Un Lun Dun

Deeba gaped at him.

“Give me that.” It was the book. Deeba looked at it in surprise. “The paper. We all know I don’t know UnLondon like I thought I did, blah blah, but I do know paper.”

Deeba held out her hands for the book. Lectern hesitated.

“Get on with it, it’s fine,” the book said testily. “Hand me over.” Deeba took it, slipped the paper between its pages, and closed it. The book made a sound like chewing.

“Mmm…” it said. It sounded surprised. “Well…it’s definitely genuine Wraithtown—”

“Wait!” A voice interrupted them. Everyone looked up.

Swooping down in a shadowy cloud of broken umbrellas, Mr. Brokkenbroll was dropping towards them out of the sky.

“Hold on!” he shouted as he careered for them. “There’s been a terrible misunderstanding.”

“Ah, Unbrellissimo,” Mortar shouted up. “Perhaps you can clear things up.”

“What?” Deeba said. “He’s in on it! You have to stop him! How come he can get on the bridge?”

“Of course we showed him how,” Mortar said. “He’s an ally in the battle.”

“Calm down, Deeba,” said Lectern. “There’s no need to worry.”

“Actually, you know, I think we should hear her out,” the book said, but the Propheseers weren’t listening. Hemi edged towards Deeba.

“Unstible frightened the girl,” Brokkenbroll said. He landed on the Pons in a swirl of steel and cloth, and walked briskly towards them. The unbrellas fluttered about him. “He’s not used to dealing with children. He was trying to explain that she was in danger, and she misunderstood.”

“That’s not true!” Deeba said, backing away, clutching the book like a shield. Everyone on the bridge was staring at her.

“It’s a lie,” Hemi shouted.

“It’s not her fault,” Brokkenbroll said. “Unstible feels terrible about what happened. I had to come quickly to explain, because she’s still in danger. The fact is, she has been tricked. By him.” The Unbrellissimo pointed at Hemi.

There were expostulations all over the bridge.

“Oh what?” gasped Hemi. “Here we go.” He backed away.

“I’m not sure about this,” the book said, in Deeba’s arms. “Something fu

“This is lies,” Deeba said. “He’s lying.” But Deeba could see the Propheseers listening to the man they knew, blaming the ghost they had never trusted, for misleading her, the girl who was not the Shwazzy.

“Surely this can’t be right…” said Jones, but he was drowned out.

“That ghost has been filling her head with nonsense, trying to drive a wedge between us, trying to stir up trouble, at a very delicate time in the war. The Smog’s redoubled its attacks, and we really have to pull together. And he’s misleading our honored guest in this disgraceful way, for his own nefarious purposes.”

Brokkenbroll came threateningly on, his unbrellas bounding towards Deeba and Hemi on their points. The Propheseers looked accusingly at Hemi.

“…disgraceful…” Deeba heard.

“…comes causing trouble…”

“…what’s he pla

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Hemi said, backing away.

“Are you crazy?” she wailed. “This is stupid! He’s lying! He just knows you’ll blame Hemi and not listen!”

“Give me back the book, Deeba, and come away from that boy,” Lectern said.

“Deeba,” said Brokkenbroll. “We can help you.”

Deeba tried desperately to think of some way she could persuade them to listen, that Hemi wasn’t the problem, that Brokkenbroll was lying. She looked into the Propheseers’ faces and realized she could not.

“We’ll sort out that little troublemaker,” Mortar said.

Deeba turned, still clutching the book, and yelled at Hemi, “Run!”

“Where are you going?” shouted the book. “Stop! Let me go!”

But Deeba did not let it go. Pursued by frantic Propheseers, commanded unbrellas, and the trench-coated Mr. Brokkenbroll reaching out with long fingers like an unbrella’s tines, Deeba and Curdle and Hemi the half-ghost ran.

53. A Hasty Leave-Taking

Deeba and her companions sped along the bridge that crossed from somewhere to somewhere else.

The Unbrellissimo and the Propheseers ran after them, shouting various things ranging from “Please wait!” to “Let’s sort this out,” to “Just you wait, ghost!”

“What are you doing?” the book screeched. “Put me down.”

Deeba did not slow. She didn’t have a plan: she just ran to get off the bridge as fast as she could, before Brokkenbroll reached her.

“Stop them!” she heard Mortar shout. “Before they get off!”

With a start, Deeba realized that the streets at the end of the bridge were unclear. They flickered between several configurations. She kept going.

“What’s happening?” Hemi shouted.

“I du

They were only a few feet from the end of the bridge, and the streets ahead were changing so fast they were a blur of architecture. The bridge was strobing between destinations.

“No!” shouted Mortar. “Stop it! There are too many!”

Deeba glanced over her shoulder. The general of the broken umbrellas was only a few paces behind, his unbrella hordes bearing down. He caught Deeba’s eye. An unbrella lurched out and snagged her rear pocket, and with a little cry Deeba pulled free, ripping her trousers.

“Come on!” Deeba sped straight at the rush of images. “Together!” She tucked the book under her arm, grabbed Hemi’s hand and held tight to Curdle. Hemi cried out, the book wailed, and they leapt off the end of the bridge—

54. Crossroads

— and tumbled onto tarmac in sudden silence.

Deeba rolled over frantically and threw up her hands. But nothing was coming. There was no bridge behind them.

They were lying in a wide road, in the late afternoon of UnLondon. They were quite alone.

“Oh now you’ve done it, now you’ve really done it,” the book moaned.

“What happened?” Hemi shouted. “Where are we?”

“There were lots of Propheseers,” the book sighed. “All trying to control the bridge. They each wanted to end it in a different part of UnLondon, where they thought it would be easier to catch you.”

“The bridge got confused?” Deeba said.

“It was trying to go everywhere at once. It’s only because you were all together that you ended up in the same place. It must have gone elsewhere instantly.”

“Brokkenbroll…” said Hemi. “He was right behind us.”

“By the time he got off the bridge it ended somewhere else,” Deeba said. She stood up slowly and looked around her. “So where are we?”

They were at a crossroads. No landmarks were visible. They were surrounded by nondescript houses, without even any moil buildings or strangely shaped dwellings evident. If it weren’t for the UnSun, it could be a scene from London.

“We could be anywhere,” the book muttered.

“We’ve got to do something,” said Deeba urgently. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

“They think I did it,” said Hemi. “The Prophs. They’re going to be after me.”

“They was just being stupid,” said Deeba. “Brokkenbroll knew what to say to stop them listening for a moment. That’s all he needed. You know, though, don’t you?” she said to the book. “I could tell. You believe us.”

There was a pause.

“I’m not sure,” the book said. “I don’t know what happened.”

“It was that paper. You could tell, couldn’t you? You know we’re right.”

“All I know is that paper’s from Wraithtown,” the book said. “That’s all. I don’t know anything about the rest of that stuff.”

“Yeah, but,” Deeba said, “I can tell. You believe me.”