But I will say this:

I was on Untunchilamon when the great troubles beset Justina Thrug. I myself have stood upon the balcony of the pink palace atop Pokra Ridge; I myself have looked down Lak Street to the waters of the Laitemata, and across those waters to the island of Jod where the white marble of the Analytical Institute stands like a block of chalk riding atop a bank of congealed blood.

And I have been to those places elsewhere mentioned in this history.

I myself have been to Manamalargo; and have ventured up the River Ka to the city of Bolfrigalaskaptiko. In that city, I myself have sat within a tent of mosquito netting, enjoying a meal of roast crocodile meat while watching a professional child beater clean the blood from his whips. In that same city, I have enjoyed the delights of non-insertive ecstasy in the House Without Fleas.

And, more to the point, I have interviewed many inhabitants of Bolfrigalaskaptiko. Their testimony justifies and supports the claim made in the first chapter of this history:

That Jean Froissart, a man of 32 who was much worried about his heart, left Bolfrigalaskaptiko in the company of Manthandros Trasilika.

The fat and fleshy Manthandros Trasilika planned to sail to Untunchilamon, to land at Injiltaprajura, to declare himself the rightful wazir of the place, to denounce Justina Thrug as a witch, and to order her immediate execution.

But, as stated at the end of the first chapter, the first trouble which would befall Justina Thrug would not come from Manthandros Trasilika but from the Inland Revenue Department; and nothing written above should be taken as altering or modifying that fact.

CHAPTER THREE

The head of the Inland Revenue was Dui Tin Char, a man of much mana and influence. He pretended loyalty to the Family Thrug, but his true loyalties were actually quite elsewhere.

Dui Tin Char was equipped by nature and breeding to take his place in the court of Aldarch the Third, the dreaded Mutilator of Yestron. But it was Tin Char’s misfortune to dwell far from Al’three’s sphere of influence. For, as our history opens, Aldarch the Third was busy laying waste to the continent of Yestron; whereas Tin Char was marooned upon Untunchilamon, that equatorial island which lies half an ocean away from Yestron.

Untunchilamon.

Island of blood!

Island of But we have been through all that. So, enough of the atmospherics. It is time for some solid facts and figures, some honest statistics, and as many of them as possible.

Well then:

Untunchilamon is an equatorial island which lay (and lies still) midocean between the continents of Argan and Yestron. Ships approach from the north, enter Untun-chilamon’s circumferential lagoon by the Galley Gate, then navigate through a maze of coral to the Laitemata Harbour at the island’s southern tip.

On the Laitemata lies Injiltaprajura, Untunchilamon’s sole city, a metropolis of some 30,000 souls. Here there is life; and water; and greenery; and mosquitoes by the millions; and caterpillars with stinging legs which sometimes drop from the trees to agonize the necks of the unwary. The rest of Untunchilamon is a wasteland desert known as Zolabrik.

To Injiltaprajura, then, come the ships; and they can only approach that city as described above because the shallows of the Green Sea lie to the south. Canoes can travel the Green Sea, and often do; but a ship would find no water deep enough to permit it a safe passage.

With that clearly stated (your encyclopedia will doubtless supplement this account should you wish to know more) let us return to the matter of Dui Tin Char, head of the Inland Revenue, and his relationship with the Family Thrug.

The Family Thrug had ruled Untunchilamon for seven years. Their rule had begun when civil war broke out in the Izdimir Empire, for Lonstantine Thrug seized his opportunity, overthrew the local governor and installed himself as emperor of this isolated island. In due course, the unfortunate Lonstantine became incapable of discharging the responsibilities of government, and was thereafter succeeded by Justina, the elder of his twin daughters.

While the outcome of Yestron’s civil war remained uncertain, none disputed the right of the Family Thrug to rule. But in the seventh year of Talonsklavara (this being the name which dignified the protracted internecine conflicts of the Izdimir Empire), it became increasingly apparent that Aldarch III was likely to triumph. A coup was then launched against Justina by her Master of Law, the albinotic sorcerer Aquitaine Varazchavardan, who had no wish for personal power but who did wish to demonstrate his loyalty to Aldarch Three.

Great was the peril which the Empress Justina then endured, but she survived-thanks to the loyalty of many of her subjects and the intervention of the Hermit Crab.

The Hermit Crab, a being with powers at least equal to those of any wizard or sorcerer, dwelt on a small island in the harbour of Untunchilamon’s capital city.

The Crab took exception to the violent political disputes which had disturbed the peace of its domicile; to restore the peace, the Crab commanded Justina and Varazcha-vardan to declare a truce and resolve their differences.

This they did.

Had they disobeyed, they would have been turned inside out by a wrathful Crab; therefore the matter of their compliance is scarcely a mystery. Furthermore, the same threat of gross physical disconcertment similarly compelled the compliance of all others on Untunchilamon, at least for the moment; some who thought the Crab could read minds (it could not) almost went mad as they endeavoured to suppress their inner yearnings for the end of the regime of Thrug and the imposition of the rule of Aldarch Three.

However, while peace again prevailed for the moment, the crisis had served to teach Justina a salutary lesson; which was, that her power was almost at an end, and that she would most surely die if she tarried on the island for any longer than was absolutely necessary.

At that time, Untunchilamon lay in the doldrums; for the season of Fistavlir was upon the island, and that season, also known as the Long Dry, is a time when both wind and rain are denied to this equatorial region. Lack of wind means lack of shipping, but for those canoes of the Ngati Moana which travel even during Fistavlir, riding the Coral Current which flows through the shallow and treacherous waters of the Green Sea.

Justina considered making her escape in such a canoe, drifting with the currents through those shallow southern waters which are interdicted to ships of any size and substance. But the dangers of such a voyage were great; the Ngati Moana might well be reluctant to carry her, lest long-term repercussions deny them their favourite trading routes; and such an escape would have been selfish.

Selfish?

Yes.

For a canoe could carry no more than a few passengers, whereas a great number of people stood in danger thanks to their association with Justina — her loyal advisers; her friends; her lovers (a category most definitely plural); her ex-lovers (a body of athletes who could certainly not have been accommodated in but a single canoe); certain of her servants; various Ashdans and Ebrell Islanders; and Aquitaine Varazchavardan himself, now tainted by the protestations of loyalty which the Crab had forced him to make to Justina.

When Justina had made a full list of all those who stood in danger, she concluded that nothing would serve but for her to seize a bare minimum of a dozen ships to carry the endangered ones to foreign shores.

Two problems then confronted her.

First, there were not a dozen ships in the Laitemata Harbour. There were but three, all three imprisoned by the absence of wind. Never mind. The end of Fistavlir would bring the winds, and the winds would bring the Trade Fleet; if Justina had but patience, in time there would be a dozen ships in her net.

However, the second problem was more serious, and was this: when the time came to seize these ships, would her soldiers be for her or against her? Most of Justina’s soldiers were not of her own people, the children of Wen Endex; instead, they were grey-skinned Janjuladoola warriors who owed her little love and less loyalty.

The solution?

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