Perdido Street Station - China Mieville [245]
“I . . . I could sort of . . . sense it. We’ve dealt with it before. It said it might see us again . . .”
Pengefinchess glanced at Tansell and Shadrach. Derkhan spoke hurriedly.
“It’s true,” she said. “Ask Pigeon. He saw the thing.” Reluctantly, Lemuel nodded that yes, he had.
“But there’s not much we can do about it,” he said. “We can’t control the bugger, and if he comes for us or them, we’re pretty much at the mercy of events. He might do nothing. You said it yourself, ’Zaac: he’ll do whatever he wants.”
“So,” said Shadrach slowly, “we’re still going in. Any arguments?” There were none. “Right. You, garuda. You’ve seen them. You saw where they came from. You should come. So it’s me, the prof, the bird-man and the constructs. The rest of you stay here, and do exactly what Tansell and Penge tell you. Understood?”
Lemuel nodded, uncaring. There was a glowering moment with Derkhan, as she swallowed her resentment. Shadrach’s hard, commanding tone was impressive. She might not like him, she might think him worthless scum, but he knew his business. He was a killer, and that was what they needed right now. She nodded.
“First sign of any trouble you get out of here. Back to the sewers. Disappear. Regroup at the dump tomorrow, if need be. Understood?” This time he was speaking to Pengefinchess and Tansell. They nodded brusquely. The vodyanoi was whispering to her elemental and checking through her quiver. Some of her arrows were complicated affairs, with thin, spring-loaded blades that would whip out on contact to slice almost with the savagery of a rivebow.
Tansell was checking his guns. Shadrach hesitated a moment, then unbuckled his blunderbuss and handed it to the taller man, who accepted it with a nod of thanks.
“I’ll be at close quarters,” said Shadrach. “I’ll not need it.” He drew his carved pistol. The dæmonic face at the end of the muzzle seemed to move in the half-light. Shadrach whispered; it seemed as if he was speaking to his gun. Isaac suspected that the weapon was thaumaturgically enhanced.
Shadrach, Isaac and Yagharek walked slowly away from the group.
“Constructs!” Isaac hissed. “With us.” There was a pistoned hissing and the shudder of metal as the five compact little simian bodies came away with them.
Isaac and Shadrach looked over at Yagharek, then tested their mirror-helms to make sure their reflected vision was clear.
Tansell was standing before the little huddling group, making notes in a little book. He looked up, pursed his lips and stared at Shadrach, his head on one side. He looked up at the torches above them, took in the angle of the roofs that loomed over them. He scrawled obscure formulae.
“I’m going to try and get a veil-hex going,” he said. “You’re too visible. There’s no point asking for trouble.” Shadrach nodded. “Shame we can’t get the constructs as well, really.” Tansell motioned the automated apes out of the way. “Penge, will you help?” he said. “Channel a bit of puissance my way, will you? This shit is draining.”
The vodyanoi crept over a little and placed her left hand in Tansell’s right. Both of them concentrated, their eyes closing. There was no movement or sound for a minute; then, as Isaac watched, both their eyes fluttered blearily open at the same moment.
“Extinguish those damn lights,” hissed Tansell, and Pengefinchess’s mouth moved silently with his. Shadrach and the others looked around, unsure what he was referring to, when they saw him glaring at the flaming streetlamps above them.
Quickly, Shadrach beckoned Yagharek. He strode over to the nearest lamp and linked his hands, making a step. He braced his legs.
“Use your cloak,” he said. “Get up there and smother the flame.”
Isaac was probably the only person to see Yagharek’s infinitesimal hesitation. He realized the bravery he was seeing as Yagharek obeyed, preparing to tangle up and ruin his last disguise. Yagharek undid the clasp at his throat and stood before them all, his beaked and feathered head uncovered, the enormous emptiness behind his back shriekingly visible,