Sebastian Darke: Prince of Fools

by Philip Caveney

  Cornelius had produced a clay pipe and he sat there, puffing out great clouds of fragrant smoke as he regaled them with stories of his adventures in the army – how he had fought his way across the known world and back again. If his stories were to be believed – and Sebastian was surprised to find that he was already beginning to trust the manling implicitly – then he had led an eventful life indeed.

  'There's a whole world out there,' he told his two listeners, 'more than you would have dreamed possible. Travel in one direction for a long, long distance and eventually you come to a great stretch of water called "the ocean", which is further across than you can see even on a clear day. Cross that ocean on a ship and after many moons of travelling you will come to another land on the far side of the water, where the people look different and speak a language you cannot understand. And if you keep going in a straight line, do you know what happens?'

  Cornelius and Max both shook their heads.

  'Why, you arrive back where you started, of course! Because I have come to understand that the world is shaped like a great ball. We move across its surface like flies on a giant fruit.'

  'How come we don't fall off when we go too far?' asked Max.

  'The same reason flies don't fall off,' said Cornelius. 'Sticky feet.'

  Sebastian and Max looked at each other.

  'Sticky feet?' echoed Max. 'That can't be right. What about when you are in one of those big boats you spoke of. Or are you saying that the bottoms of the boats stick to the surface of the water?'

  Cornelius shrugged. 'Well, it's a complicated subject, I'll grant you. But nobody yet has offered me a better explanation.'

  'I've heard one,' said Sebastian. 'There's an old fellow who hangs around the market in Jerabim – fancies himself as a bit of a seer—'

  'Not old Bartimus?' interrupted Max.

  Sebastian gave him an indignant look. 'Well, yes actually, but—'

  'He's a raving lunatic!'

  'I wasn't aware that you knew Bartimus.'

  'Everyone knows him! He goes around talking to himself.'

  'That may well be, but he swears that he was told by one of the most learned men in the land that the world is flat and slightly curved, like the surface of a big shield. In fact, it is a big shield, held by a giant warrior called Mungus.'

  'A giant warrior?' echoed Max.

  'Yes. He stands in space with his feet on the back of a huge carpet. This stops him from falling through space—'

  'Oh, naturally,' said Max. 'I can see that would work.'

  'The waters of the world are pools of rain that have fallen on the shield and as he moves, they slosh about, causing waves and floods and so forth. According to Bartimus, if you were to travel to the very edges of the shield, you would be able to look across a great distance and see Mungus staring down at you. Bartimus reckons that one day Mungus will get tired of holding the shield and will simply fling it into space as hard as he can. When that happens, everyone in the world will perish.'

  There was a long silence while Max and Cornelius considered this information.

  'That's the most ridiculous story I've ever heard,' said Cornelius. 'How does this Bartimus character explain how I've managed to sail clear around the world and come right back to where I started?'

  Sebastian shrugged. 'Bartimus says that the very edge of the giant shield has an enchantment upon it that stops you from falling off. So he would probably suggest that you must simply have just gone around the edge of the shield.'

  'Nonsense! The man's an idiot,' said Cornelius. 'We sailed straight ahead the whole time, using the stars to guide us. And the captain of our ship was one of the best men in the Golmiran navy. I'm pretty sure he'd have noticed if we'd started deviating from our course.'

  'Quite right,' said Max dismissively 'Old Bartimus hasn't got a clue. Now I have heard a theory that's much more interesting than either of yours. The way I heard it, the world is actually a big steel ring through the nose of a gigantic buffalope called Colin. His warm breath gives us the air we breathe, and when he sneezes, we get rain. And—'

  'I take it back,' Cornelius told Sebastian. 'Yours is only the second most ridiculous story I've ever heard!'

  'I didn't say I believed it,' protested Max. 'But a lot of buffalopes do, you know – there's a huge following for Colin. They say that when the world ends we'll all go to a wonderful pasture in the sky to be with him.'

  'I don't believe any of that nonsense,' said Cornelius. 'I go by what I have seen with my own eyes, what I have heard with my own ears, what I have touched with my own hands. And you mark my words, this world of ours is round. I'd stake my very life on it.' He yawned, stretched, gave a long sigh. 'By Shadlog's beard, I'm tired,' he announced. 'I think, gentlemen, that I'm ready for sleep. But first I must answer a call of nature.' He got up and strode off into the bushes, where he quickly disappeared from sight.

  Max waited a few moments and then spoke in a whisper. 'I didn't hear anything calling.'

  'It's just an expression,' said Sebastian.

  'Hmm?'

  'He's gone for a wee!'

  'Oh. Well, why didn't he say so? Listen, are you sure we should be encouraging him to travel with us?'

  'Yes, why not? He'll be useful – and he's just provided us with the best meal we've had since we left Jerabim!'

  'There are more important things than a full stomach, you know.'

  'Oh, I'm surprised to hear you say that. You carnivore, you!'

  'I'd really rather you didn't go mentioning that to people.' Max frowned. 'Some of my more zealous brothers and sisters might not understand. They maintain that the eating of flesh is a sin.' He thought for a moment. 'But seriously, young master, this Cornelius – I don't know. There's just something about him I don't trust.'

  'You don't trust anybody,' said Sebastian, as he untied his bedroll.

  'We don't know anything about him. He wanders in out of the night with a javralat over his shoulder,' offers to share it with us, and we're supposed to believe that makes him a nice chap.'

  'He is a nice chap. You know we elvish people pride ourselves on being able to judge a man's character at a glance.'

  'Oh yes, like that Berundian who charged us a small fortune for lamp oil and lied to us about finding water. According to you, he was a nice fellow too. You can't always—'

  'Shush. He's coming back!'

  Cornelius emerged from the bushes, strolled over to the fire and laid himself down on the other side of it. He slid his sword from its scabbard and set it down on the ground beside him.

  'Well, my friends, I'll bid you good night,' he said. 'And I'm sorry you don't trust me, Max, but there's not really very much I can do about that, is there?'

  Max winced. 'Trust you? Who said I didn't?'

  'Voices carry a long way at night, my friend.'

  There was a particularly awkward silence.

  T think there's a spare blanket in the caravan,' ventured Sebastian. 'It gets quite chilly at night.'

  'No need,' Cornelius assured him. 'After all my years in the army, I could fall asleep naked on a block of ice. In fact, come to think of it, I have, several times!' And with that, Cornelius turned onto his side and, after a few moments, began to snore gently. Sebastian noticed that he slept with one hand on the handle of his sword; and when he looked closer he saw that the manling was quite literally sleeping with one eye open.

  'Amazing,' he murmured. He glanced at Max and saw that he was lying there with a peeved expression on his face.

  'What's wrong now?' he asked.

  'You've never offered me the spare blanket!' said Max huffily and he turned his back on Sebastian. The movement caused a big blast of wind to emerge from his rear end.

  Sebastian shook his head and the bells on his hat jingled. He took it off and set it to one side, laying it down carefully as though it was some precious relic. He wriggled into his bedroll and lay for a moment, gazing up at the millions of stars glittering in the night sky. Somewhere, far o
ff, a luper howled, a remote and lonely sound.

  Sebastian sighed contentedly, relishing the feeling of having a full stomach for the first time in ages. Then he closed his eyes and was fast asleep in moments.

  CHAPTER 6

  SKIRMISH

  Sebastian opened his eyes and lay blinking up at the morning sky. A moment earlier he had been dreaming that he was performing his act for the court of King Septimus. His audience had sat there dressed in their finery, staring at him expressionlessly as his attempts to elicit a response became ever more frantic. All in all, it was a relief to be awake.

  He sat up, stretched, yawned and then turned to look across the still-smouldering embers of the fire, where Cornelius had slept. But he wasn't there.

  'Not a sign of him,' said Max's voice in his ear. 'He was gone when I woke up, ages ago. He's probably run off with all our valuables.'

  'What valuables?' muttered Sebastian, scratching at his side. He turned his head to see that Max was standing by the edge of the bushes, questing hopefully among them for something edible. 'Perhaps he changed his mind about travelling with us.' He gave Max an accusatory look. 'Probably something to do with the wind last night,' he added.

  'I don't remember it being windy,' said Max.

  'You weren't sleeping where I was.' Sebastian climbed out of his bedroll, put on his hat and stood up. He scanned the horizon in a full circle but could see no sign of the diminutive warrior. 'That's a pity,' he said. 'I was looking forward to a hearty breakfast.'

  'And you shall have one!' said Cornelius, popping up out of the bushes with a suddenness that made Max choke on a mouthful of grass. 'I've had the good fortune to find a nest full of gallock eggs.' He strode forward, showing Sebastian his upturned helmet, which was full to the brim with round blue spheres. T trust you have a pan we may fry these beauties in?'

  'Er . . . yes, of course.' Sebastian hurried to the back of the caravan, hoping that he hadn't sounded like he was already taking Cornelius for granted. 'What a pleasant surprise,' he said. 'You must have been searching all morning.' He grabbed some kindling and a battered old pan.

  'It's just a case of knowing where to look,' said Cornelius, sitting beside the fire.

  'What kind of bird is a gallock?' asked Max suspiciously.

  'No kind of bird at all,' replied Cornelius. 'Since it's a serpent.'

  'Serpent's eggs?' cried Max, pulling a face. 'Oh, that really is going too far!'

  'I can assure you, they are delicious,' said Cornelius, taking the kindling from Sebastian and adding it to the fire. 'But of course, if you'd prefer mulch, I won't be offended.'

  Max looked thoughtful. 'I suppose one should try unfamiliar foods once in a while,' he said. 'Just for the experience.'

  In the end Max ate four of the eggs and would have had more if there'd been any left. 'They're really rather nice,' he exclaimed, licking the last traces from around his mouth. 'Considering where they came from.'

  'Javralat meat, serpent's eggs – let's just hope the unfamiliar diet doesn't have its usual effect on you,' said Sebastian, as he harnessed Max to the caravan. 'Don't forget I'll be sitting right behind you.'

  'I can't imagine what you mean,' said Max primly.

  Then it was time to pack up camp and resume their journey.

  They set off at a good pace. Cornelius opted to walk alongside the wagon rather than listen to Max's incessant moaning about the extra weight he had to pull. Cornelius thought they were still a good day and a half away from their destination. Somebody had told him that the towers of King Septimus's grand palace were visible from a good distance off, but as yet the horizon was an unbroken horizontal line of pale brown against the clear blue of the sky.

  They trudged on for hour after hour and eventually the flat ground gave way to gently rolling hills of grassland that seemed to sway rhythmically in the breeze. Around midday they crested a ridge and noticed something below them in the distance – a thick column of grey smoke rising into the sky – and as they moved steadily nearer, they could just discern what looked like a line of wagons. There was some kind of commotion going on around them that was raising a thick cloud of dust. Cornelius pulled an ancient-looking telescope from his belt and lifted it to his eye. He studied the scene for a moment, then drew in a short, sharp breath.

  'Shadlog's teeth!' he exclaimed. He thrust the telescope back, pulled down the visor of his helmet and drew his sword.

  'Come on, Sebastian,' he said. 'Somebody's in trouble!'

  'But . . . the caravan . . .'

  'It will follow on by itself quite happily. Grab your sword and follow me!'

  And he set off at a run, moving at incredible speed for one so small. Sebastian stared after him for a moment, then unsheathed his own sword. He jumped down from the caravan.

  T hope you don't think you're leaving me on my own,' protested Max.

  'You'll be fine. I can't let Cornelius go into danger unaided, can I?'

  'Why not? He's trained at that kind of thing. You on the other hand . . .'

  But Sebastian didn't hear the rest of Max's sentence as he took off after Cornelius, his long thin legs covering the ground at a sprinter's pace. Within a few moments he had caught up with the manling and could have easily overtaken him – but he slowed a little to stay alongside. Now he could clearly see the line of wagons he was running towards; and that they were being attacked by a troop of ragged men riding equines.

  'Brigands!' roared Cornelius. 'Attacking what looks like a respectable supply column. They'll take no prisoners!'

  Sebastian put his head down and concentrated on running. They had quite a distance to cover and part of him didn't really want to get there, because that would mean fighting. He remembered what Max had said about how being able to use a sword was quite a different matter to lopping some?one's head off. But it was too late to back down. The next time he looked up, he seemed to be uncomfortably close to the action. Now he could see everything.

  The soldiers who had been accompanying the supply column – handsomely equipped men wearing red plumed helmets and bronzed breastplates – had gathered themselves into a protective circle around one rather opulent carriage and were selling their lives dearly to defend it. The two fine equines that had pulled the carriage lay dead, pin-cushioned with arrows, and many of the guards were suffering a similar fate, the ground already littered with their dead. As Sebastian watched, more of them fell victim to the rain of arrows that the Brigands kept firing into them as they rode round and round their victims, yelling like madmen.

  'That's not very fair!' yelled Sebastian.

  'Welcome to the real world,' Cornelius shouted back at him. 'Don't worry, we'll soon even up the score.'

  As the two newcomers approached the action, one of the Brigands, a huge bearded man sitting astride a grey equine, noticed their approach and broke away from his companions to attack Cornelius. He came thundering towards the little warrior at high speed, a huge battle-axe raised to slice him in two. Sebastian felt like shutting his eyes but somehow couldn't. Just as he was thinking that it had been nice knowing Cornelius, the manling performed an extraordinary manoeuvre, rolling forward and slipping beneath the flying hooves of the equine. Then he launched himself upwards, slashing with the blade of his sword into the creature's exposed belly. The equine lost its footing and went tumbling headlong into the dirt, flinging its rider head over heels.

  Cornelius didn't hesitate but plunged onwards with a blood-curdling cry as more riders broke away from the fight to approach him. Sebastian couldn't watch any more because