cb.imajica2-第11章

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　〃What　are　you　thinking？〃　he　asked。
　〃Do　you　really　want　to　know？〃
　〃I　do。　We're　friends；　aren't　we？　At　least　getting　that　way。　Tell　me。〃
　〃I　was　thinking　it's　not　good　you　care　too　much　about　the　way　she　looks。　The　Erasure's　no　place　to　be　in　love　with　things　as　they　are。　People　heal　there；　but　they　also　change；　you　understand？〃　He　took　both　hands　off　the　wheel　to　make　cupped　palms；　like　scales。　〃There's　got　to　be　a　balance。　Something　given；　something　taken　away。〃
　〃What　kind　of　changes？〃　Gentle　said。
　〃Different　from　one　to　another；〃　Floccus　said。　〃But　you'll　see　for　yourself；　very　soon。　When　we　get　close　to　the　First　Dominion；　nothing's　quite　as　it　seems。〃
　〃Isn't　that　true　of　everything？〃　Gentle　said。　〃The　more　I　live；　the　less　I　seem　to　be　certain　about。〃
　Floccus'　hands　were　back　on　the　wheel；　his　burst　of　sunny　talk　suddenly　overcast。　〃I　don't　think　Father　Athanasius　ever　talked　about　that；〃　he　said。　〃Maybe　he　did。　I　don't　remember　everything　he　said。〃
　The　conversation　ended　there；　leaving　Gentle　to　wonder　if　in　bringing　the　mystif　back　to　the　borders　of　the　Dominion　from　which　its　people　had　been　exiled；　returning　the　great　transformer　to　a　land　in　which　transformation　was　a　monplace；　he　was　undoing　the　knot　Athanasius　had　tied　in　the　Cradle　of　Chzercemit。
　
　Jude　had　never　been　much　impressed　with　architectural　rhetoric；　and　she　found　nothing　in　the　courtyards　or　corridors　of　the　Autarch's　palace　to　dissuade　her　from　that　indifference。　There　were　some　sights　that　put　her　in　mind　of　natural　splendors：　smoke　drifting　across　the　forsaken　gardens　like　morning　mist；　or　clinging　to　the　cold　stone　of　the　towers　like　cloud　to　a　mountain　spire。　But　such　punnish　pleasures　were　few。　It　was　mostly　bombast：　everything　built　on　a　scale　intended　to　be　awe…inspiring　but　to　her　eye　merely　monolithic。
　She　was　glad　when　they　finally　reached　Quaisoir's　quarters；　which　for　all　their　absurd　ornamentation　were　at　least　humanized　by　their　excesses。　And　they　also　heard　there　the　first　friendly　voice　in　many　hours；　though　its　weling　tones　turned　to　horror　when　its　owner；　Quaisoir's　many…tailed　handmaiden；　Concupiscentia；　saw　that　her　mistress　had　gained　a　twin　and　lost　her　eyes　in　the　night　she'd　spent　looking　for　salvation。　Only　after　a　good　deal　of　lamentation　could　she　be　persuaded　to　tend　to　Quaisoir；　which　she　did　with　trembling　hands。　The　et　was　by　now　making　its　steep　ascent；　and　from　Quaisoir's　window　Jude　had　a　panoramic　view　of　the　desolation。　She'd　heard　and　seen　enough　in　her　short　time　here　to　realize　that　Yzordderrex　had　been　ripe　for　the　calamity　that　had　overtaken　it；　and　some　in　this　city；　perhaps　many；　had　fanned　the　fire　that　had　destroyed　the　Kesparates；　calling　it　a　just　and　cleansing　flame。　Even　Peccable…who　hadn't　got　an　anarchist　bone　in　his　bodyhad　intimated　that　Yzordderrex's　time　had　e。　But　Jude　still　mourned　its　passing。　This　was　the　city　she'd　begged　Oscar　to　show　her；　whose　air　had　smelled　so　temptingly　spicy；　and　whose　warmth；　issuing　from　the　Retreat　that　day；　had　seemed　paradisiacal。　Now　she　would　return　to　the　Fifth　Dominion　with　its　ash　on　her　soles　and　its　smuts　in　her　nose；　like　a　tourist　back　from　Venice　with　pictures　of　bubbles　in　a　lagoon。
　〃I'm　so　tired；〃　Quaisoir　said。　〃Will　you　mind　if　I　sleep？〃
　〃Of　course　not；〃　Jude　said。
　〃Is　Seidux's　blood　still　on　the　bed？〃　she　asked　Concupiscentia。
　〃It　is；　ma'am。〃
　〃Then　I　won't　lie　there；　I　think。〃　She　put　out　her　arm。　〃Lead　me　to　the　little　blue　room。　I'll　sleep　there。　Judith；　you　should　sleep　too。　Bathe　and　sleep。　We've　got　so　much　to　plan　together。〃
　〃We　do？〃
　〃Oh；　yes；　sister；〃　Quaisoir　said。　〃But　later。。。。〃
　She　let　Concupiscentia　lead　her　away；　leaving　Jude　to　wander　through　the　chambers　which　Quaisoir　had　occupied　all　her　years　of　power。　There　was　indeed　a　little　blood　on　the　sheets；　but　the　bed　looked　tempting　nevertheless；　the　scent　off　it　dizzyingly　strong。　She　refused　its　lush　blandishments；　however；　and　moved　in　search　of　a　bathroom；　anticipating　another　chamber　of　baroque　excess。　In　fact　it　proved　to　be　the　only　room　in　the　suite　that　came　within　shouting　distance　of　restraint；　and　she　happily　lingered　there；　running　a　hot　bath　and　soaking　some　of　the　ashes　out　of　her　body　while　contemplating　her　misty　reflection　in　its　black　tiles。
　When　she　emerged；　her　skin　tingling；　the　clothes　she'd　sloughed　off…which　were　filthy　and　stinking…revolted　her。　She　left　them　on　the　floor　and；　instead；　putting　on　the　most　subdued　of　the　robes　that　lay　scattered　around　the　bedroom；　took　to　the　scented　sheets。　A　man　had　been　killed　here　only　a　few　hours　before；　but　that　thought…which　would　once　have　driven　her　from　the　room；　much　less　the　bed…concerned　her　not　at　all。　She　didn't　discount　the　possibility　that　this　disinterest　in　the　bed's　sordid　past　was　in　part　the　influence　of　the　scents　off　the　pillow　she　laid　her　head　upon。　They　conspired　with　fatigue；　and　with　the　heat　of　the　bath　from　which　she'd　risen；　to　induce　a　languor　she　couldn't　have　resisted　had　her　life　depended　upon　it。　The　tension　went　from　her　sinews　and　joints；　her　belly　gave　up　its　jitters。　Closing　her　eyes；　she　let　her　sister's　bed　lull　her　into　dreaming。
　Even　during　his　most　despondent　meditations　at　the　Pivot　pit；　Sartori　had　never　felt　the　emptiness　of　his　condition　as　acutely　as　he　did　now　that　he　was　parted　from　his　other。　Meeting　Gentle　in　the　tower　and　witnessing　the　Pivot's　call　to　Reconciliation；　he'd　sensed　new　possibilities　in　the　air：　a　marriage　of　self　and　self　which　would　heal　him　into　wholeness。　But　Gentle　had　poured　contempt　on　that　vision；　preferring　his　mystif　spouse　over　his　brother。　Perhaps　he'd　change　his　mind　now　that　Pie　'oh'　pah　was　dead；　but　Sartori　doubted　it。　If　he　were　Gentle…and　he　was…the　mystifs　death　would　be　obsessed　upon　and　magnified　until　such　time　as　it　could　be　revenged。　The　enmity　between　them　was　confirmed。　There'd　be　no　reunion。
　He　shared　none　of　this　with　Rosengarten；　who　found　him　up　in　the　gazebo；　guzzling　chocolate　and　musing　on　his　anguish。　Nor　did　he　allow　Rosengarten　to　recount　the　disasters　of　the　night　（the　generals　dead；　the　army　murdered　or　mutinied）　for　very　long　without　stopping　him。　They　had　plans　to　lay　together；　he　told　the　piebald　man；　and　it　was　little　use　fretting　over　what　was　lost。
　〃We're　going　to　go　to　the　Fifth；　you　and　I；〃　he　informed　Rosengarten。　〃We're　going　to　build　a　new　Yzordderrex。〃
　It　wasn't　often　he'd　won　a　response　from　the　man；　but　he　got　one　now。　Rosengarten　smiled。
　〃The　Fifth？〃　he　said。
　〃I　knew　it　many　years　ago；　of　course；　but　by　all　accounts　it's　naked　now。　The　Maestros　I　knew　are　dead。　Their　wisdoms　are　dishonored。　The　place　is　defenseless。　We'll　take　them　with　such　sways　they　won't　even　know　they've　given　up　their　Dominion　until　the　New　Yzordderrex　is　in　their　hearts　and　inviolate。〃
　Rosengarten　made　a　murmur　of　approval。
　〃Make　any　farewells　you　have　to　make；〃　Sartori　said。　〃And　I'll　make　mine。〃
　〃We're　going　now？〃
　〃Before　the　fires　are　out；〃　the　Autarch　said。
　It　was　a　strange　sleep　Jude　fell　into；　but　she'd　traveled　in　the　country　of　the　unconscious　often　enough　to　feel　unintimidated　there。　This　time　she　didn't　mpve　from　the　room　in　which　she　lay　but　luxuriated　in　its　excesses；　rising　and　falling　like　the　veils　around　the　bed；　and　on　the　same　smoky　breeze。　Once　in　a　while　she　heard　some　sound　from　the　courtyards　far　below　and　allowed　her　eyes　to　flutter　open　for　the　sheer　lazy　pleasure　of　closing　them　again；　and　once　she　was　woken　by　the　sound　of　Concupiscentia's　reedy　voice　as　she　sang　in　a　distant　room。　Though　the　words　were　inprehensible；　Jude　knew　it　was　a　lament；　full　of　yearning　for　things　that　had　passed　and　could　never　be　again；　and　she　slipped　back　into　sleep　with　the　thought　that　sad　songs　were　the　same　in　any　language；　whether　Gaelic；　Navaho；　or　Patashoquan。　Like　the　glyph　of　her　body；　this　melody　was　essential；　a　sign　that　could　pass　between　Dominions。
　The　music　and　the　scent　she　lay　upon　were　potent　narcotics；　and　after　a　few　melancholy　verses　of　Concupiscentia's　song　she　was　no　longer　sure　whether　she　was　asleep；　and　hearing　the　lament　in　her　dreams；　or　awake；　but　freed　by　Quaisoir's　perfumes　and　wafted　up　into　the　folds　of　silks　above　her　bed　like　a　dreamer。　Whichever　it　was；　she　scarcely　cared。　The　sensations　were　pleasurable；　and　she'd　had　too　little　pleasure　of　late。
　Then　came　proof　that　this　was　indeed　a　dream。　A　doleful　phantom　appeared　at　the　door　and　stood　watching　her　through　the　veils。　She　knew　him　even　before　he　drew　close　to　the　bed。　This　was　not　a　face　she'd　thought　of　much　hi　recent　times；　so　it　was　somewhat　strange　that　she'd　conjured　him；　but　conjure　him　she　had；　and　there　was　no　denying　the　erotic　charge　she　felt　at　his　dreamed　presence。　It　was　Gentle；　perfectly　remembered；　his　expression　troubled　the　way　it　so　often　was；　his　hands　stroking　the　veils　as　though　they　were　her　legs　and　could　be　parted　with　caresses；
　〃I　didn't　think　you'd　be　here；〃　he　said　to　her。　His　voice　was　raw；　and　his　expression　as　full　of　loss　as　Concupis…centia's　song。　〃When　did　you　e　back？〃
　〃A　little　while　ago。〃
　〃You　smell　so　sweet。〃
　〃I　bathed。〃
　〃Looking　at　you　tike　this　。。。　it　makes　me　wish　I　could　take　you　with　me。〃
　〃Where　are　you　going？〃
　〃Back　to　the　Fifth；〃　he　said。　〃I've　e　to　say　goodbye。〃
　〃From　such　a　distance？〃　she　said。
　His　face　broke　into　an　immoderate　smile；　and　she　remembered；　seeing　it；　how　easy　seduction　had　always　been　for　him：　how　women　had　slid　then…　wedding　rings　off　and　their　knickers　down　when　he　shone　this　way。　But　why　be　churlish？　This　was　an　erotic　whimsy；　not　a　trial。　She　dreamed　that　he　saw　the　accusation　in　her　eyes；　however；　and　was　begging　her　forgiveness。
　〃I　know　I've　done　you　harm；〃　he　said。
　〃That's　in　the　past；〃　she　replied　magnanimously。
　〃Looking　at　you　now。。。〃
　〃Don't　be　sentimental；〃　she　said。　〃I　don't　want　sentiment。　I　want　you　here。〃
　Opening　her　legs；　she　let　him　see　the　niche　she　had　for　him。　He　didn't　hesitate　any　longer；　but　pulled　the　veil　aside　and　climbed　onto　the　bed；　wrenching　the　robe　from　her　shoulders　as　he　put　his　mouth　against　hers。　For　some　reason；　she'd　conjured　him　tasting　of　chocolate。　Another　oddity；　but　not　one　that　spoiled　his　kisses。
　She　tugged　at　his　clothes；　but　they　were　a　dream　invention：　the　dark　blue　fabric　of　his　shirt；　its　laces　and　buttons　in　fetishistic　profusion；　covered　in　tiny　scales；　as　though　a　family　of　lizards　had　shed　their　skins　to　clothe　him。
　She　was　tender　from　the　bath；　and　when　he　let　his　weight　descend　on　her；　and　began　to　work　his　body　against　hers；　the　scales　pricked　her　stomach　and　breasts　hi　the　most　arousing　way。　She　wrapped　her　legs　around　him；　and　he　acceded　to　her　capture；　his　kisses　being　fiercer　by　the　moment。
　〃The　things　we've　done；〃　he　murmured　as　she　kissed　his　face。　〃The　things　we've　done。。。。〃
　Her　heart　made　her　mind　nimble；　it　leapt　from　memory　to　memory；　back　to　the　book　she'd　found　in　Estabrook's　flat　all　those　months　before…one　of　Oscar's　gifts　from　the　Dominions…a　manual　of　sexual　possibilities　that　had　shocked　her　at　the　time。　Images　of　its　couplings　appeared　in　her　head　now：　intimacies　that　were　perhaps　only　possible　in　the　profligacy　of　sleep；　unknitting　both　male　and　female　and　weaving　them　together　aga