cb.imajica2-第82节

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yes　opened。　He　squinted　against　the　sky；　his　laughter　faltering。
　〃Where'd　the　rain　go？〃　he　said。　〃There　was　no　rain。〃
　〃What　do　you　call　this；　boss？〃　Monday　said；　proffering　arms　from　which　the　last　of　the　waters　still　ran。　〃Take　it　from　me；　it　wasn't　rain。〃
　〃Whatever　it　was；　it　was　fine　by　me；〃　Monday　said。　He　hauled　his　sodden　T…shirt　up　over　his　head　and　used　it　as　a　mop　to　wipe　his　face。　〃Are　you　all　right；　boss？〃
　Gentle　was　scanning　the　street；　looking　for　some　sign　of　the　Goddess。
　〃I　will　be；〃　he　said。　〃You　go　back　to　work；　huh？　You　haven't　decorated　the　door　yet。〃　〃What　do　you　want　on　it？〃
　〃You're　the　artist；〃　Gentle　said；　distracted　from　the　conversation　by　the　state　of　the　street。
　He　hadn't　realized　until　now　how　full　of　presences　it　had　bee；　the　revenants　not　simply　occupying　the　pavement　but　hovering　in　the　wilted　foliage　like　hanged　men　or　keeping　their　vigils　on　the　eaves。　They　were　benign　enough；　he　thought。　They　had　good　reason　to　wish　him　well　in　this　endeavor。　Half　a　year　ago；　on　the　night　he　and　Pie　had　left　on　their　travels；　the　mystif　had　given　Gentle　a　grim　lesson　in　the　pain　that　the　spirits　of　this　and　every　other　Dominion　suffered。
　〃No　spirit　is　happy；〃　Pie　had　said。　〃They　haunt　the　doors；　waiting　to　leave；　but　there's　nowhere　for　them　to　go。〃
　But　hadn't　there　been　some　hope　mooted　then；　that　at　the　end　of　the　journey　ahead　lay　a　solution　to　the　anguish　of　the　dead？　Pie　had　known　that　solution　even　then；　and　must　have　longed　to　call　Gentle　Reconciler；　to　tell　him　that　the　wit　lay　somewhere　in　his　head　to　open　the　doors　at　which　the　dead　stood　waiting　and　let　them　into　Heaven。
　〃Be　patient；〃　he　murmured；　knowing　the　revenants　heard。　〃It'll　be　soon；　I　swear。　It'll　be　soon。〃
　The　sun　was　drying　the　Goddess's　rain　from　his　face；　and；　happy　to　stay　out　in　the　heat　until　he　was　dry；　he　wandered　away　from　the　house；　while　Monday　resumed　his　whistling　on　the　step。　What　a　place　this　had　bee；　Gentle　thought：　angels　in　the　house　behind　him；　lascivious　rains　in　the　street；　ghosts　in　the　trees。　And　he；　the　Maestro；　wandering　among　them；　ready　to　do　the　deed　that　would　change　their　worlds　forever。　There　would　never　be　such　a　day　again。
　His　optimistic　mood　darkened；　however；　as　he　approached　the　end　of　the　street；　for　other　than　the　sound　of　his　footsteps；　and　the　shrill　noise　of　Monday's　whistle；　the　world　was　absolutely　quiet。　The　alarms　that　had　raised　such　a　din　earlier　in　the　day　were　now　hushed。　No　bell　rang；　no　voice　cried　out。　It　was　as　if　all　life　beyond　this　thoroughfare　had　taken　a　vow　of　silence。　He　picked　up　his　pace。　Either　his　agitation　was　contagious　or　else　the　revenants　that　lingered　at　the　end　of　the　street　were　more　jittery　than　those　closer　to　the　house。　They　milled　around；　their　numbers；　and　perhaps　their　unease；　sufficient　to　disturb　the　baked　dust　in　the　gutter。　They　made　no　attempt　to　impede　his　progress　but　parted　like　a　cold　curtain；　allowing　him　to　step　over　the　invisible　boundary　of　Gamut　Street。　He　looked　in　both　directions。　The　dogs　that　had　gathered　here　for　a　time　had　gone；　the　birds　had　fled　every　eave　and　telephone　wire。　He　held　his　breath　and　listened　through　the　whine　in　his　head　for　some　evidence　of　life：　an　engine；　a　siren；　a　shout。　But　there　was　nothing。　His　unease　now　profound；　he　glanced　back　into　Gamut　Street。　Loath　though　he　was　to　leave　it；　he　supposed　it　would　be　safe　while　the　revenants　remained　at　the　perimeter。　Though　they　were　too　insubstantial　to　protect　the　street　from　attackers；　it　was　doubtful　that　anyone　would　dare　enter　while　they　milled　and　churned　at　the　corner。　Taking　that　small　fort；　he　headed　towards　Gray's　Inn　Road；　his　walk　being　a　run　as　he　went。　The　heat　was　less　wele　now。　It　made　his　legs　heavy　and　his　lungs　burn。　But　he　didn't　slacken　his　pace　until　he　reached　the　intersection。
　Gray's　Inn　Road　and　High　Holborn　were　two　of　the　city's　major　conduits。　Had　he　stood　at　this　corner　on　the　coldest　December　midnight；　there　would　have　been　some　traffic　upon　one　or　the　other。　But　there　was　nothing　now；　nor　was　there　a　murmur　from　any　street；　square；　alleyway；　or　circus　within　earshot。　The　sphere　of　influence　that　had　left　Gamut　Street　untrammeled　for　two　centuries　had　apparently　spread；　and　if　the　citizens　of　London　were　still　in　residence　they　were　keeping　clear　of　this　harrowed　terrain。　？　And　yet；　despite　the　silence；　the　air　was　not　unfreighted。　There　was　something　else　upon　it；　which　kept　Gentle　from　turning　on　his　heel　and　wandering　back　to　Gamut　Street：　a　smell　so　subtle　that　the　tang　of　cooking　asphalt　almost　overwhelmed　it；　but　so　unmistakable　he　could　not　ignore　even　the　traces　that　came　his　way。　He　lingered　at　the　corner；　waiting　for　another　gust　of　wind。　It　came　after　a　time；　confirming　his　suspicions。　There　was　only　one　source　for　this　sickly　perfume；　and　only　one　man　in　this　city…no；　in　this　Dominion…who　had　access　to　that　source。　The　In　Ovo　had　been　opened　again；　and　this　time　the　beasts　that　had　been　called　forth　were　not　the　nonsense　stuff　he'd　encountered　at　the　tower。　These　were　of　another　magnitude　entirely。　He'd　seen　and　smelled　their　like　only　once；　two　hundred　years　before；　and　they'd　done　incalculable　mischief。　Given　that　the　breeze　was　so　languid；　their　scent　could　not　be　ing　all　the　way　from　Highgate。　Sartori　and　his　legion　were　considerably　closer　than　that：　perhaps　ten　streets　away；　perhaps　two；　perhaps　about　to　turn　the　corner　of　Gray's　Inn　Road　and　e　in　sight。
　There　was　no　time　left　for　prevarication。　Whatever　danger　Jude　had　discovered；　or　believed　she'd　discovered；　it　was　notional。　This　scent；　on　the　other　hand；　and　the　entities　that　oozed　it；　were　not。　He　could　not　afford　to　delay　his　final　preparations　any　longer。　He　forsook　his　watching　place　and　started　back　toward　the　house　as　though　these　hordes　were　already　on　his　heels。　The　revenants　scattered　as　he　rounded　the　er　and　raced　down　the　street。　Monday　was　working　on　the　door；　but　he　dropped　his　colors　as　he　heard　the　Maestro's　summons。
　〃It's　time；　boy！〃　Gentle　yelled；　mounting　the　steps　in　a　single　bound。　〃Start　bringing　the　stones　upstairs。〃
　〃We're　starting？〃
　〃We're　starting。〃
　Monday　grinned；　whooped；　and　ducked　into　the　house；　leaving　Gentle　to　pause　and　admire　what　now　adorned　the　door。　It　was　just　a　sketch　as　yet；　but　the　boy's　draftsmanship　was　sufficient　for　his　purpose。　He'd　drawn　an　enormous　eye；　with　beams　of　light　emanating　from　it　in　all　directions。　Gentle　stepped　into　the　house；　pleased　at　the　thought　that　this　burning　gaze　would　greet　anyone；　friend　or　foe；　who　came　to　the　threshold。　Then　he　closed　the　door　and　bolted　it。　When　I　next　step　out；　he　thought；　the　work　of　my　Father　will　be　done。
　
　
　21
　
　WHATEVER　DEBATES　AND　QUARRELS　went　on　in　Uma　Umagammagi's　temple　while　Jude　waited　on　the　shore；　they　brought　the　procession　of　postulants　to　a　halt。　The　tide　carried　no　more　women　or　children　to　the　shore；　and　after　a　time　the　waters　became　subdued　and　finally　becalmed；　as　if　their　inspiring　forces　were　so　preoccupied　that　all　other　matters　had　bee　inconsequential。　Without　a　watch　Jude　could　only　guess　at　how　long　a　time　passed　while　she　waited；　but　occasional　glances　up　at　the　et　showed　her　that　it　was　to　be　measured　in　hours　rather　than　minutes。　Did　the　Goddesses　fully　prehend　how　urgent　a　business　this　was；　she　wondered；　or　had　the　ages　they'd　spent　in　captivity　and　exile　so　slowed　their　sensibilities　that　their　debate　might　last　days　and　they　not　realize　how　much　time　had　passed？
　She　blamed　herself　for　not　making　the　urgency　。of　this　more　plain　to　them。　The　day　would　be　creeping　on　in　the　Fifth；　and　even　if　Gentle　had　been　persuaded　to　postpone　his　preparations　for　a　time；　he　would　not　do　so　indefinitely。　Nor　could　she　blame　him。　All　he　had　was　a　message…　brought　by　a　less　than　reliable　courier…that　things　were　not　safe。　That　wouldn't　be　enough　to　make　him　put　the　Reconciliation　in　jeopardy。　He　hadn't　seen　the　horrors　she'd　seen　in　the　Boston　Bowl；　so　he　had　no　real　prehension　of　what　was　at　stake　here。　He　was；　in　her　own　words；　about　his　Father's　business；　and　the　possibility　that　such　business　might　mark　the　end　of　the　Imajica　was　surely　very　far　from　his　mind。
　She　was　twice　distracted　from　these　melancholy　thoughts：　the　first　tune　when　a　young　girl　came　down　to　the　shore　to　offer　her　something　to　eat　and　drink；　which　she　gratefully　accepted；　the　second　when　nature　called　and　she　was　obliged　to　scout　around　the　island　for　a　sheltered　place　to　squat　and　empty　her　bladder。　To　be　shy　about　passing　water　in　this　place　was　of　course　absurd　and　she　knew　it；　but　she　was　still　a　woman　of　the　Fifth；　however　many　miracles　she'd　seen。　Maybe　she'd　learn　to　bee　blithe　about　such　functions　eventually；　but　it　would　take　time。
　As　she　returned　from　the　place　she'd　found　among　the　rocks；　lighter　by　a　bladderful；　the　song　at　the　temple　door；　which　had　dropped　away　to　a　murmur　and　disappeared　a　long　time　before；　began　again。　Instead　of　going　back　to　her　place　of　vigil；　she　headed　around　the　temple　to　the　door；　her　stride　lent　spring　by　the　sight　of　the　waters　in　the　basin；　which　were　stirring　from　their　inertia　and　once　again　breaking　against　the　shore。　It　seemed　the　Goddesses　had　made　their　decision。　She　wanted　to　hear　the