The Walrus and the Warwolf coaaod-4

by Hugh Cook

  Watashi's private torture chamber was a soundproof room containing a narrow wooden bench, which bore a number of ominous russet stains, and many ugly implements of iron. Drake did his thinking – and fast. Clearly, posing as an innocent peddler was not going to save him. He would lose one or more bits of himself unless he did something drastic – and fast.Ungagged, Drake spoke quickly:

  'Man, before we go much further, there's something you ought to know.''What's that?' said Jarl.'Man, I'm not a peddler at all,' said Drake.

  'I didn't for a moment think that you were,' said Jarl. 'What are you then?''I'm an ambassador. From King Tor.''Tor?' said Jarl, blankly.

  'Aye, man! Rightful king of Stokos! He's giving your troops a hell of a battering right now, in Hok.' 'Is he?' said Jarl, with indifference. 'There's more,' babbled Drake. 'Tor has promised me

  his daughter's hand in marriage. That makes me rightful heir to Stokos. Don't you understand? That makes me an enemy of the Harvest Plains. You turn me over to the law courts, you'll be famous. Aye. They'll put me on trial, I'll get chopped to pieces, and you'll be a hero.'

  'Bullshit,' said Jarl. 'The most bullshit I've ever heard in my life.''Why would I say it unless it was true?' said Drake.

  'For you're the type who makes unlimited trouble once you get hold of a lawyer,' said Jarl. 'I know your sort! Haul you into a court of law and you prove immortal! Well, you '11 not prove immortal here, I'd swear my life to that.'

  Jarl's analysis was fairly accurate. Drake was no stranger to argument. He had lost count of the number of trials he had attended – manyofthemhisown.He'dbeenontrialforhis life in places as far apart as the Iron Palace of Cam and the Castle of Controlling Power. He'd faced Jon Arabin's kind of justice on the deck of the Warwolf,ioo. He'd rather be in a court of law than a torture chamber any day of the year.

  'Man,' said Drake, 'this war in Hok threatens the very life of the Harvest Plains. You could use me as a hostage, aye, there's a thought, send messengers into Hok to see if Tor wants to buy me. That way you could buy peace.'

  'Selzirk cares nothing for Hok,' said Jarl. 'A few soldiers chasing bandits in the hills – what's that to the city? Nothing!'T'ma-'

  'Shut up!'.said Jarl. 'Whatever you mean to Tor or Stokos, that's nothing to Selzirk. Only a mad ego could make you think yourself that important.'

  'Oh,' said Drake, 'sol'mof no importance. Is that right! Then how about letting me out of here?'

  'Tell me who helped you steal the bard and you can go,' said Jarl.

  'I'd tell if I knew but I don't!' shouted Drake. 'Don't you understand that?'' Strap him down!' said Jarl. His men moved to obey.

  'You'll get nothing out of me,' said Drake, as he was strapped to the torture bench. 'Never!''Cut off his feet,' said Jarl, curtly.

  'No!' screamed Drake, as a man applied saw to ankle. 'No, no, I confess, I did it, I'll tell anything, everything.'The sawman paused.'Who was with you then?' said Jarl.

  'Andranovory,' said Drake. 'We talked it up together. Him and me. And Erhed, yes, Erhed, that's the one, you'll find him at the Eagle. They were both in on it. We stole the bard. We stole the papers. An'vory had them last. He was supposed to share out the money to all. I've not had my share yet, get it off him when you catch him.''Descriptions,' said Jarl crisply.

  'Well,' said Drake, 'An'vory, he's simple. Enough hair on his head to mop a floor. But a bit missing up topside – maybe someone scalped him or something. Black beard, great pouches under his eyes and such.'

  Drake gave a workable description of Atsimo Andranovory, whom he had first met on the docks of Cam the day after his sixteenth birthday. He had more trouble describing Erhed, who was so insignificant that even his best friends would have been hard put to decently describe him to a stranger. But he did his best.

  Thodric Jarl was so pleased with this information that he quite forgot to interrogate Drake about the whereabouts of Rolf Thelemite, the oath-breaker. Instead, he had Drake thrown into solitary confinement, and went off to organize a raid. That very evening, Jarl and a dozen of his men raided the Eagle in Jone, capturing Andranovory and Erhed.

  Jarl and his party bound their captives hand and foot, put them into sacks, threw the sacks onto a cart, then started the return journey from Jone to Santrim. They had got almost as far as Kesh when they were ambushed by members of the criminal fraternity.

  Thodric Jarl was good at what he did. He had almost, won his little war when ninety soldiers from Kesh surrounded the scene of combat and arrested everyone in sight, including two whores who had stopped to watch the fun and a debt collector who had been trying to go about his lawful business. Interrogations proceeded.

  Meanwhile, Drake, alone in his cell, thought things through. Why had Selzirk executed the three ambassadors sent by King Tor? Well – it was entirely possible Selzirk had done no such thing. Drake's only knowledge of the executions came from a sucker-fool encountered dockside in Jone. Drake had swallowed his story without hesitation – but it had quite possibly been a fabrication.

  Anyway, JarPs response had been a good indication of how things stood, surely. Being associated with Tor was hardly certain death. Particularly since the association was ancient. So he could breathe a little easier. So what now?Lawyers, that's the thing!

  The next day, Drake, to his great surprise, was taken from his place of confinement to have an audience with the Kingmaker Farfalla and with Plovey of the Regency.

  'It was wrong of my son to arrest you,' said Farfalla, with a glance at Plovey.'Very wrong,' said the Regency official gravely.

  T thought as much!' said Drake. 'Right, I'll get a lawyer! There'll be writs and damages and compensations and such. Unless your son wants to settle out of court, perhaps. Very cheap, ma'am – I'll settle for half my own weight in gold.''Not so fast!' said Plovey.

  'Oh, it won't be fast, law is slow, yes, but we'll get there in the end.'

  'There are other matters to be cleared up first,' said Plovey.

  'Yes,' said Farfalla. 'Before anything else is attended to, you must tell us what you know about the death-stone.'

  'That's easily done,' said Drake. 'For I know nothing about any death-stone. Now, about my lawyer-'

  'Young man,' said Plovey, cutting across his enthusiasm, 'we know that you know about the weapon your master Morgan Hearst was in search of. There's other things we want to know about, too. The secret underground way between the far north and the Araconch Waters. And other things. The madness of the magic stones, for one.'

  'Magic stones?' said Drake. 'Is it fairy tales you're after? Man, I could tell you a famous fairy tale, yes. With elves in it, aye, and a friendly dwarf with a red nose, and a talking rabbit, and-''The truth!' said Plovey. 'That's what we want!'

  'Then the truth is that I know nothing of this Heist or Hest or whatever his name was, nothing of his magic stones or balls or cats' eyes or whatever they were, and nothing of any underground way, excepting one which lies in Penvash, which I'll be happy enough to tell for you.'

  'We want no story-stories about Penvash. Only the truth!'

  'Man, there are great truths about Penvash. Listen – there's a Door up there. It goes from place to place, just a single step to take you a thousand leagues or more. Man, with that, you people could conquer the world.'

  'No more of your foolery!' said Plovey. 'The truth! About Hearst! The stone! The madness! The dragons! The way! The wars!'

  'This,' said Farfalla, in a quiet yet determined voice, 'is important to us.''But I've told you-'

  'Take him to the Deep,' said Plovey, grimly. 'Leave him there until he's ready to tell the truth.'

  Guards threw Drake into the Deep, a cell awash with sewage and swarming with pythogenic vermin. He was in there scarcely long enough to scream his surrender. Then he began to sing, oh yes, sweetly as anything. All the tavern-talk he'd heard from Andranovory and others came out of him as slick as vomit.

  '. . . then Alish smashed Erhed on the head with a rock. Ah, brutal ugly it was! Alish wanted to k
ill him off for dragon-meat. When? Aagh, the day after Poxquill was killed by the basilisk. How? Man, it breathed on him. Or else looked him eye-to-eye. Kills either way, yes. An ugly little brute of a thing, scarce as long as my forearm. But Hearst killed it from behind, so we ate that, and Poxquill too . . .'

  At first his interrogators seemed to believe everything. For, as Drake was swiftly learning, human beings are very credulous creatures, with no reservoirs of disbelief worth mentioning. But, after he had been singing sweetly for ten days and a half, Plovey came to visit him:

  'Young man,' he said, 'you stand in danger of compromising your anatomy, if not your life. For the tale you have told us fails to match that told by Andranovory and others.'

  'Man,' said Drake. 'I'll tell anything to please. What do you want to hear?'

  'You already know the answer to that,' said Plovey. 'The truth!'

  'Man,' said Drake. 'I'd tell the truth, but you'd never believe it. Why, it was the truth itself which made me champion liar of Selzirk, aye, champion of your city of filth and sewers. A truth I told about Doors and monster-fights and such, that's what did it.'

  'I want the truth,' said Plovey. 'I'll get it from you dead or alive.'

  'You'll not get much from me once I'm dead!' said Drake.

  .'You'd be surprised,' said Plovey, 'of the powers of some of our thaumaturgists. Torturers, take him away!'

  So Drake obliged with the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. As he had expected, it did him no good whatsoever.

  'That won't do,' said his torturer, and sank a bodkin into Drake's testicles.Drake screamed.

  'Plovey!' he screamed. 'Get Plovey of the Regency, I'll tell it to him, anything, anything.'

  The torturer, who wanted the afternoon off so he could visit his grandmother (who was near enough to ninety, and feeling her age) arranged for Drake to have the interview he requested.Plovey manifested himself.

  'What do you wish to discuss with me, dear boy?' asked Plovey.

  'Proof!' said Drake. 'The proof of poison. Read my story, man, it's all written down there, scribes and all have been hacking away at it for days. The story tells you I suffer no harm from poison. I'll take poison as the proof of it.'

  'What poison would you have us give you?' asked Plovey gently.

  'Why, anything that's lethal! Arsenic, strychnine, ratsbane, hemlock, cyanide or worse. Or you could set snakes to bite me, aye, or scorpions, or wild dogs foaming at the mouth, whatever you want. It's proof, proof, man, proof by Investigation, that's what you'd be doing, Investigating me, yes.'

  'Darling one,' said Plovey, stroking Drake's hand. 'Do you think to escape us so easily? I don't want you dead. Not till I've had the truth from you.'

  'But,' said Drake, desperately, 'you can risk my death, surely. You said you had magic people and such who could get the truth from me even if I were dead.'

  'Oh yes, oh yes,' said Plovey. 'So I do, indeed. But the work of thaumaturgists is slow, and the expense is appalling. No, my dear young friend – no poison.'

  'But I don't want it to kill myself!' wailed Drake. 'I want it to prove my story!'Plovey soothed Drake's sweating brow.

  'Darling boy,' said Plovey, 'you'll never come within a thousand years of poison. Not while I've got anything to do with it.''But you must let me prove my story!'

  'You cannot,' said Plovey, running a gentle hand over the nape of Drake's neck. Smiling. Sweetly. 'You cannot prove your story, for that's all it is. A story. Nonsense about flying ships and sea serpents. What we want, my dear, is the truth. That's all.'

  'Would you like my body?' asked Drake, hoping desperately. 'We could come to a very nice arrangement.'

  'Ah, darling boy!' said Plovey. T regret to say I have never been able to conjure up a lust for male flesh. So many opportunities lost! Yet the sad truth is, I like women only. I'm married to one. She satisfies my needs entirely.'

  'Then tell me tell me tell me,' said Drake. 'Please, please, for the love of mercy, tell me what the others are saying, so I can say it too. I only want to please. For the love of mercy, tell!'

  'I love not mercy,' said Plovey, making ready to leave. 'Only justice. Be assured, dear boy, that everything done to you here is entirely legal. Torture is an acknowledged road to truth, and we will follow that road until we get the truth.'

  He left, humming to himself, ease in his stride and confidence in his carriage.

  The next day, Drake was strapped down for torture as per usual, but there was a change in the normal routine. For, instead of his usual interrogators, in came Thodric Jarl.

  'They've brought me in on the case because they said you were proving hard to break,' said Jarl. 'I'm sure we can soon change that. Cut off his feet!'And a minion set saw to ankles.

  'Stop! Stop!' screamed Drake. 'I'll tell, I'll tell, anything, everything.'

  'Oh, we've heard that before,' said Jarl. 'This time we're going to cut your feet off to show you we mean business. Then we can start thinking about serious torture.'Jarl nodded to the man with the saw.The blade ripped into Drake's flesh.Drake screamed. Then:'Stop!'cried a voice.

  It was Plovey, from the Regency. Rescue! Yes, Drake was sure of it. Just from the look in Plovey's eyes he knew. The man had come with news which would save him.

  'Why are you interfering?' asked Jarl. 'We were near to breaking him.'

  'I'm interfering,' said Plovey, in excitement, 'because his story may well be true. Let him loose! Bandage his wounds!'

  So Drake was released, and bandages put on his ankles, where the saw had cut through his thin shin-flesh right down to the bone. Then he was led from the torture chamber to another place entirely, a long hall lined with tapestries. Many men stood on either side.

  ' Walk down the hall, dear boy,' said Plovey.' Walk down the hall, looking to left and to right. Stop when you see someone you know.''Very well,' said Drake.

  He walked. Looking to left and to right. So many men. How normal they looked! Neat beards, clean clothes, well-fed faces. As if the whole world was not a rolling nightmare but a place where decent folk could live decent lives untroubled. Aye. Well. Perhaps, from their point of view. . .

  Inthathall, amongst so many people, Drake felt the desolation of utter loneliness. None of these people cared for him. He meant nothing to them. He experienced a surge of nostalgia for his time in the Collosnon prison pit on the island of Chag-jalak, when he had shared food with Whale Mike, Salaman Meerkat and all those others .Aye. Ish Ulpin with his walnuts. Jon Disaster and the orange. Harly Burpskin, dragging out that great wodge of salami.

  Aye. With friends it's not so bad. Whatever happens. I wish I was with those jokers now. Those that still live.Drake stopped.'This man,' he said, 'this man's Andranovory.''Yes,' said Plovey, mildly. 'Yes, we know that.'

  'I'll kill you!' said Andranovory, who did not try to do any such thing since he was standing between two soldiers. 'A traitor twice!'

  'Betrayed you?' said Drake. 'Man, you and your stories got me into so much trouble-' 'There was Burntos-' 'At Burntos-'

  'Now now,' said Plovey, in soothing tones. 'Come along, we've business to attend to.'

  And on down the hall they went, until Drake stopped again.

  'This,' said Drake, 'is Melf Keif, the burlesque actor from the Harlequin Theatre.'

  'Why, so it is,' said Plovey. 'It's months since I've been: I must go again. Come along now, he's not the man we're interested in.'

  'Who are we interested in, then?' said Drake. 'And where do all these people come from?'

  'Most of these people are tax defaulters,' said Plovey. 'We use them for . . . for what we do in this hall. It's part of their punishment for them to thus part with their time. Andranovory – why, he was just there for my own amusement. But the people we're really interested in – why, march on, and keep your eyes about you. You'll see.'

  And on down the hall they went. Drake wondered what the hell was going on in this hall. He still didn't understand. Maybe he should think it through. But he
was so worn, so tired. Shattered. Aye. Like a cracked-up statue just ready to fall into pieces. A friend. If only a friend-But-Who was that? Was it. . .? Yes, it was!

  'Jon!' cried Drake. 'Jon Arabin! Oh Jon, man, it's sweet to see you! You've saved me, Jon!'

  And, crying out thus, he ran in delight to the man he had recognized. It was indeed Jon Arabin, the Warwolf himself. Who would make everything all right. Who would tell Plovey it was all true, everything Drake said, he meant to tell the truth, he wanted to tell truths, had told them.

  'Jon!' said Drake, joyfully. 'How did you get here? You've saved my life!'

  'If I've saved yours then you've cost me mine,' said Arabin heavily. 'I had them half-way convinced I was a Galish merchant until you came in.'

  Drake, shocked, stepped back. His face seemed to wreck itself. His mouth crumpled into misery. He moaned. Next moment, he was weeping.

  'You weren't to know,' said Arabin. 'You weren't to know.'

  And he stepped forward, meaning to embrace Drake. But guards grabbed Arabin, and other guards grabbed Drake. Both struggled as Jon Arabin was marched away.Plovey put a hand on Drake's shoulder.

  'That's good,' said Plovey. 'That's good. You've proved our prisoner to be the man we thought he was. You've also proved your story.'

  'You bastard!' sobbed Drake. 'You filthy bastard! You made me betray my best friend!'

  'I,' said Plovey, smoothly, sadly, 'am but a servant of the law. You've proved your story – is that not something? Come, walk on. The game's not finished.'

  'I'll not hunt out anyone else for you,' said Drake. 'I'd rather die!'

  'Nevertheless,' said Plovey, 'walk on down the hall. Walking can do no harm, can it? Come now, darling boy – proceed. Or would you rather be dragged?'Drake proceeded.

  And, while he had thought he would betray no others to Plovey, suddenly he saw a familiar face, a green-haired green-bearded green-eyed face belonging to a gangling man with extra-long arms, each arm ending in a double-thumbed fist.

  'You!' said Drake, jabbing a finger at the Walrus as if to kill him. T know who you are, standing there so sweet and innocent!'