by Hugh Cook
'Are you the herbalist with the master-wort for sale?' 'No … I come because my – my wife is sick.' 'And invisible into the bargain?' said Mystrel, looking around.'No, she's back at the town.' 'What, too sick to walk?' 'No, she-''Then bring her here! I can't read disease at a distance!'
Whereupon Drake hustled back to the town. At the inn, the innkeeper was still in conversation with his cronies.
'Did your sword find service with the kings?' said the innkeeper.'Not yet,' said Drake.
'Nay,' jeered one of the innkeeper's cronies. 'For-' The rest of what he said was in Churl, and Drake understood only enough to realize that something very rude was being said. Shrugging off the insult, he went to his rented room, where Zanya greeted him. Perhaps it was just Drake's imagination, but the blue sore at the side of Zanya's mouth seemed to have grown larger in his absence.'Come,' he said. 'We're going to see Mystrel.' 'Has she a cure?' said Zanya.
T know not what she has,' said Drake. 'That we'll discover when we get there:' As they were leaving the inn, a voice cried: 'Hey!''Keep walking,' murmured Drake to Zanya. 'Slowly.'
But he heard footsteps behind, following them out into the hot sunlight. So he turned to face his danger. The innkeeper had come outside, three of his friends with him.
'Yon woman's got a sore on her face,' said the innkeeper.
'Aye,' said Drake. 'A gadfly bit her.' 'No gadfly ever bit blue. That's a leper you've got there. A blue leper.'
'Man,' said Drake, 'whatever she is, we're leaving.' The innkeeper spat.
'Leaving? To spread plague through Lorford? Oh, not so easy!'
He nodded at one of his companions, who slipped away. To summon help? Doubtless. That left two men to back up the innkeeper. So Drake drew blade and challenged:'Which dies first?'
The three scarpered at the sight of his steel. Once they had retreated into the inn, Drake sheathed his blade. He was fit, strong and long-breathed – but, even so, his breath was whipping in and out as quick as a frog's tongue, and his heart was hammering as if it had fifty knives to forge by nightfall. Turning to Zanya, he saw she was crying.
'Love,' said Drake, 'none will hurt you while I've sword by my side.''They hate me!' she said, crying the more.
He kissed and soothed her as best he could, trying to appear calm although he was desperately impatient to be gone. Lorford was dangerous. When they did get clear of the town, he looked behind often to make sure there was no pursuit.
Zanya was sweating heavily by the time they reached the House of Health. As they entered the cool shadows within, Mystrel greeted them. She examined Zanya's face, and became grave.
'We have seen none of this for a season,' she said.
'What is it?' asked Drake, hoping she would give him an answer different to the one he knew.
'An illness,' said Mystrel. 'An illness which many fear. What is your name, love? Zanya? Then come in, Zanya, for there's a welcome for you amongst the women. We've met before, haven't we? I remember you by your red skin. Come! Why hesitate?'
'I'll not come inside,' said Zanya, with what bravery she could muster. 'No, not if I'll spread sickness.'
'This illness,' said Mystrel, with a glance at Drake. 'It's spread only when two lie together as a woman lies with a man.'
Mystrel led Zanya into a room for women, which Drake was forbidden to enter. Then she returned, and took Drake aside for serious talk.
'Likely you have the same disease yourself,' said Mystrel. 'Thus you must lie with no woman and with no man, or others will die of it.'
She was still counselling him when a young woman interrupted them.
'Shaga endevin, NickleV said Mystrel, slipping into her native Estral, a tongue unknown to Drake.'Inem preluce tint opsand,' replied the young woman.'Excuse me,' said Mystrel to Drake.
She made for the door. Curious, Drake followed. Standing in the shadows, he saw a lanky young man standing out in the sunlight.
'Oh no!' muttered Drake to Drake. 'Tell me it's not true!'
It was Sully Datelier Yot, his face crowded with as many warts as ever. On his head was a golden circlet of the type usually worn by princes in children's fairytales told on Stokos. This status symbol indicated pretensions to grandeur, but Drake doubted that Yot could have found real power under a regime run by sensible men like Morgan Hearst.'What do you want?' said Mystrel to Yot. 'To enter and search, in the name of the kings!''Get away with you,' said Mystrel, scornfully. 'Is Lord Blackwood here?'
'No,' said Mystrel. 'I'd have words for him if he was. It's about time he got rid of you, you posing priestling.'
At that, Yot used his strength on the woman. He shoved her so she staggered backwards. Yot strode toward the door – and Drake came forward to meet him.'Drake!'cried Yot.
'The same,' said Drake. 'With sword at side, as ever. What would you be wanting?'
'Some men in the town said blue lepers came this way. So they sent me to investigate.''Why you?' said Drake.'Because he's a regular troublemaker,' said Mystrel.
'Because I've built trust in the town, for I have the ear of Lord Blackwood,' said Yot. 'For good reason, too, for I've a sharp mind, which is what the times are needing. Drake – bring out the woman.''What woman?' said Drake.
'Your Ebrell bitch. We're looking for a woman red in skin and red in hair. That makes her of Ebrell. Your Zanya answers the case.'
'Man,' said Drake, wishing he had killed Yot years ago, 'Zanya I've not seen since she was sold into slavery in Selzirk. That was seven seasons ago, man.'Yot grinned.
'Away ran a woman red in hair and skin. With her ran a blond boy with a sword at his side.'
'Who do you call boy?' said Drake, drawing blade and advancing.
Yot danced away down the hill. Drake strode after him, hot for the kill. And saw, coming uphill, a dozen soldiers on horseback. They were very close.
'Prothero!' shouted Yot. 'There's the one we're looking for! Seize him!'
Drake, for all his fitness, could not outrun men on horseback. Nor did he try.
61
Sully Datelier Yot: was High Priest of the Flame on Stokos. When Swarms attacked Stokos, lost his nerve and fled the island with a band of supporters. Has been in Estar for three seasons; has small temple within the environs of Lorford, which has a total of seventy hard-core adherents of the Flame.
The soldiers, all from Lord Blackwood's personal bodyguard, were mounted on a motley bunch of horses. Armed and armoured in a bizarre range of fashions, they looked more like a band of brigands than a military unit. They arrested Drake on the spot.'Search inside!' said Yot.The soldiers demurred.
Yot screamed in anger. He threatened them with the wrath of Lord Blackwood. With beatings, gougings, torture, starvation and crucifixion. Reluctantly, the soldiers searched the House of Health until they found Zanya.
'Kill them both,' said Yot. 'Here! Now!' But the soldiers baulked at this. So Yot said: 'Then take them to my temple.'
'You do no such thing!' said Mystrel stoutly. 'If his temple gets hands on these innocents, they'll be dead in a blink. He talks about Lord Blackwood's wrath. Well I tell you this! Lord Blackwood will have no murder done in Lorford.'
'That's right!' cried Drake. 'Why, I knew him years ago when I was Estar's resident dragon-fighter. Man, he was
right hot on due process! That means courts, trials, procedures of law, high-paid flatulence by a dozen lawyers on each side, witnesses, evidences and such. Aye, and writs of all descriptions, each casting fifty times their own weight in gold.''Shut up, you!' said Yot.
He grabbed a sword, determined to kill Drake on the spot. But soldiers confiscated the sword before Yot could strike.
'You know your danger now,' said Mystrel, lying like a trooper. 'Our young friends worked for my husband for years in days gone by. They were personal friends. Lord Blackwood will kill you if you touch so much as a hair of their heads.''She lies!' said Yot, too hoarse to scream any more.
'Boys,' said one of the soldiers, 'however you look at it, we're in a mess.
Let's do nothing hasty.'
The soldiers considered their options, then did the sensible thing, and delivered both Drake and Zanya to the safety of the western gatehouse, there to be held until Higher Authority could decide their fate.
'Why, prisoners,' said the gaoler in delight, when Drake and Zanya were brought to the western gatehouse.'Is that so rare?' said Drake.
'Yes, for my masters believe in death, exile, floggings, fines or apologies, depending on the offence. Not caging people.'
'So under what authority are we held here now?' said Drake.'Why, under Master Yot's authority,' said the gaoler.'I suspect he's over-reached himself,' said Drake.
'Why, if he has, I'll gladly help you hang him,' said the gaoler, unlocking a prison cell. 'Meantimes, in you go!''First, I'd like a lawyer,' said Drake.
'Well, you're shit out of luck, young friend,' said the gaoler. 'For Lord Hearst hung every lawyer in Lorford on Midwinter's Day, by way of celebration. Come on, in you go! Don't look so jaw-fallen, it's pleasant enough within.'
Drake and Zanya went into the cell, which smelt of sandalwood. No mice, rats or roaches were in occupance: only shadows. The broad sleeping bench was draped with sheepskins which, on close examination, proved free from lice and fleas. All in all, it was, Drake had to admit, the cleanest, airiest, most comfortable prison cell he'd seen in his life. He still hated it.
Once they were locked in, Drake made Zanya comfortable and started Investigating his surroundings. A beam of light between two logs alerted him to the presence of a gap. Looking out, he saw a bit of a street.
People were gathering outside. Drake thought he saw a familiar face: the innkeeper he had so lately lodged with. The crowd was getting quite noisy. What were they saying? It was hard to tell, with so many voices shouting at once. He wished his field of vision was not so restricted.'What do you see?' said Zanya.
'A gryphon mating with a manticore,' said Drake. 'Two dragons fighting over a piece of the sun. A bald dwarf circumcising a naked giant with a very sharp hatchet. A cloud giving birth to a kitten. A man in the street selling tiny stars tied to strings, aye, and flying frogs with yellow wings.'
'What's all the noise about then?' said Zanya. 'Why, the flying frogs are chasing the stars on strings, and the stars don't take kindly to being eaten.' 'Seriously,' said Zanya.
'Seriously, I think there's some kind of market going on,' said Drake, 'with a lot of screaming from people at auction, barkers shouting, haggling over prices, bickering over weights and measures, and three dozen truncheon men trying to keep order. Certainly nothing for us to worry about.'
In truth, Drake thought that things outside were building steadily toward a riot. Doubtless, the cause of the uproar was the presence of a blue leper in Lorford. He went to sit beside Zanya. Hid his face in her hair. Nuzzled at her neck.
'Darling treasure snake,' said Zanya, as he put his arms around her. 'They're getting rather noisy outside. What is going on? Really?'
The uproar without was unpleasantly reminiscent of the riot which had ended Drake's rule of Runcorn. Stones began to thump into the side of the western gatehouse.'What is it?' said Zanya, now seriously alarmed.'Nothing, my darling,' said Drake. 'Nothing.''It's us they want, isn't it?''Hush,' he said, holding her close. 'Hush . . .'
He did his best to soothe her to sleep. Finally, she closed her eyes and slept, or appeared to. But she sat up with a start when the door was opened to admit a slender, cleanshaven man older than Drake. He wore a broad-brimmed feathered hat, and had eyes of a startling green. He looked not a day older than when Drake had first seen him on Stokos.'Arabin lol Arabin!' said the wizard Miphon.
'The same,' said Drake, with a bow, 'though I am known also as Drake Douay, as Dreldragon Drakedon Douay, as Lord Dreldragon and as Shen Shen Drax. And I have gone by other names still in my time. Indeed-'
'Enough history!' said Miphon. 'This . . . Zanya, is it not? I remember you well from Burntos.'
'As I remember you, sir,' said Zanya. 'How came you here?'
'Mystrel summoned me,' said the wizard Miphon. 'She sent a girl from her House of Health to ride forth to find me.'
'Have you come with a cure for this sickness?' said Drake.'Mystrel knows as much of cures as I do,' said Miphon.
'But she is but a woman, and you a wizard!' said Drake. 'A great wizard, if half of legend is true! Surely you with your wizardly wisdom have a cure for this pox!'
'The legends are less than one tenth true,' said Miphon. 'As I've said already-''Man,' said Drake, with a threat in his voice. 'A wizard knows more than a woman, surely. What's the cure?'
'The blood of a dragon,' said Miphon, slowly. 'That, mixed with the blood of a man is certain cure for all ills – though the cure has a cruel price. But we have no dragons in Estar. And your lady would not last the journey inland.'
So! There was a cure! The blood of a dragon mixed with the blood of a man.'Must the blood be fresh?' said Drake.
T believe,' said Miphon, 'both the dragon's blood and the human blood must be fresh.'
'And I believe we've precious little time for medical lectures,' said Zanya. 'The noise without grows by the moment.'
'It's market day,' said Miphon, hitting on the same lie that Drake had used. 'Think nothing of it.'
'It's a riot, isn't it?' said Zanya, sure of her facts even though the stone-throwing had stopped for the moment.'Not. . . not yet.'
'But it will be,' said Zanya, 'won't it? They're stirring themselves up to kill us!' When Miphon made no reply, she said: 'Who is it? Who's out there?'
'Some few dozens who cry for leper-blood,' said Miphon reluctantly. 'Also, from Sully Yot's temple, about fifty lunatics who say we hold the son of the demon Hagon within.'
'While others join in for the fun of it,' said Zanya. 'Well – do you give us to the mob? Or do you let us escape from here?'
'She speaks sense,' said Drake. 'Man, you've two choices. Kill us, then throw the crowd their corpses. Or break us out of here, lest they storm this gatehouse. If they do that, they'll not stop there. They'll burn your town by nightfall.'
'It's easy to say,' said Miphon. 'But we lack the men to break you out past a mob like that.'
'What do you want?' said Drake. 'An army? Twenty soldiers, man. That's all it takes. Twenty good men on twenty good horses, aye, swords and spears. Man, that orderless rabble would run like rats.'
'We have not twenty men within,' said Miphon. 'Only half a dozen.''Then those men who arrested me-'
T sent them chasing after Lord Blackwood and Lord Hearst.'
'Man, that was foolish!' said Drake, shaking his head. 'Mobs grow by moments. Smash them to start with, aye, that's the story.'
At that moment, the gaoler intruded on their conversation. He was hot, panting, excited.'Masters, Lord Blackwood's outside! He's in trouble!'
Miphon exited the cell, with Drake and Zanya close behind. Crowding to arrowslits, they saw Lord Hearst outside, along with a dark-haired, heavy-jowled man whom Drake recognized as Blackwood. Both were on horseback, as were the four soldiers helping force a way through the crowd. Suddenly, one of the soldiers was hauled from his horse. Blackwood raised something in his fist. He shouted. The mob fell back in a confusion close to panic.'What's happened?' said Zanya.
'He's threatened them with the death-stone,' said Miphon.'The door!' shouted Drake. 'To the door!'
All raced to the door of the western gatehouse, which they hauled open. Blackwood, Hearst and the surviving soldiers spurred their horses for the door. The mob surged after them – but the sight of cold steel made the mob hesitate just long enough for the door to be closed.Hearst swung down from his horse.'How many men here?' he said.
'Nine all told,' said the gaoler, 'counting me, and counting Master Yot's prisoner.'
'Yot!' said Hearst. 'I'll kill him when I get hold of him.' Then, to Blackwood: T told you he should have swung with those lawyers.'
'I gave him my support for I saw good things in his doctrine,' said Blackwood. 'The flesh,
after all, must be disciplined to live within its limits.'
'Yes yes yes!' said Hearst. 'You meant well. You always mean well. Me, I'm content to govern! Is the death-stone safe?'
'Here,' said Blackwood, thumping a stone egg onto a convenient table.'Good,' said Hearst.'Man,' said Drake, 'is that it?''The weapon of recent legend,' confirmed Hearst.
'Well then,' said Drake, 'let's use it, for the mob without is close to murder.'
'We cannot do any such thing,' said Hearst. 'We'd turn the whole town to stone.''It's us or them, man!' cried Drake.
He snatched up the death-stone. It was cool. It was heavier than he had expected. There was a sizzle of steel as soldiers drew weapons against him. Drake menaced them with the death-stone. They fell back. Now what? He waved the death-stone about in the air.'Work, you ganch!' screamed Drake. 'Kill people!'Hearst laughed, harshly.
'Read the Words on the side of the stone,' said Hearst. 'Read them, now! Or drop the stone – or it will kill you.'
Drake saw strange writing on the side of the death-stone. The stone egg kicked in his hand like a living heart. He put it back on the table.
'I would have saved us if I could,' he said sadly, 'but I know not the letter Ac0was from any other.'
'You'd have saved none,' said Hearst, 'but would have killed many. When the death-stone works its magic, all die unless huddled close, within an arm-span of the stone itself. Let's use the bottle.''What bottle?'said Drake.
'That one,' said Hearst, pointing to a red bottle which was tied to Blackwood's belt. Blackwood pulled a ring off his finger and handed it to
Hearst. The soldiers, who had done this before, grabbed hold of Hearst. Who slipped the ring onto his finger then turned it. As Drake goggled, Hearst and the soldiers holding him were turned to smoke. And sucked into the bottle.
Drake had learnt bits and pieces about the lore of such magic bottles. He had heard tales from Andranovory in Selzirk. While ruling the Gates of Chenameg, he had heard more from other people. But stories were one thing – it was quite another to see such magic in action.Moments later, Hearst materialized again.'Hold me,' said Hearst. 'Yes, you, woman. And you.''No!' said Zanya.
