cb.imajica2-第93部分

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　He　collared　the　nearest　passerby　and　asked　him　how　to　get　to　the　Mount。　The　fellow　pointed　over　the　heads　of　the　crowd；　leaving　the　boss　and　his　boy　to　burrow　their　way　to　the　edge　of　the　market；　where　they　had　a　view　not　of　Vanaeph　but　of　the　walled　city　that　stood　between　them　and　the　Mount　of　Lipper　Bayak。　The　grin　reappeared　on　Monday's　face；　broader　than　ever；　and　on　his　lips　the　name　he'd　so　often　breathed　like　an　enchantment。
　〃Patashoqua？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃We　painted　it　on　the　wall　together；　d'you　remember？〃
　〃I　remember。〃
　〃What's　it　like　inside？〃
　Gentle　was　peering　at　the　bottle　in　his　hand；　wondering　if　the　peculiar　exhilaration　he　felt　was　going　to　pass　with　the　headache　that　acpanied　it。
　〃Boss？〃
　〃What？〃
　〃I　said；　what's　it　like　inside？〃
　〃I　don't　know。　I've　never　been。〃
　〃Well；　shouldn't　we？〃
　Gentle　thrust　the　bottle　at　Monday　and　sighed；　a　lazy；　easy　sigh　that　ended　in　a　smile。　〃Yes；　my　friend；〃　he　said。　〃I　think　maybe　we　should。〃
　
　Thus　began　the　last　pilgrimage　of　the　Maestro　Sartori…　called　John　Furie　Zacharias；　or　Gentle；　the　Reconciler　of　Dominions…across　the　Imajica。
　He　hadn't　intended　it　to　be　a　pilgrimage　at　all；　but　having　promised　Monday　that　they　would　find　the　woman　of　his　dreams；　he　couldn't　bring　himself　to　desert　the　boy　and　return　to　the　Fifth。　They　began　their　search；　of　course；　in　Patashoqua；　which　was　more　prosperous　than　ever　these　days；　with　its　proximity　to　the　newly　reconciled　Dominion　creating　businesses　every　day。　After　almost　a　year　of　wondering　what　the　city　would　be　like；　Gentle　was　inevitably　somewhat　disappointed　once　he　got　inside　its　walls；　but　Monday's　enthusiasm　was　a　sight　in　itself；　and　a　poignant　reminder　of　his　own　astonishment　when　he　and　Pie　had　first　entered　the　Fourth。
　Unable　to　trace　the　women　in　the　city；　they　went　on　to　Vanaeph；　hoping　to　find　Tick。　He　was　off　traveling；　they　were　told；　but　one　sharp…sighted　individual　claimed　to　have　seen　two　women　who　fitted　the　description　of　Jude　and　Hoi…Polloi　hitching　a　ride　at　the　edge　of　the　highway。　An　hour　later；　Gentle　and　Monday　were　doing　the　same　thing；　and　the　pursuit　that　was　to　take　them　across　the　Dominions　began　in　earnest。
　For　the　Maestro　the　journey　was　very　different　from　those　that　had　preceded　it。　The　first　time　he'd　made　this　trek　he'd　traveled　in　ignorance　of　himself；　failing　to　prehend　the　significance　of　the　people　he'd　met　and　the　places　he'd　seen。　The　second　time　he'd　been　a　phantom；　flying　at　the　speed　of　thought　between　members　of　the　Synod；　his　business　too　urgent　to　allow　him　to　appreciate　the　myriad　wonders　he　was　passing　through。　But　now；　finally；　he　had　both　the　time　and　the　prehension　to　make　sense　of　his　pilgrimage；　and；　having　begun　the　journey　reluctantly；　he　soon　had　as　much　taste　for　it　as　his　panion。
　Word　of　the　changes　in　Yzordderrex　had　spread　even　to　the　tiniest　villages；　and　the　demise　of　the　Autarch's　Empire　was　everywhere　cause　for　jubilation。　Rumors　of　the　Imajica's　healing　had　also　spread；　and　when　Monday　told　people　where　he　and　his　quiet　panion　came　from　（which　he　was　wont　to　do　at　the　vaguest　cue）　they　were　plied　with　drinks　and　grilled　for　news　of　the　paradisiacal　Fifth。　Many　of　their　questioners；　knowing　that　the　door　into　that　mystery　finally　stood　open；　were　planning　to　visit　the　Fifth　and　wanted　to　know　what　gifts　they　should　take　with　them　into　a　Dominion　that　was　already　so　full　of　marvels。　When　this　question　was　put；　Gentle；　who　usually　let　Monday　do　the　talking　during　these　interviews；　invariably　spoke　up。
　〃Take　your　family　histories；〃　he'd　say。　〃Take　your　poems。　Take　your　jokes。　Take　your　lullabies。　Make　them　understand　in　the　Fifth　what　glories　there　are　here。〃
　People　tended　to　look　at　him　askance　when　he　answered　in　this　fashion；　and　told　him　that　their　jokes　and　their　family　histories　didn't　seem　particularly　glorious。　Gentle　would　simply　say；　〃They're　you。　And　you're　the　best　gift　the　Fifth　could　be　given。〃
　〃You　know；　we　could　have　made　a　fortune　if　we'd　brought　a　few　maps　of　England　with　us；〃　Monday　remarked　one　day。
　〃Do　we　care　about　fortunes？〃　Gentle　said。
　〃You　might　not；　boss；〃　Monday　replied。　〃Personally；　I'm　much　in　favor。〃
　He　was　right；　Gentle　thought。　They　could　have　sold　a　thousand　maps　already；　and　they　were　only　just　entering　the　Third：　maps　which　would　have　been　copied；　and　the　copies　copied；　each　transcriber　inevitably　adding　their　own　felicities　to　the　design。　The　thought　of　such　proliferation　led　Gentle　back　to　his　own　hand；　which　had　seldom　worked　for　any　purpose　other　than　profit；　and　which　for　all　its　labor　had　never　produced　anything　of　lasting　value。　But　unlike　the　paintings　he'd　forged；　maps　weren't　cursed　by　the　notion　of　a　definitive　original。　They　grew　in　the　copying；　as　their　inaccuracies　were　corrected；　their　empty　spaces　filled；　their　legends　redevised。　And　even　when　all　the　corrections　had　been　made；　to　the　finest　detail；　they　could　still　never　be　cursed　with　the　word　finished；　because　their　subject　continued　to　change。　Rivers　widened　and　meandered；　or　dried　up　altogether；　islands　rose　and　sank　again；　even　mountains　moved。　By　their　very　nature；　maps　were　always　works　in　progress；　and　Gentle…his　resolve　strengthened　by　thinking　of　them　that　way…decided　after　many　months　of　delay　to　turn　his　hand　to　making　one。
　Occasionally　along　the　road　they'd　meet　an　individual　who；　in　ignorance　of　his　audience；　would　boast　some　association　with　the　Fifth's　most　celebrated　son；　the　Maestro　Sartori；　and　would　proceed　to　tell　Gentle　and　Monday　about　the　great　man。　The　accounts　varied；　especially　when　it　came　to　talk　of　his　panion。　Some　said　he'd　had　a　beautiful　woman　at　his　side；　some　his　brother；　called　Pie；　others　still　（these　the　least　numerous）　told　of　a　mystif。　At　first　it　was　all　Monday　could　do　not　to　blurt　the　truth；　but　Gentle　had　insisted　from　the　outset　that　he　wanted　to　travel　incognito；　and　having　been　sworn　to　secrecy　the　boy　was　as　good　as　his　word。　He　kept　his　silence　while　wild　tales　of　the　Maestro's　doings　were　told：　marriages　celebrated　on　the　ceiling；　copses　springing　up　overnight　where　he'd　slept；　women　made　pregnant　drinking　from　his　cup。　The　fact　that　he'd　bee　a　figment　of　the　popular　imagination　amused　Gentle　at　first；　but　after　a　time　it　began　to　weigh　on　him。　He　felt　like　a　ghost　among　these　living　versions　of　himself；　invisible　among　the　listeners　who　gathered　to　hear　tales　of　his　exploits；　the　details　of　which　were　embroidered　and　embellished　with　every　telling。
　There　was　some　fort　in　the　fact　that　he　was　not　the　only　character　around　whom　such　parables　occurred。　There　were　other　fables　alive　in　the　air　between　the　ears　and　tongues　of　the　populace；　which　the　pilgrims　were　usually　told　when　they　asked　after　Jude　and　Hoi…Polloi：　tales　of　miraculous　women。　A　whole　new　nomadic　tribe　had　appeared　in　the　Dominions　since　the　fall　of　Yzordderrex。　Women　of　power　were　abroad；　rising　to　the　occasion　of　their　liberation；　and　rites　they'd　only　practiced　at　the　hearth　and　cot　were　now　performed　in　the　open　air　for　all　to　see。　But　unlike　the　stories　of　the　Maestro　Sartori；　most　of　which　were　pure　invention；　Gentle　and　Monday　saw　ample　evidence　that　the　stories　concerning　these　women　were　rooted　in　truth。　In　the　province　around　Maike；　for　instance；　which　had　been　a　dust　bowl　during　Gentle's　first　pilgrimage；　they　found　fields　green　with　the　first　crop　in　six　seasons；　courtesy　of　a　woman　who'd　sniffed　out　the　course　of　an　underground　river　and　coaxed　it　to　the　surface　with　sways　and　supplications。　In　the　temples　of　L'Himby　a　sibyl　had　carved　from　a　solid　slab…using　only　her　finger　and　her　spittle…a　representation　of　the　city　as　she　prophesied　it　would　be　in　a　year's　time；　her　prophecy　so　mesmeric　that　her　audience　had　gone　out　of　the　temple　that　very　hour　and　had　torn　down　the　trash　that　had　disfigured　their　city。　In　the　Kwem…where　Gentle　took　Monday　in　the　hope　of　finding　Scopique…they　found　instead　that　the　once　shallow　pit　where　the　Pivot　had　stood　was　now　a　lake；　its　waters　crystalline　but　its　bottom　hidden　by　the　congregation　of　life　that　was　forming　in　it：　birds；　mostly；　which　rose　in　sudden　excited　flocks；　fully　feathered　and　ready　for　the　sky。
　Here　they　had　a　chance　to　meet　the　miracle　worker；　for　the　woman　who'd　made　these　waters　（literally；　her　acolytes　said；　it　was　the　pissing　of　a　single　night）　had　taken　up　residence　in　the　blackened　husk　of　the　Kwem　Palace。　In　the　hope　of　gleaning　some　clue　to　Jude　and　Hoi…Polloi's　whereabouts；　Gentle　ventured　into　the　shadows　to　find　the　lake　maker；　and　though　she　refused　to　show　herself　she　answered　his　inquiry。　No；　she　hadn't　seen　a　pair　of　travelers　such　as　he　described；　but　yes；　she　could　tell　him　where　they'd　gone。　There　were　only　two　directions　for　wandering　women　these　days；　she　explained：　out　of　Yzordderrex　and　into　it。
　He　thanked　her　for　this　information　and　asked　her　if　there　was　anything　he　could　do　for　her　in　return。　She　told　him　that　there　was　nothing　she　wanted　from　him　personally；　but　she'd　be　very　glad　of　the　pany　of　his　boy　for　an　hour　or　two。　Somewhat　chagrined；　Gentle　went　out　and　asked　Monday　if　he　was　willing　to　chance　the　woman's　embrace　for　a　while。　He　said　he　was　and　left　the　Maestro　to　find　himself　a　seat　by　the　bird…breeding　lake　while　he　ventured　into　its　maker's　boudoir。　It　was　the　first　time　in　Gentle's　life　that　any　woman　in　search　of　sexual　attentions　had　passed　him　over　for　another。　If　ever　he'd　needed　proof　that　his　day　was　done；　it　was　here。
　When；　after　two　hours；　Monday　reappeared　（with　a　flushed　face　and　ringing　ears）；　it　was　to　find　Gentle　sitting　at　the　lakeside；　long　ago　tired　of　working　on　his　map；　surrounded　by　several　small　cairns　of　pebbles。
　〃What　are　these？〃　the　boy　said。
　〃I've　been　counting　my　romances；〃　Gentle　replied。　〃Each　one　of　them　is　a　hundred　women。〃
　There　were　seven　cairns。
　〃Is　that　them　all？〃　Monday　said。
　〃It's　all　that　I　remember。〃
　Monday　squatted　down　beside　the　stones。　〃I　bet　you'd　like　to　love　them　all　over　again；〃　he　said。
　Gentle　thought　about　this　for　a　little　time　and　finally　said；　〃No。　I　don't　think　so。　I've　done　my　best　work。　It's　time　to　leave　it　to　the　younger　men。〃
　He　tossed　the　stone　he　had　in　hand　out　into　the　middle　of　the　teeming　lake。
　〃Before　you