for Master Ek had not yet seen fit to remove him from the post of Governor. Indeed, why should Ek interfere? The management of a squabbling brood of prisoners meant nothing to him; and, if Drumel was ultimately to be judged as a traitor, there would be plenty enough time later for his arrest, trial and execution.
Despite his many worries, Bro Drumel laughed out loud when Manthandros Trasilika declared himself warrior. That disconcerted Jean Froissart more than anything else which had happened to date.
‘So,’ said Drumel, when he had recovered himself. ‘You are wazir, are you? What next, then? Mutilator of Yestron?’
‘Humour ill becomes either you or the occasion,’ said Trasilika, who was very close to losing his temper. ‘Aldarch the Third has pulled fingernails for less.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Bro Drumel, sobering somewhat. ‘But we have killed one Manthandros Trasilika already, and one Jean Froissart. If there is a penalty for killing members of such breeds, then we are damned already. And if we kill them not — why, then our island risks overpopulation. For-’
That did it.
Manthandros Trasilika lost his temper.
An impressive sight he made in his rage; and many were the spectres of doom which he invoked as he cursed Bro Drumel. All to virtually nil effect. For Drumel was convinced that this Trasilika was as much of an imposter as the first.
‘Very well,’ said Uckermark, once Trasilika had said his piece. ‘Now we know who he is, or who he pretends to be. Where can we stash him for the moment?’
‘It’ll have to be in my personal quarters,’ said Bro Drumel. ‘Unless you want him clamped in fetters below.’
Uckermark thought about it.
‘Your quarters,’ said he at last. ‘At least for the moment.’
Bro Drumel rang for guards and had the two children of Wen Endex taken away.
‘Well,’ said Drumel, when that had been done. ‘What do you want to do with them? Sell them to Master Ek as sacrifices? Or what?’
‘I thought we could use them,’ said Uckermark.
‘Use them! They’re patent frauds.’
‘That may be so,’ said Uckermark. ‘But let’s see what Dardanalti has to say before we write them off entirely.’ After some persuading, Bro Drumel sent word to the pink palace: a message to tell Dardanalti he was wanted in Moremo. Then, Uckermark joined the new Manthandros Trasilika and the new Jean Froissart in Drumel’s quarters.
Uckermark, a veteran of many long sea journeys himself, had the wit to have fresh food served to those quarters simultaneously with his own arrival, a move calculated to soften the temper of the obstreperous Trasilika.
‘Well,’ said Trasilika, when Uckermark entered his presence, ‘what now?’
‘We wait,’ said Uckermark.
‘For what?’
‘I’ve sent for someone.’
‘Who?’
Uckermark merely smiled.
‘Are you a torturer?’ said Froissart, studying Uckermark’s scars and tattoos.
‘I’ve introduced myself already,’ said Uckermark. ‘I’m a lawyer. Legal counsel for the Cult of the Holy Cockroach. Come. Will you not eat?’
Uckermark’s guests succumbed to temptation and proceeded to glut themselves. After so many days of shipboard privation, a banana itself was an instrument of delight. Thus it happened that both Froissart and Trasilika were in a much better temper when Dardanalti arrived.
‘This,’ said Uckermark, ‘is a man well worth talking to.’
‘You do the talking,’ said Trasilika to Froissart. ‘I’ve no patience for argument.’
As has been earlier remarked, Dardanalti was a dapper individual remarkable for looking crisp and fresh at all times, a truly remarkable achievement in the wilting climate of Untunchilamon. Dardanalti’s appearance made Trasilika acutely conscious of his own overfleshed, sweat-saturated body; and of his fatigue, which owed as much to unacknowledged fear as it did to the long trek underground.
Froissart resented Trasilika’s abandonment of responsibility; and, opening the negotiations with less formality than politeness strictly required, said (in Toxteth):
‘Hi.’
‘Are you addressing my presence?’ said Dardanalti.
To understand the scorn of these words, you must understand that they were phrased in Janjuladoola; and, furthermore, that Dardanalti took advantage of the social nuances of that tongue by adopting the forms that one of highest class or caste uses when speaking to an underman.
‘We crave acknowledgement,’ said Froissart, switching to Janjuladoola.
‘Speak,’ said Dardanalti. ‘Tell me your excuses.’
This formal phrase, often heard in the courts of Obooloo, invites a guilty person to confess all.
‘We have no excuses to make,’ said Froissart, thus declaring his conscience to be clear. ‘We come to these shores on legitimate business. Aldarch the Third has charged us with the responsibility of proclaiming his rule in Injiltaprajura.’
‘Your pretensions ill become you,’ said Dardanalti. ‘We have executed one false wazir and priest already. The destruction of another such pair will be but the work of a moment.’
‘We… we are not… we… I’m telling you the truth,’ said Froissart. ‘Aldarch Three really did make us wazir and priest. We have, we have warrants.’
‘Such had the last false wazir,’ said Dardanalti. ‘We of Injiltaprajura are not strangers to the arts of forgery. No piece of parchment can give a fraud the rule of Untunchilamon, for we trust not to parchment alone. Rather, we rely on logic, precedent and interrogation.’ ‘Interrogate, then!’ said Manthandros Trasilika, unable to restrain himself any longer. ‘We’ve a shipload of sailors who will swear to the truth of our tale.’
‘Once Master Ek has disembowelled a couple, the rest may begin to sing a different story,’ said Dardanalti. ‘Your claims are ridiculous. Aldarch Three would never make a wazir of a child of Wen Endex. He hates all but those of the Skin.’
‘You don’t understand,’ said Froissart.
‘What did you say?’ said Dardanalti.
There was death in his voice. He was of Janjuladoola race: and no child of Wen Endex may safely insult one of such genesis.
‘My lord,’ said Froissart, realizing his error. ‘The ancestors of my ancestors were slaves of your forebears, and I, a slave, grovel at your feet in suppliant apology.’ ‘Truly your tongue is as honey,’ said Dardanalti. ‘But, were I Nadalastabstala Banraithanchumun Ek, you would no longer have a tongue at all.’
‘I spoke in haste,’ said Froissart.
‘But,’ said Dardanalti, ‘perhaps in truth. It would seem you claim for me a lack of comprehension. What, pray tell, is the aspect of reality which escapes my grasp?’
‘My lord of lords,’ said Froissart, ‘I meant merely-’
‘Explain,’ said Dardanalti, chopping abruptly from Janjuladoola to Toxteth.
Froissart followed the implications of the language shift. Dardanalti was done with playing at being a Janjuladoola aristocrat in the presence of his racial inferiors. Now he wanted to get down to business.
‘Manpower,’ said Froissart, speaking with greater confidence as the empowering simplicities of Toxteth came to his assistance. ‘Al’three has lately been seeking outside the ranks of the Janjuladoola for officers of all descriptions. Talonsklavara has seen such a great slaughter among those of the Skin that other breeds must be employed.’
‘As slaves,’ said Dardanalti.
‘Talent has no immunity to a scimitar’s blade,’ said Froissart. ‘Those of the Skin can no longer supply an entire empire’s need for talent. Hence Al’three has turned elsewhere. Not for help with the governance of Ang, of course; but for the rule of cities such as Bolfrigalaskaptiko, and the rule of outlands such as Untunchilamon.’
