You will remember that Justina Thrug and her companions initially fled Downstairs to escape a rampaging mob, a mob which then turned its attentions to looting the pink palace. There were drummers in amongst that rabble, and the drummers in particular gave a good account of themselves as the mob devastated the pink palace. Unfortunately, things did not stop there, for riots have a way of spreading — particularly when there is a possibility of loot.
By early afternoon, the political map of Injiltaprajura had changed.
The Empress Justina had no authority at all. She was Downstairs, a prisoner of a therapist, and her soldiers had scattered.
Fear of the Crab no longer compelled order, for the mob in its frenzy ignored any anxieties its members might earlier have had on that score.
And the wonder-workers, who might have maintained order had they combined their forces for that purpose, instead chose to hold to the fastness of the Cabal House. A course of cowardice which was in keeping with their past actions; the greatest disgrace of their history being that, when a maverick demon had intruded upon the peace of Injiltaprajura, they had chosen such isolation even though they feared the world itself to be in danger.
Thus the sorcerers who had once proved impotent in the face of demonic force now turned out to be equally useless when their city was menaced by riot.
As for Nadalastabstala Banraithanchumun Ek, High Priest of the Temple of Zoz, he was in no position to command anything. For his most loyal supporters had been brought to a high pitch of hatred by Ek’s own demagoguery; and therefore naturally chose this opportunity to go hunting for Justina.
Thus did law and order collapse in Injiltaprajura; the proximate cause of this collapse being the run on the Narapatorpabarta Bank, something which the Empress Justina had herself engineered.
News of riot disturbance soon reached certain ships afloat on the Laitemata Harbour. Had news been denied those barks, the outbreak of smoke and fire in a dozen different buildings would soon have given their captains a hint as to the stramash taking place ashore.
Fire breathed its dragons through the slumlands of Lubos and winged its butterflies through the jungle gully humidity of Thlutter. Fire set the dogs to barking, the monkeys to screaming, and the populace to shouting. Dub contended with Toxteth, and both with Janjuladoola; and all three tongues ran panic-stricken through the streets. Black smoke and grey ascended skywards; supplemented, where stocks of oddly configured chemicals caught fire, by green smoke, blue smoke and orange.
One of the seadogs who took cognizance of the work of accident and arsonites was Troldot ‘Heavy-Fist’ Turbothot, a captain who had sojourned upon Untunchilamon merely to rest from the labours of sailing around the world. As Injiltaprajura burnt, Turbothot decided this was a good time to leave. But he declined to leave empty handed, for he wished to take with him his true love Theodora. And if Theodora, then why not much else?
The men under Turbothot’s command then included the Yarglat warrior Guest Gulkan, who was ready to help in any looting expedition provided he was rewarded with possession of the fabled wishstone of Untunchilamon. The shifty-eyed Thayer Levant was also aboard, and would fight alongside Guest Gulkan if the price was right.
On a neighbouring ship were certain Malud marauders from the island of Asral. These uitlanders were led by the piratical Al-ran Lars, who had come to Untunchilamon (like Guest Gulkan) to seek possession of the wishstone. Al-ran Lars had, however, done a deal with Turbothot and Guest Gulkan. When the moment to strike arose, Al-ran Lars and his crew would settle for gold, silver, diamonds and other such trash, and let the wishstone go to other hands.
All this had long been arranged.
All that had been missing had been the moment.
Now, with mob rule replacing that of law, the moment had arrived.
Thus, very shortly, all crewmen loyal to Troldot Turbothot of Hexagon and Al-ran Lars of Asral went marching up Lak Street in a disciplined body. The enforcement of discipline was made much easier by the heat of the day, which remained intense and stifling though the wind was getting up; for this heat discouraged the over-eager from surging ahead of their fellows.
A great many people had it in mind to loot the treasury of Injiltaprajura, and few of those who made the attempt were entirely unrewarded. But the dragon’s share went to the combined crews under the command of Turbothot and Al-ran Lars, and the ships of both these well-satisfied captains were under sail and cruising forth from the Laitemata long before salahanthara came to an end.
Those were not the only ships to leave. As one building in three was ablaze by nightfall, is it surprising that the remaining ships found it wisest to depart if they had not done so already? As a bloody sun sank in the west, as salahanthara gave way to undokondra, the last bark in the Laitemata weighed anchor and set sail, regardless of the perils of departing from Injiltaprajura by night.
Those ships left with their fair share of loot.
And with refugees: those refugees able to pay their way.
For the trouble ashore was not a mere matter of looting. Instead, there was a lot of killing.
Untunchilamon boasted a great many races, most of which hated each other. It was also graced with considerable cultural diversity in the form of many religions. And these too But then, you are a student of human nature, otherwise you would not be reading a history of this kind. You need no lectures on the consequences of the juxtaposition of hostile races and hostile religions in a setting which also features great differences in personal wealth (some citizens living near starvation level, others in sybaritic bliss), a lawless soldiery and a complete collapse of central government attended by a generalized abrogation of all effective authority.
Only the Analytical Institute and the island of Jod remained aloof from this turmoil. For, when the first looter dared set foot upon the harbour bridge, the dreaded Hermit Crab exerted some fraction of its power and caused that bridge to burst into flame; a repeat performance, for in the preceding year it had once had occasion to embark upon a similar course of action.
Thereafter, the Crab made no direct interventions in the riot. Instead, it stood on the shores of Jod and watched, occasionally opening one of its huge claws then closing it again with a decisive click-crunch. So much for the promises of those humans who had lately tried to beguile it with sweet words about an organic rectifier!
Thus disaster came to Untunchilamon, and all those ships which the Empress Justina had hoped to seize for her own purposes escaped from the Laitemata and commenced upon the long lagoon journey which would ultimately take them a great many leagues to the north, to the Galley Gate at the northern end of Untunchilamon, and into the open waters of the Great Ocean, that ocean otherwise known as Moana.
Had the Empress Justina known about this, she would have been horrified. But she knew of it not, for by this time she was labouring Downstairs with Olivia Qasaba, striving to bring an organic rectifier to a surface which she expected to find much as she had left it.
Shall we give a list of the dead?
A list could be given, but most of the names would be meaningless to those with no personal acquaintance of the fallen.
Suffice it to say that a great many of those whom the empress had hoped to rescue from the wrath of Aldarch the Third met with death. Some were raped then murdered; others were murdered then raped. More than a few, it must be admitted, died while attempting to murder or rape on their own account. Some expired amidst the incontinent flames which were threatening the survival of Injiltaprajura as a city. While one or two expired from natural causes; for, though history seldom overtly acknowledges the fact, the normal processes of birth, growth and death proceed even during the greatest and grandest of disasters.
Justina had feared for many, and many died.
Such is the record of history.
By dawn the next day, however, the troubles were largely at an end. For most of those who considered themselves potential victims had fled by sea; or had pursued the course of desperation earlier embarked upon by Dui Tin Char, and had taken themselves off into the wastes of Zolabrik; or had retreated Downstairs. As for the persecutors, they were by and large exhausted. As if beset by a similar exhaustion, the fires themselves died down, having consumed a good third of the city in their earlier passion. Then beclouded skies douched Injiltaprajura with a bucketing downpour, dousing the last fervour of fire and riot alike.
It was then that Nadalastabstala Banraithanchumun Ek, High Priest of the Temple of Zoz, had himself carried in a litter to the Cabal House. A difficult trip it was, with his slaves slipping and sliding on the wet bloodstone paving blocks, and the rain making a nonsense of his litter’s canopy. But the elderly orangeeyed mutant got to the Cabal House in one piece, gained admission, then began to lecture the timorous wonderworkers within.
‘Your do-nothing idleness,’ said Ek, beginning with an unaccustomed temperance, ‘has seen the richest slice of our city burnt to the ground.’
‘The pink palace yet stands,’ said young Nixorjapretzel Rat, who had escaped from his captors during the night and had sought refuge with his fellow sorcerers.
‘So it does, so it does,’ said Ek, after indulging in a silence meant to chasten the feckless Rat. ‘Doubtless there remains an excellent view from the roof. A view of scorched earth and smouldering cinders.’
Ek inflicted another silence upon the wonder-workers. ‘Some of the city yet remains untouched,’ said one of his auditors.
‘Oh yes!’ said Ek. ‘Marthandorthan! A gift from the gods indeed!’
This sarcasm did not silence the sorcerers entirely, for one went so far as to say:
‘We… we ventured nothing for fear of the Crab.’
‘It… it did intervene,’ said another. ‘It burnt the harbour bridge.’
‘We thought it would be more, more vigorous,’ said Rat, seeking to win favour from his fellows by arguing on their behalf. ‘After all, it’s supposed to have made itself wazir, or so everyone’s been told.’
Ek treated these excuses with the contempt they deserved. His arthritic fingers fumbled tobacco into cigarette form. One of the sorcerers hastened to bring him fire. Ek lit his cigarette and smoked a good half of it before he said:
‘The mob ventured all. The Crab did nothing, beyond lighting the m inor bonfire to which you have alluded.’ More smoke.
More silence.
Then:
‘Some time ago,’ said Ek, ‘I discussed our predicament with certain wonder-workers. Some of these I see before me now. The Crab we fear. Yes. But maintaining power in the face of a wrathful Crab is possible. Quarantine is the answer. That was what I thought at the time. No person was brave enough to act on such suggestion.’
‘As I recall,’ ventured one wonder-worker, ‘no actual-’ ‘Recall not!’ said Ek, his voice a whip. ‘Rather, obey. It is not for me to command. I am High Priest, as you know. I am consecrated to another purpose. It is not proper for me to command, nor is it strictly lawful. But things have reached the stage where to do otherwise would be lunatic. Does anyone here dispute it?’
None did.
Thus did Nadalastabstala Banraithanchumun Ek make himself de facto wazir of Injiltaprajura, declaring that city and the island of Untunchilamon to be again a part of the Izdimir Empire, and to be under the rule of Aldarch Three.
Ek demanded oaths of loyalty from the wonderworkers, and received such oaths. Those soldiers who could be located were similarly placed under oath; and a militia was raised to supplement the soldiery.
Ek lectured these combined forces: sorcerers, soldiers and militiamen.
‘We have nothing to fear but fear itself,’ said Ek.
‘What about the Thrug?’ said a soldier.
‘Justina is missing,’ said Ek. ‘Missing, believed dead.’ ‘Her sister, then. Theodora.’
‘Missing, believed to be at sea.’
‘And Lonstantine Thrug?’
‘The Dromdanjerie has been burnt out,’ said Ek. ‘Lonstantine is missing, another Thrug believed dead. If he lives, I fear him not. I’ve nothing to fear from a patent lunatic.’
‘Then… what about… what about the Crab?’
‘The Crab keeps to Jod,’ said Ek. ‘By its own choice.
Contrary to expectation, it failed to exercise its authority during the riot. Its sole act was to burn the harbour bridge. It chose isolation. We need but enforce that isolation to ensure our own security.’
Steps to do just that were soon underway. Patrols were instituted. Guards were placed on all boats. Canoes went into the rainswept Laitemata with bowmen aboard. Parties were landed on Scimitar to deny approach to Jod from that direction. Now nobody could warn, petition, counsel or plead with the Crab; and thus its impotence was assured.
Meantime, Justina and Olivia were still navigating through the depths Downstairs. An amazing feat of courageous endurance, this, since the rectifier was so great in mass and the women were but two in number. But Justina was daughter of a Yudonic Knight and Olivia Qasaba was of Ashdan stock; and both were conscious of their respective geneses and the burdens of pride which were a part of their cultural inheritance.
Thanks to strength, passion, and the accidental discovery of a Lift (which saw them rise a full four hundred levels in fewer than five heartbeats) the two sweating females were at last able to manoeuvre the organic rectifier into the streets of Injiltaprajura, streets alive with pulse-beats of the drums of the drummers.
By this time, the day of their flight had given way to night, and night in turn to day.
And all this time, Ivan Pokrov and poor Chegory Guy had been left alone with the therapist, which had indulged itself in a most intimidating line in conversation. Their sole hope had been that the organic rectifier would function as advertised, that it would turn Crab to human, that a grateful Crab would agree to demolish the therapist, and that Justina would soon return with the Crab to save the therapist’s victims from being demolished themselves.
But hopes of such swift rescue were doomed to be disappointed.
When Justina Thrug and Olivia Qasaba at last emerged into the streets of Injiltaprajura, they were surprised to find it raining heavily, disturbed by the foul reek of burnt-out houses which yet hung so heavily in the air, and shocked by the sight of incinerated buildings.
They came out into the daylight by means of a cavelike opening in a sheer bank at the northern boundary of the slumlands of Lubos. This was an area of tactical concern to Master Ek since it was a much-populated area close to the shores of the Laitemata. Therefore it was much patrolled by soldiers intent on maintaining the quarantine of the island of Jod; and it is scarcely surprising that the two females were shortly discovered.
Given the fact that Justina and Olivia had exhausted themselves in bringing the organic rectifier to the surface, it is similarly unsurprising that they put up no effective resistance whatsoever.
Which explains why, as a sly and self-delighting therapist lectured Ivan Pokrov and Chegory Guy on the pain potential of the anus, Justina Thrug was negotiating (or trying to negotiate) with the High Priest of Zoz the Ancestral.