cb.imajica1-第49章

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g　their　weapons。　His　belief　that　they　wouldn't　attempt　to　kill　him　among　witnesses　suddenly　seemed　frail。　Perhaps　the　law　of　Vanaeph　was　good　to　the　very　gates　of　Patashoqua。　If　so；　he　was　dead。　They　would　overtake　him　long　before　he　reached　sanctuary。
　But　now；　above　the　din　of　the　highway；　another　sound　reached　him；　and　he　dared　a　glance　off　to　his　left；　to　see　a　small；　plain　vehicle；　its　engine　badly　tuned；　careering　in　his　direction。　It　was　open…topped；　its　driver　visible：　Pie　'oh'　pah；　God　love　him；　driving　like　a　man…or　mystif…possessed。　Gentle　changed　direction　instantly；　veering　off　the　road　and　dividing　a　herd　of　pilgrims　as　he　did　so；　and　raced　towards　Pie's　noisy　chariot。
　A　chorus　of　whoops　at　his　back　told　him　the　pursuers　had　also　changed　direction；　but　the　sight　of　Pie　had　given　heat　to　Gentle's　heels。　His　turn　of　speed　was　wasted；　however。　Rather　than　slowing　to　let　Gentle　aboard；　Pie　drove　on　past；　heading　towards　the　hunters。　The　leaders　scattered　as　the　vehicle　bore　down　upon　them；　but　it　was　a　figure　Gentle　had　missed；　being　carried　in　a　sedan　chair；　who　was　Pie's　true　target。　Hammeryock；　sitting　on　high；　ready　to　watch　the　execution；　was　suddenly　a　target　in　his　turn。　He　yelled　to　his　bearers　to　retreat；　but　in　their　panic　they　failed　to　agree　on　a　direction。　Two　pulled　left；　two　right。　One　of　the　chair's　arms　splintered；　and　Hammeryock　was　pitched　out；　hitting　the　ground　hard。　He　didn't　get　up。　The　sedan　chair　was　discarded；　and　its　bearers　fled；　leaving　Pie　to　veer　around　and　head　back　towards　Gentle。　With　their　leader　felled；　the　scattered　pursuers；　most　likely　coerced　into　serving　the　Pontiffs　in　the　first　place；　had　lost　heart。　They　were　not　sufficiently　inspired　to　risk　Hammeryock's　fate　and　so　kept　their　distance；　while　Pie　drove　back　and　picked　up　his　gasping　passenger。
　〃I　thought　maybe　you'd　gone　back　to　Tick　Raw；〃　Gentle　said；　once　he　was　aboard。
　〃He　wouldn't　have　wanted　me；〃　Pie　said。　〃I've　had　congress　with　a　murderer。〃
　〃Who's　that？〃
　〃You；　my　friend；　you！　We're　both　assassins　now。〃
　〃I　suppose　we　are。〃
　〃And　not　much　wele　in　this　region；　I　think。〃
　〃Where　did　you　find　the　vehicle？〃
　〃There's　a　few　of　them　parked　on　the　outskirts。　They'll　be　in　them　soon　enough；　and　after　us。〃
　〃The　sooner　we're　in　the　city　the　better；　then。〃
　〃I　don't　think　we'd　be　safe　there　for　long；〃　the　mystif　replied。
　It　had　maneuvered　the　vehicle　so　that　its　snub　nose　faced　the　highway。　The　choice　lay　before　them。　Left；　to　the　gates　of　Patashoqua。　Right；　down　a　highway　which　ran　on　past　the　Mount　of　Lipper　Bayak　to　a　horizon　that　rose；　at　the　farthest　limit　of　the　eye；　to　a　mountain　range。
　〃It's　up　to　you；〃　Pie　said。
　Gentle　looked　longingly　towards　the　city；　tempted　by　its　spires。　But　he　knew　there　was　wisdom　in　Pie's　advice。
　〃We'll　e　back　someday；　won't　we？〃　he　said。
　〃Certainly；　if　that's　what　you　want。〃
　〃Then　let's　head　the　other　way。〃
　The　mystif　turned　the　vehicle　onto　the　highway；　against　the　predominant　flow　of　traffic；　and　with　the　city　behind　them　they　soon　picked　up　speed。
　〃So　much　for　Patashoqua；〃　Gentle　said　as　the　walls　became　a　mirage。
　〃No　great　loss；〃　Pie　remarked。
　〃But　I　wanted　to　see　the　Merrow　Ti'　TV；〃　Gentle　said。
　〃No　chance；〃　Pie　returned。
　〃Why？〃
　〃It　was　pure　invention；〃　Pie　said。　〃Like　all　my　favorite　things；　including　myself。　Pure　invention！〃
　
　
　19
　
　Though　Jude　had　made　an　oath；　in　all　sobriety；　to　follow　Gentle　wherever　she'd　seen　him　go；　her　plans　for　pursuit　were　stymied　by　a　number　of　claims　upon　her　energies；　the　most　pressing　of　which　was　Clem's。　He　needed　her　advice；　fort；　and　organizational　skills　in　the　dreary；　rainy　days　that　followed　New　Year；　and　despite　the　urgency　of　her　agenda　she　could　scarcely　turn　her　back　on　him。　Taylor's　funeral　took　place　on　January　ninth；　with　a　memorial　service　which　Clem　took　great　pains　to　perfect。　It　was　a　melancholy　triumph：　a　time　for　Taylor's　friends　and　relations　to　mingle　and　express　their　affections　for　the　departed　man。　Jude　met　people　she'd　not　seen　in　many　years；　and　few；　if　any；　failed　to　ment　on　the　one　conspicuous　absentee：　Gentle。　She　told　everybody　what　she'd　told　Clem。　That　Gentle　had　been　going　through　a　bad　time；　and　the　last　she'd　heard　he　was　planning　to　leave　on　holiday。　Clem；　of　course；　would　not　be　fobbed　off　with　such　vague　excuses。　Gentle　had　left　knowing　that　Taylor　was　dead；　and　Clem　viewed　his　departure　as　a　kind　of　cowardice。　Jude　didn't　attempt　to　defend　the　wanderer。　She　simply　tried　to　make　as　little　mention　of　Gentle　in　Clem's　presence　as　she　could。
　But　the　subject　would　keep　ing　up；　one　way　or　another。　Sorting　through　Taylor's　belongings　after　the　funeral；　Clem　came　upon　three　watercolors；　painted　by　Gentle　in　the　style　of　Samuel　Palmer；　but　signed　with　his　own　name　and　dedicated　to　Taylor。　Pictures　of　idealized　landscapes；　they　couldn't　help　but　turn　Clem's　thoughts　back　to　Taylor's　unrequited　love　for　the　vanished　man；　and　Jude's　to　the　place　he　had　vanished　for。　They　were　among　the　few　items　that　Clem；　perhaps　vengefully；　wanted　to　destroy；　but　Jude　persuaded　him　otherwise。　He　kept　one　in　memory　of　Taylor；　gave　one　to　Klein；　and　gave　the　third　to　Jude。
　Her　duty　to　Clem　not　only　took　its　toll　upon　her　time　but　upon　her　focus。　When；　in　the　middle　of　the　month；　he　suddenly　announced　that　he　was　going　to　leave　the　next　day　for　Tenerife；　there　to　tan　his　troubles　away　for　a　fortnight；　she　was　glad　to　be　released　from　the　daily　duties　of　friend　and　forter　but　found　herself　unable　to　rekindle　the　heat　of　ambition　that　had　flared　in　her　at　the　month's　first　hour。　She　had　one　unlikely　touchstone；　however：　the　dog。　She　only　had　to　look　at　the　mutt　and　she　remembered…as　though　it　were　an　hour　ago…standing　at　the　door　of　Gentle's　flat　and　seeing　the　pair　dissolving　in　front　of　her　astonished　eyes。　And　on　the　heels　of　that　memory　came　thoughts　of　the　news　she　had　been　carrying　to　Gentle　that　night：　the　dream　journey　induced　by　the　stone　that　was　now　wrapped　up　and　hidden　from　sight　and　seeing　in　her　wardrobe。　She　was　not　a　great　lover　of　dogs；　but　she'd　taken　the　mongrel　home　that　night；　knowing　it　would　perish　if　she　didn't。　It　quickly　ingratiated　itself；　wagging　a　furious　wele　when　she　returned　home　each　night　after　being　with　Clem；　sneaking　into　her　bedroom　in　the　early　hours　and　making　a　nest　for　itself　in　her　soiled　clothes。　She　called　it　Skin；　because　it　had　so　little　fur；　and　while　she　didn't　dote　on　it　the　way　it　doted　on　her；　she　was　still　glad　of　its　pany。　More　than　once　she　found　herself　talking　to　it　at　great　length；　while　it　licked　its　paws　or　its　balls；　these　monologues　a　means　to　refocus　her　thoughts　without　worrying　that　she　was　losing　her　mind。　Three　days　after　Clem's　departure　for　sunnier　climes；　discussing　with　Skin　how　she　should　best　proceed；　Estabrook's　name　came　up。
　〃You　haven't　met　Estabrook；〃　she　told　Skin。　〃But　I'll　guarantee　you　won't　like　him。　He　tried　to　have　me　killed；　you　know？〃
　The　dog　looked　up　from　its　toilet。
　〃Yes；　I　was　amazed　too；〃　she　said；　〃I　mean；　that's　worse　than　an　animal；　right？　No　disrespect；　but　it　is。　I　was　his　wife。　I　am　his　wife。　And　he　tried　to　have　me　killed。　What　would　you　do；　if　you　were　me？　Yes；　I　know；　I　should　see　him。　He　had　the　blue　eye　in　his　safe。　And　that　book！　Remind　me　to　tell　you　about　the　book　sometime。　No；　maybe　I　shouldn't。　It'll　give　you　ideas。〃
　Skin　settled　his　head　on　his　crossed　paws；　gave　a　small　sigh　of　contentment；　and　started　to　doze。
　〃You're　a　big　help；〃　she　said。　〃I　need　some　advice　here。　What　do　you　say　to　a　man　who　tried　to　have　you　murdered？〃
　Skin's　eyes　were　closed；　so　she　was　obliged　to　furnish　her　own　reply。
　〃I　say：　Hello；　Charlie；　why　don't　you　tell　me　the　story　of　your　life？〃
　She　called　Lewis　Leader　the　next　day　to　find　out　whether　Estabrook　was　still　hospitalized。　She　was　told　he　was；　but　that　he'd　been　moved　to　a　private　clinic　in　Hampstead。　Leader　supplied　details　of　his　whereabouts；　and　Jude　called　to　inquire　both　about　Estabrook's　condition　and　visiting　hours。　She　was　told　he　was　still　under　close　scrutiny　but　seemed　to　be　in　better　spirits　than　he'd　been；　and　she　was　wele　to　e　and　see　him　at　any　time。　There　seemed　little　purpose　in　delaying　the　me