CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Dawn came to Injiltaprajura, but the sun bells failed to ring to mark the start of istarlat. Dawn brought light to supplement the tapers burning in the Star Chamber of the pink palace atop Pokra Ridge. A ghastly sight that light revealed.
Already fat flies were bumbling over the carpet of rotten chowder and kedgeree which covered much of the floor. Part of that carpet had disintegrated into a white writhing of maggots. In among this vomit-splattered slather of rotting food there lay a good half-dozen empty crocks (which had once held firewater) and the chamberpot which the demon Binchinminfin had chosen first as crown and later as drinking goblet.
Round the room various humans stood, sat or lay in postures of sleep, exhaustion or despair. There was Artemis Ingalawa comforting an exhausted and tearful Olivia. There was the Empress Justina, her white ape Vazzy in her arms. Besides these, there were half a dozen anonymous bedraggled females — serving wenches and such — and some waiters. And the lean and leucodermic Aquitaine Varazchavardan, surveying all he saw with manifest contempt. The pink-eyed Master of Law watched a young soldier who had the wishstone in his care. The man appeared to be wishing on it. The wonderworker could guess what the warrior desired.
All the soldiers in the Star Chamber were very tired, and naturally distressed by the mephitic malodours. They had joined the army of the Izdimir Empire to get regular pay and the chance to travel and dress up in gaudy uniforms. Not to preside over a sewer! Most had slept little during the night, for the garrison was dreadfully shorthanded thanks to the mass desertions which had followed Binchinminfin’s seizure of power. Those few who had given the demon their loyalty were hard-pressed to guard both treasury and wine cellar, to keep the kitchen staff from jo ining the exodus from the palace, and to mount guard over their new lord and master.
Their unconscious lord and master.
As we know, Ebrell Islanders can drink far more than ordinary mortals. But, after Binchinminfin had possessed Chegory Guy, the demon had nevertheless eventually found the natural limits of his new host’s flesh. For the moment, the demon was at the mercy of any soldier in a mood for assassination. Some of the armed guards, thinking they had made a mistake in their choice of overlord, were actively considering it.
‘Oh, what a bright and beautiful morning!’ said Justina Thrug, stretching prodigiously. She blew out a candle. 'Huff! Out with its light! Good morning, Vazzy. How are you today? What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Oh, you’re no fun! All right then, who’s in charge here?’ 'Don’t worry about that,’ rumbled one of the soldiers. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’
‘Oh, I think we’re all going somewhere,’ said the Empress. ‘Sanitary expeditions are the order of the day. If not, then we will do what we must. I don’t mind. But you have to put up with the results.’
The soldiers were already putting up with more than they cared for, so one of those with more initiative than the ics arranged for small parties to be escorted under armed guard to other parts of the palace.
In due course Justina herself was marched away with Ofivia Qasaba and Artemis Ingalawa. Once free of the Star Chamber, she persuaded her wardens to allow a detour to*hc rooftop swimming pool. This needed little doing. The were in no hurry to get back to the Star Chamber, zed far preferred watching three females disport themselves ¦l the water. The next stop was Justina’s private quarters. These die Empress sorted out fresh clothes for herself and the two Ashdan females. On their return to the Star Chamber they found Chegory Guy sitting up. He looked at them with eyes shot through with a bloody red more violent than that of his skin.
‘Chegory,’ said Olivia timidly.
‘That’s not Chegory,’ said Ingalawa. ‘That’s the demon. Binchinminfin. The usurper.’
‘You’re in there!’ insisted Olivia. ‘Aren’t you, Chegory? You can hear me, my love. Can’t you?’
Chegory Guy was indeed within that red skin. He heard Olivia, but could not move so much as a muscle. He could not speak. In frustrated rage he felt his throat move as the demon Binchinminfin groaned. The accents of the conjuror Odolo came from his throat as Binchinminfin croaked:
‘I’m dying…’
‘My lord Binchinminfin,’ said one of his soldiers. ‘It is not death which ails you. It is but a hangover.’
‘Oh,’ said the Odolo-voiced demon. Weakly. ‘Oh. A hangover. Side effects. Yes, I remember.’ Then Chegory’s eyes closed and his face went slack. The demon was rummaging through Chegory’s mind. Then the face animated itself again and Binchinminfin once more stared out of those eyes. ‘It comes to me,’ said the demon, ‘that there is no cure for this side effect but time. It must be lived through. Is that not so?’
‘Such is the world’s wisdom, my lord,’ said the same soldier who had first addressed him.
The man was doing his best to be politely deferential, and was making an excellent job of it. But the strain he was under was obvious.
Binchinminfin looked around.
‘Varazchavardan,’ he said.
‘It’s no good coming to me,’ said Aquitaine Varazchavardan, who was suffering terribly from last night’s drinking bout and was in no hurry to be again possessed. ‘Don’t you remember? You abused me bitterly before you let me go. I’m in agony even now. Sledgehammers in my head.’ Then the Master of Law pointed at Justina. ‘If you must take someone — take her.’
There stood Justina, freshly washed and freshly dressed, and smiling with amusement at some private, unvoiced joke. Of all the people in the Star Chamber she looked to be the happiest, healthiest and most comfortable. Binchinminfin wasted no time in reflection. Instead, the demon acted — deserting young Chegory in favour of the flesh of the Empress. This time there was no alcohol to soften the psychic shock of transmigration. So, as the demon possessed her, the Empress Justina fell insensible to the carpeting food, spoiling her new clothes entirely.
‘Chegory!’ said Olivia.
‘I’m free!’ said he.
Moments later, they were in each other’s arms.
Justina’s white ape, Vazzy, picked its way across the muck-slush to its mistress. It stood over her slow- breathing body, hooting dismally.
‘Ape and demon are united again,’ said Varazchavardan, raising his voice to the volume of public address as he began to harangue the soldiers. ‘They suit each other well, do they not? This Binchinminfin has found the ape its best companion yet. Look at this place! This is what it means to be ruled by a demon. Is this what you want?’
No soldier claimed it was. So Varazchavardan went on: 'You have a choice. Endure whatever madness the demon dreams of next. Or act — but do it quick, my friends, oh yes. be sure to do it quick. Overthrow the demon. Be done with its rule. Aldarch the Third will reward you as well as any demon could. The demon-thing has gone to ground in the flesh of the Empress. It takes but a moment. Act now. Secure your future. Destroy her.’
’You can’d’ said Chegory, disengaging himself from Ohvia.
‘Can’t?’ said Varazchavardan. ‘What kind of nonsense is that? Of course we can! Indeed, we must!’
'But that’s — that’s the Empress.’
‘Your whore,’ said Varazchavardan. ‘I know. But why worry? You’ve found yourself a new one already.’
Lightly spoke Varazchavardan, but there was death in his voice. Unless he was stopped, he would have the Empress killed in moments. Chegory was a patriot. With a roar of rage he launched himself at the wonderworker. A guard moved to intercept him. But nobody was watching Artemis Ingalawa. Who was already closing with Varazchavardan.
The sorcerer had no time to conjure up defensive flame. He barely had time to fling up a hand in self defence. Ingalawa grabbed the hand by the wrist. There was the crackle of breaking bones. A scream from Varazchavardan. Ingalawa chopped down. She smashed his clavicle with the edge of her hand.
Already guards were storming toward her. She snatched up a stray scimitar and stood at bay. The guards hesitated, for any Ashdan with a weapon is dangerous — and this was a strong, determined, athletic woman.
Then Chegory hit the man who was holding him. Chegory hit hard, hit low, and left his warden disabled by pain. Then the Ebrell Islander scooped up the insensible body of the Empress Justina and was off. Olivia raced after him. Ingalawa slashed at the nearest guard, opening his arm to the bone. Then followed. As did the albinotic ape Vazzy, screaming with rage and excitement as it loped through the corridors of the pink palace.
They were doomed, of course.
