‘I really don’t see why it’s so very very important for you to kill people,’ said Harold.
‘You wouldn’t,’ said Idaho. ‘You’re not a man.’
Then he watched critically as his wife shaved her heavy jowels. As Juliet Idaho had no facial hair, he never had to go through this routine himself. He began doing the isometric exercises which helped maintain his strength, that strength being considerable for all that his body was short on muscle bulk.
Juliet Idaho was a hard man, his muscles weapons of combat. In contrast, Harold’s flesh was soft and sloppy, her flesh dedicated to luxurious pleasures. That morning, Idaho wished he could stay and enjoy the delights of love with his lady, but his duty commanded him to the pink palace. So, after a brief breakfast of raw bananas, Idaho left his new mansion and started up Lak Street toward Pokra Ridge.
The streets were outwardly quiet. But then, why should they not be? Though Injiltaprajura was technically in a state of anarchy, for the most part it was outwardly calm. There were many reasons for this. One was that nobody wished to call attention to themselves by a truly spectacular act of individual disobedience. For, whether Manthandros Trasilika was a true wazir or a false wazir, all the city was convinced that Aldarch Three had triumphed in Talonsklavara, and that his wrath would eventually fall on anyone notorious for civic indiscipline,
So outbreaks of looting and such would have to wait until another anonymous mob was formed. Mob formation might take a while. The most accomplished rabble rousers had escaped to sea after the dragon riots which had seen a third of Injiltaprajura burnt to the ground. With them had gone the wealth of the imperial treasury. Thus the main temptation to violence had been removed from Untunchilamon, and the greatest revolutionary leaders had fled with their ill-gotten gains.
Hence peace of a sort prevailed, and Juliet Idaho met with no challenge to his skin or his pocket as he sweated up Lak Street toward the pink palace. In that palace, the Empress Justina was in conference with Manthandros Trasilika and Jean Froissart. The wazir and his priest, unaware of the rapid approach of a Y udonic Knight who meant to kill them as soon as he could, were discussing the proposed trial by ordeal and the banquet at which it would take place.
‘Since my confirmation as wazir is only provisional,’ said Trasilika, ‘Ek can revoke it at any time.’
‘And will, if we don’t satisfy him,’ said Froissart.
‘So we need this trial by ordeal,’ said Trasilika. ‘And fast.’
‘This is for your benefit as much as for ours,’ said Froissart.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Justina. ‘I confirm all our arrangements. Everything will fall out just as you were told it would.’
‘Now,’ said Trasilika, ‘we come to the matter of the division of the spoils.’
‘The spoils?’ said Justina.
‘Yes,’ said Froissart. ‘We took the job of running Untunchilamon because Al’three promised to reward us richly.’
‘Then reward you he will,’ said Justina soothingly.
‘No!’ said Trasilika. ‘Once he finds out we’ve pardoned you, he’ll chop off our heads!’
And he began to explain.
Justina listed to the explanation, but only to flatter her guests. She knew men like explaining things to women, so, while she had already been thoroughly briefed by Dardanalti and Uckermark, she pretended to that ignorance which so many men think feminine. As Justina thought she already knew it all, she swallowed one great falsehood without noticing.
This was the explanation:
Manthandros Trasilika and Jean Froissart were in a pretty pickle. They were the genuine appointees of Aldarch the Third, who had truly commanded them to take command of Untunchilamon and execute Justina Thrug.
Unfortunately, without help from the Thrug, they would not be able to prove themselves true. They would be executed by a disbelieving High Priest, or would be torn apart by a sceptical mob, or assassinated by some fanatic of Janjuladoola race. So they had to pardon the Thrug to secure her cooperation. However, by pardoning the Thrug, Trasilika and Froissart were being untrue to Aldarch the Third. And the Mutilator of Yestron, who was not given to listening to reason, would surely order their execution once he learnt of this perfidy.
In other words, their efforts to prove themselves true necessarily meant they were now false.
‘So,’ concluded Trasilika, after explaining this, ‘we want passage on your flying ship once it’s operational. And we want a cut of whatever treasure you take out of Injiltaprajura.’
Such was Trasilika’s statement of intent.
And it was a lie.
But Justina believed it.
Thus putting her life in peril.
Now Justina Thrug was a very intelligent woman, but her thinking was in error because she was operating from a false premise. She presumed her guests to be frauds, just like the first Trasilika and the first Froissart. Hence she believed — as Dardanalti and Uckermark believed — that those guests ultimately had no option but to flee Injiltaprajura.
But as Trasilika and Froissart were legitimate appointees of Aldarch the Third, they did have one very tempting option open to them. They needed the Thrug for the moment so they could prove themselves true. But once proof had been secured, once they had demonstrated their righteousness to Master Ek, to all those of Janjuladoola race, and to the mob in general, why, then they would have no need of Justina whatsoever.
So what was to stop them from redeeming themselves in the eyes of Aldarch the Third by ordering her immediate execution?
Why, nothing!
And this they planned to do.
The day after Froissart had passed his trial by ordeal, Justina Thrug would be hacked to death, and all her allies with her. Froissart and Trasilika had sworn as much.
But these treacherous intruders disguised their intentions by arguing ferociously about their entitlement to a fraction of any treasure which was airlifted out of Untunchilamon. And the argument was still going on when Juliet Idaho intruded upon the conference.
‘Ah, Julie my love,’ said Justina happily. ‘It’s so nice to see you here.’
The Empress looked a new woman. She had entirely recovered from the recent disasters. Or so one would think to look at her. Though if the truth be told, Justina was in the grip of great anxieties. She knew that Master Ek knew (all of Injiltaprajura knew!) that Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin was rebuilding an airship atop the pink palace. She was very much afraid that Ek would persuade the wonder-workers of the Cabal House to destroy the rebuilt ship. Or that Ek would precipitate a crisis before the ship was ready to fly. If a crisis came, Justina did not know whether she could really trust Trasilika. Thus she was far from certain of the permanence of her reprieve from execution.
The Empress had been through one trauma too many of late. She had almost been torn apart by centipedes in the Temple of Torture; she had fled for her life in fear of a mob; a dorgi had captured her Downstairs; she had come face to face with a therapist from the Golden Gulag; a second arrest had seen her committed to formal trial.
With her personal history in such disorder, she was not inclined to trust any idle assurances of a happy ever after. She would trust nothing for certain until the soil of Wen Endex was under her feet.
‘What did you say?’ said Idaho, in his warlord voice.
‘I said, Julie darling, that I’m happy to see you here.’
‘Well I’m not happy to be here,’ said Idaho. ‘Not in the same room with two frauds.’
And he drew his sword.
Trasilika and Froissart were terrorstruck, for they had come to the conference unarmed. But Justina never faltered.
‘Julie dear,’ said Justina, ‘put down your sword. These people may be frauds, but they’re my frauds.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Idaho, who was ignorant of the conspiracy.
‘My good friend Uckermark did a deal with these people,’ said Justina calmly. ‘He arranged it with Dardanalti. You see, we’re going to help them prove they’re not frauds. We’re going to do that by helping Froissart here to come through a trial by ordeal.’
‘We’re going to help him?’ said Idaho. ‘But why?’ ‘Because otherwi se Master Ek will kill them.’
