cb.imajica1-第64部分

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s　from　the　surviving　doeki；　the　sky　was　losing　its　golden　sheen　and　dusk　was　on　its　way。　They　debated　whether　to　proceed　in　darkness　and　decided　against　it。　Though　the　air　was　calm　at　present；　they　knew　from　past　experience　that　conditions　on　these　heights　were　unpredictable。　If　they　attempted　to　move　by　night；　and　a　storm　descended　from　the　peaks；　they'd　be　twice　blinded　and　in　danger　of　losing　their　way。　With　the　High　Pass　so　close；　and　the　journey　easier；　they　hoped；　once　they　were　through　it；　the　risk　was　not　worth　taking。
　Having　used　up　the　supply　of　wood　they'd　collected　below　the　snow　line；　they　were　obliged　to　fuel　the　fire　with　the　dead　doeki's　saddle　and　harness。　It　made　for　a　smoky；　pungent；　and　fitful　blaze；　but　it　was　better　than　nothing。　They　cooked　some　of　the　fresh　meat；　Gentle　observing　as　he　chewed　that　he　had　less　punction　about；　eating　something　he'd　named　than　he　thought；　and　brewed　up　a　small　serving　of　the　herders'　piss　liquor。　As　they　drank；　Gentle　returned　the　conversation　to　the　women　in　the　ice。
　〃Why　would　a　God　as　powerful　as　Hapexamendios　slaughter　defenseless　women？〃
　〃Whoever　said　they　were　defenseless？〃　Pie　replied。　〃1　think　they　were　probably　very　powerful。　Their　oracles　must　have　sensed　what　was　ing；　so　they　had　their　armies　ready…〃
　〃Armies　of　women？〃
　〃Certainly。　Warriors　in　their　tens　of　thousands。　There　are　places　to　the　north　of　the　Lenten　Way　where　the　earth　used　to　move　every　fifty　years　or　so　and　uncover　one　of　their　war　graves。〃
　〃They　were　all　slaughtered？　The　armies；　the　oracles…〃
　〃Or　driven　so　deep　into　hiding　they　forgot　who　they　were　after　a　few　generations。　Don't　look　so　surprised。　It　happens。'1
　〃One　God　defeats　how　many　Goddesses？　Ten；　twenty…〃
　〃Innumerable。〃
　〃How？1'
　〃He　was　One；　and　simple。　They　were　many；　and　diverse。〃
　〃Singularity　is　strength…〃
　〃At　least　in　the　short　term。　Who　told　you　that？〃
　〃I'm　trying　to　remember。　Somebody　I　didn't　like　much：　Klein；　maybe。〃
　〃Whoever　said　it；　it's　true。　Hapexamendios　came　into　the　Dominions　with　a　seductive　idea：　that　wherever　you　went；　whatever　misfortune　attended　you；　you　needed　only　one　name　on　your　lips；　one　prayer；　one　altar；　and　you'd　be　in　His　care。　And　He　brought　a　species　to　maintain　that　order　once　He'd　established　it。　Yours。〃
　〃Those　women　back　there　looked　human　enough　to　me。〃
　〃So　do　I；〃　Pie　reminded　him。　〃But　I'm　not。〃
　〃No　。　。　。　you're　pretty　diverse；　aren't　you？〃
　〃I　was　once。　。　。。〃
　〃So　that　puts　you　on　the　side　of　the　Goddesses；　doesn't　it？〃　Gentle　whispered。
　The　mystif　put　its　finger　to　his　lips。
　Gentle　mouthed　one　word　by　way　of　response：　〃Heretic。〃
　It　was　very　dark　now；　and　they　both　settled　to　studying　the　fire。　It　was　steadily　diminishing　as　the　last　of　Chester's　saddle　was　consumed。
　〃Maybe　we　should　burn　some　fur；〃　Gentle　suggested。
　〃No；〃　said　Pie。　〃Let　it　dwindle。　But　keep　looking。〃
　〃At　what？〃
　〃Anything。〃
　〃There's　only　you　to　look　at。〃
　〃Then　look　at　me。〃
　He　did　so。　The　privations　of　the　last　many　days　had　seemingly　taken　little　toll　on　the　mystif。　It　had　no　facial　hair　to　disfigure　the　symmetry　of　its　features；　nor　had　their　spar…tan　diet　pinched　its　cheeks　or　hollowed　its　eyes。　Studying　its　face　was　like　returning　to　a　favorite　painting　in　a　museum。　There　it　was：　a　thing　of　calm　and　beauty。　But；　unlike　the　painting；　the　face　before　him；　which　presently　seemed　so　solid；　had　the　capacity　for　infinite　change。　It　was　months　since　the　night　when　he'd　first　seen　that　phenomenon。　But　now；　as　the　fire　burned　itself　out　and　the　shadows　deepened　around　them；　he　realized　the　same　sweet　miracle　was　imminent。　The　flicker　of　dying　flame　made　the　symmetry　swim；　the　flesh　before　him　seemed　to　lose　its　fixedness　as　he　stared　and　stirred　it。
　〃I　want　to　watch；〃　he　murmured。
　〃Then　watch。〃
　〃But　the　fire's　going　out。　。　。。〃
　〃We　don't　need　light　to　see　each　other；〃　the　mystif　whispered。　〃Hold　on　to　the　sight。〃
　Gentle　concentrated；　studying　the　face　before　him。　His　eyes　ached　as　he　tried　to　hold　onto　it；　but　they　were　no　petition　for　the　swelling　darkness。
　〃Stop　looking；〃　Pie　said；　in　a　voice　that　seemed　to　rise　from　the　decay　of　the　embers。　〃Stop　looking；　and　see。〃
　Gentle　fought　for　the　sense　of　this；　but　it　was　no　more　susceptible　to　analysis　than　the　darkness　in　front　of　him。　Two　senses　were　failing　him　here…one　physical；　one　linguistic…two　ways　to　embrace　the　world　slipping　from　him　at　the　same　moment。　It　was　like　a　little　death；　and　a　panic　seized　him；　like　the　fear　he'd　felt　some　midnights　waking　in　his　bed　and　body　and　knowing　neither：　his　bones　a　cage；　his　blood　a　gruel；　his　dissolution　the　only　certainty。　At　such　times　he'd　turned　on　all　the　lights；　for　their　fort。　But　there　were　no　lights　here。　Only　bodies；　growing　colder　as　the　fire　died。
　〃Help　me；〃　he　said。　The　mystif　didn't　speak。　〃Are　you　there；　Pie？　I'm　afraid。　Touch　me；　will　you？　Pie？〃
　The　mystif　didn't　move。　Gentle　started　to　reach　out　in　the　darkness；　remembering　as　he　did　so　the　sight　of　Taylor　lying　on　a　pillow　from　which　they'd　both　known　he'd　never　rise　again；　asking　for　Gentle　to　hold　his　hand。　With　that　memory；　the　panic　became　sorrow：　for　Taylor；　for　Clem；　for　every　soul　sealed　from　its　loved　ones　by　senses　born　to　failure；　himself　included。　He　wanted　what　the　child　wanted：　knowledge　of　another　presence；　proved　in　touch。　But　he　knew　it　was　no　real　solution。　He　might　find　the　mystif　in　the　darkness；　but　he　could　no　more　hold　on　to　its　flesh　forever　than　he　could　hold　the　senses　he'd　already　lost。　Nerves　decayed；　and　fingers　slipped　from　fingers　at　the　last。
　Knowing　this　little　solace　was　as　hopeless　as　any　other；　he　withdrew　his　hand　and　instead　said；　〃I　love　you。〃
　Or　did　he　simply　think　it？　Perhaps　it　was　thought；　because　it　was　the　idea　rather　than　the　syllables　that　formed　in　front　of　him；　the　iridescence　he　remembered　from　Pie's　transforming　self　shimmering　in　a　darkness　that　was　not；　he　vaguely　understood；　the　darkness　of　the　starless　night　but　his　mind's　darkness；　and　this　seeing　not　the　business　of　eye　and　object　but　his　exchange　with　a　creature　he　loved；　and　who　loved　him　back。
　He　let　his　feelings　go　to　Pie；　if　there　was　indeed　a　going；　which　he　doubted。　Space；　like　time；　belonged　to　the　other　tale…to　the　tragedy　of　separation　they'd　left　behind。　Stripped　of　his　senses　and　their　necessities；　almost　unborn　again；　he　knew　the　mystif　s　fort　as　it　knew　his；　and　that　dissolution　he'd　woken　in　terror　of　so　many　times　stood　revealed　as　the　beginning　of　bliss。
　A　gust　of　wind；　blowing　between　the　rocks；　caught　the　embers　at　their　side；　and　their　glow　became　a　momentary　flame。　It　brightened　the　face　in　front　of　him；　and　the　sight　summoned　him　back　from　his　unborn　state。　It　was　no　great　hardship　to　return。　The　place　they'd　found　together　was　out　of　time　and　could　not　decay；　and　the　face　in　front　of　him；　for　all　its　frailty　（or　perhaps　because　of　it）；　was　beautiful　to　look　at。　Pie　smiled　at　him　but　said　nothing。
　〃We'should　sleep；〃　Gentle　said。　〃We've　got　a　long　way　to　go　tomorrow。〃
　Another　gust　came　along；　and　there　were　flecks　of　snow　in　it；　stinging　Gentle's　face。　He　pulled　the　hood　of　his　coat　up　over　his　head　and　got　up　to　check　on　the　welfare　of　the　doeki。　It　had　made　a　shallow　bed　for　itself　in　the　snow　and　was　asleep。　By　the　time　he　got　back　to　the　fire；　which　had　found　some　bustible　morsel　and　was　devouring　it　brightly；　the　mystif　was　also　asleep；　its　hood　pulled　up　around　its　head。　As　he　stared　down　at　the　visible　crescent　of　Pie's　face；　a　simple　thought　came：　that　though　the　wind　was　moaning　at　the　rock；　ready　to　bury　them；　and　there　was　death　in　the　valley　behind　and　a　city　of　atrocities　ahead；　he　was　happy。　He　lay　down　on　the　hard　ground　beside　the　mystif。　His　last　thought　as　sleep　came　was　of　Taylor；　lying　on　a　pillow　which　was　being　a　snowfield　as　he　drew　his　final　breaths；　his　face　growing　translucent　and　finally　disappearing；　so　that　when　Gentle　slipped　from　consciousness；　it　was　not　into　darkness　but　into　the　whiteness　of　that　deathbed；　turned　to　untrodden　snow。
　
　
　23
　
　Gentle　dreamed　that　the　wind　grew　harsher　and　brought　snow　down　off　the　peaks；　fresh　minted。　He　nevertheless　rose　from　the　relative　fort　of　his　place　beside