The Wazir and the Witch
Page 42
Again Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin raised his hands.
Again he shouted.
With the greatest appearance of reluctance, the ship began to spin. Slowly, slowly it went. It did not leave the rooftop. But it steadily gathered speed until it was whirling round with a roar of wind.
‘Whoa!’ cried Sken-Pitilkin, outright alarm writ clear across his face.
Then the ship kicked into an upward spiral.
They were off.
And they were leaving just in time, for down below a tsunami was striking Untunchilamon. Up, up it rose, its cataclysmic waters sweeping across the outer reef. It crashed across the lagoon and swamped its way across Island Scimitar. It rushed over and around the island of Jod. Then its fury pounded the embankment of crushed bloodstone and red coral which disciplined the inland border of the Laitemata. Disembarking soldiers screamed in panic or clung to each other in dismay as the tsunami broke over them.
The crashing waters thrashed around the helpless living flesh, buffeted across the embankment, reached the first shacks and boathouses, the first shopstalls and housefronts . . . and there hesitated, paused, then, realizing they had exhausted their momentum, began to slide back into the Laitemata.
The backsliding waters carried away with them a good three dozen soldiers and a princess, the princess in question being the elegant Sabitha Winolathon Taskin-jathura, she of the noble lineage, the impeccable breeding. Fortunately, she could swim; and the soldiers could swim as well; and when the excitement was over and all the swimmers had been hauled from the water, it was discovered that the damage done by the tsunami amounted to no more than an impromptu bath for one princess (the above mentioned Princess Sabitha) and some three or four dozen soldiers.
For not all tsunamis are equal, and this one (like Nixorjapretzel Rat’s demon) was more unequal than most.
Your historian regrets the fact that he is unable to conclude this account by providing you with a final scene of cataclysmic destruction, but what happened is what happened, and history cannot be amended merely to spice up a story. So we cannot here have any account of the overthrow of Injiltaprajura, of the bursting of buildings, of the screams of helpless victims staring uphill in horror as the ship-sized monument known as Pearl pounds down upon them, of splattered blood and broken bones and skulls exploding as life and hope are eyeblinked into oblivion.
No, what happened is commonplace - indeed, batho-tic - by comparison. But it is the truth. The wave came, the wave broke, and Injiltaprajura was much the same thereafter, for it was a wave far too small to fit the real dramatic needs of the moment. And Justina Thrug escaped by air from the hooks and claws of justice and (to the best of the historian’s knowledge) was never seen again on Untunchilamon.
Of Untunchilamon and its politics you now know; or, to put it another way, you know as much as your historian can reasonably be expected to convey, given the limitations of his sources, the dictates of mortality and the outrageous price of ink, pens and fooskin. However, one final duty remains, and that is for the historian to clear up a small mystery. How did the Empress Justina swindle the innocent Jean Froissart? You will remember that the Empress set three glasses in a row on a table. That she flip-flopped two at a time. That three such manipulations gave her two inverted glasses and one standing upright. Froissart, challenged to duplicate the feat, failed.
Despite his genius level intellect.
How so?
The reader has already been warned that the answer is bathotic, and so it it. For when we come to the question of conjuring, the interest is all in the illusion; and the explanation of that illusion is necessarily disappointing.
The answer is this:
Justina started off with a row of three glasses, the beakers at the end inverted and the central glass standing upright. When she rearranged the glasses, the Empress inverted the central beaker and let the other two stand upright. Froissart, let loose on this array, thought he was tackling the problem so easily solved by the Empress. Of course he was not. Hence his mind-buckling frustration and his inevitable defeat.
That Froissart was so easily fooled is not to his discredit, for nine people out of ten will fall victim if the Manipulator has any skill; and Justina, coached well by the conjuror Odolo, had mastered the art of subtly misdirecting the mind.
Naturally Froissart was predisposed to think Justina a witch, which made her deception easier; however, the fact remains that it usually takes a trained Observer to reveal the deceits of an adroit Manipulator, and that some of the world’s greatest Investigators have been fooled by tricks equally as feeble as that to which Froissart fell victim.
It follows that conjurors can often pass as wizards or wonder-workers; and many have done just that, often winning great honours from naive rulers, and sometimes continuing their deceits until overtaken by death in a wealthy and much-honoured old age. However, should the reader be tempted to adopt such a stratagem, be warned that such deceits have sometimes failed in a truly spectacular fashion; and the writer will not accept responsibility for the consequences!
With that said, our history is, strictly speaking, at an end. Let us write it thus:
THE END
However, this history has been, in many ways, an account of the progress of certain diseases through the body politic of the island of Untunchilamon; and, accordingly, while our narrative is terminated, a few brief notes on the sequelae are in order. The sequelae were many and various, but the most notable are as follows:
» Arat, Orge: of this individual, little has been said; for it would seem excessively egotistical for a historian to play hero in his own history.
Nevertheless, mention was made of him in the text. It was noted that he was long incarcerated in the Dromdanjerie, believing himself to be a sane man pretending to be mad in order to avoid the consequences of murder, his mother-in-law being the person he thought he had slain.
At long last, in one of his lucid moments, he realized his mother-in-law still lived. He escaped, intending to kill her. But failed. Thereafter he was sheltered first by Nixorjapretzel Rat and then by Troldot ‘Heavy-Fist’ Turbothot. On Turbothot’s ship he laboured long and hard to recreate the Injiltaprajuradariski, The Secret History which owed so much to revelations by the lunatic-befriending Shabble.
Unfortunately, the recreated draft was flung to the sea during the voyage from Untunchilamon. And thereafter conditions were less than ideal for literary labours, for, by a series of unfortunate accidents, Orge Arat came very close to doom in the dungeons of Obooloo.
However, vomit may yet feed a dog, as the proverbial saying has it; and the incarceration was not without advantage inasmuch as Orge Arat was long confined in company with Aquitaine Varazchavardan, who told him much of interest, if not all.
Thanks to this and other revelations, Orge Arat was in an excellent position to recreate the Injiltaprajuradariski anew when he finally made his way to refuge in the Mountains of the Moon. There he laboured long, finishing a final draft of the Secret History, this one written not in purple ink but in the finest vermilion.
While that final draft was written at a time when insanity had the ascendancy, when the historian once more believed himself (ah, sweet delusion!) to be the murderer of his mother-in-law, it was nevertheless a fairly accurate account of certain events upon Untunchilamon. However, it dealt only with Varazchavardan’s attempted coup and certain events which preceded it.
Thereafter, the historian wandered long in sundry places, enduring great dangers and greater sufferings. At last he returned again to his native Quilth, land of the taniwha; returned older (definitely), wiser (one hopes) and saner (incontrovertibly). This time he settled not in the Mountains of the Moon but in the lowlands of the south, and there bethought himself to write a further history of Untunchilamon. This tome is, of course, that history; starting some time after Varazchavardan’s attempted coup and proceeding to the general exodus from Untunchilamon.
» Cockroach, the Holy, was conveyed to Port Domax b
y His worshippers, and there in due course was installed in a tempje built to His glory; and there he lived to what was, for an entity incarnated in his particular corporeal form, a grand old age.
I am particularly glad to be able to record this happy ending, as cockroaches are truly admirable individuals who have suffered much from the world’s prejudices. (This insight I owe to Shabble, for I would never have been able to overcome my own prejudices without such assistance.)
Naturally the corporeal form of the Holy Cockroach eventually succumbed to mortality; but He doubtless reincarnated Himself elsewhere, and perhaps he is in among that group of a dozen happy insects now feeding upon the dish of tolfrigdalakaptiko which sits upon my desk (not the dish which I ate around about the time of the composition of the first and second chapters of this history, but an entirely new batch of seagull livers which I prepared especially for these cockroaches, these dearest and most valued of my friends).
» Codlugarthia: the Crab is an entity of whom we can hope to know little now that Untunchilamon has become an island of impenetrable mystery. It may be that Codlugarthia is the Intruder who brought the pogroms of Wazir Ek to their abrupt and sanguinary termination; though this is not certain, for it may be that the Intruder was a thing of great evil (some would say: of great good) from the depths Downstairs. Possibly Codlugarthia is the ‘devil-god’ encountered by the ill-fated Expeditionary Force from Odrum; or possibly not; for some think this creature of ghoulish habit and irascible temperament to have been the revenant of Lonstantine Thrug.
» Crab: see Codlugarthia.
» Dardanalti: survived the various discords which befell Untunchilamon following the departure of Justina Thrug, and eventually travelled to Obooloo, there becoming a leading defence lawyer. However, finally the Powers That Be caught up with him, and he was executed for practising law without a licence. This he deserved, for he was a fraud, a complete charlatan, a man with no more formal legal training than the corpse-master Uckermark. This the reader should have guessed long ago: for surely a real lawyer would have let the Empress Justina perish in the Temple of Torture, instead of intervening (as did the courageous Dardanalti, at considerable risk to his own life) with a well-timed but totally unlawyerly kick.
» Ek, Nadalastabstala Banraithanchumun: at the command of Aldarch Three, abandoned the priesthood of Zoz the Ancestral in order to become wazir of Untunchilamon. In the discharge of his duties, was hindered by neither age nor the loss of one eye. Pursued pogrom avidly until his existence was interrupted by an Intruder of unknown origin. (Unknown, yes, but many have speculated: see Codlugarthia.)
» Guy, Chegory: is rumoured to have become the High Priest of the Cult of the Holy Cockroach in Port Domax.
» Hermit Crab: see Crab.
»Jaris, Log: departed from Untunchilamon in the company of the Empress Justina, as related in our history. Thereafter, his fate is murky; but it seems the bullman ultimately took himself off to the west. And, if a confident Rumour is to be believed, in due course the bullman made himself lord of the mighty metropolis of D’Waith, a populous trading centre said to control all commercial intercourse between the continent of Argan and the Ravlish Lands.
While the Fall of Drangsturm has seen Argan meet with ruin, it is nevertheless said that Log Jaris still rules from his five-gated city on the heights above the Penvash Channel; and the hospitality of his halls has become legendary.
A person answering the description of Log Jaris also features in that confused and contradictory corpus of literature known as the Dreldragon Legends. There a bullman, so named and so described, is claimed to be the ‘master of the halls of ever-flowing wine’ which are said to stand beside the shores of Lake Arkanziz (some sources say: Lake Marankis) in the land of Penvash; and it is said that the young Lord Dreldragon consulted this personage on certain Holy Matters before venturing to the City of the Dead; and that, on his return from encounters with the Dead, Dreldragon made a great sacrifice of dogs, of goats and of arak to the greater glory of the bullman.
We hear also in the Dreldragon Legends that the young lord travelled in company with an Ashdan of notorious savagery and superlative combat skill; and some have identified this Ashdan warwolf as Shanvil Angarus May, though others have thought the identification doubtful.
» May, Shanvil Angarus: fate unknown. But see the entry for Log Jaris.
» Molly: shared the fate of Log Jaris (q.v.).
» Thrug, Justina: it is known that the Empress Justina returned to Galsh Ebrek and there became involved in a power struggle for control of Wen Endex. Given the intricacy of that struggle, the historian hesitates to summarize it here, for compression has a tendency to damage truth; better that the curious research the matter in detail elsewhere.
» Thrug, Lonstantine: missing, believed dead. (But see entry for Codlugarthia.)
» Thrug, Theodora: of the fate of Justina’s twin sister, little is known. She escaped from Untunchilamon on a ship commanded by Troldot Turbothot (q.v.); and she was at the time his lover. Some have speculated that she may have settled into a matronly middle age in the arms of that gentleman; however, given her invincible predilection for amatory adventures, such an outcome is most unlikely.
We note that she had oft declared a wish to be a pirate. Rumour has noted likewise, a process which has given rise to some highly colourful legends, one of which sees her pirating her way across the Green Sea in a ship of seven masts - a feat quite impossible when one considers that the said Sea is scarcely deep enough for the canoes of the Ngati Moana to make their voyages in safety. Given the extreme improbability of this and other stories perpetrated by rumour, the historian regretfully declines to commit any of the details to the page.
» Tin Char, Dui: may have perished in the wastes of Zolabrik; or, if an alternative rumour is to believed, to have found refuge with Jal Japone.
» Turbothot, Troldot ‘Heavy-Fist’: after sundry adventures on the shores of Moana, this adventuring gentleman proceeded beyond the horizons of Verified Truth and Rumour alike.
» Uckermark'. confused and contradictory reports surround the activities of this corpse-master, and the historian has ultimately nothing certain with which to grace his page.
» Qasaba, Jon: of this Ashdan therapist, nothing need be said; for he has written himself into history to such an extent that there is surely no need to make mention of him here.
» Qasaba, Olivia: is said to have made a life-alliance with Chegory Guy in Port Domax.
» Varazchavardan, Aquitaine: the story of Justina’s Master of Law is given (to the extent to which it is known) under the entry for Orge Arat (q.v.). Varazchavardan’s ultimate fate is unknown; but, considering the predicament he was in when the historian saw him last (in Obooloo, as it happens) it is most probable that he is long since dead.
But there are no guarantees of this.
» Zozimus, Pelagius: when last heard of, this wizard of the order of Xluzu was said to be living in Port Domax in the care of Olivia Qasaba, who kissed him daily, and sometimes took him to bed with her. Unfortunately, the degree to which he enjoyed these blandishments was limited, because he was still incarnated as a hampster. This is doubtless a better fate than that intended for him by Nixorjapretzel Rat, for Jan Rat had intended to turn Zozimus into a cockroach and then to step upon him. Nevertheless, it is probable that Zozimus is far from being resigned to his fate. How long will he stay thus imprisoned? That this history cannot tell. However, it would appear that his shape had assumed what may be an unshakeable form; and it is said that wizards live for a long, long time.
THE END
Table of Contents
Title Page
Also by Hugh Cook
THE WAZIR AND THE WITCH A CORGI BOOK
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
>
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Table of Contents
Title Page
Also by Hugh Cook
THE WAZIR AND THE WITCH A CORGI BOOK
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE