cb.imajica1-第76部分
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〃Why would I want to forget？〃 he said。
Pie looked back along the line。 The distance was obscured by dust； but there were glimpses through it of a clear sky。
〃Well？〃 said Gentle。
〃Maybe because remembering hurts too much；〃 it said； without looking around。
The words were even uglier to Gentle's ear than the reply that had preceded it。 He caught the sense； but only with difficulty。
〃Stop this；〃 he said。
〃Stop what？〃
〃Talking in that damn…fool way。 It turns my gut。〃
〃I'm not doing anything；〃 the mystif said； its voice still distorted； but now more subtly。 〃Trust me。 I'm doing nothing。〃
〃So tell me about the pneuma；〃 Gentle said。 〃I want to know how 1 came by a power like that。〃
Pie started to reply； but this time the words were so badly disfigured； and the sound itself so ugly； it was like a fist in Gentle's stomach； stirring the stew there。
〃Jesus！〃 he said； rubbing his belly in a vain attempt to soothe the churning。 〃Whatever you're playing at…〃
〃It's not me；〃 Pie protested。 〃It's you。 You don't want to hear what I'm saying。〃
〃Yes； I do；〃 Gentle said； wiping beads of chilly sweat from around his mouth。 〃I want answers。 I want straight answers！〃
Grimly； Pie started to speak again； but immediately the waves of nausea climbed Gentle's gut with fresh zeal。 The pain in his belly was sufficient to bend him double； but he was damned if the mystif was going to keep anything from him。 It was a matter of principle now。 He studied Pie's lips through narrowed eyes； but after a few words the mystif stopped speaking。
〃Tell me！〃 Gentle said； determined to have Pie obey him even if he could make no sense of the words。 〃What have I done that I want to forget so badly？ Tell me！〃
Its face all reluctance； the mystif once again opened its mouth。 The words； when they came； were so hopelessly corrupted Gentle could barely grasp a fraction of their sense。 Something about power。 Something about death。
Point proved； he waved the source of this excremental din away and turned his eyes in search of a sight to calm his belly。 But the scene around him was a convention of little horrors： a graveolent making its wretched nest beneath the rails； the perspective of the track； snatching his eye into the dust； the dead zarzi at his feet； its egg sac split； spattering its unborn onto the stone。 This last image； vile as it was； brought food to mind。 The harbor meal in Yzordderrex： fish within fish within fish； the littlest filled with eggs。 The thought defeated him。 He tottered to the edge of the platform and vomited onto the rails； his gut convulsing。 He didn't have that much in his belly； but the heaves went on and on until his abdomen ached and tears of pain ran from his eyes。 At last he stepped back from the platform edge； shuddering。 The smell of his stomach was still in his nostrils； but the spasms were steadily diminishing。 From the corner of his eye he saw Pie approach。
〃Don't e near me！〃 he said。 〃I don't want you touching me！〃
He turned his back on the vomit and its cause and retired to the shade of the waiting room； sitting down on the hard wood bench； putting his head against the wall； and closing his eyes。 As the pain eased and finally disappeared； his thoughts turned to the purpose behind Pie's assault。 He'd quizzed the mystif several times over the past four and a half months about the problem of power： how it was e by and…more particularly…how he； Gentle； had e to possess it。 Pie's replies had been oblique in the extreme； but Gentle hadn't felt any great urge to get to the bottom of the question。 Perhaps subconsciously he hadn't really wanted to know。 Classically； such gifts had consequences； and he was enjoying his role as getter and wielder of power too much to want it spoiled with talk of hubris。 He'd been content to be fobbed off with hints and equivocation； and he might have continued to be content； if he hadn't been irritated by the zarzi and the lateness of the L'Himby train； bored and ready for an argument。 But that was only half the issue。 He'd pressed the mystif； certainly； but he'd scarcely goaded it。 The attack seemed out of all proportion to the offense。 He'd asked an innocent question and been turned inside out for doing so。 So much for all that loving talk in the mountains。
〃Gentle。 。 。〃
〃Fuck you。〃
〃The train； Gentle。 。 。〃
〃What about it？〃
〃It's ing。〃
He opened his eyes。 The mystif was standing in the doorway； looking forlorn。
〃I'm sorry that had to happen；〃 it said。
〃It didn't have to；〃 Gentle said。 〃You made it happen。〃
〃Truly I didn't。〃
〃What was it then？ Something I ate？〃
〃No。 But there are some questions…〃
〃That make me sick。〃
〃…that have answers you don't want to hear。〃
〃What do you take me for？〃 Gentle said； his tone all quiet contempt。 〃I ask a question； you fill my head with so much shit for an answer that I throw up； and then it's my fault for asking in the first place？ What kind of fucked…up logic is that？〃
The mystif raised its hands in mock surrender。 〃I'm not going to argue；〃 it said。
〃Damn right；〃 Gentle replied。
Any further exchange would have been impractical anyway； with the sound of the train's approach steadily getting louder； and its arrival being greeted by cheers and clapping from an audience that had gathered on the platform。 Still feeling delicate when he stood； Gentle followed Pie out into the crowd。
It seemed half the inhabitants of Mai…ke had e down to the station。 Most； he assumed； were sightseers rather than potential travelers； the train a distraction from hunger and unanswered prayers。 There were some families here who planned to board； however； pressing through the crowd with their luggage。 What privations they'd endured to purchase their escape from Mai…ke could only be imagined。 There was much sobbing as they embraced those they were leaving behind； most of whom were old folk； who to judge by their grief did not expect to see their children and grandchildren again。 The journey to L'Himby； which for Gentle and Pie was little more than a jaunt； was for them a departure into memory。
That said； there could be few more spectacular means of departure in the Imajica than the massive lootive which was only now emerging from a cloud of evaporating steam。 Whoever had made blueprints for this roaring； glistening machine knew its earth counterpart…the kind of lootives outdated in the West but still serving in China and India…very well。 Their imitation was not so slavish as to suppress a certain decorative joie de vivre…it had been painted so gaudily it looked like the male of the species in search of a mate…but beneath the daubings was a machine that might have steamed into King's Cross or Marylebone in the years following the Great War。 It drew six carriages and as many freight vehicles again； two of the latter being loaded with the flock of sheep。
Pie had already been down the line of carriages and was now ing back towards Gentle。
〃The second。 It's fuller down the other end。〃
They got in。 The interiors had once been lush； but usage had taken its toll。 Most of the seats had been stripped of both padding and headrests； and some were missing backs entirely。 The floor was dusty； and the walls…which had once been decorated in the same riot as the engine…were in dire need of a fresh coat of paint。 There were only two other occupants； both male； both grotesquely fat； and both wearing frock coats from which elaborately bound limbs emerged； lending them the look of clerics who'd escaped from an accident ward。 Their features were minuscule； crowded in the center of each face as if clinging together for fear of drowning in fat。 Both were eating nuts； cracking them in their pudgy fists and dropping little rains of pulverized shell on the floor between them。
〃Brothers of the Boulevard；〃 Pie remarked as Gentle took a seat； as far from the nut…crackers as possible。
Pie sat across the aisle from him； the bag containing what few belongings they'd accrued to date alongside。 There was then a long delay； while recalcitrant animals were beaten and cajoled into boarding for what they perhaps knew was a ride to the slaughterhouse and those on the platform made their final farewells。 It wasn't just the vows and tea
