Un Lun Dun - China Mieville [94]
Deeba’s cry of triumph turned immediately into one of concern. She reached to plunge her hand after Diss, but the toilet was swirling madly, the water foaming, the level suddenly rising. The toilet overflowed violently, and the little brook that bubbled from it gushed and became a river.
“Where’s Diss? Where’s Diss?” Deeba shouted, but the little utterling was gone, lost in the clear water.
Parakeetus Claviger and several of his followers were dive-bombing Bling, and Deeba grabbed the terrified utterling and the featherkey.
She tried to fight her way through the increasing current. The water took her feet from under her and sent her sprawling.
“Come on!” shouted the book. Cavea’s human hands swatted birds. “We can’t help the utterling. We have to go!”
“Ow!” Deeba crawled out of the water. A fish with a vicious jutting jaw was attached to her leg, biting her even through her trousers. The explorers got out of the toilet, shielding themselves from parakeet attack and trying to stay out of the water.
They stumbled along the side of the new rising river, which tore down the corridor and to the stairs.
Its waters bubbled with more than just its current.
“Don’t fall in,” yelled the book. “It’s teeming with piranhas!”
They retraced their steps as fast as they could, hurrying under a new crop of leeches, leaping over predatory creepers. The birds followed them, scratching, through several layers of trees, but gradually began to leave them alone. Deeba heard harsh cawing. Cavea whistled.
“It’s the beta males,” the book said, jostling under Mr. Cavea’s arm. “We’ve done them a favor. Now they get to fight to become the alpha, the main key-carrier.”
“Less talking…” said Hemi. “More getting out.”
It took them some time, even traveling as fast as they could, to get all the way down the stairs. No one said very much.
“I…I’m so sorry about Diss,” Deeba said to Bling.
“It’s not your fault, Deeba,” the book said. She didn’t answer.
They were descending beside what was a dangerous river, now, rather than the trickle it had been. Every so often a particularly voracious piranha would hurl itself from the water and at them. They dodged and climbed and slipped down muddy slopes, clinging to roots and stumps.
They paused at the bottom of the stairs to catch their breath. There were only a few meters—though they were those oddly behaved meters, Deeba remembered—to the front door.
“It’s not far,” Hemi said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Can you hear something?” Deeba said. They listened. “There it is again.”
Coming towards them, faint at first, but growing quickly louder, was a hacking, whacking sound. The leaves and trunks of the corridor were shaking with each stroke.
“What the…?” Hemi said.
Cavea whistled.
“He says he’ll go and look,” the book said. But even as Cavea reached up to undo his cage door, the sound was suddenly right up close to them, and the curtain of leaves beside them was violently split open.
Standing before them was a man swinging a big blade. There was a hacked path behind him. He stared at the travelers, who were momentarily frozen.
His skin was wrinkled and mottled. His face was slack, his jaw hanging. He leaked dark smoke from the corners of his mouth and from his empty eye sockets.
The man had obviously been dead for some time. He raised his machete and stumbled towards them.
65
The Smoky Dead
Deeba stumbled. She heard Curdle squeak in her bag. Cauldron leapt at the attacker, but the dead man backhanded him away.
An awful stink of old meat and burning sulfur filled the air. Deeba tried to crawl away, but the man bore down on her with his fast shambling step and raised his blade.
Deeba screamed as it swung down.
But the blow stopped descending. The man looked up with smoke eyes. His weapon had