The City of Dreaming Books (66 page)

The books that passed through my paws and brain were of every conceivable genre: novels and volumes of poetry, children’s books and scientific works, thrillers and biographies, short stories and collections of letters, fables and fairy tales. They even included a cookbook, I remember. Common to them all was the mysterious power that pervaded them - a power to which I became more and more addicted the more of it I absorbed.

It was like being roused from a wonderful, intoxicating dream when the Shadow King eventually hauled me out of the library. I tottered through the castle for days, hoping to recapture that dream, but I was no more successful in rediscovering the Library of the Orm than I had been in finding an exit.

Sometimes, in the course of my hopeless quest, I would pick up and dip into one of the ordinary books that lay strewn around the castle. Whenever I did, it seemed so insipid and insubstantial that I flew into a rage and hurled it at the wall after reading the first few sentences. I was spoilt for any other form of literature, and the mental torment I endured was comparable to the agony of unrequited love compounded by the withdrawal symptoms associated with a severe addiction.

One day my wanderings brought me face to face with the Shadow King. He was lurking in a shadowy passage and his sudden reappearance scared me half to death.

‘Listen,’ he said, ‘you can’t go on like this.’

‘Then take me back to the library!’ I implored.

‘That’s no solution,’ he replied. ‘I’ll take you somewhere else.’

‘Where?’ I asked anxiously.

‘Up above. I’ll take you back to Bookholm.’

I felt bewildered.

‘You will?’

‘I’ve done a great deal of thinking in the last few days. About your suggestion, among other things.’

That set me thinking too. What suggestion? Then I remembered.

‘You mean about coming back with me and living in Colophonius Regenschein’s compound?’

‘I’ve ceased to belong among the living up there, but neither do I belong among the dead down here. Perhaps I could exist in an intermediate zone. It’s worth a try.’

‘That would be wonderful!’ I exclaimed. Once aroused, my nostalgia for the world above was starting to displace my yearning for the Library of the Orm.

‘There’s a problem, though,’ Homuncolossus added. ‘And the problem has a name.’

‘Pfistomel Smyke,’ I said gloomily.

‘We won’t have a chance up there unless we eliminate him first. That’s my one condition: you must help me to get rid of him. If you promise me that, I’ll guide you to the surface.’

This time I didn’t have to think twice. Enthusiasm was steadily clearing my head. ‘Agreed,’ I said. ‘But how do you propose to go about it?’

‘If we worsted the most dangerous creature in the bowels of Bookholm, we can dispose of the most dangerous creature on the surface of the city.’

‘That’s the spirit!’ I cried. ‘Let’s go!’

‘But there’s something I must attend to first.’

‘What’s that?’ I asked. There had to be a snag, of course.

‘I must rid the Leather Grotto of those verminous invaders. I want to leave my kingdom in good order. You can help me to do that too.’

I’m bound to admit, dear readers, that my joyful sense of anticipation was blighted by the prospect of accompanying Homuncolossus back to the Leather Grotto and tackling the most vicious and ruthless of the Bookhunters
à deux.
I was already wishing myself back in the Library of the Orm, but it was too late to renege on our bargain now.

W
e were followed at first by only a handful of Animatomes when we prepared to leave Shadowhall Castle. The Shadow King strode resolutely on ahead, never hesitating for a moment when we came to an intersection.

‘How do you manage to find your way out every time?’ I asked him. ‘Is there a special method?’

‘I don’t know what Pfistomel Smyke did to my eyes,’ he said, ‘but I can now see things I never saw before, even microscopically small things. These walls don’t look the same to me as they do to you. I can detect every tiny little difference between them. To me it’s as if they’re all covered with different wallpapers. That’s an aid to finding my bearings. Even though they occasionally surprise me by changing their location, they always resume their original places in the end. It takes a bit longer on some occasions than others, but I’ve never failed to find my way out.’

I noticed that the number of Animatomes following us had doubled in a very short time. We were now joined by a few Weeping Shadows, which sobbed as they flitted after us. More and more of them appeared, transforming our departure from Shadowhall into a regular procession. More Shadows glided out of every passage and more Animatomes came scuttling, crawling or fluttering out of every dark corner until our retinue was thousands strong.

Nor was it only the Weeping Shadows that made mournful noises: the Animatomes sniffed and whimpered as if aware that their Shadow King was leaving them for ever. My own mood darkened too. I had developed a great affection for Shadowhall Castle and its weird inhabitants; in fact, it had temporarily become my second home. Having experienced and learnt so much there, I would always remember it with nostalgia. However our adventure turned out, it was unlikely that I would ever see the place again.

The Shadow King himself was not unmoved, I could tell. His steps became steadily slower and he occasionally emitted sounds that betrayed his emotional turmoil, so it was with a combination of gloom and relief that we finally emerged from the castle. I would never have believed that this long-awaited moment would inspire me with such mixed feelings.

Once outside we were greeted by moist heat and the crimson glow of molten lava. The Animatomes, which had streamed out of the castle in our wake, climbed up its walls for a long-range view of our departure. The Weeping Shadows remained in the entrance, sobbing with such abandon that we could still hear them when we had already ascended the long flight of steps and passed through the gateway into the next cave.

I
entered the Leather Grotto on my own. It was an appalling spectacle. The shelves were almost denuded of books, the furniture had been reduced to mounds of ash, the leather sheathing dangled from the walls in shreds. The book machine, which was a defunct wreck, had evidently served the Bookhunters as a source of scrap metal. Whole stairways and ladders, handrails and shelves had been removed and dismantled. A smell of burnt paper hung in the air.

I counted fourteen Bookhunters, all armed to the teeth as usual. They were seated on the ground in small groups, passing bottles of wine from hand to hand. One of them had climbed up the book machine and was trying to wrench off a handrail. Rongkong Koma was nowhere to be seen.

‘I must request you to leave the Leather Grotto at once!’ I called in a slightly tremulous voice. Those were the words Homuncolossus had told me to say. I was acting as bait again.

The Bookhunters, who appeared to be in various stages of intoxication, noticed me for the first time. They scrambled to their feet and made noises expressive of amazement. One or two of them burst out laughing.

‘It’s that fat Lindworm who disappeared into the machine,’ said one. ‘But he isn’t as fat as he was. He’s lost weight.’

‘Where have you been all this time?’ asked another, who had sewn himself a horrific mask out of strips of leather wallpaper. ‘We missed you.’

‘That’s a great trick of yours,’ cried a third, ‘disappearing into the machine and walking in at the door months later. You should perform it on the stage, except that the audience might get bored waiting all that time.’

They were now converging on me from all directions - all save the one on the book machine, who remained where he was.

‘I must request you again to leave the Leather Grotto at once,’ I called. ‘That’s an order from the Shadow King.’ My voice sounded even more half-hearted this time. Where had Homuncolossus got to? He might at least have told me how he proposed to extricate me from this situation.

‘The Shadow King, eh?’ cried a Bookhunter. ‘Why doesn’t he come and tell us to leave himself? The price on your head has been increased, Lindworm. Lucky for us you’ve been away so long, it’s boosted your value immensely.’

My repertoire was exhausted.