Aurorarama - Jean-Christophe Valtat [142]
“You’re the proof that one shouldn’t.”
Arkansky tried to focus his basilisk stare on Brentford, who, legs apart and hands behind his back, deliberately looked up at the ceiling, ignoring the attempt.
“I suppose that a democrat like you will not refuse a little discussion,” Arkansky said eventually.
“Not until after you have liberated Miss Springfi … Mrs. Orsini and that young person from your tyrannical influence,” said Brentford, now facing Arkansky.
“Why would I sacrifice my best assets?”
“Because that would be better than having the bones of your hands crushed one by one by a rifle butt.” said Brentford, a tremor in his voice that was not only of impatience.
“This is the kind of democracy I understand,” said Arkansky, with an irony that made Brentford uncomfortable. “I will not force you to demonstrate it, however.”
But he was not a man who could resist a trick when he saw the possibility of one, especially if it gave him the last laugh. Leaning successively toward Phoebe and Sybil, and making passes over their foreheads, he whispered in their ears: “You will faint in five minutes and when you wake up, you will fall madly in love with the first man you happen to see.”
“Expect a few minutes before this works,” he said with a grin, as he turned back toward Brentford. “It has to be progressive, you understand. But you have my word of honour they will wake up, much to their satisfaction. Now, can we discuss more serious matters?”
“Certainly. But quickly.”
“I like challenges. This is what I propose. Instead of a bogus judgement, I want to fight a duel. If I win, I will leave the city forever and as a free man. If I lose, I am at your disposal. Does this satisfy your hunger for justice?”
“I have little time to play games, Mr. Arkansky. You’re quite at my disposal now.”
“Yes, but not without some sort of trial, I should think. That would be too unfair. What I’m proposing to you is a kind of ordeal to make up for it.”
Why not, thought Brentford. This would settle the matter quickly and prevent his personal feelings from interfering with justice.
“What sort of duel would it be?”
Arkansky looked around and spoke loudly.
“Is there among these dirty savages one wizard who thinks he has greater power than I have? If so, I want this man to step forward and engage with me in a duel of wonders.”
A murmur ran among the Inuit, as the offer, and the offence, were translated.
“No? Uncouth cowards! You admit that the White Man has greater powers than you have? That your gods and your helping spirits are just strong enough to animate children’s matinees?”
Brentford looked around. The Inuit were shocked. They protested and spat on the ground but did not move. Could they possibly be afraid? If nobody accepted the dare, Brentford could not do anything but let Arkansky get away. Maybe that was still better than having one angakoq publicly humiliated, as Brentford feared would be the case. But then again, it would be shameful as well for the Inuit if they merely accepted without further discussion Arkansky’s contemptuous claim of superiority. He looked for Uitayok and saw that he was speaking to Ajuakangilak. The shaman stepped forward and walked toward the centre of the Ice Palace, very calmly, Tuluk and Tiblit escorting him.
“Ajuakangilak is ready for the contest,” said Tuluk.
Brentford was not sure if this was good news or bad news, but Arkansky’s smug little smile was not a favourable omen.
“Very well. Could the spectators close the circle around us?” requested Arkansky.
The spectators slowly complied, tracing an arena around Arkansky and Ajuakangilak.
“Well,” said Arkansky, looking past Ajuakangilak to address the crowd, “I suppose that this little wizard, used as he is to flying to the moon, will have no trouble doing this.”
And, turning up the palms of his hands, Arkansky suddenly levitated a few inches above the ground, as he had done in the Greenhouse.
A whisper of awe rippled among the Inuit.
Arkansky lifted himself slightly higher, his arms apart, his belly