Un Lun Dun Read online

  “I said I’d get you to the bridge,” he said carelessly. “Might as well do that.”

  “And I’m bringing a friend.” Hemi raised an eyebrow. Curdle refused to leave her grasp. “Two friends,” Deeba said.

  The basket spun, but Deeba had lost any fear she might have had of heights. She leaned over and waved good-bye to a still slack-faced Obaday Fing. Curdle bounced in her hands and looked down, too.

  Hemi clung to the sides of the basket. His eyes were firmly shut.

  “You’re half-ghost,” said Deeba. “How can you be scared?”

  “Just because half my family are unquiet dead,” he hissed, “why should I like this sort of thing?”

  He didn’t open his eyes until the conductor pulled him into the bus.

  “Hello Jones,” said Deeba, and hugged him. “You’re not going to start insulting Hemi, are you?”

  “Your friend’s got ghost in him.” Jones eyed Hemi judiciously. “Not my business. He’s my passenger now, and that means he’s under my protection. Although that does mean, young man, no more climbing the outside of the bus, no more dropping through floors, no more leaving clothes in dirty piles. Are we clear?”

  Hemi didn’t look at him, but his pale face darkened, just slightly.

  “Dunno what you mean, Conductor,” he muttered.

  “How come you came here?” she said. “I thought you didn’t like going off your route.”

  “There’s always exceptions. When Mr. Murgatroyd here came and explained the situation, we didn’t hesitate. He needed some help to find you, said they’d had a message from you, back in the old city, and could someone help him track you down. Well, the Propheseers knew I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to see you again, was I? I knew if I were you I’d head back here, where you’ve got friends. But I didn’t really believe you’d be here!”

  “I had to come,” Deeba said.

  “Miss Resham.” The nervous man stepped forward, interrupting. He looked quite gray. He carefully did not get close to the edge of the platform. “I’m Murgatroyd, of the Ministry of the Environment. I’m Rawley’s man.” He shook her hand. He did not even look at Hemi.

  “What do you do?” Deeba said. “For Rawley.”

  “The lurch…” he said, then stuttered. “Th-that is to say, I, ah…I lurch. Minister Rawley’s brainchild. It’s, ah, a kind of experimental Odd-crossing technique. I ‘lurched’ here. I’m trying to perfect it.”

  “I can’t believe you found me,” Deeba said. Murgatroyd inclined his head modestly.

  “We have certain methods,” he said.

  “What’s this about, Deeba?” Jones said. He kept an eye on the sky, in case the Smog returned. The bus rose and set off over the city. Deeba watched the fabric of the market, and the ghost-slates of Wraithtown lapping like froth.

  “This is what I’m telling you,” she said, and reached for the paper. “I found something…”

  “Wait,” Murgatroyd said quickly. “I’m not sure what evidence you have, but we can’t put this into the public domain just yet.”

  “But Jones isn’t just anyone.”

  “I must insist.”

  “It’s alright, Deeba,” Jones said. “I just want to get you where you’re going. I don’t know what’s going on and, right now, I don’t need to. I’ll find out if the time comes.”

  “But why?” said Deeba quietly to Murgatroyd. “D’you think I’m wrong?”

  “On the contrary, Miss Resham,” he said quietly. “On the contrary, Minister Rawley’s sure you’re right.

  “But things have gone pretty far already. We need to work out what we’re going to do. We have to put together a strategy. So to do that, we’re going to meet someone who knows…the person you’ve expressed concern about…better than anyone. Who’ll be in the best position to really know what’s going on, to take a look at your evidence, and to decide what to do about it. Someone who’s going to be even angrier than you at having been misled.”

  “Mortar?” said Deeba.

  “Better than that.”

  Rosa took the bus between shadowed patches of abcity.

  “So…I told you not to worry about your family panicking, didn’t I?” Jones said.

  “Yeah,” she said cautiously, remembering their reactions on her return. “I’m still not hanging around, though. The Prophs can take me back again.”

  “Got all the way here just to pass on this information?” He shook his head. “I take my hat off, girl. You’ll have to tell me how you got over. And you’re probably sensible. That phlegm effect does have its costs. Doesn’t matter to one like me, no intention of going back, but you…” His voice petered out.

  Jones pointed out over smoke-stained landscape like a smudged map. “Look at that smogmire,” he said. He handed Deeba his telescope. Peering through it into those boroughs where Smog filled the streets, she could see dim shapes moving like malevolent fish below the smoky surface. “All kinds of things mutating into life in there,” he said.

  “Where are we going?” Hemi said.

  “Yeah, where are we going?” said Deeba. “There’s the Pons Absconditus.” She pointed. She wondered how come it was there, when its ends were also in several other places.

  There was a pause before Murgatroyd answered.

  “We’re going…nowhere in particular,” he said. “To a little interstice between several areas. Hidden. Careless talk costs lives. We can’t risk this getting back to the Smog. And until we know exactly what you know, we can’t risk it getting back to…the subject of your discussions, either.”

  “We’re close,” Jones said. “Time we got out of sight.” He rang the bell, and the bus descended.

  It wove between buildings, hissing as it let out its gas and the balloon went flaccid, until its wheels touched down and it drove earthbound. They were in a deserted part of the abcity. There was no one on the streets, and no lights in any windows.

  “Where is everyone?” Hemi said. “Is this emptish? A stopover?”

  “No, these are empty,” Jones said. “The Smog took over only a few streets away. It’s not safe.”

  “So why we here?” Deeba said, alarmed.

  “People don’t come here now—that’s sort of the point,” Jones said.

  “We mustn’t be observed,” said Murgatroyd. “So long as we’re quick, this is perfect.”

  “No one would dare come here,” Hemi said to Deeba. He pointed down an alley they passed. At its end was a wall of Smog. Deep in its wavering filaments, predatory shadows moved.

  48

  Spilling Certain Beans

  The bus puttered to a halt beside a church made of ancient, broken personal stereos and speakers.

  “Can you wait?” Murgatroyd said to Rosa and Conductor Jones. “I and…our contact, may need a lift to the bridge to speak to the Propheseers. And Miss Resham, of course.”

  “I really think they should come,” Deeba started to say, but Murgatroyd ignored her. He beckoned Deeba and Hemi, who followed him into the dark streets by the side of the moil church.

  Deeba looked back again doubtfully at Jones.

  “Go on,” he said gently as she went. “We’ll see you in a bit.”

  Murgatroyd led Deeba and Hemi past an ancient-looking pile of rubbish bags and trash into a concrete cul-de-sac. The UnSun drew sharp shadow-lines across the little lot, and put its farthest corners into darkness.

  There was silence for several seconds. In that quiet, Deeba could just hear a faint tireless whispering.

  What is that? she mouthed at Hemi.

  “It’s the sound of the Smog,” he murmured. They were hearing it coil and unfold, a few streets away.

  A voice emerged from the shadows.

  “I’m here.”

  Deeba and Hemi jumped. Deeba dropped her bag.

  “Mr. Murgatroyd,” the unseen speaker said. “I got your message. You told me to come alone: I’m here. You told me not to tell a soul. You specifically told me not to tell my partner. I don�
��t like deceit, Mr. Murgatroyd, but I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. Now, prove to me that I should have done.”

  Mr. Brokkenbroll stalked into view.

  “Deeba Resham.” He nodded to Deeba and Hemi. “Young man.”

  “The Unbrellissimo,” Hemi muttered. “Wow.”

  Curdle scampered behind Deeba’s feet and cowered as Brokkenbroll approached, his trench coat sweeping. Behind him came a billow of fabric and the skritch of thin metal as his entourage of broken umbrellas fidgeted in the shadow.

  Brokkenbroll folded his arms. “I’m glad to see you again. Is everything alright? Is your friend, the Shwazzy…did it not work?”

  “No, no, she’s fine,” Deeba said. “It worked brilliantly. Thanks so much. That’s not why I’m here.”

  Brokkenbroll raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m glad she’s well,” he said. “But I’m mystified. And as you can understand—a little busy. The fight we find ourselves in has been difficult. So forgive me if I keep this brief.”

  “You see, Deeba?” Mr. Murgatroyd said. “You understand why we’re here. It’s the Unbrellissimo who’s being used by this…imposter…worse than any of us. We don’t yet know why. But he has the right to know what’s going on. And, more than any of us, he might be able to do something about it.”

  “Mr. Brokkenbroll,” Deeba said. She took the sheet of Wraithtown paper from her bag, and held it out to him. “You should see this.”

  He fiddled with it for some seconds, squinting past the fluttering specter-fonts. As he made out what it said, Deeba saw his face grow hard under the brim of his hat.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what he’s doing, and I don’t know why. I don’t know who he is. But the man who says he’s Unstible, isn’t. He can’t be, see? Plus I don’t know what it is he’s giving your unbrellas. I was thinking…maybe it’s like poison, slow-acting, and they’re going to get sick or something? I mean I know it works at the moment, but you don’t know what it’ll do in a few weeks.”

  Brokkenbroll said nothing. Deeba grew nervous.

  “I mean, it might even be that whatever he wants to do isn’t even bad,” she gabbled. “But, it’s just…it probably isn’t great, because, I mean, why’d he lie? I don’t see why he’d tell everyone he’s Unstible when…he…isn’t…”

  Her voice petered out. Still Brokkenbroll was silent. He read and reread the paper.

  “So…” said Hemi. He and Deeba shared a glance.

  “So,” Deeba said. “What should we do? Because, I mean I haven’t been here long, but it don’t look to me like it’s going that well. And if you can think of something to do…”

  “Why did you come?” Brokkenbroll said at last. “Why would you make that journey?”

  There was a long silence.

  “I was worried,” Deeba said. Her voice grew quieter and quieter. “I found out something was weird, and I couldn’t…I just…I wanted to make sure UnLondon was okay.”

  “You did the right thing,” Brokkenbroll said eventually. “I don’t like being made a fool of.”

  “You can see why I called this meeting,” Murgatroyd said. “Why the minister insisted on getting to the bottom of this.”

  “I need to know everything,” the Unbrellissimo said urgently, leaning suddenly down towards Deeba and making her jump. “I need to know what you know, how you worked it out, how you got hold of this.” He waved the printout, leaving a brief trail of spirit-paper.

  “If we’re going to turn the tables I have to know exactly where we stand. We may not have much time.”

  Deeba told him everything. How she had been curious, and researched the Armets, and found the RMetS, and talked to them. How her suspicions had grown with news of Unstible’s death. How she had tried to talk herself out of them, had not been able to, had eventually crossed over, and at last found proof in Wraithtown.

  Brokkenbroll and Murgatroyd listened avidly.

  “But how did you cross over?” Murgatroyd interrupted at one point. “There can’t be more than a handful of people in London who know how.”

  “I read it somewhere,” Deeba said. “It was sort of a lucky guess.”

  “But how?”

  “I found a way in a library.” She didn’t explain further.

  When Deeba finished, Brokkenbroll and Murgatroyd both stood silent for some time.

  “That’s everything?” Murgatroyd said.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s not too late,” Brokkenbroll said. “But whoever this man is, he’s going to realize soon that we’re onto him.”

  “The liquid does seem to work,” Murgatroyd said.

  “Oh, it works. It does what it’s supposed to. But as she says, perhaps it does something else as well. Obviously he has some other plan. We have to decide how to proceed. Deeba, Hemi…” Brokkenbroll knelt before them. “Who knows about this?”

  They looked at each other.

  “No one,” she said. “Only us here. Oh, and I said something to Obaday Fing. But…” Deeba made a hmph noise. “I don’t think he believed me.”

  “Just them?” Brokkenbroll said. “No one else?”

  Deeba shook her head. The Unbrellissimo smiled slowly.

  “Good,” he said.

  He loomed suddenly and threw back his arms and spread out like a bat-wing shadow. For a second it looked as if he himself were a broken umbrella, his arms and legs crooked metal, his overcoat taut as a canopy, and then he swooped down on Deeba and grabbed her so fast he took her breath away. He bundled her into his grip and she could not scream or speak or even breathe, and everything went dark.

  49

  Trussed

  Deeba woke to voices.

  “…was that? Not too much?”

  “No, it was very good. ‘We don’t have time to waste!’ I liked that.” She heard laughter.

  It was Brokkenbroll and Murgatroyd. Cautiously, Deeba opened her eyes a crack, but saw nothing. For a moment she thought it was night: then she realized that she was wearing a blindfold. She shook herself experimentally. She could not move.

  “Deeba!” It was Hemi, speaking right behind her.

  “Hemi,” she whispered. “Where are you? I think I’m tied up.”

  “You are,” he said. “You’re tied to me.”

  Now she could feel his spine against hers, his slight wriggles. They were tied back-to-back, sitting on the cold pavement.

  “Murgatroyd grabbed me,” Hemi whispered. “While the unbrella man grabbed you. I can’t believe what you got me into!”

  Deeba’s heart was racing. For a moment she thought she was afraid. Then she realized that she was, not surprisingly, but that more than that, she was furious.

  “They tricked me,” she hissed, struggling hard and ineffectually. “Brokkenbroll’s in on it. They must’ve been trying to find out what we know. I’m such an idiot. Oh man. What are they going to do? Have you heard anything?”

  “No. Just that they’ll find out quickly—I don’t know what they’ll find out—and Murgatroyd said he was on a schedule, and that people were counting on him. Hush a minute, I’m trying to…”

  Something tugged at Deeba’s face. She stifled a scream, then wrinkled her nose at a sudden smell of off milk.

  “Curdle?” she said. Curdle clamped her blindfold in its opening and tugged, pulling it down and uncovering her eyes. “Good carton,” she whispered. It shook enthusiastically and rolled onto her lap.

  Brokkenbroll and Murgatroyd were talking, by the wall. They were lit by the dancing orange of a fire that Deeba could hear behind her. She thought she heard another sound, too. Very faintly, the padding of footsteps. They circled a little way away.

  “Can you hear that?” she whispered. “Who’s by the fire?”

  “I can’t see squat,” muttered Hemi. “I’m blindfolded.”

  Curdle gnawed at the ropes fastened around them, but its cardboard flaps made no impact at all.

  “We got to get out of here,” Deeba said. �
��We got to warn the Propheseers. We got to warn everyone. Whatever that fake Unstible’s doing, this lot are in on it.”

  “Hello,” said a voice. Brokkenbroll and Murgatroyd had seen her, and were walking over. Curdle froze, lay hidden between Deeba and Hemi.

  “How did you get your blindfold off?” Brokkenbroll continued. “You’re awake. That’s excellent. There are some things we need to ask you.”

  “Who have you told?”

  “I already said,” Deeba said. “No one.”

  “Maybe I should go back to the market,” Murgatroyd said. “Have a word with that tailor.”

  “Not a bad thought,” Brokkenbroll said.

  “Leave him alone!” said Deeba. “I already told you, he didn’t believe me.”

  “Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” Brokkenbroll said. “You see, the thing is, in not very long at all, it won’t make any difference. The unbrellas are still coming through every day, and those fools are lining up like baby birds to take them from me. Within a few weeks, everyone’ll have one, and by then whatever you know or think you know and whatever anyone believes or doesn’t won’t make an iota of difference. But I dislike being preempted. As do my associates. So we’re keen to make sure that nothing complicates matters.”

  Deeba stared at Brokkenbroll furiously and resolved not to say a word to him. He raised an eyebrow.

  “Well,” he said. “That particular expression you’re wearing is almost alarming. I’d be intimidated. If I weren’t, you know, incomparably more powerful than you.”

  He snarled the last words, suddenly lunging at her. Deeba could not help but jump, which enraged her even more.

  “It’s so foolish,” Brokkenbroll said. “This whole thing was unnecessary. I did you so many favors!” He sounded seriously aggrieved.

  “It was me who convinced my associate that it would be in our interests to let your friend, the bloody Shwazzy, go. I persuaded it to leave her. Went to some trouble to put on that little performance for you. Did you both a favor! At some effort, I might add. Made sure that little smoggler took all her memories with it, when it left, so there’d be no need for her—or you—to worry about UnLondon anymore. We took her completely out of the picture. I really don’t see the point in doing away with people if you don’t have to.