Feersum Endjinn

blond hair and golden eyes and skin like dark polished wood.  He's wearing a pair of shorts and a little waistcoat.  He waves to me.

O hello, he says, are you all right?

Not too bad, I say, which is true.  My sore head's a lot better and the rest of me isn't aching too much either but if I had to pick one improvement above all the others it would have to be the fact I don't feel like I'm just about to die anymore.

Welcome to the High Great Tower, the hollow blossom of the fastness, he says.  This is the Orrery Room.  May I help you up?

Thanks, I says, accepting his hand and getting to my feet.

The lights in the room flicker.  The man looks up and smiles.

Ah, he says.  He looks back at the centre of the room, goes still for a second, then looks at me and with a great big smile on his face says, Faith moves mountains.  From our hollowness is discharged our central purpose; it is sent that we may be delivered.

Pardon?  I said.

Come; let me find you something to eat and drink.

Well, I went with the guy, but I don't mind saying I was giving him a funny look behind his back.  He got me to sit in a chair in the centre of the room and started fiddling with some sort of control thing on one of the desks.

It's been so long, he says, scratching his head.  What would you like? he asks.

Frankly chum, I said, I'm parched.  I fancy a cup of tea but anything wet would do.

Tea, he says, scratching at his noddle again.  Tea; let me see.  He punches some more controls.

I look up at the model of the sun hanging over my head.  I still don't feel too brilliant but I'm a lot better than I was.  I have a stretch and look around.  Lying on a nearby desk there's the package I was supposed to deliver here.

Oh I says.  Excuse me, is that package for you then? and point at it.

What? he says, turning and looking at it.  Oh, I suppose so, if you like, he says, and turns back to the controls.

Ahem, I says.  I don't want to appear ungrateful or nothing but I did nearly die getting that package up here; would you mind telling me what was in it?

In it? the guy says, frowning at me.  Oh, there wasn't actually anything in it.  He goes back to the screen.  Tea, he says, tea tea tea.  Hmm.

I stare at him.

Well then, hullo?  I'm saying excuse me, but well then; what the bleeding hell was the point of me coming up here then?

The guy turns and smiles at me, then turns away again.

I just sit there shaking my head and feeling like a prize idiot.

The chap with the golden locks mutters to himself and eventually gets a sort of cylinder to appear up out of the desk.  He reaches inside and brings out of a cup of stuff which he shows me.

Tea? he says.

I sniff the cup and shake my head.  Cola, I says.  But it'll do.  Cheers.

Frankly it's crap cola but beggars can't be choosers.

Something to eat? the guy says, looking hopeful.

I think about this.  What would you recommend?  I ask.

I drink another few cups of soda — it's getting better with each cup — while the guy tries to get some cakes together but without much success.  He's staring at a pile of steaming pink goo the desk's just produced when he straightens and looks at me, smiling and looking dead happy.

Then something drops onto my shoulder from above.

It's time to stare again.  So I stare.

Bascule; hello again.  Well done.  Mission accomplished.  You know, I lost count of the times I cursed you for your damned persistence over the past couple of days, when far too much of my time seemed to be spent making arrangements for your safety which you seemed to devote all your efforts to frustrating, but in the end I needed help and you were there to provide it.  I thank you.  Well, something to tell your grandchildren, I suppose.  Don't you think?… Bascule?  Bascule, can you hear me?

I stare at the tiny little thing sitting on my shoulder.

Ergates?  I says hoarsely.

Who else?

Is it really you?

You know any other talking ants?

What the bleeding hell you doing up here?

Delivering a message.

That's what they told me, I says, glancing at the blond guy, who's still muttering and punching buttons.

A necessary fabrication.  What you were really delivering was me.

You?

Me.  After I abandoned my balloon I had got so far up the steps from the central shaft, but then it became obvious I could go no further because of the door — doors in the plural as it turned out — blocking my way.  Very frustrating.  I was able to contact the lammergeiers but the bird they sent to help me could not even reach me before the poor creature died.  You were like the answer to our prayers.  I just hopped on you as you passed and hitched a lift.

So I did hear you when I tried to crypt!  I thought I was dying!

Actually I think you were, Bascule, but you also did hear me.

Anyway, I says, pointing at the blond punter struggling with the food-desk thing, why couldn't this guy have come and helped you?

He did not know I was on my way.  The fast-tower is not the easiest of places to communicate with even if we had wanted to announce I was on my way.  He only knew we were here when I was able to activate the door to the bottom-most live floor.

I just look at that damn ant for a while.

So are you this asura everybody's been talking about?

No, Ergates says, laughing.  Though I was created in a similar manner.  My task was to act as a key for the tower access systems; they were kept separate from the rest of the tower's functions so that if the tower AIs were ever infected with the chaos they could not facilitate a physical invasion of the tower's upper reaches.  I suppose I'm a sort of micro-asura if you like, though all I've really done is press a lift button.

But what about that bleeding lammergeier what snatched you from Mr Zoliparia's; that was all a set-up, was it?

Of course.

But you shouted my name and went Eek!

Had to make it look convincing.

You might have said goodbye.

I waved my antennae; what more you want?

Bloody hell.  I stare into the distance, then look up at the mobile.

So what's going to happen now?  I ask.  What were you doing up there?

I was delivering a message to a receptor chip buried in the model earth.  The code itself is meaningless but it's supposed to activate the relevant systems.  Everything seems to be working, though there are reports we may not have time to test the elevators.  I have to say I didn't expect my arrival and that of the asura to occur in quite such close proximity.

Cake! the guy says, and brings over a plate covered with small steaming brown lumps.  I sniff them.

Maybe something in the savoury line might be more appropriate, I suggest.  The guy looks like his crest just fell.

Oh! Hash browns; my favourite!  Ergates says.  Let me at them.