The City of Dreaming Books (67 page)

‘I must request you to leave the Leather Grotto at once!’ I said again, for want of any better idea.

‘You’re repeating yourself,’ one of the Bookhunters retorted thickly. ‘An inhabitant of Lindworm Castle ought to have a better way with words.’

The others laughed sarcastically. The individual who had remained high up on the ruined book machine was cocking a huge crossbow, I noticed. It seemed that he was planning to scoop the reward with a leisurely shot fired at long range.

‘I must request you to leave the Leather Grotto at once!’ I croaked yet again. Where the devil was the Shadow King? I would be dead within seconds!

The Bookhunter raised his crossbow and took aim. Just then, Homuncolossus emerged from the machine’s shadowy interior without a sound. He came up behind the Bookhunter and gripped both his arms. Before his captive could say anything, Homuncolossus had aimed the crossbow at another Bookhunter and pulled the trigger. The bolt caught its target in the back, at a spot where he wore no armour, and he collapsed in the midst of his startled companions. Homuncolossus released the crossbow and leapt back into the machine.

Utterly at a loss, the Bookhunter picked up his discharged weapon. ‘Listen, friends, I—’ was all he managed to say before six crossbow bolts hit him. Five bounced off, but the sixth found its way through a crack in his armour and lodged there. He toppled over the handrail, crashed to floor of the cave and lay still.

The others were utterly flummoxed. They didn’t know what merited their attention more: me or the corpse of the fellow Bookhunter whom they had just instinctively shot.

Then a familiar sound came drifting through the Leather Grotto. It caused the Bookhunters to spin round and grip their weapons more tightly. To me it meant I must turn on my heel and quit that scene of devastation.

It was the sigh of the Shadow King.

T
hat was the prearranged signal. Homuncolossus had ordained that, as soon as the sigh rang out, I should take to my heels and hide outside the cave.

Only too glad to! I sprinted outside and hunkered down behind a boulder. If the Shadow King had instructed me to behave like a coward, I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to do so. I listened tensely.

Silence at first. Then came a startled exclamation. Someone yelled, ‘Look out!’ The clash of weapons, hectic words of command, a bestial cry of pain. Then utter pandemonium: the din of battle, a babble of screams and oaths, the Shadow King’s hoarse breathing. An apelike bellow of fury. The clatter of a heavy suit of armour being hurled against a wall complete with occupant. Horrible gurgling sounds. The whistle of crossbow bolts. A cry of mortal agony. And another. Someone sobbed, but not for long. Another apelike bellow.

Then silence.

Again I heard the clatter of armour. Then a Bookhunter came staggering out of the cave, streaming with blood. Homuncolossus followed at his heels.

I emerged from my hiding place just as they both came to a halt.

‘Why don’t you kill me?’ whimpered the Bookhunter.

‘You should know,’ Homuncolossus replied. ‘There must always be one survivor left to tell the tale, or there would soon be no stories left to fill the pages of books and you’d be out of work, since books are what you live on. So go and spread the story of the battle of the Leather Grotto. And be sure to tell everyone that the Shadow King will be living here from now on, and that anyone who dares to disturb him will suffer the same fate as your cronies. And now be off with you!’

The Bookhunter tottered off, leaving a sticky red trail behind him.

Homuncolossus turned and went back into the cave.

‘You stay here,’ he called over his shoulder.

‘What are you going to do?’ I asked.

‘I must erect a monument,’ he said.

So I stayed where I was and waited to see what would happen.

He soon returned with a severed head under each arm. I was very glad they were wearing their martial helmets, so I was spared the sight of the contorted, lifeless faces inside them.

Homuncolossus deposited the heads on the ground and returned to the cave. He repeated this process several times until his monument was complete: a grisly sculpture composed of thirteen Bookhunters’ heads in their horrific helmets.

‘A pity there were so few of them,’ he said. ‘This monument is meant for the dead Booklings, but even more so for the survivors. No one but they will ever venture into the Leather Grotto again. I hope they’ll return some day and make it their home once more.’

I now felt ashamed of having made only a chicken-hearted contribution to the battle of the Leather Grotto.

‘Come,’ he said, ‘let’s go up above. We still have a giant to slay.’

G
o up . . . Such a simple, easy, innocuous expression for such an arduous procedure. I had begun to believe in the impossibility of ascending. How often I’d yearned to do so in the recent past, only to descend even deeper!

Homuncolossus conducted me along a series of seemingly endless passages through the rock. That they seemed endless was mainly because none of them led upwards, always straight ahead and sometimes, even, downhill. After roughly a day’s march, however, we came to a shaft that really did lead straight upwards. It was a narrow chimney just wide enough to admit us and containing sufficient ledges and protrusions for us to be able to climb it.

‘Are you sure it doesn’t become too narrow at some stage, or simply peter out?’ I asked.

‘Absolutely sure,’ Homuncolossus told me. ‘I’ve often used it.’

‘Colophonius Regenschein mentioned a shaft like this,’ I said. ‘He said it was too narrow to harbour anything very dangerous.’

‘So Regenschein knew about this shaft, did he?’ said Homuncolossus. ‘Well, he must have done, because there isn’t another one like it. He’s full of surprises, even in death. Still, he was wrong about one thing.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The absence of anything very dangerous. This shaft harbours the greatest danger of all.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ll see when the time comes.’

The Shadow King and his mysterious allusions! I couldn’t imagine life without them now.

So we started climbing. It wasn’t much more difficult than ascending a flight of stairs, thanks to all the footholds. Homuncolossus, with a jellyfish torch strapped to his head like a miner’s lamp, took the lead. He climbed fast, but I found to my surprise that I could keep up with him quite well.

After a few hours, however, my limbs began to feel a trifle heavy with fatigue. I wondered how much longer the ascent would take. Not much longer, I surmised, in view of the distance we had already covered. Although I hadn’t asked before, not wanting to be thought a weakling, the question now seemed appropriate.

‘Another three days,’ I was told.

My legs turned to jelly and I stopped climbing. I realised for the first time how deep the shaft was. It stretched away above us for miles.

‘Three days?’ I said, aghast. ‘How am I supposed to manage it?’

‘No idea,’ he said. ‘I myself have only just realised what an impossibility it must seem to you. Nowadays it never occurs to me that someone may not be as strong as I am. What do you think?’

‘What do I think?‘ I wailed. ‘You’re crazy, that’s what!’

‘Shouting won’t help,’ he said. ‘Better save your strength, you’ll need it.’

‘I’m going back down,’ I said defiantly.

‘I wouldn’t advise it. Even I use a different route for going down. Know why climbing up is so much easier than climbing down? Because our eyes are in our heads. You don’t see where you’re putting your feet.’

I was incapable of moving in either direction.

‘It’s there already, isn’t it?’ said Homuncolossus.

‘What is?’

‘The greatest danger of all.’

‘The greatest danger of all? Here? Where? Where is it?’ Panic-stricken, I looked round for some fat snake or venomous tunnel spider, but there was nothing to be seen.

‘It’s inside you,’ said Homuncolossus. ‘Fear.’

True, I was terribly frightened. I dared not advance or retreat. It was like a form of paralysis.

‘You must conquer it
now
,’ he said, ‘or it’ll conquer you.’

‘And how am I to do
that
, pray?’

‘Simply go on climbing. It’s like writing a novel. Everything’s quite straightforward at first - the early chapters go with a tremendous swing, but sooner or later you begin to tire. You look back and see you’re only halfway through. You look ahead and see you still have as much again to write. If you lose heart at that stage, you’ve had it. It’s easy enough to start something. Finishing it is the hard part.’

That was simply great, dear readers! It wasn’t enough that the Shadow King had placed me in a life-threatening situation - no, he now insisted on spouting facile words of wisdom.

‘If Regenschein knew about this shaft he must have climbed it,’ said Homuncolossus. ‘That means it can be done. We’ve already come a fair way and you’ve coped pretty well so far.’

For the first time, I became aware that I wasn’t as fat as I had been when consigned to the catacombs. I’d taken a lot of exercise lately and I hadn’t had much to eat. Even one of the Bookhunters had remarked on how much weight I’d lost. Hadn’t I kept up with the Shadow King until now? Yes, I had never been in better shape.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Let’s keep going.’

We climbed for hour after hour without my having to request another breather. It was Homuncolossus who eventually paused and told me we had completed the first third of the ascent. We took a longish rest, just sitting on a ledge in silence, then resumed the climb.

The second stage proved more strenuous. It had been a mistake to rest, I thought, because my limbs now felt heavier and less supple than before. I was also conscious of all the cuts and abrasions my paws had sustained from contact with the jagged rock. It wasn’t long before I felt as if I were wearing a suit of lead armour. My legs were so numb, I couldn’t feel where I was putting my feet. This sensation stole gradually up my body until it reached my head and I wondered whether to ask for another rest. Still debating this question, I dozed off in mid climb. By the time I started to fall I was already in the land of dreams.