The Wicked and the Witless

by Hugh Cook

  When isolated from each other and interrogated sep- arately, these prisoners gave testimony proving that the broad outline of the tale told by Andranovory and Erhed was true. Khmar had been defeated by an alliance of wizards and Rovac; those wizards and Rovac had gone questing for a death-stone possessed by the evil wizard Heenmor; soldiers under their command had finally mutinied near the Araconch Waters.

  At the time of the mutiny, the pursuers had been chasing Heenmor towards the north-east of Argan. If the wizards and the Rovac eventually defeated Heenmor and won command of the death-stone, then they would take it to the Confederation of Wizards.

  'Probably,' said one quick-witted mutineer, 'their route would take them through Selzirk. So you could arrest them, seize their death-stone, and make yourselves lords of the universe.'

  Farfalla laughed when she heard this.

  'Absurd,' she said.

  Then thought some more, and went to see Plovey, and put a certain proposition to him. They came to an agree- ment, and started using their influence to get what they wanted.

  They were successful.

  And, shortly, Sean Sarazin was dismayed to find himself placed in permanent command of the gates of Selzirk. His mission: to wait until the wizards and the Rovac came through the gates. Then to arrest them, and take from them the death-stone.

  Why are you doing this to me?' said Sean Sarazin, knowing this task to be both futile and absurd. 'Is this punishment? If so, then punishment for what?'

  'Plovey and I have decided,' said his mother, 'that we must keep you out of mischief. We neither of us want civil war in the Harvest Plains.'

  'Civil war?' said Sarazin. 'What are you talking about?'

  'Civil war,' explained Farfalla, 'would be the inevitable result of your conspiracy.'

  Sarazin knew by now that he had managed to keep virtually nothing secret from his mother. Nevertheless he said, as a matter of form:

  'I don't know what you're talking about.' Then: 'Any- way, leaving aside this conspiracy nonsense — what about these things which were stolen from me?'

  'None of our prisoners knows anything about that,' said Farfalla. 'The burglary must have been the work of Douay alone.'

  'Then let me have Douay!' demanded Sarazin. 'I must have him! I must get the truth out of him! By torture to the point of death, if nothing else will avail.'

  'Oh, that's been taken care of already,' said Farfalla.

  'What do you mean?' said Sarazin.

  'I mean that Douay has been tortured to death. He confessed himself to be a pirate, so, when we'd got all we could out of him, we turned him over to the law. The legal penalty for piracy is to be tortured to death — and his execution was yesterday.'

  Sean Sarazin was desolate.

  Douay was dead, and the secret of the whereabouts of the magical treasures had died with him. Sarazin's hopes of retrieving his ring of invisibility, dragon-bottle and enchanted candle were finished. Thus his hopes of ruling the Harvest Plains in his own right were shattered.

  What's more, he could no longer hope to rule even with Lord Regan's help, for, since both Plovey and Farfalla were alert to his ambitions, conspiracy had become too dangerous.

  The great game was over.

  And Sean Sarazin was condemned to stand at the gates of Selzirk day in, day out, always with one mutineer or another at his side, waiting for the wizards and the Rovac to come past bearing the death-stone they had won from the wizard Heenmor.

  Life passed, slowly.

  Then Sarazin's view of the world began to change.

  First, he learnt that Drake Douay was still alive in one of Selzirk's dungeons. On cautious enquiry he found Plovey of the Regency had arranged for Douay to survive.

  Why?

  Sarazin could not figure it out, so asked Jarl.

  'Douay doubtless blames you for his torture,' said Jarl. If not you, then certainly me, for I helped teach him the meaning of pain. Plovey doubtless thinks to use him some day as an assassin.'

  'Assassination,' said Sarazin, 'plays no part in the politics of Selzirk.'

  'It is not traditional,' agreed Jarl, 'but things may change. Particularly if Plovey learns that our conspiracy has been renewed.'

  'But it hasn't!' said Sarazin. Then: 'Has it?' Jarl laughed.

  'This time,' said Jarl, 'we're going very, very carefully. The less you know, the better.'

  So the conspiracy was still afoot. Douay still lived. The enchanted objects could still be retrieved. There was still hope!

  But Sean Sarazin was still condemned to the never- ending monotony of gate-guard duty.

  In spring, the absurdity of that duty became manifest when terrifying news came from the north. A new power had arisen in Argan. The Rovac warrior Elkor Alish had killed the evil wizard Heenmor, had seized control of the death-stone himself, and had used the power of that weapon to conquer the city of Runcorn.

  Now Alish was demanding the surrender of the Harvest Plains. If such surrender was not forthcoming, then Alish would invade — and any army which stood against him would be turned to rock by the death-stone.

  Refugees from Runcorn arrived in Selzirk — survivors of a battle which had been fought against Alish. Some had hands of stone, arms of stone, legs of stone. Some had faces partly transmuted to rock. Some died not long after reaching Selzirk. Dead or alive, they were proof of the disaster which threatened the Harvest Plains.

  Panic gripped the capital. Many people fled Selzirk. Some committed suicide. There was a great conference attended by Farfalla, the Regency, the guilds and the army — and nobody could see how to stand against Alish.

  The Regency now made its nature clear. There were brave men in its ranks — Plovey zar Plovey, for example, who feared little and confessed his fear of nothing. But most members of the Regency were cravens, and this majority passed an Emergency Executive Decree appointing the kingmaker Farfalla as Supreme Warlord for the duration of the war, this appointment to terminate ninety days after an Official Declaration of Peace.

  The implications were clear. Since Farfalla now had total command of the Harvest Plains, the shame of surrender must fall upon her. Furthermore, if the invader Elkor Alish decided to execute Selzirk's ruler, then it was Farfalla's head which would roll.

  Farfalla acted quickly.

  'Elkor Alish,' she said, 'is armed with a weapon of wizard make. The heroes who sought to wrest that weapon from Heenmor were charged with the duty of returning it to the Confederation of Wizards. We know the Con- federation wants this death-stone, and would not permit Alish to wield it in his own right. Therefore let us send messengers to the Confederation asking for help from that quarter.'

  It was truly extraordinary for the Harvest Plains to seek help from wizards, for that realm had suffered much in the past from the rule of such. However, the times were desperate, so this expedient met with no resistance.

  'Send me!' said Sean Sarazin.

  But Farfalla refused him.

  'You,' she said, 'I no longer trust. You will stand guard at the gate. Your people will watch still in case wizards come south. Or spies — spies in the pay of Elkor Alish. That is your duty.'

  Then Farfalla recalled Sarazin's brother Celadon from Shin, and it was Celadon she sent south to take word to the Confederation of Wizards. Peguero and Jarnel could not be sent, for they had not returned from Hok. Their fate was unknown, for the army they had led to Hok to fight against the ogre Tor seemed to have disappeared entirely.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  On an afternoon when the spring weather was hinting at the heat of summer to come, Sarazin was sleeping off a hangover in a room built above Selzirk's northern gate when he was awoken by Erhed. 'What is it?' said Sarazin.

  'They're coming!' said Erhed, frantic with fear and excitement. 'They're coming, they're coming!' 'Who?' said Sarazin. 'Hearst is coming. Miphon is with him.' 'You're kidding,' said Sarazin.

  But Erhed was all sincerity. Sarazin scarcely had time to arm himself and get down to ground le
vel before the Rovac warrior Morgan Hearst came through Selzirk's gates in company with the wizard Miphon. They and their two companions were all mounted.

  'He's lost his hand,' hissed Erhed, astonished.

  'Who has?' said Sarazin.

  'Hearst! That's him! The one with the hook for a hand! The green-eyed one is Miphon. Those other two — one's a woodsman from Estar, the other I don't recognise.'

  'We'll know soon enough,' said Sarazin.

  And stepped forward to challenge the strangers.

  'Halt!' cried Sarazin.

  Before the strangers could flee or fight, Sarazin's men grabbed the reins of their horses. What now? Were the strangers spies, refugees, enemies, allies? Were they in flight from Elkor Alish or were they in his pay? Sarazin's men were looking at him, waiting for orders.

  —Plovey must not know of this.

  That was vital. Plovey would know shortly, of course. But Farfalla must know first. If these uitlanders became allies against Elkor Alish they must be Farfalla's allies, not Plovey's.

  You,' said Sarazin to Hearst, 'come with me.'

  'Who are you to command me?' said Hearst, his hand already on the hilt of his sword.

  Sarazin, who knew the temper of the Rovac from long acquaintance with Jarl, feared a fight then and there. Adopting his most lordly voice, he said:

  'My name is Watashi. I'm eldest son of the kingmaker, Farfalla, highest power in the Harvest Plains. Mark me well: I'm the best swordsman in Selzirk, and my blade is faster than yours.'

  The bluff held Hearst — for the moment.

  'I've been here before,' said Miphon. 'Then, Farfalla's eldest son was Sarazin Sky.'

  Sarazin was furious. How had the wizard learnt of that pet name? He hated it! Through gritted teeth, he said:

  'So men have called me. But names may change with the times. Watashi is my name now, as I have told you. Come.'

  And, to Sarazin's surprise, the strangers obeyed, and gave him no trouble as he escorted them to Farfalla's High Court. He had their names by the time they arrived.

  On admitting the strangers to Farfalla's presence, Sarazin felt a pang of shame at the manifest poverty of his mother's throne room. It should have been rich with gold, silver, tapestries and ivory; it should have been filled with music and incense, with slaves in silks and supplicants crowding round the throne.

  Instead, it was the same old place as ever, with just a few guards in cheap grey, a couple of scribes and a handful of serving women keeping his mother company. To Sarazin's mortification, Farfalla's skin was dyed red. How gauche! He was furiously embarrassed, since the fashion for red skin had already been fast-fading since the year before. Worse — Farfalla was wearing clunky copper earrings and peasant bracelets which belonged to a phase of fashion older yet.

  —What did I do to deserve such a mother?

  Sarazin knew the strangers must be sniggering behind their mask-stolid faces, but suppressed his embarrassment, and, in his grandest style, said:

  To the kingmaker, mother of all the peoples, ruler of the See of the Sun, greetings. Here before you stands the Rovac warrior Morgan Hearst, and here, the wizard from the south, Miphon. This one here we believe to be a peasant from Estar, Blackwood. And this one, perhaps with truth and perhaps not, tells me he is a Galish merchant by the name of Ohio.'

  Farfalla took her time assessing Hearst and his com- panions. Then she began to interrogate him. She let him know that some of his erstwhile quest companions had been interrogated, and had betrayed their knowledge of his pursuit of the wizard Heenmor, his quest for the death-stone.

  'We have received an ugly little embassy demand- ing our surrender in the name of Elkor Alish and the death-stone,' said Farfalla. 'Knowing this Alish to be sworn to the service of wizards, and lacking any evi- dence of a death-stone slaughter said to have taken place near Runcorn, I have chosen to disregard this threat. Yet I see this Alish is not of your party. So is he dead? And if not, does he indeed command the death- stone?'

  Sarazin thought he could understand his mother's strategy. There was panic in Selzirk — a panic made all the worse by very tangible evidence of the death-stone's work. Farfalla was concealing this from the strangers to strengthen her own negotiating position.

  But what did she hope for?

  They most certainly did not have the death-stone itself, for that was in Runcorn with Elkor Alish.

  While so thinking, Sarazin had not been paying attention to Morgan Hearst, who had been talking all the while. Sarazin caught just Hearst's last word: '. . . intelligence.'

  Then Hearst's companions disappeared. They vanished! One moment they were there, the next they were gone. Two bottles rang as they hit the stone floor: a red bottle and a green bottle. And Hearst was uncovering something, was holding it aloft.

  'The death-stone!' cried Hearst. 'Move and you die.'

  'Die yourself!' snarled Sarazin.

  And drew his sword, attacked, glimpsed something flying towards him—

  Then staggered into stars, blundered into darkness, and collapsed.

  Unconscious.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Sean Sarazin, knocked out by the death-stone which Hearst had thrown at him, played no part in the nego- tiations which followed between Hearst and Farfalla. By the time Sarazin recovered, it was all settled. Hearst would organise the defence of the Harvest Plains against Elkor Alish, and would then be allowed to go south with his companions and with the death-stone.

  Those companions spent some time in the magical red and green bottles into which they had retreated. The mutineers who had been tortured for information in the autumn and winter had spoken of a magical green bottle which could hold an entire army within its depths, but the interrogators had discounted that tale.

  Now they knew better.

  'But it's too late,' raged Sarazin, cloistered with his mother for a very private conference. 'You've thrown away our best opportunity. We could have killed Hearst, we could have taken the death-stone, we could have made ourselves rulers of the Harvest Plains.'

  'So you think,' said Farfalla impassively.

  'You're not really going to let him go south, are you?' said Sarazin. You're not really going to let Hearst walk out of here with the death-stone? How could you? This solves all! With the death-stone, we could master all of Argan. You won't let him go. You mustn't! You won't, will you?'

  'Wait and see,' said Farfalla.

  A little later, certain ugly rumours came to Sarazin's ears, and he confronted his mother again, invading her private quarters for the purpose.

  'Is it true,' said he, 'that you've taken Hearst to bed?'

  That,' said his mother, her face momentarily looking as if the death-stone had been at work on it, 'is a most improper question.'

  'But someone has to ask it!' said Sarazin defiantly. 'You can't take up with this — this wandering mercenary. He's the worst kind of lowlife imaginable.'

  'You'd be surprised what I've taken up with in my time,' said Farfalla.

  Then ordered Sarazin to depart. When he did not, she threw him out.

  Back in his own quarters, Sean Sarazin lay on his bed, heartbroken. Was this how it was going to be? After all his planning, his scheming, his conspiring? Was it all going to come to nothing? Was this wretched Rovac warrior going to make himself lord of the Harvest Plains?

  If Sarazin judged aright, his mother planned to romance this Rovac warrior, to make him and his death-stone hers, to proclaim herself empress, sweep away the Regency, abolish the Constitution and make herself absolute ruler of the Harvest Plains.

  And for Sean Sarazin?

  For him there would be, at best, a livelihood. For his mother did not trust him.

  Sarazin was still brooding about it when Thodric Jarl came to see him. The Rovac warrior arrived unannounced, looking extremely weary. He was dirty, unwashed, and stank of horses. There was blood on his clothing.

  'Jarl!' said Sarazin. 'I haven't seen you for days! Where on earth have you been hidi
ng?'

  'I've been down in Androlmarphos,' said Jarl, 'pursuing the recruitment of Qolidian.'

  'Qolidian, yes,' said Sarazin.

  That was the judge who had sentenced Sarazin to death, botching the sentence as a favour to Farfalla, who had rewarded him by making him king of Androlmarphos. Since then, Jarl had been following various leads, seeking sufficient material to blackmail Qolidian into supporting Sarazin's cause.

  'Has any word reached you yet?' said Jarl.

  'Word of what?' said Sarazin. Then, without waiting for a reply: 'What do you think of Farfalla's new guests? Morgan Hearst — have you met him?'

  'I haven't and I won't,' said Jarl, with mingled con- tempt and disgust. A Rovac warrior in league with a wizard! That's an abomination! Elkor Alish, that's the man I admire.'

  'Alish betrayed his comrades,' protested Sarazin. 'He quested for the death-stone in their company, then tried to take it for himself.'

  'He was true to his duty,' said Jarl. 'He did what a Rovac warrior is sworn to do. He moved against the wizards when the time was right. This Morgan Hearst is the traitor. Hearst should have thrown in his lot with Alish. Instead, Hearst stole the death-stone from Runcorn and brought it south.'

  'If you think so highly of Alish,' said Sarazin, 'why don't you go to Runcorn to join him?'

  'I've no need to go to Runcorn,' said Jarl. 'Alish is already in the Harvest Plains. He's seized Androlmarphos.'

  'What?!' said Sarazin.