Against A Dark Background by Iain M. Banks

is.’
    Breyguhn shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen Cenuij for six years,’ she said. `They don’t allow visits from loved ones here. They only allow visitors one doesn’t want to see; visitors guaranteed to torment one.’ Her mouth twisted humourlessly.
    But you’re in contact with him,’ Sharrow said.
He writes.’
    Breyguhn smiled, as if with difficulty, out of practice. `Yes, he writes; real letters, on paper. So much more romantic . . .’ Her grin broadened, and Sharrow felt her skin crawl. ‘They come from Lip City.’
    ‘But does he live there?’
    ‘Yes. I thought you knew.’
    ‘Whereabouts in the city?’
    `Isn’t he registered with City Hall?’ Breyguhn smiled.
    Sharrow frowned. `The place is a barrio, Brey; you know damn well. There are quarters that don’t even have electricity.’
    Breyguhn’s smile was wintery. ‘And whose fault is that, Sharrow?’
    `Just tell me where Cenuij is, Brey.’
    Breyguhn shrugged.
I have no idea. I have to send my letters post restante.’ She looked down at the table top. Her smile faded quickly. ‘He sounds lonely,’ she said in a small voice.
I think he has other loves now, but he sounds lonely.’
    `Isn’t there anything in any of his letters-’
    Breyguhn looked up, gaze sharp. ‘Echo Street,’ she said suddenly.
    `Echo Street.’
    `Don’t tell him I told you.’
    `All right.’
    Breyguhn shivered. She drew her arms off the surface of the granite table and let her hands fall to her lap again. She looked uncertain for a moment. ‘What else was there?’
    ‘Information on an Antiquity.’
    ‘Had you a particular one in mind?’
    ‘The U.P.’
    Breyguhn put her head back and laughed; a faint echo of the noise came back, seconds later, from overhead. She frowned and put one hand over her mouth. `Oh dear; I’ll pay for that later.’ She squinted at Sharrow. ‘You want to go after the Universal Principles?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Why,’ Breyguhn said. ‘That’s the price the Brothers have set for my release; are you doing this for me, Sharrow?’ she asked, her voice heavy with sarcasm. ‘How sweet.’
    ‘It’s for both of us,’ Sharrow said. She found herself dropping her voice even though she knew that it made no difference if the Sea House’s masters were listening in. ‘I need the bit of … incidental information, the directions the work is supposed to contain. Once I have that, I guarantee I’ll give the book to the Sad Brothers. You’ll be free to leave here.’
    Breyguhn put one hand fanned across her chest and fluttered her eyelids dramatically. ‘And why do you think I can help?’ she asked, her voice artificially high.
    Sharrow gritted her teeth. ‘Because,’ she said, ‘the last time I was here you told me they let you use the libraries. You thought you were on the trail at last. And-’
    ‘Yes.’ Breyguhn’s eyes narrowed. ‘And I sent you,’ she hissed, `a letter.’ She glanced round then leaned closer. ‘I told you I had found the way,’ she whispered. ‘The means to discover . . . that book.’
    Sharrow sighed. She remembered the letter from Breyguhn; handwritten, barely legible, confused and full of wild accusations, bizarre, rambling political tirades and screeds of incomprehensible pseudo-religious rantings. Breyguhn’s claim in the course of it that she knew how to find the lost book had been mentioned almost as an aside in the midst of a manically passionate attack on the legal-political system in general and the World Court in particular. Sharrow had dismissed it at the time as literally incredible. ‘Yes, Brey,’ she said. ‘And I wrote back to tell you I wasn’t in the Antiquities business any more.’
    ‘But I told you only you could find it!’ Breyguhn spat the words out.
    Sharrow nodded slowly, looking away. ‘Indeed you did.’
    ‘And you didn’t believe me.’
    Sharrow shrugged. ‘You were the one who thought the book was here.’
    ‘Maybe it is,’ Breyguhn said, eyes narrowing. ‘Maybe they’re