The Wishstone and the Wonderworkers (57 page)

Yet it had not done so. Thus Chegory babbled all the faster. Hoping and thinking. Or - let us be realistic, now, and remember that it is an Ebrell Islander we are dealing with - at least trying to think.

‘Look,’ said Chegory, ‘look, look, please don’t, you can’t, you - you mustn’t, I, I’ll - hell! - just give me a moment, okay, that’s all I ask, just one moment, please - come on, okay? Just a moment to talk with - well, with that. Olivia. The demon. Whatever.’

‘Talk would be of no consequence,’ said the Hermit Crab. ‘Stand back! It will get hot!’

By now the warning had been twice-repeated, suggesting to Chegory that the Crab had ethical reservations about incinerating an innocent Ebrell Islander along with the demon-possessed Ashdan. So Chegory moved closer.

‘Talk would be of consequence,’ he insisted, with that bloody-minded stubbornness for which the Ebrell Islanders are so famous. ‘There’s - there’s secret strategies. That’s what it is. Negotiating strategies. A special secret. Family secret. I can’t tell you more. Oaths and all that, you know. I’m sworn to secrecy. But I can fake out the demon, I know it. Just give me a few moments alone with Olivia. In private. That’s all I ask.’

‘You mean,’ said the Crab, ‘you have a method whereby the demon can be persuaded to banish itself?’

‘Exactly!’ said Chegory.

‘That is very - very interesting,’ said the Crab. ‘If you let me learn the method then I will let you try it.’

‘I can’t tell you!’ said Chegory desperately. ‘I’ve sworn an oath! I can’t tell!’

‘So,’ mused the Crab, ‘you’ve sworn an oath not to tell. Very well. Then let me listen.’

‘No, no,’ said Chegory. ‘I can’t, I can’t, you’d - you’d upset the demon. I bet it’s scared of you, really, you’re so strong, and, um, look, I’ve been good to you, haven’t I? All these years, I mean, I brought you lunches, didn’t I? Okay, it was buckets and all, that’s not good enough, I see that now
^T
, but who else was there, okay? And - and I did ask if you wanted anything. I did ask. I was your friend, wasn’t I?’

Silence.

Then, from Chegory:

‘Wasn’t I?’

The Crab sighed.

‘I’ll let you talk to Olivia,’ it said. ‘But I must have a means of learning what took place. If you truly do have a method for banishing demons then I must learn it. There is so little which is new which is worth learning. So... let Shabble stand within earshot. You have sworn an oath not to tell. Very well. Don’t tell! But let Shabble listen. Then Shabble can tell me hereafter.’

‘That... that’s okay,’ said Chegory weakly. Then, looking round: ‘Shabble? Shabble! Where are you, Shabble?’

‘Up here, Chegory darling,’ sang Shabble.

‘Then come down!’

Within the free-floating cocoon, Olivia was stirring. As Shabble joined young Chegory, the Hermit Crab opened and closed its claws with further formidable clicks, then said:

‘Clear the island. Everyone - go. Into the Institute. No, Zozimus, get back, I don’t want to talk to you. Or you, Pokrov. Off you go! Vanish! Yourself likewise, Ingalawa.’ This clearance took quite some time for there were some very strong-willed humans among the onlookers. But, after renewed threats and a minor demonstration of force (two rocks melted to slag by the Crab) the last of the spectators retreated into the Analytical Institute. Chegory was left alone under the burning sun with Shabble, the Hermit Crab and the cocooned Olivia. The Crab said:

‘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.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

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

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

‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ said Chegory. ‘I’m talking to Binchinminfin, okay, this demon-thing. Well, how about it? Where from now?’

But if the demon heard, it answered not.

Unfortunately, this left Chegory in quite a fix.

On the island of Jod there was the furious Hermit Crab, which might well destroy Chegory out of hand the next time it saw him. But on the mainland were the forces of the wonderworkers, led by the unpleasant Aquitaine Varazchavardan, who might prove every bit as dangerous as the Crab if Chegory ran into him.

So whafs going to happen?

The latest events would surely soon become common knowledge. Varazchavardan would learn that the demon Binchinminfin was currently housed in the flesh of Chegory Guy. Then soldiers would start looking for him in the obvious places. The Dromdanjerie, which was his customary residence. Uckermark’s corpse shop, where Chegory had recently been served with a summons to a depositions hearing.

So where could he go?

Where he eventually went was to Thlutter, the steep jungle-growth gully just east of Pearl. He couldn’t stay there forever, of course, but he could stay there for quite some time. A couple of days if he had to.

But I don’t have to stay here long.

Just long enough for the demon to get its act together.

Once Binchinminfin had rested, once Binchinminfin was stronger, then the demon would take over the flesh of young Chegory Guy, perhaps forever, and solve all his problems permanently.

Chegory, so knowing, was content to sit in Thlutter in the shade of a banana tree. The air was moist with the splitter-splatter of a dozen fountains sourced Downstairs. The air was rich with the smell of dank earth, the musk of decayed coconuts, the perfume of frangipani, and the scent of some cloying flower which was sweeter still. He could smell something else as well. Dikle and shlug. In fact those smells predominated since he was covered in the stinking stuff.