by Hugh Cook
So Drake was taken out and birched in public, getting the standard twenty lashes. And it's no good pretending it didn't hurt, because it did. Worse than the pain was the publicity - for, as Drake was well aware, Sully Yot was amongst those watching.
Then Drake was planted in the dung heap, naked, up to his neck in ordure. And it's no good pretending that was comfortable - it was the worst night he'd had in his life. But for a fresh breeze coming in off the sea, he would have perished that night by reason of the fumes from the dung.
Towards dawn, Drake experienced something very close to despair. He felt shattered. He doubted that he could swim even as far as a sick snail could crawl while a hungry man was gulping down a very small piece of bread and jam, let alone three leagues. Three leagues! That was six thousand paces!
Still, he had to try.
The sun was rising when Drake was dug out of the dung heap. First off, he was thrown into the harbour. The shock of the water revived him somewhat; he found he could swim, and swim quite well. Once he was clean - more or less - he was allowed to climb out of the harbour.
A considerable crowd had gathered to see the young man who had set himself up as a contender for the throne of Stokos. As someone threw a blanket over his shoulders, Drake gazed around at the mob. Why, he must be famous!
'Good morning, young Drake,' said a familiar voice.
It was Gouda Muck.
'Hi,' said Drake. 'Come to watch the fun, have you? Why couldn't you stay back at the forge torturing rats with a red-hot poker?'
'Don't be like that,' said Muck. 'I've brought you a present.'
And so he had - a pair of new trousers and a thick jersey of greasy wool. Drake was startled.
'Why,'said Drake.'Why, this - I—'
'Thank me by surviving,' saidMuck, clapping a hard and horny hand onto his shoulder. 'You're a good lad, really. I know that.'
Such presents and such praise were the very last thing Drake had expected to get on that particular morning. His heart was gladdened; he felt almost human again.
'Morning, young sprogling,' said a rough but cheery voice.
It was Drake's uncle, Oleg Douay. And what had he brought with him? Why, breakfast!
Bacon, yes, and devilled kidneys, and bread greasy with fat. Drake scrambled into his new clothes then ate with a will, feeding warmth, strength and energy into his belly. Three leagues? No problem! He could do it lying on his back.
'That breakfast will see you drowned with cramp,' said an anonymous pessimist.
'Not me,' said Drake, carelessly, and downed another kidney. 'What's that other package? Something else for me?'
'Some new boots,' said Oleg Douay. 'But I won't hand them over yet. I'll be waiting when you make it back to shore. I expect you to dine with me this evening.'
'Withpleasure,' said Drake.
'Five shangles says you can't swim the three leagues wearing the boots,' said a voice.
It was Sully Yot, half-hidden amongst the crowd.
'Done!' said Drake. Then, to his uncle: 'Give me the boots.' Reluctantly, his uncle handed them over.
'This isn't wise,' said Oleg. 'Those boots will drown you.'
'Not me,' said Drake, determined to win five shangles off Sully Yot.
Five shangles! Why, that was a week's wages. With five shangles, he could be drunk for two and a half days without a moment's sobriety.
Then Drake remembered that his days of boozing, gambling and wenching were over. He was a serious sword-smith now, soon to settle down to the job of making his first blade. Well. . . once he'd made that weapon, surely a little celebration would be in order.
Yes. Surely.
'I'll be here myself when you get to shore,' said Yot, 'to make sure you're still wearing the boots. So no cheating!'
'I'll be wearing the boots all right,' said Drake. 'I'll keep them on if only for the pleasure of kicking you.'
Then Drake was shown to the canary-yellow dinghy in which he would be rowed out to sea. The boat, he was told, was the Walrus. Unbeknownst to Drake, her owner had named her thus because he had once sailed on a pirate ship captained by a water-thief of that name.
Drake was introduced to the crew.
There were three of them. Ish Ulpin (owner of the Walrus) and Bucks Cat were both human. The third, Whale Mike, was mostly ogre; he was twice man-height. But, unlike King Tor, he was of fairly slim build - his shoulders were no wider than a man's outstretched arms. He wore tarpaulin overalls and a great big leather apron with a huge pocket in the front.
The rowing boat - a big wide strongbuilt thing which would usually have had a crew of ten - settled noticeably as Whale Mike stepped into it. Drake dreaded to think what he weighed.
'Well, gentlemen,' said Drake. 'It looks like a good day for it. Shall we be setting to sea?'
He stepped into the boat. Ish Ulpin took the tiller; Whale Mike and Bucks Cat began to row. Men on ships in the harbour cheered or jeered according to their nature.
Then, as the Walrus passed by the bow of an illfavoured barque with furled black sails, a man leaned over the railing and cried:
'Hey, boys! That's the pup I told you about! The one who gave me the wrong directions!'
Looking up, Drake saw the man on the ship was Atsimo Andranovory.
'Belt him round the earhole for me!' cried Andranovory.
Whereupon Ish Ulpin did just that.
'Hit him again!' said Andranovory.
'No, that not fair,' said Whale Mike. Then, raising his voice so Andranovory could hear: 'You want hit boy, you know where to find him! You swim out after us if that what you want!'
Andranovory answered in curses.
Soon, he was out of earshot. The dinghy left the protection of the harbour and began to rock uncomfortably on the swells. Drake started feeling uneasy.
Or, to be precise, queasy.
All that bacon fat in his belly was getting distinctly uneasy about this adventure.
'You not happy stomach?' said Whale Mike. 'Here, you get this good, she put you right.'
And Whale Mike handed Drake a small stone bottle. What was in it, Drake didn't ask. He simply swigged. It was bitter. It burnt. At first, he felt worse than ever. Then his stomach settled, and seasickness threatened no more as the Walrus rowed out into the open sea.
3
Ish Ulpin: a lean, pale man with a thin, mirthless mouth. He is given to great anger; he loves to kill. Once was a gladiator in Chi 'ash-Ian; later, sailed with the Orfus pirates of the Greater Teeth. Now works for King Tor as executioner and torturer, but is not averse to a little private enterprise on the side. In anyone's language, this man is dangerous.
Bucks Cat: a tall man with a wrestler's build; black hair; ebony skin; a knife-scar grinning on his throat. Born on Island Talsh in Sponge Sea. After capture in slaving raid, worked for many years in a quarry in the Ashun Mountains. Led slave revolt which took three years to suppress; spent five years on Greater Teeth before settling on Stokos.
Whale Mike: an ogre built as tall as King Tor. Has a trace of human ancestry (ogres can breed with humans, as wdlves can with dogs) as evidenced by a face showing what is almost a standard human configuration. Small eyes of incontrovertible imbecility; cheeks bulging as if a full-moon resides within each; sallow yellow skin. He has no ears, only holes in the side of his head where ears should be. (His hearing, even so, is acute.) His past is unspeakable.
The day was bright; the sun glittered on the sea and glinted from the blue and green tiled rooves of Cam. The clouds were few, white and very high. Drake felt strangely tranquil as he watched the whitewashed buildings of Cam
receding into the distance. Three leagues was a long way to swim. But he had every confidence of success. In fact, he felt he had energy to spare. By way of showing off, he offered to row.
'You not row, man,' said Whale Mike. 'You sleep.'
'I don't need to sleep,' said Drake. T know what's best for me.'
'You like kitten,' said Whale Mike. 'Eyes not open yet
. You not know which way up.'
'It doesn't matter what he knows,' said Ish Ulpin, with a laugh which suggested no humour. 'It'll all be over soon enough in any case.'
'What?' said Drake. 'You think I'm going to drown or something?'
'Shut up,' said Bucks Cat.
'You make nice sleep,' said Whale Mike. 'That always good thing. Not much sleep in water. That not so?'
Drake hated to take advice from anything which looked so stupid, but, in the end, he made himself as comfortable as he could and closed his eyes. And slept, right enough. Dreaming of munched frogs and dripping blood. After a while, he woke to hear someone - Ish Ulpin, by the sound of it - talking about Andranovory.
'We should have taken old Andranovory's offer,' said Ish Ulpin. 'It's our chance to get back to the Greaters.'
'Yes,' said Bucks Cat.
'You really want go back there?' said Whale Mike. T not like that. We happy here, that not so? In Greaters, nobody trust anybody. That not nice.'
'Who cares about nice?' said Ish Ulpin. 'I care about money.'
And Drake thought: Well, and so do we all.
Then drifted off to sleep again. Waking considerably later. What had woken him? A gull, yes, the harsh cry of a gull. Lament of the ages. He sat up, blinked. His eyes hot, red, sore. Infected from the dung heap? Maybe. The boat rocked. His arse was sore. His back was sore. A boat was no place to sleep.
'Hey,' said Drake. 'Where are we?'
He looked for the shore. It was a fair way distant. Well, to be exact: an unfair way distant. The whitewashed buildings with their roofs of blue and green tiles were shrunk by distance to the size of flecks of paint.
'This is more than three leagues!' said Drake.
And promptly leaped overboard. The sea was so wet! So big! So dark! Drake was most unhappy about it. But he was even less happy when Ish Ulpin picked up a harpoon and threatened him.
'Back in the boat, boy,' said Ish Ulpin. 'Get in, or I spear you.'
'What is this?' said Drake.
'Don't argue,' said Ish Ulpin. 'Get in!'
Drake paddled back to the boat. Whale Mike hauled him aboard, then took his turn at the tiller. Buck Cat and Ish Ulpin continued rowing.
'Hey, man,' said Drake uneasily. 'Three leagues is but six thousand paces. We're that far from shore already, I'll swear to it.'
He got no answer. He felt stupid, sitting there dripping wet, so stripped himself naked, wrung out his clothes then put them back on. Leaving his boots off. Those lovely new boots had felt dangerously heavy when he had been swimming in the sea. He bitterly regretted making his bet with Sully Yot, because it was clear enough now that he was going to lose his five shangles. Yes, and Yot would never let him forget it.
'Hey, boys,' said Drake, 'row me most of the way back in and I'll let you have three shangles. That's one each. That's a lot of money.'
Bucks Cat laughed, and pulled on his oars with a will.
'You're going too far!' said Drake.
'And we'll go further yet before you jump,' said Ish Ulpin, sunlight glinting on his fine white teeth as he smiled.
Smiled without humour.
'What is this?' said Drake. 'Vigilante justice or something?'
'Exactly,' said Ish Ulpin.
'I'm a citizen!' shouted Drake. 'A very religious boy! Just a boy, a tender-hearted boy. I want to work hard and worship, to learn obedience under the law, yes, learn my lessons, pay my taxes, reform, be good. Why are you doing this to me?'
'Certain merchants have paid us to,' said Ish Ulpin. 'Aye, and paid well, too. Nice work for easy money.'
'Merchants?' said Drake. 'Who? The guy with the watermelon stand? Or that man with the daughter?'
'None of those,' said Ish Ulpin. 'Nay. Men of more importance. Men who fear to see a fool named Dreldragon marry King Tor's daughter.'
'What?' said Drake. 'They're in lust with her?'
'Nay. But they fear a fool like you as king. You marry her tomorrow, the king could be dead the next day. He's old enough to die.'
'He might last another thirty years,' said Drake.
'And might not,' said Ish Ulpin. 'The people who pay us want no risks.'
'You can't do this!' howled Drake.
But got no reaction. Until Whale Mike said:
'He only boy, you know. We long way out. He not get back. This far enough, yes?'
'You always were soft in the head,' said Bucks Cat. 'I've swum further than this myself. He might do the same himself.'
'Unless we put a harpoon through him,' said Ish Ulpin. 'How about it?' 'Yes,' said Bucks Cat.
'Oh no,' said Whale Mike. 'That cruel. We not do that. We give him maybe just little chance. That nice, give some joker chance.'
'Was it you who gave Jon Arabin a chance?' said Ish Ulpin.
'What you talking about?' said.Whale Mike. 'When Slagger Mulps had him thrown overboard with all that iron tied to his feet,' said Ish Ulpin. 'You did the knots for the iron, didn't you?'
Whale Mike's big foolish face split in a grin.
'Oh yes,' he said. 'Good knots, eh? Jon, he smart fellow. He get those knots undone real nice. I make knots so he have little chance. No much. But he come up all right. That good fun. Old Walrus, he real pissed off. Good stuff. Jon blow kiss, that cracked me up, that real funny.'
'So that's why the Warwolf survived,' said Bucks Cat. 'Because Mike was in one of his funny moods.'
'I had a sword called Warwolf,' said Drake. 'Who's the Warwolf you're talking about?'
'You shut up,' said Ish Ulpin. 'We've heard enough out of you.'
'Yes,' said Bucks Cat. 'Keep your mouth shut, or we'll tie the anchor to your feet before we throw you over. I'll do the knots myself. They won't come undone if I do them!'
Drake, seeing the threat was serious, kept quiet thereafter. He counted what gulls he saw. There were not many of them. How far did gulls fly from shore? Some, he had heard, lived eternally at sea, never touching ground from one year to the next. He looked at his toes. Wriggled them. There were little ginger hairs growing on his toes. That was funny, that his head-hair should be blond yet his toe-hair ginger.
Knowing he might be close to death, he started to review his life. What did he see?
Mostly, lost opportunities. Women never laid, foes never beaten, fruit never stolen. Well, if he got out of this, the world would see a change in Drake Douay. Yes. No more Mr Nice Guy! He'd go for what he wanted, yes, ruthlessly, yielding to nothing. Life was short, so: grab while the grabbing's good.
While Drake was thinking thus, the crewmen rowed on. Bucks Cat put a line out and trolled for fish, with some success. As each fish was hauled aboard, it was cut up then eaten raw. Drake was horrified.
'This good,' said Whale Mike, throwing Drake a lump of fish.'Eat!'
'No,' said Drake. 'Raw fish is poison. Everyone knows that.' .
'I eat, I not hurt,' said Whale Mike.
'You're not human,' said Drake.
'Oh, I human enough,' said Whale Mike complacently. 'Come on, you try. That way find things out.'
'So it is,' said Drake, remembering what he had been taught in his theory classes about the experimental method.
But, even so, he was most reluctant to eat something which almost all of Stokos regarded as deadly poison. Finally, compelled by hunger, he tried some of the fish. It was not bad at all. And he got no harm from it.
'Well,' said Drake, 'they do say that travel broadens the mind.'
He was starting to feel quite comfortable in the boat. He had managed to convince himself that the crewmen would never force him into the sea. No, they were just indulging in a rather cruel joke. Sooner or later, they would admit as much. Then everyone on the brave boat Walrus would have a good laugh, and they would turn and row for shore. Once there, the crewmen might buy Drake a beer by way of apology. A beer? Two beers, minimum! They might buy him a woman, as well. Then Drake would go home and get a good night's sleep. And, bright and early in the morning, he would start on his first sword.
With such thoughts, Drake comforted himself. Until, toward sunset, when only a line of distant clouds marked the position of the shore, Ish Ulpin gave an order:
'Ease oars!'
The Walrus wallowed in the greasy swells. What lay beneath the sea's surface? Immense depths of dark, of cold, of drifting seaweed and hunting sharks.
'Sorry about this,' said Whale Mike.
'You mean . . .' said Drake. 'You mean you're really—'
'Did you think we were joking?' said Ish Ulpin.' Jump!' 'Yes,' said Bucks Cat. 'Before we cut your lips off.' 'This isn't fair!' said Drake. T never did anything to hurt you.'
'You lied to one of our friends,' said Ish Ulpin. 'You gave Atsimo Andranovory duff directions. Aye. You met him on the waterfront and—'
'But that's ridiculous!' said Drake. 'You can't kill me just because of that!'
'Ish Ulpin joking,' said Whale Mike. 'We not kill you because of that. We kill you because that our job. You better leave now.'
'Yes,' said Bucks Cat, jabbing at Drake with a harpoon. 'Leave now, if you want to leave with your liver.'
Bucks jabbed again. And Drake jumped. The oarsmen turned the good boat Walrus around and started rowing for the shore.
'This is a joke,' said Drake, swimming after them. 'It is a joke, isn't it? It could be, you know. I'll hold no grudge. I'll swear to you. Everything I own. My flesh, my body.'
'Keep your distance,' said Ish Ulpin, snatching the harpoon from Bucks Cat.
Ish Ulpin was ready to kill. Yes. It was no joke.
Drake trod water, floundering around in the swell and the slop. He swore. He wailed in despair. Then he shouted:
'It's too late now!' he screamed. 'Too late for me to get to the palace by sunset! So I'll never marry the king's daughter! Your merchants have got what they want! They're safe! You've earnt your money! I'll never be king! Pick me up, for love of your mother!'
'I've no love for my mother,' called Ish Ulpin. 'In fact, I strangled the bitch to celebrate my fourteenth birthday.'
And on rowed the boat.
Bucks Cat, holding the tiller, reclined like a lady of leisure. He trailed his free hand over the side, so water played around his fingers. He was safe. He was earning good money for this murder. He was happy. And he was letting Drake know just how good he felt.