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“You’re right,” said Jones. “We need to start traveling covertly. We couldn’t take the bus now…even if any of us could drive it…” He looked up, stricken, at the vehicle bobbing overhead.

They kept their voices down as curious locals came closer.

“Where to now?” Hemi said.

“We’ve got the UnGun…time to move on the Smog,” said Deeba.

There was sudden quiet. The travelers looked at each other.

“Just…like that?” said Hemi.

“Just like that,” Deeba said. “That smoggler’s going to find its way to the rest of itself. It won’t be more than a day or two before the whole Smog knows. And it’s going to figure out that we’re coming for it. And that might make it move.

“Do you remember what it was saying, Hemi? When it had us? It’s been trying to gather strength. That’s what it’s been waiting for, but I don’t think it’s going to wait anymore. And neither are we.”

She looked at her companions.

“Look,” she said. “I have to go. It wants me dead. It’s hunting me. You…” She hesitated. “You don’t have to come…” Her voice petered out.

Jones looked calm; Obaday scared; Hemi excited and scared. It was harder to tell how Skool, Cauldron, and Bling felt, but all of them, she was suddenly sure, were determined. Even Curdle circled like a dog that’d seen a cat.

“I think I speak for all of us,” said Hemi, “when I say do shut up with that.”

Deeba smiled with relief and delight. She was proud of them, and of herself.

“Anyway you still owe me money,” Hemi added.

“Alright then,” she said. “Let’s go. Back to Unstible’s factory. Hands up, Smog.”

“Bishops,” Deeba said. “Can we ask a favor?”

“Of course, dear girl,” said Bon.

“Anything,” said Bastor.

“We need to make sure we’re not followed. And also…When people hear about this, they’re going to ask questions. Businesspeople with plans—the Concern. And…the Propheseers. And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell them nothing.”

Deeba was anxious. The Propheseers were the most powerful body of magicians and scholars in the abcity, with reputations built on generations of study and protection. But neither of the bishops acted even slightly surprised.

“Absolutely,” said Bon, making a little locking motion by his lips with the featherkey.

“Don’t look so shocked, my dear,” said Bastor.

“Anyone who can outsmart the Black Windows is damn clever. But anyone who fights off the Smog is…well…”

“A friend of ours.”

“No questions asked.”

Deeba nodded, weak with gratitude.

“There’s one more thing,” she said. “Maybe this is the first time the Smog’s not got a neighborhood it wanted. People are going to be excited. Tell them to enjoy the grapes.” She grinned. “But if the Smog comes back…people shouldn’t use their unbrellas. They should find other ways.

“I know they won’t want to give them up, ’cause they work and all that. Really though, it’ll be safer. They can’t trust those things, or their boss. People round here know you two. It’ll be hard to persuade them, but the more you do, the better. I promise.”

There was a long pause.

“Funnily enough—” said Bon.

“—we believe you,” said Bastor.

“We’ll see what we can do.”

78

Night Eyes

Deeba and her companions traveled through strange quarters in the orange illumination of streetlights and the glow of the fat loon.

They took backstreets, climbing over walls, and through holes in fences, and empty houses. They stayed out of sight, avoiding the few night-walking UnLondoners. To Deeba’s frustration, they had to pause periodically, to let Skool catch up, heavy boots swinging with impressive quiet, but that was made up for by the times Skool pushed away some ridiculously heavy thing blocking their path. Once Jones led Deeba through what she thought for a moment were tree trunks, then realized were enormous skinny legs that supported houses, jostling each other gently.

“Come on!” whispered Jones. “Before any of them sit down.”

When the first loop of the UnSun appeared over the horizon like a sea serpent’s hump, Deeba had to admit even she needed to stop, and they found a building