The Wicked and the Witless coaaod-5

by Hugh Cook

  'One sees what one looks for,' said Plovey. 'That, at least, is my experience. I tell you, Sean Sarazin – dare the Door and check the plinth at each station on the Circle. In one niche or another there must be at least one globe of stars, otherwise the Door would not have opened.' 'Describe to me this star-globe,' said Sarazin.

  'Green,' said Plovey, toying with a little blue-veined cheese. 'Slippery. Like a frog. Fist-sized yet heavy. Stars glow within. Other than that, dear friend, I know nothing of it. Only that Drake and his comrades had such a globe in Penvash. Some cheese? No? Come! You only live once.'

  'All right,' said Sarazin, rat-gnawing on cheese, 'what came of it? The globe, I mean. The one the pirates had.'

  'Since pirates are what they are,' answered Plovey, 'naturally they came to blows over it. One of their number then ran off with the treasure, and-' 'Was never seen or heard of again?' 'Precisely. How did you guess? 'It seems to be the story of our times,' said Sarazin.

  'Well then,' said Plovey, 'I've made my decisions already. I believe Selzirk doomed for certain. I leave tomorrow for your Door in Chenameg. If you could help me tonight with detailed directions you can be sure of my welcome on a future meeting.' 'My pleasure,' said Sarazin.

  'Then, as a token of my appreciation,' said Plovey, 'I give you my house and everything left in it after I quit the place at dawn tomorrow.'

  And Plovey smiled. He was utterly calm. Completely unruffled. Why? Because, all his life, he'd known some- thing dreadful was fated for him and his world. He had endured a sense of impending doom ever since child- hood. Now, at last, the worst had happened. Utter and unmitigated disaster. Which had ended the agony of waiting. Plovey could almost have been called happy.

  'So now you know,' said Glambrax, from under the table. 'What now? Do we go with Plovey?' 'No,' said Sarazin. 'We stay here to defend Selzirk.'

  You're crazy,' said Glambrax, banging his head against the underside of the table.

  TMot crazy,' said Plovey gently. 'Our dear friend has a prophecy to fulfil. Now is Selzirk's greatest hour, therefore he must defend the city against its enemies.'

  There was silence in the room but for the thunk… pause… thunk of Glambrax's head. And the scrabbling of a rat in the panelling. Sarazin's hands strayed from knife to spoon to meatpick.

  You… you knew,' he said. 'Everything. All along. You knew it all.'

  'Oh no, dear friend,' said Plovey. You underestimate yourself. Despite my best efforts, I found out very little, oh, very little indeed. But I knew you read a certain prophecy in a certain book. Oh yes. Come… shall we start work on the map? I should be hard put to find this Door without it.'

  'Not till you've told me how much you knew,' said Sarazin. 'And how you came to know it.' 'Ah,' said Plovey, 'Lod told me a little.' 'Lod! Lod worked for you?'

  'Lod worked for everyone,' said Plovey. 'Farfalla paid him to be an additional bodyguard to young Sean Sarazin. Oh yes, your mother took good care of you, believe me. Lod was sworn to your defence, thanks to your mother's gold.'

  'I never knew,' said Sarazin, appalled by his own ignorance.

  'Of course,' said Plovey, smiling, 'Lod also worked for Lord Regan. I didn't know it at the time, but I found out later. Oh, many secrets have come out of the woodwork since the Swarms stormed Drangsturm. People now freely tell secrets they would once have carried to their grave even in the teeth of torture.' 'Lod… Lod was Lord Regan's spy?'

  'Lord Regan's agent. Lord Regan had many such in Selzirk. Of course, Lod also worked for me.' 'He worked for you?'

  'He took my gold,' said Plovey, with another smile, 'and, now and again, gave me just a little information. Not enough to kill Sean Sarazin. Oh no, he didn't want you dead. You were very precious to him. Your life guaranteed him a triple income. But he told me a little, now and then.' 'How about Benthorn?' said Sarazin. 'What do you think?'

  'I think he was your creature through and through,' said Sarazin. 'Yet you did business with him.'

  'A little, and with great caution,' said Sarazin. 'It did me no harm, did it?'

  You survived,' conceded Plovey.

  'And Madam Ix? Madam Sosostris? Mistress Turbothot? How did they fit into the scheme of things?'

  'The two fortune-tellers played a double game. They worked for Lord Regan and for me as well. Again – neither of them wanted you dead. They told me enough to earn their pay, but not enough to condemn you. But Mistress Turbothot… ah, she was mine. We almost got you, didn't we, darling boy?'

  'You were very cunning,' admitted Sarazin. 'But… if you wanted me dead, why didn't you just send in assas- sins? I know it's not traditional, but surely, under the circumstances…'

  You were watched, you were guarded, you were a warrior in your own right. You weren't the easiest of targets, darling boy. Besides… I am an artist. What's more, two can play at that game. Farfalla had told me as much to my face. Now… shall we attend to this map?'

  Sarazin stared at Plovey. He needed time to absorb what he had been told. A lot of time. So much had happened, so suddenly. He had learnt that Hearst had not made himself ruler of Selzirk, that it was Hearst who had destroyed Drangsturm, that Farfalla had fled, that Lod had been a spy…

  'Just one more question,' said Sarazin. 'You raided my quarters. Why?'

  'Because I was set up, of course,' said Plovey equably. 'I was told I'd find certain proof of conspiracy which would damn you and your mother both. Instead… well, you know the rest.'

  'There was in fact proof of conspiracy in my quarters,' said Sarazin. 'Not certain proof, but evidence enough to prove dangerous. Somebody took it before you came. Was it Douay? Or who?' 'That I know not,' said Plovey.

  'Jaluba was in my quarters when I left to join my mother in conference,' said Sarazin. 'When I came back, she was gone. Where did she go to? Was she the thief? Was she your spy?' 'Jaluba,' said Plovey, tasting the name. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin, then said: 'Ah, I remember. Your whore in Voice. Later, a servant of the Sosostris woman. Am I thinking of the right person?' You are,' said Sarazin.

  'Well,' said Plovey, 'I know nothing of her fate. She was certainly never one of my people, I assure you of that. Now, dear Sarazin, your one question has become three. Have you yet another? Or may we settle to the map?' 'Yes,' said Sarazin. 'We'll work on the map.'

  Late at night, the map was finally finished. The next day, Plovey left Selzirk, taking with him servants, slaves, women (some in chains, others not), men at arms and half a dozen relatives. He left his house to Sean Sarazin, as he had promised.

  And there Sean Sarazin stayed during the days that followed, with only Glambrax for company. The Swarms drew steadily nearer, and Selzirk steadily emptied as more and more of its people fled. Some hardy souls remained, thinking the Swarms would be delayed by the river.

  Then came news that the Swarms were crossing over one of the dams to the east, and were building a bridge to span the river to the south. Then nearly all of the people who had stayed in the city ran for their lives.

  But a few diehards stayed on, Sarazin and Glambrax among them.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Sarazin polished his ring of invisibility till its silver shone in the sun. He anointed his jade-green dragon-bearing bottle with oil and buffed it up. He sharpened his sword. He did some stretching exercises to free up his muscles.

  He was ready for the greatest challenge of his life: to save Selzirk from the Swarms, which were at the gates of the city and were expected to break through those gates before sundown.

  'I, Sean Kelebes Sarazin, known to the world of war as Watashi, dedicate this day to the salvation of Selzirk.'

  So said Sarazin, who was safe from Glambrax's mockery since the hyperactive dwarf had been locked away in the highest room of Plovey's house.

  Stern in resolution, he stepped to the street. And was not overly surprised when Glambrax fell in beside him. He was, neverthelss, curious. 'How did you get out?'

  'Out?' said Glambrax. 'Out of what? I got from my mothe
r's womb, I remember, by means of being dragged. Or is it something else you're interested in?' 'Never mind,' said Sarazin. 'Never mind.'

  High noon in Selzirk. Sarazin released his ring of invisi- bility from its chain and put it in a pocket where it would be ready for instant use. If his dragons failed to defeat the Swarms, he might need that ring to survive.

  The Swarms were without the gates, and those gates were groaning under the onslaught of the monsters. Some of the diehards who had remained in the city had sworn to stand and fight – but now they were turning and running.

  'Hold fasti' cried Sarazin. 'I have magic herel Magic with which to save the city, the world.'

  But all the people ran, and he was left alone. He was piqued to think there would be no witnesses to his heroism. Would that spoil the prophecy? And, even in the confusion of the moment, he still found time to wonder how his father's death came into it.

  – But I decided that already, didn't I? He died in Shin. Didn't he? He was dead enough as far as I was concerned, even though he lived. So that satisfies the prophecy. Doesn't it? Please?

  – But what if the prophecy's a lie anyway. Could it be? Do I die here, today? -Impossible.

  For the magical snuff bottle in his left hand was the one the druid had given to him, the one which held a dread of dragons totally obedient to his command.

  – But they will live only briefly. That's what the druid said. Will briefly be long enough? -It must be!

  Wood graunched and ruptured. The gates shattered. Through the wreckage came a tunneller, a creature of the Swarms built like a sharp-pointed obelisk. Hundreds of multi-purpose limbs jutted from its body in every direction. Those which happened to be in contact with the ground were presently being used as its feet. The tunneller quested. Blindly. This way. That. Sarazin found himself trembling. -The bottle, man. The bottle!

  His fingers stumbled over the polished jade. Grasped. Tugged. The top would not come out! 'Stuck!' he wailed.

  A quick-limbed blue ant the size of a calf slipped past the tunneller and advanced on Sarazin, fighting mandibles clicking – 'snick snick snick!' – like castrating scissors from an Oedipal nightmare.

  Then the top came – sclop! – out of the bottle. And up roared the dragons, billowing into the air with a rush of fumes and fury, filling the air with the smells of cin- namon and low-grade sulphur. Their wing-clap fury filled the sky. The creatures of the Swarms shrank back, retreating from the dragons.

  Yes, there were nine of them.

  And nine dragons made an army. It could not be doubted. They were the most dragonish dragons ever seen, fire-winged creatures each a hundred paces from head to tail, and they were his, they were his alone, so strong, so proud, so beautiful that Sarazin wanted to weep and laugh at the same time.

  'Well,' said Glambrax, resolutely unimpressed. 'Don't just stand there gaping. Command them.'

  The dragons, having flaunted their fury in the skies above, settled to the rooftops. The largest alighted on the battlewall above the shattered gate. Sarazin glanced at the Swarms, which were hesitating in the gateway, then said in a battlefield voice:

  'I am Sean Kelebes Sarazin, named in war as Watashi. I stand before you as lord of Selzirk, as prince of the Harvest Plains, as saviour of my people, fulfiller of prophecy, warlord and dragonmaster. Acknowledge my rule!'

  The dragon on the battlewall, the largest and most lordly of them all, answered:

  'I am the dragon Untunchilamon. Verily, thou art lord of my will. What is thy command, my master?'

  Sarazin, face flushed with the heat of the dragon's breath, said: 'Destroy the Swarms and save Selzirk.' 'To hear is to obey,' said Untunchilamon.

  Forthwith, all nine dragons launched themselves into an all-out attack on the Swarms. Roaring, dragons grappled with monsters. But To Sarazin's horror, before his very eyes the dragons were torn apart. Their forms shuddered, smoked, decayed to clouds of sulphurous fire, then disintegrated altogether and were blown away on the breeze.

  Tour dragons, you see,' said Glambrax, talking sober sense for once, 'were no more than illusion. Beautiful illusion, extravagant illusion – but illusion for all that.' 'I see,' said Sarazin. Speaking as one dazed.

  He realised now that his dragons had been but a form of fireworks. Most beautiful and intelligent of fireworks, capable of speech, and, perhaps – however briefly – of thought. But fireworks for all that. Beautiful, transitory

  – and ultimately useless.

  'Now, my master, lord of my will,' said Glambrax. What is your command?' Then, as Sarazin made no reply, the dwarf tugged sharply at his sleeve, and said again, urgently: 'Shall we run?'

  Yes,' said Sarazin, as if waking from a dream. Yes, I suppose we must.'

  And, as a bevy of blue ants advanced on them, they did indeed run. They sprinted, in fact. Sarazin was fast enough

  – but Glambrax was not. One of the ants gained on him, seized him. 'Sarazin!' he squealed.

  Sarazin turned, saw, swore. Jammed the ring of invisi- bility on to his finger. Drew his vorpal blade. Strode back and hewed the head from the nearest blue ant. Then grabbed Glambrax and hauled him away. As Sarazin grabbed him, Glambrax too became invisible to the monsters of the Swarms.

  The ring was hot on Sarazin's finger. Getting hotter. It hurt, it hurt! It burnt! As they rounded a corner, Sarazin dropped Glambrax then wrenched the ring from his finger. Threw it to the ground. Where it burst into white fire. With sun-bright flames it consumed itself, then was gone, leaving only an ugly rust-red scar on the stonework of the street to show where it had been.

  Sarazin watched the immolation of his hopes and dreams from the nearest doorway. Then one of the monsters of the Swarms edged round the corner. A small black and tan dog stood in the middle of the street barking furiously at it. A moment later the dog was trashed to a raggage of blood and bone.

  Sarazin slammed the door, bolted it, and joined Glam- brax on a quick retreat to the cellar.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  They dwelt in cellars and sewers, in stormdrains and rat- squeeze underpassages, in crypts and boltholes, in shadow and darkness. The cold rains washed the sewers clean. The Velvet River itself ran cleaner than ever before in living memory.

  – What were we then? A pollution on the face of the earth?

  – I know not. But know our destiny now. To be rats to our lords, the Swarms.

  That was what Sarazin told himself. But he believed it not. Surely some hero would come, some force, some power, to liberate Selzirk from the Swarms. Sometimes, he toyed with his magic green candle, the last piece of magic left to him. Did that perchance have the power to save Selzirk?

  The trouble was, he had not the slightest idea what the candle could do. The druid who had given it to him had not known. It might prove dangerous rather than helpful.

  – I'd best not use this until I know what it does. Or until my life's so deep in danger that there's no other way out. Thus thought Sarazin.

  In those dismal days, it was some consolation to him that at least his mother's palace still stood fast against the monsters. He approached, sometimes, at night. Flame wrathed up from the moat, no longer quiescent but ferociously alive. Sometimes he saw figures on the battle- ments. Long after midnight, strange lights sometimes writhed around one of the eight towers which had long been sealed against humankind. – The wizards have reclaimed their own. Thus thought Sarazin, and knew it for truth.

  He could see, now, what had happened. When the Swarms had invaded Argan North, the wizards by Drangsturm had fled by any means available. Some had come to Selzirk and reclaimed the ancient wizard fortress which had been the foundation of Farfalla's palace.

  – Perhaps those who guard the walls are the same wizards who came through that Door in Chenameg.

  That would explain much: Drangsturm fell; the wizards fled through a Door north of Drangsturm; the Swarms pursued them through that Door.

  – Should I myself try that Door? Is there any hope of safety through such?
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  Sarazin played with the question, but made no serious attempt to answer it, for he still hoped for Selzirk to be saved, liberated, rescued.

  Since the Swarms were more active by day than by night, Sarazin and Glambrax slept through most of the day, waking each evening to begin their activities. On one such evening, they were up in a belfry spying on the Swarms as those monsters settled to take their rest, and planning a raid on a warehouse where they hoped to find something decent to eat.

  That was the evening that they saw a mountain moving in the distance, crossing the Harvest Plains like something out of nightmare. Then Sarazin truly knew his hopes for rescue were futile. The world had gone mad. When moun- tains take to walking, what next? Will the sky take to falling? 'Tonight,' he said to Glambrax, 'we leave the city.' 'To go where?' said Glambrax.

  'To Chenameg,' said Sarazin. To the Door.'

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  After enduring many hazards – the worst of which were in human form – Sean Sarazin and Glambrax finally reached the hunting lodge which had been the headquarters of the guerrillas who had fought under the command of Fox in the highlands of Chenameg South. They found it burnt to the ground, together with all its outbuildings. Nearby, they found a man tied to a tree, but, as he had died of starvation or exposure some days previously, he proved less than informative.

  'At least nothing's gnawed the corpse,' said Sarazin. 'That proves there's no monsters hereabouts.'

  'Or else,' said Glambrax, grinning, 'that their taste is for fresh meat only.' 'We'll see,' said Sarazin, somewhat uneasily.

  And, without further ado, set off for the Door where he had once almost met his death in a confrontation with the Swarms. He had trouble finding the place. In company with Glambrax, he spent three days trekking back and forth through the hills, searching for the deep-cut valley where he had dared his sword against a gigantic green centipede.

  They spent the nights in the trees for fear of monsters, and, in consequence, were ragged with lack of sleep by the time they finally found the valley. Fortunately, there were no live monsters in evidence, though the tattered remains of a giant centipede and of one lesser beast showed Sarazin he had not imagined the brutes. The Door was there, too. The steel archway, wide as a man's outstretched arms, still stood on the marble plinth. However, it no longer hummed, and was no longer filled with shimmering grey. Instead, Sarazin could look through the arch to grass and sky.