The Empress snorted.
‘You’re damned already if that’s all it takes for damnation,’ said she. ‘Your close connection with me is no secret. Come! You helped Varazchavardan when he sought to coup against me. If I remember correctly, your help was so strenuous I had need to hit you with my handbag.’
‘Yes,’ said Drumel, remembering the shattering impact of that blow.
‘So this blackmailing is no more than a nonsense,’ said Justina briskly. ‘But I would dearly like to catch the blackmailer, for capture might give us a clue to the source of the Injiltaprajuradariski, The Secret History of Injiltaprajura. You know it, I take it.’
‘Well…’
‘You must have heard rumours,’ said Justina.
‘A few,’ said Bro Drumel cautiously.
‘Come, let’s not be so close-mouthed,’ said Justina. ‘It’s no secret. Untunchilamon’s a place too small for that. Someone has written a Secret History. We know not who. What we do know is that pieces of it are scattered all over Injiltaprajura. The Cabal House had a piece.’
‘How do you know that?’ said Bro Drumel.
‘The knowledge came to me by powers which are mine to possess but not to discuss,’ said Justina.
Of course, she knew because a thief in her pay had stolen the purple-scripted document in question, thieving it from the Cabal House under the noses of the resident wonder-workers.
‘Also,’ said Idaho, ‘Masker Ek has a piece of that document.’
‘You read his mind also?’ said Drumel to Justina.
‘I have my methods,’ said Justina severely.
She had recently debriefed young Nixorjapretzel Rat, her liaison officer, and it was in the course of this debriefing that she had learnt something of Master Ek’s interest in the Secret History.
‘So you see our interest,’ said Idaho. ‘We must find this Secret History.’
‘Actually, I don’t,’ said Drumel, now puzzled. ‘You tell me no document matters since nothing is secret. If nothing is secret, what matters this history? First you tell me not to worry about it, that blackmailing makes things no worse. Then you say we have to find the blackmailer.’
Justina Thrug and Juliet Idaho glanced at each other.
‘Either you trust me or you don’t,’ said Bro Drumel.
‘We don’t,’ said Idaho.
‘But we could,’ said Justina. ‘Oaths solemn enough might bind you.’
Bro Drumel realized he had to make a choice. Swear binding oaths of loyalty to the Empress and throw in his lot with hers. Or trust to the justice of the Izdimir Empire.
Drumel had no faith in justice.
Justina was not of the Janjuladoola race. She was a hated foreigner from Wen Endex. But seven years of close association with the family Thrug had taught Bro Drumel that the word of a Thrug could be trusted. If he made a common cause with Justina, the alliance would last till the point of death; the Empress would not betray him.
‘I will swear myself to your service,’ said he.
Then did, a process which took some time, as no solemn oath can be sworn in Janjuladoola without the expenditure of at least a thousand words.
Once Bro Drumel had pledged his fealty to the Thrug, Justina revealed the truth.
‘There is more to this Secret History than a recital of common fact,’ said she.
‘Much more,’ said Juliet Idaho.
‘Julie,’ said Justina, again laying her hand on Idaho’s wrist. ‘This is my story.’
‘My lady,’ said Idaho, acknowledging the rebuke.
And Justina continued:
‘The Secret History also speaks of something truly exceptional. An immortality machine. An organic rectifier, so called. We have seen fragments which tell us something of this organic rectifier. That it exists. That it can grant humans the gift of immortal life. That it can change female form to male. Or vice versa. That it could make a human of a Crab.’
Justina paused.
‘And… and where is this machine?’ said Bro Drumel. ‘It must be Downstairs, surely.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Justina. ‘But where are we to look? And what would we be looking for? That we know not. We suspect that the Secret History has much, much more to say about this organic rectifier. What it looks like, where it hides, how to use it. We know your blackmailer came into possession of a fragment of the Secret History. The blackmailer may have the whole. So let us catch the blackmailer.’
‘You… you say the organic rectifier could change Crab to human,’ said Bro Drumel. ‘Is this something the Crab would desire?’
‘It is,’ said Justina. ‘I have discussed it with the Crab’s ambassadors.’
She had no need to specify the names of those ambassadors, for all Injiltaprajura knew the Crab’s official representatives to be Chegory Guy and Olivia Qasaba.
‘And?’ said Drumel.
‘And the Crab would welcome a human form,’ said Justina. ‘If we provide it with such, it guarantees the safety of Injiltaprajura for ever.’
‘You mean it won’t if we don’t?’ said Drumel.
‘It is no secret that the Crab is too inhuman to demonstrate a sustained interest in human politics,’ said Justina. ‘It rules Injiltaprajura now, but it does so at a whim. It could lose interest in our island’s fate as early as tomorrow.’
Bro Drumel could not help himself. He shuddered.
‘So,’ continued Justina briskly, ‘we have no time to lose. We must find the blackmailer, locate the Secret History, discover the truth about the organic rectifier, find that device if it is anywhere within finding range, take it to the Crab and win our safety.’
‘After using it ourselves,’ said Juliet Idaho.
‘For what?’ said Bro Drumel. ‘To become Crab ourselves?’
‘No,’ said Idaho. ‘To become immortal. Weren’t you listening?’
‘It… it’s rather a lot to take in at once. Have I got this right? You say — what? That Ek has some of this Secret History?’
‘Yes,’said Justina.
‘And the Cabal House?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then… do they know of this… this organic contraption?’
‘The Cabal House has most definitely seen written mention of the organic rectifier,’ said Justina. ‘They may know more of it than we do. Our spies are trying to find out. As for Master Ek, he has a part of the Injiltaprajuradariski in his possession, and may know more than we would like him to know.’
‘So,’ said Idaho. ‘Enough blathering. Let’s see how your blackmailer plans to get money off you.’
The three then studied the blackmailer’s written demands.
‘As you see,’ said Drumel, ‘my blackmailer says I must pay a thousand dragons into this numbered account at theN’barta.’
‘N’barta?’ said Juliet Idaho.
‘The Narapatorpabarta Bank,’ said the Empress Justina.
‘Indeed, my lady,’ said Bro Drumel. ‘The same.’
‘And what was that other thing you called it?’ said Idaho.
‘The N’barta,’ said the Empress patiently.
Idaho’s ignorance came as no surprise to the well-fleshed Justina. For a start, Idaho was a xenophobe who entered as little as possible into the life of Injiltaprajura. The Janjuladoola people were not the only ones capable of entertaining violent prejudices; and Idaho was as much a racist as the most bigoted son of Obooloo. Furthermore, Juliet Idaho was a stereotypical Yudonic Knight: which meant, amongst other things, that he was a financial simpleton. He would have nothing to do with banks, bank accounts, stockbrokers, shares, bonds, unit trusts or the
