The Scar - China Mieville [139]
Some of Tanner’s companions made nervous jokes about the she-anophelii. “Women,” they said, and laughed shakily about females of all species being bloodsuckers, and so on.
Tanner tried, for the sake of conviviality, but he could not bring himself to laugh at their idiocies.
There were two camps in the big, austere chamber. On one
side were the Armadans, and on the other the Dreer Samher cactacae. They watched each other warily. Captain Sengka was engaged in fierce Sunglari discussion with Hedrigall and two other Armadan cactus-people, and his crew watched and listened uncertainly. When, finally, Sengka and his crew stormed out, the Armadans relaxed. Hedrigall walked slowly to the wall and sat beside Tanner.
“Well, he don’t like me much,” he said, and grinned wearily. “Kept calling me a traitor.” He rolled his eyes. “But he’s not going to do anything stupid. He’s scared of Armada. I told him we’d be gone quickly, and that we’d brought nothing and we’d take nothing, but I also implied that if he cut up rough, he’d be declaring war. There ain’t going to be any trouble.”
After a time, Hedrigall noticed how Tanner was endlessly stroking his skin, how he licked his fingers and soothed it down. He left the big chamber, and Tanner was deeply touched when the cactus-man came back, fifteen minutes later, carrying three fat leather waterskins full of brine. Tanner drooled them over himself and sluiced the water through his gills.
Anophelii men came in and watched the Armadans. They nodded to each other, and hooted and whistled. Tanner watched the herbivorous men eat, forcing handfuls of garish flowers into their tight mouth orifices and sucking, with the same force, he supposed, with which their women drained living meat. Then they would eject the spent petals with a little burst of air, crushed and tissue-thin, drained of nectar and juices, colorless.
The Armadan crew were left to thirst and sweat for hours as the Lover and Tintinnabulum made plans. Eventually, Hedrigall and several other cactacae left the chamber, led by an anophelius.
The light that came through the shafts in the rock began to ebb away. Dusk came fast. Through the little rock slits, and in reflections in mirrors, Tanner could see that the sky was violet.
They were barracked uncomfortably wherever they sat and lay. The anophelii scattered reeds thickly around the room. The night was hot. Tanner removed his stinking shirt and folded it for a pillow. He doused himself in more brine and saw that, around the room, the other Armadans were also attempting what limited ablutions they could.
He had never been so tired. He felt as if every spark of energy had been sucked from him and replaced with the night heat. He rested his head on a makeshift pillow, damp with his own sweat, and even on that hard floor, that thin and ineffectual layer of vegetation (the smell of pollen and plant dust strong), he was very quickly asleep.
When he woke he thought it was only minutes later, but he saw the daylight and groaned miserably. His head ached, and he drank desperately from the jugs of water left them.
As the Armadans woke, the Lover and Doul and Coldwine stepped from the little side room, accompanied by the cactacae who had set out the previous night. They looked tired and dusty, but they were smiling. A very old anophelius was with them, dressed in the same robes as all his fellows, and with the same expression of calm interest.
The Lover faced the assembled Armadans. “This,” she said,
“is Krüach Aum.”
Krüach Aum stood beside her, bowing, his old eyes taking in the crowd.
“I know that many of you have been bemused by this trip,” the Lover said. “We’ve told you that there was something on this island that we need, that’s vital to the raising of the avanc. Well, this—“ She indicated Aum. “—is what we need. Krüach Aum knows how to raise an avanc.” She waited for that to sink in.
“We’ve come here to learn from him. There are many processes involved. The problems of containment and control