scream of air and a scream from me dipped below the allure and the parapet and went on down till we were level with the lower bretasche, where the bat wheeled round so hard I lost my grip on its scaly legs and only its steel-like clasp on my wrists stopped me from falling to the roof of the second level tower underneath.
Felt like my arms were about to pop out of my sockets. I'd have screamed but the breath was gone from me.
The air shrieked round my ears as we plummeted between the great tower and the second level wall, down into a layer of cloud where I couldn't see a damn thing and it was freezing cold, then we turned in what I thought was the direction of the tower and out of the mist loomed this bleeding great rock wall. I closed my eyes.
We twisted once, twice and I went — phew — to myself but when I opened my eyes we was still heading straight for naked stonework. O fuck, I thought, but by then I'd decided I'd rather die with my eyes open. At the last moment we lifted, I saw hanging bunches of foliage strung from the machicolation above and a instant later we crashed into the babil; my shoulder was wrenched and I was thrown off the bat and into the babil, grabbing at leaves and twigs and branches and slipping and falling down through it.
The bat beat furiously, shouting, Hold on! Hold on! while I tried to get a hold on the damn stuff.
Hold on! it shouted again.
I'm bloody trying too! I yelled.
You safe?
Just about, I said, hugging a big strand of babil like it was a long-lost mum or something, not able to look behind but still hearing the big bat flap and beat at my back.
I'm sorry I couldn't help you more, the bat says. You must save yourself now. They're looking for you. Beware the crypt. Keep out of things! Erch! Erch! I must go. Farewell, human.
Yeah, and to you, I shouted, turning round to look at it. And thanks!
Then the big bat dropped, and I saw it disappear in the mist, falling away straight down, trailing smoke and then just before I lost sight of it curving away following the circumference of the tower, beating hard but looking weak and still falling.
Disappeared.
I crawled into the darkness of the babil, nursing my aches.
Oh dear Bascule, I said to myself. Oh dear oh dear oh dear.
I spent the night in the foliage, constantly dreaming of flying through the air with Ergates in my hand but then dropping her and her tumbling away and me not being able to catch her and my wings coming off and me falling too and screaming through the air, then waking clutching the branches, shivering and covered in sweat.
So here I am, looking up at the fast-tower and I've spent some time so far this morning trying to pluck up the courage to go straight back into the crypt to find out what's going on and look for poor little Ergates and this time take no nonsense… and I've also spent some time vowing never to even think of the bleeding crypt again and deciding not to decide about it for now and so instead I'm just sitting here wondering what I'm to do in general and not able to come to a decision on that score neither.
I turn over in my little nest again and look down through the branches and this time I freeze and stare, because I can see this big animal coming climbing up through the babil; it's bleeding huge, the size of a bear and it's got thick black fur with streaks of green on it and it's got big shiny black claws and it's looking at me with two little beady eyes and a funny pointed head and it's coming up the branch I'm on, straight towards me.
Oh shit, I hear myself say, looking round to see if there's a way to escape.
There isn't. Oh shit.
The animal opens its mouth. Its teeth are the size of my fingers.
… Stay where you are! it hisses.
TRANSLATION — FIVE — 4
I stare at the big black beast coming up the branch toward me.
I've got a gun! I shout (this is a lie).
… I very much doubt that, the thing says. It stops all the same smiling and showing its teeth again. But anyway, it says, stop being silly. I'm here to help you.
I'll bet, I says, glancing round and still trying to figure out a way of escape.
Yes. If I'd wanted to harm you I could have shaken you out of there five minutes ago.
Oh yeah? I says, hanging on tighter. Well maybe you don't want to kill me, maybe you just want to capture me.
… In which case I'd have dropped on you from above, you silly boy.
Oh you would, would you?
…Yes. You're Bascule, aren't you?
Perhaps, I says. And who or what are you when you're at home then?
… I'm a sloth, it says proudly. You can call me Gaston.
So I'm being led through the babil plants by a sloth called Gaston who has a kind of mutant lisp and takes such pride in his appearance he's got fungus growing on his back; that's what the green streaks are. He offered to let me ride on his back hanging onto his fur but I declined.
We climb through the babil, going down and round the tower.
Who sent you then? I ask.
…Same people sent the jericule last night, Gaston says, talking over his shoulder.
What, that big bat?
…That's right.
What happened to him anyway, do you know?
…Her, Gaston says. No.
Oh.
I follow Gaston down through the babil branches. Following Gaston isn't difficult on account of him being a quite remarkably slow mover. If he had been coming to attack me I could probably have just gone down the branch he was on and climbed right over him before he could have started to react.
Anyway. Who was it sent you here then?
…Friends.
You don't say.
…No, I do say; friends.
Well thanks, that's pretty enlightening.
…Patience, young man.
We negotiate a few more branches.
Where you taking me anyway?
… to a place of safety.
Yeah, but where?
… Patience, young man, patience.
I can see I'm not going to get nothing out of this sloth so I just shut up and content myself with making silly faces at its big black green-streaked back.
It's a long slow journey.
… There's things going on, Mr Bascule, that's all I can say; there's things going on. Frankly I don't know exactly what they are myself, or whether I'd be able to tell you about them if I did, but as I don't I can't anyway, you see?
Not really, I says, which is the truth.
The sloth-geezer what can only say, There's things going on, is called Hombetante and he's the chief sloth;
