on, trying not to let Valian see her reaction. She didnât need to be a genius to understand what was going on. Every time she touched something uncommon â whether it was the silver coin, Valianâs suitcase, or any of the bags down there â she could
feel
that they were different.
The more she thought about it, the more uncomfortable she felt. It couldnât have been happening to the others; Seb hadnât mentioned anything about it after he came through the suitcase, and Valian didnât react when he picked something up.
So what was different about her?
âDonât be fooled by the huge number of bags down here,â Valian said after a few minutes. He heaved aside a heavy sack. âUncommon objects are still rarer than moon rock. A common person could go their whole life and never come across one. Uncommoners use special methods to find them. Thatâs why Lundinor only opens three times a year; everyone spends the rest of the time getting hold of something worth trading. Right now weâre in the middle of the winter trading season â thatâs when Lundinor opens, from Christmas Day till Twelfth Night.â
Ivy struggled for words; there was too much to say. The more Valian explained, the more frighteningly real Lundinor became. âThis whole thing is insane,â she said finally, dropping a bag on the floor. âYou know that, right? How come no one knows about this? Think of all the amazing things people could achieve using uncommon stuff. You could probably save lives.â
âOr end them.â Valian snatched at another handle. âPart of the reason uncommoners keep the Trade secret is to prevent uncommon objects from getting into the wrong hands. Thereâs a whole guild of traders whose job it is to conceal the uncommon world from muckers, just to protect them.â
He shoved a few more bags out of the way and then looked up at the shrinking pile. Behind it was a dark, square hole in the wall. A selection of leather belts hung from a row of hooks beside it. âElevation shaft,â Valian explained, pointing. âNo one uses it much any more. Itâll be the safest way for you to travel.â
As Ivy considered the dark hole, her mind returned to her brother. She pieced together what Valian had told her. If, as a mucker, she was banned from undermarts, it was going to be harder than she thought to get Seb back. âThe underguards . . .â she said. âTheyâre like your police, right?â
Valian lugged a heavy canvas backpack out of the way. âTheyâre meant to be.â
Ivy pictured Officer Smokehart with his â she now guessed â
uncommon
toilet brush, and hoped Seb was all right. She reached down for the strap of one last rucksack; it was making a funny chattering sound. When she bent closer, she spotted something tied to it â a tortoiseshell comb.
âCareful!â Valian yelled. He grabbed the bottom of the bag and threw it onto his pile. As it hit the other bags, it made a strange clicking sound before falling silent.
Ivy stared at it. âWhat theâ?â
Valian reached into his jacket pocket and brought out his comb again. âRemember this?â He stroked it gently, and in a startling instant the plastic teeth transformed into real gnashing canines and incisors, set into brown plastic gums.
Ivy shrank away, aghast.
Valian shrugged. âItâs an anti-pickpocket device.â He stroked the comb in the other direction and then tucked it back into his pocket. âObjects have different uses when they turn uncommon,â he said, scrambling over what was left of the rucksack mountain. When he reached the rail of trouser belts, he threw one back to Ivy and took another for himself.
Ivy jumped up to catch it.
âUncommon belts kinda do what normal belts do,â he called, fastening the buckle. âThey hold things up.â He raised the belt above his head