Perdido Street Station (21 page)

Lin felt Isaac nudge
her. He pointed at one clutch of blocks, close to the railway.

"See that?"
She nodded. "Look up top."

Lin followed his
fingers. The bottom half of the big buildings looked deserted. From
the sixth or seventh floor up, however, wooden boughs poked at odd
angles out of crevices. The windows were covered with brown paper,
unlike the empty sockets. And way up on the flat roofs, at nearly the
same level as Lin and Isaac, little figures were visible.

Lin followed Isaac’s
gesture up into the air. She felt a jolt of excitement. Winged
creatures were visible sporting in the sky.

"Those are
garuda," Isaac said.

Lin and Isaac walked
down the hill towards the railway lines, bearing slightly to their
right to arrive at the garudas’ looming makeshift eyries.

"Almost all the
garuda in the city live in those four buildings. There probably
aren’t two thousand in the whole of New Crobuzon. That makes
them about...uh...nought point fucking nought three per cent of the
population..." Isaac grinned. "I’ve been doing my
research, see?"

But they don’t
all
live here. What about Krakhleki?

"Oh sure, I mean,
there
are
garuda that get out. I taught one once, nice geezer.
There’s probably a couple in Dog Fenn, three or four in
Murkside, six in Gross Coil. Jabber’s Mound and Syriac each
have a handful, I’ve heard. And once or twice a generation,
someone like Krakhleki makes it big. I’ve never read his stuff,
by the way. Is he any good?" Lin nodded. "Right, so you’ve
got people like him, and others...you know, what’s the name of
that fucker...the one in the Diverse Tendency...Shashjar, that’s
the one. They stick him in to prove the DTs are for
all
xenians." Isaac made a rude noise. " ‘Specially the
rich ones."

But most of them are
here. And when you’re here, it must be difficult to get out...

"I’d suppose
so. Bit of an understatement, in fact..."

They crossed a brook
and slowed as they approached the out-lands of Spatters. Lin crossed
her arms and shook her headbody.

What am I doing
here?
she signed sardonically.

"You’re
expanding your mind," said Isaac cheerfully. "Important to
learn how other races live in our fair city."

He tugged at her arm
until, mock-protesting, Lin allowed him to drag her out of the shade
of the trees and into Spatters.

**

To get into Spatters,
Isaac and Lin had to cross rickety bridges, planks thrown across the
eight-foot ditch that separated the township from Vaudois Hill park.
They walked in single file, their arms sometimes outstretched for
balance.

Five feet below them,
the trench was filled with a noisome gelatinous soup of shit and
pollutants and acid rain. The surface was broken with bubbles of fell
gas and bloated animal corpses. Here and there bobbed rusting tins
and knots of fleshy tissue like tumours or aborted foetuses. The
liquid undulated rather than rippled, contained by a thick surface
tension so oily and strong that it would not break: the pebbles that
fell from the bridge were swallowed without the slightest splash.

Even with one hand
clapped over his mouth and nose against the stench, Isaac could not
contain himself. Halfway across the plank he let out a bark of
revulsion that turned into a retch. He controlled himself before he
puked. To stagger on that bridge, to lose one’s balance and
fall, was too utterly vile a thought to consider.

The taste of the slurry
in the air made Lin feel nearly as queasy as Isaac. By the time they
stepped onto the other side of the wooden slats, both Lin’s and
Isaac’s good humour had entirely worn off. They trudged in
silence into the maze.

Lin found it easy to
orient herself with such low buildings: the copse of blocks they
sought was clearly visible just before the station. Sometimes she
walked ahead of Isaac, sometimes he ahead of her. They picked their
way over channels of sewage that ran between houses. They were
unmoved. They were beyond disgust.

The inhabitants of
Spatters came to stare.

Sour-faced men and
women, and hundreds of children, all dressed in bizarre combinations
of rescued clothes and sewn sackcloth. Little hands and fingers
clutched at Lin as she passed. She slapped at them, walked in front
of Isaac. Voices all around them started murmuring, and then a
clamouring for money started up. No one made any attempt to stop
them.

Isaac and Lin trudged
stolidly through the twisted streets, keeping the towerblocks in
their sights. They trailed a crowd. As they grew closer, the shapes
of the garuda fleeting through the air above became clear.

A fat man nearly as
large as Isaac stepped out in front of them.

"Squire, bugger,"
he shouted curtly, nodding at both of them. His eyes were quick.
Isaac nudged Lin, indicated her to stop.

"What d’you
want?" said Isaac impatiently.

The man spoke very
quickly.

"Well, visitors
being unco down the Spatters I was chewing on whether you’d
fancy a little helpster, like."

"Don’t be an
arse, man," Isaac roared. "I’m not a
visitor.
Last time I was here I was the guest of Savage Peter," he
continued ostentatiously. He paused for the whispers that the name
invoked. "Now, at the present I’m after a little chinwag
with them." He jerked his finger at the garuda. The fat man
recoiled slightly.

"You’re for
conflabbing with the bird-boys? What’s that about, squire?"

"None of your
sodding business! Question is, do you want to take me to their
mansion?"

The man held up his
hands, conciliatory.

"Shouldn’t
have pried, squire, none of my concerns. Smiley to take you to the
bird-boxes, for a measly little recompo."

"Oh, for Jabber’s
sake. Don’t worry, you’ll be taken care of. Just
don’t"
yelled Isaac at everyone in the staring crowd, "be arsing around
with ideas of muggery and thievery. I’ve just enough to pay a
decent guide on me, not a stiver more, and I know that Savage will be
screaming fucking livid
if anything happened to an old mate on
his turf."

"Please, guwo,
you’re insultering the Spatterkin. Not another sound, just be
tracing on me tail, how’s that?"

"Lead on, man,"
said Isaac.

As they wound through
the dripping concrete and rusted iron roofs, Lin turned to Isaac.

What in Jabber’s
name was all that? Who’s Savage Peter?

Isaac signed as he
walked.

Load of bollocks.
Came here once with Lemuel on a...dubious errand, met Savage. Local
big man. Didn’t even know for sure he was still alive! Wouldn’t
remember me.

Lin was exasperated.
She could not believe the Spatterkin were taken in by Isaac’s
preposterous routine. But they were definitely being led towards the
garudas’ tower. Maybe what she’d witnessed was more like
a ritual than any real confrontation. Maybe, alternatively, Isaac had
kidded and scared no one at all. Maybe they were helping him out of
pity.

The makeshift hovels
lapped up against the bases of the towerblocks like little waves.
Lin’s and Isaac’s guide beckoned them enthusiastically
and gesticulated at the four blocks positioned in a square. In the
shadowy space between them a garden had been planted, with twisted
trees desperately reaching for direct light. Succulents and hardy
weeds burst from the scrubland. Garuda circled under the cloud-cover.

"There’s
your aim, squire!" said the man proudly.

Isaac hesitated.

"How do I...I
don’t want to just plough on up unannounced..." he
faltered. "Uh...how can I attract their attention?"

The guide held out his
hand. Isaac stared at him a minute, then fumbled for a shekel. The
man beamed at it and put it in his pocket. Then he turned and stepped
a little way back from the building’s walls, put his fingers to
his mouth and whistled.

"Oy!" he
yelled. "Bird-bonce! Squire wants to parley!"

The crowd that still
surrounded Isaac and Lin took up the yells enthusiastically. A
raucous yelling announced to the garuda above that they had visitors.
A contingent of the flying shapes congregated in the air above the
Spatters crowd. Then with an invisible adjustment of the wings, three
of them plummeted spectacularly towards the ground.

There was a gasp and
appreciative whistling.

The three garuda
dropped like the dead towards the waiting crowd. Twenty feet from the
ground they twitched their outstretched wings and broke their
precipitous falls. They beat the air heavily, sending massive gusts
of wind and dust into the faces and eyes of the humans below them as
they hovered up and down, sinking a little, then rising, just out of
reach.

"What you all
shouting for?" screeched the garuda on the left.

"It’s
fascinating," whispered Isaac to Lin. "His voice is avian,
but nothing like as difficult to understand as Yagharek...Ragamoll
must be his native language, he’s probably never spoken
anything else."

Lin and Isaac stared at
the magnificent creatures. The garuda were nude to the waist, their
legs covered in thin brown pantaloons. One had black feathers and
skin; the other two were dark tan. Lin gazed at those enormous wings.
They stretched and beat with a massive span, at least twenty feet.

"This squire
here..." began the guide, but Isaac interrupted him.

"Good to meet
you," he yelled up. "I’ve got a proposal for you. Any
chance we could have a chat?"

The three garuda looked
at each other.

"What you
want
?"
yelled the black-feathered one.

"Well, look—"
Isaac gesticulated at the crowd "—this isn’t really
how I was envisaging this discussion. Is there anywhere private we
could go?"

"You bet!"
said the first one. "See you up there!"

The three pairs of
wings boomed in concert and the garuda disappeared into the sky,
leaving Isaac wailing behind them.

"Wait!" he
shouted. It was too late. He looked around for the guide.

"I don’t
suppose," Isaac asked him, "the lift’s working in
there, is it?"

"Never got put in,
squire." The guide grinned wickedly. "Best be getting
started."

**

"Dear sweet
Jabber’s arse, Lin...go on without me. I’m dying. I’m
just going to lie here and die."

Isaac lay on the
mezzanine between the sixth and seventh floors. He hissed and wheezed
and spat. Lin stood over him, her hands on her hips with
exasperation.

Get up, you fat
bastard,
she signed.
Yes, exhausting. Me too. Think of the
gold. Think of the science.

Moaning as if he were
being tortured, Isaac staggered to his feet. Lin chivvied him to the
edge of the concrete stairs. He swallowed and braced himself, then
staggered on up.

The stairwell was grey
and unlit except by light filtering round corners and through cracks.
Only now, as they emerged onto the seventh floor, did the stairs look
as if they had ever been used. Rubbish began to build up around their
feet. The stairs were grubby rather than thick in fine dust. At each
floor were two doors, and the harsh sounds of garuda conversations
were audible through the splintered wood.

Isaac settled into a
slow, miserable pace. Lin followed him, ignoring his declarations of
imminent heart attack. After several long, painful minutes, they had
reached the top floor.

Above them was the door
onto the roof. Isaac leaned against the wall and wiped his face. He
was drenched in sweat.

"Just give me a
minute, sweetheart," he murmured, and even managed to grin. "Oh
gods! For the sake of science, right? Get your camera ready...All
right. Here we go."

He stood and breathed
slowly, then strode slowly up the last flight to the door, opened it
and walked out into the flat light on the roof. Lin followed, her
camera in her hands.

Khepri eyes needed no
time to adjust from light to darkness and back again. Lin stepped out
onto a rough concrete roof littered with rubbish and broken concrete
and saw Isaac desperately shielding his eyes and squinting. She
looked coolly around her.

A little way to the
north-east rose Vaudois Hill, a sinuous wedge of high land which rose
up as if trying to block the view to the centre of the city. The
Spike, Perdido Street Station, Parliament, the Glasshouse dome: all
were visible, butting their way over that raised horizon. Opposite
the hill, Lin saw miles and miles of Rudewood disappear over uneven
ground. Here and there little rock knolls broke free of the
leaf-cover. Off to the north there was a long uninterrupted line of
sight over to the middle-class suburbs of Serpolet and Gallmarch, the
militia tower of St. Jabber’s Mound, the raised tracks of the
Verso Line cutting through Creekside and Chimer. Lin knew that just
beyond those soot-stained arches two miles away was the twisting
course of the Tar, bearing barges and their cargo into the city from
the steppes of the south.

Isaac lowered his hands
as his pupils tightened.

Whirling over their
heads acrobatically were hundreds of garuda. They began to drop, to
spiral neatly out of the sky and drop to their clawed feet in rows
around Lin and Isaac. They fell thickly from the air like overripe
apples.

There were two hundred
at least, Lin estimated. She moved a little closer to Isaac
nervously. The garuda averaged at least a couple of inches over six
feet, not counting the magnificent peaks of their folded wings. There
was no difference in height or musculature between men and women. The
females wore thin shifts, the males wore loincloths or cut-off
trousers. That was all.