Authors: Iain M. Banks

Feersum Endjinn (35 page)

BOOK: Feersum Endjinn

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Again, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. It looked like he was thinking hard. Finally he said - suddenly looking straight at her - ‘The tower.’

She ceased to push after him and glided on for some time, skates parallel, then felt herself brake gently. The man had stopped rowing, though his own momentum was still drawing him further away over the ice from her. He was frowning.

She came to a stop.

‘The tower,’ she whispered to herself.

The man who had called himself Hortis slowed and stopped the fragile-looking ice-boat, some distance off. He was looking at her strangely, his head tipped to one side. Then he angled one oar behind him and the other in front and pulled them together to turn the craft and come back to her.

The small craft rumbled a length past her and stopped. He shipped the claw-oars, leaning forward and looking intently at her. He gazed at her for a while, then appeared to come to a decision.

‘All right, then,’ he said. ‘Maybe I’ve been in here too long, or maybe I just can’t resist a pretty face, but I suppose it can’t do any harm.’ He gave a small smile. ‘I was one of a small group of scientists and mathematicians who opposed the Consistory. We believed their desire to hold on to power had entirely superseded any duty to govern for the general good; our conspiracy - which had started at university and never really been more than a secret club - became more serious when the Encroachment was discovered and we began to suspect that the Consistory - with the King as its puppet - was doing less than it might to find a solution to the emergency.

‘We pursued many different courses. We tried to contact the Cryptosphere’s chaotic levels, believing that at least part of the so-called chaos was in fact an AI nexus at odds with the Consistory’s philosophy. We set up secret transmitters in an attempt to contact the deep-space monitoring system the Diaspora was supposed to have left in watch over us, and we tried to elicit some sort of response from the fast-tower, where rumours had it that either an uncorrupted crypt core existed, or, again, elements remained which were still in touch with the Diaspora.

‘A couple of days ago, in base-time, we apparently received a signal from the heights of the fast-tower. It was . . . couched in slightly eccentric terms, but appeared to be genuine.

‘The signal confirmed some of our suspicions concerning the Consistory’s lack of sincerity in finding a way to defeat the Encroachment. It did not seem to indicate that it was in touch with whatever remains of our space-going ancestors, though it did talk of some system left behind by the Diaspora which might ensure the survival of all of us. The message - or at least its ramifications - led . . .’ the man sighed, and looked sad, ‘to our conspiracy being betrayed and me ending up here, and,’ he said, looking straight into her eyes, ‘it talked of another part of the crypt, some uncorrupted section which contained the key to the Diaspora-donated survival system. This key would be sent here, to Serehfa, and it would come in the form of something called an asura ...’ - he smiled, and in that smile she saw a kind of sadness, some defensive cynicism, and an unspoken hope - ‘. . . Asura,’ he finished. He shrugged. ‘Your turn.’

She looked down at him, while inside her mind what felt like great slabs of ice slipped and slotted, colliding, joining, fusing and interconnecting.

She took a deep breath.

‘Chief Scientist Gadfia?’

The voice had come from the scrawny-necked bird squatting on the shoulders of the ape-human who in turn sat behind the head of the chimeric mammoth. The ape-human glared down at her, grinning inanely. The other mammoths to either side shuffled a little in the darkness, pale human faces looking down from each of them as well. She gulped. ‘Well, sort of,’ she said.

—Hello? she said, inside, trying to find her own voice, but within was only silence.

‘All praise,’ the bird said, its voice echoing in the complex of hidden tunnels and galleries around them. The creature hopped to and fro from one foot to the other. ‘Love is god. Well met by darkness, truth-seeker Gadfia. For darkness gives birth to light. All here are hallowed, hallowed in hollow, the hollowness that supports, the centre that is the absence that gives strength, the hollow darkness that underlies supporting light, seeker-after-illumination Gadfia. Please (Hiddier: trunk!); come with us. There is work to do.’

The mammoth extended its trunk towards her; a giant, tapered hairy snake with a naked, glistening double orifice at the end from which a damp, subtly fetid gust of air issued.

She stared.

—Back.

—Thank goodness. Where did you—?

—I was snooping where I shouldn’t have been and I was almost caught by Security. Cut me off for a while.

—Good grief. Do you know where—?

—You’re riding through vast dark dripping tunnels on the back of a chimeric mammoth with a dumb, naked and deformed semi-human and a lammergeier that talks like some ancient preacher and reminds you of the message from the fast-tower.

—Correct. And I can’t get sense out of anybody. The bird spouts religious balderdash and the humanoid just grins, hoots and dribbles. I was thinking of asking the mammoth what was going on next.

—At least you went with them.

—Did I have a choice?

—I suppose you forgot about the gun.

—Oh.

—It doesn’t matter. You did the right thing. Never mind; guess who I’ve been talking to.

—Surprise me.

—The fast-tower.

—
What
?

—Well, an emissary thereof; it can’t get back in touch with the tower for fear of chaotic contamination, but it represents it.

—How? Where? What’s—?

—The representation just appeared in the crypt; an old white man with white hair and flowing white robes. The thing proliferated illegally - set off system crashes everywhere; everybody thought it was some vast attack from the chaos until they found how easy it was to trap and kill; I don’t think the tower is very good with humans. Anyway, the copies all started trying to talk to anybody who’d listen. The Cryptographers mopped most of them up and they’re tracking down the others but I was able to find one of the copies and quiz it.

—And?

—There is an asura and it’s here, it’s in Serehfa, it’s on its way, but it’s being held up. The tower seems pretty confused itself about who and what it is, but it believes it’s here somewhere and it needs help.

—Are you sure this isn’t some Security or Cryptographers’ trick?

—Fairly. There is another aspect to all this.

—What?

—We have an ally.

—Who?

—Myself, ma’am, said another voice, a male voice, in her head, startling her. - How do you do.

—Oh. Hello, she thought, and felt flustered. Who are you?

—Call me Alan. Pleased to meet you, madam Chief Scientist, though in fact we have met before, in a sense. Whatever; I dare say we shall communicate again.

—Ah, right, yes, she thought, still not sure how to respond.

—That was him, said her own voice again.

—I guessed that, but who—?

—Another
planētēs,
Gadfium, another wanderer in the system, though this one’s been here a lot longer than I. He’s kind of cagey about revealing who he really is but I get the impression his human original was pretty powerful and important. His current self is extremely well informed and knows his way about the crypt better than the Cryptographers. It would seem he came to the same conclusion the tower did about the efficacy of using chimeric agents rather than humans to slip past Security.

—I hate to sound a note of caution again, but—

—No, I don’t think he’s a plant for Security. He found me, lurking around where they’re holding the asura. If it hadn’t been for him Security would have got me.

—So you think.

—I know. Look, it was he who put me on to the chimerics you’re with.

Gadfium looked at the back of the half-human thing in front of her. It was dark and matted and she suspected if the light had been better she’d have seen things crawling in the creature’s hair. The giant bird which had been perched on the thing’s shoulders had flown off down the black tunnel, cackling. Below her, the mammoth swayed from side to side with a surprisingly rapid motion as it led the twenty-strong herd down the huge tunnel. The other humanoids riding, legs clenched behind the heads of the mammoths, grinned widely and made excited fist-clenching gestures at her when she turned to look at them.

Gadfium scratched and tried not to think how far down the ground was.

—Well, tell him thanks for that, I think, she told her crypt self. But where exactly are we going and what precisely are we supposed to do?

—You’re the cavalry; we’re riding to the rescue, Gadfium! her other self said, excited.

—I thought I was the one needing to be rescued.

—Well, you’ve become the rescuer, Gad. We’re going to free the asura.

—We’re what?

—You’re on your way to Oubliette, the sea-port under the fastness. That’s where Security are holding the asura. Alan and I can do most of it, but physically, to rescue the girl, we may need you. And the chimerics, of course. The mammoths and the semi-humans seem to be under the influence of our friend, the lammergeier ... Well, I’m still trying to work it out. Could be connected with the tower.’

Gadfium couldn’t think what to say for a while. She stared into the darkness ahead, where she could just make out the heat signature of the returning lammergeier. She imagined the dark, buried city of Oubliette coming closer ahead, and herself riding with a preaching bird, twenty cretinous semi-humans and as many house-high mammoths to do battle with the elite of Security and probably the Cryptographers too.

The scaly-necked bird flapped and settled on the broad hairy shoulders of the creature ahead of her.

‘Have faith in the nothing,’ it said in a quiet screech. ‘Faith is the eye that sees nothing and rejoices in it. Unknowingness absolves the future path of danger. The eye sees, sees nothing, and so has faith. Fair set, all are hallowed. Shanti.’

Gadfium shook her head and looked down at the matted fur of the huge animal she bestrode, feeling its damp, rank heat welling up around her like doubt.

- Are we both mad? she asked her crypt self, - Or is it just you?

The angel was tall and sleek and sensually asexual; its eyes and hair were gold, its skin shone like liquid bronze. Its clothes were confined to a loincloth and a small waistcoat. Its wings varied from the coppery tint of its body at their roots through every shade of blue to white at the very tips of the feathers. It flew with an elegant effortlessness and landed lightly in front of him.

He had stopped laughing, not wanting to appear impolite.

The angel bowed slowly and deeply to him.

When it spoke its voice was like something beyond music, each phoneme, syllable and word at once utterly clear and yet setting off a symphony of tones which fanned instantly out from the primary expression like an avalanche down a pristine slope.

‘Welcome, sir. You have travelled a long way to be here with us at last.’

He nodded. ‘Thank you. Had we met during any other day of my journey I would have greeted you somewhat better dressed.’

The angel smiled, but did not look at his nakedness. ‘Please, sir,’ it said, and like a conjurer flourished one hand, and was suddenly holding a large black cape, which it held out to him.

‘I’m grateful for the gesture,’ he said, not taking the cape. ‘But if its utility is restricted to saving my blushes, I’d prefer to remain as I am.’

‘As you wish,’ the angel said, and the cape was gone.

‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘Did I misinterpret something, or was I summoned here?’

‘You were, sir. We would ask something of you.’

‘Who is this “we”?’

‘A one-time part of the data corpus charged with overseeing the functioning of the rest, and with the monitoring of our world’s welfare.’

‘No small brief. And your current intentions?’

‘We will attempt to contact a system set up long ago which may help deliver us from what has been called the Encroachment.’

‘And how exactly is it supposed to do that?’

The angel smiled dazzlingly. ‘We have no idea.’

He could not help but smile too. ‘And what part may I play?’

The angel lowered its head, its gaze still fastened on him. ‘You can give us your soul, Alandre,’ it said, and Sessine felt something quail within him.

‘What?’ he said, crossing his arms. ‘Aren’t we being rather metaphysical?’

‘It is the most meaningful way to express what we’d ask of you.’

‘My soul,’ he said, hoping he sounded sceptical.

BOOK: Feersum Endjinn

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