Un Lun Dun - China Mieville [44]
“We held them off as long as we could,” Jones said. “When they got inside the bus, they snatched the captive—that toga’d swine—and left.”
“When they saw the Shwazzy wasn’t there,” Deeba said.
“Poor thing,” Obaday said, looking at Zanna. Skool stroked her head.
“She’ll be okay,” Deeba said quickly. “We know what we’re going to do.”
“I couldn’t believe it, seeing her like that,” Obaday said. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Tell me about it,” the book said miserably, from Lectern’s arms.
“If she isn’t going to save UnLondon, then who is?” Obaday went on.
“Well,” said Lectern. “There may be another plan. Something rather extraordinary. A plan involving someone you will not have been expecting to see again.” She glanced at the book, and added quietly: “Just not a plan that’s written.” The book sighed.
“You remember what to do?” Brokkenbroll said. Deeba nodded.
The loon shone down. The Propheseers and a few binja were lined up to see Deeba off. She looked down at Zanna, slumped, eyes closed, in the wheelbarrow into which the Propheseers had gently placed her. It felt disrespectful, pushing her friend like that, but she had no choice.
“Soon,” the Unbrellissimo said. “I’ll get everything prepared. Six in the morning. Be ready, won’t you?” Deeba nodded again, and looked at the rest of her companions.
She’d been so desperate to go home for so long, and she was still, was frantic to see her family, but she was suddenly sad to say good-bye to these UnLondoners. By the look of their faces, they felt the same.
“You’re a tough one, Deeba Not-the-Shwazzy,” Conductor Jones said. “You…you have yourself a great life, you hear?”
“I might come back,” she said.
“I…doubt it,” Jones said slowly. He lowered himself, bringing his face to her level. “Not that easy. Believe me. I had to try for years.” He looked down for a moment. “It would be lovely if you did, believe me. You’ve impressed me. But…” He gave her a sad smile, shook his head, and gave her a sudden hug. “I’m afraid it’s good-bye.” Deeba could hardly hear him.
Skool squatted, patted Deeba clumsily, gave her a hug and a thumbs-up for good luck.
“It was an honor to take you both to the bus stop,” Obaday said. “Don’t forget me. And…remember me to the Shwazzy.”
“Or not,” warned Brokkenbroll. “You’ll have to be very careful what you say.”
“I know, I know,” Deeba said.
“Alright then,” said Obaday forlornly. “Well, you remember me then.”
“You.” It was the book. Its voice was sulky. “Fing. You’ve given me an idea.”
Lectern held the book up. Obaday leaned in, and the pinheaded designer and the redundant book of prophecies had a whispered conversation.
“As long as I can remember, I’ve been waiting for her,” the book said to Deeba. “The Shwazzy’s not to blame for my inadequacies. I always imagined how I’d be there, in the Shwazzy’s arms, giving her advice as she does what’s needed for UnLondon. I’ve been imagining that since a long time before you or she were born.
“I can hardly believe that’s not going to happen. I want to think of her carrying me around in some way. I’d like to ask you to give her something for me.”
“This is a bad idea,” Brokkenbroll said. “We have no idea what state the Shwazzy’s going to be in when she wakes…”
“Well, if it’s not appropriate,” the book snapped, “then you keep the gift, Deeba Resham. Agreed? For goodness’ sake, I want to make a gesture. For her. It’s not as if there’s much point sticking to my original use, is there?
“Open me,” it said to Lectern. “Somewhere near the beginning. A page of descriptions—they’re not inaccurate. No matter what else is.” Lectern did, and then she, Mortar, and Deeba all let out horrified shouts as Obaday leaned over and tore the page neatly out.
“What are you doing?” Lectern shouted. “Are you mad…?”
“Calm down,” said the book. “I told him to. My