Un Lun Dun - China Mieville [114]
She saw the squid-goat thing. It eyed her as she approached. She was sure it was straining against its bonds, but it could do no more than make the grapes hanging from its chin tremble.
Behind it, where the smoglodytes were closer to each other, the vines had grown together, connecting overhead from creature to trapped creature. They grew into fantastic shapes, stretching over the monsters. Their leaves and fruit shook as the smoglodytes struggled, but that was all.
Deeba boldly entered the new green-lined walkways.
“Deeba!” shouted Obaday, but she walked for a little distance between trapped smoglodytes, which watched her from beneath leaves. She plucked a bunch of grapes hanging from the horn of a thing staring at her with rage.
“It looks as if it’s been an arbor for years,” said the book in wonder, from under Obaday’s arm. “Whole new meaning to the word grapeshot…”
Eddying around them, the Smog seemed confused and panicked. It thrust out smoke stalks like snails’ eyes, swept down out of the air, and examined the vines that trapped its inhabitants. It coiled into a column and raced around the gathered UnLondoners, stopping in front of Deeba.
Deeba could tell it was hesitating. Slowly and ostentatiously, she raised the UnGun and aimed at it.
The Smog coalesced, poured out of sight down into a backstreet, and was gone.
“Oh, my, lord,” whispered Hemi. Skool pointed at Deeba, at the Smog, at her again.
“You scared it off!” said Obaday Fing.
Deeba looked at the UnGun. There was still smoke rising from its barrel. Deeba sniffed it. It smelt of grapes.
Tentatively, UnLondoners explored the new groves.
“I’d stay out of them,” Jones called. “You don’t know how long until the vines disappear.”
“They look pretty solid to me,” Deeba said. “And if they do disappear, I’ll bet the smoglodytes won’t hang around. Not without the Smog.”
Curious people in nightclothes were approaching. “Is that…?” they said, and, “Are you…?” Deeba ignored them.
“It still won’t open?” she said as Jones fiddled with the UnGun. He shook his head and handed it back to her.
“Are you sure you can’t remember what went in?” he said. “In what order? Remember, it turns counterclockwise.”
“Not really,” Deeba said. “I think it’s my hair in the next one. Unless it’s the salt…I thought it was sugar, you see…There was some other stuff, too…”
Jones smiled and shook his head.
“Well, if we’d known,” he said, “we might have tried to plan it. But I don’t know if we could’ve done, or if it’d make much difference. We know the Smog is scared of that thing, and no wonder…”
“You should use it,” Deeba said suddenly, and held it out to him. He flung himself to the floor.
“Don’t point it like that!” he shouted. “Is the safety catch on?”
Deeba held it awkwardly, twisting the little lever he indicated. Jones rose.
“You know how to use it,” she said. “My hand still hurts. I don’t know what to do with it. You take it.”
“I do not know how to use it. I’m a close-quarters fighter. I’ll twang a bow if I have to, but that’s all. I’m no gunslinger. Each time you fire it—if you have to fire it again—it’ll hurt less. This is your UnGun, Deeba. There’s no way I’m taking it from you.”
“Listen to you!” She stamped her foot. “You’re acting like I’m the Shwazzy. I’m not. It’s just a gun, and you should use it.”
“The thing is…” Hemi said hesitantly. Deeba saw that he and the others were standing behind her.
“Skool,” Deeba said. “You know how to fight.” She held the UnGun to him, handle-first. Skool raised a glove and wagged a finger no.
“The thing is,” Hemi said, “we all sort of think you’ll do best with it.”
Deeba looked helplessly at the pistol. From the growing crowd of onlookers, she heard a few whispered phrases.
“…scared off the Smog…” she heard, and “…Shwazzy…”
“No,” she said immediately, and turned to them. She tucked the UnGun into her belt. “I’m not the Shwazzy. I’m completely unchosen.”
“There’s no way this’ll stay quiet,” the book said.
“I know,” said Deeba. “We have to go now, even though it’s the middle