cb.imajica1-第74部分

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all　behind　the　table　hung　a　painting　of　a　small　child；　so　wretchedly　rendered　the　subject's　sex　was　indeterminate。　To　the　left　of　the　picture；　which　was　signed　Aping；　lay　another　door；　as　securely　closed　as　the　one　he'd　just　passed　through。　But　there　was　a　voice　audible　from　the　far　side：　Vigor　N'ashap；　in　a　little　ecstasy。
　〃Again！　Again！〃　he　was　saying；　then　an　outpouring　in　a　foreign　tongue；　followed　by　cries　of　〃Yes！〃　and　〃There！　There！〃
　Gentle　went　to　the　door　too　quickly　to　prepare　himself　for　what　lay　on　the　other　side。　Even　if　he　had…even　if　he'd　conjured　the　sight　of　N'ashap　with　his　breeches　down　and　his　Oethac　prick　purple…he　could　not　have　imagined　Pie　loh'　pah's　condition；　given　that　in　all　their　months　together　he　had　never　once　seen　the　mystif　naked。　Now　he　did；　and　the　shock　of　its　beauty　was　second　only　to　that　of　its　humiliation。　It　had　a　body　as　serene　as　its　face；　and　as　ambiguous；　even　in　plain　sight。　There　was　no　hair　on　any　part　of　it；　nor　nipples；　nor　navel。　Between　its　legs；　however；　which　were　presently　spread　as　it　knelt　in　front　of　N'ashap；　was　the　source　of　its　transforming　self；　the　core　its　couplers　touched　with　thought。　It　was　neither　phallic　nor　vaginal；　but　a　third　genital　form　entirely；　fluttering　at　its　groin　like　an　agitated　dove　and　with　every　flutter　reconfiguring　its　glistening　heart；　so　that　Gentle；　mesmerized；　found　a　fresh　echo　in　；　each　motion。　His　own　flesh　was　mirrored　there；　unfolding　as　it　passed　between　Dominions。　So　was　the　sky　above　Patashoqua　and　the　sea　beyond　the　shuttered　window；　turning　its　solid　back　to　living　water。　And　breath；　blown　into　a　closed　fist；　and　the　power　breaking　from　it：　all　there；　all　there。
　N'ashap　was　disdainful　of　the　sight。　Perhaps；　in　his　heat；　he　didn't　even　see　it。　He　had　the　rnystif　s　head　clamped　between　his　scarred　hands　and　was　pushing　the　sharp　tip　of　his　member　into　its　mouth。　The　mystif　made　no　objection。　Its　hands　hung　by　its　sides；　until　N'ashap　demanded　their　attention　upon　his　shaft。　Gentle　could　bear　the　sight　no　longer。　He　pitched　his　mind　across　the　room　towards　the　Oethac's　back。　Hadn't　he　heard　Scopique　say　that　thought　was　power？　If　so；　Gentle　thought；　I'm　a　mote；　diamond　hard。　Gentle　heard　N'ashap　gasp　with　pleasure　as　he　pierced　the　mystif's　throat；　then　he　struck　the　Oethac's　skull。　The　room　disappeared；　and　hot　meat　pressed　on　him　from　all　sides；　but　his　momentum　carried　him　out　the　other　side；　and　he　turned　to　see　N'ashap's　hands　go　from　the　mystif's　head　to　his　own；　a　shriek　of　pain　ing　from　his　lipless　mouth。
　Pie's　face；　slack　until　now；　filled　with　alarm　as　blood　poured　from　N'ashap's　nostrils。　Gentle　felt　a　thrill　of　satisfaction　at　the　sight；　but　the　mystif　rose　and　went　to　the　officer's　assistance；　picking　up　a　piece　…of　its　own　discarded　clothing　to　help　staunch　the　flow。　N'ashap　twice　waved　its　help　away　at　first；　but　Pie's　pliant　voice　softened　him；　and　after　a　time　the　captain　sank　back　in　his　cushioned　chair　and　allowed　himself　to　be　tended。　The　mystif　s　cooings　and　caresses　were　almost　as　distressing　to　Gentle　as　the　scene　he'd　just　interrupted；　and　he　retreated；　confounded　and　repulsed；　first　to　the　door；　then　through　it　into　the　antechamber。
　There　he　lingered；　his　sight　fixed　upon　Aping's　picture。　In　the　room　behind　him；　N'ashap　had　begun　to　moan　again。　The　sound　drove　Gentle　out；　through　the　labyrinth　and　back　to　his　room。　Scopique　and　Aping　had　laid　his　body　back　on　the　bed。　His　face　was　devoid　of　expression；　and　one　of　his　arms　had　slid　from　his　chest　and　hung　off　the　edge　of　the　boards。　He　looked　dead　already。　Was　it　any　wonder　Pie's　devotion　had　bee　so　mechanical；　when　all　it　had　before　it　to　inspire　hope　of　recovery　was　this　gaunt　mannequin；　day　in；　day　out？　He　drew　closer　to　the　body；　half　tempted　never　to　enter　it　again；　to　let　it　wither　and　die。　But　there　was　too　much　risk　in　that。　Suppose　his　present　state　was　conditional　upon　the　continuance　of　his　physical　self？　Thought　without　flesh　was　certainly　possible…he'd　heard　Scopique　pronounce　on　the　subject　in　this　very　cell…　but　not；　he　guessed；　for　spirits　so　unevolved　as　his。　Skin；　blood；　and　bone　were　the　school　in　which　the　soul　learned　flight；　and　he　was　still　too　much　a　fledgling　to　dare　truancy。　He　had　to　go；　vile　as　that　notion　was；　back　behind　the　eyes。
　He　went　one　more　time　to　the　window　and　looked　out　at　the　glittering　sea。　The　sight　of　its　waves　beating　at　the　rocks　below　brought　back　the　terror　of　his　drowning。　He　felt　the　living　waters　squirming　around　him；　pressing　at　his　lips　like　N'ashap's　prick；　demanding　he　open　up　and　swallow。　In　horror；　he　turned　from　the　sight　and　crossed　the　room　at　speed；　striking　his　brow　like　a　bullet。　Returning　into　his　substance　with　the　images　of　N'ashap　and　sea　on　his　mind；　he　prehended　instantly　the　nature　of　his　sickness。　Sco…pique　had　been　wrong；　all　wrong！　There　was　a　solid…oh；　so　solid…physiological　reason　for　his　inertia。　He　felt　it　in　his　belly　now；　wretchedly　real。　He'd　swallowed　some　of　the　waters　and　they　were　still　inside　him；　living；　prospering　at　his　expense。
　Before　intellect　could　caution　him　he　let　his　revulsion　loose　upon　his　body；　threw　his　demands　into　each　extremity。　Move！　he　told　them；　move！　He　fueled　his　rage　with　the　thought　of　N'ashap　using　him　as　he'd　used　Pie；　imagining　the　Oethac's　semen　in　his　belly。　His　left　hand　found　power　enough　to　take　hold　of　the　bed　board；　its　purchase　sufficient　to　pull　him　over。　He　toppled　onto　his　side；　then　off　the　bed　entirely；　hitting　the　floor　hard。　The　impact　dislodged　something　in　the　base　of　his　belly。　He　felt　it　scrabble　to　catch　hold　of　his　innards　again；　its　motion　violent　enough　to　throw　him　around　like　a　sack　full　of　thrashing　fish；　each　twist　unseating　the　parasite　a　little　more　and　in　turn　releasing　his　body　from　its　tyranny。　His　joints　cracked　like　walnut　shells；　his　sinews　stretched　and　shortened。　It　was　agony；　and　he　longed　to　shriek　his　plaint；　but　all　he　could　manage　was　a　retching　sound。　It　was　still　music：　the　first　sound　he'd　made　since　the　yell　he'd　given　as　the　Cradle　swallowed　him　up。　It　was　short…lived；　however。　His　wracked　system　was　pushing　the　parasite　up　from　his　stomach。　He　felt　it　in　his　chest；　like　a　meal　of　hooks　he　longed　to　vomit　up　but　could　not；　for　fear　he'd　turn　himself　inside　out　in　the　attempt。　It　seemed　to　know　they'd　reached　an　impasse；　because　its　flailing　slowed；　and　he　had　time　to　draw　a　desperate　breath　through　pipes　half　clogged　by　its　presence。　With　his　lungs　as　full　as　he　had　hope　of　getting　them；　he　hauled　himself　up　off　the　ground　by　clinging　to　the　bed；　and　before　the　parasite　had　time　to　incapacitate　him　with　a　fresh　assault　he　stood　to　his　full　height；　then　threw　himself　face　down。　As　he　hit　the　ground　the　thing　came　up　into　his　throat　and　mouth　in　a　surge；　and　he　reached　between　his　teeth　to　snatch　it　out　of　him。　It　came　with　two　pulls；　fighting　to　the　end　to　crawl　back　down　his　gullet。　It　was　followed　immediately　by　his　last　meal。
　Gasping　for　air　he　dragged　himself　upright　and　leaned　against　the　bed；　strings　of　puke　hanging　from　his　chin。　The　thing　on　the　floor　flapped　and　flailed；　and　he　let　it　suffer。　Though　it　had　felt　huge　when　inside　。him；　it　was　no　bigger　than　his　hand：　a　formless　scrap　of　milky　flesh　and　silver　vein　with　limbs　no　thicker　than　string　but　fully　twenty　in　number。　It　made　no　sound；　except　for　the　slap　its　spasms　made　in　the　bilious　mess　on　the　cell　floor。
　Too　weak　to　move；　Gentle　was　still　slumped　against　the　bed　when；　some　minutes　later；　Scopique　came　back　to　look　for　Pie。　Scopique's　astonishment　knew　no　bounds。　He　called　for　help；　then　hoisted　Gentle　back　onto　the　bed；　question　following　question　so　fast　Gentle　barely　had　breath　or　energy　to　answer。　But　sufficient　was　municated　for　Scopique　to　berate　himself　for　not　grasping　the　problem　earlier。
　〃I　thought　it　was　in　your　head；　Zacharias；　and　all　the　time…all　the　time　it　was　in　your　belly。　This　bastard　thing！〃
　Aping　arrived；　and　there　was　a　new　round　of　questions；　answered　this　time　by　Scopique；　who　then　went　off　in　search　of　Pie；　leaving　the　guard　to　arrange　for　the　filth　on　the　floor　to　be　cleaned　up　and　the　patient　brought　fresh　water　and　clean　clothes。
　〃Is　there　anything　else　you　need？〃　Aping　wanted　to　know。
　〃Food；〃　Gentle　said。　His　belly　had　never　felt　emptier。
　〃It'll　be　arranged。　It's　strange　to　hear　your　voice　and　see　you　move。　I　got　used　to　you　the　other　way。〃　He　smiled。　〃When　you're　feeling　stronger；〃　he　said；　〃we　must　find　some　time　to　talk。　I　hear　from　the　mystif　you're　a　painter。〃
　〃I　was；　yes；〃　said　Gentle；　adding　an　innocent　inquiry。　〃Why？　Are　you？〃
　Aping　beamed。　〃I　am；〃　he　said。
　〃Then　we　must　talk；〃　Gentle　said。　〃What　do　you　paint？〃
　〃Landscapes。　Some　figures。〃
　〃Nudes？　Portraits？〃　〃Children。〃
　〃Ah；　children　。　。　。　do　you　have　any　yourself？〃
　A　trace　of　anxiety　crossed　Aping's　face。　〃Later；〃　he　said；　glancing　out　towards　the　corridor；　then　back　at　Gentle。　〃In　private。〃
　〃I'm　at　your　disposal；〃　Gentle　replied。
　There　were　voices　outside　the　room。　Scopique　returning　with　N'ashap；　who　glanced　down　into　the　bucket　containing　the　parasite　as　he　entered。　There　were　more　questions；　or　rather　the　same　rephrased；　and　answered　on　this　third　occasion　by　both　Scopique　and　Aping；　N