The Walrus and the Warwolf

by Hugh Cook

  'Come,' said Whale Mike. 'This way. Come.'

  And Drake, very shortly, was shown into the captain's cabin, which was set in the poop of the ship.

  On the Walrus everything was dirt, filth and disorder. Her crew was not even in the habit of coiling ropes properly. The captain's cabin made a startling constrast to this general disorder, for it was neat, whitewashed and scrupulously clean. That Drake noted at first glance.

  Then noted no more, for a sickening fear seized his senses, and he thought he would faint. His heart leaped like a frog trying to jump out of a water-barrel. His mouth tasted worse than it had when he had addressed the pirate's general assembly. He felt giddy.

  Slagger Mulps sat behind a desk where charts were spread out. He looked at Drake, then looked at Whale Mike.

  'Leave,' said Mulps.

  'Okay,' said Mike cheerfully.

  And withdrew his head and shoulders from the cabin, closing the door after him. Mulps watched Drake, saying nothing.

  'I - I suppose you want some explanation, man,' said Drake. 'It was Menator sent me here. Lord Menator. He dared me aboard. I think he means to kill me by this dare. I think he means to kill you, too, aye, given time. Kill both of us. That's what this voyage is for. To be the death of us.'

  'Why should he do that?' said Mulps.

  'For empire, man,' said Drake. 'We're both lusting after leadership. Aye. Me to be king on Stokos. You to be admiral. That speaks ambition. Hence danger to Menator. He knows as much, so kills while the killing's easy.'

  'I've thought as much myself,' said Slagger Mulps. 'The danger is to both of us. That makes us friends - perhaps. But ... if you will sail with us, then you must swear yourself to secrecy.'

  'Secrecy?' said Drake. 'About what?'

  'Why, about the secrets of this voyage south, of course.'

  Drake thought. He had little choice. But—

  'I'll not swear,' said Drake, 'if your secret touches on

  the lives of King Tor or Jon Arabin.'

  T thought you enemy with Arabin,' said Mulps. 'You

  spoke against his speaking at assembly. That hardly leaves

  you friends.'

  'Aye,' said Drake, 'but we've not yet come to blood. I want to leave some hope between us for the future.' Slagger Mulps considered this.

  There was much bad blood between Walrus and Warwolf. Could he afford to have Drake Douay aboard when Drake still had residual loyalties to Jon Arabin?

  'What would happen,' said Slagger Mulps, 'if it came to a fight between Walrus and Warwolf?'

  'Man,' said Drake, 'that's nothing to do with the voyage here. All I ask is to share your dangers, aye. At journey's end, I'll be back with King Tor. I'll say good words for you with the king. That's worth having, isn't it?

  'But I'll say this - I've got some fair thoughts left for

  Jon Arabin, but I've none left for one of his crew. That's Sully Yot I'm talking of, the wart-faced one. He tried to kill me - killed my dog while trying. He turned against my king. That's treason, man - to speak against the king.

  'While shouting filth, he said hard words about another fellow I could mention. Not to be too subtle - yourself. Man, I know I spoke bad words in a worse temper when we first met. But since then - you know yourself I've sworn to marry Tor's daughter. I've pledged my flesh to an ogre. Whatever words I've spoken, I've no prejudice. My actions prove that.

  'Man, I say this - you're as human as any other. Aye. Green hair, green eyes, the works. And I say this, too - if by one chance in a thousand million we clashed with Arabin on this voyage south, I'd fight for you and yours. At least till Sully Yot was dead at my feet.'

  Drake ended his speech. Stood there. Trembling. Slagger Mulps stared at him. Broken loose by the ship's motion, a slim piece of sharpened graphite slid across the charts, fell off the table and broke as it hit the whitewashed floorboards.

  'You speak well,' said the Walrus. 'I tell you this. The secrets of this voyage touch not on the lives of Arabin or Tor. So swear to keep our secrets.'

  Drake consented to place his hand on a virgin's breech-cloth - an article which Slagger Mulps regarded with superstitious awe - and swear himself to secrecy.

  'Now all can be revealed,' said Mulps.

  Drake bated his breath and waited for revelation.

  'We run to Narba first,' said Mulps, in a conspiratorial whisper, 'there to sell a cargo of seal furs.'

  Drake snorted, and breathed easy.

  'Is that all? Is that the ship's secret?'

  'If it were known we were engaged in honest trade,' said Slagger Mulps, 'it would shame us for thrice five generations.'

  'Aagh, Jon Arabin runs for pearls, and makes no secret of it,' said Drake.

  'Yes - but the pearl run reeks of danger. That's different from braining baby seals and ripping their bodies naked.'

  There was, Drake had to admit, a difference. But he could not help thinking the secret ridiculous. Surely there was more to know.

  'What special plan have you for capturing a monster?' said Drake. 'They're fearsome fierce, these monsters of the Swarms.'

  'Courage will serve us,' said the Walrus, blandly. 'We'll have men killed in the attempt, doubtless, but we'll win through in the end. You'll have your opportunity to cover yourself with glory.'

  Drake, at that moment, would rather have covered himself with a blanket. He had not slept very well the night before. As nervous tension ebbed away, he felt weak with fatigue. But there was one thing he needed before he could really relax: a safe-conduct pass or its equivalent.

  'Man,' said Drake, 'as maybe you know, I've tangled with a few of your men in the past. They're more likely enemies than friends. So I'd like you to get your men to swear to my safety.'

  The Walrus laughed.

  'I'm not your mother,' he said. 'You'll have to stand up for yourself. That's a test of your worth - to make peace with the crew.'

  'Another test!' said Drake. 'These tests will be the death of me!'

  'Mayhap,' said Slagger Mulps. 'But that's your problem, not mine. Now out - I've got to chart the details of our trip to the terror-lands, aye, the terror-lands of the Deep South.'

  Out on deck, Drake looked around for Whale Mike, who

  was nowhere in sight. In his hold, doubtless. Drake has-

  tened there - but was intercepted by Andranovory.

  'You!' said Andranovory, swaying.

  'What do you want?' said Drake.

  'This!' said Andranovory.

  And punched Drake in the gut. Hard. Drake took the blow easily, and punched back. His fist sank into Andranovory's belly as if the man were made of marsh-mallow. The black-bearded brute grunted in surprise, and sat down on the deck in a hurry.

  Drake was about to put in the boot when he saw he had spectators. Bucks Cat and Ish Ulpin were watching him.

  'Drake!' said Ish Ulpin. 'Over here!'

  Reluctantly, Drake went toward Ish Ulpin. The lean, pale man looked as if he never saw the sun. Big black Bucks Cat stood beside him, grinning as merrily as the knife-scar on his throat.

  'Whale Mike tells us you're sailing south with us,' said Ish Ulpin.

  'Aye,' said Drake.

  'We hear tell that the Warwolf tangled with Swarms and such on her last voyage south.' 'That's true,' said Drake.

  'Then sit down, man. Take a seat - aye, there on the rope, that's comfortable enough. Tell us about it.'

  'And why would you want to hear?' said Drake.

  'Why? Well, we'll be tangling with such soon enough, won't we now? It's nice to know what we're up against.'

  Drake realized that Ish Ulpin really did want to know. On inquiry, he found that nobody aboard had been further south than Narba. The waters of the Drangsturm Gulf were, to the crew of the Walrus, largely an unknown quantity. So Drake settled himself, and began to tell his tales.

  Drake was a good story-teller. Under pressure - with a life to lose if he failed to interest - he became an even better story-teller. Others of the crew gath
ered round to listen.

  One tale led to another, and thus, as the days went by and the ship cruised steadily south, Drake got to know the crew well. Bucks Cat - who proved to be boisterous, good-humoured, intelligent, and perhaps the most competent sailor aboard. Ish Ulpin - who, as Drake had suspected, was a dangerous man, too careless with himself to value others.

  Tiki Slooze, a feeble, querulous man who reminded Drake of Jez Glane. Rolf Thelemite, an intense character who claimed to be from the fabled islands of Rovac (claiming, too, that his blade was firelight steel from Stokos - though he never let anyone see it). Simp Fiche, whom Drake had met before - he lived for rape and torture.

  And others. Ching Quail, Trudy Haze, Praul Galana, Morton Seligman, and close to three dozen more.

  Drake found himself popular. Except with Andranovory. But that drunken bully was scarcely loved by the rest of the crew. Nor was he a match for Drake in a fight.

  So far, so good. But what happens when we get to the terror-lands? What happens when we get to the Deep South?

  Drake expected at least some men to jump ship when the Walrus reached Narba. But, though all the men got shore leave, none fled. All, it seemed, were ready to brave the terrors of the lands beyond Drangsturm. To do battle with the monsters of the Swarms. To dare the horrors of creatures worse than nightmare. And Drake?

  He was fearful. Yet was proud. And fiercely ambitious. He had to survive this test. To win the hand of King Tor's daughter. To win the throne of Stokos. And prove himself equal to the heroes of the Walrus, who faced the prospect of absolute horror with calm - almost, indeed, with indifference. Who would have thought they could be so brave?

  They're brave, perhaps, because they think no Swarms exist. Aye. But they do. I've seen them, clear enough. The Neversh - chest to chest. And the other monsters, crowded on the shore.

  As the Walrus braved south, Drake developed a nervous tic. He slept poorly - woken often by nightmares. He got acid indigestion. Under the stress of fear, he became irritable, short-tempered. Then at last, by night, he saw the flames of Drangsturm reflected from clouds on the horizon.

  Come morning, the Walrus anchored by a small offshore island. A day's sailing - or less - would take them to the shores of terror beyond the protection of Drangsturm.

  'What island be this?' said Drake, staring at massive low-slung buildings on the island.

  'This is Burntos,' said Bucks Cat. 'Landguard troopers are garrisoned here. They hold the island against any monsters of the Swarms which fly this way.'

  'It's a low, barren, ugly place,' said Drake. 'What do we want here? We've food, water - everything but women. Have they a brothel ashore?'

  'Not that I know of,' said Bucks Cat. 'But with luck, they've got a monster they can sell us.'

  'Sell us?'said Drake.

  'But of course. We need a monster to show to Menator.' 'But - but - but we—'

  Bucks Cat slapped his thighs, and threw back his head and laughed uproariously.

  'Oh man!' he said. 'Are you innocent!'

  ' What' s the j oke?' called Praul Galana.

  'This young hero here,' said Bucks Cat, pointing at Drake, 'he really thought we were going to hunt the terror-lands f or a monster. Oh man! That' s rich!'

  Bucks Cat laughed till tears ran down his face, and others laughed with him.

  'But,' said Drake, starting to get angry, 'the day we left Knock, I spoke with the Walrus. He told me true that we were hunting monsters. Aye. He spoke of death and glory.'

  'Well, man,' said Bucks Cat, recovering himself a little, 'helikesajoketoo.'

  'How did he know of this Burntos place since he's never been this far south?' said Drake.

  'Oh, we hear of this place in Narba,' said Bucks Cat. 'It's no secret.'

  'Well,' said Drake, 'if you never planned to dare the terror-lands - how come everyone was so hot to hear my stories?'

  'Why, for you tell a good tale, and that's reason enough,' said Bucks Cat. 'Besides - we're not home dry, are we? If there's no monster for sale ashore, maybe we will have to hunt one.'

  And, thought Drake, maybe, even if they secured a monster, bad weather would see the Walrus endure some adventures as wild as those which had befallen the Warwolf in the waters of the Drangsturm Gulf. Though he had to admit the weather had treated them fair enough so far - the Walrus had had dry skies, hot days and favourable breezes ever since leaving Narba.

  Drake was on the first boat which went ashore to Burntos. The others with him were Bucks Cat, Ish Ulpin and Slagger Mulps. In honour of the occasion, the Walrus had shed his sealskins, and had dressed himself in silken robes embroidered with astrological symbols. Drake thought he looked daft - but the green-haired man was obviously very pleased with his appearance.

  The boat scraped against stones.

  Drake jumped into the sea, and helped haul the boat ashore. A single old man was picking his way along the shore, gathering driftwood. Otherwise, nobody was in sight.

  'Hey,' yelled Bucks Cat. 'You got any monsters for sale?'

  The old man paid them no attention. 'Maybe he speaks no Galish,' said Drake. 'Maybe he's deaf,' said Slagger Mulps. 'Maybe,' said Ish Ulpin, 'selling monsters is against his religion.'

  'Chel!' said Slagger Mulps, meaning 'avanti!'

  And led the way toward the low-slung buildings. Massive buildings. Built of huge stone. Slit windows. Strange, narrow doors.

  'Drake,' said Slagger Mulps, as they came on the nearest building. 'Inside. Sus it out.'

  Drake, with some trepidation, ventured through the narrow door. He found himself in a long, cool, gloomy room. On either side were rows of pallets. On every pallet were identical stacks of folded blankets and folded clothing. At the end of every pallet was a pair of boots. A little dust danced in the shafts of sunlight come through the slit windows.

  Drake went outside.

  'Man,' he said, 'this place is for sleeping.'

  They explored further. Finally, surmounting a small rise, they gained a view of a huge paved square. Half a thousand men - or were they statues? - were standing there. In rows. Spears in hand. Utterly motionless.

  'Here's our people,' said Slagger Mulps.

  'A parade,' said Ish Ulpin.

  And spat, in disgust.

  'What are they doing?' said Drake, bewildered.

  'Soldier stuff,' said Bucks Cat. 'This is - this is kind of holy. I've seen it in the Rice Empire. We'd better stay clear till they've finished.'

  Drake watched.

  Nothing happened.

  Were these real soldiers? Impossible! Surely they were statues. Then—

  One of the spearmen went down. Crunch. Falling flat on his face on the paving stones. He stayed down. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Shadows shifted slightly as the sun eased itself across the sky. A fly settled on Drake's face and began to feed. He slapped it. Then was embarrassed by the noise. But nobody looked in his direction. A tiny dust-devil whirled across the courtyard, then faded to nothing.

  The soldier who had collapsed was still flat on his face. 'Craziness,' muttered Drake.

  And turned away from the parade. If everyone on the island was going to stand paralysed in the sun, maybe this was a good time to go looting. He wandered off amongst the buildings, peering through the slit windows. Eventually, he came upon a kitchen. Inside were upwards of a dozen women, hard at work preparing corn and potatoes for a meal.

  'Flesh is hope,' said Drake.

  And dared himself to the door of the kitchen. Being as attractive to women as he was, with any luck he could chat up one of the ladies and get in a quick one before the soldiers finished their daft parade.

  As Drake stepped into the kitchen, the women stopped their work and looked at him. A couple spoke to each other in some foreign tongue, then giggled.

  'Hi, girls,' said Drake.

  As he spoke, a tall red-skinned woman came out of a side room, her arms white to the elbows with flour. She glanced at him indifferently. Was it . . . Zanya? Yes! It was Zanya!
r />   'Zanya!' yelled Drake.

  She looked at him again, shrugged, picked up a rolling pin and retreated into the room she had come from. Drake hastened to the door of that room. And was met by a brawny purple-skinned man who was not entirely a stranger.

  'Greetings, Oronoko,' said Drake.

  'Fa'unu a'fukutu,' said Oronoko.

  And scooped up Drake, carried him to the door of the kitchen, and threw him outside in the dust.

  17

  Zanya Kliedervaust: priestess of the Orgy God of the Ebrell Islands; renounced her position and formally abjured alcohol, sexual intercourse, sunbathing, the eating of sweet things and all the other pleasures of the flesh after seeing her mother, father, brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles and aunts die of venereal disease, alcoholism and obesity.

  Quit Ebrell and travelled west in the company of Prince Oronoko of Parengarenga, questing for purity. Arriving at Cam on the xebec which rescued Drake Douay from the Central Ocean, sought work at the leprosarium.

  Was converted to the worship of the Flame by Gouda Muck; became an apostle for Goudanism and left Stokos to preach the Faith in foreign parts.

  The wizard Miphon was cleaning a xyster when Drake Douay was brought into his clinic by one of the women from the kitchen. Blood was dripping through Drake's blond hair and sleeking down his weather-battered sealskins. A drop of dark red fell soundlessly to the cool grey flagstones of the floor.

  'Welcome,' said Miphon, speaking in the Galish Trading Tongue; and, smiling to reinforce his welcome, he laid the xyster down on a well-scrubbed table of sun-bleached driftwood.

  'Tach smin hebalar,' said the woman from the kitchen.

  Miphon, who did not speak her language, waved her out of the clinic. Choosing to misinterpret this gesture, she

  seated herself in one of the clinic's five bamboo chairs.

  'Out!' said Miphon sharply, clapping his hands twice.

  Reluctantly, curiosity unappeased, the woman left. Miphon pointed Drake to a bamboo chair, which creaked as the bloodstained pirate sat.

  'Have you been fighting?' said Miphon.

  'Nay, man,' said Drake, looking around the clinic. His gaze lingered on a remarkable array of delicate steel instruments - hooks, blades', tweezers, spikes and probes. With luck, he could slip a couple into his pockets. Whale Mike might like them for his scrimshaw work. 'I was testing my powers of flight when my wings fell off.'