Hugh Cook: The Wazir and the Witch

‘You,’ said Justina, seizing Pelagius Zozimus and shaking him. ‘Don’t just stand there. Do something!’

‘Do what?’ said Zozimus.

‘You’re a wizard, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Zozimus. ‘A wizard with the power to animate corpses. Do you see any raw material for my work?’

‘Stand ready!’ said Juliet Idaho, bracing himself for combat. ‘I’ll soon give you all the raw material you need.’

Then those coming up the stairs burst out on to the roof.

The corpse-master Uckermark was in the lead, and Idaho almost took off his head with a swordstroke before he saw who it was. Uckermark was carrying a wickerwork cage, and Shabble bobbed bright-shining at Uckermark’s shoulder.

Uckermark’s hard-bitten woman, Yilda of the many conflicts, followed him on to the roof. Then came the bullman Log Jaris and his helpmate Molly.

‘Is there anyone else?’ said Idaho.

‘This is all of us,’ said Uckermark.

‘Well, that doesn’t give me many to choose from,’ said Idaho.

‘What are you talking about?’ said Uckermark.

‘Our wizard friend here requires a corpse,’ said Uckermark, indicating Zozimus. ‘Only by means of such can he unleash his power.’

‘That’s enough!’ said Justina sharply. Then she looked hard at Zozimus. ‘Are you all right?’ she said. ‘You look ill.’

‘I-’

But Zozimus said no more, for he began to Change. He shrivelled and shrank, and he outflourished fur as he shrank. Moments later, where the wizard had been, there was nothing but a wriggling loin cloth. Bro Drumel’s corpse staggered then collapsed. Then a gerbil struggled free from the loin cloth, and sat on its hind legs chittering furiously.

‘Oh!’ said Olivia. ‘A hampster. How cute!’

The gerbil glared at her in fury. Its eyes were bloodshot with berserk fury, and, in its rage, it pawed at the roof like a bull trying to ruck apart a paddock with its hooves. Olivia failed to heed these warning signs. Instead, with one cherishing finger she ventured to stroke the gerbil behind the ears.

The gerbil bit her.

‘Yowl’ said Olivia.

‘Olivia!’ said the Empress Justina. ‘We’ve no time for games! And don’t drop my dragon! Now listen, all of you. We must leave immediately. For Zolabrik.’

‘We must leave, yes,’ said Uckermark. ‘But not for Zolabrik. We’re leaving by air.’

‘Are you blind?’ said Justina. ‘The airship’s destroyed! Look!’

Uckermark laughed.

‘Look yourself,’ said he. ‘Look for Xtokobrokotok.’ Justina resisted the temptation to swear at him. She deigned to look out across the city to the warehouses of Marthandorthan. She located Xtokobrokotok, most notorious of all the buildings in that dockland quarter. On the rooftop, a solitary figure was hauling a tarpaulin from a ‘Oh,’ said Justina in surprise.

Now all was explained. Now she knew why Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin had only worked for half the day at the pink palace, and had never seemed to have much enthusiasm for the work he did there.

‘That’s all very well,’ said Juliet Idaho, observing the gigantic bird’s nest which stood atop Xtokobrokotok, waiting for the wizard Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin to send it whirling into the air. ‘But the Cabal House has destroyed two airships already. They can destroy a third as easily.’

‘Shabble,’ said Uckermark. ‘Now!’

Shabble hummed with excitement as Shabble went bobbing upwards. Then fire flashed forth from Shabble, and the upper storey of the Cabal House exploded into flame.

‘Ouch!’ said Justina.

She did not think Uckermark was being at all wise in persuading Shabble thus to join the wars of humanity. But she had to admit the manoeuvre served the needs of the moment.

When she looked again, Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin had got his bird’s nest into the air, and it was whirling through the sultry sunlight toward them. It rose up, up, up into the air, then whirled downward, almost clipping the glitter dome as its shadow spun across the roof of the pink palace, its substance speaking to the world thus:

Thubber lubber dubber — ffft!

All ducked as the huge thing swept overhead, nearly taking their heads off. It slewed sideways, lurched to an abrupt halt in mid-air, then gyrated backwards until it was spinning in the air directly overhead. Then it descended. Justina grabbed the still-chittering gerbil and dived for safety just before the bird’s nest landed with a hideous grating sound accompanied by an upfling of dust.

‘All aboard!’ cried Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin, looking down from above.

Yilda was already scrambling up the side of the airship. The others followed, the gerbil being passed from hand to hand as Justina was hauled aboard. As the refugees came aboard, they seated themselves in the bottom of the airship like so many fledglings in a huge bird’s next.

‘Hurry up, Julie!’ cried the Empress Justina.

‘But,’ cried Juliet Idaho, who was still standing on the palace roof, ‘we haven’t killed anyone yet!’

‘Julie!’ said Justina. ‘I’m giving you a direct order! Get inside! Now!’

Juliet Idaho scrambled aboard. As he sought for a place to sit, he almost crushed the wickerwork cage which Uckermark had brought aboard.

‘Careful!’ said Uckermark. ‘Don’t sit on that!’

‘Why not?’ said Idaho.

‘Have you no eyes?’ said Uckermark. ‘Look! The Holy Cockroach dwells within.’

Juliet Idaho looked, and saw that it was true.

‘So what?’ said Idaho.

‘Holy is the Cockroach and hallowed is His name,’ intoned Shabble. ‘Accursed are those who would desecrate His presence.’

Then a trifling tongue of flame flickered forth from the quick-dancing Shabble. Juliet Idaho took the hint, and seated himself against the branch-bumpy wall of the flying nest.

‘Where is my cousin?’ said Sken-Pitilkin.

‘Your cousin?’ said Justina.

‘The great lord Zozimus,’ said Sken-Pitilkin.

‘Oh!’ said Justina. ‘You mean your brother. Here he is!’

And she held up the frantically-struggling gerbil.

Sken-Pitilkin could not help himself.

He laughed.

‘Sera — sera — sera — skrik!’ shrilled the gerbil.

‘I think he’s angry,’ said Chegory.

‘I know he’s angry,’ said Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin. ‘But there’s no helping that. Hold on tight! It’s time to fly.’

‘Do you hear that?’ said Justina to her gerbil. ‘We’re going to fly. Don’t be frightened now. You’ll be all right. I’ll take care of you.’

Then she kissed the little thing. The gerbil tried to savage her lips, but she was too quick for it.

Then Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin raised his hands and shouted a Word.

Nothing happened.

Nothing?

A jar toppled from a shelf in the kitchen below. A star exploded in a galaxy five billion luzacs distant. In another cosmos altogether, a horse gave birth to a unicorn. But all of those occurrences may have been pure coincidence.

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.