The Wishstone and the Wonderworkers (39 page)

‘I am reluctantly dismissing the charges of keeping an unmuzzled dragon within the city limits, of displaying a dragon with intent to terrorise and of allowing a dragon to come in close proximity to alcohol. To my deep regret, the law is clear. For the purpose of the relevant clauses a dragon is strictly defined as an imperial dragon, land dragon or sea dragon. The corpse master Uckermark has testified that dissection proves your alleged creation to be none of these three, hence while it is obviously a dragon of some description it is not a dragon for the purposes of the law. It may however be a dog, but that seems doubtful - so the alternative charges of keeping, displaying and allowing a dog are also struck out.

‘A charge of transforming yourself into a beast of terror is also dismissed, as are the accusations of witchcraft, illegal hypnotism, heresy, insult general to a public religion and striking fear into the heart of the Empress. The last charge cannot be sustained since our beloved Empress is the daughter of a Yudonic Knight and is known to be fearless.’ By now both Justina and Odolo were smiling on the judge. But the eminent Qil was not finished. He continued: ‘However, Odolo, on many counts a
prima facie
case has been established against you.’

The conjuror cringed. The very vraisemblance of cowardice incarnate. The judge onspake remorselessly:

‘Therefore I am committing you to trial on two charges of high treason, three of middle treason, one of low treason and a half-charge of sub-treason. You will also be tried on charges of revolution, waging war against the state, attempted murder, practising generative magic without a licence, littering, common insolence, disorderly conduct, and conduct prejudicial to civil discipline.’

The last charge was the most dangerous because, as virtually anything anyone does can be construed as conduct prejudicial to civil discipline, it is near impossible to launch an effective defence against such a charge. This is why in my own case I had to plead temporary insanity when— [The Originator here presents us with an extended plea in mitigation to explain the conduct of his own life. This has been deleted on the grounds that it is (a) indecent and (b) libellous. Scholars who inspect the unexpurgated text of the original manuscript will doubtless agree that there is nothing temporary about the Originator’s insanity.
Srin Gold, Commentator Extraordinary
.]

The judge concluded by saying:

‘Have you anything to say?’

‘Yes!’ said Odolo. ‘That I’m innocent!’ Then he turned to the Empress Justina to cry: ‘My lady! Have mercy! I beg you!’

Odolo’s guards roughed him to silence. Justina studied him. Then, with a faint smile on her lips, she said: ‘Should I have mercy? Who will advise me? No, Varazchavardan -I can guess your counsel already.’ She turned to Chegory Guy. Her smile deepened. ‘Let’s try... let’s try advice from another source. Pray tell, what would an Ebrell Islander do?’

Even though there were but few people in the Star Chamber, an audible murmur of outrage ran round that Chamber when thus the Empress spoke. Even Chegory himself was shocked. He slumped down in his chair. Cringing. Pretending he was invisible. Pretending he was asleep. But, as a guard was already poking him with a scimitar, he rapidly realised this strategy could not succeed. Reluctandy, he got to his feet to say:

‘It is not for an Ebrell Islander to dispose of the lives and laws of the free citizens of Untunchilamon.’

‘Nonsense!’ said Justina. ‘All citizens are equal under law, are they not? Lawyers are but citizens like the rest, yet venture to give me advice on a daily basis. If lawyers, then why not you?’

‘Because—’ ventured Varazchavardan.

‘Silence, Vazzy!’ said the Empress in a head-chopping voice. ‘It’s far too hot for argument. Let’s hear the boy speak.’

Varazchavardan ventured no more, but waited for Chegory to give them the benefit of his wisdom. As did everyone. They waited and they watched. Chegory wanted to vanish. To disappear in a clap of thunder and a puff of smoke. To run and run and run and never be seen in Injiltaprajura again. For whatever he said was bound to be wrong. He was totally exposed. Totally vulnerable. Worse—

Whatever he said, did or tried he was sure to remain visible, exposed and vulnerable. Famous, in a word. For the last couple of days had won him so much notoriety that he would never again be able to pretend he was a rock. His days of safety were over, so doubtless his deathday lay very close in the future.

Then Chegory was seized by inspiration. He turned to Varazchavardan to say:

‘Uh, I’m not, um, how do I say this, well, I’m not, I am not of the Wise, okay, thus seek the help of the Wise. Help of the Master of Law. Varazchavardan the, uh, honourable. We don’t know each other but maybe we could. Know each other, I mean. If he could help me just a bit with this, uh, legal thing, I’d, well, whatever I could help him with I would.’

Chegory was doing his best. He was trying to say:

‘Dear Varazchavardan, you whom I love and respect above all other men, forget you ever saw me with the mad pirates who tried to kidnap you Downstairs. Forget that. Remember instead that I’m the latest imperial favourite. My friendship could be worth having. So do me a favour. Help me out.’

Considering how much he could not say outright he managed (or thought he managed) to get quite a lot of this across. He was most pleased with his eloquent little speech. But was Varazchavardan pleased? The worm-white albino regarded the blood-red Ebby in silence. While the Master of Law never later discussed what he was thinking at that time, we can deduce his thoughts effortlessly, and with a high degree of probability.

Doubdess Varazchavardan reflected on Chegory’s Ebrell origin, with its implications in terms of a natural affinity for death-liquor in all its manifestations. This Ebby looked young enough, fast enough, tough enough. A knife-capable young man. Who (for the moment) had the ear of the Empress herself. An ally potent. An enemy dangerous. Thus (doubdess) Varazchavardan thought.

Then said:

‘I welcome this pledge of allegiance from the young Ebrell Islander. I have oft thought that we underestimate the capabilities of our red-skinned friends. I will welcome the opportunity to talk with him in private hereafter.’

On hearing this, Chegory sat back in his chair with a feeling of sweet release and relief. He had done it! He had turned the wrath of Varazchavardan away from himself. He had turned an enemy into an ally. He was very pleased with himself. But he had no time for extended self-congratulation, for Varazchavardan was onspeaking still. Chegory had missed part of his speech, but realised it concerned Odolo:

‘. . . would be the consequences of extending mercy before trial? Surely a key function of the law is to determine the truth. Once the truth is known then we can contemplate mercy. But mercy now would be a sorry blow to the determination of truth. Hence I say this.’

Varazchavardan paused for breath, but did not proceed to say this. Or that. Or the other. For he was interrupted by the arrival of Dolglin Chin Xter, who had not been seen in public since the dragon manifested itself in the banqueting hall of the pink palace. Yes - Dolglin Xter. Have you forgotten him? Already!? Then do not tell him, or he will be mortally offended! Remember, you were properly introduced. Dolglin Chin Xter! Head of Justina’s Inquisition into drug pushing on Untunchilamon! Remember now?

Xter is the one who is as yellow as the flesh of a mango, thanks to the disease which has him in its grip. Why he is not dead of hepatitis is a mystery. Why sweat pours from his skin is a mystery also, but a lesser one; heat, hepatitis and malaria may all have something to do with it. As for his shaking hand - why, that may well be the fear-palsy. For the Inquisitor has committed himself to a potentially lethal course: a public confrontation with Varazchavardan.

Dolglin Chin Xter, then.

That is who he is (or was - he may be dead by now) and here is what he said:

‘Have I leave to speak?’

Not the most dramatic of things to say. After the build-up above you may well think it bathotic. If so, blame history, not me. This is but a record of events, and of words spoken in the course of events, and one cannot righdy distort history for the sake of drama. Doubtless it would have been more satisfactory (from a dramatic point of view) if Dolglin Xter had burst into the Star Chamber shouting thus:

‘Varazchavardan, you foul demonic blotch of blood! You, most evil and most blood-greedy of a brood of scorpions! It is you who I accuse, for you have been discovered! All is known! Prepare to meet your doom!’

However, Dolglin Xter did not speak thus. What he actually did say (‘Have I leave to speak?’) was the right and appropriate thing to say under the circumstances, for even an inquisitor cannot interrupt a depositions hearing in the Star Chamber with impunity.

Thus did the Empress Justina reply:

‘Of course, Dolly my darling. Speak on for as long as you wish.’

But Dolglin Chin Xter at first did not speak at all. Instead, yellow Xter ominous looked left to right and around, then pegged his gaze on Varazchavardan.

[
Translator’s Note
: Here the syntax and vocabulary of the Original are obscure in the extreme. This temporary Version must serve until scholarship has given us a definitive Interpretation.]

Then Xter did begin to speak, saying:

‘Here the best minds of Untunchilamon sit in solemn ceremony, considering the case of the conjuror Odolo.’ Why did he say that? Everyone present knew as much. He was only stating the obvious. Doubtless his legal training was to blame. Yes, Xter was something of a lawyer, and nine-tenths of the practice of law is to win economic advantage by laboriously stating and restating the obvious in order to delay the resolution of the matter at hand so that the attendant legal fees may be increased to a level commensurate with lawyerly greed.

Fortunately, since Xter was very ill, the pressures of physical disability curtailed the loquacity to which his training had predisposed him, and he thereafter got down to business instanter:

‘Some would say that justice is thereby served. But I would beg to differ. This trial is a nonsense.

‘It is a nonsense to accuse Odolo of creating a dragon at banquet. For such powers of creation are vested in only the greatest. Odolo is but a prestigitator whose sole skill lies in manual manipulation. What lunacy could make anyone think this idle entertainer could have created a dragon?

‘The true villain is another person altogether. Aquitaine Varazchavardan! Yes, Varazchavardan made that dragon. He made it in an attempt to kill me. Why? Because my Inquisition was on the brink of proving his guilt. Now we have proved it! The last evidence has been obtained! Varazchavardan is a drug dealer!’

Dolglin Chin Xter paused. Not for dramatic effect, but to recover his breath. Nevertheless, while his motives for the pause were mundane, the effect was dramatic in the extreme.

The pause gave Chegory the chance to curse himself for erring most dreadfully. When he had met Varazchavardan Downstairs under inauspicious circumstances the wonderworker had not been supervising a raid on an illegal warehouse - no, he had been the proprietor of that warehouse!

The albinotic one was filth of the worst order, a fiend from the legions of the damned. He was one of those monsters who traffic in the most abominable drugs imaginable, drugs which cause insanity, cancer and death! The sorcerer was a callous, unprincipled brute who sold alcohol - evil of evils! — to enrich himself and glut his greed for worldly wealth. Yet Chegory had tried to pact with him.

With incredibly bad timing, Chegory had declared himself for Varazchavardan just before the man was revealed as a master criminal. His error was compounded by the fact that he had done so in public. In front of the Empress! In front of Olivia and Ingalawa both! Somehow, he had to extricate himself from this mess. To repudiate Varazchavardan. Quickly! But how?

Before he could think on it further, Xter continued:

‘Aquitaine Varazchavardan, in my capacity as Inquisitor General I order you to be suspended from all official duties and placed under arrest. You—’

‘You’re mad!’ said Varazchavardan. ‘I refuse to be suspended by a madman! He’s a lunatic, a crazy, a blue banana.’

‘Guards!’ shouted Xter, pointing at Varazchavardan. ‘Seize him!’

Those guards who placed their trust in Dolglin Chin Xter advanced upon Varazcavardan, who repeated his accusations of insanity:

‘He’s mad, mad! Seize him! Not me! Him!’

Those guards loyal to Varazchavardan closed in on Dolglin Chin Xter.

It was all on!

The Empress Justina was on her feet. Shouting something. But what? Her voice was lost in the uproar as roaring guards charged Xter and Varazchavardan both. Smoke of many colours boiled up around the two embattled sorcerers. The guards disappeared into the smoke. From that roiling pother came shouts and snarls, cries and screams. Slowly outcry' gave way to coughing as smoke subdued the mob.

‘Stop!’ commanded Justina. ‘Stop fighting! Now!’

She had a formidable pair of lungs. She was obeyed. Or appeared to be obeyed. In fact, combat ended because both sorcerers had disposed of the guards sent against them. Smoke cleared. Revealing the two wonderworkers. Who stood on guard with smoke still dribbled from their fingertips. Around them lay groaning guards in various states of disrepair. Nobody had been killed - a very miracle indeed!