[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
over the jumbled crags of slate far below, at the base of the castle. It was
about a hundred metre drop. There would be a lot of wind noise, he would feel
cold for a while, weightless for an instant, then... nothing. He should do it
now, but he had to prepare himself. Still, Ajayi might not be away for very
long (she had gone looking for books as usual), and he didn't want her seeing
him there. He leaned forward, over the drop, biting his lip.
No machine-gun this time, he thought.
He had been down in the guts of the place.
More locked doors. The same ancient corridors, dimly lit. His scullions
would not help him find keys for the doors; they said they had no influence
with the keykeepers, they didn't know any of them and if they started to make
any inquiries they would be under suspicion immediately;
they thought the seneschal already knew of their allegiance to Quiss, and
merely tolerated it.
Quiss tried to engage the attendants he met down here, deep under the castle,
in conversation, on the odd occasions when he encountered them; but they were
taciturn, unhelpful.
He thought about knocking one over the head sometime, seeing if it had a key
which he could steal and use, but as soon as he had even hinted he might try
this his own scullions had started weeping and begging him not to. He and
they would be terribly punished if he tried to open the castle's doors like
that. The black minions, they said, in quivering voices; the black minions...
Quiss assumed they were talking about the attendants he had seen only once,
with the seneschal that one time he had found an open door and the seneschal
and the black-robed minions arrived in the creaking elevator. He reluctantly
shelved the idea of taking a key by force.
He walked along the corridor. He was in the general area of the door he had
found open, many many days ago. He thought he could just make out a sort of
half-felt, half-heard thumping noise, and suspected he was somewhere near the
number-crunching room; _dee pee_ as the snooty attendant had called it.
The corridor opened out to about twice the cross-section which he regarded as
the castle's standard. A slate bench on one wall faced a row of twelve large,
stout, metal-strapped doors.
He was weary, so he sat down on the bench, looking through the gloom at the
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
tall, dark
file:///F|/rah/Iain%20Banks/Banks%20-%20Walking%20on%20Glass%20v1.0.txt (93 of
101) [2/4/03 10:22:53 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Iain%20Banks/Banks%20-%20Walking%20on%20Glass%20v1.0.txt doors.
'Tired, old man?' a voice said, from above him. He turned and saw the red
crow, perched on a peg stuck into the wall high above the slate bench, near
the vaulted ceiling.
'What are you doing way down here?' he asked the creature, surprised to find
it so deep in the castle's structure.
'Following you,' the crow said.
'To what do I owe such an honour?'
'Your stupidity,' the red crow said, stretching its wings as though stiff.
One of its small eyes glinted in the dim light from the glowing, transparent
tubes at the apex of the ceiling.
'Really,' he said. If the red crow was just insulting him, let it. If it
wanted to talk it would have to start things off. He suspected it did want to
talk. It was here for a good reason.
'Yes, really,' the red crow said testily. It flapped off the perch on the
wall and landed in the middle of the floor, facing him. It folded its wings.
A little dust swirled around it.
'You won't listen to reason, so I'm going to have to rub your nose in things.'
'Are you indeed?' Quiss said coldly. He didn't like its tone. 'What
"things"?'
'Call it _truth_,' the red crow said, spitting the word out like a lump of
gristle.
'What would you know about that?' Quiss scoffed.
'Oh, quite a lot, as you'll discover, man.' The red crow's voice was calm,
measured and mocking. 'If you want to, that is.'
That depends,' Quiss said, frowning at the bird. 'What exactly are we talking
about?'
The red crow jerked its head, indicating the wall and the doors behind it. 'I
can get you in there. I can show you what you have been looking for all this
time.'
'Can you really?' Quiss said, stalling. He wondered if the crow was telling
the truth.
If it was, why was it telling him?
The bird, its bright plumage dulled to burgundy by the gloom, nodded. 'I can.
Do you want to see behind the doors?'
'Yes,' Quiss said. There was little point in denying it. 'What's the catch?'
'Ah,' the red crow said, and Quiss thought that if the bird could have smiled,
it would.
'I must have your word.'
'On what?'
'That I show you what I show you of your own free will, that you go willingly
on the understanding that without any outside influence from me or anything
else you may not desire to come back, or may desire to kill yourself. You may
not, of course, but if you stay, or if you kill yourself, you must give me
your word you will say that I warned you of this first.'
Quiss narrowed his eyes, leaned forward on the slate seat, putting one elbow
on his knees, one hand to his lips. His chin was rough with stubble. 'You are
saying that what you will show me may make me wish to stay behind those doors,
or may make me desire death.'
'In a word: more-or-less,' the red crow cackled. 'But you won't use any dirty
tricks to influence me.'
'No need.'
'Then I give my word.'
'Good,' the red crow said with some satisfaction. It flapped once and rose
into the air, and Quiss had the impression that it was done too easily, that
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the wings had not powered the bird at all, that it flapped them merely for
show. The bird turned and flew off down the corridor, in the direction Quiss
had been heading. It disappeared round a corner in the dim distance.
Quiss got to his feet, wondering if he was supposed to follow the creature.
He scratched his chin, looking at the dozen doors. His heart started to beat
a little faster; what was behind the doors? The red crow wanted him and Ajayi
dead; it wanted them to admit defeat and give up their struggle with the
riddle. That was simply part of its job, though it claimed it really did want
rid of them anyway, because they were boring. It knew that Quiss knew this,
so it must be very confident that whatever was behind the doors would have a
considerable effect on Quiss;
enough to break him, perhaps. Quiss was nervous, keyed up, but determined.
He could take whatever the red crow was going to throw at him, whatever it had
to show him. Anything which might help him find the way out of this thing,
even just give a new angle on his and Ajayi's plight, would be useful.
Besides, he suspected the red crow did not know that he had been behind one of
those doors once, even if only briefly. If the revelation beyond that heavy
wood and metal strapping had something to with the ceiling-holes and the place
called 'Dirt', then Quiss vas already prepared. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
over the jumbled crags of slate far below, at the base of the castle. It was
about a hundred metre drop. There would be a lot of wind noise, he would feel
cold for a while, weightless for an instant, then... nothing. He should do it
now, but he had to prepare himself. Still, Ajayi might not be away for very
long (she had gone looking for books as usual), and he didn't want her seeing
him there. He leaned forward, over the drop, biting his lip.
No machine-gun this time, he thought.
He had been down in the guts of the place.
More locked doors. The same ancient corridors, dimly lit. His scullions
would not help him find keys for the doors; they said they had no influence
with the keykeepers, they didn't know any of them and if they started to make
any inquiries they would be under suspicion immediately;
they thought the seneschal already knew of their allegiance to Quiss, and
merely tolerated it.
Quiss tried to engage the attendants he met down here, deep under the castle,
in conversation, on the odd occasions when he encountered them; but they were
taciturn, unhelpful.
He thought about knocking one over the head sometime, seeing if it had a key
which he could steal and use, but as soon as he had even hinted he might try
this his own scullions had started weeping and begging him not to. He and
they would be terribly punished if he tried to open the castle's doors like
that. The black minions, they said, in quivering voices; the black minions...
Quiss assumed they were talking about the attendants he had seen only once,
with the seneschal that one time he had found an open door and the seneschal
and the black-robed minions arrived in the creaking elevator. He reluctantly
shelved the idea of taking a key by force.
He walked along the corridor. He was in the general area of the door he had
found open, many many days ago. He thought he could just make out a sort of
half-felt, half-heard thumping noise, and suspected he was somewhere near the
number-crunching room; _dee pee_ as the snooty attendant had called it.
The corridor opened out to about twice the cross-section which he regarded as
the castle's standard. A slate bench on one wall faced a row of twelve large,
stout, metal-strapped doors.
He was weary, so he sat down on the bench, looking through the gloom at the
Page 122
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
tall, dark
file:///F|/rah/Iain%20Banks/Banks%20-%20Walking%20on%20Glass%20v1.0.txt (93 of
101) [2/4/03 10:22:53 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Iain%20Banks/Banks%20-%20Walking%20on%20Glass%20v1.0.txt doors.
'Tired, old man?' a voice said, from above him. He turned and saw the red
crow, perched on a peg stuck into the wall high above the slate bench, near
the vaulted ceiling.
'What are you doing way down here?' he asked the creature, surprised to find
it so deep in the castle's structure.
'Following you,' the crow said.
'To what do I owe such an honour?'
'Your stupidity,' the red crow said, stretching its wings as though stiff.
One of its small eyes glinted in the dim light from the glowing, transparent
tubes at the apex of the ceiling.
'Really,' he said. If the red crow was just insulting him, let it. If it
wanted to talk it would have to start things off. He suspected it did want to
talk. It was here for a good reason.
'Yes, really,' the red crow said testily. It flapped off the perch on the
wall and landed in the middle of the floor, facing him. It folded its wings.
A little dust swirled around it.
'You won't listen to reason, so I'm going to have to rub your nose in things.'
'Are you indeed?' Quiss said coldly. He didn't like its tone. 'What
"things"?'
'Call it _truth_,' the red crow said, spitting the word out like a lump of
gristle.
'What would you know about that?' Quiss scoffed.
'Oh, quite a lot, as you'll discover, man.' The red crow's voice was calm,
measured and mocking. 'If you want to, that is.'
That depends,' Quiss said, frowning at the bird. 'What exactly are we talking
about?'
The red crow jerked its head, indicating the wall and the doors behind it. 'I
can get you in there. I can show you what you have been looking for all this
time.'
'Can you really?' Quiss said, stalling. He wondered if the crow was telling
the truth.
If it was, why was it telling him?
The bird, its bright plumage dulled to burgundy by the gloom, nodded. 'I can.
Do you want to see behind the doors?'
'Yes,' Quiss said. There was little point in denying it. 'What's the catch?'
'Ah,' the red crow said, and Quiss thought that if the bird could have smiled,
it would.
'I must have your word.'
'On what?'
'That I show you what I show you of your own free will, that you go willingly
on the understanding that without any outside influence from me or anything
else you may not desire to come back, or may desire to kill yourself. You may
not, of course, but if you stay, or if you kill yourself, you must give me
your word you will say that I warned you of this first.'
Quiss narrowed his eyes, leaned forward on the slate seat, putting one elbow
on his knees, one hand to his lips. His chin was rough with stubble. 'You are
saying that what you will show me may make me wish to stay behind those doors,
or may make me desire death.'
'In a word: more-or-less,' the red crow cackled. 'But you won't use any dirty
tricks to influence me.'
'No need.'
'Then I give my word.'
'Good,' the red crow said with some satisfaction. It flapped once and rose
into the air, and Quiss had the impression that it was done too easily, that
Page 123
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the wings had not powered the bird at all, that it flapped them merely for
show. The bird turned and flew off down the corridor, in the direction Quiss
had been heading. It disappeared round a corner in the dim distance.
Quiss got to his feet, wondering if he was supposed to follow the creature.
He scratched his chin, looking at the dozen doors. His heart started to beat
a little faster; what was behind the doors? The red crow wanted him and Ajayi
dead; it wanted them to admit defeat and give up their struggle with the
riddle. That was simply part of its job, though it claimed it really did want
rid of them anyway, because they were boring. It knew that Quiss knew this,
so it must be very confident that whatever was behind the doors would have a
considerable effect on Quiss;
enough to break him, perhaps. Quiss was nervous, keyed up, but determined.
He could take whatever the red crow was going to throw at him, whatever it had
to show him. Anything which might help him find the way out of this thing,
even just give a new angle on his and Ajayi's plight, would be useful.
Besides, he suspected the red crow did not know that he had been behind one of
those doors once, even if only briefly. If the revelation beyond that heavy
wood and metal strapping had something to with the ceiling-holes and the place
called 'Dirt', then Quiss vas already prepared. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]