The Werewolf and the Wormlord

by Hugh Cook

  While listening to Cod and Morgenstem enlarge upon their theme, Alfric had ample time to watch Ursula Major, and to think, and to wonder. Was she still ruling as regent? Or had she declared herself to be the new king? Really, the question was immaterial. Obviously, she was now the ruling power in Wen Endex: and that was what really mattered. He observed the way she teased a strand of her hair through her fingers. She was bored with this, he could tell. Boredom betrays itself swiftly. So was she unhappy sitting on the throne? Perhaps. But perhaps it was her nature to be bored with life; and, in any case, since when did anyone surrender a throne out of mere ennui?

  As Alfric watched Ursula Major, admiring the elegance of the hair which flowed in ripples about her neck, he knew that he wanted her; but greater than lust was the desire to kill. But if anyone was going to do any killing in Saxo Pall, it was more likely to be Ursula than Alfric.

  At last, Ursula Major was finished with the orks.

  ‘We will deliberate,’ she said, thus sidelining the petition which the orks had just made, which was for them to be allowed to address a general assembly of the Yudonic Knights of Galsh Ebrek.

  Now Ursula was ready to deal with Alfric.

  ‘Alfric,’ she said.

  ‘Greetings, aunt,’ said Alfric.

  He chose to address her thus for two reasons. First, because he knew she hated to be thus addressed. Second, because he wanted to stress the family connection. Surely Ursula Major could not order the death of a family member without shaming herself beyond redemption.

  Or could she?

  In Obooloo, Aldarch the Third had celebrated his victory in a seven-year civil war by disembowelling his forty-seven brothers and feeding his twenty-nine sisters to the Favoured Rats; but nobody thought any the worse of him for that.

  ‘We hear,’ said Ursula Major coldly, ‘that you were the man who got my father killed.’

  Alfric had been ready for many accusations. He thought Ursula Major might have tried to accuse him, for example, of being a werewolf. But never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that she would blame him for Tromso Stavenger’s death; and he was so taken aback that he could hardly believe this charge was seriously intended.

  ‘We see,’ said Ursula, ‘that you make no effort to deny the charge.’

  Alfric recovered the use of his voice and said:

  ‘The man met his end as a hero should. Fighting against Herself.’

  ‘You got him killed,’ said Ursula.

  Her debating style was clumsy; but, for that very reason, it was going to be difficult to deal with. Alfric had honed his speaking abilities in moots conducted by the Bank; and, in such debates, a speaker dropped a line of argument once it had been decisively refuted. Alfric, believing that he had so refuted his aunt’s accusation, was more than irritated to find her staunchly repeating it.

  ‘We killed the Hag,’ said Alfric.

  ‘So?’ said Ursula. ‘A dozen men with crossbows could have done as much with less fuss and no deaths whatsoever.’

  ‘I believe She would not have fallen easily to any hunters,’ said Alfric. ‘Anyway, the matter is closed. She is dead, and there’s an end to it.’

  ‘The issue is not closed,’ said Ursula. ‘Her death is greatly regretted, for She was an asset to the state.’ ‘That,’ said Alfric, is the most nonsense I’ve heard in one breath since the day I was bom.’

  ‘What you fail to understand,’ said Ursula, ‘is that our monsters are assets. Amongst other things, they discourage invasion. You have done much to wreck the reputation of Wen Endex. Lusting for personal gain, you slaughtered the dragon Qa. Poor Kralch you humiliated. You dared the lair of the very vampires themselves and returned unscathed, much to the diminishment of the stature of those valued allies of ours. Finally, you have participated in the murder of Herself. ’

  ‘She was a killer,’ said Alfric.

  ‘So She was,’ said Ursula. ‘That was Her purpose. To stalk the night and kill. To be a thing of terror. A thing to make hideous all beyond our walls. You understand?’ ‘No,’ said Alfric.

  ‘Of course you don’t understand,’ said Ursula scornfully. ‘But it is true. She did us a great service. She bound all of Wen Endex in a great alliance. Thanks to Her, the commoners ever found the swords of the Yudonic Knights a welcome asset rather than an irksome imposition. By killing as She did, She made our people see the ruling hierarchy as a chivalrous and self-sacrifidng order, as an asset rather than a burdensome ruling class.’ ‘You seem to be accusing me,’ said Alfric, ‘of stirring up revolution.’

  ‘Your actions, witted or witless, present us with that possibility,’ said Ursula.

  ‘I do not believe for one moment that there will be a revolution.’

  ‘Of course there will be no revolution,’ said Ursula. ‘For we will do what we must to prevent it. She helped secure our ruling order, and could help us yet; therefore, we will reinvent Her. As for the dragon, why, no doubt we can get another one, somewhere. In due course, we can also assist the swamp giant and the vampires to recover their reputations.’

  ‘You’re mad,’ said Alfric, in disbelief.

  ‘No,’ said Ursula. ‘I am not mad. I am simply better educated than yourself. You think yourself a coldblooded banker, whereas in fact you see the world through a haze of romance. Your vision of power is blurred by the glamorous impracticalities of legend and myth. You still think that power exists as a service to the people. In this you are a child.’ ‘For what then does power exist?’ said Alfric.

  ‘To serve itself,’ answered Ursula Major.

  Alfric looked around at the silent assembly.

  ‘You dare say that?’ said he. ‘Here? In front of witnesses?’

  ‘All those here today are gathered together in an alliance of power,’ said Ursula Major. ‘In other times it may be politic to speak with greater circumspection. But today, this once, we can indulge ourselves in the truth.’

  So she spoke. Then studied Alfric with a cold calculation which made him suddenly afraid, terribly afraid. She had planned his doom; he was sure of it. Her speech was just a preface to his death, or - or to something worse.

  He had thought to come here to throw her off her throne, to dismiss her with a word. He must have been mad. Completely deluded. He should have fled from Wen Endex immediately after his father’s funeral. He would have been safer in Obooloo than here.

  Suddenly, Ursula Major smiled.

  Was Alfric reprieved?

  No!

  For Ursula said:

  ‘You are a criminal, for you have wilfully destroyed state assets to further your own ambition, and you have led an old and senile man to a hideous death. This amounts to treason. Therefore we pronounce your doom. You are guilty of treason. Therefore, you must die.’

  That proved what Alfric had already guessed: he had hopelessly misjudged the situation.

  Alfric had guessed that Ursula Major was prepared to destroy him, but not that she was ready to do so in public view. He had expected backstreet murder, knives in the dark, arson, poison, arrows fired from the shadows. He had feared death at the hands of Ciranoush Zaxilian Nom. But not this! Not a formal condemnation from the throne.

  ‘But,’ continued Ursula Major, ‘while you must die, we do give you the chance to die as a Yudonic Knight. If you wish, you can seek to prove your innocence by trial by combat. If you do not wish to be dragged away by the executioner, then you can seek to prove your innocence in challenge against this hall.’

  ‘Against the hall?’ said Alfric in astonishment.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ursula. ‘Do you need an explanation of what that means?’

  Alfric made no answer, for the question was purely rhetorical. Of course he knew what it meant.

  In trial by combat, one fights and kills to prove one’s innocence. The state puts forward one or more champions, and the accused criminal must murder all those champions to prove himself not guilty. On this occasion, Ursula Major had volunteered every single person in the hal
l to champion the state.

  Which meant that Alfric would have to kill off the entire hall, man by man, to prove his innocence.

  An impossible task.

  But he did have one advantage.

  It was his privilege to choose who he would fight first.

  Alfric looked around, seeking a suitably weak victim. But he saw none. He suspected this had been planned long in advance. None of the old, the weak and the crippled was in this throneroom, though such people existed in the ranks of the Yudonic Knights.

  However, there was Guignol Grangalet.

  Alfric caught Grangalet’s eye, and the Chief of Protocol looked away nervously. He knew Alfric could kill him easily. But, what was the point of that? Who cared whether a civil servant like Grangalet lived or died? Ursula Major could get another Chief of Protocol easily.

  Nothing would be served by murdering Grangalet.

  So...

  Alfric was doomed.

  He might kill the first man to champion the cause of the state; and he might kill the second, the third, maybe even the fourth - but sooner or later, one of his foes would kill him.

  Or was he doomed?

  Surely... surely Ursula Major had made an error.

  Alfric cleared his throat.

  ‘If I heard you rightly,’ said Alfric, ‘you volunteered everyone in this hall to fight for the state.’

  ‘So I did,’ said Ursula Major. ‘Such is my privilege.’

  ‘But surely you exclude yourself from that number,’ said Alfric.

  ‘I do not,’ said Ursula Major in a level voice. ‘I stand ready to meet you in combat if you satisfy the necessary protocol.’

  ‘And the necessary protocol is?’ said Alfric.

  ‘Very simply, that you prove yourself to be a woman,’ said Ursula Major. ‘For it is the law of the Yudonic Knights that a female cannot meet anyone in trial by combat excepting another female. If you can prove yourself to be a woman, Alfric, I’ll happily fight you.’

  This roused a laugh from the Yudonic Knights.

  Alfric let that laugh die away, then said: ‘So, if I’m not a woman, I have to fight the men. The males.’

  ‘Such is your destiny,’ said Ursula.

  ‘And I can choose ... I can choose any male in this hall to be the state’s first champion.’

  ‘That is your privilege,’ said Ursula.

  ‘Since that is the case,’ said Alfric, ‘it would appear that you have put the lives of King Dimple-Dumpling’s ambassadors in peril.’

  A babble of protest uprose from the Yudonic Knights. Ursula Major called for silence. She was not granted it.

  ‘Silence!’ she said. Then, shouting, this time: ‘Silence! Shut up, or else!’

  Slowly, the noise from the Knights muttered down to almost nothing.

  But Alfric knew he had unsettled them.

  Ursula Major had designated ‘the hall’ to meet Alfric in challenge. Which meant that Alfric was entitled to choose any person in the hall to fight him.

  If he chose one of the orks, then the ork would doubtless die, for any Yudonic Knight could cut such a blubbery creature to pieces with no trouble at all, regardless of what weapons the soft-natured thing might have in its hands.

  Alfric could easily kill both of King Dimple-Dumpling’s ambassadors.

  Which would mean war between the Qinjoks and Wen Endex.

  Ursula Major now had no choice.

  She would have to cancel the trial by combat.

  Or Alfric would kill the orks and plunge Wen Endex into a ruinous war.

  Ursula stared at Alfric in fury, then said:

  ‘You want to kill the orks? Very well! Kill them!’

  Again there was an uproar from the Yudonic Knights. It did not cease until Guignol Grangalet joined Ursula Major in shouting the Knights down to silence.

  ‘As I said,’ said Ursula Major, ‘kill the orks if that’s what you wish.’

  Alfric glanced at the orks. The grey-skinned creatures had shrunk away from him. They were huddled together, holding hands. And both were crying. He was embarrassed.

  Well?

  Should he murder them?

  Alfric made a cold-blooded calculation, and decided there was no profit in killing orks. It would win him no prestige with the Yudonic Knights. It would not serve to prove his courage; which, in any case, had been adequately proved already. He had threatened to plunge Wen Endex into war, and Ursula Major—

  But wait!

  Was she bluffing?

  Was she waiting to see whether he really would go ahead and challenge one of the orks?

  Alfric looked again at Ursula Major, saw the depth of her frustrated rage, and decided that, no, she was not bluffing. She wanted him dead. Even if a war with the ogres was the price of his death.

  Alfric cleared his throat.

  ‘You invite me,’ said Alfric, ‘to murder two ambassadors. I do not think such an invitation civilized, nor do I intend to accept that invitation. Nevertheless, let all here bear witness to the fact that you extended such an invitation to me.’

  ‘You were the one who suggested it!’ shouted Ursula Major, unable to contain herself.

  ‘I felt it my duty to point out the grievous error you had made,’ said Alfric coldly. ‘I would never take advantage of such an error, for I love my country. But others would not be scrupulous. Whether I live or die today, I do not want you to repeat your error. I do not want Wen Endex driven to war on account of your foolishness.’

  This excited the Yudonic Knights again, and Guignol Grangalet had difficulty in silencing them. Alfric knew he had scored a decisive blow in this battle of wits. The odds were against him, but maybe, just maybe, he could undermine Ursula Major’s authority to the point where she got laughed off the throne.

  As Alfric was so thinking, he was engulfed in the arms of an ork. It was Morgenstem.

  ‘Thank you, Alfric,’ said Morgenstem, giving him a big slubbering kiss. ‘Oh thank you, thank you, thank you so much for sparing us.’

  The Yudonic Knights broke into open laughter, and Alfric knew all the ground he had made up was lost. He was enraged. He wanted to break Morgenstem in half, to smash the soft and slobbery creature. But he knew it was too late. The ork had made him look ridiculous, and he could not recover his dignity by killing the thing, an action which would only lead to an embarrassing scene with Cod.

  ‘So,’ said Ursula, as Morgenstem released Alfric, ‘we see this thing for what it is. A lover of orks.’

  More laughter from the Knights.

  ‘We wonder what other strange passions it leamt in the Qinjoks,’ said Ursula. ‘Many times it went there, did it not? Many dealings it had with the ogres. Secret, those dealings, but we won’t ask it what happened in those meetings.’

  What was this? A subtle accusation of treachery?

  ‘I went to the Qinjoks at the behest of the Bank,’ said Alfric. ‘All men know that, and women too. I brought back a treasure of jade, tribute to be handed over to the ambassador from the Izdimir Empire. ’

  ‘Yet the treasure every year became leaves and sticks,’ said Ursula. ‘Strange, is it not? What really happened, Alfric? And does what happened help to explain your fine rich house on Vamvelten Street? Never mind, we—’ ‘I mind!’ said Alfric. ‘How much more nonsense can we listen to? Do you really think I took the ogres’ treasure? Are you really accusing me of theft?’

  ‘You stand guilty of treason,’ said Ursula Major. ‘Therefore there is no point in us trifling with lesser crimes. Let it be noted, however, that you appear to love the denizens of the Qinjoks more than your own kind. These last three nights, you’ve sheltered with orks when no house of humans would have you. ’

  ‘Orks took me in,’ said Alfric. ‘True. Orks sheltered me. I could quibble, oh yes, I could quibble with a minor point, and say the house in question was not a place of orks but, rather, an inn owned by one Anna Blaume. But I won’t trifle with such points. Rather, I’ll ask the big question. Why have orks proved mo
re constant in friendship than humans? I believe it is because the humans have erred in their judgement.’

  Alfric took a deep breath.

  If he was going to talk himself out of this one, he must make himself acceptable to the Knights. He could not repudiate the orks, because the evidence of his affiliation with those blubber-oil beasts was too strong. But he could stress that he was in truth a Yudonic Knight, a hero equal to any out of saga.

  ‘Humans have erred,’ said Alfric, ‘and any who think on what I am and who I am will realize the depth of that error. I am a patriot. I am Alfric Danbrog. A hero! The killer of Herself! Whatever you think of - of the political advantages of having a monster on the loose, I’m entitled to the gratitude of the nation. ’

  Alfric paused.

  Actually, his heart was not really in this. While he had always had a very high opinion of himself, he had never been one for open boasting. And, what was more, he was starting to despair of winning victory through words.

  ‘The gratitude of the nation,’ said Ursula Major, sneering as she said it.

  ‘Yes!’ said Alfric. ‘And - and I tell you this. You want me dead? Very well. You can have me dead. But I won’t die alone. I gladly take the opportunity to prove my innocence in trial by combat. Naturally, I’ll die. Sooner or later. But this I promise: I’ll kill the first man who comes against me.’

  So saying, Alfric looked as fiercely as he could upon the Yudonic Knights. They looked back with undisguised hostility. Indeed, with hate.

  But why?

  Why did they hate him?

  His association with orks could make him look ridiculous, but it could scarcely make him hateful. And surely nobody could believe the accusations of crime which had been made against him. Something else had caused the breach between Alfric and the Knights. Did they really believe that he had deliberately shunned the funeral of his father and grandfather? And even if they did believe that, was that enough to condemn him to death? And could they not see that he would make a good king, maybe even a great king?

  Many of these Knights were the very same men who had marched with Tromso Stavenger to do battle against Herself, yet Alfric saw not a hint of sympathy on any of their faces. He started to suspect that they were ashamed of their cowardice (as well they should be!) and that their hostility was consequent upon their shame.