before he said:
‘The mob ventured all. The Crab did nothing, beyond lighting the m inor bonfire to which you have alluded.’ More smoke.
More silence.
Then:
‘Some time ago,’ said Ek, ‘I discussed our predicament with certain wonder-workers. Some of these I see before me now. The Crab we fear. Yes. But maintaining power in the face of a wrathful Crab is possible. Quarantine is the answer. That was what I thought at the time. No person was brave enough to act on such suggestion.’
‘As I recall,’ ventured one wonder-worker, ‘no actual-’ ‘Recall not!’ said Ek, his voice a whip. ‘Rather, obey. It is not for me to command. I am High Priest, as you know. I am consecrated to another purpose. It is not proper for me to command, nor is it strictly lawful. But things have reached the stage where to do otherwise would be lunatic. Does anyone here dispute it?’
None did.
Thus did Nadalastabstala Banraithanchumun Ek make himself de facto wazir of Injiltaprajura, declaring that city and the island of Untunchilamon to be again a part of the Izdimir Empire, and to be under the rule of Aldarch Three.
Ek demanded oaths of loyalty from the wonderworkers, and received such oaths. Those soldiers who could be located were similarly placed under oath; and a militia was raised to supplement the soldiery.
Ek lectured these combined forces: sorcerers, soldiers and militiamen.
‘We have nothing to fear but fear itself,’ said Ek.
‘What about the Thrug?’ said a soldier.
‘Justina is missing,’ said Ek. ‘Missing, believed dead.’ ‘Her sister, then. Theodora.’
‘Missing, believed to be at sea.’
‘And Lonstantine Thrug?’
‘The Dromdanjerie has been burnt out,’ said Ek. ‘Lonstantine is missing, another Thrug believed dead. If he lives, I fear him not. I’ve nothing to fear from a patent lunatic.’
‘Then… what about… what about the Crab?’
‘The Crab keeps to Jod,’ said Ek. ‘By its own choice.
Contrary to expectation, it failed to exercise its authority during the riot. Its sole act was to burn the harbour bridge. It chose isolation. We need but enforce that isolation to ensure our own security.’
Steps to do just that were soon underway. Patrols were instituted. Guards were placed on all boats. Canoes went into the rainswept Laitemata with bowmen aboard. Parties were landed on Scimitar to deny approach to Jod from that direction. Now nobody could warn, petition, counsel or plead with the Crab; and thus its impotence was assured.
Meantime, Justina and Olivia were still navigating through the depths Downstairs. An amazing feat of courageous endurance, this, since the rectifier was so great in mass and the women were but two in number. But Justina was daughter of a Yudonic Knight and Olivia Qasaba was of Ashdan stock; and both were conscious of their respective geneses and the burdens of pride which were a part of their cultural inheritance.
Thanks to strength, passion, and the accidental discovery of a Lift (which saw them rise a full four hundred levels in fewer than five heartbeats) the two sweating females were at last able to manoeuvre the organic rectifier into the streets of Injiltaprajura, streets alive with pulse-beats of the drums of the drummers.
By this time, the day of their flight had given way to night, and night in turn to day.
And all this time, Ivan Pokrov and poor Chegory Guy had been left alone with the therapist, which had indulged itself in a most intimidating line in conversation. Their sole hope had been that the organic rectifier would function as advertised, that it would turn Crab to human, that a grateful Crab would agree to demolish the therapist, and that Justina would soon return with the Crab to save the therapist’s victims from being demolished themselves.
But hopes of such swift rescue were doomed to be disappointed.
When Justina Thrug and Olivia Qasaba at last emerged into the streets of Injiltaprajura, they were surprised to find it raining heavily, disturbed by the foul reek of burnt-out houses which yet hung so heavily in the air, and shocked by the sight of incinerated buildings.
They came out into the daylight by means of a cavelike opening in a sheer bank at the northern boundary of the slumlands of Lubos. This was an area of tactical concern to Master Ek since it was a much-populated area close to the shores of the Laitemata. Therefore it was much patrolled by soldiers intent on maintaining the quarantine of the island of Jod; and it is scarcely surprising that the two females were shortly discovered.
Given the fact that Justina and Olivia had exhausted themselves in bringing the organic rectifier to the surface, it is similarly unsurprising that they put up no effective resistance whatsoever.
Which explains why, as a sly and self-delighting therapist lectured Ivan Pokrov and Chegory Guy on the pain potential of the anus, Justina Thrug was negotiating (or trying to negotiate) with the High Priest of Zoz the Ancestral.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Young Olivia Qasaba was present at the interview between Justina Thrug and Nadalastabstala Banraithanchumun Ek; an interview, as it happens, which was singularly brief. The only notable point is a question asked by the redoubtable Ek.
‘What is this?’ said Master Ek, pointing at the organic rectifier.
‘A skavamareen,’ said Justina firmly.
‘And what, pray tell, is a skavamareen?’
‘A musical instrument. The Hermit Crab bade us fetch it.’
‘This?’ said Ek. ‘This? A musical instrument? Are we to presume that our beloved Empress has become a drummer?’
‘The thing is not a drum, whatever it is,’ said Justina, choosing to take Ek’s words at face value. ‘But the Crab declares it to be a musical instrument of some description. My wisdom is not equal to a dispute with a Crab.’
‘Or with a cockroach, one suspects,’ said Ek dryly.
He stubbed out a cigarette on the ‘skavamareen’ then ordered that this mysterious device be taken to the Temple of Torture, a place which offered a far greater degree of physical security than the comparatively flimsy Temple of Zoz the Ancestral. Ek intended to inspect this ‘skavamareen’ at his leisure to see if he could figure out how to make it work. For he strongly suspected that this was the organic rectifier which had been mentioned by the Injiltaprajuradariski, several tantalizing fragments of which were now in his possession.
‘As for you,’ said Nadalastabstala Banraithanchumun Ek, addressing the Empress Justina, ‘I will sacrifice you to Zoz the Ancestral. The Festival of Light approaches and we still lack a sacrifice. A volunteer is better, but you’ll do.’
‘You can’t sacrifice me!’ said Justina in outrage. ‘It wouldn’t be legal.’
‘It’ll be legal enough by the time I’ve finished with you,’ said Ek. ‘We’ll give it a trial to tidy up the legalisms.’
Ek liked trials. He liked to see people squirm. Besides, he wanted to preserve the life of the Thrug. For a few days, at least. For if he could not divine the secrets of the ‘skavamareen’ through his own efforts then he would have to torture the Thrug or her companion to remedy this deficiency in his education.
‘What about me?’ said Olivia.
‘We’ll put you on trial as well.’
‘Isn’t there… isn’t there anything else I could do?’ said Olivia.
And the young Ashdan lass tilted her head slightly to one side, softened the outlines of her body, moulded her lips into a banana-tasting pout, and breathed more heavily than before.
All this to some effect.
For Ek hesitated.
He was tempted.
