What had roused this old and arthritic man to such a passion? Why, it was the manuscript which he had discussed with Nixorjapretzel Rat. But why should this in itself prove a source of such stimulation? Because of what was written on one fragment of that manuscript, a short and incomplete fragment which Ek had not shown to Rat.
Now that Rat had gone, Nadalastabstala Banraithan-chumun Ek once again pulled that secret fragment of ricepaper from his tobacco pouch. He unfolded it slowly, for his arthritic fingers felt as if splinters of bone were floating loose in the joints, and this condition did not encourage speed.
Ek read it greedily for the thousandth time, his eyes of green-flecked orange deciphering the miniscule script with ease. Ek had once been a translator, and his decreptitude had as yet left him with his mastery of a dozen languages still intact. As a matter of strategy, he kept this mastery secret, which encouraged the unwary to betray themselves in his hearing as they discoursed in foreign tongues; one such language was Slandolin, which Ek could read with ease, though he pretended complete ignorance of this argot.
This was what was written on that piece of paper: *… to become immortal. Immortality is easily achieved if one has possession of an organic rectifier. On Untunchilamon…’
On Untunchilamon what?
Once again, Master Ek cursed the fact that his precious fragment ended where it did. Though Ek was old and wise, his frustration was scarcely different from that experienced by an eager adolescent who has bought the first book of one of those dreadful gladiator yarns peddled by the shameless Chulman Puro.
Our adolescent has reached the final page of this yarn, Vorn the Gladiator is in a dungeon which is lit only by the phosphorescence from the fifty rotting corpses which share his imprisonment. Gouts of dirty water are flooding into this oubliette from a breach in the wall. Vorn is chained to the floor with unbreakable shackles. Already the water has reached his mouth, and And here the story ends, with Chulman Puro grinning like a pirate, for he knows his victims have no alternative but to pay out good gold for the continuation of the story, or suffer the pangs of unsatiated curiosity ever afterwards.
Master Ek, not having any access to the continuation of the text, suffered absolute agonies of curiosity. What did the missing portion of the MS say? That Untunchilamon possessed one of these mysterious organic rectifiers? Or that it lacked such an arcanum?
As a matter of urgency, Master Ek intended to find out.
For Ek was staring mortality in the face.
And Ek did not wish to die.
Death is the common fate of all men. The fisherman Threp Sodakik lies dead in the lagoon with starfish browsing upon the bloody rags of his corpse. The market gardener Pa Po Pep looks at the emblem of death which adorns his shaft, then rubs it first with ice and then with fertilizer, but rightly suspects that neither of these desperate experiments will save him from ultimate extinction. Ox No Zan, moaning as he rubs his aching jaw, knows he will die of pain unless he goes to the dentist, but may quite possibly expire from sheer terror if he actually submits himself to Doctor Death’s probes and pincers.
Death is everywhere; and inevitable; and inescapable.
Or so it had always seemed to Master Ek.
But now, in a passion of hope, he imagined himself uncovering an ‘organic rectifier’, whatever that might be, and using that to make himself immortal.
From the above, it will be seen that Master Ek had seriously misled young Rat. Ek had no need of any mysterious manuscript to tell him who the traitors were; he had already drawn up a comprehensive schedule of tortures and executions which would commence as soon as the Thrug was overthrown. What interested him, what excited him to the point of frenzy, was the question of immortality.
And here the historian must once again call the reader’s attention to the proposition which introduced this chapter: namely, that there did not exist a clear-cut division between ‘Justina Thrug and her allies’ and ‘Justina’s enemies’. In the case of Nadalastabstala Banraithanchumun Ek, we have a man divided even within his own mind. On the one hand, he wished to destroy the Thrug because he hated her, and because Aldarch the Third would look favourably on such destruction. On the other hand, the temptations of immortality were such that, if this ‘organic rectifier’ came into his hands, he might wish to keep it from being confiscated by Aldarch the Third. And it was possible, just possible, that such defiance of the Mutilator of Yestron might ultimately force Master Ek into an alliance with the Empress Justina.
CHAPTER SEVEN
What lures the trade fleet to Untunchilamon? What calls the ships across the waters of Moana? What makes them dare the dangers of the Kraken Deep and the coral teeth of Untunchilamon’s lagoons? What draws mariners to this sweating hell of rapturous mosquitoes, rabid vampire rats and magnanimous sharks?
Why, in fact, would anyone come to such a place?
Let us look at some people and their motives.
The red-skinned Chegory Guy, lover of Olivia Qasaba and confidant of the Crab, came to Untunchilamon because he wished to escape from his mother’s womb, and this necessitated a head-first dive from the clutching humidity of the uterus into the deliriums of a heatwave in Injiltaprajura. In other words, he was born there, and had no choice about the matter.
Olivia Qasaba, she of the intimate giggle, the fearless thighs, came to Untunchilamon because her father brought her there from Ashmolea; and she was too young at the time to protest.
The Crab came there But we will hear later how the Crab reached Untunchilamon, and with the price of fooskin being what it is, your historian cannot afford to tell the story twice.
The corpse-master Uckermark, he of the many scars and the intricate tattoos, came to the island with a pirate band which tried to loot Injiltaprajura’s treasury, and achieved but partial success. His friend Log Jaris arrived for identical reasons, and chose not to leave after being unfortunately transmogrified into a bullman.
The conjuror Odolo, dexterous prestigitator and public entertainer, came to Untunchilamon (according to his bank manager) so he could be the bane of honest citizens. Or, to go by his own account But enough of this!
We have established what needed to be established; which is, that nobody came to Untunchilamon for the sake of pleasure. Rather, needs, greeds, fears and lusts of all descriptions drove them to that place.
As for the ships of the trade fleet, why, they chiefly came to purchase dikle (a thixotropic fluid widely used as a lubricant) and shlug (a grey grease most excellent for preserving metals). Both dikle and shlug flow (intermittently) from the mysterious wealth fountains of a small island in the harbour of Injiltaprajura, Untunchilamon’s capital. Fountains elsewhere located provide Injiltaprajura with the bounteous supply of fresh water which allows the city’s market gardens to be irrigated to such excellent effect.
The journey the trade fleet makes is arduous and hazardous in the extreme. Hence Master Ek was not the only one staring mortality in the face, for Manthandros Trasilika and Jean Froissart had their own worries on that score. The sea voyage from Yestron to Untunchilamon had its fair share of lethal dangers, including storms, those rare but hideously powerful monsters known as krakens, and the coral shadows of the lagoon passage from the north of Untunchilamon to Injiltaprajura itself. But what perturbed Trasilika and Froissart was not so much the voyage (the dangers of which have greatly been exaggerated by most travellers) as the reception they would receive on arrival.
They were not worried about the drumming cult, for news of this novelty had yet to escape Untunchilamon. Instead, they worried about the reception they might receive from the island’s politicians.
Manthandros Trasilika was coming to Injiltaprajura to take over Untunchilamon in the name of Aldarch the Third, and feared the task might prove difficult. Justina Thrug? She was only a woman, so Trasilika had left her out of his calculations. Rather, he worried about the many enemies of Aldarch Three who had fled to Untunchilamon during the years of Talonsklavara. He feared such opponents of the Mutilator might choose to dabble in assassination; as he loved to eat, he particularly feared poison. Furthermore, while Trasilika’s documentation was in good order, there was always a chance that some diehard Janjuladoola bureaucrats on Untunchilamon would not accept him as their new governor.
Indeed, Trasilika was a most unlikely choice for such an important and sensitive post. When one considers his
