by Hugh Cook
The Empress Justina made careful plans along these lines as the season of Fistavlir drew to a close, and she was full of hope by the time the rule of the doldrums finally ended, the Long Dry coming to an end in an outbreak of wind and of rain.
But hope soon changed to something remarkably like despair when the Inland Revenue raided Justina’s pink palace.
As has been stated, the head of the Inland Revenue was the redoubtable Dui Tin Char, who had long pretended loyalty to Justina. But Tin Char (so we must name him, for Dui is a personal name, and to refer to him merely by the family name of Tin would be ever so slightly insulting) was of Janjuladoola race like Aldarch the Third. Tin Char longed to see the rule of Aldarch Three triumph on Untunchilamon, and to see Justina and her cohorts punished for their various acts of repression and usurpation.
To give but one example of Tin Char’s grievances, he had long lamented the suppression of the rites of his dearly beloved Temple of Torture. Under the reign of Wazir Sin, Tin Char had been a most enthusiastic priest of that temple; when the Family Thrug had outlawed his religion, Tin Char had abandoned the priesthood for the bureaucracy with the specific idea of rising to a place of eminence from which he could exact revenge.
Now Tin Char was eminent indeed.
Treachery, blackmail and poison had made him head of the Inland Revenue in scarcely seven short years, and he was ready to move against the Family Thrug.
But . . .
What would be the reaction of the Hermit Crab?
The potential dangers from this quarter were so great that they gave even Tin Char cause for thought; accordingly, he did not begin by chopping off Justina’s head, but contented himself with looting her treasury. His logic was very simple. If the Crab objected, he could always return the treasure and make apologies, whereas decapitation could not be so easily reversed; on the other hand, if the Crab proved compliant, Justina’s head could then be removed without trouble.
Tin Char offered immense bribes to Justina’s soldiers, who then co-operated with the raid in which every bit of treasure in the pink palace was removed to the premises of the Temple of Torture. The legal pretext for this move was very simple. According to Tin Char, Untunchilamon was still a part of the Izdimir Empire, and Justina Thrug was still a subject citizen of that empire and hence liable to penalties under imperial law; which meant that, as she had paid no taxes for the last seven years, all her assets could be confiscated.
Justina’s dismay can easily be imagined.
The winds were blowing; the Trade Fleet would in due course arrive; but she would never get her twelve ships unless she had money for bribes. Unless suitably bribed, her soldiers would prevent her escape: and now Tin Char had all her money.
What was Justina to do?
A direct move against Tin Char was of course impossible. Except for a trifling handful of fanatical Thrug loyalists, Justina’s soldiers would rather fight for the Inland Revenue than against it; and, besides, Tin Char had the tacit support of most of Untunchilamon’s resident sorcerers.
In the end, Justina realized there was only one thing she could do. She would have to go to the island of Jod, confront the Crab face to face, and register her protest. She knew she might get turned inside out if she thus disturbed the denizen of Jod. But she had no choice in the matter! So she girded her loins (precisely how I do not know, for I am not privy to all the feminine mysteries), summoned certain of her retainers who were both loyal and reliable, then set forth for the island of Jod.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Empress Justina did not allow herself to be carried to the waterfront in a litter. No. She walked down Lak Street on her own two feet. This fact may well amaze some of my readers, particularly if they come from one of those cultures where the wealthy traditionally regard walking as evidence of sin, to the point where the Watch will often arrest and interrogate people solely because they have been caught in an act of perambulation.
But the facts are the facts, and the historian has a duty to record the facts even when they may seem to call the veracity of these annals into question. The truth is that Justina Thrug habitually walked about her city on her own two feet, even though she was an imperial ruler with many slaves at her command; and, unbelievable though this may seem to many of my readers, she actually enjoyed walking.
Here we must remember that Justina Thrug was the daughter of a Yudonic Knight, and hence a child of Wen Endex; and the children of Wen Endex are possessed of a culture which is in many ways singular and unique.
After walking down Lak Street to the waterfront, Justina did not embark upon an outrigger canoe. For a start, she did not like canoes; for she was a fleshy woman, and found the constrictions of such craft nearly intolerable. Besides, she preferred to walk. So, with her loyal and reliable retainers, she strode along the embankment of crushed red coral and broken bloodstone until she came to the harbour bridge, and this she crossed.
Those who accompanied the Empress across the Harbour Bridge to the island of Jod were the corpse-master Uckermark, his woman Yilda, the conjuror Odolo, the lawyer Dardanalti and the bullman Log Jaris.
Notably absent from this expedition was Juliet Idaho, a warrior of unimpeachable loyalty but dubious reliability. Unfortunately, Idaho was a Yudonic Knight who tried to out-knight all other knights real and imaginary, living and dead; and, consequently, he had but small skills as a diplomat. If Idaho had come along, there was a danger he might have attacked the Crab; and such were the Crab’s powers that such foolishness would only have served to secure a hero’s death for the Yudonic Knight.
As Justina and her trusty few made their way across the harbour bridge, their progress was observed by a number of people. Among these was Threp Sodakik, an innocent fisherman. He was fated to be torn to pieces by sharks, and his relevance to this history is precisely zero, so no more will be said of him.
Other observers included a group of drummers based on four outrigger canoes which were rafted up together in the middle of the Laitemata. Despite the heat and the suffocating humidity, the drummers were pounding their instruments of delusion with an unabated frenzy, sweat drenching from their faces as they did so. For these juvenile delinquents, drumming was life; hence their political impact was zero, and no more will be said of them either.
The Empress Justina was also scrutinized by several of the many spies who those days infested Injiltaprajura. At this time, fear and suspicion had reached such a pitch that virtually every power in the city had its spies, so it is certain that the Empress was under observation. However, as it has proved impossible for the historian to unravel the intricacies of espionage and counterespionage which played such an important part in the final days of imperial rule on Untunchilamon, nothing more will be said of these spies.
The oncoming band of petitioners was observed from the Analytical Institute. Artemis Ingalawa (Jon Qasaba’s sister-in-law, and hence Olivia Qasaba’s aunt) looked up from her work and saw them approaching. But, as the algorithmist’s attention was engaged by a complicated problem in binary logic, she returned to her labours and thought no more about it.
Thus it would have appeared to the casual observer that nobody was paying any attention whatsoever to the progress of the imperial party, who might have been mistaken for an idle group of tourists on their way to gawk at the Analytical Engine.
Of course the reality was entirely different.
Many people were watching Justina, either directly or by proxy; and her mission was one of the utmost delicacy, danger and importance, which was why she had very carefully chosen her companions.
The bullman Log Jaris had been brought along precisely because he had the head, horns and fur of a bull, for all that he walked along on two feet like a man. Justina suspected that the Crab knew that many people feared and hated it merely because it was in Crab shape rather than human. Justina personally found the crustacean configuration aesthetically pleasing, but doubted that the Crab would believe her if she simply stated this fact; so, by
way of practical demonstration of her lack of prejudice where form was concerned, she was bringing along Log Jaris.
Quite apart from that, Justina was these days going to great lengths to cultivate Log Jaris’s acquaintance, because the bullman was an expert on the geography of the mazeways Downstairs. Since Justina might not be able to get off Untunchilamon, she might one day have to flee Downstairs to preserve her own life; in which case, the help of experts such as the bullman would be indispensable.
Yilda had been brought along because Justina had recruited her as a spy, and was setting her many tests of observation and recall. When they got back to the pink palace (presuming they were not eaten or otherwise destroyed by an irritated Crab) the Empress would debrief Yilda and make any recommendations needed to improve the woman’s observational talents.
The corpse-master Uckermark, a man richly tattooed and grossly scarred by burns, had been brought along as extra muscle, for he was a handy man in a fight. Justina feared assassins - and with reason - and hence seldom went anywhere without the company of loyal fighting men.
Uckermark was not actually all that loyal.
Furthermore, the Empress Justina knew as much.
She knew Uckermark to be a man very much engaged in the furtherance of his own ends. He was an individual of piratical inclinations, who had once (he did not know she knew, but she knew it right enough) gone so far as to steal Injiltaprajura’s precious wishstone on the occasion of a royal banquet. Even so, Justina felt she could safely make use of him, at least for the moment.
Perhaps she was right, perhaps she was wrong, but . . . either way, she had very little choice in the matter. A year ago, she had felt she could trust almost everyone on Untunchilamon. But, since an attempted coup by Aquitaine Varazchavardan, Justina’s hold on the affections of her people had become very shaky indeed. Why? Simply because the valuable illusions of invulnerable power which had long supported the reign of the Family Thrug had been rudely shattered.
These days, all Injiltaprajura knew that Justina Thrug ruled only by the good graces of the Crab, which had intervened to restore her to the throne after Varazcha-vardan’s coup. Injiltaprajura knew too that, were the Thrug to lose the Crab’s support, she would swiftly be overthrown by the wonderworkers of the Cabal House, or the Inland Revenue, or her own soldiers, or a priestly conspiracy acting in the name of the Izdimir Empire, or by some whim of the mob.
With Justina went Dardanalti, the lawyer who had first entered her life on the recommendation of Log Jaris.
Also with the Empress was the conjuror Odolo, whom she brought along for the sole purpose of confusing her enemies. She knew her enemies wasted much time and effort wondering (and seeking to discover precisely) what dark part the ever-present conjuror played in the imperial power plays. The mundane truth (a truth which the imperial enemies never suspected) was that Odolo was no more than he appeared to be, that is to say, an entertainer and a personal friend of the Empress.
(And in this connection let us say that the oliveskinned Odolo is not to be confused with the professional jester or fool whom you will find at many courts imperial, for the Empress Justina had no need for such; she was her own fool, and maintained a sense of proportion without the professional assistance of a jester.)
On reaching the island of Jod, the Empress Justina conducted her expeditionary force to the cave where Chegory Guy and Olivia Qasaba were attending to the needs of the Crab.
When discovered by the Empress, Chegory and Olivia were locked together in a close embrace. Given the heat of the day, this embrace must have been extremely uncomfortable; and, as the mouths of those two young people were in intimate communication, it must have been rather difficult for them to breathe. Perhaps this combination of this discomfort and difficulty accounts for the fact that both were distinctly heard to be moaning.
For its own part, the Crab was doing very little. To be more precise, it was doing precisely nothing; and looked for all the world like a statue of itself.
Justina was startled to see the chips of glass, the rags of silk and other junk coliaged across the Crab’s carapace. The Empress did not receive regular intelligence reports on the hermit of Jod because fear made people give the thing the widest berth possible. It was the imperial startlement which prompted her first question:
‘Blood of the Gloat! What has happened to you?’ ‘What has happened to me?’ said the Crab. ‘I appear to have been disturbed by a crowd of uninvited visitors led by the daughter of a Yudonic Knight. That is what has happened to me.’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ said Justina. ‘I meant - oh, never mind. I have to talk to you about something important.’
‘Nothing is important,’ said the Crab.
Whether the Crab really believed this is a moot point, and my own opinion is that it did not. However, rather than arguing the point, Justina began to pour out her sorrows. She told the Crab all about the depredations of Dui Tin Char and the uncertainties which now attended her grip on life and power alike.
While Justina was thus lecturing the Crab, a juvenile delinquent arrived to see what had drawn this great crowd to the domicile of Injiltaprajura’s most distinguished eremite. The delinquent was Shabble.
‘Hello,’ said Shabble brightly. ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Hush,’ said Chegory Guy, who had ceased his slow-motion wrestling with the delectable Olivia Qasaba.
‘But why?’ said Shabble.
To this, Chegory made no answer.
So Shabble drifted closer.
‘. . . and after all,’ said the Empress Justina, ‘it was you who imposed the present peace upon Injiltaprajura. When Dui Tin Char moves against the pink palace, that’s really an offence against your dignity.’
‘Dignity,’ said the Crab heavily, ‘is a vanity. I am not partial to the vanities.’
‘There’s more to it than questions of vanity,’ said the Empress, with a note of desperation in her voice.
And she went on to elaborate.
While the Empress was elaborating, an ant of the red and biting kind (a very Ebrell Islander in its humours) was doing its best to circumnavigate Shabble’s surface. As Shabble had temporarily made Shabbleself a mirror, this surface reflected the tense and anxious spectators, notably the hard-bitten Yilda (a woman somewhere between the ages of forty and sixty), the corpse-master Uckermark (he of the many tattoos) and the conjuror Odolo (he of the olive skin and the hooked nose).
Shabble, who was no respecter of persons (or of much else, for that matter) rubbed Shabbleself against Justina’s neck in order to be rid of the ant. This was a merciful way to dispose of this nuisance, since Shabble could just as easily have heated Shabbleself until the ant was burnt alive, or (alternatively) could have made Shabbleself’s surface as cold as ice (or colder), thus freezing the poor thing.
Unfortunately the insect, when let loose upon the neck imperial, failed to appreciate either the honour which had been done to it or the dangers of its present position; and, irritated or enraged by some ant-style emotions which it is beyond the power of the historian to elucidate, the small hymenopterous insect launched a sanguinary assault upon the mistress of the pink palace.
Now it happens that Justina Thrug was great in mercy; and, had she realized that she was under attack from such a source, she might have asked Yilda or Log Jaris to remove the thing. But such was the stress of the moment that Justina merely brushed the beast away, crushing it without consciously realizing she had felt the thing bite her.
‘. . . and,’ said Justina, ‘given your help, I could secure ships sufficient to remove myself and my supporters from Untunchilamon for ever. All I need is help sufficient to maintain my power until the Trade Fleet comes.’
‘Why should I help you?’ said the Crab.
‘Out of mercy,’ said Justina.
And Shabble said, brightly:
‘I’ve found a cockroach.’
Nobody took any notice.
‘I will be eternally grateful for any help you give me
,’ said the Empress Justina, still speaking to the Crab.
‘You will not live for eternity,’ said the Crab. ‘You will be lucky if you live another forty years. Your rhetoric is 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.
