cb.imajica1-第82章
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s back as they coupled。 Let the darkness be a night that concealed their excesses； and the pyre blaze like their mutual consumption。 He could feel the trick working as he thought this through。 Why should death be so unerotic？ If they blistered or rotted together； mightn't their dissolution show them new ways to love； uncovering them layer by layer and joining their moistures and their marrows until they were utterly mingled？
He'd proposed marriage to Pie and been accepted。 The creature was his to have and hold； to make over and over； in the image of his fondness and most forbidden desires。 He did so now。 He saw the creature naked and astride him； changing even as he touched it； throwing off skins like clothes。 Jude was one of those skins； and Vanessa another； and Martine another still。 They were all riding him high： the beauty of the world impaled on his prick。
Lost in this fantasy； he wasn't even aware that the prayers had stopped until the bier was halted once again。 There were whispers all around him； and in the middle of the whispers soft and astonished laughter。 The shroud was snatched away； and his beloved was looking down at him； grinning through features blurred by tears and Gentle's influence。
〃He's alive！ Jesu； he's alive！〃 There were doubting voices raised； but the mystif laughed them down。
〃I feel him in me！〃 it said。 〃I swear it！ He's still with us。 Put him down！ Put him down！〃
The pallbearers did as they were instructed； and Gentle had his first glimpse of the strangers who'd almost bade him farewell。 Not a happy bunch； even now。 They stared down at the body； still disbelieving。 But the danger was over； at least for the time being。 The mystif leaned over Gentle and kissed his lips。 Its face was fixed once more； its features exquisite in their joy。
〃I love you；〃 it murmured to Gentle。 〃I'll love you until the death of love。〃
Alive he was； but not healed。 He was moved to a small room of gray brick and laid on a bed only marginally more fortable than the boards they'd laid him on as a corpse。 There was a window； but being unable to move he had to rely upon Pie 'oh' pah to lift him up and show him the view through it； which was scarcely more interesting than the walls； being simply an expanse of sea…solid once again… under a cloudy sky。
〃The sea only changes when the suns e out；〃 Pie explained。 〃Which isn't very often。 We were unlucky。 But everyone is amazed that you survived。 Nobody who fell into the Cradle ever came out alive before。〃
That he was something of a curiosity was evidenced by the number of visitors he had； both guards and prisoners。 The regime seemed to be fairly relaxed； from what little he could judge。 There were bars on the windows； and the door was unbolted and bolted up again when anybody came or went； but the officers； particularly the Oethac who ran the asylum； named Vigor N'ashap； and his number two…a military peacock named Aping； whose buttons and boots shone a good deal more brightly than his eyes； and whose features drooped on his head as though sodden…were polite enough。
〃They get no news out here；〃 Pie explained。 〃They just get sent prisoners to look after。 N'ashap knows there was a plot against the Autarch； but I don't believe he knows whether it's been successful or not。 They've quizzed me for hours； but they haven't really asked about us。 I just told them we were friends of Scopique's； and we'd heard he'd lost his sanity； so we came to visit him。 All innocence； in other words。 And they seemed to swallow it。 But they get supplies of food； magazines； and newspapers every eight or nine days…always out of date； Aping says…so our luck may not hold out too long。 Meanwhile I'm doing what I can to keep them both happy。 They get very lonely。〃
The significance of this last remark wasn't lost on Gentle； but all he could do was listen and hope his healing wouldn't take too long。 There was some easing in his muscles； allowing him to open and close his eyes； swallow； and even move his hands a little； but his torso was still pletely rigid。
His other regular visitor； and by far the most entertaining of those who came to gawk； was Scopique； who had an opinion on everything； including the patient's rigidity。 He was a tiny man； with the perpetual squint of a watchmaker and a nose so upturned and so tiny his nostrils were virtually two holes in the middle of his face； which was already gouged with laugh lines deep enough to plant in。 Every day he would e and sit on the edge of Gentle's bed； his gray asylum clothes as crumpled as his features； his glossy black wig never in the same place on his pate from hour to hour。 Sitting； sipping coffee； he'd pontificate： on politics； on the various psychoses of his fellow inmates； on the subjugation of L'Himby by merce； on the deaths of his friends； mostly by what he called despair's slow sword； and； of course； on Gentle's condition。 He had seen people made rigid in such a fashion before； he claimed。 The reason was not physiological but psychological； a theory which seemed to carry weight with Pie。 Once； when Scopique had left after a session of theorizing； leaving Pie and Gentle alone； the mystif poured out its guilt。 None of this would have e about； it said； if it had been sensitive to Gentle's situation from the beginning。 Instead； it had been crude and unkind。 The incident on the platform at Mai…ke was a case in point。 Would Gentle ever forgive it？ Ever believe that its actions were the product of ineptitude； not cruelty？ Over the years it had wondered what would happen if they ever took the journey they were taking； and had tried to rehearse its responses； but it had been alone in the Fifth Dominion； unable to confess its fears or share its hopes； and the circumstances of their meeting and departure had been so haphazard that those few rules it had set itself had been thrown to the wind。
〃Forgive me；〃 it said over and over。 〃I love you and I've hurt you； but please； forgive me。〃
Gentle expressed what little he could with his eyes； wishing his fingers had the strength to hold a pen； so that he could simply write I do； but the small advances he'd made since his resurrection seemed to be the limit of his healing； and though he was fed and bathed by Pie； and his muscles massaged； there was no sign of further improvement。 Despite the mystif's constant words of encouragement； there was no doubt that death still had its finger in him。 In them both； in fact； for Pie's devotion seemed to be taking its own toll； and more than once Gentle wondered if the mystif's dwindling was simply fatigue； or whether they were symbi…otically linked after their time together。 If so； his demise would surely take them both to oblivion。
He was alone in his cell the day the suns came out again； but Pie had left him sitting up； with a view through the bars； and he was able to watch the slow unfurling of the clouds and the appearance of the subtlest beams； falling on the solid sea。 This was the first time since their arrival that the suns had broken over the Chzercemit； and he heard a chorus of wele from other cells； then the sound of running feet as guards went to the parapet to watch the transformation。 He could see the surface of the Cradle from where he was sitting； and felt a kind of exhilaration at the imminent spectacle； but as the beams brightened he felt a tremor climbing through his body from his toes； gathering force as it went until by the time it reached his head it had force enough to throw his senses from his skull。 At first he thought he'd stood up and run to the window…he was peering out through the bars at the sea below…but a noise at the door drew his gaze around to meet the sight of Sco…pique； with Aping at his side； crossing the cell to the sallow； bearded derelict sitting with a glazed expression against the far wall。 He was that man。
〃You have to e and see； Zacharias！〃 Scopique was enthusing； putting his arm beneath the derelict and hoisting him up。
Aping lent a hand； and together they began to carry Gentle to the window； from which his mind was already departing。 He left them to their kindness； the exhilaration he'd felt like an engine in him。 Out and along the dreary corridor he went； passing cells in which prisoners were cl
