cb.imajica1-第29部分

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e　and　waited　for　Dowd　to　instruct　them。　Oscar　was　less　than　fortable　in　their　pany；　but　could　not　bring　himself　to　leave　until　this　business　was　finished。　He'd　brought　a　book　to　read：　a　cricket　almanac　that　he　found　soothing　to　peruse。　Every　now　and　then　he'd　get　up　and　refuel　the　bowls。　Otherwise　there　was　little　to　do　but　wait。
　It　had　already　been　a　day　and　a　half　since　he'd　made　such　a　show　of　taking　Dowd's　life：　a　performance　of　which　he　was　justly　proud。　But　the　casualty　that　lay　before　him　was　a　real　loss。　Dowd　had　been　passed　down　the　line　of　Godolphins　for　two　centuries；　bound　to　them　until　the　end　of　time　or　of　Joshua's　line；　whichever　came　first。　And　he　had　been　a　fine　manservant。　Who　else　could　mix　a　whisky　and　soda　so　well？　Who　else　knew　to　dry　and　powder　between　Oscar's　toes　with　special　care；　because　he　was　prone　to　fungal　infections　there？　Dowd　was　irreplaceable；　and　it　had　pained　Oscar　considerably　to　take　the　brutal　measures　circumstance　had　demanded。　But　he'd　done　so　knowing　that　while　there　was　a　slim　possibility　that　he　would　lose　his　servant　forever；　an　entity　such　as　Dowd　could　survive　a　disemboweling　as　long　as　the　rituals　of　Resurrection　were　readily　and　precisely　followed。　Oscar　was　not　in　ignorance　of　those　rituals。　He'd　spent　many　lazy　Yzordderrexian　evenings　on　the　roof　of　Peccable's　house；　watching　the　tail　of　the　et　disappear　behind　the　towers　of　the　Autarch's　palace；　talking　about　the　theory　and　practice　of　Imajical　feits；　writs；　pneumas；　uredos；　and　the　rest。　He　knew　the　oils　to　pour　into　Dowd's　carcass；　and　what　blossoms　to　burn　around　the　body。　He　even　had　in　his　treasure　room　a　phonetic　version　of　the　ritual；　set　down　by　Peccable　himself；　in　case　Dowd　was　ever　harmed。　He　had　no　idea　how　long　the　process　would　take；　but　he　knew　better　than　to　peer　beneath　the　sheet　to　see　if　the　bread　of　life　was　rising。　He　could　only　bide　his　time　and　hope　he'd　done　all　that　was　necessary。
　At　four　minutes　past　four；　he　had　proof　of　his　precision。　A　choking　breath　was　drawn　beneath　the　sheet；　and　a　second　later　Dowd　sat　up。　The　motion　was　so　sudden；　and…　after　such　a　time…so　unexpected；　Oscar　panicked；　his　chair　tipping　over　as　he　rose；　the　almanac　flying　from　his　hand。　He'd　seen　much　in　his　time　that　the　people　of　the　Fifth　would　call　miraculous；　but　not　in　a　dismal　room　like　this；　with　the　monplace　world　grinding　on　its　way　outside　the　door。　posing　himself；　he　searched　for　a　word　of　wele；　but　his　mouth　was　so　dry　he　could　have　blotted　a　letter　with　his　tongue。　He　simply　stared；　gaping　and　amazed。
　Dowd　had　pulled　the　sheet　off　his　face　and　was　studying　the　hand　with　which　he'd　done　so；　his　face　as　empty　as　the　eyes　of　the　voiders　sitting　against　the　opposite　wall。
　I've　made　a　terrible　error；　Oscar　thought。　I've　brought　back　the　body；　but　the　soul's　gone　out　of　him：　Oh；　Christ；　what　now？
　Dowd　stared　on；　blankly。　Then；　like　a　puppet　into　which　a　hand　has　been　inserted；　bringing　the　illusion　of　life　and　independent　purpose　to　senseless　stuff；　he　raised　his　head；　and　his　face　filled　with　expression。　It　was　all　anger。　He　narrowed　his　eyes　and　bared　his　teeth　as　he　spoke。
　〃You　did　me　a　great　wrong；〃　he　said。　〃A　terrible　wrong。〃
　Oscar　worked　up　some　spittle；　thick　as　mud。　〃I　did　what　I　deemed　necessary；〃　he　replied；　determined　not　to　be　cowed　by　the　creature。　It　had　been　bound　by　Joshua　never　to　do　a　Godolphin　harm；　much　as　it　might　presently　wish　to。
　〃What　have　I　ever　done　to　you　that　you　humiliate　me　that　way？〃　Dowd　said。
　〃I　had　to　prove　my　allegiance　to　the　Tabula　Rasa。　You　understand　why。〃
　〃And　must　I　continue　to　be　humiliated？〃　he　said。　〃Can　I　not　at　least　have　something　to　wear？〃
　〃Your　suit's　stained。〃
　〃It's　better　than　nothing；〃　Dowd　replied。
　The　garments　lay　on　the　floor　a　few　feet　from　where　Dowd　sat；　but　he　made　no　move　to　pick　them　up。　Aware　that　Dowd　was　testing　the　limits　of　his　master's　remorse；　but　willing　to　play　the　game　for　a　while　at　least；　Oscar　picked　up　the　clothes　and　laid　them　within　Dowd's　reach。
　〃I　knew　a　knife　wasn't　going　to　kill　you；〃　he　said。
　〃It's　more　than　I　did；〃　Dowd　replied。　〃But　that's　not　the　point。　I　would　have　entered　the　game　with　you　if　that's　what　you'd　wanted。　Happily；　slavishly。　Entered　and　died　for　you。〃　His　tone　was　that　of　a　man　deeply　and　inconsola…Wy　affronted。　〃Instead；　you　conspire　against　me。　You　make　me　suffer　like　a　mon　criminal。〃
　〃I　couldn't　afford　for　it　to　look　like　a　charade。　If　they'd　suspected　it　was　stage…managed…〃
　〃Oh；　I　see；〃　Dowd　replied。　Unwittingly　Oscar　had　caused　even　greater　offense　with　this　justification。　〃You　didn't　trust　my　actorly　instincts。　I've　played　every　lead　Quexos　wrote：　edy；　tragedy；　farce。　And　you　didn't　trust　me　to　carry　off　a　petty　little　death　scene！〃
　〃All　right；　I　was　mistaken。〃
　〃I　thought　the　knife　stung　badly　enough。　But　this…〃
　〃Please；　accept　my　apologies。　It　was　crude　and　hurtful。　What　can　I　do　to　heal　the　harm；　eh？　Name　it；　Dowdy。　I　feel　I've　violated　the　trust　between　us　and　I　have　to　make　good。　Whatever　you　want；　just　name　it。〃
　Dowd　shook　his　head。　〃It's　not　as　easy　as　that。〃
　〃I　know。　But　it's　a　start。　Name　it。〃
　Dowd　considered　the　offer　for　a　full　minute；　staring　not　at　Oscar　but　the　blank　wall。　Finally；　he　said；　〃I'll　start　with　the　assassin；　Pie　'oh'　pah。〃
　〃What　do　you　want　with　a　mystif？〃
　〃I　want　to　torment　it。　I　want　to　humiliate　it。　And　finally；　I　want　to　kill　it。〃
　〃Why？〃
　〃You　offered　me　whatever　I　wanted。　Name　it；　you　said。　I've　named　it。〃
　〃Then　you　have　carte　blanche　to　do　whatever　you　wish；〃　Oscar　said。　〃Is　that　all？〃
　〃For　now；〃　Dowd　said。　〃I'm　sure　something　more　will　occur。　Death's　put　some　strange　ideas　in　my　head。　But　I'll　name　them　as　time　goes　by。〃
　
　
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　While　it　was　to　prove　difficult　for　Gentle　to　prize　from　Es…tabrook　the　details　of　the　night　journey　that　had　taken　him　to　Pie　（oh'　pah；　it　was　not　as　difficult　as　getting　in　to　see　the　man　in　the　first　place。　He　went　to　the　house　around　noon；　to　find　the　curtains　at　all　the　windows　meticulously　drawn。　He　knocked　and　rang　the　bell　for　several　minutes；　but　there　was　no　reply。　Assuming　Estabrook　had　gone　out　for　a　constitutional；　he　left　off　his　attempt　and　went　to　find　something　to　put　into　his　stomach；　which　after　being　so　thoroughly　scorned　the　night　before　was　echoing　with　its　own　emptiness。　It　was　Boxing　Day；　of　course；　and　there　was　no　cafe　or　restaurant　open；　but　he　located　a　small　supermarket　managed　by　a　family　of　Pakistanis；　who　were　doing　a　fine　trade　supplying　Christians　with　stale　bread　to　break。　Though　the　stock　had　disappeared　from　many　of　the　shelves；　the　store　still　had　a　tempting　parade　of　tooth　decayers；　and　Gentle　left　with　chocolate；　biscuits；　and　cake　to　satisfy　his　sweet　tooth。　He　found　a　bench　and　sat　down　to　subdue　his　hunger。　The　cake　was　too　moist　and　heavy　for　his　taste；　so　he　broke　it　up　into　pieces　and　threw　it　to　the　pigeons　his　meal　had　attracted。　The　news　soon　spread　that　there　was　sustenance　to　be　had；　and　what　had　been　an　intimate　picnic　quickly　turned　into　a　squabbling　match。　In　lieu　of　loaves　and　fishes　to　subdue　the　mob；　Gentle　tossed　the　rest　of　his　biscuits　into　the　midst　of　the　feasters　and　returned　to　Estabrook's　house　content　with　his　chocolate。　As　he　approached　he　saw　a　motion　at　one　of　the　upper　windows。　He　didn't　bother　to　ring　and　knock　this　time；　but　simply　called　up　at　the　window。
　〃I　want　a　word；　Charlie！　I　know　you're　in　there。　Open　up！〃
　When　there　was　no　sign　of　Estabrook　obliging；　he　let　his　voice　ring　out　a　little　louder。　There　was　very　little　petition　from　traffic；　this　being　a　holiday。　His　call　was　a　clarion。
　〃e　on；　Charlie；　open　up；　unless　you　want　me　to　tell　the　neighbors　about　our　little　deal。〃
　The　curtain　was　drawn　aside　this　time；　and　Gentle　had　his　first　sight　of　Estabrook。　A　glimpse　only；　for　the　curtain　was　dropped　back　into　place　a　moment　later。　Gentle　waited；　and　just　as　he　was　about　to　start　his　haranguing　afresh　heard　the　front　door　being　unbolted。　Estabrook　appeared；　barefoot　and　bald。　The　latter　was　a　shock。　Gentle　hadn't　known　the　man　wore　a　toupe〃e。　Without　it　his　face　was　as　round　and　white　as　a　plate；　his　features　set　upon　it　like　a　child's　breakfast。　Eggs　for　eyes；　a　tomato　nose；　sausage　lips：　all　swimming　in　a　grease　of　fear。
　〃It's　time　we　talked；〃　Gentle　said　and；　without　waiting　for　anjnvitation；　stepped　inside。
　He　pulled　no　punches　in　his　interrogation；　making　it　plain　from　the　outset　that　this　was　no　social　call。　He　needed　to　know　where　to　find　Pie　'oh'　pah；　and　he　wasn't　going　to　be　fobbed　off　with　excuses。　To　aid　Estabrook's　memory　he'd　brought　a　battered　street　map　of　London。　He　set　it　down　on　the　table　between　them。
　〃Now；〃　he　said。　〃We　sit　here　until　you've　told　where　you　went　that　night。　And　if　you　lie　to　me　I　swear　I'm'going　to　e　back　and　break　your　neck。〃
　Estabrook　didn't　attempt　any　obfuscation。　His　manner　was　that　of　a　man　who　had　passed　many　days　in　terror　of　a　sound　upon　his　step　and　was　relieved；　now　that　it　had　e；　that　his　caller　was　merely　human。　His　egg　eyes　were　perpetually　on　the　verge　of　breaking；　and　his　hands　trembled　as　he　flipped　the　pages　of　the　gazetteer；　murmuring　as　he　did　so　that　he　was　sure　of　nothing　but　he　would　try　to　remember。　Gentle　didn't