The Wishstone and the Wonderworkers (54 page)

‘I’m dying...’

‘My lord Binchinminfin,’ said one of his soldiers. ‘It is not death which ails you. It is but a hangover.’

‘Oh,’ said the Odolo-voiced demon. Weakly. ‘Oh. A hangover. Side effects. Yes, I remember.’ Then Chegory’s eyes closed and his face went slack. The demon was rummaging through Chegory’s mind. Then the face animated itself again and Binchinminfin once more stared out of those eyes. ‘It comes to me,’ said the demon, ‘that there is no cure for this side effect but time. It must be lived through. Is that not so?’

‘Such is the world’s wisdom, my lord,’ said the same soldier who had first addressed him.

The man was doing his best to be politely deferential, and was making an excellent job of it. But the strain he was under was obvious.

Binchinminfin looked around.

‘Varazchavardan,’ he said.

‘It’s no good coming to me,’ said Aquitaine Varazchavardan, who was suffering terribly from last night’s drinking bout and was in no hurry to be again possessed. ‘Don’t you remember? You abused me bitterly before you let me go. I’m in agony even now. Sledgehammers in my head.’ Then the Master of Law pointed at Justina. ‘If you must take someone - take her.’

There stood Justina, freshly washed and freshly dressed, and smiling with amusement at some private, unvoiced joke. Of all the people in the Star Chamber she looked to be the happiest, healthiest and most comfortable. Binchinminfin wasted no time in reflection. Instead, the demon acted - deserting young Chegory in favour of the flesh of the Empress. This time there was no alcohol to soften the psychic shock of transmigration. So, as the demon possessed her, the Empress Justina fell insensible to the carpeting food, spoiling her new clothes entirely.

‘Chegory!’ said Olivia.

‘I’m free!’ said he.

Moments later, they were in each other’s arms.

Justina’s white ape, Vazzy, picked its way across the muck-slush to its mistress. It stood over her slow-breathing body, hooting dismally.

‘Ape and demon are united again,’ said Varazchavardan, raising his voice to the volume of public address as he began to harangue the soldiers. ‘They suit each other well, do they not? This Binchinminfin has found the ape its best companion yet. Look at this place! This is what it means to be ruled by a demon. Is this what you want?’

No soldier claimed it was. So Varazchavardan went on: "You have a choice. Endure whatever madness the demon dreams of next. Or act - but do it quick, my friends, oh yes. be sure to do it quick. Overthrow the demon. Be done with its rule. Aldarch the Third will reward you as well as any demon could. The demon-thing has gone to ground in the flesh of the Empress. It takes but a moment. Act now. Secure your future. Destroy her.’

’You can’d’ said Chegory, disengaging himself from Ohvia.

‘Can’t?’
said
Varazchavardan. ‘What kind of nonsense is that? Of course we can! Indeed, we must!’

'But that’s — that’s the Empress.’

‘Your whore,’ said Varazchavardan. ‘I know. But why worry? You’ve found yourself a new one already.’

Lightly spoke Varazchavardan, but there was death in his voice. Unless he was stopped, he would have the Empress killed in moments. Chegory was a patriot. With a roar of rage he launched himself at the wonderworker. A guard moved to intercept him. But nobody was watching Artemis Ingalawa. Who was already closing with Varazchavardan.

The sorcerer had no time to conjure up defensive flame. He barely had time to fling up a hand in self defence. Ingalawa grabbed the hand by the wrist. There was the crackle of breaking bones. A scream from Varazchavardan. Ingalawa chopped down. She smashed his clavicle with the edge of her hand.

Already guards were storming toward her. She snatched up a stray scimitar and stood at bay. The guards hesitated, for any Ashdan with a weapon is dangerous - and this was a strong, determined, athletic woman.

Then Chegory hit the man who was holding him. Chegory hit hard, hit low, and left his warden disabled by pain. Then the Ebrell Islander scooped up the insensible body of the Empress Justina and was off. Olivia raced after him. Ingalawa slashed at the nearest guard, opening his arm to the bone. Then followed. As did the albinotic ape Vazzy, screaming with rage and excitement as it loped through the corridors of the pink palace.

They were doomed, of course.

There was no way they could outrun the guards when Chegory was burdened by the weight of the Empress.

But he did his best.

He was young, fit and muscular, his body hardened by sledgehammering rocks on Jod for day after day under the blazing sun. The soldiers were soft, overfed and out of condition thanks to long years of eventless garrison routine. Chegory was still outpacing them when he burst into the foyer of the pink palace.

Shouting greeted his ears.

A mob of beggars, petitioners, priests and sundry would-be looters was crowding the palace portico and seeking admission. A handful of guards were keeping them back. Chegory, Ingalawa, Olivia and Vazzy the Ape slammed into the guards from behind, broke through that thin line of military menace, and forged their way into the crowd.

Those few soldiers who tried to follow them were pulled down by the mob. Then were kicked and bruised most horribly before their fellows rescued them and pulled them back to the safety of the pink palace. After a prolonged struggle, the guards at last beat back the mob, closed the palace doors and secured this fortress against immediate entry. But by that time, of course, Chegory and his companions were far away.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

When Chegory and his companions got to the waterfront they found the entire surface of the Laitemata covered with solidified dikle.

For days the wealth fountains of Jod had been pouring out both bile-green dikle and grey shlug. These two substances, when mixed, form an oily, irisated fluid with a specific gravity nearly identical to that of seawater. But, given calm conditions, the shlug will precipitate out, sinking to layer the seabottom rocks with a grey ooze which kills all ground-dwelling life, while the dikle will float to the top and harden into a slightly plastic crust. During the night the two substances in question had so separated. With the result that the Laitemata was a flat green plain. The sun beat down, but the sun, though hot, was not hot enough to melt the dikle.

‘It looks solid,’ said Olivia. ‘Maybe we could walk on it.’

‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ said Ingalawa. ‘It’s thixotropic. That means—’

‘Oh, I know what it means,’ said Olivia.

Then they started out over the harbour bridge.

Vazzy lingered, hooting mournfully.

‘Don’t be frightened!’ said Olivia. But the albinotic ape refused to dare the dangers of the bridge. ‘Oh, don’t be silly!’ said Olivia, and went back, meaning to take it by the hand.

But Vazzy loped away to the buildings.

‘Come on!’ said Artemis Ingalawa, in her this-is-serious-business-and-no-time-to-be-playing-with-apes voice.

So Olivia ran after the others and soon caught them up.

Ahead lay the island of Jod where the bright white marble of the Analytical Institute gleamed in the sun. A little smoke rose from the Institute’s kitchen, reminding Ingalawa and Olivia that they had not had breakfast. Chegory, however, thought not about food. He was working far too hard for that. He had the unconscious corpus of the Empress Justina slung across his shoulders -and she was a fair weight. So he said nothing until, when he was half way across the bridge, he was met by a bright-singing bubble of light.

‘Hello, Chegory!’ sang Shabble.

‘Hi,’ said Chegory, without any great outburst of enthusiasm.

‘Oh, it is good to see you, Chegory dearest,’ said Shabble happily. ‘You were gone so long! I thought you were gone for good!’

‘I notice you didn’t come looking for me,’ said Chegory, as he strode along purposefully, proud of his ability to carry his burden at a vigorous pace.

‘I couldn’d There’s the demon, isn’t there? In the palace!’

‘No,’ said Chegory. ‘The demon’s right here. In the Empress Justina.’

On receiving
this
alarming intelligence, Shabble squeaked with fright and soared high, high into the air. On strode Chegory. Jod’s wealth fountains had ceased outpouring dikle and shlug sometime during the night, so he was able to carry the Empress to the island without slushing through a disgusting chemical outpour. By the time he and his companions had reached the main entrance of the Analytical Institute, Shabble had descended from the heavens. The imitator of suns feared the demon Binchinminfin — yet was consumed by curiosity. What had happened? Furthermore, what would happen now?

Shabble was not alone in curiosity.

Sentries posted by the nervous denizens of Jod had spotted Chegory, Ingalawa and Olivia as soon as they set foot on the harbour bridge. By the time they had reached the Analytical Institute with the Empress, virtually everyone on the island had gathered to find out what was happening.

The press of people was so great that Chegory could not get the Empress inside, and had no option but to put her down. He stood, flexed his back, flexed his arms, then grinned. He could not help his own pride in his strength. His physical supremacy. Even though he knew that such an asset was of little account in the present crisis.

What a crowd! Odolo was there. So was Ivan Pokrov. The Malud marauders, of course. Guest Gulkan and all those of his faction, including the two wizards Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin and Pelagius Zozimus. The kitchen staff. Sundry mechanics and algorithmists. Then there were others, including some quite unknown to Chegory who were refugees from the mainland. All had their questions, and at first the impatient interrogative uproar made for quite intolerable confusion.

‘Where,’ shouted Guest Gulkan, in a fury, ‘is the wishstone? Don’t say you left it behind!’

‘The hell with the wishstone!’ said Chegory.

‘So you did leave it behind!’ said Guest Gulkan.

Then swore. The pretender to the throne of Tameran was so angry that he might have done Chegory a violence if the bullman Logjaris had not intervened.

‘That’s enough!’ said Log Jaris. ‘Enough from the pair of you!’ Then he called all present to order. ‘Speak, Chegory,’ said Logjaris. ‘Tell us what’s been going on.’ ‘What hasn’t!’ said Chegory.

Then gathered his breath, gathered his thoughts, and began. While his speech tended toward incoherence under emotional pressure, when he controlled himself and took his time he was capable of something approaching verbal fluency. Indeed, young Chegory gave the assembly a surprisingly perspicuous and accurate account of recent events in the pink palace and assured them that, in all probability, the demon Binchinminfin was instantly in possession of the body of the Empress Justina.

‘Only one thing for it, then,’ said Pelagius Zozimus, briskly rubbing his hands. ‘Exorcism.’

‘Exorcism?’ said Chegory.

‘We drive the demon from Justina’s body,’ said Zozimus.

‘Is that safe?’ said a kitchen hand.

‘Safe?’ said Zozimus. ‘There’s no safe course here! There’s danger whatever we do. Shall we kill the Empress? We could. The demon Binchinminfin would die with her flesh. Or at least be expelled to the World Beyond. But where does that leave us? With Varazchavardan in the pink palace — ready to enforce the will of Aldarch the Third. Which of us could then hope to leave here alive? No, we need the Empress. With her as figurehead we can war against Varazchavardan with every hope of success. Nine-tenths of Injiltaprajura will hold her in loyalty, surely. No. Look not for
safety.
Instead - make yourself useful. Help me get the woman inside.’

Then Justina was taken to Ivan Pokrov’s private quartos, most of the onlookers were banished, and Pelagius Zozimus began to prepare for the exorcism. Chegory Guy insisted on being present lest Zozimus murder his Empress. Ingalawa insisted likewise. She had brought along her scimitar and was prepared to use it if this foreign wizard proved to be treacherous. Uckermark, Log Jaris and the three Malud marauders also wanted to watch, since all had a
financial
interest in Justina’s survival.

Pelagius Zozimus had only the most honourable of intentions. Nevertheless, he knew parts of the exorcism might be misunderstood by these irritating onlookers. Lest misunderstanding lead to the loss of his head, Zozimus reinforced his position by having Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin, Guest Gulkan and Thayer Levant come into the exorcism chamber, where the Empress had been laid down upon Pakrw's bed.

Olivia slipped into the room with all the others because she did not wish to be parted from Chegory. The pair stood hand-in-hand in the hot, sweating crush of the heavy-breathing crowd of onlookers. One last person was there. Odolo. He was the one whom Binchinminfin had possessed in the first place. He wanted to see this thing out to the end.

Oh, and there was Shabble, of course - floating above everyone else and humming very, very gently.

All the onlookers were most curious to see how the exorcism would be conducted. Most thought they were about to see an expert at work. Well. . . they were and yet they weren’t.