Hugh Cook - The Wishstone and the Wonderworkers

‘I will give you a reasonable amount of time. But not infinite time. Do not try my patience.’

Then it withdrew.

From the cocoon, Olivia spoke. But not in her own voice. No: she used the accents of the conjuror Odolo. She was without doubt possessed by the perfidious Binchinminfin. ‘What is this thing?’ said Binchinminfin.

‘A cooker,’ said Chegory. ‘The Hermit Crab plans to incinerate your body.’

‘Oh,’ said Binchinminfin. ‘Then there’s not much I can do about it, is there?’

‘You must do something!’ said Chegory. ‘You’ll die if you don’t.’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Binchinminfin. ‘Most likely I’ll end up back where I started from. I didn’t think much of the place before I left it — but now I’m here I’m revising my opinion. I’m suffering from — what’s the word for it? Homesickness, that’s it!’

‘Then,’ said Chegory, ‘if you’re ready to go, why don’t you just, well, go!’

‘The death of my host is required,’ said Binchinminfin. ‘Let the Crab burn the body. I don’t need it any longer!’ ‘But — but it’s Olivia’s body! Olivia’s my — she — we — we’re in, well, not exactly that, but we — you can’t — uh-’ ‘Oh, don’t go on like that,’ said Binchinminfin. ‘There’s nothing I can do about it. I’m weak from too much psyche-hopping. It’s a dreadful strain, this jumping from mind to mind, from flesh to flesh. I can’t take much more of it.’

‘Then jump just once!’ said Chegory. ‘To — to Varazchavardan, say!’ He looked at the Harbour Bridge. There was no sign of the Master of Law, who must have reached the mainland. ‘Yes, Varazchavardan, go to him, you’d be safe then.’

‘Too far,’ said Binchinminfin.

‘Then — um — well, me. We’d be unconscious, of course, but, uh, the Crab, well, we’re old friends, okay, it won’t bum me.’

Thus did Chegory dare and bluff. He did have a faint hope of survival if the demon Binchinminfin took him over once again. After all, the Crab did owe Chegory something for all those long years of lunchtime waiterage. Chegory was, after all, the closest thing to a friend that the Crab had on Untunchilamon. He was prepared to run the risk. To sav e Olivia.

‘Actually/ said Binchinminfin, ‘if I came to you we wouldn’t be unconscious.’

‘Why not?' said Chegory.

‘Don't you know anything?’ said Binchinminfin. ‘No, I suppose you don’t. Very well! To put it in simple terms even an Ebrell Islander could understand, I have your mental register in my psychic concordance. First possessions are done by brute force. Reoccupations are smooth because I have the data to interlock my psyche with yours. You understand that, don’t you?’

‘What you’re saving, yes, yes, we’d not be unconscious, okay, I get that, okay, well, do it then, we could run, okay, get away, Shabble — Shabble, you’d help us, you would, wouldn’t you? ^ 5

‘Help?’ said Shabble. ‘Do something naughty, you mean? I can’t! Fd get into trouble.’

‘No you won’t/ said Chegory. ‘I’ll look after you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.’

‘Reallv?’ said Shabble. ‘Really and truly?’

‘Have I ever lied to you?’ said Chegory.

It was a persuasive argument. For Chegory never had lied to the lord of fight. Till now.

‘I’ll do it, Chegory,’ said Shabble.

Then, in moments, Chegory briefed Shabble on what he wanted.

‘Okay/ said Chegory, ‘we’re ready. You know what to do.’

‘I’d rather,’ said Binchinminfin, ‘that you did it.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Chegory.

‘I mean, this time I’m just along for the ride. At least at first. At least while we’re escaping.’

‘Okay, okay,’ said Chegory, glancing over his shoulder at the still-waiting Hermit Crab. ‘Whatever you want, fine, just do it, all right, we don’t have much time. Now!’

Then Chegory felt a momentary mental fuzziness. He said — and his voice was his own:

‘Well? Was that it? Are you aboard?’

Answer came there none.

But Olivia, still floating in the cocoon, looked at Chegory and said in her own sweet voice:

‘Chegory dearest, Chegory my darling, it’s gone, the thing’s in you and — and I love you, Chegory!’

‘I love you too,’ said Chegory. Then tried to reach her through the cocoon — but it resisted his hand even though it had freely allowed speech. Chegory resisted the temptation to swear. Then he looked to Shabble and said: ‘Okay! What are you waiting for? Off you go!’

Instantly Shabble soared high, high into the air. Moments later, the accents of the conjuror Odolo, monstrously amplified, roared from the heavens:

‘I AM THE DEMON BINCHINMINFIN! PREPARE TO MEET YOUR DOOM! ALL INJILTAPRAJURA WILL PERISH!’

To emphasise the point, the demon-imitating Shabble unleashed a firebolt which blasted apart rocks at the far end of the island of Jod. The Hermit Crab raised its claws. Unleashed fire in return. But Shabble side-slid, evading the fire easily. Already Chegory was sidling away to the harbour bridge.

He reached the bridge.

He began to jog along the bridge. The wooden planks thumped hollowly under his feet. There was no familiar rocking motion for the pontoons supporting the bridge were locked solid in the sea of dikle which carpeted the Laitemata.

Chegory was half-way along the bridge when the Hermit Crab’s frantically ineffectual efforts to blast its opponent from the heavens provoked an outburst of tremendous laughter from the high-floating Shabble. That gave the game away.

The Hermit Crab roared:

‘THAT’S YOU! SHABBLE! ISN’T IT? SO WHERE’S THE DEMON? CHEGORY GUY! WHERE ARE YOU? CHEGORY!!! I SEE YOU!’

Chegory broke into a headlong run.

‘COME BACK HERE! COME BACK OR I’LL BURN YOU ALIVE!’

The Hermit Crab unleashed a firebolt in warning. Timbers just ahead of Chegory burst into flame. Moments later, other firebolts struck. The bridge was ablaze all the way to the mainland. Chegory did not hesitate. He jumped to the right, jumped to the surface of the Laitemata.

Skraklunk!

Cracks shattered across the surface as Chegory impacted.

But the surface held.

For the moment.

He fled, his drumbeat footsteps pounding the dikle as he went haring for the shore. Then the dikle abruptly shattered to a fluid. Down went Chegory, into the sea. He floundered helplessly, trying to swim. Then found the firm footing beneath his heels. A horrible slimy ankle-deep ooze of shlug enveloped his ankles. But he could walk. Yes, he was neck-deep in a mixture of seawater and dikle, but he could still forge a way through to the mainland, now very close at hand.

The water shallowed. Became waist-deep. Then Chegory was at the bank of red coral and bloodstone mixed which bordered the waterfront. He glanced back at Jod. The Hermit Crab was on the shore, claw raised in fury. What to do?

Do or die!

Chegory took a deep breath, then scrambled from the water, hauled himself up the bank, then sprinted for the shelter of the nearest buildings.

He got there, and found himself still alive, still not incinerated. Still two arms, two legs, and — and something else which might one day be useful. He grinned with delight, with sheer exultation at merely being alive, then thumped himself on the chest and roared in triumph.

Then down from the heavens sped the all-observing Shabble, and shortly the childish one was alongside the still-retreating Chegory, bubbling over with excitement and boasting of Shabbleself’s feats most outrageously.

And on they went together.

‘Where now?’ said Chegory, when he was safely in Lubos.

‘Wherever you want, Chegory dearest,’ said Shabble.