China Mieville - The Scar

“A moment, please, Captain.” The council leader raised his hand. He muttered quickly to Drood’adji, who nodded and scuttled gracefully out of the room. “There is one more matter to discuss.”

When Drood’adji returned, Bellis’ eyes widened. Behind him walked a human man.

He was so out of place it brought her up short. She stared like a fool.

The man was a little younger than she, with an open, cheerful face. He carried a large pack and wore clean but battered clothes. He smiled disarmingly at Bellis. She frowned slightly and broke eye contact.

“Captain Myzovic?” The man spoke Ragamoll with a New Crobuzon accent. “Lieutenant Commander Cumbershum?” He shook their hands. “And I’m afraid I don’t know your name, ma’am,” he said, his hand outstretched.

“Miss Coldwine is our translator, sir,” said the captain before Bellis could respond. “Your business is with me. Who are you?”

From his jacket the man pulled an official-looking scroll.

“That should explain everything, Captain,” he said.

The captain scrutinized it carefully. After half a minute he looked up sharply, waving the scroll disdainfully.

“What, by damn, is this idiocy?” he hissed suddenly, making Bellis start. He jabbed the scroll at Cumbershum.

“I think it makes matters reasonably clear, Captain,” said the man. “I have other copies, in case your anger overwhelms you. I’m afraid I’m going to have to commandeer your ship.”

The captain gave a hard bark of laughter. “Oh really?” He sounded dangerously tense. “Is that right, Mr…” He leaned over and read the paper in his lieutenant’s hands. “Mr. Fennec? Is that right ?”

Glancing at Cumbershum, Bellis realized that he was staring at the newcomer with astonishment and alarm. He interrupted the captain.

“Sir,” he said urgently. “Might I suggest that we thank our hosts and let them return to their business?” He looked meaningfully at the cray. The translator was listening carefully.

The captain hesitated and gave a curt nod. “Please inform our hosts that their hospitality is excellent,” he ordered Bellis brusquely. “Thank them for their time. We can find our own way out.”

As Bellis spoke, the cray bowed gracefully. The two councilors came forward and shook hands again, to the captain’s barely concealed fury. They left the way Mr. Fennec had come in.

“Miss Coldwine?” The captain indicated the door that led back to the submersible. “Wait for us outside, please. This is government business.”

Bellis lingered in the corridor, silently cursing. She could hear the captain’s bellicose roaring through the door. However she strained, though, she could not make out what was being said.

“Gods damm it,” she muttered, and returned to the featureless concrete room where the submersible sat like some grotesque wallowing creature. The cray attendant waited idly, softly clucking.

The submersible pilot was picking his teeth. His breath smelled of fish.

Bellis leaned against a wall and waited.

After more than twenty minutes the captain burst through the door, followed by Cumbershum, desperately trying to placate him.

“Just don’t fucking speak to me at the moment, Cumbershum, all right?” shouted the captain. Bellis stared, astonished. “Just make sure you keep Mr. fucking Fennec out of my sight or I will not be responsible for what happens, signed and sealed letter of fucking commission or not.”

Behind the lieutenant, Fennec peered around the edge of the door.

Cumbershum gestured Bellis and Fennec quickly into the back of the submersible. He looked panicked. When he sat down in front of Bellis, beside the captain, she saw that he was straining away from Myzovic.

As the sea began to pour back in through the walls of the concrete room, and the sound of hidden engines made the vessel vibrate, the man in the scuffed leather coat turned to Bellis and smiled.

“Silas Fennec,” he whispered, and held out his hand. Bellis paused, then took it.

“Bellis,” she murmured. “Coldwine.”

No one spoke on the journey to the surface. Back on the Terpsichoria ’s deck, the captain stormed to his office.

“Mr. Cumbershum,” he belted. “Bring Mr. Fennec to me.”

Silas Fennec saw Bellis watching him. He jerked his head toward the captain’s back and for the briefest moment rolled his eyes, then nodded in farewell and trotted off in Myzovic’s wake.

Johannes was gone, off somewhere in Salkrikaltor. Bellis looked resentfully across the water at lights that picked out the towers. There were no boats by the Terpsichoria ’s sides, and no one to row her away from the ship. Bellis brimmed with frustration. Even the mewling Sister Meriope had found the strength to leave the boat.

Bellis went to find Cumbershum. He was watching his men patch up a damaged sail.

“Miss Coldwine.” He looked at her without warmth.

“Lieutenant,” she said. “I wanted to know how I might place some mail in the New Crobuzon storeroom of which Captain Myzovic told me. I have something urgent to send…”

Her voice petered out. He was shaking his head.

“Impossible, Miss Coldwine. I can spare no one to escort you, I don’t have the key and I am not asking the captain for it now… Would you like me to go on?”

Bellis felt a sting of misery, and she held herself very still.

“Lieutenant,” she said slowly, keeping her voice emotionless. “Lieutenant, the captain himself promised me that I might deposit my letter. It is extremely important.”

“Miss Coldwine,” he interrupted, “if it were down to me I would escort you myself, but I cannot , and I am afraid that is an end to the matter. But besides…” He looked up furtively, then whispered again. “Besides… please don’t speak of this but… you’ll have no need of the warehouse. I can’t say any more. You’ll understand in a few hours. The captain’s called a meeting early tomorrow morning. He’ll explain. Believe me, Miss Coldwine. You don’t need to deposit your letter here. I give you my word.”

What is he implying? Bellis thought, panicked and exhilarated. What is he godsdamned implying?

Like most of the prisoners, Tanner Sack never moved far from the space he had claimed. Near the infrequent light from above and also the food, it was sought-after. Twice someone had tried to steal it, moving in on his patch of floor when he had gone to piss or shit. Both times he had managed to persuade the intruder away without a fight.

He remained sitting, his back to the wall, at one edge of the cage, for hours at a time. Shekel never had to go looking for him.

“Oy, Sack!”

Tanner was dozing, and the clouds in his head took a long time to part.

Shekel was grinning at him from beyond the bars. “Wake up, Tanner. I want to tell you about Salkrikaltor.”

“Shut up, boy,” grumbled a man beside Tanner. “We’re trying to sleep.”

“Fuck off, Remade cunt,” snapped Shekel. “D’you want any food next time I’m here, eh?”

Tanner was waving his hands in placation. “All right, lad, all right,” he said, trying to wake up fully. “Tell me about whatever it is, but keep it down, eh?”

Shekel grinned. He was drunk and excited.

“Did you ever see Salkrikaltor City, Tanner?”

“No, lad. I ain’t never left New Crobuzon before,” Tanner said softly. He kept his voice low, hoping that Shekel would imitate him.

The boy rolled his eyes and sat back. “You take a little boat, and you row past big buildings that come plumb out of the sea. Some places they’re close together like trees. And there’s massive bridges way above, and sometimes… sometimes you see someone-human or cray-just jump. And dive, if they’re a human, or tuck in all them legs otherwise, and land in the water and light out swimming, or disappear underneath.