Un Lun Dun - China Mieville [142]
Unstible stalked towards her, its newly pudgy hands out. Deeba backed towards the wall.
Her rebrella scuttled the last few meters to the table, leapt up, and hooked the UnGun.
“What…?” said Unstible, turning, and snarling when it saw what was happening. It leapt with that unnatural grace, like a fat tiger, nails crooked into claws. The rebrella levered itself desperately like a catapult, and sent the UnGun soaring over Unstible’s head.
The UnGun spun. It rose. Unstible seemed to change direction in the middle of its leap. It snatched at the pistol, its fingers millimeters from it, but the weapon arced just, just over its hand, and began to descend, and Deeba came forward, reached up as the UnGun came down.
And then it was in her hands, and Deeba aimed.
92
Auto-da-Fé Dreams
Even as Deeba raised the UnGun, Unstible was moving. The enormous figure jumped straight at a wall, and bounced behind the vat like a rubber ball. Deeba tried to keep her weapon trained on it, but it was so quick, and the room so cluttered, she couldn’t. She kept her back to the wall.
Unstible’s hand emerged from behind an upturned table, and reached for the controls at the bottom of the vat. It was too far. It poked its fat head around the edge of the table, and Deeba’s finger tightened.
One bullet left, she thought. Only one. Be sure.
Unstible saw her aiming, and leapt back behind its barricade. Deeba kept her weapon up.
Come on, she thought. Try for it. But Unstible stayed put.
“Careful Deeba!” the book called.
“What’s going on?” she said. “What’s that liquid?” She wished she could talk to it without Unstible hearing, but there was no way.
“That’s what it’s been working on all this time,” the book shouted. “All the books Unstible’s had people fetching from the Wordhoard Pit. All research. It’s been looking for something to make a magico-chemical reaction.”
“But why? The unbrellas have to work to make people believe this whole story him and Brokkenbroll are spreading, the whole baddy-goody thing. If they don’t work, no one’ll obey the Unbrellissimo.”
“I think there’s been a change of plans,” the book said.
“Why don’t you just ask me?” Unstible growled, and laughed.
“Don’t talk to it,” the book said. “Just be ready to shoot!”
“Unbrellas do work,” Unstible said. Deeba could hear it moving. “Protect against bullets. Against missiles. Against coal-rain. Without unbrellas, all the UnLondoners stay hidden, whenever I come. Hide in holes. Hide in cellars. They stay out of sight. No good.”
“What?” whispered Deeba.
“I want to breathe. To suck in smoke and know. The lovely burn of books, and houses, and pictures, and people. Silly UnLondoners. Silly Deeba. It’s not like ending. Everything burns, and floats in smoke, into me. I keep it safe. Make it me. I am everything.
“Everything is so fragile. So I set my fires, to breathe it in, and save it forever in my clouds. But the UnLondoners hide. Too scared. Then put out my fires.”
Deeba stared at the convoluted rebrella remains.
“It wants people to think they’ll be okay,” she said. “So they’ll come out.”
“When ’Broll heard what Unstible was looking for, over your side,” it said, “he came to me, with his plan…But he wanted to rule, by lies. And feed me a little at a time, without UnLondoners knowing what they did for me.
“He wanted me to be a secret pet.
“But I want to grow, and grow, and know. I wasn’t strong enough for a long time. But I’ve been feeding. I want to know and know and grow. Lovely books. Burn and learn, burn and learn. Lovely people, lovely minds.” The horrible crooning hunger in the voice made Deeba sick. “But you all kept hiding. And Brokkenbroll gave me an idea. So I show them, boo hoo, how much they beat me with their magic unbrellas…”
“Oh my God,” said Deeba. “They’ll all come out…It’s going to attack…to rain…and they’ll all come out, because they think unbrellas protect them…” And it’ll rain its new chemical…and everyone will burn.
“That’s what it’s been researching,” the book said. “A compound that reacts to Unstible’s formula.