Hugh Cook - The Wazir and the Witch

Then a frantic Jean Froissart intruded upon their conference in the greatest of panics imaginable.

‘They mean to kill me!’ babbled Froissart.

‘Get a grip on yourself,’ said Trasilika. ‘Sit down. Tell me all about it.’

Froissart then spilt out the most extraordinary tale. Master Ek, High Priest of Zoz the Ancestral, had named him as a human sacrifice for the Festival of Light!

‘You must stop him!’ said Froissart. ‘Use your powers as wazir to over-rule the High Priest or else!’

‘Or else what?’

‘Or else I’ll reveal you for what you are. A false wazir!’

‘But I’m not a false wazir,’ protested Trasilika. ‘I’m the real thing, appointed by Al’three himself.’

‘That makes no difference,’ said Froissart. ‘Only one person in five truly believes you. The rest will happily murder you if given the slightest excuse.’

Not for the first time, Manthandros Trasilika wished he was still back in Bolfrigalaskaptiko, that city of mud and mosquitoes which lies on the far-away Crocodile River, also known as the River Ka. Now, his sojourn in that place of marsh and fever seemed positively idyllic. However, he could not go back. He had not sailed from Manamalargo and the shores of Yestron on a whim. No: he had come to Untunchilamon on the direct orders of Aldarch the Third.

And APthree would be very, very unhappy with Trasilika if he failed to secure the rule of Untunchilamon for the Mutilator.

So Trasilika needs do whatever he must to maintain himself in authority.

Even if that meant going up against a High Priest of the religion so dear to the Mutilator’s heart.

‘I–I will order Master Ek that you are not to be sacrificed,’ said Trasilika.

‘Thank you,’ said Jean Froissart.

‘You thank him prematurely,’ said Justina Thrug.

‘What?’ said Trasilika. ‘Do you think Master Ek will dare to disobey me?’

‘He may,’ said Justina.

‘What makes you say that?’ said Trasilika.

The wazir and the witch stared at each other. Justina was thinking, thinking, thinking with greater concentration than ever before in her life. Master Ek had chosen Jean Froissart as a human sacrifice. So Ek wanted Froissart dead. So Ek did not believe that Froissart had passed his trial by ordeal thanks to divine intervention. So Ek thought Froissart to be a false priest, and Trasilika to be a false wazir. (Were they false? At this moment, for the life of her Justina could not tell.)

But ‘Have you lost your tongue?’ said Trasilika.

‘I expect to keep my tongue for longer than you will keep yours,’ said Justina, with great deliberation.

She was sweating. She hoped Trasilika would not notice. Even if he did, why — it was a hot day, and she was a fleshy woman much given to perspiration. So ‘Are you threatening me?’ said Trasilika ominously.

‘I believe,’ said Justina, ‘that it is Master Ek who is threatening you. He does so on good grounds. He knows the trial by ordeal was a fraud.’

‘But it wasn’t!’ objected Froissart. ‘I did it, I did it, I don’t know how but I did it, I picked up the red-hot iron, no magic salve, no nothing, none of your witchcraft, I did it myself.’

‘What you picked up,’ said Justina, ‘was Shabble.’ ‘Shabble?’ said

Froissart, momentarily nonplussed. ‘You have met,’ said Justina. ‘Sha bble escorted you ashore on your first day in Injiltaprajura. Remember? The melting of weapons, the-’

‘Oh, I remember,’ said Froissart. ‘Shabble is the ball, the floating ball.’

‘Yes,’ said Justina. ‘And it was Shabble who helped you pass your trial by ordeal.’

She explained.

While she did so, she thought furiously. Ek clearly intended to destroy Froissart, which suggested that Ek probably had Trasilika’s death in mind also. Trasilika, all unsuspecting, had sent his guards to the Temple of Torture, where they had come under Ek’s command. And Trasilika had sent away his ship. Or had he? If only she could find out!

‘… and,’ said Justina, concluding her tale, ‘Master Ek knows all about Shabble and the trial by ordeal. Just as I know why your ship has gone away and why your guards are in the Temple of Torture.’

Justina smiled, trying to look smug and knowing. This was a big gamble. If only ‘What do you know?’ said Trasilika. ‘Tell me!’

‘That,’ said Justina, bristling, ‘is scarcely the tone of voice to use with me.’

She was in a quandary. If she confessed that she did not really know why Trasilika’s guards and ships had left, then she would have to admit that she was effectively out of the political game, that she was powerless and friendless, and could be destroyed at Trasilika’s whim. (Assuming he could find men to destroy her, which should not prove an insurmountable problem.) If, on the other hand, she could persuade him that she knew, that she was privy to Master Ek’s decisions, that she was in fact in league with Master Ek — why then, by using such an illusion of power as leverage, she might be able to get Trasilika to help her recover the organic rectifier. Somehow.

‘You will tell me all you know,’ said Trasilika, with unsuppressed anger. ‘And now. Or else!’

Justina glanced at Log Jaris. Could he help her? Log Jaris winked. That wink said: I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’ll help if I can.

‘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!’