Un Lun Dun

“He says over the last few days, everyone’s been talking about the Shwazzy and what she’s doing. Then he says other people tell them off and say she’s not the Shwazzy at all, but that she’s doing something anyway. He’s been looking for us. He intercepted the stink-junkies, and realized they were coming for us.”

“Yorick, mate,” said Jones as he rowed. “Keep it down a bit.”

The bird whistled more quietly.

“The Smog’s attacking on several fronts,” the book translated, “and the Unbrellissimo’s flying from place to place, ordering his unbrellas into action defending people.”

“Yeah,” said Deeba. “Defending them so long as they retreat, I bet. While the Smog takes what it wants.”

“Well yes, but apparently some people are saying they don’t want to go, and they’re trying to use the unbrellas to fight back. So Brokkenbroll’s having to order them into action against the people who carry them. Telling everyone it’s for their own good, and they have to pull together.”

It was, Deeba realized, a very confused war. She looked back at the giant hairball still twitching on the docks. Cavea whistled.

“He says he has to go. He doesn’t want to leave his body unguarded tonight. He says good luck, good luck, good luck.” The little bird circled, and Deeba blew it a kiss. Then it scudded over the surface of the river back to its body and its cage.

The higgledy-piggledy procession of upside-down cars proceeded along a river full of obstacles. Hemi steered them past the hulks of sunken ships, and half-submerged old guns, and oddities, and amphibious trees with roots in the sludge on the bottom, leaves emerging from the black water and rustling on the vessels that passed them.

83. Wracked

One by one the [image should be there]s pulled away onto the shore, and each crew set off into the streets. It was less than a mile to the factory.

Soon only the Diss&Rosa was left in the water. In the river-walls, Deeba saw the ends of tu

The ghosts around them faded from view, until they were only glimpsed as an occasional half-visible pair of eyes. Deeba felt very exposed in the river.

“Here we go,” muttered Jones, looking over his shoulder, and veering the Diss&Rosa slowly towards a darkness Deeba realized was a gate sluicing into the river. It led into a narrow cha

“Where are we going?” Deeba whispered.

“Into the canals,” said Hemi.

The concrete walls were so close rowing was difficult.

The houses backed straight onto the water. Sometimes they co

“It’s blocked,” said Deeba.

“It’s a lock,” said Jones.

He climbed from the Diss&Rosa and operated a mechanism on the bank, opening the gateway slightly so water poured through. The [image should be there] went forward to another gate. Jones closed the first and opened the other. This time the water level rose.

“Like steps,” Jones said, “up into the backstreets.”

The locks continued, to a quiet, narrow stretch of water. We must be way above the river now, thought Deeba.

“Everyone hush,” Jones whispered, pointing to the windows of the houses that backed onto them.

“I think they’ve got other things to worry about,” Deeba said. From the streets beyond the buildings, they could hear shouting, and ru

Through the Diss&Rosa’s windshield, Deeba saw fingers of weed rise from the murk and stroke the underside of the metal. Deeba put her face close to the glass to watch them, then sat hurriedly back.

“It moved,” she said.

The stuff floated around them. It drifted by in little islands. As Deeba watched it, one quivered, and reached out a tendril to grab a passing piece of rubbish. It hauled it in— it was a mouldy fish carcass— and the slimy clot of weed quivered more.

“That’s shudderwrack,” said Lectern. “Keep your hands out of the water.”

“That’s it,” said Jones, and drew in the oars. “Too narrow. I’ll have to pull from the shore…” He stopped. The houses came right up to the water. There was no towpath.

Skool held up a glove.

“Skool…?” said Obaday Fing.

Skool took hold of the rope attached to the Diss&Rosa’s front. Then, with a wave, Skool tapped the glass and brass of the diving helmet ostentatiously, and stepped off the bow into the water. There was a splash so quick it sounded like shloop, and Skool was gone.

The rope descended into a widening ring of ripples. Clumps of shudderwrack drifted over to examine the disturbance, and Obaday batted them away. “Skool!” he said.

There was a knocking at the inverted windshield. Looming out of muddy darkness, a glove rapped at the glass.

“There!” said Deeba.

The water was too dirty to see much, but Deeba could just make out Skool’s arm, and a hulking shadow that must be the brass bowl of the helmet. Skool put thumb and forefinger together in an everything’s okay motion.

Obaday and Deeba returned the signal. Skool’s hand disappeared, and a few moments later the rope angled out in front, and the [image should be there] began to move. For a long time, there was no sound except the gurgle of its progress.

Weed ducked under, investigating the intruder, but Skool was unintimidated. Several times, clots of shredded shudderwrack bobbed to the surface.

“There.” Jones pointed over the roofs. Around a curve in the canal, a brick chimney rose, sooty plumes gushing from it. There was a big clock halfway up one side.

“Unstible’s factory,” Deeba said. She remembered the first time she had come. It felt like a whole other life.

“We’re coming in at the back,” said Lectern nervously. “There should be a loading stage.”

“Time to be on guard,” said Jones. “This is Unstible’s stronghold. He and Brokkenbroll are going to have allies here.”

The bank opened into a yard at the rear of the factory, deserted but for clumps of crabgrass. Deeba looked up at the red brick, the unlit and boarded-up windows. In one corner a door hung ajar. From this angle, she could be looking at a view of London.

As the boat drifted closer, something moved by the doorway. A broken umbrella jerked up. With its effortful open-and-close strokes, it flitted into the air and away.

“It saw us,” said Deeba. “We have to move.”

She knocked on the windshield. Skool’s faceplate appeared below. Obaday beckoned.

“What’s that?” said Lectern.

Something dark was circling Skool in the water, in little spasms, fingering the leather suit with filaments.

“Just a bit of shudderwrack,” said Obaday.

“There’s another,” said Deeba.

Suddenly there were several, and Skool was waving as vigorously as the water would allow, to disperse them. The utterlings jumped up and down in agitation, Cauldron pointing all his arms.

Something moved behind Skool’s back. Ropelike limbs snaked out of the black and coiled around Skool’s legs, arms, chest, and faceplate. There was no sound at all.

“No!” said Obaday, his hands flat on the glass. A huge mass of weed loomed from the mud and enveloped the diver, folding in on itself again and again, pulling Skool out of sight into the dark.

“The shudderwrack,” said Deeba. “It’s got him!”

Everyone scrambled onto the concrete shore. They leaned out over the water as far as they dared, hissing Skool’s name.