He was on the right, and the civilized veneer was cracked somewhat by the lowness of his seat, which had his knees almost at chin height. Centre and left were a pair of rat-weasels, reclining in similar contrivances—the effect was as though they were slouching in beanbag chairs, although for rat-weasels this presumably indicated elegant luxury. The one on the left was smaller, sleek and wearing a robe of hatched black and grey. A great spray of knotted plumes sprang from the robe’s neckline, arranged behind the creature’s head like an opened fan. The rodent-in-chief was clearly the central one of the group, a swag-bellied creature twice the girth of its peers, topped by an elaborate coiffure or headdress that doubled its height. Its robe was arranged for several square feet around it in careful, intricate folds, decorated with eye-wandering arabesques and geometric patterns in a dozen different greys. Briefly, Lee interpreted this all as “barbaric splendour,” but then her critical eye kicked in and she understood. Every aspect of the chief rat’s costuming was simply to do with taking up space: what greater luxury could there be than to sprawl, in this warren of a world?

The chief rat-weasel hunched forwards. Despite its paunch, it was flexible enough to lean in to stare at Lee and Khan. It chittered and burped conversationally, and she was startled to hear a flat human voice come from a device near the reclining man. “Which is the scientist?”

The man—and Lee was sure she’d seen him before on TV somewhere—languidly pointed. “Dr. Khurram Amir Khan.” He smiled urbanely. “I really must apologize for the disruption attendant on your arrival here. It’s an inexact science, especially when we have to work against chaotic elements such as your former captors.”

“I know you,” Khan said. “You’re…Rove, the venture capitalist.”

The thin man nodded, still all charm. “And I’m recruiting you to save the universe, or whatever small part of it we may be able to wall off from the coming disaster. I’d ask you not to take against my allies, by the way. They need a bit of getting used to, but they at least have a functioning technology capable of the task, as well as many other things.”

Khan’s retort died on her lips as her eyes slid over to the windows. The air had darkened—showing not evening, Lee realized, but smog. There was a horizon out there now: a dense bristle of spires and mounds—no, lightless buildings, ziggurats and towers, all interconnected with covered bridges, cables and ducts. No sign of the Thames, but the tight-packed constructions extended as far as the dim light permitted. Doubtless the river was buried somewhere beneath, nothing more than an underground sewer for the rats.

“Lucas, you appear to have brought a spare. Is this another scientist of note?” Rove drawled.