by Galen Wolf
The atmosphere of the bar was heavy with veiled threat. The smoke was so dense in places that it was impossible to see through it. Burly men sat around tables, jars of grog in their hands, armyworms stuffed in their stubble ringed mouths. Although the sign outside said "Holy Hector's Refreshment Bar," these rough tykes did not look in the least bit holy. As Zventibold approached the bar he was about to order two glasses of Ape Ales when a rough looking fellow with a patch over his eye bumped into him. The man turned round and Zventibold could see that he was wearing a faded army jacket.
"What be you doin' pal ?" the man enquired savagely. On the knuckles of his right hand was a studded brass band.
Zventibold felt ice form in his heart and the pit of his stomach bubbled coldly. " Sorry," he said. "
Sorry?" It was only one word but it was enough. Zventibold had forgotten he was totally naked and covered in monkey fur. It was a grave mistake.
"What!" shouted the soldier - "A hunch backed talking monkey?"
Unfortunately for Zventibold and William this was Black Jack who had recently returned home from Piraktesh. He knew of the search for Berok. He was familiar with Berok's description and he was not slow in guessing the true identity of this speaking monkey. Black Jack had no love of vertebrate creatures although he was fond of the fat, black slugs that lived by the banks of the Szerkia. Black Jack did not especially hate monkeys but they reminded him a lot of people and he hated people. He drew a wickedly curved murdering knife and laughed long and loud. "You're Berok. I hate you," he said. It was no jump of logic for Black Jack and his next statement was equally effortless."I'm takin' you in."
He leapt at Zventibold but both Zventibold and William were running out of the door. There were not many streets in this pilgrim town so they headed for the river bank hoping to make it to the road out after hiding in the vegetation for a while and losing Black Jack. They looked behind them and saw Jack and a number of other soldiers running after them. There was a dip as the road went towards the landing place. Soon they came to the reed beds. Without a seconds pause, they dived into the water of the Unterlink. They broke off reeds and used them as snorkels as they swam down river. In the murky water they could not see much but when they judged they had gone far enough Zventibold put his head above the water. He saw no pursuers so he signalled to William and they pulled themselves onto the bank. They sat there, glad to have escaped and vowed never to walk into another bar whilst naked ever again. Zventibold suddenly turned. He thought he had heard a rustle behind them. William turned too but he saw nothing as a heavy club thudded into the back of his head.
"Arrgghh, I'm 'it," was all he said before he drowned in the dark seas of unconsciousness.
18. Mince for Supper
Zventibold as awakened by a rhythmic squeak. The first thing he noticed was William's face. It had lost some of its hair, but the huge nose, the bulging eyes, the hollow cheeks all said 'William'.
The blue eyes opened suddenly. He appeared displeased. "I 'ad a dream about a toilet," he said.
Zventibold found this very strange as be had been dreaming about the self same thing. Perhaps it was something they had eaten?
It was night although the fingers of the retreating day still stained the sky over in the west. They were moving and they were imprisoned in a wicker cage which squeaked with every jolt of the wheels over the road. They could hear the steady clip-clop of horses' hooves in front of them and also the rough voice of the driver. He seemed to mumbling to himself. William asked the first question - "Where be we, mas'er?"
"It seems William that we are prisoners, though of whom or to what end I do not know. If that light is the sunset then I judge that we are heading away from the shrine and toward the plateau's edge."
"I must say mas'er you're takin' it all very calmly. Ar. I would be terrified if I was in your shoes."
Zventibold smiled at his servant's simpleness. Then he was sad. He missed Melissa. He missed his mother. And more than anyone, he missed his father, Turvius Sullius.
Just then there was a squeak of leather as the driver turned round. "So my fine buckoes, you're not monkeys after all 'en? I suspected you weren't .It takes more than a few sprouts of ugly, unwanted hair to fool Jeremiah Foolscap, retired Imperial Guardsman and now meat dealer,"
"What do you mean by meat dealer?" queried Zventibold.
Jeremiah laughed, "Ar they all wants to knew that! I ship monkeys from Piraktesh, where there be a surplus and cheap as dirt, to Wamawama where they be rare and a delight."
"What do you mean, 'delight'?"
"I means the folk of Wamawama delights in eatin' 'em."
William felt the approach of a bout of gibbering, but Zventibold calmed him.
Zventibold saw the victory of his logic stretching like the eternal carrot before him.
"Aha Jeremiah Foolscap," he said, "but you yourself have admitted that we are not monkeys!" He felt very proud. William clapped.
"Ahey, monkey man," said Jeremiah, "but the people of Wamawama be exceedingly fond of gravy. They eats it on everything. They'll never knew the difference."
William gibbered long and loud. Its piercing note echoed over the rolling desert plains. It was getting cold.
Jeremiah turned. "No more gibbering. I can't abide gibberin'," he snapped curtly.
Zventibold turned to his doorman."William, this could work to our advantage. The army aren't likely to search a street trader and glittering Kharkesh is but the other side of Wamawama. I know it'll be hard, but don't despair for we shall regain our freedom."
Much later, although the dark shroud of night still covered the land, the stars came out from under a covering of cloud. Jeremiah seemed lonely he wanted to start a conversation. "It's not as warm as it beed is it ?" he said.
"No," agreed Zventibold. "But tell me - I'm curious about one thing. Why did you give up a job as safe and secure as an Imperial Guardsman to ship meat over the Pirakteshi Plateau?"
" Well I must say monkey man not many of my cargoes 'ave ever shown much interest in me. It makes a pleasant change, so I won't tell no lies I got sacked after a few too many at my post. I was reported by Albert Budge the carpet cleaner - what delusions of grandeur that slimy toad 'as."
"You know Albert Budge ? I know him too,"
"Ar then maybe you're not such a fine little monkey man after all. I 'ope you baint a comrade of 'is?"
" Oh no- he betrayed me to... Well. I know his daughter better than him."
"Be that the lovely Melissa? She's too good for an old devil like Budge. Mind they say 'e's tryin' to get 'er fixed up with Royal Georgie. Albert 'asn't sussed that it's only 'er lithe young body Georgie wants. Durin' my service at the palace I seed enough of that."
"Melissa and I are in love," said Zventibold."
"Does she go for monkeys? I do hear that it be a spreading vice."
Zventibold shook his head. "You forget that I'm not really a monkey."
Jeremiah looked calmed. "Oh well I'm glad for you, and sorry that you're goin' to end up in Wamawama stew. Funny thing that she should fall for one a revoltin' lookin' as you, still it 'appens and you don't seem a bad chap,"
Zventibold's heart cracked with misery. His Melissa would run off with 'Royal Georgie' he felt sure of it, but it only made him all the more determined to return to Piraktesh and wreak his revenge.
It was just at that moment that Zventibold noticed that William had been responsible for the peculiar crunching noise that had been troubling him. William had eaten his way through the bottom of the cage and escaped.
"What's that ? " asked Jeremiah.
"Oh nothing." said Zventibold innocently.
All the rest of that long night Zventibold said little. He was lost in thought. So, Melissa was likely gone. Still he couldn't readily believe that she would betray him for Royal George - a man named after a pub - even if he was the heir to the Autocracy and a manicured dandy. That's the sort the girls always go for. Men with humps never have a look in. First Turvius had
been killed and now Melissa had been taken from him. Revenge boiled in his mind. He had to find a way to escape so that he could reach the city of the sorcerers. There he would grow mighty in sorcery and return to wreak his revenge.
He brooded long on the family of the Autocrat. They had first banished and disinherited his father Turvius Sullius and when Turvius had justly returned to seek what was rightly his - namely revenge - they had in cold blood murdered him. Or perhaps it was hot blood technically. And then he brooded on the wrongs the Autocracy had meted out to his step family - the Beroks, whose name he bore. His step-grandfather Simon had been ill treated like a dog by the Autocrat. The dog Frisky, or was it Raunchy? In any case, the animal was surely a plant. Then his step-father Zamborg had been murdered by the Autocrat's soldiers. He saw a red mist when he thought of that and his knife hand shook. And then his poor mother - something had happened to her, or perhaps he himself had done that? The hairy juice had affected his memory, but one thing was certain - REVENGE! He began to sweat.
Jeremiah turned to him, "You ok, monkey man. Stress 'ormones be bad for the taste o' the meat, so I don't want you all a-stressing."
But Zventibold wasn't listening. He was deep in his revenge lust. He was sure they had taken his beautiful Melissa from him against her will. He hated Axtos as his father and step-father had done, but most he hated George. George was dashing and charming - that sandy hair and the moustache. Those posters of him all the Pirakteshi teen girls bought and adorned their walls with. But as he thought about George and his sandy complexion, his mind settled on his moustache and, the large teeth and prominent bottom. He wouldn't be surprised if there was truth in the persistent rumour that his mother had mated with a large desert rodent when she and his father Axtos were on a break.
So Zventibold stayed, half awake, half asleep in confused thoughts of revenge. He dreamed of rodents with large teeth. He dreamed of the flashing eyes of his only love - Melissa. When the face of the unruly sun popped above the horizon once more, he had devised a plan of escape. He would silently make his way out of the cage through the gaping hole left by William's teeth in the floor.
"Are yez awake yet ?" shouted Jeremiah roughly. Then he paused. "I'm sorry about shouting at you but this seat really rubs my arse. Listen I'm going to stop over in Sauce Bottle Oasis for breakfast and a rest. I don't want to work the horses in the mid day heat. I got some mangoes and a few eggs for breakfast. Do you like mangoes? I only ask because I know they're not everybody's cup of tea."
"They would be very nice thank you," said Zventibold who was uncommonly fond of mangoes.
As the fondant palms of Sauce Bottle Oasis grew ever closer Zventibold was torn between a desire for egg and mangoes and a desire for revenge. He realised, however, that revenge could not wait. He steeled himself to jump, with the sun still low in the east. As he jumped through the hole, the cart jerked to a stop. Never nonplussed Zventibold decided to use the wagon itself as cover. Ahead of him was a large palm and tree beside it another. In fact there was a whole grove of palm trees lazily waving their fronds in the light desert breeze. As he peered out from under the cart he could see the shimmer of water between their trunks.
Jeremiah immediately noticed something was wrong when he found the cage empty. Then he saw Zventibold's naked and now almost hairless form through the hole in the cage bottom.
"Alright, come out now, or you'll not get no breakfast," he said in measured tones.
Zventibold got out form under the cart a little sheepishly. Already the thought of a swim in the oasis water and imagined sizzle of mangoes and eggs filled his brain.
"An' where be thy little friend eh?"
"Pardon?" said Zventibold, determined to protect William at all costs.
"The other monkey. Where be 'im?"
Zventibold decided to box clever.
"I didn't see another monkey," he said.
"Another- monkey-man I mean. Where be him?"
"I really didn't see one".
Jeremiah was a reasonable and, it may be said, rather a fatalistic man used to life's ups and downs, its profits and losses.
"Alright then. 'Ere you better get some clothes on. I've got some spare ones in the back of my seat on the wagon. You can't walk around with that danglin' or you'll put the natives off their tea." He joked good naturedly. "An' you might as well ride up in the front with me in case you fall out of that 'ole in the cage. To tell the truth lad that cage is only a burden to me now. Such are the bitter twists of fate 'owever an' we've all got to weather the rough winds of misfortune throughout our days till death comes to free us." He laughed. "We might as well use the cage as firewood to cook our mangoes and eggs."
Zventibold dressed in Jeremiah's old clothes and then set about breaking the cage while Jeremiah got out the frying pan. When they had a roaring fire going and the mangoes and eggs sizzled merrily side by side over it they began to converse.
Zventibold took in Jeremiah's appearance; he wore ragged clothes, had fair hair and a face which although tanned by years in the open was by no means unkind. He seemed to be far away as he talked. "Y'know monkey man, I be very fond of watchin' the mornin' pass in this place. The desert , the trees blowin' in the wind. The sun risin' and the sand stretchin' away; a man couldn't wish for more in 'is life. Wait 'ere a minute."
He walked over to the cold blackened ashes of a previous fire. He pulled out a piece of charcoal and then walked back to the sitting Zventibold.
"Could you open your shirt a bit monkey man."
Zventibold who had almost been lulled by the easy aura that surrounded this man was immediately on his guard, but none the less did as Jeremiah had said.
Jeremiah began drawing arcane lines on Zventibold's chest - lines Zventibold recognised from somewhere. He relaxed. "I did not know you too were a mage Jeremiah," said Zventibold.
"I'm not." said Jeremiah. "I'm only workin' out the best cuts for butcherin' you."
Zventibold was shocked. Jeremiah seeing his horror stopped his drawing. He put a friendly arm around Zventibold's shoulder. "Don't worry lad, " he said, "you'll be dead when I do it."
After that they both sat in silence and ate their breakfast. Then warmed by the rising sun and the gentle breeze in the palms' leaves they fell asleep.
19. The Blow
Now let us return to the time William chewed his way through the bottom of the cage, only partly aware of the benefits it would bring his master. He leapt like a cat and fell on all fours into the cooling desert sand. He lay flat until the wagon with its squeaking cage and dear master had passed by.
Then he realised that he had problems of his own.
He was fast losing all his monkey hair; he was thus nearly naked in the desert at night and to cap it all he was lost and had no food. Perhaps these things would have disheartened a lesser man but not he, William FitzShogun. A spirit he had not felt in years was coursing through his body. He was William the trusty doorman no longer but Sergeant William FitzShogun of the Fifth Pirakteshi Light Horse. He was again that brave and reckless warrior who had stricken terror into the hearts of whichever enemies had dared come against him on the fields of war. No longer would he whimper and gibber - rather he would conquer evil and protect justice.
It would be fair to say that this change had been taking place since he had been about to be hanged. At first in that gloomy, wet prison cell he had wept for the loss of his own life but then seeing the plight of his fellow prisoners, men imprisoned on a cruel whim of Axtos III, he had gone over to them to comfort and aid them in their misery. Now in the desert he thought of his small children, he thought of his dear wife Sibelia (he struggled to remember her name as he had mainly used her for cooking, cleaning and sexual role-playing games) and wondered where they were.
He understood at that moment the nature of righteous anger and for the first time in his life he comprehended justice. He thought of his master Zventibold and how the naive young man had been deceived by Turvius Sullius, his opportunist father. He
thought of the lovely Helena, whom he still thought of as the true Countess and her last words to him. He would obey her and look after Zventibold.
But first he must find him. He looked around him. Everywhere lay the rolling dunes with an occasional rock weathered by the wind into a hideously twisted nightmare form. There were small stunted shrubs here and there binding the sand together or so it seemed in the darkness. There was no water he could see. He looked to the sky. It was cloudless and many stars were visible. He knew that despite hunger and hardship he must follow his master and somehow, sometime, somewhere, rescue him from the salt and meathooks of the abominable meat trader Jeremiah Foolscap.
He felt the cold night wrap its windy cloak around his old bones. He felt the urge to gibber but something inside checked him from doing so. He was no longer doorman to the socially unaccepted Zamborg Berok as he had been not twelve months past - but indeed the hunted outcast of the desert sands. What knew he that Black Jack and the real Militia were not on their trail even now? He began to follow the wheel marks of the cart along the track. There was only one route way in that part of the desert. He would find them! He broke into the long steady, loping strides of a beast. He became animal of the hunt, an organic machine in time with the night, in rhythmwith the wilderness.
How many miles he ran he knew not; he had surrendered himself to the cadence of his pounding legs, a rhythm that purified him, that sloughed off his servility like the skin of a snake, allowing it to emerge young and shining - allowing its rebirth!
