Un Lun Dun

85. Six of One

Unlit brick passageways stretched in both directions.

“How do we know which way?” she said.

“Sniff,” said the book. The burnt-chemical smell of the Smog was in the air. “Follow that.”

They inhaled experimentally.

“I think it’s stronger…this way,” said Lectern hesitantly.

“Move fast,” said the book. “If you can smell it, it’s around us, and that means it knows you’re here. Hopefully right now it’s too diffuse to be much of a mind, but as it gets thicker, it’s going to think better, too.”

“So by the time we find it, it’ll be ready for us?” Deeba said. “Wicked.”

She hefted her pistol, and moved.

“Be careful with the UnGun,” Jones said.

“But I’m getting better and better with it,” she said.

“That’s not what I mean,” said Jones. He held out his hand and she passed him the weapon. He fiddled with its mechanisms, shook his head, and returned it. “I mean it still won’t open, we can’t reload, and you’ve only got two bullets left. We know the Smog’s scared of it, and you can see why. You’re going to have to use it. Husband your resources.”

They stood together a moment at a junction, the utterlings blinking, Curdle scuffing the floor, Lectern following them reluctantly.

“Jones, Obaday,” whispered Deeba when they moved on. “Is it my imagination, or are Bling and Cauldron…disappearing.”

“It’s not your imagination,” said Obaday. They stared surreptitiously. The silver locust and the eight-limbed little man were both definitely slightly see-through.

“Utterlings don’t last forever,” Jones said. “These two’ve already hung around much longer than most. Maybe getting independent of Mr. Speaker’s the reason, somehow. But we can’t expect them to be here much longer.”

“But…I hate that,” whispered Deeba. “They’re part of the team. There must be something we can do about it.”

“I’m not bananas about it myself,” said Jones.

The smell grew stronger and stronger.

“The workshop was on a top floor,” Deeba said when they reached some stairs. “And…” She sniffed. “There’s more smoke up there.”

“There’s definitely something up there,” said Lectern nervously. Noises of cackling, and gobbling, and animated talking were audible in the stairwell.

The infiltrators ascended, to a closed door. It was from behind that that the sounds were coming. The Smog-stench was thick.

Deeba listened. There were several voices emanating from behind the wood, and they were talking over each other, interrupting and finishing each other’s sentences, in aggressive, boisterous chat.

“I bet you there are six of them,” whispered Jones.

“Oh no,” said the book. “It’s true, the Smog is working with them. That’s the Hex.”

“…long are we going to be waiting?” roared one of the voices.

“Hush—”

“— up, Aye-Aye.”

“Soon, Brolly man says.”

“He says, Ivv.”

“King Smogra’s roaring around, to put the wind up ’em, make everyone practice with brollies—”

“— and tomorrow he’ll move them all around.”

“So what are we, Vee?”

“Don’t you ever pay attention? We’re helping with removals, Vee-Aye.”

“Brolly and Smogula haven’t decided yet, Broll says.”

“They dunno how long they can get away—”

“— get away yourself, AyeAyeAye!”

“Shut up! Get away persuading the UnLondoners that Unbrell and Smog-enstein are enemies.”

“They are enemies! Hasn’t Brollwah clocked that yet? He’s nothing with his poxy shields. Smogzilla don’t need him.”

“And he thinks it was all his idea! Silly hombre!”

“Its Smokeliness has other plans.”

“Not that the Brollington Prime realizes it. He did well to get the Propheseers on his side, though.”

“Yes. I seen them here.”

“Pay attention! They think Unstibulus is one of them, Ivv!”

“Don’t know he’s…puppet.”

The voices snickered.

“My, they’re going to be unhappy…”

“The Concern?”

“Propheseers! And the Concern.”

“How’d it get so strong so fast? I remember when the Smogtopus was just a wee little puff of stink. Now it’s all over the place in bits and bigger than ever…”

“Been feeding, ain’t it?”

“Suckling on chimney teats. They been sending down gunk-smoke from that other place.”

“The weird version of UnLondon? Lodno, ain’t it?”

“Something like that, Vee-Aye. Anyway, they been feeding Smogli. On the quiet.”

“Where is unbrella man anyway?”

“Things are going wrong, ain’t they? Trouble all over.”

“Hence no one here for supper?”

“Yes, what is all this for?”

“What, the spread? Broll meant it for a meeting with the Concern, tonight. Plans over repast.”

“Not happening.”

“No, things a smidge too chaotic for them to get here.”

“People are up and arguing early! He’s off like a bat-squid here and there, trying to stop trouble. There’s fighting! People not doing as told and clearing off when Smogus comes on!”

“Shouldn’t we be out, scary as bugbears, then? To frit them?”

“No need to frantic. Smogosaurus ain’t concerned. Preparing still.”

“I don’t think it’s caring if Unbrell’s having a bad night.”

“Don’t care at all.”

There was unpleasant tittering.

“They’re just nasty,” whispered Deeba. “How are we going to get past? Can we face them?”

“Absolutely not,” hissed Lectern. “They’re the Hex. Most powerful magickers in UnLondon. Each of them was strong originally. Two were Propheseers, a long time ago. But since they joined into one…No we can’t face them.”

There was a pause.

“So what do we do?” said Deeba.

“You know a funny thing?” whispered Obaday, his ear to the door. The utterlings mimicked him: locust, little man, and him, the three of them pressed up close.

“Maybe I could try to lure them out here one by one,” said Jones.

“There are six, right?” said Obaday.

“That’s crazy, Jones,” said Deeba. “They’d never buy it. We have to try to find another way round.”

“Well,” said Obaday, “I’ve been listening carefully, and I can only count five voices in there.”

One by one, Deeba and her companions stopped speaking, and turned to Obaday.

Whistling jauntily and doing up his fly, a man sauntered around the corner towards them. He was very tall and fleshy, and he squinted behind dark glasses. He wore a long pointed hat.

When he saw them, he froze. They froze too.

“She’s here!” the man bellowed. “She’s here!”

There was a commotion within. The door was pulled open, sending Obaday sprawling and the companions tumbling inside.

They were in a hall, in the center of which was a big table covered in food. Meats and cheese and fruit were piled in pyramids.

In one corner stairs led up. Deeba saw layers of smoke drifting from them, thankfully too dispersed to pay attention. The room was full of junk: suits of armor, old globes, game pieces, oily engines, and all manner of other moil.

The man from the corridor ran in behind them and slammed the door. Deeba and her companions faced the Hex.

There were three men and three women, all freakishly similar to each other. They wore identical jackets and trousers and conical hats. Each hat had different letters neatly stitched into it. The man who’d followed them in had i. The others had iv, ii, v, vi, and iii.

“Quick!” shouted the book. “Before they cast a spell!”

“Get her!” shouted the man wearing i. “It’s the girl.”

“You heard Aye,” said a woman who wore iv.

Jones reached for his club. Before he had a chance to move, the Hex pointed at Deeba with a simultaneous motion. They all spoke a word at the same instant.

“Alive!”

“Come!”

“Girl!”

“That!”

“And!”

“Get!”

A crackle of light burst from each of their forefingers, flew together, and became one. It zipped through the air, whining.

Obaday appeared in front of Deeba. He still held his little mirror, and he swung it like a racket. He intercepted the humming light and belted it out of the air, as if returning a serve. It slammed with a phutt! into the table.

“How’d you move so fast?” gaped Jones.

The couturier looked rather amazed himself.

“But…I don’t think it was going to hit her,” said Lectern.

“They were aiming at that armor,” said the book. “That was an ordersquito.”

The companions looked at the armor, then at each other. Then at Obaday’s mirror, and finally at the end of the table, where the little spell had been deflected.

On the table, one of the huge piles of fruit rumbled, spilled, tumbled into a new configuration, and stood up.