Perdido Street Station - China Mieville [187]
Isaac nodded slowly.
“I don’t know why . . . I have no idea why . . . but it’s true.” He thought back. “I heard Rudgutter outside, yelling something at it. It sounded like he wasn’t completely surprised it was there . . . he was trying to bribe it, I think. Maybe the damn fool’s been trying to do deals with it . . . Where are the others?”
Isaac looked around. There was nowhere to hide in the alcove, but across the little room was another just like it, completely swathed in darkness. Anything crouching within it would have been invisible in the shadow.
“We all woke up here,” said Derkhan. “All of us except Lemuel had these weird clothes on. Yagharek was . . .” She shook her head in confusion and touched her bloody wound gently. She winced. “Yagharek was shoehorned into some dollymop’s dress. There were a couple of lamps, lit and waiting for us when we woke. Lemuel and Yagharek told me what happened . . . Yagharek was talking . . . he was being very weird, talking about a web . . .” She shook her head.
“I understand that,” said Isaac heavily. He paused and felt his mind scurry in awe away from the vague memories he had. “You were unconscious when the Weaver hauled us out. You wouldn’t have seen what we saw . . . where he took us . . .”
Derkhan frowned. She had tears in her eyes.
“My damn . . . my damn ear hurts so much, ’Zaac,” she said. Isaac rubbed her shoulder clumsily, his face creasing, until she continued. “Anyway, you were out, so Lemuel took off, and Yagharek went with him.”
“What?” shouted Isaac, but Derkhan shushed him with her hands.
“You know Lemuel, you know the sort of work he does. It turns out he knows the sewers well. Apparently they can be a useful bolthole. He did a little reconnaissance trip into the tunnels, and came back actually knowing where we are.”
“Which is?”
“Murkside. He left and Yagharek demanded to go with him. They swore they’d be back within three hours. They’ve gone to get some food, some clothes for me and Yagharek, and to see the lay of the land. They left about an hour ago.”
“Well godsdamn, let’s go and join them . . .”
Derkhan shook her head.
“Don’t be an idiot, ’Zaac,” she said, sounding exhausted. “We can’t afford to get separated. Lemuel knows the sewers . . . they’re dangerous. He told us to stay put. There’s all manner of things down here . . . ghuls, trows, gods know what. That’s why I stayed with you while you were out. We have to wait for them here.
“And besides which, you’re probably the most wanted person in New Crobuzon right now. Lemuel’s a successful criminal: he knows how not to be seen. He’s at much less risk than you.”
“But what about Yag?” howled Isaac.
“Lemuel gave him his cloak. With the hood up and that dress torn up and wrapped round his feet, he just looked like a weird old man. Isaac, they’ll be back soon. We have to wait for them. We have to make plans. And you have to listen.” He looked up at her, concerned at her miserable tone.
“Why’s it taken us here, ’Zaac?” she said. Her face creased in pain. “Why did it hurt us, why did it dress us like this . . . ? Why didn’t it heal me . . . ?” She wiped tears of pain away angrily.
“Derkhan,” Isaac said gently. “I could never know . . .”
“You should see this,” she said, sniffing quickly. She handed him a crumpled and stinking sheet of newspaper. He took it slowly, his face curling with distaste as he touched the sodden, filthy thing.
“What is it?” he said, unfolding it.
“When we woke up, all disorientated and confused, it came bobbing down one of the little tunnels there, folded into a little boat.” She looked at him askance. “It was coming against the current. We fished it out.”
Isaac opened it out and looked at it. It was the centre pages from The Digest, one of New Crobuzon’s weekly papers. He saw from the date at the top of the page—9th Tathis 1779—that it had come out that same morning.
Isaac scanned his eyes over the little collection of stories. He shook his head in incomprehension.
“What am