Things were heating up. The people of the O apparently were not waiting for me to move. I supposed that they knew about the upcoming executions in Memorial Park in a few days and were reacting violently to the idea of them, or perhaps this was in retaliation for the attack on the patrons of the bar the other night.
I had barely gotten into my first cup of shudder when a coach pulled up at the curb in front of the cafe. The driver got down and came walking over to me.
* There is an emergency meeting of the ministers this morning, your honor, and the Master requests your presence," he said.
"Very well then," I said. I paid for the shudder and took my cup and napkin and accompanied him to the coach.
The meeting was to be held in the Master's office at the Ministry of Benevolent Power. As we rode across town, we had to pass the Ministry of Security. I witnessed the aftermath of the destructive blast. The entire west wing of the building was now no more than a pile of rubble. The pink coral had crumbled like stale bread. Arms and legs and pipes and shards of window-pane poked out of the mess. Soldiers in riot armor patrolled the cordoned-off area. "These people aren't fooling around," I thought to myself.
We turned past what was left of the building and headed uptown toward the Master's office. As we went along, I finished off my drink and brought the napkin up to wipe my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what I thought appeared to be writing on it. I brought it directly into my line of vision and discovered that there was a note penned on one side. Cley, it said, it is easier to break an egg from inside out than from outside in. If you want to find out more, come this evening at eight to the Earth Worm at the western side of town. P.D.
I crumpled the napkin up and remembered to throw it in the trash can outside the ministry before entering. As I rode up in the elevator, I wondered if the message had really been from Pierce Deemer or if it was a ruse to flush me out. To make the appointment would be very chancy, especially in light of the recent explosions, but it was an opportunity I couldn't let pass.
As I strode down the hallway to the office, I was disappointed to see that it had been the head of Arden that had succumbed to the Master's strange affliction. He stood there with his mirror, posing the same as ever, only now his body ended at the shoulders. The sight of it brought back to me a memory of Mantakis and his wife, and the last thing I thought before entering the Master's office was the sight of them clutching each other in a pool of blood in the lobby of the Hotel de Skree.
The ministers stood before the Master's desk in a semicircle. Seeing me enter, Winsome Graves, Minister of Security, said, "I thought this meeting was only for ministers."
"Shut up," Below said to him.
"Excuse my tardiness," I said to the Master, and he merely nodded to me and told me to take a position with the others.
He looked more worn and ragged than ever as he sat there in his chair. "We have a crisis on our hands, gentlemen. No doubt you know all about the explosions that ripped my City apart last night."
They all nodded.
"We have a conspiracy on our hands," said Below. "I want action on this. I want to see the culprits' heads brought before me by this time tomorrow morning, or you are all going to be out of a position in the worst way. Do you understand?"
They all nodded.
"Minister Graves," he said, "step forward."
Graves straightened up in military style and came forward, saluting the Master.
Below opened his desk drawer and pulled out a pistol. He hardly aimed before squeezing off a shot. Graves fell like a cut tree, straight onto the carpet, his face obliterated by the shot. Blood covered the jackets of the ministers standing next to him.
"One of you a day," said the Master, "until this thing is settled."
I noticed a yellow puddle forming beneath the new Minister of the Arts. The others were visibly shaken. They nodded and yessed and hailed to the realm. Then they stood there staring at Below who stared back.
"Get going," he yelled and fired the pistol into the ceiling. "Take that piece of dung with you and drop him off at the dump," he said, motioning to Graves's corpse.
The bureaucracy of the Well-Built City had never moved so swiftly. As soon as they were gone, he told me to pull up a chair. I did, trying to position it away from the gore that remained.
"I heard about the explosions, Master," I said. "Who do you suspect?"
"I know exactly who it was, Cley," he said, putting the pistol back in the drawer.
"But who?" I asked.
"It's me," he said. "I was up all night with headaches that were like seizures. I'm telling you, whatever has gotten inside me from that fruit has some kind of consciousness. It is determined to destroy my City. From my bedroom window I have a view of most of the skyline. I began to get one of the attacks, and then, in my mind, I saw a building I had lovingly designed so many years ago. The next thing I knew, my eyes were forced shut from the severity of the pain, and I heard an explosion. When the episode passed, I opened my eyes and could see outside that the building I had pictured was in ruins with flames leaping from the rubble. I won't even mention the damage I did to my own residence. My personal servant is a million flecks of flesh right now, spread across the ballroom of my palace."
"Is there any hope of a cure?" I asked.
"My researchers are working on something derived from the leaves of the tree growing where I planted the seeds of the fruit. It has just begun to sprout, and we hope the sap might counteract the effects of the fruit. I am still a day away from having my hands on that serum," he said.
"Why did you tell them it was a conspiracy?" I asked.
"What was I going to tell them? The Master is systematically destroying the City?" he asked.
I nodded.
"It's killing me, Cley," he said. "I can feel it inside me, plotting my demise. Here, in my veins, is where the conspiracy is." He shook his head in what appeared to be genuine sadness. "You know, there was a room in the Ministry of Security— perhaps you remember it—whose ceiling was made of tin embossed with the image of a pelican. That design was a mnemonic device for remembering the face of my sister, who died when I was ten. Now, after last night, I can no longer see her. That room has also been destroyed in the City behind my eyes."
Just then, he was flung back in the chair with another of the attacks. He grasped his head and cried out, "Here it comes. To the window, Cley. The Ministry of Education. They're going to take it in the rear entrance." His words turned into a prolonged groan.
I watched from the window as the back of the building he had mentioned suddenly turned into a pillar of smoke, shards of crystal, blocks of coral went flying into the air and rained down onto the streets below. In addition, I could hear blue spire heads popping down the hallway, and a bookcase just to my left cracked and splintered, the volumes falling in an avalanche to the floor.
I turned back to the Master, who was now drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. "I'm all right now," he said weakly. "Fix me a syringe, would you?"
I prepared a dose of the beauty for him. He took it and shoved it into the vein in his left temple. As he pulled the needle out, he breathed a sigh of relief. "My lovely beauty," he said. "It's the only thing that does any good against the pain."
"What more can I do?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said. "I just had to tell someone who would care. Keep your ears and eyes open for me, Cley. This is a dangerous time with me so under the weather."
"You can count on me," I told him.
I didn't hand out any appointment cards that day. I knew I was going to have to act within the next day or else there might be nothing left of any of us. The streets were in turmoil, rescue workers heading toward the Ministry of Education and citizens fleeing in the other direction. Soldiers were trying to keep the peace by aiming their flamethrowers at unruly crowds who were threatening to crush one another in human stampedes. I went back to my apartment, took a needle myself, and lay in bed, thinking. Somewhere amid the long dream of the beauty, I heard another explosion and stumbled out of bed to look out the window. The Academy of Physiognomy was on fire. I smiled and lay back down for a while more.