cb.imajica1-第101部分

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ut　by　his　lack　of　prehension　of　what　had　just　happened。　In　plain　terms；　a　child　in　his　care　had　been　slaughtered　by　her　molester；　and　he'd　failed　to　prevent　that　slaughter。　But　he'd　been　wandering　in　the　Dominions　too　long　to　be　content　with　simple　assessments。　There　was　more　here　than　stymied　lust　and　sudden　death；　Words　had　been　uttered　more　appropriate　to　pulpit　than　gutter。　Hadn't　he　himself　called　Huzzah　his　angel？　Hadn't　he　seen　her　grow　seraphic　at　the　end；　knowing　she　was　about　to　die　and　accepting　that　fate？　And　hadn't　he　in　his　turn　been　dubbed　a　deficient　savior…and　proved　that　ac…　cusation　true　by　failing　to　deliver　her？　These　were　high…　flown　words；　but　he　badly　needed　to　believe　them　apt；　not　so　that　he　could　indulge　messianic　fantasies；　but　so　that　the　grief　welling　in　him　might　be　softened　by　the　hope　that　there　was　a　higher　purpose　here；　which　in　the　fullness　of　time　he'd　e　to　know　and　understand。
　A　burst　of　fire　threw　light　down　the　alleyway；　and　Gentle's　shadow　fell　across　something　twitching　in　the　filth。　It　took　him　a　moment　to　prehend　what　he　was　seeing；　but　when　he　did　he　loosed　a　shout。　Huzzah　had　not　quite　gone。　Small　scraps　of　her　skin　and　sinew；　dropped　when　the　Nullianac's　claim　upon　her　was　cut　short；　moved　here　in　the　rot。　None　were　recognizable；　indeed；　had　they　not　been　moving　in　the　folds　of　her　bloodied　clothes　he'd　not　even　have　known　them　as　her　flesh。　He　reached　down　to　touch　them；　tears　stinging　his　eyes；　but　before　his　fingers　could　make　contact；　what　little　life　the　scraps　had　owned　went　out。
　He　rose　raging；　rose　in　horror　at　the　filth　beneath　his　feet；　and　the　dead；　empty　houses　that　channeled　it；　and　in　disgust　at　himself；　for　surviving　when　his　angel　had　not。　Turning　his　gaze　on　the　nearest　wall；　he　drew　breath　and　put　not　one　hand　but　two　against　his　lips；　intending　to　do　what　little　he　could　to　bury　these　remains。
　But　rage　and　revulsion　were　fueling　his　pneuma；　and　when　it　went　from　him　it　brought　down　not　one　wall　but　several；　passing　through　the　teetering　houses　like　a　bullet　through　a　pack　of　cards。　Shards　of　pulverized　stone　flew　as　the　houses　toppled；　the　collapse　of　one　initiating　the　fall　of　the　next；　the　dust　cloud　growing　in　scale　as　each　house　added　to　its　sum。
　He　started　up　the　alleyway　in　pursuit　of　the　pneuma；　fearing　that　his　disgust　had　given　it　more　purpose　than　he'd　intended。　It　was　heading　towards　Lickerish　Street；　where　the　crowds　were　still　milling；　oblivious　to　its　approach。　They　were　not　wandering　that　street　innocent　of　its　corruption；　of　course；　but　neither　did　their　presence　there　deserve　death。　He　wished　he　could　draw　the　breath　as　he　exhaled　it；　call　the　pneuma　back　into　himself。　But　it　had　its　head；　and　all　he　could　do　was　run　after　it　as　it　brought　down　house　after　house；　hoping　it　would　spend　its　power　before　it　reached　the　crowd。
　He　could　see　the　lights　of　Lickerish　Street　through　the　hail　of　demolition。　He　picked　up　his　pace；　to　try　and　outrun　the　pneuma；　and　was　a　little　ahead　of　it　when　he　set　eyes　on　the　throng　itself；　thicker　than　ever。　Some　had　interrupted　their　window…shopping　to　watch　the　spectacle　of　destruction。　He　saw　their　gawking　faces；　their　little　smiles；　their　shaking　heads：　saw　they　didn't　prehend　for　an　instant　what　was　ing　their　way。　Knowing　any　attempt　to　warn　them　verbally　would　be　lost　in　the　furor；　he　raced　to　the　end　of　the　alleyway　and　flung　himself　into　their　midst；　intending　to　scatter　them；　but　his　antics　only　drew　a　larger　audience；　who　were　in　turn　intrigued　by　the　alleyway's　capitulation。　One　or　two　had　grasped　their　jeopardy　now；　their　expressions　of　curiosity　bee　looks　of　fear；　finally；　too　late；　their　unease　spread　to　the　rest；　and　a　general　retreat　began。
　The　pneuma　was　too　quick；　however。　It　broke　through　the　last　of　the　walls　in　a　devastating　shower　of　rock　shards　and　splinters；　striking　the　crowd　at　its　densest　place。　Had　Hapexamendios；　in　a　fit　of　cleansing　ire；　delivered　a　judgment　on　Lickerish　Street　He　could　scarcely　have　scoured　it　better。　What　had　seconds　before　been　a　crowd　of　puzzled　sightseers　was　blood　and　bone　in　a　heartbeat。
　Though　he　stood　in　the　midst　of　this　devastation；　Gentle　remained　unharmed。　He　was　able　to　watch　his　terrible　weapon　at　work；　its　power　apparently　undecayed　despite　the　fact　that　it　had　demolished　a　string　of　houses。　Nor；　having　cut　a　swath　through　the　crowd；　was　it　following　the　trajectory　set　at　his　lips。　It　had　found　flesh　and　clearly　intended　to　busy　itself　in　the　midst　of　living　stuff　until　there　was　none　left　to　undo。
　He　was　appalled　at　the　prospect。　This　hadn't　been　his　intention；　or　anything　like　it。　There　seemed　to　be　only　one　option　available　to　him；　and　that　he　instantly　took：　he　stood　in　the　pneuma's　path。　He'd　used　the　power　in　his　lungs　many　times　now…first　against　the　Nullianac's　brother　in　Vanaeph；　then　twice　in　the　mountains；　and　finally　on　the　island；　when　they　were　making　their　escape　from　Vigor　N'ashap's　asylum…but　in　all　that　time　he'd　only　had　the　vaguest　impression　of　its　appearance。　Was　it　like　a　fire…breather's　belch；　or　like　a　bullet　made　of　will　and　air；　nearly　invisible　until　it　did　its　deed？
　Perhaps　it　had　been　the　latter　once；　but　now；　as　he　set　himself　in　its　path；　he　saw　that　it　had　gathered　dust　and　blood　along　its　route；　and　from　those…　essential　elements　it　had　made　itself　a　likeness　of　its　maker。　It　was　his　face　that　was　ing　at　him；　albeit　roughly　sculpted：　his　brow；　his　eyes；　his　open　mouth；　expelling　the　very　breath　it　had　begun　with。　It　didn't　slow　as　it　approached　its　maker；　but　struck　Gentle's　chest　the　way　it　had　struck　so　many　before　him。　He　felt　the　blow　but　was　not　felled　by　it。　Instead　the　power；　knowing　its　source；　discharged　itself　through　his　system；　running　to　his　fingertips　and　coursing　across　his　scalp。　Its　shock　was　e　and　gone　in　a　moment；　and　he　was　left　standing　in　the　middle　of　the　devastation　with　his　arms　spread　wide　and　the　dust　falling　around　him。
　Silence　followed。　Distantly；　he　could　hear　the　wounded　sobbing；　and　half…demolished　walls　going　to　rubble；　but　he　was　encircled　by　a　hush　that　was　almost　reverential。　Somebody　dropped　to　his　knees　nearby；　to　tend；　he　thought；　to　one　of　the　wounded。　Then　he　heard　the　hallelujahs　the　man　was　uttering　and　saw　his　hands　reaching　up　towards　him。　Another　of　the　crowd　followed　suit；　and　then　another；　as　though　this　scene　of　their　deliverance　was　a　sign　they'd　been　waiting　for　and　a　long…suppressed　flood　of　devotion　was　breaking　from　each　of　their　hearts。
　Sickened；　Gentle　turned　his　gaze　away　from　their　grateful　faces；　up　the　dusty　length　of　Lickerish　Street。　He　had　only　one　ambition　now：　to　find　Pie　and　take　fort　from　this　insanity　in　the　mystif　s　arms。　He　broke　from　his　ring　of　devotees　and　started　up　the　street；　ignoring　their　clinging　hands　and　cries　of　adoration。　He　wanted　to　berate　them　for　their　naivete；　but　what　good　would　that　do？　Any　pronouncement　he　made　now；　however　self…deprecatory；　would　probably　be　taken　as　the　jotting　for　some　gospel。　Instead　he　kept　his　silence　and　picked　his　way　over　the　stones　and　corpses；　his　head　down；　The　hosannas　followed　him；　but　he　didn't　once　acknowledge　them；　knowing　even　as　he　went　that　his　reluctance　might　seem　like　divine　humility；　but　unable　to　escape　the　trap　circumstance　had　set。
　The　wasteland　at　the　head　of　the　street　was　as　daunting　as　ever；　but　he　started　across　it　not　caring　what　fires　might　e。　Its　terrors　were　nothing　beside　the　memory　of　Huz…zah's　scrap；　twitching　in　the　muck；　or　the　hallelujahs　he　could　still　hear　behind　him；　raised　in　ignorance　of　the　fact　that　he…the　savior　of　Lickerish　Street…was　also　its　destroyer；　but　no　less　tempting　for　that。
　
　
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　Every　trace　of　the　joy　that　the　vast　halls　of　the　chianculi　had　once　seen…no　clowns　or　ponies；　but　circuses　such　as　any　showman　in　the　Fifth　would　have　wept　to　own…had　gone。　The　echoing　halls　had　bee　places　of　mourning　and　of　judgment。　Today；　the　accused　was　the　mystif　Pie　'oh'　pah；　its　accuser　one　of　the　few　lawyers　in　Yzordderrex　the　Autarch's　purges　had　left　alive；　an　asthmatic　and　pinched　individual　called　Thes　'reh'　ot。　He　had　an　audience　of　two　for　his　prosecution…Pie　'oh'　pah；　and　the　judge…but　he　delivered　his　litany　of　crimes　as　if　the　hall　were　full　to　the　rafters。　The　mystif　was　guilty　enough　to　warrant　a　dozen　executions；　he　said。　It　was　at　very　least　a　traitor　and　coward；　but　probably　also　an　informant　and　a　spy。　Worse；　perhaps；　it　had　abandoned　this　Dominion　for　another　without　the　consent　of　its　family　or　its　teachers；　denying　its　people　the　benefit　of　its　rarity。　Had　it　forgotten　in　its　arrogance　that　its　condition　was　sacred；　and　that　to　prostitute　itself　in　another　world　（the　Fifth；　of　all　places；　a　mire　of　unmiracu…lous　souls！）　was　not　only　a　sin　upon　itself　but　upon　its　species？　It　had　gone　from　this　place　clean　and　dared　to　return　debauched　and　corrupted；　bringing　a　creature　of　the　Fifth　with　it　and　then　freely　confessing　that　said　creature　was　its　husband。
　Pie　had　expected　to　be　met　with　some　recriminations　upon　return…the　memories　of　Eurhetemec　were　long；　and　they　clung　strongly　to　tradition　as　the　only　contact　they　had　with　the　First　Dominion…but　the　vehemence　of　this　catalogue　was　still　astonishing。　The　judge；　Culus