cb.imajica2-第12章

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　sleep；　unknitting　both　male　and　female　and　weaving　them　together　again　in　new　and　ecstatic　binations。　She　put　her　mouth　to　her　dream　lover's　ear　and　whispered　to　him　that　she　forbade　him　nothing；　that　she　wanted　them　to　share　the　most　extreme　sensations　they　were　capable　of　inventing。　He　didn't　grin　this　time；　which　pleased　her；　but　raised　himself　up　on　his　hands；　which　were　plunged　into　the　downy　pillows　to　either　side　of　her　head；　and　looked　down　at　her　with　some　of　the　same　sadness　he'd　had　on　his　face　when　he'd　first　arrived。
　〃One　last　time？〃　he　said。
　〃It　doesn't　have　to　be　the　last　time；〃　she　said。　〃I　can　always　dream　you。〃
　〃And　me；　you；〃　he　said　with　the　greatest　fondness　and　courtesy。
　She　reached　down　between　their　bodies　and　slipped　off　his　belt；　then　pulled　his　trousers　open　with　some　violence；　unwilling　to　be　delayed　by　his　buttons。　What　filled　her　hand　was　as　silken　as　the　fabric　hiding　it　was　rough：　still　only　half　engorged；　but　all　the　more　entertaining　for　that。　She　stroked　him。　He　sighed　as　he　bent　his　head　towards　her；　licking　her　tips　and　teeth；　letting　his　chocolate…sweetened　spittle　run　off　his　tongue　into　her　mouth。　She　raised　her　hips　and　moved　the　groove　of　her　sex　against　the　underside　of　his　erection；　wetting　it。　He　started　to　murmur　to　her；　terms　of　endearment；　she　presumed；　though…like　Concupis…centia's　song…they　were　in　no　language　she　understood。　They　sounded　as　sweet　as　his　spittle；　however；　and　lulled　her　like　a　cradle　song；　as　though　to　slip　her　into　a　dream　within　a　dream。　As　her　eyes　closed　she　felt　him　raise　his　hips；　lifting　the　thickness　of　his　sex　from　between　her　labia；　and　with　one　thrust；　hard　enough　to　stab　the　breath　from　her；　he　entered；　dropping　down　on　top　of　her　as　he　did　so。
　The　endearments　ceased；　the　kisses　too。　He　put　one　hand　on　her　brow；　his　fingers　laced　into　her　hair；　and　the　other　at　her　neck；　his　thumb　rubbing　her　windpipe　and　coaxing　sighs　from　it。　She'd　forbidden　him　nothing　and　would　not　rescind　that　invitation　simply　because　his　possession　of　her　was　so　sudden。　Instead；　she　raised　her　legs　and　crossed　them　behind　his　back；　then　started　to　whip　him　on　with　insults。　Was　this　the　most　he　could　give　her；　the　deepest　he　could　go？　He　wasn't　hard　enough；　wasn't　hot　enough。　She　wanted　more。　His　thrusts　speeded　up；　his　thumb　tightening　against　her　throat；　but　not　so　much　it　kept　her　from　drawing　breath　and　expelling　it　again　in　a　fresh　round　of　provocations。
　〃I　could　fuck　you　forever；〃　he　said　to　her；　his　tone　halfway　between　devotion　and　threat。　〃There's　nothing　I　can't　make　you　do。　There's　nothing　I　can't　make　you　say。　I　could　fuck　you　forever。〃
　This　was　not　talk　she　would　have　weled　from　a　flesh…and…blood　lover；　but　in　a　dream　it　was　arousing。　She　let　him　continue　in　the　same　mode；　opening　her　arms　and　legs　beneath　him；　while　he　recited　all　that　he　would　do　to　her；　a　litany　of　ambition　that　matched　the　rhythm　of　his　hips。　The　room　her　dream　had　raised　around　them　split　here　and　there；　and　another　seeped　in　through　the　cracks　to　occupy　the　same　space：　this　one　darker　than　Quaisoir's　veil…draped　chamber　and　lit　by　a　fire　that　blazed　off　to　her　left。　Her　dream　lover　didn't　fade；　however；　he　remained　with　her　and　in　her；　more　frenzied　in　his　thrusts　and　promises　than　ever。　She　saw　him　above　her　as　if　lit　by　the　same　flames　that　warmed　her　nakedness；　his　face　knotted　and　sweaty；　his　index　of　desires　ing　between　clenched　teeth。　She　would　be　his　doll；　his　whore；　his　wife；　his　Goddess；　he　would　fill　every　hole　of　her；　forever　and　ever：　own　her；　worship　her；　turn　her　inside　out　Hearing　this；　she　remembered　the　images　in　Estabrook's　book　again；　and　the　memory　made　her　cells　swell　as　if　each　was　a　tiny　bud　ready　to　burst；　their　petals　pleasure；　their　scent　the　shouts　she　was　making；　rising　off　her　to　draw　fresh　adoration　from　him。　It　came；　cruel　and　exquisite　by　turns。　One　moment　he　wanted　to　be　her　prisoner；　bound　to　her　every　whim；　nourished　on　her　shit　and　the　milk　he'd　win　from　her　breasts　with　suckling。　The　next　she　was　less　than　the　excrement　he'd　hungered　for；　and　he　was　her　only　hope　for　life。　He'd　resurrect　her　with　his　fuck。　He'd　fill　her　with　a　fiery　stream；　till　her　eyes　were　washed　from　her　head　and　she　drowned　in　him。　There　was　more；　but　her　cries　of　pleasure　were　mounting　with　every　moment；　and　she　heard　less　and　less。　Saw　less　too；　closing　her　eyes　against　the　mingled　rooms；　fire…lit　and　veiled；　letting　her　head　fill　with　the　geometries　that　always　attended　pleasure；　forms　like　her　glyph　unraveled　and　reworked。
　And　then；　just　as　she　was　reaching　the　first　of　the　peaks…a　range　of　stratospheric　heights　ahead…she　felt　him　shudder　and　his　thrusts　stop。　She　didn't　believe　he'd　finished；　not　at　first。　This　was　a　dream；　and　she'd　conjured　him　to　perform　the　way　actualities　never　did：　to　go　on　when　lovers　of　flesh　and　blood　had　spilled　their　promises　and　were　panting　their　apologies　beside　her。　He　couldn't　desert　her　now！　She　opened　her　eyes。　The　fire…lit　chamber　had　gone；　and　the　flames　in　Gentle's　eyes　had　gone　with　it。　He　had　already　withdrawn；　and　all　she　felt　between　her　legs　was　his　fingers；　dabbling　in　the　dribble　he'd　supplied。　He　looked　at；her　lazily。
　〃You　almost　tempt　me　to　stay；〃　he　said；　〃But　I've　got　work　to　do。〃
　Work？　What　work　did　dreams　have　besides　the　dreamer's　mandments？
　〃Don't　leave；〃　she　demanded。
　〃I'm　done；〃　he　said。
　He　was　getting　off　the　bed。　She　reached　for　him；　but　even　in　sleep　the　languor　of　the　pillow　was　upon　her；　and　he　was　away　between　the　veils　before　her　fingers　came　close　to　catching　hold。　She　sank　back　in　a　slow　swoon；　watching　his　figure　bee　remoter　as　the　layers　of　gossamer　between　them　multiplied。
　〃Stay　beautiful；〃　he　told　her。　〃Maybe　I'll　e　back　for　you　when　I've　built　the　New　Yzordderrex。〃
　This　made　little　sense　to　her；　but　she　didn't　care。　It　was　her　own　wretched　invention；　and　worthless。　She　let　it　go；　the　figure　seeming　to　halt　at　the　door　as　if　for　one　backward　glance；　then　disappearing　altogether。　Her　mind　had　no　sooner　let　him　slip　than　it　conjured　a　pensation；　however。　The　veils　at　the　bottom　of　the　bed　parted　and　the　many…tailed　Concupiscentia　appeared；　her　eyes　bright　with　craving。　She　didn't　wait　for　any　word　to　pass　between　them　but　crawled　up　onto　the　bed；　her　gaze　fixed　on　Judith's　groin；　her　bluish　tongue　flicking　as　she　approached。　Jude　raised　her　knees。　The　creature　put　her　head　down　and　began　to　lick　out　what　the　dream　lover　had　left；　her　silky　palms　caressing　Jude's　thighs。　The　sensation　soothed　her；　and　she　watched　through　the　slits　of　her　drugged　eyes　as　Concupiscentia　bathed　her　clean。　Before　she'd　finished　the　dream　grew　dimmer；　and　the　creature　was　still　at　its　caressing　work　when　another　veil　descended；　this　so　dense　she　lost　both　sight　and　sensation　in　its　folds。
　
　
　4
　
　Like　galleons　turned　to　the　desert　wind　and　in　full　sail　before　it；　the　tents　of　the　Dearthers　presented　a　pretty　spectacle　from　a　distance；　but　Gentle's　admiration　turned　to　awe　as　the　car　drew　closer　and　their　scale　became　apparent。　They　were　the　height　of　five…story　houses　and　more；　billowing　towers　of　ocher　and　scarlet　fabric；　the　colors　all　the　more　vivid　given　that　the　desert　floor；　which　had　been　sand…colored　at　the　outset；　was　now　almost　black；　and　the　heavens　they　rose　against　were　gray；　being　the　wall　between　the
　Second　Dominion　and　the　unknown　world　haunted　by　Hapexamendios。
　Floccus　halted　the　car　a　quarter　of　a　mile　from　the　perimeter　of　the　encampment。　〃I　should　go　ahead；〃　he　said；　〃and　explain　who　we　are　and　what　we're　doing　here。〃
　〃Make　it　quick；〃　Gentle　told　him。
　Floccus　was　away　like　a　gazelle；　over　ground　that　was　no　longer　sand　but　a　flinty　carpet　of　stone　shards；　like　the　clippings　from　some　stupendous　sculpture。　Gentle　looked　at　the　mystif；　lying　in　his　arms　as　if　in　a　charmed　sleep；　its　brow　innocent　of　frowns。　He　stroked　its　cold　cheek。
　How　many　friends　and　loved　ones　must　he　have　seen　pass　away　in　the　two　centuries　and　more　of　his　life　on　earth？　Though　he'd　wiped　those　griefs　from　his　conscious　mind；　could　he　doubt　they'd　made　their　mark；　fueling　his　terror　of　sickness　and　hardening　his　heart　over　the　years？　Perhaps　he'd　always　been　a　philanderer　and　plagiarist；　a　master　of　counterfeited　emotion；　but　was　that　so　surprising　in　a　man　who　knew　in　his　gut　that　the　drama；　however　soul…searing；　was　cyclic？　The　faces　changed　and　changed；　but　the　story　remained　essentially　the　same。　As　Klein　had　been　fond　of　pointing　out；　there　was　no　such　thing　as　originality。　It　had　all　been　said　before；　suffered　before。　If　a　man　knew　that；　was　it　any　wonder　love　became　mechanical　and　death　just　a　scene　to　be　shunned？　There　was　no　absolute　knowledge　to　be　gained　from　either。　Just　another　ride　on　the　merry…go…round；　another　blurred　scene　of　faces　smiling　and　faces　grieved。
　But　his　feelings　for　the　mystif　had　been　no　sham；　and　with　good　reason。　In　Pie's　self…denials　（〃I'm　nothing　and　nobody；〃　it　had　said　at　the　beginning）　he'd　heard　an　echo　of　the　anguish　he　himself　felt；　and　in　Pie's　gaze；　so　heavy　with　the　freight　of　years；　seen　a　r'ade　soul　who　understood　the　nameless　pain　he　carried。　It　had　stripped　him　of　his　shams　and　chicanery　and　given　him　a　taste　of　the　Maestro　he'd　been　and　might　be　again。　There　was　good　to　be　done　with　such　power；　he　now　knew：　breaches　to　be　healed；　rights　to　be　restored；　nations　to　be　roused；　and　hopes　reawakened。　He　needed　his　inspiration　beside　him　if　he　was　to　be　a　great　Reconciler。
　〃I　love　you；　Pie　'oh'　pah；〃　he　murmured。
　〃Gentle。〃
　The　voice　was　Floccus'；　calling　him　from　outside　the　window。
　〃I've　seen　Athanasius。　He　says　we're　to　e　straight　in。〃
　〃Good！　Good！〃　Gentle　threw　open　the　door。
　〃Do　you　want　help？〃
　〃No。　I'll　carry　Pie。〃　He　got　out；　then　reached　back　into　the　car　and　picked　up　the　mystif。
　〃Gentle；　you　do　understand　that　this　is　a　sacred　place？〃　Floccus　said　as　he　led　the　way　towards　the　tents。
　〃No　singing；　dancing；　or　farting；　huh？　Don't　look　so　pained；　Floccus。　I　understand。〃
　As　they　approached；　Gentle　realized　that　what　he'd　taken　to　be　an　encampment　of　closely　gathered　tents　was　in　fact　a　continuum；　the　various　pavilions；　with　their　swooping　roofs；　joined　by　smaller　tents　to　form　a　single　golden　beast　of　wind　and　canvas。
　Inside　its　body；　the　gusts　kept　everything　in　motion。　Tremors　moved　through　even　the　most　tautly　erected　walls；　and　in　the　heights　of　the　roof　swaths　of　fabric　whirled　like　the　skirts　of　dervishes；　giving　off　a　constant　sigh。　There　were　people　up　among　the　folds；　some　walking　on　webs　of　rope　as　if　they　were　solid　board；　others　sitting　in　front　of　immense　windows　opened　in　the　roof；　their　faces　turned　to　the　wall　of　the　First　World　as　though　they　anticipated　a　summons　out　of　that　place　at　any　moment。　If　such　a　summons　came；　there'd　be　no　hectic　rush。　The　atmosphere　was　as　measured　and　soothing　as　the　motion　of　the　dancing　sails　above。
　〃Where　do　we　find　the　doctor？〃　Gentle　asked　Floccus。　〃There　is　no　doctor；〃　he　replied。　〃Follow　me。　We've　been　given　a　place　to　lay　the　mystif　down。〃
　〃There　must　be　some　kind　of　medical　attendants。〃　〃There's　fresh　water　and　clothes。　Maybe　some　laudanum　and　the　like。　But　Pie's　beyond　that。　The　uredo　won't　be　dislodged　with　medications。　It's　the　proximity　of　the　Firs