Un Lun Dun - China Mieville [36]
“UnLondon needs you, Shwazzy,” Lectern said.
“I’m sorry, but this ain’t our problem!” said Deeba. “We have to go.”
“Go back and what?” Mortar said. “Wait for another attack?”
The girls stared at him. “Please,” Mortar said. “UnLondon needs your help, it’s true. But in any case, it isn’t safe for you to leave. You’re followed. All the way in London. If you left now, there’d be nothing to protect you.”
“Think about it,” said Lectern gently. “You think the Smog won’t try again? How safe do you think you are? You’re here for a reason, Shwazzy. For your own sake as well as ours. So we need to know what Brokkenbroll knows. And so do you.”
Zanna and Deeba stared at each in horror.
“We’ll see if we can’t track Mr. Brokkenbroll down,” said Lectern. “Don’t you worry.”
“So he can explain why his umbrella was watching my house?”
“That’s the idea.”
24
An Interruption in the Process
“That thing came after you,” Deeba said. “Becks…she’s alright, but she might not have been. That was meant for you.”
Deeba stroked Curdle. The girls sat in the middle of the Propheseers’ bridge-office as their hosts scurried around them.
“Put out a message on the walls?” the girls heard someone say. The Propheseers had been debating strategy. They rummaged in files, pulled up information on their strange computers, bickered over how to proceed. “Who do we know who might give us an in?” they heard Mortar say over the tapping of typewriters.
“I thought you might be hungry.” It was Lectern, carrying a plate of strange-looking cakes. The girls eyed and sniffed them, but despite their peculiar colors, they smelt like food. Deeba and Zanna ate.
“Sorry this is taking awhile,” said Lectern. “Normal service. You know. Resumed as soon as possible.” She watched them until they were uncomfortable. “Sorry,” she said hurriedly. “I know this must be hard for you. We’re doing everything we can. This is…a very big time for us. I’ve been Mortar’s second for, well, an embarrassing number of years, and no one knows the book better than me—I’m its bearer, after all—and I still can’t believe it.” She couldn’t stop smiling. It was infectious.
The UnSun was halfway across the sky, but Zanna and Deeba’s body-clocks were totally confused. They fought not to doze. Every so often a Propheseer would bring them cups of tea. “We’ll be with you very shortly,” she or he would say. “Sorry for the delay.” Birds flew overhead, along with bigger, odder-looking things.
From the street under the bridge came a faint whistle.
“Did you hear that?” said Deeba. Curdle skipped back and forward.
“Oy,” someone below shouted. The voice was very faintly audible.
“No,” said Zanna, standing. “But I heard that.” There was a commotion.
“Something’s coming,” Zanna said. A figure was stumbling slowly up the bridge, Propheseers running to help it.
“What’s happened?” Zanna shouted. She ran towards them, Deeba and Curdle on her heels.
Helped up the slope of the Pons Absconditus was a binja. Its metal was cracked, and bleeding a tarry goo.
“We’re under attack!” a Propheseer said. “The binja were ambushed! Thank goodness they heard something.”
From the empty street where the bridge touched down, several other binja were coming. They walked backwards, weapons up, guarding the end of the bridge.
“They’re watching both ends,” Mortar said. “No one should be able to get past us.”
“I thought no one could get on the bridge,” Zanna said.
“Well no one’s supposed to,” he snapped. “But no system’s perfect. That’s what the binja are for. Just in case.”
The binja congregated in front of their injured friend and the cowering Propheseers. They stood with weapons ready. They waited.
And waited.
“So…where are they?” Deeba whispered.
There were tiny whispering noises. The Propheseers and the binja looked frantically around.
“There!” said Zanna.
Meters behind them, in the center of the bridge by the office, grappling hooks were