cb.imajica2-第65部分

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jealousy？　He　hadn't　wanted　her　pany　when　they'd　returned　from　the　Dominions；　his　mission　as　Reconciler　had　scourged　his　libido。　But　now　that　she'd　been　touched　by　his　other；pleasured　by　him　（did　he　see　that　guilt　somewhere　on　her　face；　as　ineptly　buried　as　his　jealousy？）　he　was　feeling　pangs　of　possessiveness。　As　ever　with　their　story；　there　was　no　sentiment　untainted　by　paradox。
　It　was　Clem；　dear　forting　Clem；　who　opened　his　arms　now　and　said；　〃Any　chance　of　a　hug？〃
　〃Oh；　God；　yes；〃　she　said。　〃Every　chance。〃
　He　crossed　to　her　and　wrapped　his　embrace　around　her。　They　rocked　together。
　〃I　should　have　known；　Clem；〃　she　said；　too　quietly　for　Gentle　or　the　boy　to　hear。
　〃Hindsight's　easy；〃　he　said；　kissing　her　hair。　〃I'm　just　glad　you're　alive。〃
　〃He　never　threatened　me。　He　never　laid　a　finger　on　me　that　I　didn't。。。〃
　〃Ask　for？〃
　〃I　didn't　need　to　ask；〃　she　said。　〃He　knew。〃
　The　sound　of　the　front　door　reopening　made　her　raise　her　head　from　Clem's　shoulder。　Gentle　was　stepping　out　into　the　sun　again；　with　the　youth　following。　Once　outside；　he　looked　up；　cupping　his　hand　over　his　brow　to　study　the　sky　at　his　zenith。　Seeing　him　do　so；　Jude　realized　who　the　sky　watcher　she'd　glimpsed　in　the　Boston　Bowl　had　been。　It　was　a　small　solving；　but　she　wasn't　about　to　spurn　the　satisfaction　it　provided。
　〃Sartori　is　Gentle's　brother；　is　that　right？〃　Clem　said。　〃I'm　afraid　I'm　still　hazy　on　the　family　relations。〃
　〃They're　not　brothers；　they're　twins；〃　she　replied。　〃Sartori　is　his　perfect　double。〃
　〃How　perfect？〃　Clem　asked；　looking　at　her　with　a　small；　almost　mischievous　smile　on　his　face。　〃Oh　。。。　very　perfect。〃　〃So　it　wasn't　so　bad；　his　being　here？〃　She　shook　her　head。　〃It　wasn't　bad　at　all；〃　she　replied。　Then；　after　a　moment：　〃He　told　me　he　loved　me；　Clem。〃　〃Oh；　Lord。〃　〃And　I　believed　him。〃
　〃How　many　dozens　of　men　have　told　you　that？〃　〃Yes；　but　he　was　different。。。。〃　〃Famous　last　words。〃
　She　looked　at　the　sun　watcher　for　a　few　seconds；　puzzled　by　the　calm　that　had　e　over　her。　Was　the　mere　memory　of　his　mitment　to　her　enough　to　assuage　every　dread？　〃What　are　you　thinking？〃　Clem　asked　her。　〃That　he　feels　something　Gentle　never　did；〃　she　replied。　〃Maybe　never　could。　Before　you　say　it；　I　know　the　whole　thing's　repulsive。　He's　a　destroyer。　He's　wiped　out　whole　countries。　How　can　I　be　feeling　anything　for　him？〃　〃You　want　the　cliches？〃　〃Tell　me。〃
　〃You　feel　what　you　feel　Some　people　go　for　sailors；　some　people　go　for　men　in　rubber　suits　and　feather　boas。　We　do　what　we　do。　Never　explain；　never　apologize。　There。　That's　all　you're　getting。〃
　Her　hands　went　to　his　face。　She　cupped　it；　then　kissed　it。　〃You　are　sublime；〃　she　said。　〃We're　going　to　survive；　aren't　we？〃
　〃Survive　and　prosper；〃　he　said。　〃But　I　think　we'd　better　find　your　beau；　for　everybody's…〃
　He　stopped　as　her　grip　on　him　tightened。　All　trace　of　joy　had　gone　from　her　face。
　〃What's　wrong？〃
　〃Celestine。　I　sent　him　up　to　Highgate。　To　Roxborough's　tower。〃
　〃I'm　sorry；　I'm　not　following　this。〃
　〃It's　bad　news；〃　she　said；　leaving　his　embrace　and　hurrying　to　the　front　door。
　Gentle　relinquished　his　zenith　watching　at　her　summons　and　returned　to　the　step　as　she　repeated　what　she'd　just　told　Clem。
　〃What's　up　in　Highgate？〃　he　said。
　〃A　woman　who　wanted　to　see　you。　Does　the　name　Nisi　Nirvana　mean　anything　to　you？〃
　Gentle　puzzled　over　this　for　a　moment。　〃It's　something　from　a　story；〃　he　said。
　〃No；　Gentle。　She's　real。　She's　alive。　At　least　she　was。〃
　
　It　hadn't　been　sentiment　alone　that　had　moved　the　Autarch　Sartori　to　have　the　streets　of　London　depicted　in　such　loving　detail　on　the　walls　of　his　palace。　Though　he'd　spent　only　a　little　time　in　this　city…no　more　than　weeks；　between　his　birth　and　his　departure　for　the　Reconciled　Dominions…　Mother　London　and　Father　Thames　had　educated　him　right　royally。　Of　course　the　metropolis　visible　from　the　summit　of　Highgate　Hill；　where　he　stood　now；　was　vaster　and　grimmer　than　the　city　he'd　wandered　then；　but　there　were　enough　signs　remaining　to　stir　some　poignant　and　pungent　memories。　He'd　learned　sex　in　these　streets；　from　the　professionals　around　Drury　Lane。　He'd　learned　murder　at　the　riverside；　watching　the　bodies　washed　up　in　the　mud　on　a　Sunday　morning　after　the　slaughters　of　Saturday　night。　He'd　learned　law　at　Lincoln's　Inn　Field　and　seen　justice　done　at　Tyburn。　All　fine　lessons；　that　had　helped　to　make　him　the　man　he　was。　The　only　lesson　he　couldn't　remember　learning；　whether　in　these　streets　or　any　other；　was　how　to　be　an　architect。　He　must　have　had　a　tutor　in　that；　he　presumed；　at　some　time。　After　all；　wasn't　he　the　man　whose　vision　had　built　a　palace　that　would　stand　in　legend；　even　though　its　towers　were　now　rubble？　Where；　in　the　furnace　of　his　genes　or　in　his　history；　was　the　kindling　spark　of　that　genius？　Perhaps　he'd　only　discover　the　answer　in　the　raising　of　his　New　Yzordderrex。　If　he　was　patient　and　watchful；　the　face　of　his　mentor　would　sooner　or　later　appear　in　its　walls。　There　would　have　to　be　a　great　demolishing；　however；　before　the　foundations　were　laid；　and　banalities　like　the　Tabula　Rasa's　tower；　which　he　now　came　in　sight　of；　would　be　the　first　to　be　condemned。　He　crossed　the　forecourt　to　the　front　door；　whistling　as　he　went　and　wondering　if　the　woman　Judith　had　been　so　insistent　he　meet…this　Celestine…could　hear　his　trill。　The　door　stood　open；　but　he　doubted　any　thief；　however　opportunist；　had　dared　enter。　The　air　around　the　threshold　fairly　pricked　with　power；　putting　him　in　mind　of　his　beloved　Pivot　Tower。
　Still　whistling；　he　crossed　the　foyer　to　a　second　door　and　stepped　through　it　into　a　room　he　knew。　He'd　walked　these　ancient　boards　twice　in　his　life：　the　first　time　the　day　before　the　Reconciliation；　when　he'd　presented　himself　to　Roxborough　here；　passing　himself　off　as　the　Maestro　Sartori　for　the　perverse　pleasure　of　shaking　the　hands　of　the　Reconciler's　patrons　before　the　sabotage　he'd　planned　took　them　to　Hell；　the　second　time；　the　night　after　the　Reconciliation；　with　storms　tearing　up　the　skies　from　Hadrian's　Wall　to　Land's　End。　On　this　occasion　he'd　e　with　Chant；　his　new　familiar；　intending　to　kill　Lucius　Cobbitt；　the　boy　he'd　made　his　unwitting　agent　in　the　sabotage。　Having　searched　for　him　in　Gamut　Street　and　found　him　gone；　he'd　braved　the　storm…there　were　forests　uprooted　and　lifted　in　the　air；　and　a　man　struck　by　lightning　burning　on　Highgate　Hill…only　to　discover　that　Roxborough's　house　was　empty。　He'd　never　found　Cobbitt。　Driven　from　the　safety　of　Gamut　Street　by　his　sometime　Maestro；　the　youth　had　probably　fallen　prey　to　the　storm；　as　so　many　others　had　that　night。
　Now　the　room　stood　silent；　and　so　did　he。　The　lords　who'd　built　this　house；　and　their　children；　who'd　raised　the　tower　above；　were　dead。　It　was　a　wele　hush；　in　it；　there'd　be　time　for　dalliance。　He　wandered　over　to　the　mantelpiece　and　headed　down　the　stairs；　descending　into　a　library　he'd　never　known　existed　until　this　moment。　He　might　have　been　tempted　to　linger；　perusing　the　laden　shelves；　but　the　pricking　power　he'd…　felt　at　the　front　door　was　stronger　than　ever　and　drew　him　on；　more　intrigued　with　every　yard。
　He　heard　the　woman's　voice　before　he　set　eyes　on　her；　emanating　from　a　place　where　the　restless　dust　was　so　thick　it　was　like　walking　in　a　delta　fog。　Barely　visible　through　it；　a　scene　of　sheer　vandalism：　books；　scrolls；　and　manuscripts　reduced　to　shreds　or　buried　in　the　wreckage　of　the　shelves　they'd　been　laid　upon。　And　beyond　the　rubble；　a　hole　in　the　brick；　and　from　the　hole；　a　call。
　〃Is　that　Sartori？〃
　〃Yes；〃　he　said。
　〃e　closer。　Let　me　see　you。〃
　He　presented　himself　at　the　bottom　of　the　heap　of　rubble。
　〃I　thought　she'd　failed　to　find　you；〃　Celestine　said。　〃Or　else　you'd　refused　to　e。〃
　〃How　could　I　refuse　a　summons　like　this？〃　he　said　softly。
　〃Do　you　think　this　is　some　kind　of　liaison？〃　she　replied。　〃Some　secret　tryst？〃
　Her　voice　was　raw　with　the　dust；　and　bitter。　He　liked　the　sound　of　it。　Women　who　had　anger　in　them　were　always　so　much　more　interesting　than　their　contented　sisters。
　〃e　in；　Maestro；〃　she　said　to　him。　〃Let　me　put　you　to　rights。〃
　He　clambered　up　over　the　stones　and　peered　into　the　darkness。　The　cell　was　a　wretched　hole；　as　sordid　as　anything