Iain Banks - The Bridge

Just ma fukin luk; the bampot didnae evin speek proppir; sum forin lingo. Aw shite, ah wiz thinkin. Ah tried tellin him whit ah wiz after wi sine language; thot he seemed tae understand but he stil wiznae tellin, so ah told him ahd help him roll the rok up the sloap if he told me. Sneeky basturt got me tae shuv the stane up the hil first. Got it tae the tap; he held it an ah got a few wee stanes tae hold it thare. Fella wiz qwite delightit; he points doon the bank of the rivir and sez 'Karen,' or sumthin' like that, then skips aff in tae the mist, leavin the big chuckie at the tap aw the sloap.

Mair fukin trampin along the side of this bludy misty rivir, and then ah see this muckle grate bird flyin throo the mists; ah watcht it land on this big bit aw rock whare this guy waz chaned up, and the bird gets stuck right in, rips the basturd open and starts munchin away at his insides; the bloake wiz howlin and screemin fit tae raze the deid, but when ah got thare I must have fritened the big bird aff, coz it beat it. Climbed up tae see how the guy wos, but hed healed right up; no even a scar whare the eegil or whatever it wiz had been havin its tea. 'Scuse me pal, am ah on the right road fur the steamer, aye?'

Anuther bludy furiner. Tryed the sine langwitch agen but seemd like he wiznae havin it, just kept shoutin and shakin his chanes. Toatil waist of time; like tryin tae pik yer nose wi yer gluvs on. The big bird came back an started screetchin an divin at ma heid. Wiznae in the mood fur eny nonsense, so I took a swipe at it with ma sord and chopt one of its wings aff; bird fell intae the rivir an floated off screetchin and flappin. The guy on the rok startit flappin as weel an rattlin his chanes. 'Aw, never mind jimmy,' ah told him, and got back down aff the rok.

Nae pier, nuthin. Stood lookin out across the rivir an thinkin about havin a drink from it.

My first is in lad, but never in lass,

My second's in case and also impasse;

My centre is paired -

'Just you shut the fuk up,' ah told the dirk, shaking it in frunt ov ma face, coz ah woz ded annoyed that ah didnae seem tae be gettin enywhare an ma heid wiz stil ded sair.

His first is in coracle, but oracle, no;

His next is in ship but not Limpopo.

Third's in Golden Apple but not Golden Fleece,

Fourth is in Forth, not Peloponnese.

Fifth's not in firth but -

'Anuthir peep oot aw you ye wee basturt an youl be talkin to the crabs and the fishes, right?' ah sed to the dirk, but then ah saw this punter in sum kinda oary boat cumin throogh the mist. Ugly looking big basturd dressed aw in blak rags soay wiz. Stannin up in the boat wi his arms crossd lookin ded hotty. Couldnae see how the boat wiz movin; probly majic, ah dare say. He grounds the boat on the shoar beside me an ah got on. He holds oot hiz haund. Ah shook it. 'The fare littil man,' he sez, still holdin oot his hand. Aw-aw, ah thoght.

Took oot ma sord; ye canny fuk aboot wi these weerd forrin punters. Put the tip at his throate; he didnae seem botherid though. 'You Karen?' ah sed. 'Charon,' he sez, like he wiznae cayrin. 'Well ah havnae got eny muny on me pal, so how about just put it on the slate, OK?' The big fella wiznae havin it though. Shakes his heid. 'There should be coins on your eyes; all the dead must have the fare to pay the ferryman.' Grate, ah thoght; wun of them loup-holes. 'Ah, but ahm no deid,' ah tells the punter. He seamed to think about this. 'Security is so lax these days,' he sez, an size. 'Perhaps there is something you can do for me though, if you're handy with that lump of metal.' He ment the sord; ah coold tell. 'Whit ye wantin, pal?' ah sez.

So ah got ma sale doon the watter fur the price of a dug's heid; punter wanted the heid of this dug name uv Serry-bruce that lived on the far shoar, on the Ile of the Deid; sed the dug woold never miss it, an he needed a figure-heid fur his roary-boat, furbye. Pritty weerd sort of thing to ask fur if ye ask me, but ah suppose peepil get a bit ecksentric and daft, stuk out here in the stiks.

Misty an dark on the uthir side ov the river as wel. Left Karen stannin in his boat an went off up the roade towards this big sorta palace thing on a cliff, keepin an eye open for this big dug Serry-bruce. Just as weel ah did; basturt jumpt me in this big coartyard place right on the clifside. Fukin thing had three heids! Snarlin and droolin it wiz. Saw whit the big fella ment about it no missin a heid. Lopped one affnae problem, wunderin how meny licences ye'd need for this thing; wan or three? Then duz the basturdin hownd no go an grow back the heid ahd just cut aff? Aw, fuk this, ah thoght.

His first is in canine, but in feline, not;

His next is in teeth and also garotte,

The third is in bark but not there in bite,

While the fourth's -

'Here boy! Fetch!' ah shoutit at the big dug, an took the wee dirk oot while it wiz still jibberin away an threw it over the cliff. The dug fell fur it.

Lookd over the clif and saw Serry-bruce hit the roks down at the bottim. Ded pleased with masell so ah woz, until the fukin heid ahd just cut aff went rollin over the edge right beside me; made a grab fur it but it fell doon an splatterd ovir the stanes at the bottim of the cliff too. Basturt! ah thought. Loss me wee dirk too; set offintae the big palace in a no very good mood. It wiz ded dark inside. Ah couldnae hav been lookin whate ah wiz goin coz a giv ma heid a terribil dunt on some ded low doorway; startit seein stars; it wiz like buttin a marble statyou or sumthin, so it woz. Could hardly see; think ma heid wiz bleedin too, blud gettin in ma eyes. Ah wiz blunderin about an tryin to feel whare the hell a wiz, bumpin intae things and swayrin an cursin an blindin an that. Next thing ah knew thare's this hissin and the sound ov arrers shootin past ma heid an skitein aff pillers an waws an the stanp flare. Ah still coold hardly see, but ah coold just aboot make oot sum funny-lookin basturt in the shadows, hissin at me an tryin to shoot arrers intae me. Oh fuk, ah thought. Wish ah still had that wee dirk with me.

Her first is in limestone, but not lapilli,

Her next is in ossiferous, but not ossify.

The third's in demand, but -

'Stop fukin jibberin an cum here!' Ah just aboot saw the wee dirk floatin near ma haund; grabbed it an threw; then dyeved fur the flare. Whoever wiz makin the hissin noyse sort of made a stranglin, chokin sound, then stoppt. Went ovir an had a look at this horribil lookin wuman that had been slingin these arrers at me; still couldnae see propir, but ye shoold hav seen the state ov her hare; tolk about rats tales! Couldnae hav washed it in years. Left her lyin fayce down in her own blud; the wee dirk was stuk in her throate; ah pullt it out. Sware that horribul wimins blud wiz burny, like asid or sumhim. Nevir mind, ah thoght; keep lookin fur the Sleepin Byooty.

'Aw wait a fukin minnit! '

Bombed oot agen! Whit had happened was Id fynelly found this wee sorta chamber thing; only place in the whole palace with anythin in it; rest wiz empty. Nae mair horribil wumin or dirty grate dugs wi two meny heeds, but nae tressure eyethir. Ah coold tell this wiz all goantae be anuthir toatil wayste of time an ah wuznae very pleased alredy, but at leest, ah thought, there shoold be this byootyfull sleepin lassy; ment tae be ded luvly; suppoasd to wake up with a kiss; whit ahm goantae giv her shoold make her reely fukin lively, ah thoght.

But its a man! 'Aw fuk !' Just a room an a man lyin in bed, all white-faced an asleep. There's these big things like metal chests on theyre sides all clustered around him an wee bit things like strings attached tae him. Fuk aw else. Ahm about to slit the basturts throate just on generil principils when this bit ov the waw suddenly starts talkin to me, an this paintin appears on it, only the paintin moves! Its a wumin's fayce; a no-bad lookin lassy with red hair. 'Don't,' she sez. 'Who the fuk are yoo?' ah asks her, no killin the guy but goan up tae this pictcher an tolkin tae it. 'Don't kill him,' the lassy sez. Ah tap the pictcher but it sounds like glass. Ah go intae the room behind it, but its empty tae; damn things no a windy or anyhin like that. 'Why no? Why shouldnae ah kill him?' ah asked the womin. 'Because he will become you; you will kill yourself and he will live again, in your body. Just leave now, please. Don't look at the Medusa's face, and don't take the -' then the pictcher goes all funny an her voyce disappeeres; sounds like that horribil womin hissin. Ah gave the screen a dunt with the end of ma sord but it just broke. Got a bit of glass right on the heid; startit bleedin agen. 'Aw cum on,' ah sez, wipin the blud off ma brows. Turned to go, then ah saw this wee gold thing like a statue of a big frog or sumthin, sittin on a windy-ledje. Liftit it up an it felt hevy enuoph to be gold, so I put it in ma breeks pocket an desided it wiz time to shoot the craw, like they say. Left the bampot lyin in the bed toatally unmollested; seemed half deid enyway so what the fuk. Thohgt aboot lookin for the lassy in the pictcher, but ah wiz gettin tired an ah still hadnae had anythin tae eat or drink so ah deside, time tae go hame. Went back through the dark bit an nearly tripped ovir the body ov the horribil wumin. Remembered Karen; thoght there probly widnae be much left of eny wan of that damn dugs heids evin if ah coold get doon tae the bottim of the cliff; so ah cut aff the horribil wumin's heid an slung it ower ma shoulder. Her herr wiz like sneks, ahm no kiddin.