Un Lun Dun

39. Due Diligence

From these heights, Deeba could see the UnLondon-I. The flickering of Wraithtown, the dark tiles of the Roofdom. She could see the glimmer of the river bisecting the city, the two enormous iron crocodile heads squatting on either side of it.

The night sky crawled with moving stars. A flying bus cut across the front of the loon.

“You see?” Margarita Staples pointed across UnLondon.

In the midst of the roofscape of mixed-up architecture, of huge tiger paws and apple cores and weirder things that served as houses alongside more conventional structures, was a darkness.

“Oh my gosh,” Deeba said.

A clot of black enveloped a group of streets. It was hard to see, a shadow in the shadowy night.

As Deeba watched, tongues of substance unrolled from it and seemed to lick the buildings, leaving them smut-stained. It sent out cloud-tentacles like a dirty octopus.

Margarita pointed at another patch of roiling fumes, and another. UnLondon was dotted with clutches of malevolent smoke, where the abcity had fallen to the Smog.

“My job was never boring,” Staples said. “There’s nuts-and-bolts stuff like getting the tarpaulin over the shaft when it rains, and so on. Cataloging and reshelving. The shelves are in a shocking state. And when you’ve got everything ever written or lost to keep track of, it’s quite a job. And there’s fetching books.

“I used to really look forward to requests for books way down in the abyss. We’d all rope up, follow our lines down for miles. The order falls apart a way down but you learn to sniff out class-marks[4]. Sometimes we’d be gone for weeks, fetching volumes.” She spoke with a faraway voice.

“There are risks. Hunters, animals, and accidents. Ropes that snap. Sometimes someone gets separated. Twenty years ago, I was in a group looking for a book someone had requested. I remember, it was called ‘Oh All Right Then’: Bartleby Returns. We were led by Ptolemy Yes. He was the man taught me. Best librarian there’s ever been, some say.

“Anyway, after weeks of searching, we ran out of food and had to turn back. No one likes it when we fail, so none of us were feeling great.

“We felt that much worse when we realized that we’d lost Ptolemy.

“Some people say he went off deliberately. That he couldn’t bear not to find the book. That he’s out there still in the Wordhoard Abyss, living off shelf-monkeys, looking. And that he’ll be back one day, book in his hand.”

Margarita shook herself.

“Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t go on. I’m just saying that I’m not scared of a bit of danger. But I never thought I’d be working in a war zone. And it’s going to get worse. The Smog could attack anytime.

“We have to keep watch for attacks against the tower. That was never what the job was supposed to be. We’re hoping the winds this high’ll put the smogglers off.”

“What happened to the people who lived there?” Deeba said.

“In the Smog zones? Those that were inhabited, people had to get out. Those that weren’t fast enough…?” Margarita shook her head. “No one can go back now. You can’t breathe there. They say there are things that creep out of the Smog zones at night and set fires, or lie in wait and snatch people. Stink-junkies…the dead returned…and smoglodytes— weird things, born out of the chemicals.”

“I dunno what’s been going on,” Deeba said. “But I know who’s part of it. Benjamin Unstible.”

“Oh yes,” Staples said. “You’re quite right.”

“Really?” said Deeba. They’ve worked out for themselves that they can’t trust him, she thought.

“Yes,” Margarita Staples went on. “If it weren’t for Dr. Unstible, we’d all be dead.”

Ah, thought Deeba.

She was about to interrupt the bookaneer and explain why she thought she was wrong, but something stopped her. There was a fervor in Staples’s voice.

“I haven’t yet got my unbrella,” she said. “The Unbrellissimo’s distributing them as fast as he can, all of them vulcanized with Unstible’s formula. I was saving up to pay. But Brokkenbroll won’t even accept any money for them. Peter Nevereater…” She pointed across the bookpit at a colleague. “He’s got one, and he was caught in a Smog attack.

“They’re amazing! He told me. You don’t even have to know how to defend yourself! They’ve been given their orders; they’re all fully trained. Peter didn’t even have to get under cover. The unbrella just danced in his hand and kept all the rain-bullets from touching him.”

“I’ve seen it happen,” said Deeba.

“It’s an honor to help him,” Margarita said. “Every day or two we get requests from Unstible, for more and more arcane volumes. Chemistry and sorcery. And chemico-sorcery. And sorcero-chemistry. Some pretty hard expeditions to find them, I can tell you. But worth it, for whatever he’s learning.

“The Smog’s been spreading badly. But if it weren’t for the unbrellas it would’ve taken over the whole abcity by now. With Unstible’s help, we’re in with a chance.”

It was obvious how much trust she put in Benjamin Unstible and his formula. Deeba thought quickly.

Her plan had been to announce to everyone who’d listen that Unstible wasn’t what he seemed, but she realized that might not go down well. At best, Margarita would think she was mad. At worst, she might consider Deeba an enemy of UnLondon.

Deeba didn’t want to end up in an UnLondon jail, or on the run. And besides, Margarita’s certainty made her question her own conclusions. Wasn’t it possible Deeba had got the wrong idea?

Maybe I should just go back, she thought, and shuddered to think of climbing all the way down again. She didn’t even know if it would work. But more than that, uncertainty gnawed at her.

I can’t say anything until I’m totally sure Unstible’s lying, she thought. I might be totally wrong. But if not…UnLondon is in real trouble.

She cast her eyes over the abcity, wondering what to do. Nearby, the flickering outlines of Wraithtown caught her eye. She remembered something that Obaday Fing had told her about its inhabitants.

The roofs of Wraithtown weren’t consistent. Their shapes shifted. From this distance they seemed to move like pale cold flames.

Deeba did not like the direction her own thoughts were going. She tried to work out some other way of finding out the information she needed. Unfortunately, she couldn’t. She sighed. She had just thought herself into a dangerous expedition.

But I have to be totally certain, she thought. So no one can think I’m mad.

“Can you tell me how to get down?” she said. “Also…what do you know about Wraithtown, and the ghosts?”