“I’m okay, Dad, I just wanted to say I’ll see you soon. And to tell you I love you and…and don’t forget about me.”
As she spoke, Deeba was astonished to see through the glass a dense clot of wasps emerge from the phone outside the box and tear off into the night. They flew close together, extraordinarily fast, disappearing in an instant.
After a moment, they, or another group, zoomed back down out of the sky and into the phone again. They buzzed together, and through the receiver, Deeba heard her father’s voice.
“Forget about you?” he laughed. “What are you talking about, mad girl?” She laughed back, a little hysterical with happiness.
“Get Mum, will you?” she said, and watched the insects zip off again to buzz her voice down the phone to her father. But only half of them came back, and when she heard her father’s response, it was broken up and faint.
“…can’t…not…gone out…” he said.
“Say that again, Dad, I can’t hear you.” Deeba sent the wasps skywards. “Tell her I said hello! Tell her I called!” Make her think about me, Deeba thought. Hemi knocked on the phone box. Deeba didn’t even look at him, just made an irritated motion.
Her father said something else in an even more fragmented voice, and Hemi knocked again. The book muttered her name.
“Will you shut up, you two?” she said with her hand over the receiver.
“Deeba,” said the book. “Get out here now.”
When Deeba turned, what she saw through the glass made her hang up in the middle of the static that was all she could hear. She stepped back outside to join her companions.
Dark figures were bearing down on them.
They moved furtively, and fast.
“What are they?” Deeba said. She saw a quickly scuttling thing moving like a crab, something dark red and simian, a stiff-legged man the size of her little brother. They and others came towards the travelers, with no sound.
They approached with slow and threatening motions, in an amazing variety of shapes and colors and spikes and limbs. None of them had mouths.
“They’re Mr. Speaker’s court,” the book whispered. “They’re going to take us back to him. We’ve been done for unauthorized speaking in the Talklands.”
“Maybe I can explain,” Deeba said.
“Explain? You’ve done enough talking. Just keep your mouth shut from now on.”
One of the skulking little figures stamped its foot in obvious anger. It was a little potbellied man with yellow skin, on four scrawny legs, waving four thin arms at them to shut up. He had at least five or six eyes, blinking rapidly and glowering. He made a shhhh motion, with his forefinger in front of where his mouth should be.
His companions grabbed Deeba and Hemi roughly by their arms. A big mouthless squirrel with wings and something like the cross of an armadillo and a centipede squabbled silently over the book, until the squirrel-thing bore it away.
“Careful!” Deeba heard the book say. “You’ll scratch my cover!” She struggled but could not break free.
“Deeba,” Hemi muttered. “D’you think you could have a plan that doesn’t involve me being attacked?”
“Leave us alone,” she shouted. Each word seemed to make her captors more angry. “I just wanted to talk to my mum and dad. I wasn’t causing trouble. I have to go!”
But Deeba, Hemi, Curdle, and the book were swept away, out of the Blabyrinth and through the streets. For the first time since entering the borough Deeba heard noises. The night rang with extraordinary cries, single words spoken with an amazing, resounding voice.
“KETTLE!” she heard, and “MAGNANIMOUS! SEPTIC! GULLY!”
These and other words emanated from an enormous building shaped like a drum, towards which the silent figures dragged them.
59. Despotic Logorrhea
“SO,” the enormous voice said as Deeba and her companions were dragged inside. The sound of the words echoed everywhere. “UNLICENSED SPEAKING. THAT’S A SERIOUS OFFENSE IN THE TALKLANDS.”
In the dead center of the huge hall, a man sat on a raised throne. At least, Deeba thought, sort of a man.
Under sumptuous robes, his limbs and body were twig-thin. His head was extended and misshapen, to accommodate his absolutely enormous mouth. It was almost as big as the rest of his body. His huge jaw and teeth moved exaggeratedly as he spoke with that astonishingly loud voice.
He wore a crown of inverted spikes, each of which, Deeba realized, was a speaking trumpet that swung down in front of his mouth, to amplify him further.
“TERMINUS!” he said. “SPOOL! BRING THE CULPRITS CLOSER. GECKO!”
When he spoke, Deeba saw quick motion in front of Mr. Speaker’s mouth.
“What was that?” Hemi whispered.
“QUIET!” Mr. Speaker shouted, and Deeba gasped to see something living slip from his mouth, scuttle like a millipede down his shirt, and disappear. “NO TALKING WITHOUT PERMISSION!”
With each word, another strange animal-thing seemed to coalesce and drop from behind his teeth. They were small, and each a completely different shape. They flew or crawled or slithered into the room, where, Deeba realized, hundreds of other creatures waited. Again, none had mouths.
“SOOOOO,” Mr. Speaker said slowly, watching her, a snail-thing popping out from between his lips. “YOU’RE JEALOUS OF MY UTTERLINGS?”
Five more animals emerged. One, when he said jealous, was a beautiful iridescent bat.
“SOLILOQUY!” Mr. Speaker said. His enormous lips stretched around sound that seemed to coagulate. The word thickened and tumbled out, taking on color and shape, rolling into his lap in a trembling ball.
It unfolded shyly and looked around. The word soliloquy was a long-necked sinuous quadruped. Mr. Speaker raised his eyebrow at it. The utterling scrambled off him, shook itself, reared on its hind legs, and grabbed hold of Hemi.
“Eeurgh…” Hemi said, then shut his mouth sharp as Mr. Speaker stared at him.
“UTTERLINGS,” Mr. Speaker said. “MY WORDS MADE FLESH.” More fleeting things left his mouth. “GUM!” he bellowed, and a slug-snake oozed out and around Deeba’s ankles.
“Good thing they don’t last forever,” the book whispered. “Or he’d take over UnLondon.”
“ARE YOU SPEAKING?” Utterlings tumbled from Mr. Speaker’s maw. “I GAVE NO PERMISSION! QUIET! CARTOGRAPHY!”
The last word was a thing like a bowler hat with several spidery legs and a fox’s tail. All through the hall, the utterlings trembled.
After a silence, Deeba raised her hand. Mr. Speaker sat back, obviously pleased that she had asked permission to speak. He nodded.
“Um…I’m sorry I didn’t know the rules and that…but…we really need to get out and find something. It’s really important. We’re in a hurry.”
“WHAT IS THE NATURE OF YOUR SEARCH?”
The utterlings the and search were tiny beakless birds. Deeba ignored them as they fluttered. Hemi nodded at her, and the book whispered, “Go on.”
“Well,” she said. “We’re looking for something to fight the Smog. Please let us go. For UnLondon’s sake.”
“THE SMOG? WHAT DO I CARE ABOUT THE SMOG?” The two utterlings for the word Smog were similar little monkeys, but each had a different skin color and number of limbs. Deeba supposed it must be to do with Mr. Speaker’s intonation.
“THE SMOG DOESN’T BOTHER ME, AND I WON’T BOTHER IT. WHAT DO I CARE IF IT RUNS UNLONDON? AWKWARD!” He spat out awkward, a two-headed chicken-bodied utterling. “YOU BROKE THE LAWS OF THE TALKLANDS. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH YOU?”