The Walrus and the Warwolf

by Hugh Cook

  'Where did we meet again? Why, on Burntos - an island to which I went on a ship then engaged in honest trade. Briefly we met, but, after a few days, parted.

  'We next met in an arena in the city of Dalar ken Halvar. I was tumbled there by a kind of magic. And if the Court doubts that, they can ask the fair and most beautiful lady Zanya for the proof of it, for there she sits by that old fellow there who's wearing the straw hat.'

  'Take that hat off!' shouted Judge Syrphus, who had not until then noticed that anyone was wearing a hat in his court.

  'Why,' said Drake, as the hat came off. 'Now we can see her plainer. Aye, and a beautiful sight she makes. We were reunited, as I've told, when I'd been tumbled by magic to an arena built for killing.

  'There she stood, tied to a slaughter post. Aye, and there were monsters afoot in the arena, huge things brutal with teeth and claws.

  T was rightly minded to run, for my legs were wet with terror. Aye, and the magic which had tumbled me to the arena gave me a Door I could have fled through, tricing away in an instant. But no. She were of such beauty that I could not leave her for the slaughter.

  'So I drew the steel I carried, as every pirate must be he cook's boy or captain. And I went chest to chest with the monster, aye, and slaughtered it. My one act as a hero. And it was for her that I killed.

  'Thus she was with me when I came to Runcorn to go to work as a cook. And a hard life we had there, aye, always so much to be done, we'd scarce time to kiss twice in a day. Which was a fault of circumstances, not of she or me.

  'Since then, as you've heard, she's been guardian of the purity of Gouda Muck. We've not heard from Muck exactly what that means, though I've got my own ideas about it: And if I've any quarrel with Gouda Muck, then it's over this woman. For, as the Court's heard tell, in Selzirk I went seeking my woman from Muck.

  'Aye. And might have got her back, except I was arrested on false charges, for which I've since been pardoned. Arrested. Thrown into a dungeon. No light, no air, no food, no water. Darkness. Rats. Chains. Terror. Torture. Day on day unyielding. Only one thing kept me alive, and that were thinking of my fair pure Zanya.'

  Mention of purity naturally brought to mind the question of appetite. How to deal with that one?

  Speak from the heart, man. Things are getting too complicated. No time for more lies. So speak from the heart.

  'Zanya. Yes.

  T lusted for her. That I'll not deny.

  'My lust, in part, was frankly carnal. Sometimes women are insulted by such lust, for lust is an appetite, so some think that to be lusted for is to be devoured, as a dead fish is devoured at table. But one does not go chest to chest with a monster for the sake of a dead fish. Nay. Even a starving man would not duel it out with a monster for a dead fish.

  'Together with my lust was my love also. It was love which made me fight that monster. Love at first sight.

  'Sometimes I'm right hungry, man, and I sit down at table with my friends. Like animals we go at it, aye, teeth, lips, tongue, in and out, sweat, saliva - a regular meal for our hunger. But when it's over, we don't look on each other with disgust. For we're friends, yes, and to share the meal of our appetites is but to share bur friendship, aye, our very love for each other.

  'That's why we eat together at table, instead of satisfying our hungers in squalid solitude, one in each corner alone. And ... is not the hunger mutual?'

  Then Drake looked at Zanya, looked long and with longing, saying nothing. Until finally Judge Syrphus, puzzled, said:

  'The accused seems to have lost the thread of his argument. Has he anything further to say to the Court reference the testimony of Gouda Muck?'

  'Nothing, my lord judge,' said Drake, still gazing on Zanya, 'for I have spoken my heart out, and have nothing more to say.'

  'Then let the prosecutor call his next witness,' said the judge.

  And the prosecutor called Zanya Kliedervaust to the witness stand.

  54

  Name: Zanya Kliedervaust.

  Description: healthy high-breasted woman, red skin, red hair, white teeth.

  Birthplace: Unch, on Lebrew (largest of the Ebrell Islands).

  Career: priestess of Orgy God of the Ebrells; convert to Goudanism; missionary to Parengarenga; martyr in Dalar ken Halvar; survivor in Penvash; Drake's woman in Runcorn; Gouda Muck's mistress in Selzirk.

  'In the witness stand is Zanya Kliedervaust, formerly of the Ebrell Islands,' said the prosecutor. 'She will shortly give testimony which will doom the evil Drake Douay to a living death in the deepest, darkest, filthiest rat-infested dungeon we can find for him.

  'But before we hear her testimony, let me untangle the web woven by Drake Douay for public display. He has posed as a poor, meek, ignorant apprentice. But his own performance proves him shrewd, quick-witted, dangerously intelligent and amazingly cunning in cross-examination.

  'This man could very well have been Arabin lol Arabin, behaving as described in The Book of Witness. There's nothing meek, mild or safe or law-abiding about him. Plainly, he's copied the style of an excellent lawyer. I put it to the Court that the lawyer in question was, in all

  probability, the Garimanthea mentioned in The Book of Witness.

  'The accused tries to dismiss that document because it says he read a single word from a certain Record. Now, four or five years ago, he may not have known the letter Ac0wa; from any other. But he's had time since to learn to read and write half a dozen different languages, if he chose.'

  'Time, yes,' interjected Drake. 'But no opportunity.'

  'Opportunity, surely,' said the prosecutor, 'to learn how to read one simple word like "No." In any case, The Book of Witness does not say Arabin lol Arabin read from the Record, only that he called attention to its contents. If the accused is indeed illiterate, then his lawyer could have told him what lay in the Record for him to call attention to.

  'The accused would also have us believe he cried "I am Arabin lol Arabin" when he meant to say something entirely different. Judge his perfomance today! Not one slip, pause, stammer or stutter. Not a single word out of place. This speaks of an accomplished orator - or an accomplished liar. Or of both.

  'The accused has a highly trained mind. As Gouda Muck told us, the accused studied on Stokos, sharpening his wits by learning theory of all description by heart. How can we believe he'd let his tongue trip upside down when it came to saying a few simple words to a crowd? He speaks well - and the very eloquence which defends him condemns him.

  'He said to the crowd that he was Arabin lol Arabin. Doubtless that was what he meant. So much for his rhetoric! Now to our witness. You are Zanya Kliedervaust, born on the Ebrells?'

  'Iam,' she said.

  'What did you there?'

  'I was priestess of the Orgy God.'

  'What did that involve?'

  'Being used by men in the way of lust.'

  'And did you like that?'

  'No. How could I? For they treated me as meat. What way is that to treat a woman? They were rough. They used cruel language. They bruised me. They did things which I would not like to speak of in Court, or out of it either.'

  'Then we'll not ask you about such,' said the Prosecutor. 'Now. You first met Gouda Muck when?'

  'When I travelled to Stokos, having left the Ebrells, for I was sick of the life there, which had killed out my family entire. Always drinking, fighting, feuding, gambling—'

  'Yes, yes. But Muck. What reception did he give you, on Stokos?'

  'Oh, it was wonderful,' said Zanya.

  She described her conversion to Goudanism. She revelled in her memories of those glorious days. Muck had taught her a woman could be pure. Which meant being free from that horrible business of being bruised, used, rucked, fisted, slathered and taken - again and again and again. Then abandoned.

  'So you converted to a religion of purity,' said the prosecutor. 'What then?'

  T went to the world as a missionary. In time, I was martyred in the arena at Dalar ken Halvar. And ther
e . . . as Drake said, he saved me.'

  'At that time, did he strike you as meek, mild, pious and law-abiding?'

  'Why, no,' said Zanya. 'He came like a hero. He killed monsters right and left. Then said words to me, marvellous words, which thrilled my blood. I can't remember what they were, but they were . . . yes, wonderful. Then we were whirled away by magic to the forests of Penvash.'

  'What magic is this?' inquired Judge Syrphus.

  Confused explanations followed, which did not entirely satisfy the Court. But there was no helping the lack of satisfaction, so the subject was dropped.

  'And in Penvash,' said the prosecutor, 'did Drake treat you with purity?'

  'Why,' said Zanya, 'he lay with me to keep me warm. But that was as far as it went.'

  'By warmth,' said the prosecutor, thinking this was no time for euphemisms, 'I suppose you mean the vile, filthy, unholy ways of lust.'

  'Well, no,' said Zanya, 'I mean it was cold, so two bodies were warmer than one.'

  'Oh,' said the prosecutor, momentarily nonplussed.

  The prosecutor, looking through his notes, started to wish his pretrial interview with this witness had not been so cursory.

  'Are you sure,' said the prosecutor, 'that you're telling the truth? I mean - you were alone in the forest with this man. Wouldn't it be natural for him to force you? He was a pirate, after all. Could you have forgotten?'

  'Perhaps you're in the habit of forgetting a rape,' said Zanya, 'but I'm not so casual about it.'

  Laughter rocked the court. The prosecutor, flustered, dropped his notes. The judge called for order. And Zanya cast her mind back to those days in Penvash. Drake had not taken her then. No, not until they reached the southern border of Estar. And then ... as he said, the hunger was mutual.

  In Runcorn, when Yot had explained that Drake was in fact the dreaded son of the demon Hagon, the incarnation of all evil, the shock had initially unbalanced her. By then, too, she had had genuine grievances against Drake - for, while in Runcorn, he had become so deeply involved with the business of government that he had grown hard, curt and brusque, using her in ways which seemed rushed and loveless.

  But. . . was he the son of a demon? Hardly. And . . .

  'Are you sure,' said the prosecutor, 'that you have given us a correct account of events in Penvash? Are you frightened of this man Drake? Do you want him removed from the Court while you give evidence?'

  'No,' said Zanya. 'No, it's quite all right. He never . . . he never did anything to frighten me. He talked of... of love, yes. That was in Penvash. Much later, when he took me he was ... he cared. He knew things no other man had known - or, if they knew, they never cared to do it. Like

  running tongue from inner thigh to the lips of my—' 'That's enough!' said the prosecutor, sharply. 'Are you

  trying to scandalize the Court?' 'What do you want me to say?'

  'The truth! But not - nothing about sexual intimacies. That's - that's impure. Your master Gouda Muck would have told you as much.'

  'Why, no,' said Zanya. 'Quite the reverse. For, as guardian of his purity, I have to serve him in the ways of flesh. But that's pure, you know, when it's done with someone holy. He likes to be licked in the—'

  'Silence!' roared the prosecutor.

  'Really,' said Judge Syrphus, 'there is no need for the prosecutor to bellow as if we were in the midst of a thunder storm. Go on, girl, tell us what Muck likes to have licked.'

  Zanya told.

  'Really?' said Judge Syrphus. 'How often? And when?'

  And Judge Syrphus led the examination for some considerable time thereafter, discovering the intimacies of the private life of Gouda Muck.

  'So,' said Judge Syrphus, when he knew all, 'it was pure and holy for Gouda Muck to use you in carnal ways, since he was a preacher who cared mostly for the religion he espoused, rather than for you yourself. On the other hand, Drake Douay loved you - or so I understand from what he earlier told the Court - therefore his lust for you was wrong. That sounds very strange to me.'

  'Yes,' said Zanya, slowly, 'very strange.'

  'But,' said the prosecutor, 'this case has nothing to do with sex. It is all to do with the public menace posed by Drake Douay to the religion, government, wealth and law of Selzirk, by reason of the devilish ability he showed in Runcorn, where he overthrew the lawful government and established a reign of terror and of abominable practices.'

  'I think, sir,' said Zanya, 'you stand in error. For it was not Drake Douay who did that, but Arabin lol Arabin. They are two entirely different people.'

  'You testify so?' said the prosecutor. 'I will have you swear to that by the Flame!'

  And Zanya so swore. Yes, swore it in a cool and steady voice, which none could doubt. She had changed since she had walked into that courtroom.

  For a start, she had learnt why Drake had abandoned his quest to reclaim her. He had not been roistering with lewd women, as she had imagined: instead, he had been suffering cruel imprisonment for crimes he never committed. And dreaming of his true love while he lay behind bars.

  Also, she had been given cause to cast her mind back to the glorious days in Penvash, when her love for Drake had first been kindled by the respect he had shown her and the protection he had given her from lustful pirates.

  She had also been made to remember his performance in the arena at Dalar ken Halvar. She had very clear, distinct memories of him killing at least two monsters, single-handedly, and maybe a third as well. And what were the first words he had said to her, as he cut her loose? As she remembered it now, they were:

  T love you.'

  All this gave her cause to make a final decision on her commitment to Goudanism. Effortlessly, she abandoned her belief in the Flame. Her faith had been steadily weakening for a long time now. Indeed, when she had first learnt in Runcorn that Drake was the one accused of being the son of the demon Hagon, at least half her shock had been at the way he had failed to trust her with the knowledge of the accusations.

  But now...

  All was forgiven.

  Judge Syrphus refused to hear further argument, but, instead, gave judgment and summed up:

  'The case against Drake Douay is of course dismissed. It represents, as any fool can see, an attempt by a dirty old man to remove a sexual rival who is a younger and altogether more attractive man. The Court is satisfied that

  Drake Douay is indeed meek, mild and pious, and entirely lacking in political ambition.

  'He may have made one mistake in his youth, with respect to a cheap and nasty sword, one of the hundreds owned by Gouda Muck, but what of it? A young man is entitled to one mistake. Since then, he has lived humbly and quietly though he rose to the occasion and performed heroically when that was necessary for him to save his beloved lady.

  'Even though I'm having trouble meeting my quota, I'm letting Drake Douay go free, for that is only just.

  'Fortunately, Gouda Muck's own testimony shows him to be a dangerous, ambitious, reckless and destructive man. We have heard how he overthrew the rightful religion of Stokos, how he speaks with evil spirits dwelling within furnaces, and indulges in all manner of private perversion under the cloak of religion.

  'Consequently, I have no hesitation in ordering that a warrant be issued for the arrest of Gouda Muck, that he may be tried on a charge of being a public menace. And I appoint myself judge of his case!'

  Thus the trial came to an end.

  One of the spectators, who had watched the whole proceedings with interest, was Plovey of the Regency. After the trial, he met Drake and Zanya.

  'Darling boy,' said Plovey, to Drake. 'No! Say nothing hasty! We've had hard words between us in the past, I know. But did I not invite you to dine with me and my darling wife if you ever had the occasion?'

  'You did,' said Drake, thinking he should really kill Plovey on the spot.

  'Today, then,' said Plovey, 'I invite you to do more. I invite you, and your beloved, to enjoy the hospitality of my house. For a day - for fifty days,
if need be. For I have always admired you as a remarkable young man. Indeed, I may be able to hold out some prospect of gainful employment for you.'

  What kind of employment? Knifework, perhaps. Might pay well. And there would be time enough to murder Plovey later. Revenge - as others have noted - is a dish well worth eating even when cold.

  'Darling,' said Zanya, 'have we anywhere else to go?'

  Drake considered, and then:

  'It would be a crime,' he said, 'for me to refuse such generous hospitality.'

  Plovey had, amongst other things, aroused his curiosity: Drake was keen to learn exactly what kind of proposition the Regency bureaucrat had in mind.

  55

  Plovey zar Plovey: a career bureaucrat of the Regency; had a hand in the torture and interrogation of Drake Douay, and in the despatch of Drake to Androlmarphos with letters for Elkor Alish.

  By the time Drake and Zanya had finished kissing, Plovey had summoned a cab to take the three of them to Plovey's house, which was in Santrim. They climbed inside; the cabby flicked his whip; with a jingle of bells, the horse began to move; they were off.

  'We've won,' said Zanya.

  'So we have,' said Drake.

  They had salvaged their love from the wreckage of the past, and had made good their escape from the terrible machinery of the law.

  Drake and Zanya kissed.

  Plovey pretended not to notice.

  'Friend Drake,' said Plovey, 'would you like to live in Selzirk?'

  'If I could,' said Drake.

  'I'm sure you can,' said Plovey. 'A job should be no trouble, no trouble at all.'

  He did not elaborate, and Drake did not ask for details. Instead, he held Zanya's hand and watched the passing streets.

  'Here we are,' said Plovey, as the cab halted. 'This is my house.'

  Plovey paid off the cabby and led them through the gate and onto his own property.