Hugh Cook - The Wishstone and the Wonderworkers

It was Olivia’s scream.

On the instant, his laughter ceased. He got to his feet and charged outside, snatching up a corpse hook as he ran. He had visions of the dragon, expanded by magic to gigantic size, attacking his darling Olivia in the street. But when he leapt through the billowing fumes from the smoke pots and gained the street, there was no monster to be seen. Only Olivia herself, still shaking from shock. On seeing the tiny dragon, she had momentarily thought herself insane.

There are, after all, no dragons so small which fly. The fabled land dragons of Argan are much larger even when fresh-hatched from the egg. As for the imperial dragons of Yestron, these grow to the size of dogs before they became aviators, while sea dragons never fly at all.

Wordlessly, Olivia fell into Chegory’s arms. Considering the length of time the Ebrell Islander had spent in the corpse shop it is fortunate indeed that the fumes from the smoke pots subdued all other odours.

Chegory and his true love clung to each other in the street until Ingalawa came up behind them.

‘Break it up, children!’ she said.

From the way she spoke, it was clear she was still angry.

‘Okay,’ said Chegory, breaking it up. Then, to Olivia, who was still tearful: ‘Come inside. Come in, and I’ll get you a cup of water.’

So in they went. But as soon as the two Ashdan females entered the corpse shop Chegory knew he had made a dreadful mistake, for Olivia’s wide-wrenched mouth and startled eyes betrayed both shock and disgust. Said the eyes: in all my life this is the very worst place in which I have ever been, a veritable soulhell. Said the eyes, with eloquence: what has my poor Chegory come to? How did he manage to fall so far so fast? Said the mouth: I’m going to be sick.

Worse, when Chegory handed Olivia some water, she could not drink it. She gagged. The cup slipped from her hand. She fled. Chegory pursued her outside, and was comforting her still when Log Jaris lumbered into the street to join them in the sunlight. His black bullfur shone with sunsheen. The pale ivory of his horns gleamed in the light of day’s great luminary. The two young lovers lived in his eyes as miniature reflections. Olivia looked at this obscene creature, this mutant abomination, then hid her face in Chegory’s shoulder.

‘Are you ready to go?’ said Log Jaris.

A couple of flies settled on his nostrils. He waved them away. They dizzied upwards, one settling on his larboard horn.

‘Go?’ said Ingalawa angrily. ‘Where would you be thinking of going? Where are you taking Chegory Guy? And why? Explain yourself!’

‘I’m not taking him anywhere,’ said Log Jaris. ‘It’s Uckermark who’s taking him.’

‘We have to go to the palace,’ said Chegory, trying to explain. ‘A, um, a depositions hearing, that’s what it’s all about. That’s why we’re going.’

‘A depositions hearing!’ said Ingalawa. ‘Are you guilty? Have you got a lawyer? What have you done?’

‘I’ve done nothing!’ said Chegory.

‘Oh, that’s what you all say!’ retorted Ingalawa. ‘But you were mixed up in that riot, weren’t you? That riot at the treasury? And where were you all yesterday? And all last night? Here? Doing what? Whatever it was, why didn’t you show yourself at the Dromdanjerie today? Or at Jod?’ ‘Look,’ said Chegory, ‘it’s complicated, okay?’ ‘Complicated?’ said Ingalawa. ‘What’s complicated about it?’

‘All kinds of things,’ said Chegory. ‘Varazchavardan, that sorcerer, you know, okay? He’s got — we — we had this like kind of run in so now I want to keep out of his way, okay? So he’d look for me in the Dromdanjerie, okay, or at Jod, where I live, where I work. But he doesn’t know about the corpse shop, or I thought he didn’t, though maybe he does. And this — these — those soldiers Shabble burnt, they might still be looking for me so I don’t want to be found. Because I’m, okay, maybe technically some kind of escaped prisoner, but I’ve, um-’

‘You’ve got yourself in a mess,’ said Ingalawa. ‘If you’re trying to hide from soldiers or from Varazchavardan then what’re you doing going to the palace? They’ll easily catch you!’

Chegory reacted violendy. The more so because the illogic of his position had already been exposed by the delivery of the summons. The corpse shop was no hideaway!

‘So tough!’ said he. ‘So I tried, okay? Uncaught all yesterday, all last night. Last day of my life, last night maybe. But maybe not. I’ll be okay up at the palace because, uh, the Empress, she likes me, trusts me.’

‘The boy’s deluded!’ said Ingalawa. ‘If you had the trust of the Empress you wouldn’t be going on trial for whatever it is you’ve done.’

‘I’m not on trial!’ said Chegory.

‘But you just said you were,’ said Ingalawa.

This was so unreasonable that Chegory was tempted to hit her. Then Uckermark came out into the sunlight and, speaking over Ingalawa’s wrath, said:

‘Our young friend from the Ebrells is charged with nothing. Guilty of many things he doubtless is, but he lives innocent of all charges. He is but attending a depositions hearing as a witness.’

‘In what kind of case?’ said Ingalawa.

‘A case of high treason,’ said Uckermark.

‘What a thing to get mixed up in!’ said Ingalawa, in tones of condemnation.

She was making Chegory feel as if he had done something wrong. He reminded himself that in point of fact he had been strenuously virtuous throughout his recent troubles. It made no difference. Ingalawa still made him feel soiled, contaminated, guilty. How did she do it? Easily, easily. Whenever he was in her presence, her air of effortless superiority automatically put him at a disadvantage.

Chegory, boiling with murderous resentment, almost said what he thought, but restrained himself. This took heroic effort, for, despite his recent sleep, he was as tired as the fly which flew to the moon. Waiting around in the corpse shop had scarcely helped him recover from his recent traumas. Instead, it had given him unlimited opportunity to worry about the mess he had got himself into and all the people who might be after his blood.

‘So,’ said Ingalawa, ‘how did you get mixed up in a treason trial?’

‘We can go into that later,’ said Chegory.

‘Chegory,’ said Ingalawa sharply, ‘I think you’d better tell us what’s going on right now. In detail.’

Chegory looked at Uckermark helplessly. What wasn’t going on? He was in so many kinds of trouble it would have taken all morning to catalogue them. But he had tried so hard to be good! To be an exemplary citizen!

‘Chegory?’ said Ingalawa, questioning his silence.

‘I don’t know where to begin,’ said Chegory.

‘Then start by telling us what you’re doing. Here. With these — these people. Are you in some kind of trouble?’ The woman was being so obtuse! How could he not be in trouble? Chegory had striven strenuously to remain reticent, but now found words pouring out wrath-hot and burning, like a torrent of molten wax:

‘Trouble! Of course I’m in trouble! I wanted to go back to Jod, when Ox first warned us I wanted to go back, but you wouldn’t have it on. Oh no, you said, don’t run away. It’s your right, you said. You’re a citizen, you said. You’ve got the law on your side. Oh, all right for you to speak!

‘But then what happens? That lunatic Shabble gets us all in the shit and we all get arrested then the guards come back and then what? Oh you stay put, it’s no trouble for you, but I get dragged off to the palace.

‘And then what? Oh, nothing much. Just riots, breakouts, mad wizards, monsters, drug dealers. And Varazchavardan, oh I could be here all day just telling you about Varazchavardan. And then what? The palace, and that mad bitch Justina trying to rape me, then the dragon, there was a dragon in the palace and I nearly got killed.