gaped； but there was no blood forthing； just an ooze of brackish sap。 Nor was the expression on Dowd's face pained。 It was simply intent。
〃You have a piffling recall of the past；〃 he said； 〃I have too much。 You have heat； I have none。 You're in love； I've never understood the word。 But Judith： we are the same。 Both slaves。〃
She looked from his face to the cut to his face to the cut to his face； and with every move of her pupils her panic increased。 She didn't want to hear any more from him。 She despised him。 She closed her eyes and conjured him at the voider's pyre； and in the shadow of the tower； crawling with mites； but however many horrors she put between them his words won through。 She'd given up attempting to solve the puzzle of herself a long time ago； but here he was； spilling pieces she couldn't help but pick up。
〃Who are you？〃 she said to him。
〃More to the point； who are you？〃
〃We're not the same；〃 she said。 〃Not even a little。 I bleed。 You don't。 I'm human。 You're not。〃
〃But is it your blood you bleed？〃 he said； 〃Ask yourself that。〃
〃It es out of my veins。 Of course it's mine。〃
〃Then who are you？〃 he said。
The inquiry was made without overt malice； but she didn't doubt its subversive purpose。 Somehow Dowd knew she was forgetful of her past and was pricking her to a confession。
〃I know what I'm not； 〃she said； earning herself the time to invent an answer。 〃I'm not a glass。 I'm not fragile or ignorant。 And I'm not…〃
What was the other quality he'd mentioned besides beauty and fragility？ He'd been stopping to pick up the pieces of broken glass； and he described her some way or other。
〃You're not what？〃 he said； watching her wrestle with her own reluctance to seize the memory。
She pictured him crossing the kitchen。 Now look what you've done； he'd said。 Then he'd stooped （she saw him do so； in her mind's eye） and as he'd begun to pick up the pieces； the words had e to his lips。 And now to her memory too。
〃That glass had been in the family for generations；〃 he'd said； 〃I'd have thought you'd have had some fellow feeling for it。〃
〃No；〃 she said aloud； shaking her head to keep the sense of this from congealing there。 But the motion only shook up other memories： of her trip to the estate with Charlie； when that pleasurable sense of belonging had suffused her and voices had called her sweet names from the past； of meeting Oscar on the threshold of the Retreat and knowing instantly she belonged at his side； without question； or care to question； of the portrait above Oscar's bed； gazing down on the bed with such a possessive stare he had turned off the light before they made love。
As these thoughts came； the shaking of her head grew wilder； the motion possessing her like a fit。 Tears spat from her eyes。 Her hands went out for help even as the power to request it went from her throat。 Through a blur of motion she was just able to see Dowd standing beside the table； his hand covering his wounded wrist； watching her impassively。 She turned from him； terrified that she'd choke on her tongue or break her head open if she fell； and knowing he'd do nothing to help her。 She wanted to cry out for Oscar； but all that came was a wretched gargling sound。 She stumbled forward； her head still thrashing； and as she did so saw Oscar in the hallway； ing towards her。 She pitched her arms in his direction and felt his hands upon her； to pull her up out of her collapse。 He failed。
He was beside her when she woke。 She wasn't lying in the narrow bed she'd been consigned to for the last few nights but in the wide four…poster in Oscar's room； the bed she'd e to think of as theirs。 It wasn't； of course。 Its true owner was the man whose image in oils had e back to her in the throes of her fit： the Mad Lord Godolphin； hanging above the pillows on which she lay and sitting beside her in a later
