He was still in Serehfa, then, underneath it, within the cistern level. The port was called Oubliette. The narrow street outside looked quiet. A few lights showed behind shades on the tall, narrow buildings opposite, and down in the port he could see ships tied against the piers, container cranes swinging slowly to and fro above them, and hints of movement within pools of dim yellow light on the wharves themselves.
He let the curtain fall back, then looked around the room. There was little to search; a small bed, a seat, a table, a screen, a bedside cabinet. A notice on the back of the door said that the room was room 7, floor 7, in the Salvation Hotel.
In the cabinet’s drawer, he found a paper envelope.
On it was written, Alandre Jeovanx.
It had been his name before promotion. He tore open the envelope.
There was a single sheet of paper folded inside. Read Me, it said.
He read it.
4
Bascule, ah no dis hard 4 u, but goodness sakes bey it only a dam ant.
It woz a most special & uneek ant Mr Zoliparia I tel him & I feel responsybil 4 what hapind 2 hir.
Weer inside thi Iball ov thi septentrynal gargoil Rosbrith, in Mr Zoliparia’s study. Mr Zoliparia has a fing calld a telifone in his study u can speek in2 (didn evin no he had it - fink heez a bit embrased about it 2 tel thi troof). Nway, he juss got in tuch wif thi gard 2 report whot happind aftir Id insistid, tho heed only report that thi bird had stole a valubil anteik box, not a ant. (Actule, thi box isnt a anteik @ ol but that isn what matters.) Id ½ tryd callin thi gard myself soon as it happind but I no from past xpeeryins they wooden lissen 2 me cos Im yung.
Weed been hopin that maibe thi bird whot had stolen Ergates woz 1 ov them ringed Is wif cameraz & stuf, or 1 ov them bein followed roun by little buzzir-bugs 4 a wildlife screen program or thi purpisses ov cyantific reserch but I gess it woz a bit ov a long shot & shurenuf thi ansir woz no 2 both. Thi gard took sum detales but Mr Zoliparia duzent hold out much hope ov them doing anythin.
U mussnt blame yoself, it woz a accident, Bascule.
I no that, Mr Zoliparia, but it woz a accident I cood ½ priventd if Id been moar observint & watchful & juss plain diligint in jeneril. What woz I thinkin ov lettin hir eat that bred on thi balstraid like that? Speshily when I seen them birdz in thi distins. I meen; bred! Evrbidy no birds luv bred! (I slap ma hand off ma 4head, finkin what a idiot Ive been.)
O Bascule, ahm sorry 2 on account ov me being di hoast & all; dis happin in ma hoam & ah shood ½ taken moar care 2, but wot’s dun is dun.
Is it tho, Mr Zoliparia? U reely think so?
What u mean, yung Bascule?
Am a tellir, Mr Zoliparia, u mussnt 4get that. (I screws up ma Is @ this point, 2 sho him I meen bizniss.) Them birdz—
Bascule, no! U cant go doin dat sorta ting! U crazi or sumtin chile? U onli go & scrambil yor brainz u try any ov dat sorta nonsins.
I juss smile.
I doan no whot u no ov whot a tellir duz but now mite b as good a time as eny 2 tell u if u doan no (them that duz can haply skip thi next 5 or 6 paragrafs & get bak 2 thi storey).
Basikly, a tellir fishiz in2 thi kript & pools out sum ole boy or girl & asks them qwestyins & ansirs there qwestyins. Iss kinda ½ archilojikil reserch & ½ soshil wurk if u want 2 look @ it coldly & r happy 2 ignoar whot peepil col thi spiritul side ov it.
Coarse its all a bit murki & weerd down thare in thi kript & moast bags (thas Boys & Girls remembir) get a bit spooked even thinkin about contactin thi ded let alone actuly welcomin them in2 ther beds & ½in a natter wif them. 2 us tellirs tho iss juss sumthin we do as a mattir ov coarse & no bothir ... well, providin u r carefil, naturily (admitidly ther arnt a lot ov old tellirs aroun, tho thas moastly coz ov whot they col naturil waistidje).
Nway, thi point is that tellirs yooz their natcheril skills 2 delv in2 thi kript, partly 2 find out things from thi past & partly 2 fulfill pledjes & bqwests whot thi relivint ordir has taken on. Mi order is calld thi Little Big Brothers ov thi Rich & we orijnaly jus lookd aftir thi inkripted soles ov peepil whot were very well off indeed thang-u-veri-mutch but our remit has brodind a bit sins then & now parrently weel tok 2 eny ole rif raf if they got sumfink inarestin 2 say.
Now, thi thing iz this; juss as thi deeper u go in2 thi kript thi hazier & more corosiv doun thare things get, so thi longir it is since u died thi moar kinda disoshiated u get from realty, &, evntule, evin if u want 2 stay in sum kinda hoomin form, u juss cant support that sort ov complexity, & 1 ov thi things that mite hapin after that is that u get shunted in2 thi animal kingdum; your personality, such as it is by then, is transferd in2 a panfir or a roc or cat or a simurg or a shark or eegil or whotevir. Iss aktuly considered sumfink ov a priviledge; loadsa bags fink thers nuffink betir than bein a bird or sumfink simla.
Ov coarse, theez animalz iz stil linkd in2 thi kript by ther own inplants, & thusly ther brains is potenshily availabil 2 a tellir, tho this is a pritti irregulir - not 2 say kinda daingerous - oakurinse. Irregulir bcoz nobody evir duz it. Dainjerous bcoz whot u r basikly tryin 2 do as a tellir in such a sircumstanse is try 2 fit yoor hoomin size mind inside a bird size 1. Takes sum finessin, but Ive always had this theery that bcoz my thots cum out wif a spin on them, so 2 speek, Im speshily good @ coapin wif 2 diffrint thot modes @ 1nce, & so moar than capabil ov takin on thi task ov becomin a bird & flyin in2 ther airea ov thi kript.
Thiss, u may ½ gatherd, is xactly whot I am proposin 2 do, & Mr Zoliparia is not 2 enamerd ov thi idea.
Bascule, pleeze, he sez, attempt 2 retain a sens ov proportshin. Iss onli a ant. & u r onli a junior tellir.
4shore, Mr Zoliparia, I sez. But am a tellir whot haznt evin bgun 2 b stretchd yet. Am a grate tellir. Am a tottil blinkin hot-shot tellir & I juss no I can fynd that bird.
& do whot? Mr Zoliparia shouts. De dam ant is probly ded! Dat birdz probly 8 it by now! Y u want 2 torture youself by findin dat out?
If so, I want 2 no, but nway I dont fink that’s rite; Im bankin on her ½ in been dropt by that big bird & am hopin it mite remember whare, or—
Bascule u r upset. Y doan u juss go bak 2 di ordir & try 2 cam down & tink dis —
Mr Zoliparia, I sez qwietly, I thank u 4 your consern but I intend 2 do this no mattir whot u say. Cheerz oll thi saim.
Mr Zoliparia lukes @ me diffrint than he has in thi past. Ive always liked him & Ive always luked up 2 him evir sins he woz 1 ov thi peepil they sent me 2 when they reelized I tolkd farely normil but I thot a bit funy, + I tend 2 do whot he sez - it woz him sed Perhaps u wood make a good tellir, & him whot sujjestid I keep a jurnil, witch this is whot u r readin - but this time I doan mutch care whot he finks, or @ least I do but I doan mutch care how bad it makes me feel goan agenst his advice bcoz I juss no I ½ 2 do this.
O deer Bascule, he sez & shakes his hed. I do bleev u do intend 2 do this & iss a sorry ting 4 eny persin 2 do 4 sumtin as insignifcant as a ant.
Iss not thi ant, Mr Zoliparia, I sez feelin ded grownup, itz me.
Mr Zoliparia shakes his hed. Iss u & no godam sens ov proporshin, dats wot it is.
Ol thi saim, I sez. It woz mi frend; she woz relyin on me 2 keep hir safe. Juss 1 try, Mr Zoliparia. I feel I O hir that.
Bascule, pleese, juss tink—
Mind if I juss hunkir down heer, Mr Zoliparia?
Givn u detrminded, Bascule, heer is probly bettir than Iswhare but am not happi about dis.
Doan wury, Mr Zoliparia. Woant take a second, litterly.
Der anytin I can do?
Yep; let me boro that pen ov yoors. Ta. Now am goanta sit up here - I sqwatted on a chair, ma chin on ma nees, & put thi pen in ma mouf.
‘en ’i ’en ’all ou‘ ’a ’ouf, I start 2 tel him . . .
Whot u sayin, Bascule?
I take thi pen out ma mouf. I woz juss sayin, when thi pen falls out ov ma mouf, let it hit thi carpet then shaik me & shout Bascule, fast awake!
Bascule, fast asleep, Mr Zoliparia sez.
Awake! I yelz.
Not wide asleep; fast awake!
Fast awake, Mr Zoliparia repeats. Bascule, fast awake. He shakes his hed & heez shakin. O deer Bascule, o deer.
If yor that wurried, Mr Zoliparia, catch thi pen b4 it hits & then wake me. Now, just giv me a minit heer ... I settil in2 place, gettin comfterbil; thisil onli take a sekind but u ½ 2 feel settld & redy & @ peece.
Rite. Am prepaird.
Thisl all hapin very qwickli, Mr Zoliparia; u redi? I put thi pen bak in ma mouf.
O deer Bascule.
Here we go.
O deer.
& so its off 2 thi land ov thi ded 4 yoors truli 4 thi sekind time 2day, onli this time iss a bit moar serieus.
Iss like sinkin in2 thi sky on thi other side ov thi Erf wifout goin thru thi whole fing furst. Iss like flotin in2 thi erf & thi sky @ thi time, becomin a line not a point, plumin thi depths & assendin thi hites & then branchin out like a tree, like a plane tree, like a hooj bush interminglin wif every bit ov thi erf & thi sky, & then iss like every 1 ov those bits isnt juss a bit ov erf or a molicule ov air eny more, iss like ol ov them is suddenly a littl system ov ther own; a book, a library, a persin; a world . . . & yoor connectid wif ol ov it, ignorin barryers, like u r a brain sell deep in thi grainy grey mush ov thi brain all closed in but joined up 2 loadsa uthir sells, awash in ther communicashin-song & set free by that trapt meshin.
Boompf-badoom; slapadowndoodie thru thi topmost obvyis layers whot corrisponds 2 thi upper levils ov thi brain - thi rashinil, sensibil, easily understood layers - in2 thi furst ov thi deepdown floors, thi bit under thi cerebral, under thi crust, under thi fotosphere, under thi obvyis.
Iss heer u ½ 2 b a littl bit careful; iss like bein in a not-so-saloobrius neyborhood ov a big dark city @ nite - only more complicaitd than that; mutch moar so.
In here, thi trik is thinkin rite. Thas all u ½ 2 do. U ½ 2 think rite. U ½ 2 b dairing & koshis, u ½ 2 b ver sensibil & totily mad. Moast ov ol u ½ 2 b cluvir, u ½ 2 b ingenius. U ½ 2 b abil 2 use whotevir is aroun u, & thass whot it reely cums doun 2; thi kript is whot they col self-referenshil, which meens that - up 2 a poynt - it meens whot u want it 2 meen, & displays itself 2 u as u r best abil 2 understand it, so iss up 2 u reely whot yoos u make ov it aftir that; iss ol about injinooty & thass y itz a yung persins meedyum, frangly.
Nway, I new whot I wantid so I thot bird.
& suddinly I woz up in sum dark bildin abuv thi wee twinkly lites ov thi city, up thare wif big metalic skulptyirs ov feersum lookin birds & ther woz lots ov screetches & skwaks about thi place but u coudnt c no birds jus heer thi noyse they made & it woz sort ov crusty-soft under foot & smeld asidic (or alkline; 1 ov thi 2).
I snifd about, walkin qwietly, then hopt up on2 1 ov thi big metallic birds & sqwatted there, wings by mi sides, stairin out ovir thi lite-spekd blak grid ov thi citi & not blinkin juss lookin 4 movemint, & lowrin ma hed now & agen & pokin in under mi wings wif thi twig whot I held in ma beak, juss like I woz preenin or sumfin.
Noticd ma wake-up code in thi form ov a ring roun ma lef leg. Handy 2 no it woz thare, juss in case fings go rong an/or Mr Zoliparia flufs his line.
... Staid ther a while, payshint as u like, juss watchin.
Wot u wan then? sed a voice from abuv & behind.
Nufink mutch, I sed, not lookin. I woz aware ov thi twig in ma beak but it din seem 2 make speakin eny hardir.
U muss want somthen, u woodin b heer otherwyse.
U got me thare, I sed. Am here lookin 4 sumbodi.
O?
Loss a frend ov mine. Roost-mate. Like 2 trace her.
We all got frenz we like 2 find.
This 1 very recent; ½ hour ago. Taken from thi septentrynil gargoil Rosbrith.
Sep whort?
Meens - (this is complicated, referin 2 thi uppir data levil whyle am down here in thi furst circle ov thi basement, but I do it) - meens northern, I sed (blimey). Rosbrith. Norf-west on thi grate hol.
Taken by whort?
Lammergeier, I sed. (Didn no that neevir til now.)
Reely. Whot u given in return?
Am heer amn I? Im a tellir. U got ma eer now. Il not forget u if u help. Luke in me if u want; c whot I say is tru.
Not blynd.
Didn fink u wer.
This bird; u catch eny distingushin marx on it?
It woz a lammergeir, thas oll I no, but ther cant b oll that meny ov them aroun thi norf-west cornir ov thi grate hol ½ a our ago.
Lammergeiers r a bit funy theez days, but Il ask aroun.
Fanks.
(flutr ov wings, then:)
Well, u mite b in luk—
- then ther waz a mega-sqwak & a screem & I had 2 turn roun & luke & ther woz a huge grate bird beetin in thi air behind & abuv mi, holdin anuthir torn bird in 1 ov itz talons; thi big bird woz red-black on black & feerse as deth & I cood feel thi wind ov its flappin snappin wings on ma fayce. It hung in thi air, wingz spread beetin like somethin feersly crucified, shaken thi ded bird in its talons so that itz blud spatterd in my Is.
Y u askin qwestions, child? it screemd.
Tryin 2 find a frend ov mine I sed, keepin cam. I clumpd aroun on mi perch 2 fayce thi big red-black bird. Twig stil in ma beak.
It held up one foot; 3 talons up, one down. C these three clawz? it sed.
Yup. (Mite as well play along 4 now, but Im checkin thi exits, finkin ov ma leg-ring wif thi wake-up code on it.)
U got 2 thi count ov 3 2 moov yoor beak bak 2 realty u skin job, thi red burd sez. U heer me? Am startin countin now: 3.
I juss lookin 4 ma frend.
2.
Iss juss a ant. Am only lookin 4 a litil ant who woz my frend.
1.
Wass thi fukin problim heer? Doan a creetch get no respect 4 - (& am shoutin now angry & I drop thi twig from ma beak).
Then thi big red birdz foot cums out like itz bleedin leg is telescopic & zaps itself 2wards ma hed & raps round it & sqwishes me down b4 I can do anythin & I feel maself trapt & sqwelched down thru thi fabric ov thi metalic bird am perched upon & down thru thi bildin its part ov & down thru thi city & down thru thi grid & down thru thi erf beneaf & down & down & down & whots wurse I can feel that thi ring roun ma leg that had my wake-up code on it has gon like that big red bird swiped it when it hit me an shurenuf I cant fink whot thi hel thi wake-up coad is meenwhile am stil goin down an down an down an am finkin,
O shit ...
THREE
1
‘Ah, this must be she. Good morning, young lady.’
‘Good morning, young lady.’
‘I beg your . . .? Ah, well, no, though I am half flattered.’
‘You not young lady, no?’
‘Neither young nor remotely lady-like. My name is Pieter Velteseri; I understand you may not know your own name, but—’
‘No, I do not.’
‘Quite. Well, first let me welcome you to our estate and to our house, both of which are called Jenahbilys. Please; do sit down . . . Well, I meant . . . Ah, perhaps the seat might be more appropriate? There; behind you. You see? Like this.’
‘Ah, not floor; seat.’
‘There you are. Just so. Now . . . Ah, would you excuse me?
... Gil, I can see this young lady’s pudenda, and despite my surfeit of years it is most off-putting, if more in the memory than in the tumescence. Might we clothe her in something more, ah, complete than what would appear to be merely your jacket and fundamentally nothing else?’
‘Sorry, uncle.’
‘... What are you looking at me for?’
‘Come on, Lucia; you could lend her something of yours.’
‘Tech. She hasn’t even been washed or anything yet; have you seen the state of her feet? Oh, all right . . .’
‘. . . My nephew’s friend has gone to fetch you some further attire. I thought she might take you, and . . . well, never mind. Perhaps you would like to come to the window over here? The view of the formal gardens is particularly pleasing. Gil, perhaps our young guest would like somet
hing to drink.’
‘I’ll attend to it, unc.’
The second man - of course not a lady, which was to do with women, like herself (and she had to search for the word she now felt; it was embarrassed) - the second man, who was old and a little stooped and had a crinkled face, motioned to one of the windows, and they both walked there while the first man, the young one, closed his eyes for a second. The view from the window was of a gravel and flower garden, arranged in a strange, half-swirling, half-geometric pattern. Small tracked machines rolled amongst the blooms, clipping and sorting.
A little later a small wheeled thing appeared in the room, humming quietly and carrying a tray which held four glasses, several bottles and some small filled bowls. Then Lucia Chimbers appeared with some clothes and took her to a side room where she showed her how to put on shorts, pants and a shirt.
They stood looking at their reflections in a long mirror for a moment. ‘You on something deep?’ Lucia Chimbers asked quietly.
She looked at Lucia Chimbers.
‘Because if you are, I’d like to know what it is.’
‘On something deep,’ she repeated, frowning (and watched herself frown, in the mirror). ‘In something deep, mean you? I mean; you mean?’
‘Never mind.’ The other woman sighed. ‘Let’s wheel you out there. See if the old man can get any sense out of you.’
‘I believe she may be an asura,’ Pieter Velteseri said, over lunch.
He had spent the morning patiently questioning the girl in an effort to determine what memories she possessed. From this he knew that she had appeared in the clan vault a few hours earlier, seemingly artificially rebirthed in the manner a family member might be were there no clan member suitably pregnant at the time of their scheduled reconstitution. Being born without warning, alone, and in adult form did make the girl unique in his experience, however. She had an extensive vocabulary but seemed uncertain how to employ it, though he had gained the impression that her linguistic skills had developed considerably just in the two hours or so of their conversation.
Feersum Endjinn Page 6