Perdido Street Station Part 53

Isaac crept away from the moth, gazing at it in his mirrors, feeling his way along the wall towards Shadrach, who lay moaning, crying out, befuddled with pain.

In the mirrors before his eyes, Isaac saw the slake-moth turn. It hissed, its tongue flickering. It spread its wings, and bore down on Shadrach.

Isaac tried desperately to reach the other man, but he was too slow. The slake-moth stamped past him again, and Isaac turned smoothly once more, always keeping the terrible predator in his mirrors.

As he watched in horror, Isaac saw the slake-moth pull Shadrach upright. Shadrach's eyes rolled. He was concussed and in pain, coated in blood.

He began to slide down the wall again. The slake-moth spread his arms wide and then, so fast that it was completed before Isaac realized it had started, it thrust at him with two of its long, jagged claws, slamming them through Shadrach's wrists and into the brick and concrete behind them, physically pinning him to the wall.

Shadrach and Isaac cried out together.

With its two bone-spears wedged in place, the moth reached out with its quasi-human hands and coaxed at Shadrach's eyes. Isaac moaned at him to beware, but the big warrior was confused and in agony, and desperately looking around to see what it was that hurt him so.

Instead, he saw the slake-moth's wings.

He quietened suddenly, and the slake-moth, its back still smouldering and cracking with the heat from the construct's attack, leaned forward to feed.

Isaac looked away. He turned his head carefully, so that he would not see that probing tongue suck the sentience from Shadrach's brain. Isaac swallowed and began to walk slowly across the room, towards the hole and the tunnel. His legs shook and he clenched his jaw. His only hope was to leave. That way, he might survive.

He was careful to ignore the s...o...b..ring, sucking noises, the liquid grunts of pleasure and the drip-drip-drip drip-drip-drip of saliva or blood that came from behind him. Isaac made his careful way towards the only exit in the room. of saliva or blood that came from behind him. Isaac made his careful way towards the only exit in the room.

As he neared it, he saw the end of the metal pipe that attached to his helmet still lying undisturbed by the wall. He breathed a prayer. His mental essence was still leaking into the room. The slake-moth must know that there was another sentient being in there with it. The closer Isaac came to the tunnel, the closer he would be to the pipe's outlet. It would no longer be misleading about his location.

And yet, and yet, it seemed that he was lucky. The slake-moth was so intent on drinking its fill and, judging by the sounds of ripping tissue, of wreaking revenge on poor Shadrach's wracked body, that it was paying no attention to the terrified presence behind it. Isaac was able to walk on, past it, away, right to the lip of the burrow.

But there, as he stood poised, ready to drop quietly into the dark where the construct still waited and creep his way out into the dome and away from this nightmare nest, he felt a trembling beneath his feet.

He looked down.

The sound of frantic clawing feet was skittering through the tunnel towards him. He stepped back, utterly aghast. He felt the brickwork tremble deep inside.

With an almighty crash, the monkey-construct came catapulting from the tunnel to slam against the wall of bricks. It tried to push back with its arms, to somersault up into the room, but its momentum took it far too fast, and both its arms snapped neatly off at the shoulder.

It tried to raise itself, smoke and fire gouting from its mouth, but a slake-moth tore out of the tunnel and trod on its head, bursting its intricate machinery.

The moth leapt up into the room, and for a long merciless moment, Isaac was staring directly directly at it, with its wings outstretched. at it, with its wings outstretched.

It was only after several moments of terror and despair that Isaac realized the newcomer was ignoring him, was hurling itself past him across the bodies in the room towards the ruined eggs. And as it ran, it turned its head on its long, sinuous neck, and chattered its teeth in something like fear.

Isaac flattened himself against the wall again, peering into his mirrors at both the slake-moths.

The second moth forced open its teeth and spat out some high, gibbering sound. The first moth gave a last almighty suck and let Shadrach's spent and ruined body fall. Then it moved back with its sibling, towards the glutinous ruins of the dreams.h.i.t and the eggs.

The two moths spread their wings. They stood wingtip to wingtip, their various armoured limbs extended, and waited.

Isaac crept slowly into the hole, not daring to wonder what was happening, why they were ignoring him. Behind him, the metal exhaust pipe snaked like an idiotic tail. As Isaac stared in bewilderment into his mirrors, unable to make sense of the scene behind him, the s.p.a.ce around the tunnel entrance rippled for a moment. It buckled and suddenly flowered, and there in the pit with him stood the Weaver.

Isaac gaped in awe. The enormous arachnid creature loomed over him, looked down through a clutch of glinting eyes. The slake-moths bristled.

. . . GRIM AND NEBULOUS GRIMY AND NEBULAR YOU ARE YOU ARE GRIM AND NEBULOUS GRIMY AND NEBULAR YOU ARE YOU ARE . . . came that unmistakable voice, crooning into Isaac's ears-especially his missing ear. . . . came that unmistakable voice, crooning into Isaac's ears-especially his missing ear.

"Weaver!" He almost sobbed.

The vast spider presence leapt up, landing square on its four hind legs. It gesticulated intricately in the air with its knife hands.

. . . FOUND THE REAVER TEARING WORLDWEAVE OVER THE BLISTERING GLa.s.s AND WE DANCED A BLOODTHIRSTY DUET EACH SAVAGE MOMENT MORE VIOLENT FOUND THE REAVER TEARING WORLDWEAVE OVER THE BLISTERING GLa.s.s AND WE DANCED A BLOODTHIRSTY DUET EACH SAVAGE MOMENT MORE VIOLENT I I CANNOT WIN WHEN THESE FOUR DASTARDLY CORNERS SQUARE UP TO ME CANNOT WIN WHEN THESE FOUR DASTARDLY CORNERS SQUARE UP TO ME . . . the Weaver said, and advanced on its prey. Isaac could not move. He gazed into the shards of mirror at the extraordinary contest behind him. . . . . . . the Weaver said, and advanced on its prey. Isaac could not move. He gazed into the shards of mirror at the extraordinary contest behind him. . . . RUN HIDE LITTLE ONE YOU ARE A SKILFUL ONE FIXING THE RUCKS AND TEARS IT COMES AROUND YOU ONE HAS GONE TRAPPED INTO TRAPPING YOU AND CRUSHED LIKE WHEAT AND IT IS TIME TO FLEE BEFORE THE BEREFT BROTHERSISTER INSECTS ARRIVE TO MOURN THE MULCH YOU HELPED MELT RUN HIDE LITTLE ONE YOU ARE A SKILFUL ONE FIXING THE RUCKS AND TEARS IT COMES AROUND YOU ONE HAS GONE TRAPPED INTO TRAPPING YOU AND CRUSHED LIKE WHEAT AND IT IS TIME TO FLEE BEFORE THE BEREFT BROTHERSISTER INSECTS ARRIVE TO MOURN THE MULCH YOU HELPED MELT . . . . . .

They were coming, Isaac realized. The Weaver was warning him that they had sensed the death of the eggs, and were returning, too late, to protect the nest.

Isaac gripped hold of the edges of the tunnel, prepared to disappear into its folds. But he was held for a few seconds, his mouth hanging open in awe, his breathing shallow and amazed, by the sight of the slake-moths and the Weaver joining battle.

It was an elemental scene, something way beyond human ken. It was a flickering vision of horn blades moving much too fast for a human to see, an impossibly intricate dance of innumerable limbs across several dimensions. Gouts of blood sprayed in various colours and textures across the walls and floor, fouling the dead. Behind the unclear bodies, silhouetting them, the chymical fire hissed and rolled across the concrete floor. And all the while it fought, the Weaver sang its ceaseless monologue.

. . . OH HOW IT DOES HOW IT BRINGS ME TO THE BOIL OH HOW IT DOES HOW IT BRINGS ME TO THE BOIL I I BUBBLE AND EFFERVESCE BUBBLE AND EFFERVESCE I I AM DRUNK INTOXICATED ON THE JUICE OF ME THAT THESE MAD AM DRUNK INTOXICATED ON THE JUICE OF ME THAT THESE MAD-WINGERS FERMENT . . . it sang. . . . it sang.

Isaac stared in astonishment. Extraordinary things were happening. The slashing and the punishing thrusts continued with fervour, but now the slake-moths were whipping their vast tongues back and forth through the air. They ran them at lightning speed over the body of the Weaver as it shuddered in and out of the material plane. Isaac saw their stomachs distend and contract, saw them lick the length of the Weaver's abdomen then reel back as if drunk, then come back hard and attack again.

The Weaver slipped in and out of sight, was one minute focused and brutal and would then become giddy, hop for a moment on the point of one leg, singing without words, before snapping back to become a voracious killer again.

Unthinkable patterns flitted across the slake-moths' wings, utterly unlike any Isaac had seen them produce before. They licked hungrily as they slashed and stabbed at their enemy. The Weaver spoke calmly to Isaac as it fought.

. . . NOW LEAVE THIS PLACE AND REGROUP WHILE NOW LEAVE THIS PLACE AND REGROUP WHILE I I THE DRINKARD AND THESE MY BREWERS BICKER AND GASH BEFORE THESE TWO BECOME A TRIUMVIRATE OR WORSE AND THE DRINKARD AND THESE MY BREWERS BICKER AND GASH BEFORE THESE TWO BECOME A TRIUMVIRATE OR WORSE AND I I SCAMPER FOR SAFETY GO NOW DOMEWARD AND OUT WE WILL SEE THEE AND ME WE WILL COMMUNE GO NAKED GO NAKED AS A DEAD MAN ON THE RIVER SCAMPER FOR SAFETY GO NOW DOMEWARD AND OUT WE WILL SEE THEE AND ME WE WILL COMMUNE GO NAKED GO NAKED AS A DEAD MAN ON THE RIVER'S DAWN AND I I WILL FIND YOU EASY AS CAKE WHAT A PATTERN WHAT COLOURS WHAT INTRICATE THREADS THAT WILL BE WEAVE WELL AND PRETTY NOW RUN FOR YOUR SKIN WILL FIND YOU EASY AS CAKE WHAT A PATTERN WHAT COLOURS WHAT INTRICATE THREADS THAT WILL BE WEAVE WELL AND PRETTY NOW RUN FOR YOUR SKIN . . . . . .

The mad inebriated fight continued. As Isaac watched, he saw the Weaver being forced back, its energy always ebbing and flowing, moving like a vicious wind, but gradually retreating. Isaac's terror suddenly returned. He ducked into the brick burrow and crawled away.

There was a frantic minute in the dark, as Isaac felt his way at speed along the broken floor of the tunnel. The skin on his hands and knees was flayed by stone.

Light glimmered ahead of him, around a corner and he sped up. He cried out in pain and astonishment as his palms slapped down onto a patch of smooth, scorching metal. He hesitated, groped around him with his ragged sleeve over his hand. The wall and floor and ceiling was plated with a buffed surface of what, in the faint light, looked like a band of pressed steel four feet wide. His face creased in incomprehension. He braced himself, then slid quickly over the metal, hot as a kettle on a fire, trying to keep his skin from its surface.

He breathed out so fast and hard he moaned. He hauled himself through the exit, collapsing across the floor in the dark room where Yagharek waited.

Isaac pa.s.sed out for three or four seconds. He came to with Yagharek crying out to him, dancing from foot to foot. The garuda was tense but focused. He was utterly controlled.

"Wake," spat Yagharek. "Wake." He was shaking Isaac by his collar. Isaac opened his eyes wide. The shadows that caked Yagharek's face were ebbing away, he realized. Tansell's hex must be wearing off.

"You are alive," said Yagharek. His voice was curt, pared down and bare of emotion. He spoke to save time and effort, to conserve himself. "As I waited, through the window came the blunt snout then the body of a slake-moth. I turned and watched through these mirrors. It was racing, confused. I was ready with my whip and I hit backwards at it, stinging it across its skin, making it shriek. I thought that would mean my death, but the thing raced past me and the ape-construct into the hole, folding its wings away into an impossible s.p.a.ce. It ignored me. It looked behind it as if it were chased. I felt a rucking motion in s.p.a.ce following it, something moving below the skin of the world, disappearing into the tunnel after the slake-moth. I sent the monkey-thing after it. I heard a crumpling sound, the whiplash of straining metal. I do not know what happened."

"The G.o.dsd.a.m.n Weaver melted the construct melted the construct . . ." he said, his voice shaking. "G.o.ds only f.u.c.king know why." He stood quickly. . . ." he said, his voice shaking. "G.o.ds only f.u.c.king know why." He stood quickly.

"Where is Shadrach?" said Yagharek.

"He got f.u.c.king taken taken, didn't he? He got f.u.c.king drunk up drunk up!" Isaac scrambled to the window and leaned out, looking out at the torchlit streets. He heard the heavy, ponderous sound of cactacae running. As torches were carried along surrounding alleys, the shadows slid and shifted like oil in water. Isaac turned back to face Yagharek.

"It was f.u.c.king horrible," he said, his voice hollow. "There was nothing I could do . . . Yag, listen listen. The Weaver was in there and it told me to get the G.o.dsd.a.m.n out out because the moths can smell the trouble . . . s.h.i.t, listen. We burnt its eggs." He spat the words with hard satisfaction. "The f.u.c.king thing had because the moths can smell the trouble . . . s.h.i.t, listen. We burnt its eggs." He spat the words with hard satisfaction. "The f.u.c.king thing had laid laid and we got past it and burnt the d.a.m.n things, but the other moths could sense it and they're heading back here and we got past it and burnt the d.a.m.n things, but the other moths could sense it and they're heading back here right now right now . . . We've got to get . . . We've got to get out out."

Yagharek was still for a moment, thinking quickly. He looked at Isaac and nodded.

They retraced their steps quickly down the dark stairs. They slowed as they approached the first floor, remembering the couple talking quietly on their mattresses, but they saw in the flickering light through the open door that the room was deserted. All the cactacae who had been sleeping were up and out, in the streets.

"G.o.dsd.a.m.n!" swore Isaac. "We'll be seen seen, we'll be f.u.c.king seen seen. The dome must be f.u.c.king crawling. We're losing our shadows."

They hovered at the front door. Yagharek and Isaac peered around the corner into the street. There was a crackling susurrus from the raised torches on all sides. Across the street was the little alley, its torches still doused, in which their companions lurked. Yagharek strained to see into its dark, but could not.

At the end of the street by the dome wall, under the stubby, boarded-up remnants of the house in which, Isaac realized, was the slake-moths' nest, stood a gang of cactacae. Opposite them, where the road joined others and moved towards the temple at the dome's centre, little groups of cactus warriors rushed by in either direction.

"G.o.dspit, they must've heard all that ruckus," hissed Isaac. "We have to d.a.m.n well move, or we're dead. One at a time." He grabbed Yagharek and braced his arms behind the garuda's back. "You first, Yag. You're quicker and harder to see. Go. Go. Go." He pushed Yagharek out into the street.

Yagharek was not wrong-footed. He sprinted lightly, increasing speed. It was not panicked flight which might attract attention. He kept his pace just low enough that if one of the cactus people glimpsed motion, they might think it one of their own people. The shadows and stillness still varnished his fleeting figure.

It was forty feet to the darkness. Isaac held his breath, watching the muscles move beneath Yagharek's scarred back.

The cactus people were jabbering in their harsh pidgin, arguing over who was to go in. Two swung huge hammers, taking turns to batter the bricked-up entrance to the last low house where, for all Isaac knew, the slake-moths and the Weaver still danced lethally together.

The darkness of the alley accepted Yagharek.

Isaac breathed deep, then stepped out into the alley himself.

He strode quickly away from the doorway, into the open street, willing his uncanny shade-covering to deepen. He began to jog towards the alleyway.

As he reached the midway point of the junction, there was a buffeting, a storm of wings. Isaac looked back and up at the window, on the vertex of the wedge of architecture.

Scrabbling at it with a repulsive desperation, the third slake-moth pushed its way through into the interior, returning home.

His breath caught, but the beast was ignoring him, its fervour reserved for its ruined sp.a.w.n.

As Isaac turned his face again, he realized that the cactacae at the far end of the street had also heard the sound. From where they stood, they could not see the window, could not see the monstrous form infiltrating the house. But they could see Isaac running from them, fat and furtive.

"Oh s.h.i.t s.h.i.t," breathed Isaac, and broke into a full, lumbering run.

There was a confusion of yells. One voice rose above the shouting and snapped orders. Several cactus warriors broke away from the congregation by the door and ran straight for Isaac.

They were not fast, but neither was he. They carried their ma.s.sive weapons expertly, unimpeded as they ran.

Isaac sprinted as best he could.

"I'm on your d.a.m.n side!" he shouted uselessly as he ran. His words were inaudible. Even if they had heard him, it was inconceivable that the cactus warriors, frightened and bewildered and pugnacious, would have paid any heed before killing him.

The cactacae were yelling, screaming for other patrols. There were answering shouts from neighbouring streets.

An arrow snapped from the alley before Isaac, whipping past him and thudding into some flesh behind. There was a gasp and a curse of pain from one of his pursuers. Isaac made out shapes in the darkness of the alley. Pengefinchess resolved from shadows, drawing back her bowstring once more. She bellowed at him to hurry. Behind her, Tansell stood with the blunderbuss drawn, aiming it uncertainly over her head. His eyes were scanning desperately behind Isaac. He shouted something.

Derkhan and Lemuel and Yagharek were crouched a little way behind, ready to run. Yagharek held his whip coiled and ready.

Isaac raced into the darkness.

"Where's Shad?" screamed Tansell again.

"Dead," shouted Isaac. Instantly, Tansell screamed with horrible anguish. Pengefinchess did not look up, but her arm spasmed and she almost dropped her arrow. She paused and aimed again. Tansell shot wildly over her head. The blunderbuss boomed and he staggered with the recoil. A great cloud of buckshot sprayed harmlessly over the heads of the cactus people.

"No!" shouted Tansell. "Oh Jabber no no!" He was staring at Isaac, begging to be told that it was not true.

"I'm sorry, mate, truly, but we have to f.u.c.king go go," said Isaac urgently.

"He's right, Tan," said Pengefinchess, her voice desperately steady. She fired another arrow, with the spring-loaded blade that sliced a great gouge of cactus flesh. She stood, notching a third missile. "Let's go go, Tan. Don't think, just move."

There was a high-pitched whirring, and a cactacae chakri slammed into the brick by Tansell's head. It embedded itself deep, sending a painful explosion of mortar-shards around it.

The cactacae squadron were approaching fast. Their faces were visible, twisted in rage.

Pengefinchess began to back away, tugging at Tansell.

"Come on on!" she shouted. Tansell moved with her, muttering and moaning. He had dropped the gun, was crooking his hands like claws.

Pengefinchess ran, dragging Tansell. The others followed her, turning into the intricate maze of backstreets through which they had arrived.

The air behind them hummed with projectiles. Chakris and thrown axe-knives whistled past them.

Pengefinchess ran and leapt at an amazing speed. She turned occasionally and fired behind her, hardly aiming, before resuming her run.

"Constructs?" she shouted at Isaac.

"f.u.c.ked," he wheezed. "You know how to get back to the sewers?"

She nodded and turned a corner sharply. The others followed her. As Pengefinchess plunged into the decrepit alleyways near the ca.n.a.l where they had hidden, Tansell turned suddenly back. His face was deep red. As Isaac watched, some little vein burst in the corner of Tansell's eye.

He wept blood. He did not blink. He did not wipe it away.

Pengefinchess turned from the end of the street and howled at him not to be stupid, but he ignored her. His hands and limbs were trembling violently. He raised his gnarled hands and Isaac saw that his veins were protruding hugely, like a map across his skin.

Tansell began to pace back along the street, towards the turnoff where the cactacae would emerge.

Pengefinchess screamed for him one last time, then leapt mightily over a crumbling wall. She shouted for the others to follow her.

Isaac backed quickly towards the shattered brick, his eyes fixed on Tansell's retreating figure.

Derkhan was scrambling up a little stairway of broken brick, hesitating and leaping down into the hidden yard where the vodyanoi wrestled with the manhole cover. It took Yagharek less than two seconds to scale the wall and drop to the other side. Isaac reached up and looked behind him again. Lemuel was running quickly down the alley, ignoring the desperate figure of Tansell behind him.

Tansell stood at the entrance to the alleyway. He shook with effort, his body coursing with thaumaturgic flow. His hair stood on end. Isaac saw little ebony sparks burst outwards from his body, snapping arcs of energy. The puissant charge that snapped and burst out from under his skin was absolutely dark. It glowed negatively, with unlight.