cb.imajica2-第6章

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　The　Autarch　opened　his　eyes；　angered　to　find　the　hallucination　still　hanging　around。　〃I　told　you…〃　he　said。
　〃What　is　this　kreauchee？　Some　kind　of　alcohol？　Dope？　Do　you　think　I'm　a　bad　trip？　Well；　I'm　not。〃
　He　started　towards　the　other；　who　retreated　in　alarm。
　〃Go　on；〃　Gentle　said；　extending　his　hand。　〃Touch　me。　I'm　real。　I'm　here。　My　name's　John　Zacharias；　and　I've　e　a　long　way　to　see　you。　I　didn't　think　that　was　the　reason；　but　now　I'm　here；　I'm　sure　it　was。〃
　The　Autarch　raised　his　fists　to　his　temples；　as　if　to　beat　this　drug　dream　from　his　brain。
　〃This　isn't　possible；〃　he　said。　There　was　more　than　disbelief　in　his　voice；　there　was　an　unease　that　was　close　to　fear。　〃You　can't　be　here。　Not　after　all　these　years。〃
　〃Well；　I　am；〃　said　Gentle。　〃I'm　as　confused　as　you；　believe　me。　But　I'm　here。〃
　The　Autarch　studied　him；　turning　his　head　this　way　and　that；　as　though　he　still　expected　to　find　some　angle　from　which　to　view　the　visitor　that　would　reveal　him　as　an　apparition。　But　after　a　minute　of　such　study　he　gave　it　up　and　simply　stared　at　Gentle；　his　face　a　maze　of　furrows。
　〃Where　did　you　e　from？〃　he　said　slowly。
　〃I　think　you　know；〃　Gentle　replied。
　〃The　Fifth？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃You　came　to　bring　me　down；　didn't　you？　Why　didn't　I　see　it？　You　started　this　revolution！　You　were　out　in　the　streets；　sowing　the　seeds！　No　wonder　I　couldn't　root　the　rebels　out。　I　kept　wondering：　Who　is　it？　Who's　out　there；　plotting　against　me？　Execution　after　execution；　purge　after　purge；　and　I　never　got　to　the　one　at　the　heart　of　it。　The　one　who　was　as　clever　as　me。　The　nights　I　lay　awake　thinking：　Who　is　it？　Who？　I　made　a　list　as　long　as　my　arm。　But　never　you；　Maestro。　Never　Sartori。〃
　Hearing　the　Autarch　name　himself　was　shocking　enough；　but　this　second　naming　bred　utter　rebellion　in　Gentle's　system。　His　head　filled　with　the　same　din　that　had　beset　him　on　the　platform　at　Maike；　and　his　belly　disgorged　its　contents　in　one　bilious　heave。　He　put　his　hand　out　to　the　table　to　steady　himself　and　missed　the　edge；　slipping　to　the　floor　where　his　vomit　was　already　spattered。　Floundering　in　his　own　mess；　he　tried　to　shake　the　noise　from　his　head；　but　all　he　did　was　unknot　the　confusion　of　sounds　and　let　the　words　they　concealed　slip　through。
　Sartori！　He　was　Sartori！　He　didn't　waste　breath　questioning　the　name。　It　was　his；　and　he　knew　it。　And　what　worlds　there　were　in　that　naming：　more　confounding　than　anything　the　Dominions　had　unveiled；　opening　before　him　like　windows　blown　wide　and　shattered；　never　to　be　closed　again。
　He　heard　the　name　spoken　out　of　a　hundred　memories。　A　woman　sighed　it　as　she　begged　him　back　into　her　disheveled　bed。　A　priest　beat　out　the　syllables　on　his　pulpit；　prophesying　damnation。　A　gambler　blew　it　into　his　cupped　hands　to　bless　his　dice。　Condemned　men　made　prayers　of　it；　drunkards；　mockery；　carousers；　songs。
　Oh；　but　he'd　been　famous！　At　St。　Bartholomew　Fair　there'd　been　troupes　who'd　filled　their　purses；　telling　his　life　as　farce。　A　bordello　in　Bloomsbury　had　boasted　a　sometime　nun　driven　to　nymphomania　by　his　touch；　who　would　chant　his　conjurations　（so　she　said）　as　she　was　fucked。　He　was　a　paradigm　of　all　things　fabulous　and　forbidden：　a　threat　to　reasoning　men；　to　their　wives；　a　secret　vice。　And　to　the　children…the　children；　trailing　past　his　house　after　the　beadle…he　was　a　rhyme：
　Maestro　Sartori
　Wants　a　bit　o'glory。
　He　loves　the　cats；
　He　loves　the　dogs；
　He　turns　the　ladies　into　frogs；
　He　made　some　hats
　Of　baby　rats；
　But　that's　another　story。
　This　chant；　repeated　in　his　head　in　the　piping　voices　of　parish　orphans；　was　worse　in　its　way　than　the　pulpit　curses；　or　the　sobs；　or　the　prayers。　It　rolled　on　and　on；　in　its　fatuous　way；　gathering　neither　meaning　nor　music　as　it　went。　Like　his　life；　without　this　name：　motion　without　purpose。
　〃Had　you　forgotten？〃　the　Autarch　asked　him。
　〃Oh；　yes；〃　Gentle　replied；　unbidden　and　bitter　laughter　ing　to　his　lips　with　the　reply。　〃I'd　forgotten。〃
　Even　now；　with　the　voices　rebaptizing　him　with　their　clamor；　he　could　scarcely　believe　it。　Had　this　body　of　his　survived　two　hundred　years　and　more　in　the　Fifth　Dominion；　while　his　mind　went　on　deceiving　itself：　holding　only　a　decade　of　life　in　its　consciousness　and　hiding　the　rest　away？　Where　had　he　lived　all　those　years？　Who　had　he　been？　If　what　he'd　just　heard　was　true；　this　act　of　remembering　was　just　the　first。　There　were　two　centuries　of　memories　concealed　in　his　brain　somewhere；　waiting　to　be　discovered。　No　wonder　Pie　had　kept　him　in　ignorance。　Now　that　he　knew；　madness　was　very　close。
　He　got　to　his　feet；　holding　on　to　the　table　for　support。　〃Is　Pie　'oh'　pah　here？〃　he　said。
　〃The　mystif？　No。　Why？　Did　it　e　with　you　from　the　Fifth？〃
　〃Yes；　it　did。〃
　A　twitch　of　a　smile　returned　to　the　Autarch's　face。　〃Aren't　they　exquisite　creatures？〃　he　said。　〃I've　had　one　or　two　myself。　They're　an　acquired　taste；　but　once　you've　got　it　you　never　really　lose　it　again。　But　no；　I　haven't　seen　it。〃
　〃Judith；　then？〃
　〃Ah。〃　He　sighed。　〃Judith。　I　assume　you　mean　Godolphin's　lady？　She　went　by　a　lot　of　names；　didn't　she？　Mind　you；　we　all　did。　What　do　they　call　you　these　days？〃
　〃I　told　you。　John　Furie　Zacharias。　Or　Gentle。〃
　〃I　have　a　few　friends　who　know　me　as　Sartori。　I'd　like　to　number　you　among　them。　Or　do　you　want　the　name　back？〃
　〃Gentle　will　do。　We　were　talking　about　Judith。　I　saw　her　this　morning；　down　by　the　harbor。〃
　〃Did　you　see　Christ　down　there？〃
　〃What　are　you　talking　about？〃
　〃She　came　back　here　saying　she'd　seen　the　Man　of　Sorrows。　She　had　the　fear　of　the　Lord　in　her。　Crazy　bitch。〃　He　sighed。　〃It　was　sad；　really；　to　see　her　that　way。　I　thought　it　was　just　too　much　kreauchee　at　first；　but　no。　She'd　finally　lost　her　mind。　It　was　running　out　of　her　ears。〃
　〃Who　are　we　talking　about？〃　Gentle　said；　thinking　one　or　the　other　of　them　had　mislaid　the　path　of　the　conversation。
　〃I'm　talking　about　Quaisoir；　my　wife。　She　came　with　me　from　the　Fifth。〃
　〃I　was　talking　about　Judith。〃
　〃So　was　I。〃
　〃Are　you　saying…〃
　〃There　are　two。　You　made　one　of　them　yourself；　for　God's　sake；　or　have　you　forgotten　that　too？〃
　〃Yes。　Yes；　I'd　forgotten。〃
　〃She　was　beautiful；　but　she　wasn't　worth　losing　the　Imajica　for。　That　was　your　big　mistake。　You　should　have　served　your　hand　and　not　your　rod。　Then　I'd　never　have　been　born；　and　God　would　be　in　His　heaven；　and　you'd　be　Pope　Sartori。　Ha！　Is　that　why　you　came　back？　To　bee　pope？　It's　too　late；　brother。　By　tomorrow　morning　Yzordderrex　will　be　a　heap　of　smoking　ash。　This　is　my　last　night　here。　I'm　going　to　the　Fifth。　I'm　going　to　build　a　new　empire　there。〃
　〃Why？〃
　〃Don't　you　remember　the　rhyme　they　used　to　sing？　For　glory's　sake。〃
　〃Haven't　you　had　enough　of　that？〃
　〃You　tell　me。　Whatever's　in　my　heart　was　plucked　from　yours。　Don't　tell　me　you　haven't　dreamed　of　power。　You　were　the　greatest　Maestro　in　Europe。　There　was　nobody　could　touch　you。　That　didn't　all　evaporate　overnight。〃
　He　moved　towards　Gentle　for　the　first　time　in　this　exchange；　reaching　out　to　lay　his　steady　hand　on　Gentle's　shoulder。
　〃I　think　you　should　see　the　Pivot；　brother　Gentle；〃　he　said。　〃That'll　remind　you　of　what　power　feels　like。　Are　you　steady　on　your　feet？〃　〃Reasonably。〃　〃e　on；　then。〃
　He　led　the　way　back　into　the　passage；　to　the　flight　of　stairs　Gentle　had　declined　to　take。　Now　he　did　so；　following　Sartori　around　the　curve　of　the　staircase　to　a　door　without　a　handle。
　〃The　only　eyes　laid　on　the　Pivot　since　the　tower　was　built　are　mine；〃　he　said。　〃Which　has　made　it　very　sensitive　to　scrutiny。〃
　〃My　eyes　are　yours；'1　Gentle　reminded　him。　〃It'll　know　the　difference；〃　Sartori　replied。　〃It'll　want　to　。　。　。　probe　you。〃　The　sexual　subtext　of　this　wasn't　lost　on　him。　〃You'll　just　have　to　He　back　and　think　of　England；〃　he　said。　〃It's　over　quickly。〃
　So　saying　he　licked　his　thumb　and　laid　it　on　the　rectangle　of　slate…colored　stone　set　in　the　middle　of　the　door；　inscribing　a　figure　in　spittle　upon　it。　The　door　responded　to　the　signal。　Its　locks　began　to　grind　into　motion。
　〃Spit　too；　huh？〃　Gentle　said。　〃I　thought　it　was　just　breath。〃
　〃You　use　pneuma？〃　Sartori　said。　〃Then　I　should　be　able　to。　But　I　haven't　got　the　trick　of　it。　You'll　have　to　teach　me；　and　I'll。。。　remind　you　of　a　few　sways　in　return。〃　〃I　don't　understand　the　mechanics　of　it。〃　〃Then　we'll　learn　together；〃　Sartori　replied。　〃The　principles　are　simple　enough。　Matter　and　mind；　mind　and　matter。　Each　transforming　the　other。　Maybe　that's　what　we're　going　to　do。　Transform　one　another。〃
　With　that　thought；　Sartori　put　his　palm　on　the　door　and　pushed　it　open。　Though　it　was　fully　six　inches　thick　it　moved　without　a　sound；　and　with　an　extended　hand　Sartori　invited　Gentle　to　enter；　speaking　as　he　did　so。
　〃It's　said　that　Hapexamendios　set　the　Pivot　in　the　middle　of　the　Imajica　so　that　His　fertility　would　flow　from　it　into　every　Dominion。〃　He　lowered　his　voice；　as　if　for　an　indiscretion。　〃In　other　words；〃　he　said。　〃This　is　the　phallus　of　the　Unbeheld。〃
　Gentle　had　seen　this　tower　from　the　outside；　of　course；　it　soared　above　every　other　pylon　and　dome　in　the　palace。　But　he　hadn't　grasped　its　enormity　until　now。　It　was　a　square　stone　tower；　seventy　or　eighty　feet　from　side　to　side　and　so　tall　that　the　lights　blazing　in　the　walls　to　illuminate　its　sole　occupant　receded　like　cat's　eyes　in　a　highway　till　sheer　distance　dimmed　then　erased　them。　An　extraordinary　sight：　but　nothing　beside　the　monolith　around　which　the　tower　had　been　constructed。　Gentle　had　been　steeling　himself　for　an　assault　when　the　door　was　opened：　the　tone　he'd　heard　in　his　skull　as　he'd　crept　along　the　passage　below　rattling　his　teeth；　the　charge　burning　in　his　fingers。　But　there　was　nothing；　not　even　a　murmur；　which　was　in　its　way　more　distressing。　The　Pivot　knew　he　was　here　in　its　chamber　but　was　keeping　its　counsel；　silently　assessing　him　as　he　assessed　it。
　There　were　several　shocks。　The　first；　and　the　least；　how　beautiful　it　was；　its　sides　the　color　of　thunderclouds；　hewn　so　that　seams　of　brightness　flowed　in　them　like　hidden　lightning。　The　second；　that　it　was　not　set　on　the　ground　but　hovered；　in　all　its　enormity；　ten　feet　from　the　floor　of　the　tower；　casting　a　shadow　so　dense　that　the　dark　air　was　almost　a　plinth。
　〃Impressive；　huh？〃　Sartori　remarked；　his　cocky　tone　as　inappropriate　as　laughter　at　an　altar。　〃You　can　walk　underneath　it。　Go　on。　It's　quite　safe。〃
　Gentle　was　reluctant；　but　he　was　all　too　aware　that　his　other　was　watching　for　his　weaknesses；　and　any　sign　of　fear　now　might　be　used　against　him　later。　Sartori　had　already　seen　him　sickened　and　down　on　his　knees；　he　didn't　want　the　bastard　to　get　another　glimpse　of　frailty。
　〃Aren't　you　ing　with　me？〃　he　said；　glancing　around　at　the　Autarch。
　〃It's　a　very　private　moment；〃　the　other　replied；　and　stood　back　to　let　Gentle　venture　into　the　shadow。
　It　was　like　stepping　back　into　the　wastes　of　the　Jokalaylau。　Cold　cut　him　to　the　marrow。　His　breath　was　snatched　from　his　lungs　and　appeared　before　him　in　a　bitter　cloud。　Gasping；　he　turned　his　face　to　the　power　above　him；　his　mind　divided　between　the　rational　urge　to　study　the　phenomenon　and　the　barely　controllable　desire　to　drop　to　his　knees　and　beg　it　not　to　crush　him。　The　heaven　above　him　had　five　sides；　he　saw。　One　for　each　D