He looked back at the Chinj, which was making a series of pointing and jabbing gestures with its small front paws, its wings flapping dangerously.
The meaning was obvious. Jack nodded once. The Chinj grinned, bowed, and dropped out of sight.
Jack turned and put his hand up.
"Ah, Mr. Farrell!" Mr. Hildegast beamed at him. "Do you have a question?"
"I'm sorry, sir," said Jack. "But I was wondering if I could be excused."
Mr. Hildegast's expression turned sour and thunderous. "Mr. Farrell! Are you seriously suggesting," he asked and his voice held the beginnings of what Jack grimly realized was going to be one of his drearily predictable climaxes of indignation, "that I should let you disrupt my class — that I should let you disturb your colleagues — just because of your bladder? You should have gone before you came in!"
A few appreciative titters spread around the room at this, and Jack was aware of everyone looking at him.
He didn't care.
"Sorry, sir," he said, "but I'm... not well. I think it's something I ate. And I really need to be excused, right now."
The tittering went up a notch.
"Heaven's sake, man," said Mr. Hildegast, "why didn't you say so? Go! Go quickly!"
"Thank you, sir," said Jack, and the laughter of the rest of the class followed him out down the passageways, until the door to the classroom banged shut behind him.
He made it to the toilets, got into the cubicle at the end that had the window, opened it, and sat down.
"All right," he said, "this had better be important."
"I'm very happy to see you, sir!"! squeaked the Chinj, bobbing up and down on its long toes as it clung to the cubicle's tiny windowsill.
"You too," said Jack. And it was true: it was good to see the small bat creature. "Nice sunglasses," he added.
"Thank you," said the Chinj modestly. "Miss Esme gave them to me."
"They look good on you."
"You're too kind."
"And how is Miss Esme?" Jack asked, a little pointedly. He hadn't heard from Esme since the business at the tree. He'd tried ringing the number at the theater, but it always seemed to be busy — and he'd begun to feel more than a little hurt.
"She's well," said the Chinj judiciously, "but she's been a bit busy. In fact, that's rather what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh yes?"
"There's a problem," said the Chinj, "at the Fracture."
Jack's expression turned grim. "What sort of problem?"
"Well, it's like this," the Chinj began. "Thanks largely to your efforts, Hell's been going through some rather big changes lately. For one thing, ever since... what happened, the new Emperor and I have—"
"New Emperor?" echoed Jack. "Who?"
"I was coming to that," said the Chinj. "As I was saying, the new Emperor and I have been approached by a number of parties who've been enquiring about the possibility of... well, emigrating, as it were.
Jack looked at the Chinj. "What are you talking about?" he asked.
"There are some demons," the Chinj replied patiently, "who want to come and live here, in your world."
"Here?" asked Jack, incredulous. "Why?"
"I honestly couldn't tell you," said the Chinj. "I mean, I was prepared to travel back and forth for you, of course, but I really can't see what merits the place has to offer by itself. To be honest, it seems rather" — it grimaced daintily — "well, boring, actually. No offense," it added quickly.
"None taken," said Jack.
"But these demons just won't listen to reason. We've been positively flooded with enquiries about the Fracture. One enterprising lit even set up a company, offering the chance for rank-and-file demons to book holiday tours—"
"What?"
"Though I'm sure I need hardly tell you," the Chinj went on hurriedly, "all requests to use the Fracture have been vehemently denied. It's under constant guard in case anyone is foolish enough to attempt to go through without permission."
"So?" asked Jack. "What's the problem?"
"The problem," said the Chinj, "is that the Emperor himself has expressed an interest in visiting."
"Oh yes?"
"In fact," the Chinj admitted, "he's already come through."
"Is that right?"
"Actually, there's a rather heated scene going on as we speak. It's becoming difficult to prevent other humans who don't... 'know the score', as it were, from seeing things that they probably shouldn't."
"I can imagine," said Jack distractedly. Much as he was enjoying talking to the Chinj, he was uncomfortably aware of how much time was passing. Soon, no doubt, he was going to have to go back to his double history class and pretend that nothing had happened. "So," he asked, "what does this have to do with me?"
The Chinj hopped awkwardly from one foot to the other.
"The Emperor has asked for you personally," it said. "In fact, his Royal Highness has indicated that he will tear every part of the Light of the Moon into tiny pieces with his tentacles unless you come and explain to everyone how he once fooled you into thinking he was a human."
"Jagmat," said Jack, realizing. "Jagmat 's the new Emperor?"
"I believe," the Chinj went on, with obvious exasperation, "he thinks that this will somehow convince Esme and the Sons to let him take a look around. At any rate, you'd better come and talk to him."
"Well, fancy that," said Jack, pleased for the blancmange-like demon.
The Chinj looked at him doubtfully.
"How soon can you get away from this place?" it asked.
Jack looked up at the small creature, seeing his own reflection in the lenses of its sunglasses.
He didn't reply straightaway. A part of him was telling him that he ought to say no, that he should probably go back to double history and get on with the rest of his life.
But the other part of him was already working out how he could escape.
"Tell them I'm on my way," he said.
And then, for the first time in quite a while—
—he smiled.
Sam Enthoven, The Black Tattoo
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