cb.imajica2-第40部分

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s　gathering　at　the　threshold　of　her　world　should　have；　distracted　her　from　trivialities；　its　presence　had　precisely　the　reverse　effect。　She　was　more　pernickety　than　usual　about　the　cheese　she　bought　and　sniffed　at　half　a　dozen　deodorants　before　she　found　a　scent　that　pleased　her。
　The　shopping　done；　she　headed　home　through　streets　buzzing　with　the　business　of　a　sunlit　day；　contemplating　the　problem　of　Celestine　as　she　went。　With　Oscar　plainly　unwilling　to　aid　her；　she　would　have　to　look　for　help　elsewhere；　and　with　her　circle　of　trusted　souls　so　shrunk；　that　only　left　Clem　and　Gentle。　The　Reconciler　had　his　own　agenda；　of　course；　but　after　the　promises　of　the　night　before…the　mitments　to　be　with　each　other；　sharing　the　fears　and　the　visions…he'd　surely　understand　her　need　to　liberate　Celestine；　if　only　to　put　an　end　to　the　mystery。　She　would　tell　him　all　she　knew　about　Roxborough's　prisoner；　she　decided；　as　soon　as　possible。
　He　wasn't　home　when　she　got　back；　which　was　no　surprise。　He'd　warned　her　that　he'd　be　keeping　odd　hours　as　he　laid　the　groundwork　for　the　Reconciliation。　She　prepared　some　lunch；　then　decided　she　hadn't　got　an　appetite　and　went　to　work　one　up　by　tidying　the　bedroom；　which　was　still　chaos　after　the　night's　traffic。　As　she　straightened　the　sheets　she　discovered　they　had　a　tiny　occupant：　the　blue　stone　（or；　as　she　preferred　to　think　of　it；　the　egg）；　which　had　been　in　one　of　the　pockets　of　her　ravaged　clothes。　The　sight　of　it　diverted　her　from　her　bed　making；　and　she　sat　on　the　edge　of　the　mattress；　passing　the　egg　from　hand　to　hand；　wondering　if　perhaps　it　could　deliver　her；　even　briefly；　into　the　cell　where　Celestine　was　locked。　Itliad　of　course　been　much　reduced　by　Dowd's　mites；　but　even　when　she'd　first　discovered　it　in　Estabrook's　safe　it　had　been　a　fragment　of　a　greater　form　and　possessed　some　jurisidiction。　Did　it　still？
　〃Show　me　the　Goddess；〃　she　said；　clutching　the　egg　tight。　〃Show　me　the　Goddess。〃
　Spoken　plainly　that　way；　the　notion　of　her　mind's　removal　from　the　physical　world；　and　its　flight；　seemed　absurd。　That　wasn't　the　way　the　world　worked；　except　perhaps　at　enchanted　midnights。　Now　it　was　the　middle　of　the　afternoon；　and　the　noise　of　day　rose　through　the　open　window。　She　was　loath　to　go　and　close　it；　however。　She　couldn't　exile　the　world　every　time　she　wanted　to　alter　her　consciousness。　The　street　and　the　people　in　it…the　dirt　and　the　din　and　the　summer　sky…all　had　to　be　made　part　of　the　mechanism　for　transcendence；　or　else　she'd　e　to　grief　the　way　her　sister　had；　bound　up　and　blind　long　before　her　eyes　went　from　her　head。
　As　was　her　wont；　she　began　to　talk　to　herself；　coaxing　the　miracle。　〃It's　happened　before；〃　she　said。　〃It　can　happen　again。　Be　patient；　woman。〃
　But　the　longer　she　sat；　the　stronger　the　sense　of　her　own　ludicrousness　became。　The　image　of　her　idiot　devotion　appeared　in　her　mind's　eye。　There　she　was；　sitting　on　the　bed；　staring　at　a　piece　of　dead　stone：　a　study　in　fatuity；
　〃Fool；〃　she　said　to　herself。
　Suddenly　weary　of　the　whole　fiasco；　she　got　up　from　the　bed。　In　that　rising　she　realized　her　error。　Her　mind's　eye　showed　her　the　motion　as　if　it　was　detached　from　her；　hovering　near　the　window。　She　felt　a　sudden　pang　of　panic　and　for　the　second　tune　in　the　space　of　thirty　seconds　called　herself　fool；　not　for　wasting　time　with　the　egg　but　for　failing　to　realize　that　the　image　she'd　taken　as　evidence　of　her　own　failure；　that　of　herself　sitting　waiting　for　something　to　happen；　was　in　fact　proof　that　it　had。　Her　sight　had　drifted　from　her　so　subtly　she'd　not　even　known　it　had　gone。
　〃The　cell；〃　she　said；　instructing　her　subtle　eye。　〃Show　me　the　Goddess's　cell。〃
　Though　it　was　close　to　the　window；　and　could　have　flown　from　there；　her　eye　instead　rose　at　a　sickening　speed；　till　she　was　looking　down　at　herself　from　the　ceiling。　She　saw　her　body　rock　below　her；　as　the　flight　giddied　her。　Then　her　sight　descended。　The　top　of　her　head　loomed　like　a　planet　beneath　her；　and　she　was　plunged　into　her　skull；　down；　down　into　the　darkness　of　her　body。　She　felt　her　own　panic　on　all　sides：　the　frantic　labor　of　her　heart；　her　lungs　drawing　shallow　breaths。　There　was　none　of　the　brightness　she'd　found　in　Celestine's　body；　no　hint　of　that　luminous　blue　the　Goddess　had　shared　with　the　stone。　There　was　only　the　dark　and　its　turmoil。　She　wanted　to　make　the　egg　understand　its　mistake　and　draw　her　mind's　eye　up　out　of　this　pit；　but　if　her　lips　were　making　such　pleas；　which　she　doubted；　they　were　ignored；　and　her　fall　went　on；　and　on；　as　though　her　sight　h；ad　bee　a　fly　speck　in　a　well　and　would　fall　for　hours　without　reaching　its　bowels。
　And　then；　below　her；　a　tiny　point　of　light；　which　grew　as　she　approached；　to　show　itself　not　a　point　but　a　strip　of　rippling　luminescence；　like　the　purest　glyph　imaginable。　What　was　this　doing　inside　her？　Was　it　some　relic　of　the　working　that　had　created　her；　a　fragment　of　Sartori's　feit；　like　Gentle's　signature　hidden　in　the　brushwork　of　his　forged　canvases？　She　was　upon　it　now；　or　rather　in　it；　its　brightness　a　blaze　that　made　her　mind's　eye　squint。
　And　out　of　the　blaze；　images。　Such　images！　She　knew　neither　their　origins　nor　their　purpose；　but　they　were　exquisite　enough　to　make　her　forgive　the　misdirection　that　had　led　her　here　rather　than　to　Celestine。　She　seemed　to　be　in　a　paradisiacal　city；　half　overgrown　with　glorious　flora；　the　profusion　of　which　was　fed　by　waters　that　rose　like　arches　and　colonnades　on　every　side。　Flocks　of　stars　flew　overhead　and　made　perfect　circles　at　her　zenith；　mists　hung　at　her　ankles；　laying　their　veils　beneath　her　feet　to　ease　her　step。　She　passed　through　this　city　like　a　hallowed　daughter　and　came　to　rest　in　a　large　airy　room；　where　water　cascaded　in　place　of　doors；　and　the　merest　stab　of　sun　brought　rainbows。　There　she　sat　and　with　these　borrowed　eyes　saw　her　own　face　and　breasts；　so　vast　they　might　have　been　sculpted　for　a　temple；　raised　above　her。　Did　milk　seep　from　her　nipples；　and　did　she　sing　a　lullaby？　She　thought　so；　but　her　attention　strayed　too　quickly　from　breasts　and　face　to　be　sure；　her　gaze　turned　towards　the　far　end　of　the　chamber。　Somebody　had　entered：　a　man；　so　wounded　and　ill…mended　she　didn't　recognize　him　at　first。　It　was　only　when　he　was　almost　upon　her　that　she　realized　the　pany　she　kept。　It　was　Gentle；　unshaven　and　badly　fed；　but　greeting　her　with　tears　of　joy　in　his　eyes。　If　words　were　exchanged　she　didn't　hear　them；　but　he　fell　to　his　knees　in　front　of　her；　and　her　gaze　went　between　his　upturned　face　and　the　monumental　effigy　behind　her。　It　was　not；　after　all；　a　thing　of　painted　stone；　but　was　in　this　vision　made　of　living　flesh；　moving；　weeping；　even　glancing　down　at　the　worshiper　she　was。
　AH　this　was　strange　enough；　but　there　was　stranger　still　to　e；　as　she　looked　back　towards　Gentle　and　saw　him　pluck　from　a　hand　too　tiny　to　be　hers　the　very　stone　that　had　given　her　this　dream。　He　took　it　with　gratitude；　his　tears　finally　abating。　Then　he　rose；　and　as　he　made　his　way　back　towards　the　liquid　door；　the　day　beyond　it　blazed；　and　the　scene　was　washed　away　in　light。
　She　sensed　that　the　enigma；　whatever　it　signified；　was　passing　away；　but　she　had　no　power　to　hold　it。　The　glyph　in　her　core　appeared　before　her；　and　she　rose　from　it　like　a　diver　from　some　treasure　the　deep　would　not　relinquish；　up　through　the　dark　and　out　into　the　place　she'd　left。
　Nothing　had　changed　in　the　room；　but　a　sudden　squall　was　on　the　world　outside；　its　torrent　heavy　enough　to　drop　a　sheet　of　water　between　the　raised　window　and　the　sill。　She　stood　up；　clutching　the　stone。　The　journey　had　left　her　lightheaded；　however；　and　she　knew　if　she　tried　to　go　to　the　kitchen　and　put　some　food　in　her　belly　her　legs　would　fold　up　beneath　her；　so　she　lay　down　and　let　the　pillow　have　her　head　awhile。
　
　She　didn't　think　she　slept；　but　it　was　as　difficult　to　distinguish　between　sleep　and　wakefulness　as　it　had　been　in　Quaisoir's　bed。　The　visions　she'd　seen　in　the　darkness　of　her　own　belly　were　as　insistent　as　some　prophetic　dream　and　stayed　with　her；　the　music　of　the　rain　a　perfect　acpaniment　to　the　memory。　It　was　only　when　the　clouds　moved　on；　taking　their　deluge　south；　and　the　sun　appeared　between　the　sodden　curtains；　that　sleep　overcame　her。
　When　she　woke；　it　was　to　the　sound　of　Gentle's　key　in　the　lock。　It　was　night；　or　close　to　it；　and　he　switched　on　the　light　in　the　adjacent　room。　She　sat　up　and　was　about　to　call　to　him　when　she　thought　better　of　it　and；　instead；　watched　through　the　partially　open　door。　She　saw　his　face　for　only　an　instant；　but　the　glimpse　was　enough　to　make　her　want　him　to　e　in　to　her　with　kisses。　He　didn't。　Instead；　he　paced　back　and　forth　next　door；　massaging　his　hands　as　though　they　ached；　working　first　at　the　fingers；　then　at　the　palms。
　Finally；　she　couldn't　be　patient　any　longer　and　got　up；　sleepily　murmuring　his　name。　He　didn't　hear　her　at　first；　and　she　had　to　speak　again　before　he　realized　it　was　being　called。　Only　then　did　he　turn　and　put　on　a　smile　for　her。
　〃Still　awake？〃　he　said　fondly。　〃You　shouldn't　have　stayed　up。〃
　〃Are　you　all　right？〃
　〃Yes。　Yes；　of　course。〃　He　put　his　hands　to　his　face。　〃This　is　a　hard　business；　you　know。　I　didn't　expect　it　to　be　so　difficult。〃
　〃Do　you　want　to　tell　me　about　it？〃
　〃Some　other　tune；〃　he　said；　approaching　the　door。　She　took　his　hands　in　hers。　〃What's　this？〃　he　said。
　She　was　still　holding　the　egg；　but　not　for　long。　He　had　it　from　her　palm　with　the　ease　of　a　pickpocket。　She　wanted　to　snatch　it　back；　but　she　fought　the　instinct　and　let　him　study　his　prize。
　〃Pretty；〃　he　said。　Then；　less　lightly：　〃Where　did　it　e　from？〃
　Why　did　she　hesitate　to　answer？　Because　he　looked　so　weary；　and　she　didn't　want　to　burden　him　with　new　mysteries　when　he　had　a　surfeit　of　his　own？　It　was　that　in　part；　but　there　was　another　part　that　was　altogether　less　clear　to　her。　Something　to　do　with　the　fact　that　in　her　vision　she'd　seen　him　far　more　broken　that　he　was　at　present；　wounded　and　wretched；　and　somehow　that　condition　had　to　remain　her　secret；　at　least　for　a　time。
　He　put　the　egg　to　his　nose　and　sniffed　it。　〃I　smell　you；〃　he　said。
　〃No。。。。〃
　〃Yes；　I　do。　Where　have　you　been　keeping　it？〃　He　put　his　empty　hand　between　her　legs。　〃In　here？〃
　The　thought　was