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UNDERMART OF LUNDINOR
    At 12 midday following the day on which it is announced by the four Quartermasters of the Undermart:
    All manner of uncommoners, alive or dead, may take notice that in the Great Cavern of Blackheath under the Olde City of London, and the passages, caves and chambers adjoining is now to be held an undermart for Christmas Day and the twelve days following, to which all traders may freely resort to buy and sell according to the Liberties and Privileges of the Great Uncommon Trade (GUT).
    The notice was signed at the bottom in swirly handwriting:
Mr Punch, Quartermaster of the Great Cavern, Guardian of Lundinor.
    Ivy raised her eyes slowly. The pain in her head was getting worse. ‘This doesn’t help. I’ve never even heard half of these words before. What does
undermart
mean?’
    Valian rolled up the notice and stuffed it back into his jacket. ‘Undermarts are markets that only sell uncommon objects. There’s one in the caves down here, called Lundinor. We’re sent these notices the day before they open for trade.’
    Ivy blinked. ‘A market?’ She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that.
    â€˜Classic mucker reaction,’ Valian muttered, smiling.
    â€˜You keep calling me that,’ Ivy complained. ‘I don’t even know what it means.’
    â€˜The people who are welcome in undermarts are called
uncommoners
,’ Valian explained; he sounded bored. ‘Everyone else is a
commoner
, or
mucker
for short because of that saying
common as
—’
    â€˜
Muck?
’ Ivy guessed. ‘How nice.’
    His face darkened. ‘Yeah, well, uncommoners don’t like outsiders. You can’t just join the Trade. You inherit the right to be an uncommoner through your bloodline. If your parents were uncommoners, then you will be too. There’s no other way in, and that’s the way uncommoners like it.’
    Ivy was puzzled as to why Valian kept describing uncommoners as if he wasn’t one of them.
If it runs through the family
, she thought,
then his parents must have been uncommoners too. He’s not exactly an outsider.
    â€˜Muckers are banned from undermarts,’ he continued. ‘And if an uncommoner reveals anything about the Great Uncommon Trade to a mucker’ – he ran a finger across his throat – ‘the underguards get cranky.’
    Ivy looked at him. It was obvious that he was risking his life by explaining all this to her, just so that she would retrieve something for him. She wondered, with a cold feeling of unease, what could possibly be that important.
    All of a sudden something bright yellow and squealing came streaking down the tunnel towards them.
    â€˜Mind out the way!’ called a shrill voice. ‘Coming through!’ A woman in a fluorescent workman’s vest and knee breeches was riding something – Ivy squinted: was that a
doormat
? – like it was a skateboard, except that it didn’t have any wheels and just hovered in mid-air. Valian dodged nimbly aside, but Ivy had to launch herself against the wall.
    â€˜Sorreeeee!!’ the lady called as she zoomed past. ‘I’ve just bought it! Haven’t learned how to use the brakes yet!’ Her voice followed her down the tunnel and out of sight.
    Ivy winced as she straightened. Valian pulled up his collar and rolled his eyes. ‘We need to go –
now
.’
    Minutes later, they came to a stop in front of a mountain of rucksacks, all piled on top of each other like rocks after a landslide.
    â€˜Damn it.’ Valian bent forward, picked up a bag and chucked it behind him, where it landed with a soft thud. ‘Well?’ he asked Ivy. ‘Are you going to help? We need to get through these.’
    She tentatively grasped the looped handle of the nearest rucksack. As her hand closed around it, a soothing wave of heat rolled up her arm like a warm breeze. She concentrated as she held