Perdido Street Station - China Mieville [257]
“Godspit, they must’ve heard all that ruckus,” hissed Isaac. “We have to damn well move, or we’re dead. One at a time.” He grabbed Yagharek and braced his arms behind the garuda’s back. “You first, Yag. You’re quicker and harder to see. Go. Go.” He pushed Yagharek out into the street.
Yagharek was not wrong-footed. He sprinted lightly, increasing speed. It was not panicked flight which might attract attention. He kept his pace just low enough that if one of the cactus people glimpsed motion, they might think it one of their own people. The shadows and stillness still varnished his fleeting figure.
It was forty feet to the darkness. Isaac held his breath, watching the muscles move beneath Yagharek’s scarred back.
The cactus people were jabbering in their harsh pidgin, arguing over who was to go in. Two swung huge hammers, taking turns to batter the bricked-up entrance to the last low house where, for all Isaac knew, the slake-moths and the Weaver still danced lethally together.
The darkness of the alley accepted Yagharek.
Isaac breathed deep, then stepped out into the alley himself.
He strode quickly away from the doorway, into the open street, willing his uncanny shade-covering to deepen. He began to jog towards the alleyway.
As he reached the midway point of the junction, there was a buffeting, a storm of wings. Isaac looked back and up at the window, on the vertex of the wedge of architecture.
Scrabbling at it with a repulsive desperation, the third slake-moth pushed its way through into the interior, returning home.
His breath caught, but the beast was ignoring him, its fervour reserved for its ruined spawn.
As Isaac turned his face again, he realized that the cactacae at the far end of the street had also heard the sound. From where they stood, they could not see the window, could not see the monstrous form infiltrating the house. But they could see Isaac running from them, fat and furtive.
“Oh shit,” breathed Isaac, and broke into a full, lumbering run.
There was a confusion of yells. One voice rose above the shouting and snapped orders. Several cactus warriors broke away from the congregation by the door and ran straight for Isaac.
They were not fast, but neither was he. They carried their massive weapons expertly, unimpeded as they ran.
Isaac sprinted as best he could.
“I’m on your damn side!” he shouted uselessly as he ran. His words were inaudible. Even if they had heard him, it was inconceivable that the cactus warriors, frightened and bewildered and pugnacious, would have paid any heed before killing him.
The cactacae were yelling, screaming for other patrols. There were answering shouts from neighbouring streets.
An arrow snapped from the alley before Isaac, whipping past him and thudding into some flesh behind. There was a gasp and a curse of pain from one of his pursuers. Isaac made out shapes in the darkness of the alley. Pengefinchess resolved from shadows, drawing back her bowstring once more. She bellowed at him to hurry. Behind her, Tansell stood with the blunderbuss drawn, aiming it uncertainly over her head. His eyes were scanning desperately behind Isaac. He shouted something.
Derkhan and Lemuel and Yagharek were crouched a little way behind, ready to run. Yagharek held his whip coiled and ready.
Isaac raced into the darkness.
“Where’s Shad?” screamed Tansell again.
“Dead,” shouted Isaac. Instantly, Tansell screamed with horrible anguish. Pengefinchess did not look up, but her arm spasmed and she almost dropped her arrow. She paused and aimed again. Tansell shot wildly over her head. The blunderbuss boomed and he staggered with the recoil. A great cloud of buckshot sprayed harmlessly over the heads of the cactus people.
“No!” shouted Tansell. “Oh Jabber no!” He was staring at Isaac, begging to be told that it was not true.
“I’m sorry, mate, truly, but we have to fucking go,” said Isaac urgently.
“He’s right, Tan,” said Pengefinchess, her voice desperately steady. She fired another arrow, with the spring-loaded blade that sliced a great gouge of