“No! It had to scrape messages in the mould over there: it was damn slow. That’s what it uses its litter-spike for. It was the construct that told me David had turned traitor! It tried to get us out of the warehouse before the militia arrived!”

“Why?”

Isaac’s urgency waned.

“I don’t know. It can’t explain itself. It’s not . . . very articulate.” Lemuel looked up, over Isaac’s head. The construct sat motionless in the red-black flickering of the oil-lamp. “But listen . . . I think one of the reasons it wanted us free is because we’re against the slake-moths. I don’t know why, but it . . . it’s violently against them. It wants them dead. And it’s offering us help . . .”

Lemuel barked with unpleasant, incredulous laughter.

“Marvellous!” he wondered, derisorily. “You’ve got a vacuum cleaner on your side . . .”

“No, you fucking arse,” yelled Isaac. “Don’t you understand? It’s not alone . . .”

The word alone echoed back and forth around the mephitic brick burrows. Lemuel and Isaac stared at each other. Yagharek drew back a little.

“It’s not alone,” Isaac repeated softly. Behind him, Derkhan nodded in mute accord. “It’s given us directions. It can read and write—that’s how it realized David sold us out, it found his discarded instructions—but it’s not a sophisticated thinker. But it promises that if we go to Griss Twist tomorrow night, we’ll meet something that can explain everything. And that can help us.”

This time, it was us that filled the silence with its reverberating presence. Lemuel shook his head slowly, his face set and cruel.

“Damn, Isaac,” he said quietly. “ ‘We’? ‘Us’? Who the fuck are you talking to? This is nothing to do with me . . .” Derkhan sneered in disgust and turned away. Isaac opened his mouth, dismayed. Lemuel interrupted him. “Look, man. I was in this for the money. I’m a businessman. You paid well. You got my services. You even got a little bit of time free, with Vermishank. I did that for Mr. X. And I’ve got a soft spot for you, ’Zaac. You’ve been straight with me. That’s why I came back down here. Brought a bit of grub, and I’ll show you out of here. But now Vermishank’s dead and your credit’s run dry. I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but I’m off. Why in fuck should I go chasing these damn things? Leave it to the militia. There’s nothing for me here . . . Why would I hang around?”

“Leave it to who . . . ?” hissed Derkhan with contempt, but Isaac spoke over her.

“So,” he said slowly. “What now? Hmmm? You think you can go back? Lem, old son, whatever else you might damn well be, you ain’t a stupid man. You think you weren’t seen? You think they don’t know who you are? Godsdamn, man . . . you’re wanted.”