by Hugh Cook
'We know you're in here, whoever you are,' said the harsh voice, switching to the Galish Trading Tongue. 'Surrender yourselves!'
Silence.
Then someone burped. 'Seize him!'
Boots clattered over the stone floor as half a dozen soldiers homed in on the burp. There was a brief scuffle.
'Hey!' said Andranovory, slurring the word in a way which made it obvious he had been drinking,
As the soldiers hustled Andranovory away, the pirates followed as quiet as they could, slipping out into the night.
'Well,' muttered Mulps, when they were in the clear: 'That's An'vory done for.'
'No!' protested Rolf Thelemite. 'We can't leave a comrade!'
And, drawing his sword, Rolf Thelemite charged after Andranovory's captors, screaming a challenge as he went: 'Ahyak Rovac!'
Voices cried in alarm. Blade clashed against blade in the dark of the night.
'We're with you!' roared Praul Galana.
Slagger Mulps swore, then joined the fray himself.
Drake, ruled by his concern for his injured arm, backed off into the night. He bumped into someone, who grabbed his sore arm.
'Gaaa!' screamed Drake.
And won his freedom with a head-butt and a savage elbow blow. Then he backed off some more. He saw lanterns weaving through the night, drawn to the noise of combat. Then he heard the voice of Slagger Mulps raised above the confusion:
'With me, boys! Time to go!'
Feet pounded away into the night. Drake followed as best he could. Tripped. Fell. Rose. Blundered. Which way was which? He was disorientated. Lost. Some lanterns were coming his way. He scuttled away into the dark. Was brought up hard by a building. Sat down, half stunned.
More lanterns!
Help!
Drake eased himself along the side of the building until
he found a doorway. He slipped inside. The building felt
empty. He risked snapping his fingers, once. The crisp
sound confirmed his impression of any empty, unfurnished
building. He sat down in the shadows, and began to wait.
* * *
Near dawn, light began to filter through gaping cracks in the roof and walls of the building Drake was sheltering in, and he understood the reason for its emptiness - it had been abandoned because of earthquake damage. Shivering, he slipped outside.
A glance at the sea told him the Walrus was gone. He was marooned on Burntos! What now? Hide? Impossible. Swim for the shore? It was too far - particularly with his wounded arm. There was only one choice: to surrender.
Accordingly, Drake surrendered himself to the wizard Miphon, who took the matter lightly.
'While there was a brawl last night,' said the wizard, 'nobody was hurt. Your ship has escaped with all her crew, so there'll be no trials or other nonsense.'
'What happens to me, then?'
'Why, you'll stay with me till you leave the island. I should by rights report to the Confederation regarding our earthquake damage. So . . . tomorrow will be as good a time as any. We'll leave Burntos then.'
'Where going?' said Drake.
'Why, to Drangsturm, of course,' said Miphon. 'To the Castle of Controlling Power. That's where the Confederation's based.'
'So that leaves me with a day to look around the island,' said Drake, thinking he had better make the best possible use of this one last chance to hunt down Zanya Kliedervaust and make her his.
'Not so!' said Miphon. 'It gives you a day to scrub out myelinic'
'Man,' said Drake, 'you can't make me work! I'm injured! I was wounded by that Neversh, you sewed up the wound yourself.'
'You're fit enough for trouble,' said Miphon, 'so you're fit enough to work.'
Drake was determined not to work - but the green-eyed wizard proved to have an unexpected amount of willpower. Much sweeping, cleaning, scrubbing and polishing later, night came. And, after night, the morrow.
After a lean breakfast of rice and fish, Drake and Miphon went and sought out the cutter which was going to take them to the mainland. She was commanded by a jowly, sunburnt boatman, and had a crew of three. The only passengers were Miphon, Drake, Zanya Kliedervaust and Prince Oronoko.
'Zanya!' said Drake, delighted to see his truly beloved once again. 'You!'
'Who is he?' said Zanya, who was naturally suspicious of the rough-dressed fair-haired fellow who was gawking at her charms with such obvious lust. 'What's he doing here?'
'You'd better ask him that yourself,' said Miphon.
Oronoko, speaking softly in his native Frangoni, asked Zanya if the youth with the degenerate eyes was troubling her, and if §he wanted him broken in half. Zanya, speaking in the same Frangoni, reminded Oronoko that the pure did not kill. Except, replied Oronoko, when confronted with the impure.
'Have you two begun to argue theology?' said Miphon, who had a fair command of Frangoni himself. 'If so, get in the boat - we can't wait thrice seven years for your wills to come to agreement:'
All embarked on the cutter, which set sail. As the frail vessel ghosted along, Drake listened to Zanya's incomprehensible argument with Oronoko, and watched some soldiers who were beginning to demolish an earthquake-damaged building. Unless he was mistaken, it was the same structure which had housed the captive Neversh before the unfortunate brute was loaded with chains and hauled aboard the Walrus.
He shuddered.
'Man,' said Drake, to Miphon, 'I've been thinking about this Neversh you let loose by way of trade. That's a mighty strange thing to do, isn't it?'
'Why so?' said Miphon.
'Well, I mean - wizards built Drangsturm to keep the Swarms south. Right? So why sell one of the monsters north? Surely that's as bad as breaching Drangsturm.'
'If Drangsturm were breached,' said Miphon, 'then the Swarms would come north in their thousands. One single monster is little danger - for the Neversh, brute for brute, are weaker than dragons. Such sales give the Confederation profits. Also, they serve a wise purpose - they help remind the rest of the world what task we do here.'
'Why should the world need reminding?' said Drake.
'Because,' said Miphon, 'since people are as they are, some refuse to believe that the Swarms exist at all. They think we fake nightmare through lies or rank exaggeration to preserve the wealth of the south of Argan for ourselves.'
'I never thought such!' said Drake.
'I never said you did,' said Miphon. 'But there are those who believe the Confederation does not protect the north, but, instead, keeps the north in poverty by frightening honest men away from southern wealth. Ah . . . the fair lady Kliedervaust seems to have a question.'
Zanya Kliedervaust did indeed have a question. Her argument with Oronoko concluded, she was ready to interrogate Drake Douay.
'Explain yourself,' she said.
Drake cleared his throat noisily, hawked, then spat to the dark green sea. This was a very sticky situation. Zanya was a disciple of Gouda Muck. She believed that the infamous Drake Douay was the accursed son of Hagon. Beside her sat the formidable Oronoko, he of the purple skin and the violet eyes. And Drake was in no condition for fighting.
'My name,' said Drake, 'ah, that's not given lightly to strangers. But I've given it already to the wizard Miphon, aye, for I'm a friend to wizards and trust them well. So I'll give my name to you. It's Arabin. Or, to be exact, Arabin lol Arabin.'
'There was a pirate named Arabin,' said the jowly, sunburnt boatman who commanded the cutter. 'I knew him well when I were of the Greaters. But he were black, not blond.'
'Yes, well,' said Drake, 'that must be coincidence then.
Though I've had affairs with pirates, aye, I'll not deny it.'
'Affairs?' said Zanya, with an expression of disgust on her face. 'Affairs of lust?'
'Nay, woman,' said Drake. 'Not thus but otherwise. I was a swordsmith of Stokos, where I trained under Oleg the Blademaster. He sent me to 'Marphos on a mission, aye.'
'Androlmarphos,' said Zanya, 'is a seethi
ng brew of vices, a den of iniquity, a pit of poxed spirits and demented souls.'
'Very likely,' said Drake, 'but I can't speak for that myself, since I never reached the place. The ship which bore me was taken by pirates.'
'Yet you lived,' said Zanya, her voice accusing. 'You did not die in the defence of your ship against evil.'
'I had no chance to die,' said Drake. 'For I were below decks, helplessly seasick. Thus I was taken prisoner. Since then, I've slaved for the pirates as a cook's boy, working under pain of death. But now I've made my escape, and hope for gainful employment elsewhere.'
Prince Oronoko addressed Zanya softly.
'We've met before, haven't we?' said Zanya.
'Tell me about it,' said Drake.
'You were that demented fisherman's boy we dragged out of the sea near a horizon from Cam. That was before I'd first set foot on Stokos.'
'Aye, that was me,' said Drake.
'Then you came to me again,' said Zanya, with undisguised anger in her voice.
'I did?' said Drake, all injured innocence.
'In the leper colony. You tried to rape me!'
This woman could obviously carry a grudge for a long time. Drake tried to think. How was he going to handle this one? He looked to the wizard Miphon for help - but that worthy was staring at a low-skimming seagull, as if in love with the thing.
'Man,' said Drake, thinking quickly, 'I jumped you, I'll not deny it. But I didn't get very far, did I? You punched me over something fearful.'
'Failure excuses nothing,' said Zanya.
'Man,' said Drake, 'then let the truth excuse me. It was my body which made the attempt, but not my will. For I wasn't truly myself. I was under the command of witchcraft. Someone worked the Black Arts on me.'
Zanya turned to Miphon.
'Is this true?' she said.
'What?' said Miphon, jerking upright, startled, as if woken out of a dream.
'This - this pirate says it was witchcraft that made him try to rape me. Is that true?'
'That is hardly for me to say,' said Miphon, blandly, 'for I, as a wizard, know nothing of witchcraft.'
Zanya snorted.
'Your excuse,' she said to Drake, 'lets you live. But don't presume that your excuse gives you permission to speak to me.'
'I'll find the permission I want, in time,' said Drake.
Fortunately, he said it in his native Ligin, which Zanya did not understand. She did not ask for a translation, but sat talking quietly with Oronoko as the cutter made its way south toward Drangsturm.
Near evening, after a long, hot day of idling calms and desultory breezes, the cutter landed her passengers at the western end of Drangsturm, where the awesome upthrust of the Castle of Controlling Power stood guard against the Swarms. Drake was dismayed to see that the flame trench did not run all the way to the sea. Instead, a buffer of basalt two hundred paces broad separated flame from sea.
'Man,' said Drake, pointing at the bare rock, where only a low parapet protected north from south, 'this is right daft, having a hole like this in our defence.'
'The rocks of this fire dyke are so hot they'd explode if the cold sea touched them,' explained Miphon. 'Hence the plug of rock. It's a killing ground. Don't worry - little has crossed it in the last four thousand years.'
And he led the way toward the nearest gate of the castle. That castle, its jumbled walls and towering spires flung upwards as if at random, looked as if it had been fathered by earthquake and mothered by a bad-tempered volcano.
'Why stands the castle in such strange array?' said Drake.
'Because it was not built by human hand,' said Miphon. 'How was it built then?'
'Wizards united their power to call from the ocean legion upon legion of squid and of octopus. Yea, even the might of the kraken was summoned to the building. Hence the intelligence you see in the stone is not that of mortal men.'
'That's a strange way to build,' said Drake.
'But a quick one,' said Miphon. 'The castle was built in a night. It had to be done by dark, since the creatures we worked with hate the light. That explains, you see, some of the flaws in the construction.'
'Oh,' said Drake.
Then stopped, pointing south.
'Look! A league south! Men!'
'Southsearchers, that's all,' said Miphon. 'They've started out on patrol. They march mostly by night, since the Swarms sleep then. By day they shelter.'
'Do the Southsearchers dare themselves that way?' said Drake, pointing westward, in the direction of Ling.
'Lands west do not concern us,' said Miphon.
'Have you tried to explore those lands?'
'Why should we? There's no profit in exploration.'
'Man,' said Drake, 'there might be cities out there, aye, cities built of gold. Or lands of pearl diving, perhaps.'
He was trying to find out whether his knowledge of the existence of Ling might have some value in the market place. His hopes were disappointed when Miphon laughed and said:
'Perhaps. But we're rich as it is, for all trade between the Inner Waters and the Drangsturm Gulf passes through the Confederation's hands. Come on, let's not stand here chattering.'
'What trade is that you speak of?' said Drake.
'The trade in sponges, pearls, slaves, crocodile skin, whale oil, scrimshaw and keflo shell, amongst other things. The Galish kafilas take such north along the Salt Road, together with siege dust of wizard manufacture, and other things. And it is with the Galish that you yourself, in all probability, will soon be going.'
'Soon?' said Drake.
'Depending,' said Miphon, 'on what the Confederation decides to do about your case.'
'My case?' said Drake. 'Man, what are you talking about?'
'You are, after all, a pirate,' said Miphon, 'or an associate of such. I bear you no will. As for the Confederation - well, we own no ships, and none of the sea reavers ventures this far south. Hence we suffer nothing from pirates. But, even so, the Confederation cannot lightly accept the presence of a lawless pirate in the heart of power.'
'Man,' said Drake, 'I'm a very law-abiding boy! Famous for it! Man, I'm meak, mild, honest, upright, and sober as a sledgehammer. You'll get no trouble out of me.'
He desperately wanted to win the trust of the wizards, so that he would be at liberty to use his wiles on Zanya Kliedervaust. But, shortly after passing through the nearest gate of the Castle of Controlling Power, Drake found himself taken in charge by some blue-uniformed Landguard troopers, and thrown into a prison cell to await the pleasure of the Confederation.
19
The Galish: the nomadic trading people of the Salt Road, that trade route which runs up the western flank of Argan from Drangsturm to Narba, to Veda, Selzirk and Runcorn, through Chorst and Dybra to Estar, up the Hollern River to Lake Armansis, to Larbster Bay on the coast of the Penvash Channel, then from D'Waith along the southern seaboard of the Ravlish Lands, ultimately finishing up in Chi'ash-lan in the Cold West.
'Justice delayed is justice denied.'
So believed the Confederation of Wizards.
Therefore, at noon the next day, a subcommittee of the Confederation gathered to consider the case of Arabin lol Arabin, a pirate or associate of pirates left stranded on Burntos after an unexplained brawl.
Unfortunately, the subcommittee decided it was right and proper for them to sentence him to death - and they duly did so. Fortunately, the sentence was suspended. Unfortunately, the subcommittee ruled that the sentence was to be carried out if Arabin lol Arabin had not gone north by nightfall.
A Galish kafila was leaving that very afternoon; Miphon made sure that his young guest went with it.
'Man,' said Drake, as they parted, 'I'd like to stay just a day or two longer. Why, I haven't even had a good look at Drangsturm yet. That's all I ask - just a day as a tourist or such, so I can tell my grandchildren all about it.'
'Knowing you.' said Miphon, who was a better judge of
character than Drake thought he was,
'one extra day would give you unlimited opportunities for getting into trouble. Anyway,theJusticeCommitteemakesnojokes - ifyou're not gone by dusk, you really will get your head chopped of f.' 'And if I return?'
'If you return, your fate will be the same. So . . . till we meet again.'
They clasped hands. Briefly. Then the Galish camel caravan set off. They camped by the roadside that night. Drake, his mind hot with thoughts of Zanya Kliedervaust, planned to slip away in the dark and dare his way back to Drangsturm. But the Galish tied him hand and foot before they went to bed.
'You can't do this to me!' said Drake. 'This is outrageous!'
'The wizard Miphon has paid us to take you all the way to Narba,' came the reply. 'So take you to Narba we will.'
It was a long way to Narba - a journey of well over a hundred leagues, on which Drake acquired an abiding hatred of that execrable hunchback, the camel. All the way he plotted and schemed. He would have Zanya Kliedervaust. He must! That was what his flesh demanded. That would be his revenge on Sully Yot and Gouda Muck. And ... if he could convert Zanya away from the worship of Muck, no doubt she could help free the rest of Stokos from that same weird cult.
'It's not for myself that I want her,' said Drake to Drake. 'No, I want her because I'm a patriot. She's part of the key to the liberation of Stokos, aye, and the restoration of good King Tor.'
At Narba, he would turn back and make for the south again. Only: he would make very sure that he stole a horse for the journey, not a camel.
The kafila reached Narba.
And the Galish handed Drake over to the harbour
guard, and he was marched off to the harbour jails and
imprisoned without explanation.
* * *
The harbour jail boasted two rows of twenty cells, with a central corridor running between them. Drake knew not how many of those cells were inhabited, for he was denied a guided tour; instead, he was locked up without ceremony, and left to stew.
'This is a right mess,' muttered Drake, exploring the confines of his one-dwarf cell, which did not take long at all.
A little rudimentary light guttered through a rat-squeeze window, breeding shadows amongst the heaps of stinking damp straw covering the floor.
