Perdido Street Station - China Mieville [184]
“They make some mention of the generous funds they have provided the government and the Fat Sun party over the years. We have been given our orders, ladies and gentlemen. They are not at all happy about the slake-moths, and would like such dangerous animals contained forthwith. But not surprisingly, they are having a conniption about the possibility of crisis energy. Now, we searched the warehouse very thoroughly last night, and there is absolutely no sign of any such apparatus. We have to consider the possibility that der Grimnebulin is mistaken or lying. But in case he’s not, we must also bear in mind that he may have taken his engine and his notes with him last night. With,” he sighed heavily, “the Weaver.”
Stem-Fulcher spoke carefully. “Do we understand yet,” she ventured, “what happened?”
Rudgutter shrugged brusquely.
“We presented the evidence of the militia who saw the Weaver and heard what it said to Kapnellior. I’ve been trying to contact the thing, and I’ve had one curt, incomprehensible reply . . . It was scribbled in soot on my mirror. All we can say for sure is that it thought it improved the pattern of the worldweb to abduct der Grimnebulin and his friends from under our noses. We don’t know where it’s gone or why. Whether it’s left them alive. Anything really. Although Kapnellior’s quite confident it’s still hunting the moths.”
“What about the ears?” asked Stem-Fulcher.
“I have no idea!” shouted Rudgutter. “It made the web prettier! Obviously! So now we have twenty terrified, one-eared militia in the infirmary!” He calmed a little. “I have been thinking. It’s my belief that part of our problem is that we started with plans that were too grand. We’ll keep trying to locate the Weaver, but in the meantime we’re going to have to rely on less ambitious methods of moth-hunting. We are going to put together a unit of all our guards, militia, and scientists who have had any dealings with the creatures. We’re putting together a specialist squad. And we are going to do it in conjunction with Motley.” Stem-Fulcher and Rescue looked at him and nodded.
“It’s necessary. We’re pooling our resources. He has trained men, as do we. We have set procedures in motion. He will have his units, and we will have ours, but they will operate in tandem. Motley and his men have an unconditional amnesty on all criminal activity while we conduct this operation.
“Rescue . . .” said Rudgutter quietly. “We need your particular skills. Quietly, of course. How many of your . . . kin do you think you can mobilize within a day? Knowing the nature of the operation . . . It is not without its dangers.”
MontJohn Rescue fingered his scarf again. He made a peculiar noise under his breath. “Ten or so,” he said.
“You’ll receive training, of course. You’ve worn a mirror-guard before, I think?” Rescue nodded. “Good. Because the sentience model of your kind is . . . broadly similar to a human’s, is it not? Your mind is as tempting to the moths as mine. Whatever your host?”
Rescue nodded again.
“We dream, Mr. Mayor,” he said in his flattened voice. “We can be prey.”
“I understand that. Your—and your kin’s—bravery will not go unnoticed. We will provide whatever we can to ensure your safety.” Rescue nodded without visible emotion. He stood slowly.
“Time being of such importance, I’ll make a start now on spreading the word.” He bowed. “You will have my squad by sundown tomorrow,” he said. He turned and left the room.
Stem-Fulcher turned to Rudgutter with pursed lips.
“He’s not too happy about this, is he?” she said. Rudgutter shrugged.
“He’s always known that his role might involve danger. The slake-moths are as much of a threat to his people as to ours.”
Stem-Fulcher nodded.
“How long ago was he taken? The original Rescue, I mean, the human one.”
Rudgutter calculated for a moment.
“Eleven years. He was planning to supersede me. Have you set the squad in motion?” he demanded. Stem-Fulcher sat back and drew lengthily on her clay pipe. Aromatic smoke danced.
“We’re going through two days’ intensive training today and tomorrow . . . you know,