China Mieville - The Scar

There were thousands of cray, and a fair number of humans, on the walkways and bridges at water level, and way above. Scores of flat-bottomed barges and boats puttered between the towers.

Oceangoing ships were docked at the town’s outskirts, tied up to pillars in the sea. Cogs and junks and clippers, and here and there a steamship. The Terpsichoria approached.

“Look there,” someone said to Bellis, and pointed downward-the water was absolutely clear. Even in the waning light Bellis could see the wide streets of Salkrikaltor suburbs far below. They were outlined with cold-looking streetlights. The buildings stopped at least fifty feet from the surface, to ensure clearance for the ships that passed above them.

On the walkways linking the submarine spires Bellis could see yet more citizens, more cray. They scuttled and swam quickly, moving with much more facility than their compatriots above them in the air.

It was an extraordinary place. When they had docked, Bellis watched enviously as the Terpsichoria ’s boats were lowered. Most of the crew and all the passengers lined up eagerly before the ladders. They grinned and bickered excitedly, casting their eyes toward the city.

It was dusk now. Salkrikaltor’s towers were silhouettes; their lit windows reflected in the black water. There were faint sounds on the air: music, shouts, grinding machinery, waves.

“Be back aboard by two in the morning,” yelled a sublieutenant. “Stick to the human quarters and whatever else you can find above water. Plenty to do there without risking your lungs.”

“Miss Coldwine?”

Bellis turned to Lieutenant Commander Cumbershum.

“Please come with me, miss. The submersible’s ready.”

Constrained within the tiny submersible, a tight tangle of copper tubing and dials, Bellis stretched to see past the obstructions of Cumbershum and Captain Myzovic, and the midshipman at the helm.

One moment the sea was lapping at the bottom of the reinforced front window; then suddenly the vessel pitched, and waves washed over the bulbous glass as the sky disappeared. The sounds of splashing and the faint wail of gulls were instantly gone. The only noise was a buzzing whine as the propeller began to spin.

Bellis was agog.

The sub tilted and moved gracefully down toward unseen rock and sand. A powerful arc light snapped on below its snub nose, opening a cone of illuminated water before them.

Near the bottom, they tilted slightly skyward. The evening light filtered faintly down, blocked by the massive black shadows of ships.

Bellis gazed over the captain’s shoulder into the dark water. Her face was impassive, but her hands moved, working with awe. Fish moved in precise waves, ebbing back and forth around the ungainly metal intruder. Bellis could hear her own quick breathing unnaturally loud.

The submersible picked a careful way between the chains dangling like vines from the canopy of vessels above them. The pilot moved levers with an expert grace, and the craft curled up and over a little lip of corroded rock, and Salkrikaltor City appeared.

Bellis gasped.

Everywhere lights were suspended. Globes of cold illumination like frost moons, with no trace of the sepia of New Crobuzon’s gas lamps. The city glowed in the darkening water like a net full of ghostly lights.

The outer edges of the city were low buildings in porous stone and coral. There were other submarines moving smoothly between the towers and above the roofs. The sunken promenades beneath them climbed their way to the distant ramparts and cathedrals of the city’s core, a mile or so away, seen very faintly through the sea. There at the heart of Salkrikaltor City were taller edifices that loomed all the way out of the waves. They were no less intricate below the surface. The city was convoluted and interconnected.

Everywhere there were cray. They looked up idly as the sub passed above them. They stood and haggled outside shops festooned with undulating colored cloth; they bickered in little squares of seaweed topiary; they walked along tangled backstreets. They guided carts pulled by extraordinary beasts of burden: sea snails eight feet high. Their children played games, goading caged bass and colorful blenny.

Bellis saw houses that were patched together, half-repaired. Away from the main streets, currents picked at organic rubbish moldering in coral courtyards.

Every motion seemed stretched out in the water. Cray swam over the roofs, flapping their tails in inelegant motion. They stepped off high ledges and sank slowly down, legs braced for landing.

From inside the submersible, the city seemed silent.

They flew slowly toward the monumental architecture at Salkrikaltor’s center, disturbing fish and floating scraps. It was a real metropolis, Bellis reflected. It bustled and thronged. Just like New Crobuzon, but cosseted and half hidden by water.

“Housing for officials, that is,” Cumbershum pointed out to her. “That’s a bank. Factory over there. That’s why the cray do such business with New Crobuzon: we can help them with steam technology. Very hard to get going underwater. And this is the central council of the Cray Commonwealth of Salkrikaltor.”

The building was intricate. Rounded and bulbous like an impossibly huge brain coral, carved with a covering of folds. The towers jutted way up through the water and into the air. Most of its wings-all marked with coiled serpents and hieroglyph romances-had open windows and doorways in traditional Salkrikaltor style, so that small fish entered and exited unhindered. But one section was sealed, with small portholes and thick metal doors. From its vents spewed a constant stream of bubbles.

“That’s where they meet topsiders,” the lieutenant said. “That’s where we’re heading.”

“There’s a human minority in Salkrikaltor City’s topside,” said Bellis slowly. “There are plenty of rooms above water, and the cray can take air without problems for hours at a time. Why do they make us meet them down here?”

“For the same reason we receive the Salkrikaltor ambassador in the reception rooms at Parliament, Miss Coldwine,” said the captain, “no matter that it is somewhat hard and inconvenient for him. This is their city; we are mere guests. We -” He turned to her and waved his hand to encompass himself and Lieutenant Commander Cumbershum only. “-that is. We are guests.” He turned slowly away.

You son of a pig, Bellis thought furiously, her face set like ice.

The pilot eased his speed down to almost nothing and maneuvered through a large, dark opening into the wing. They sailed over cray, who directed them on with sweeps of their arms, to the dead end of the concrete corridor. A huge door shut ponderously behind them.

From fat stubby pipes that lined the walls burst a massive unceasing explosion of bubbles. The sea was pushed out through valves and sluices. Slowly the water level fell. The sub settled gradually on the concrete floor and listed to one side. The water came down past the porthole and streaked and streamed it with droplets, and Bellis was staring out into air. With the sea pumped out of it, the room looked shabby.

When the pilot finally undid the screws locking them in, the hatch swung open with a merciful cool blast. The concrete floor was puddled with brine. The room itself smelled of kelp and fish. Bellis stepped from the submersible as the officers adjusted their uniforms.

Behind them stood a cray. She carried a spear-too intricate and flimsy to be anything other than ceremonial, Bellis judged-and wore a breastplate of something vivid green that was not metal. She nodded in greeting.

“Thank her for her welcome,” said the captain to Bellis. “Tell her to inform the council leader that we have arrived.”