know what it’s been waiting for.”
“It’s been waiting for you, Shwazzy,” Mortar said.
“We knew it was approaching your time,” the book said. “Word’s been spreading. We heard your face had appeared in the clouds over London. That was the first sign.”
Zanna looked at Deeba.
“
Told
you,” Deeba muttered.
“Seven-oh-one,” the book said. Lectern turned pages. “‘One shall come from that other place. She shall be called the Shwazzy. To her alone it is given to save UnLondon.’ The Smog’s heard the prophecy. ‘She shall prevail in her first encounter, and again in her last.’
It knows you’re its enemy.
And it wants you gone. That’s why its forces are emerging at last. It’ll attack you as soon as it can.”
“Actually,” said Zanna, “it already has. In London.”
“But we didn’t know what it was,” said Deeba.
“It found you
there
?” gasped Lectern. “Oh, you poor thing.”
There was a long silence.
“Look,” Deeba said reasonably. “This is all…y’know, important and that. But you still haven’t told us how to get
out
of here—”
“Wait a minute,” Zanna interrupted her. “This is stupid. Why did Unstible go?” She stared at Mortar and Lectern.
“I mean…I’m supposed to defeat the Smog, right?” she demanded. “The prophecy says. It’s…mad, but just say for a moment, right? So why did Unstible go looking for the Armets? What was he worried about if I’m going to take care of it? It’s not his
job.
”
Mortar and Lectern looked at each other uneasily.
“He…always had certain ideas, about what was written,” Mortar said. “He said he wanted to be sure. ‘It’s
given
to her to save us,’ he used to say. ‘That doesn’t mean she’ll
take
it. I’ll go see what I can do.’”
“So…” said Zanna, “he disappeared ’cause he was trying to help me?”
23
The Meaning of the Trail
“What happened to Jones and the others?” Deeba said. “The ones who sent the message to you?”
“I’ve given orders to the binja to let them in if they reach us,” Mortar said, looking at Zanna. “Conductors can take care of themselves. And their passengers. Shwazzy, are you…”
“This is
crazy,
” Zanna said. “I’m just a girl. How’s a Shwazzy get chosen anyway? Why’s it a girl? Why not a local? How d’you even know I’m it? None of it makes
sense.
”
“That’s how prophecies work,” Mortar said gently. “They’re not about what makes sense; they’re about what
will be.
That’s how they work. And not only do you fit the description, but you’re
here.
You crossed over…with your friend, even. What greater evidence could there be than the fact that you’re here, now? That you found your way through the Odd, and through UnLondon, to us, the only people who could tell you what you are?”
Zanna looked at Deeba.
“You felt something, Zann,” Deeba whispered. “You did. You knew you had to get us here.”
“Did you turn a wheel?” Lectern said. “You did, didn’t you? How
did
you get down here?”
“Well,” said Deeba. “There was this smoke, and then there was this umbrella.”
In a confused, overlapping way, Deeba and Zanna told the Propheseers about the attack of the terrible smoke, and the umbrella that had come to listen at Zanna’s window.
“And then Zanna followed a trail,” Deeba said at last.
“Not on my own,” said Zanna. “We were both following it…”
“Whatever,” said Deeba. “We ended up here.”
Mortar and Lectern stared at each other.
“I wonder,” said the book.
“What
is
he doing?” Lectern said.
“Who?” said Zanna.
“The man whose servant you saw,” Mortar said. “Mr. Brokkenbroll. Head honcho of the Parraplooey Cassay tribe. The Unbrellissimo. The boss of the broken umbrellas.”
“Lots of the moil tribes have leaders,” Mortar said. “Certain substances in UnLondon exist in prologue form in London,
“It’s been waiting for you, Shwazzy,” Mortar said.
“We knew it was approaching your time,” the book said. “Word’s been spreading. We heard your face had appeared in the clouds over London. That was the first sign.”
Zanna looked at Deeba.
“
Told
you,” Deeba muttered.
“Seven-oh-one,” the book said. Lectern turned pages. “‘One shall come from that other place. She shall be called the Shwazzy. To her alone it is given to save UnLondon.’ The Smog’s heard the prophecy. ‘She shall prevail in her first encounter, and again in her last.’
It knows you’re its enemy.
And it wants you gone. That’s why its forces are emerging at last. It’ll attack you as soon as it can.”
“Actually,” said Zanna, “it already has. In London.”
“But we didn’t know what it was,” said Deeba.
“It found you
there
?” gasped Lectern. “Oh, you poor thing.”
There was a long silence.
“Look,” Deeba said reasonably. “This is all…y’know, important and that. But you still haven’t told us how to get
out
of here—”
“Wait a minute,” Zanna interrupted her. “This is stupid. Why did Unstible go?” She stared at Mortar and Lectern.
“I mean…I’m supposed to defeat the Smog, right?” she demanded. “The prophecy says. It’s…mad, but just say for a moment, right? So why did Unstible go looking for the Armets? What was he worried about if I’m going to take care of it? It’s not his
job.
”
Mortar and Lectern looked at each other uneasily.
“He…always had certain ideas, about what was written,” Mortar said. “He said he wanted to be sure. ‘It’s
given
to her to save us,’ he used to say. ‘That doesn’t mean she’ll
take
it. I’ll go see what I can do.’”
“So…” said Zanna, “he disappeared ’cause he was trying to help me?”
23
The Meaning of the Trail
“What happened to Jones and the others?” Deeba said. “The ones who sent the message to you?”
“I’ve given orders to the binja to let them in if they reach us,” Mortar said, looking at Zanna. “Conductors can take care of themselves. And their passengers. Shwazzy, are you…”
“This is
crazy,
” Zanna said. “I’m just a girl. How’s a Shwazzy get chosen anyway? Why’s it a girl? Why not a local? How d’you even know I’m it? None of it makes
sense.
”
“That’s how prophecies work,” Mortar said gently. “They’re not about what makes sense; they’re about what
will be.
That’s how they work. And not only do you fit the description, but you’re
here.
You crossed over…with your friend, even. What greater evidence could there be than the fact that you’re here, now? That you found your way through the Odd, and through UnLondon, to us, the only people who could tell you what you are?”
Zanna looked at Deeba.
“You felt something, Zann,” Deeba whispered. “You did. You knew you had to get us here.”
“Did you turn a wheel?” Lectern said. “You did, didn’t you? How
did
you get down here?”
“Well,” said Deeba. “There was this smoke, and then there was this umbrella.”
In a confused, overlapping way, Deeba and Zanna told the Propheseers about the attack of the terrible smoke, and the umbrella that had come to listen at Zanna’s window.
“And then Zanna followed a trail,” Deeba said at last.
“Not on my own,” said Zanna. “We were both following it…”
“Whatever,” said Deeba. “We ended up here.”
Mortar and Lectern stared at each other.
“I wonder,” said the book.
“What
is
he doing?” Lectern said.
“Who?” said Zanna.
“The man whose servant you saw,” Mortar said. “Mr. Brokkenbroll. Head honcho of the Parraplooey Cassay tribe. The Unbrellissimo. The boss of the broken umbrellas.”
“Lots of the moil tribes have leaders,” Mortar said. “Certain substances in UnLondon exist in prologue form in London,
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