Un Lun Dun

“Why’d they build the bridge here?” Deeba said.

“They didn’t,” Inessa said. “This is just somewhere people know they can find it. It’s like any bridge: it’s to co

There was no one in the streets. The streetlamps shed a dim, dirty light. Below the bridge were a load of dustbins. The corrugated metal cylinders were about half Za

“Now,” said Inessa. “We need to get onto the bridge, to see the Propheseers.”

“It comes down over there,” Deeba said. “Behind those houses.”

But behind those houses, there was another row between them and the end of the bridge. Frowning, Za

The bridge still came down close to them— but still just behind another brick row.

“What’s going on?” Za

Walking under the Pons was no problem. Za

Za

“It’s like a rainbow,” Za

Something flitted quietly through the air. They tensed, but it was just a scrunched-up piece of paper, dropping from the bridge. It settled among the dustbins.

“I wondered how they kept undesirables off,” Inessa said. “I didn’t realize the bridge was shy.”

“Yeah,” Deeba said. “Looks like they don’t need any guards.”

“Actually,” Inessa said, “I think they have them too.” She pointed.

One by one, dustbins around them were standing up.

There were seven or eight of them. A pair of ski

The dustbins stepped closer.

They moved with an athletic precision. The Slateru

“They’ve found our trail!” Inessa said.

The dustbin put its finger to where its lips should be. It made quick gestures, and two of its companions ran fast and soundlessly out of the shadows.

In the light of the streetlamps they retracted their arms and legs with a faint shlp, leaving only grubby stains where each limb had been. They were instantly disguised— just a pair of dustbins. After a moment they sprouted limbs again. They stood in karate poses. Then they opened their own lids, reached into their own dark interiors, and drew out weapons.

One took out a sword, and the other two pairs of nunchucks, which Za

You: the dustbin leader pointed to Za

“It wants us to go,” Deeba said.

“Not without the Slateru

“It’s alright,” Inessa said. “I’ve no business with the Propheseers, whereas you…you’re expected. You go, Shwazzy. We need to get back to the Roofdom. These are the Propheseers’ protectors. They’ll get us out of here safely. We’ll be alright, and so will you.”

Za

“Thank you,” Za

“Take care of yourself,” Inessa said. “Shwazzy…we’re counting on you. All of us.”

The dustbin crept, Za

“How did you do that?” Za

The Pons Absconditus rose in front of them. To either side were the doorless backs of houses. UnLondoners might be able to see the bridge from their rear windows, but without a guide, they’d have no success reaching it.

It rose like the back of a sea serpent. At its apex were moving figures.

The girls’ dustbin escort walked them onto the bridge.

“Finally,” said Za

“We can go home,” Deeba almost gasped.

“And find out the truth,” said Za

20. The Welcome

There was an office on the bridge.

In the middle of the road was a collection of desks and chairs, telephones, weird-looking computers, bookshelves, and potted plants. Twenty or thirty men and women were working away. Mostly they wore shabby suits. They read reports and shuffled files. None of them noticed Za

The girls could see to the Roofdom; they could see the waterwheel; they could see the outline of Manifest Station and across the skyline of UnLondon.

Eventually, one by one, the people on the bridge looked up. One by one, their mouths fell open. Deeba moved closer to Za

“Um…” said Za

“Can I…help you?” It was an old man who spoke. He wore a nondescript suit and an extraordinarily long beard. He spoke hesitantly, and his voice contained disapproval, surprise…and, though he was trying to hide it, excitement. “May I ask how you managed to get here? Who exactly are you?”

“My name’s Za

“I am Mortar of the Propheseers. But…but who are you?” He spoke more breathlessly, and quickly. “Where are you from?”

“I’m Za