empty.’
‘Forty years is hardly emptiness,’ said Justina.
‘It’s a big cockroach,’ said Shabble.
Still poor Shabble was ignored.
Shabble tried again.
‘He’s-’
‘Quiet!’ said Chegory Guy, addressing himself to Shabble.
‘Chegory has given you a very wise command,’ said the Crab, pretending it thought the Ebrell Islander had been addressing the Empress Justina.
Chegory blushed furiously.
And Shabble said:
‘He’s hiding under a rock. He has to hide there because there’s nowhere safe for him to go.’
‘Yes,’ said Justina, at last turning her wrath upon the floating bubble of brightness, ‘but there’s plenty of places both safe and unsafe for you to go. Leave us!’
Such was the imperial anger that Shabble sideslipped through the air and hid behind Odolo. Shabble, as cold as chilled crystal, pressed Shabbleself against the conjuror’s neck and whispered:
‘Please won’t you help me. With my cockroach, I mean.’
‘Shabble!’ said Odolo, with a note of warning in his voice.
‘As I was saying,’ said the Empress Justina, a note of stridency entering her voice. ‘Dui Tin Char is-’’
‘I know what Dui Tin Char is doing,’ said the Crab. ‘You’ve told me twice and thrice already.’
Then one of the Crab’s huge claws opened. Then closed. With a crunch. This was a danger sign.
‘I think,’ said Chegory Guy, pulling Olivia to her feet, ‘that, um, you’d be more private without us, all you, um, ah, politicians and people.’
Without further ado, the Ebrell Islander and the Ashdan lass absquatulated. The corpse-master Uckermark, the least reliable member of Justina’s expeditionary force, sensed danger, and wished himself elsewhere.
‘My cockroach,’ said the plaintive Shabble. ‘Won’t anyone help me with my cockroach?’
Not having any desire to be turned inside out by a wrathful Crab, Uckermark seized his opportunity to escape:
‘All right, my friend,’ said Uckermark. ‘Let’s go and see this cockroach of yours.’
Then he looked at Yilda. And she, realizing the reasons for Uckermark’s decision, made her apologies to her Empress and followed her mate and the free-floating Shabble.
‘So,’ said the Empress Justina, ‘it seems my people wish to desert me. Very well! Be gone, the lot of you! Off you go! Now! Vanish!’
Thus spoke Justina, driving her people from her despite their protests. She too had realized that the Crab was on the verge of doing something unfortunate.
Once the crowd had left, the Crab seemed to calm down a little. At least it stopped claw-crunching. So Justina ventured to say:
‘All I’m asking is a very little favour. I’m asking you to bring Dui Tin Char into line, that’s all.’
‘I am no longer interested in your politics,’ said the Crab. ‘If you haven’t paid your taxes that’s your problem, not mine.’
‘But I’m the Empress!’ protested Justina. ‘I don’t have to pay taxes.’
‘I have heard that legal opinion is divided on the matter,’ said the Crab. ‘In any case, I am no longer interested. Go away, leave me alone.’
Further argument convinced Justina that this entity was speaking the truth. The Hermit Crab had entered one of those deep depressions to which it was prone; it wished nothing more than to be left alone and in peace. Justina did her best to rouse the Crab’s interest, appealing to its pride, curiosity, vanity and fear, to its philanthropic inclinations and its desire for human fellowship. All to no avail.
For many millennia, the Crab had pursued a policy of quietism; it seldom intervened in human politics, which it had found singularly unrewarding, for the greatest labours in that field of endeavour are likely to be undone overnight by the thoughtless violence of the mob or the cunning machinations of unscupulous power-seekers. Justina was battling against habits deeply entrenched over the centuries, and she was losing. At last the Empress Justina withdrew in confusion.
‘Well?’ said Log Jaris, when the Empress met up with her expeditionary force at the steps of the Analytical Institute.
‘It’s no good,’ said Justina. ‘The Crab won’t help us.’
Then she looked around and said:
‘Where’s Uckermark? And Yilda?’
‘Still with Shabble,’ said Odolo. ‘And Shabble’s cockroach.’
‘That Shabble!’ said the Empress. ‘Can Shabble help us?’
‘Shabble,’ said Odolo, ‘is notoriously difficult to work with. But I suggest we… I suggest we work on the problem.’
CHAPTER FIVE
In the days that followed, the Empress Justina and the conjuror Odolo did work very hard on the problem of converting Shabble to their cause; but unexpected difficulties supervened, and their best efforts met with failure.
Then the Empress Justina despaired of her life.
She had virtually no power of any description at her disposal, and the power of her enemies was great. At the moment, her enemies feared her to be protected by the Crab. That fear was restraining them. But the illusion of such protection surely could not be maintained for ever.
While Justina did truly despair, this condition did not last long, for the Empress was possessed of a strong streak of constitutional optimism. After a secret conference with Log Jaris, Dardanalti and other advisers, she initiated an extremely dangerous strategy, risking the total destruction of Injiltaprajura.
Justina Thrug said nothing directly to Tin Char, and refused to speak to the head of the Inland Revenue when he asked for an audience so they could discuss ‘the matter of your unpaid taxes’.
While Dui Tin Char tried to persuade his allies to launch a direct assault on the pink palace, Justina arranged for the Crab to be tormented most unmercifully. At her instigation, parties of school children toured the island of Jod, with a visit to the lair of the Crab being the highpoint on their itinerary. Since the Crab was known to have an aversion to bells, Justina arranged for a bell-swinging ghost to walk that island thrice nightly. As the Crab was a dedicated gourmet, its personal chef — the eminent Pelagius Zozimus — was poisoned with opium then kidnapped, and held incommunicado in a helpless drug stupor.
If there was one person who possessed a degree of empathy with the Crab, one person who could possibly be thought of as a friend of that entity, then that was the Ebrell Islander Chegory Guy. But Justina removed young Chegory from the Crab’s presence by the simple expedient of commanding him to her bed then keeping him there. Chegory’s abrupt disappearance left the delectable Olivia Qasaba quite hysterical. She retired to the Dromdanjerie, where she took to her bed and wept as if the world were ending.
That left the Crab completely alone in the world.
Meanwhile, Justina arranged for a series of conflicting rumours and ambiguous documents (variously marked SECRET, TOP SECRET, MOST URGENTLY SECRET, EYES ONLY, BURN AFTER READING and BURN UNREAD) to be leaked to Dui Tin Char. She then told her sister Theodora (in the greatest confidence) that the Crab planned to boil Tin Char alive when the Trade Fleet arrived, and was only permitting him to live so he would still be available for this ceremony. As Justina had expected, this intelligence was common knowledge in less than three days.
Naturally, Dui Tin Char took fright at this intelligence.
But Tin Char was no coward, and hence did not commandeer a canoe and flee from Untunchilamon forthwith.
So what were his other options?
