‘Log Jaris, my friend,’ said Justina, rising from the table. ‘It is time for us to go. Come. Master Ek will be getting impatient.’
‘Master Ek will be getting impatient,’ said Log Jaris, repeating Justina’s last words to cover his own confusion. ‘Yes, yes, no doubt he will. Very well. Then let us go.’
‘To Ek?’ said Trasilika. ‘Why are you going to Ek?’
‘To arrange for your execution,’ said Justina smoothly, launching herself upon the greatest bluff of her political career, a bluff of breathtaking audacity.
‘My execution!’ said Trasilika, scandalized.
‘Why, yes,’ said Justina. ‘He can’t kill you himself, can he? Not without proof of your falsehood. But I can.’ ‘You!’ said Trasilika. ‘B ut you-’
‘We can’t stop her,’ said Froissart. ‘Ek has our soldiers.’ So! No w Justina knew Manthandros Trasilika had not voluntarily sent his guar ds to Master Ek at the Temple of Torture. Rather, those men had been s tolen away by Master Ek. That was all she needed.
‘Yes,’ said she. ‘Your ship is gone, and your guards are no longer yours to command. You’re helpless. This is what will happen. The soldiers will pretend to mutiny against Master Ek. Under my command, they will loot and pillage. They will also chop off your head. Then Master Ek will make himself wazir of Untunchilamon. Whether you are a fraud or a real wazir appointed by Aldarch the Third makes no difference, for Ek himself will be innocent of all violence against your person. But I-’
‘My lady,’ said Log Jaris in vehement protest, ‘it is unwise to spill our secrets to this thing. His life is doomed so-’
‘Quiet!’ said Justina, doing her best to pretend she was angry with the bullman’s interjection. ‘As I was saying, Ek will appear innocent, for all the blame will fall on me.’
‘Then you’ll be killed,’ said Trasilika.
‘Sharked in the lagoon,’ said Froissart. ‘Or chopped into catmeat.’
‘No,’ said Justina sweetly. ‘I will escape to the north and live happily ever after in the court of Jal Japone. I have a standing invitation from that formidable warlord. He will give me shelter whenever I want for as long as I want. Master Ek has promised me safe passage out of Injiltaprajura, you see, as soon as you are dead.’
‘He’s lying,’ said Trasilika desperately. ‘You can’t trust him!’
‘I have to,’ said Justina. ‘I have no alternative. Unless I can recover the organic rectifier.’
‘The what?’ said Trasilika.
‘The organic rectifier,’ said Justina. ‘It is a device which can c hange the form of the flesh one inhabits. It could make a man into a c rab. Or a crab into a man.’ ‘And you think that would somehow solve yo ur problems?’ said Trasilika. ‘How so?’
‘Because,’ said Justina, ‘with this organic rectifier, I could change the Crab of the island of Jod into a human. Once so changed, the Crab in gratitude would grant me all I wished. It would extend its mercy to you, I’m sure, if you were to help us recover this organic rectifier.’
‘Where is it?’ said Trasilika.
‘Ek has it,’ said Justina. ‘It is in the Temple of Torture.’
‘Then he’ll never give it up!’ said Trasilika. ‘Not if he knows how important it is.’
‘Ah,’ said Justina. ‘But he doesn’t know. He only suspects. I have told him the thing is a skavamareen, an ancient musical instrument. He doesn’t quite believe me, but he doesn’t necessarily disbelieve, either.’
‘So… so what do you suggest?’ said Trasilika.
Justina smiled. And this time there was nothing feigned about that smile.
She had successfully convinced Manthandros Trasilika that she was Master Ek’s ally, and that Ek intended to use her as an instrument for perpetrating the perfect murder, the victim of this murder to be Trasilika himself. She had created the illusion she needed to give her political leverage. And now she was using this leverage to force Trasilika to make an alliance with her against Master Ek.
‘I suggest,’ said Justina, ‘that you order the organic rectifier to be released.’
‘Ek will not release it,’ said Trasilika positively. ‘If he thinks there’s one chance in a thousand that the thing could make the Crab into a human, he’ll never let it go.’
‘Even so,’ said Justina, ‘we should try. For there is at least one chance in a thousand that Ek might yield the thing to us without a fuss. In which case, our problems will be over.’
‘And if he does not?’ said Trasilika.
‘Then we must take it from him,’ said Justina.
‘But how?’ said Trasilika. ‘My ship is gone, my guards have been bribed away, and you… well, you have no fighting force, have you?’
‘We can try to scratch together a force of some description,’ said Justina. ‘Remember, we are not trying to conquer Untunchilamon. All we have to do is get the organic rectifier from Injiltaprajura to the island of Jod.’ ‘Might it not be simpler,’ said Froissart, ‘to get the Crab to exert its powers to bring the rectifier to the shores of Jod?’
‘Yes,’ said Trasilika. ‘If the organic rectifier is what you say it is and does what you say it does, why shouldn’t the Crab lend us its aid?’
‘Jod is under quarantine,’ said Log Jaris. ‘The quarantine is not perfect. Any soul brave enough to swim the Laitemata by night could gain an audience with the Crab. But… many people have lied to the Crab in the past for their own advantage. It is not likely to believe us or help us unless we present it with the organic rectifier itself.’ ‘Well,’ said Trasilika, ‘you want me to ask Ek for the return of the organic rectifier, even though you admit there’s little chance that he’ll agree. Isn’t it equally reasonable to send someone to petition the Crab? Even if the chances of the Crab agreeing are minimal?’
Justina looked at Log Jaris.
Log Jaris looked at Justina.
Then the bullman sighed, and said:
‘I will swim the Laitemata tonight. Sharks and seasnakes permitting, I’ll have an answer from the Crab by the morrow.’
‘Very well,’ said Trasilika. ‘We’ll meet again first thing tomorrow to see what the Crab says. But suppose we get refused by both Ek and the Crab? Suppose we have to fight it out? What then? Who will fight with us?’ ‘Varazchavardan,’ said Justina. ‘Aquitaine Varazchavardan. He’s a powerful sorcerer. He fears that Aldarch the Third will execute him because he was long in my service. Then there’s Nixorjapretzel Rat, who was once Varazchavardan’s apprentice. Perhaps Varazchavardan can persuade Jan Rat to our cause.’
‘Two sorcerers will hardly win us a victory against the combined powers of the Cabal House,’ said Trasilika.
‘If the wonder-workers run true to form,’ rumbled Log Jaris, ‘the first hint of trouble will see them board themselves up in that Cabal House until all the danger’s over. Besides, there are others who will fight for the Empress. Myself included.’
‘Even so,’ said Trasilika, ‘I don’t see how a couple of sorcerers and a handful of loyalists can storm the Temple of Torture. We need me n in force. There are none such.’ ‘There is always Jal Japone,’ said J ustina.
‘Japone?’ said Froissart in astonishment. ‘You mean — the warlord?’
‘Who else?’ said Justina. ‘There are some loyal Ebrell Islanders w ho would doubtless serve me as ambassadors if I asked them to. Dunash Labrat is one such man.’ ‘Labrat?’ said Trasilika. ‘I’ve never heard o f him.’
‘You wouldn’t have,’ said Justina, ‘for he is but a bee keeper and a maker of mead. However, he knows Jal Japone well, for he sheltered with the warlord when Wazir Sin was waging a pogrom against the Ebrell Islanders in Injiltaprajura.’
‘Why should Japone help us?’ said Trasilika suspiciously.
‘We will offer him much in the name of the Crab,’ said Justina. ‘We will offer him a monopoly on all liquor sales in Injiltaprajura from here to eternity. That bribe should be sufficient to guarantee his compliance.’
‘All right,’ said Trasilika decisively. ‘We’ll do it. First I’ll ask Ek for the organic rectifier. If he won’t hand it over, we’ll storm the Temple of Torture and take it. Once you’ve won us men from Jal Japone.’