Authors: Iain M. Banks
Feersum Endjinn (13 page)
Yeh thass im, muss b im.
It disapeers b 4 I can say anyfin.
Then there’s a face @ thi entrins 2 thi box, & I cant beleve it; its a hoomin face, a hoomin hed but its bin flayed, iss got no skin on it @ ol & its ol red with blud & u can c tendons & mussils & its Is r starin out wif no lids neethir but iss also got thi biggist smile u evir seen & its held in thi claws ov sum huge bird I cant c apart from its talons & lower legs; thi talons r holdin thi hed by thi eers & thi hed opins its mouf & starts makin this weerd noise, incredibly loud & gutteril & its tung comes out, but iss not a ordinary tung iss far 2 long 4 a start & iss flapin & lashin & thi hed’s makin this screemin noise & thi tung is snakin rite @ me & iss got hooks & claws @ thi end ov it & thi tung flix 2wards me & I jump bakwards off thi perch & land almost on top ov Dartlin’s body & thi tung is snappin bak & 4th ovir thi top ov thi perch tryin 2 get me & Im peckin & screetchin & tryin 2 get @ it with my talons but its 2 hi up & ol thi while this hoarse cacofoni ov noise is ringin in ma eers & @ furst I think its screemin Gimme gimme gimme but it isnt, iss moar like Gididibididibididigididigigigibididigibibibi ol run 2gether like that like iss a mashine gun or sumthin & thi tung lashiz bak roun thi top ov thi perch & down & now iss cummin strait 4 me & I slash @ it wif mi talons but it twists & grabs my rite wing & starts 2 pool & am scretchin & iss goin gididibibibigigigibigigigibibigigi & am tryin 2 hold on2 thi perch wif 1 talon & scratch thi tung wif thi othir & peck @ it 2 & its tearin ma wing off, brakin it & it snaps & it pools off a hole buncha fevirs & thi orribil face gets a moufful ov those & I hop bak agen 2 thi reer ov thi box, flappin & screetchin & trailin mi broken wing; thi tung fliks bak in & I kik littl Dartlin’s body @ it & thi tung raps tite round it & pulls it bak but throws it away when it gets it outside & iss still hammerin away wif this gigigibididibibibigigigi stuf fillin mi eers & am juss about 2 die ov frite as thi tung cums snappin 2wards mi face when it goze gididibibibibibibigididibigiBasculefastawake!
- & am bak in thi study ov thi gargoil Rosbrith sqwattin on thi chair & starin @ this hooj hoomin Mr Zoliparia holdin a pen & shakin my sholdir & goin, Bascule? U olrite?
It can b a bit ov a shok watchin sumbodi cum out ov a kript trip; if its only a minit in yoor time its a week in thers & a lot ov fings can happen in a week & if its been a bad 1 it tends 2 sho in yoor face, so 4 thi persin wakin u up its like they tel u 2 wake up & instantly yoor face goes old & paind & worn-lookin & thi persin finks O no, whot ½ I dun?
Am sqwattin on thi balustrade whare Ergates woz liftid from, hunkerd down takin moar t & biskits wif Mr Zoliparia. He’s lookin a bit worryd coz Im sqwattin here facin thi drop like am about 2 lonch miself in2 thi air, but ther is thi safety net aftir ol & nway I juss feel cumfterbil perched here & I like thi vew & thi feel ov thi wind on mi face.
My left arm has that sorta echo-pain u get from a bad kript trip injury & I keep wantin 2 lift thi biskits wif my foot & eet them that way but I fink am graduly loosin mi birdishnes. I can tel Mr Zoliparia wants 2 ask me lots ov qwestyons but Im stil findin it a bit hard 2 tok.
Few, that woz a hard ole kript trip that 1. I supose u cood argu I shood ½ taken a bit more time & juss sent a send ov miself in; a image or construct whood ½ dun everyfin I did & felt everyfin I felt & in fact wude ½ been a dooplicate me, xcept meanwhile Id stil ½ been fooly conshis here wif Mr Zoliparia, but it takes much longir doin it that way; u ½ 2 prepare furrily b4 u go & u ½ 2 spend ages reeintigratin yoor 2 selvs when thi send cums bak, sortin memirys & feelins & caractir chainjes & so on; juss jumpin in & out wif thi 1 persinality is a lot qwicker; less than a sekind rather than up 2 ½ a day ... but ov coarse that supposid sekind dozent alow 4 thi persin whots supposed 2 wake u up gettin confused bcoz almost thi lass thing u sed 2 him woz, ‘Juss giv me a minit heer,’ & them totily misunderstandin whot u ment on account ov them bein old & confused, & so u spendin a week in thi kript insted ov a few ours, & thusly gettin so alterd by yoor kript-self that u fink yoor a blinkin hok 4 thi next cupil ov ours.
I c a flok ov smol birdz in thi distince & while 1 ½ ov me’s finkin, this is how this ol started, & rememberin that poor deer litl ant, thi othir ½ is goin, Ha! Prey!
No I doan fink it is ol a haloosinayshin, Mr Zoliparia, I sez (am missin out thi bits whare he keeps apologisin 4 what hapind). I fink its ol as tru as u & me sittin here. Thers sumfin happenin in thi kript; I coodin work out whot part ov its 2 do wif thi palas & whot part is 2 do wif thi kaotic reejins, but thers sumfin goan on, & thers a wotch bein kept 4 sumbody or sumfin unusual in thare & out here 2, + sumthin reely disgustin from thi hoomin relm has axsess 2 thi bird part ov thi kript & has sikured thi copperashin ov @ least sum ov thi birdz.
It ol sound moar like a nitemare, speshily thi lass part, Mr Zoliparia sez.
Weer boaf sittin now; I feel less like a hok ol thi time. Mind u, I stil need 2 b out here on thi balcony; doan like thi thot ov goin inside & bein trapt.
I saw it wif mi own Is, Mr Zoliparia. I no u doan hold wif thi kript & ol & fink its ol a dreem nway, but iss not that simpl, & whot I saw I saw, & I nevir seen nor herd ov nuffink like that fing like a flaid hed & makin that orribl noise; I meen, u heer stories ov goasts & beasties & stuf like that from thi kaotic relms cumin up & snatchin peepil & gobblin them up, but u nevir c it happen; that stufs juss mif; this woz reel.
U r sure dat bcoz it had a hoomin hed it wos sumtin from di hoomin part ov di kript?
Thas thi way it wurx, Mr Zoliparia. It woz sumfin that had 2 preserv hoomin form evin in its monstrisness or it coodin funkshin, or mayb bcoz it mite ½ let thi birdz c whot it woz reely like, which givin that birdz doan much like hoomins in thi furst place, is sayin sumfin.
& it woz after u.
It shure woz. Am not sayin I am what thare actuli lookin 4 - doan xpect I am - but thare catchin & cajin evrybody a bit diffrint or suspishis & that hed fing seems 2 b involved in thi round-up.
Mr Zoliparia shakes his hed. O deer Bascule, o deer.
Nevir mind, Mr Zoliparia. No harm dun.
Thass tru, Bascule; lease u bak heer safe & soun, no tanks 2 me. Nway, i tink u shude keep away from thi kript 4 a bit, doan u?
Wel that mite b a idear, Mr Zoliparia, I sez. U certinly got a point thare.
Good boy, he sez. I no; why doan we play a game? Or mayb u wude like 2 go 4 a wok; take a constichewshinil roun sum ov thi terrices on thi roof, mayb stop off sumware 4 lunch - wot u say, Bascule?
Ol soundz good 2 me, Mr Zoliparia.
Less do boat tings, he lafs. Weel go 4 a wok but weel take di portibil Go board wif us & ½ a game ovir a nice long lunch @ a rathir nice restoront i no.
Good idear, Mr Zoliparia. Thas a fine ole complicatid game, that Go.
Rite! Ahl get di Go, den weel go! he lafs, & he jumps up & heds indoars. Drink up yoor t! he shouts.
I luke out @ them birdz again, circlin above a far towr. I doan want 2 tel Mr Zoliparia but am goan strait bak in thare 2 that kript juss as soon as I feel abil. I stil want 2 find out whot happind 2 poor Ergates, but I want 2 no whots goan on, 2.
Truth b told, it terryfys me ½ 2 def jus finkin about it, but I got this feelin I lerned a lot while I woz in thi kript today & iss tru whot they say; iss like a addictiv game, & lnce u cum out ov it a bit brused & woondid, thi furst thing u want 2 do is get strate bak in thare & get it rite next time. I juss woan fink about that horribl hed fing.
I finish my t & tidy up thi cups & stuf (u ½ 2 do this @ Mr Zoliparias cos he hasnt eny servitors) & take thi tray inside juss as heez puttin on his coat & stuffin thi portabil Go board in his pokit.
Redy, Bascule? he asks.
Am redy, Mr Zoliparia.
Redy ol rite. Big stuf happenin in thi kript & sum poor buggir bein huntid & me wif a hed start on thi peepil doin thi huntin.
Bascule thi rascule thas me & am moar than redy; am feerce.
A litl bird tole me.
1
When she awoke there was a halo of light all around the circular bed; the light led up forever into and beyond the sky and shrank to a point that was both the source of the light and a calm, dark hole.
She wondered where the ceiling had gone.
The light was like nothing she had ever seen or even had any words for; it was at once absolutely smooth, uniform and pure, and somehow wildly various, composed of every hue there were words to describe and many more besides; it was every shade and intensity of every colour any eye or instrument ever born or made had ever been able to distinguish, and it was the utter un-colour of profound darkness too.
As she sat up, the tunnel of light moved with her so that she was always looking straight into it, until she was gazing down to the end of the bed over the little hills her feet made in the soft coverings. Now the tunnel of light led away across where the floor ought to be and out through the tall windows and over the balcony and the lawns outside. It was as though in that silent gloriousness she could see vague dim outlines of the earlier room around her, but the brilliant shining had made them the unreal world, not the real one.
She could remember waking and her journey through the garden and the hedge-castle and the talking heads and her conversations with the old man in this house; she could remember the two younger people and the lunch and supper they had taken together, and recall being shown to this room by the old man and the woman, and shown the bathroom by the woman, but all that was made as though into a dream by this utterly quiet cascade of light, so that now she could have believed that all of it had indeed been a fiction.
She crawled to the foot of the bed and slipped out of the covers. They had given her a beautiful nightgown of soft blue and she had worn it first then taken it off because it felt restricting, but now she reached back and slipped it on again.
They had given her slippers too but she stared into the light and could not bear to go back round the side of the bed to look for them, and so she set off into the light, walking gently with a flowing, measured tread, as though frightened her footsteps might bruise the fabric of this beckoning radiance.
The tunnel’s floor was neither warm nor cold; it yielded to her soles but it was not soft. The air seemed to drift with her as she walked and she had the impression that with every step she took she moved a great but somehow natural distance, as if one could stand on a desert and look to a far mountain peak and suddenly be there on that summit, in the thin rush of cold air, looking at a line of hills on the horizon, and then be there too, and then turn and see a broad grassy plain in the distance and be there, standing on the warm earth with the tall swaying grass brushing at her legs and buzzing insects sounding lazy in the hot, damp air; she looked from there to a small hill where short grass grew around old, fallen stones and birds trilled overhead and from where she looked into a broad forest and then she was within the forest and surrounded by trees and didn’t know where to go; everywhere she looked was the same, and she could no longer tell whether she was actually moving anywhere now or not and after a while realised that she was completely lost and so stood there, her mouth set in a tight line, her fists clenched and her brows furrowed as though trying to contain within herself the fury and perplexity she felt at still being enclosed by the night-dark jungle, until she noticed a cool shaft of soft light glowing through the branches, and was there, bathed in it but still surrounded by the green pouring weight of rustling foliage.
But then she smiled and lifted up her head and there in the sky was a beautiful moon, round and wide and welcoming.
She looked at it.
She went to the moon where a small ape-man tried to explain what was happening, but she didn’t completely understand what he was telling her. She knew it was something important, and that she had something important to do, but she could not quite work out what. She set the memory aside. She would think about it later.
The moon disappeared.
In the distance there was a castle. Or, at least, something that looked like a castle. It rose above a blue line of hills in the far distance, castle-shaped but impossibly big; a blue outline painted on the pale air, flat- and even upside-down-looking, not because it was not the correct shape for a castle - it was exactly the right shape - but because the higher up you looked the clearer the castle appeared.
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