by Hugh Cook
'Rape!' she screamed. 'Demon-son! Rape! Help! Fire, fire! Murder!'
And clawed him as he tried to muscle her to the door. Which burst open. In came a man, nostrils flaring. Drake dropped Zanya. Then felled the man with a jaw-breaking blow. Boots pounded down the corridor. Drake slammed the door then shoved Zanya against it.'I love you,' he said.
He pinned her arms. Kissed her. Then fled. Out of the window he went, dropping clean and neat to the courtyard.
'Ho!' shouted a voice, as half a dozen stave-men came racing out of a side-door.
'He went that way!' yelled Drake, pointing. 'After him! It's the Demon-son, he went that way! Faster, faster! He'll get away!'
The stave-men pounded off in the direction Drake had indicated. Drake made for the gate. And came face to face with something which had two eyes and a much greater number of warts.'Drake!' said Sully Yot. 'Demon-'
His shout was terminated by Drake's fist. Half a heartbeat later, Drake had Yot's stave in his hand. He used it to demolish the first hero who jumped to the courtyard from Zanya's window.'There he is!' shouted a voice.No bluff would serve him now!
Drake fled to the gate, fought his way past a daring duo which tried to stop him, then escaped into Libernek Square. At which point he realized there was a dog attached to his ankle. Where had that come from? He had no idea – but the spunky little tyke was clinging on tightly. Drake shook it off. And a voice shouted:'Stand fast for the Watch!'
He saw five grim men, each dressed in a stovepipe hat and the black rig-out of the Law. He saw, also, swords quintuplicate. He surrendered. Then turned his attention to the task of kicking a cur unconscious.
Stave-men dressed in Flame spilt into the piazza, but halted when they saw the Watch. As an Outsider Religion, Muck's temple could not afford antagonizing the Law by rumbling with the Watch. Instead, the stave-men stood silent as Drake was led away.
And still the nightingale exercised its syrinx in song.
46
Watashi: one of the sons of the Kingmaker Farfalla, refuses to accept his role as professional nonentity; has generated political crisis by his aristocratic pretensions, which alarm both the bureaucracy of the Regency and the Federated Guilds (which between them have much of the real power in the Harvest Plains).
Drake was taken to a lantern-lit whitewashed building full of off-duty lawmen and their gambling partners, the clatter of beer mugs and the smell of frying onions. This cheerful place was the Santrim Watch-house. He was then taken Down Below to a torture chamber where the dominant smell was that of burnt hair.
'What was all the fighting, about?' asked an interrogator, testing the point of a bodkin on a much-scarred table. 'Come on, what was it all about?'
'Man,' said Drake. 'How do I know? Some fellow invited me back to the place for a quiet drink or three. Next thing – riot, man!''No religious of that temple drinks.'
'Don't they just? It's a regular rolling brothel-bar they've got inside there. Check it out some time.''How did you get those robes you're wearing?'
'They wanted me to wear alike what they were wearing. So when this fellow invited me back for a drink, he lent me these.''Search him,' said the interrogator.So underlings searched Drake, and threw onto the table
three knives, a throwing star, two garrotting wires and a stray caltrop.'What's all this for?' asked the interrogator.
'I'm a peddler,' said Drake promptly. T deal in weapons. This is part of my stock in trade.'
Since there was no law against carrying murder on the streets of Selzirk, the interrogator pressed him no further about that.'Do a strip search,' he said.
'You've found all that's there for finding already,' protested Drake. 'What will you strip me for. You seek to unman me, perhaps?''That I do,' said the interrogator, blandly.And Drake was stripped.
And the amulet he wore around his neck was revealed. Causing great excitement.'Where did you get this from?' said the interrogator.
'It's a family heirloom,' said Drake. 'I inherited it from my grandfather.''Oh yes? I doubt Watashi would agree with you.''Who's Watashi?' demanded Drake.
The interrogator and his underlings all laughed. Richly. Honestly. He realized he must have asked a very stupid question.
'Playing innocent, are we?' said the interrogator. 'By rights, I should put the jaws to you, then choke you for the truth. But. . . we've got the evidence, so what more do we need?'
'Evidence of what? Man, that's my amulet! My property! Is there a law against amulets? And who's this Watashi?'
'There is, young cock, a law against stealing – whether the thing stolen be amulet or other. And Watashi, of course, is the man you stole from.''I never! I don't even know who he is.'
There was more laughter. Then the interrogator, who had other business to attend to, had Drake taken to a holding cell.
'Don't give me no trouble, now,' warned the gaoler who locked him up.
'I won't,' said Drake, through the cell bars, 'if I can get a straight answer to a simple question. Who's Watashi?''The son of Farfalla, of course.''Farfalla?' said Drake, blankly.'The dynast of Selzirk! The ruler of the Harvest Plains!' 'Oh.''You've never heard of her?'
'Man,' said Drake, 'I vouch she's never heard of me, either, so why so surprised?'
The gaoler grunted, and, ignoring Drake's demands for further debate, went about his business.
At noon the next day, Drake was back in the torture chamber, facing not one interrogator but half a dozen.
'See this?' said one, letting the amulet swing backwards and forwards in front of Drake's nose, 'we want to know the truth about this.''Truth, yes.''Truth your tongue, lest you end up face down in the sea.''Yes, if lucky enough to have facejeft to you.''What truth are you after?' said Drake.
'The truth of your thieving. Accomplices. Conspiracy. A plot for treason.'
So they were not trying to convict him for theft. They wanted to do him for treason!'Narazabarajok, gamos,' said Drake.Which earned him a punch in the stomach.
'I want a lawyer!' cried Drake. 'I'll have the Regency on you!'
This drew laughter.
'Man,' said one of the interrogators, 'we give no allegiance here to the Regency. No. We're for the prince. We'll see empire true before we' re finished.'
But this declaration meant nothing to Drake, who was still ignorant of the politics of Selzirk.
'Until I get a lawyer,' said Drake, 'I'm saying nothing further.'
And he shut his mouth and refused to speak, despite kicks, blows and a thorough cudgeling.
'What shall we do?' said one of the interrogators, 'Shall we pull his fingernails out?'
'Best speak to the prince, first,' said one of the others. 'He might want to work on this animal personally.'So Drake was taken back to his cell.
After three days in captivity, Drake was told he was to be brought into the presence of Watashi. By now he knew a little more about the fellow, including the fact that Watashi liked to be addressed as 'Noble Prince'.
'You're lucky,' said one of the lawmen who came to collect Drake from his cell.'How so?''We're keeping the Mucks away from you.' 'The Mucks?'
'The Goudanites, or whatever they are. Those people who worship fire.' 'Oh, Gouda Muck!'
'That's the mob. They think you're a dybbuk or something. They want to burn you alive.''And they know you've got me prisoner?'
'Oh no! But they know you're somewhere in the city. They're offering rewards for your head.''Is that legal?'
'You're a regular little law clerk, aren't you? When you come back – if you come back – I'll get you to write some letters for me.'-'Man,' said Drake. 'I can't even read, let alone write!'
'Of course you can. You're just lazy. But I've ways to unlazy people, oh yes, that's part of my pleasure in life.'
And Drake, with that happy news to refresh him, was ushered into a curtained cab, which took him from the Santrim Watch-house to somewhere elsewhere. Then, with his head hooded, he was led by way of halls and stairs to a big bare room of grey ston
e, where he was unmasked.'What now?' said Drake to his guards.'Now we wait on the prince's pleasure,' came the reply.
And wait they did. For a long time. Nobody bothered to offer them refreshments. Drake picked his nose clean, excavated earwax, dug dirt from under his fingernails, practised curling his tongue and, concentrating very hard, managed to make his ears wiggle. Then, with fingertips lightly touching each eyebrow to monitor their position, he practised raising one while keeping the other steady.
Someone, somewhere, was playing a fipple-flute. Two orthree notes. Then silence. Then a few more notes, broken off by error. Drake wondered how long he had been waiting. He wished there was some sun in the room, so he could watch shadows move.'I have to piss,' he said, abruptly.'Out that door then hard right,' said a lawman.
Drake went, and found himself on a high balcony overlooking much of the city. This balcony was an excrescence of a modern tower built hard up against the gatehouse keep of the ancient wizard stronghold which served the Kingmaker Farfalla as a citadel-palace. While much of the old battlements remained, together with the original wizard towers, enormous additions had been made.
Drake relieved himself at a urinal set in the balcony's low wall. A rill of his urine went trickling down a funnel into a gargoyle which spat his wastes into the air. Where would those wastes fall?
Drake looked over the wall, and found himself staring down, down, down into a yawning gulf at the bottom of which, far, far below, lazy dragon-backed flames writhed slowly. He realized he was looking into a flame trench. He was not impressed. Compared to what he had seen at Drangsturm, this was nothing.
He raised his eyes, and looked out over the realms of the free. A lean wind keened across the city, begging for bones. Dull clouds dampened out the sun. Drake could see half a dozen galleys and a string of gabbarts on the river's pewter, which wound away to the west, to a menace of clouds which obscured any possible view of the distant sea.
Drake experienced a peculiar sensation of desolation. He longed to be home, yes, truly home, at his parents' hearth. How long was it since he had seen a decent coal fire?
'You'd best be back,' said a lawman, who had come to see what had happened to the prisoner. 'The prince is approaching the audience chamber.'
That chamber was the same big bare grey room which Drake had already sat in for so long. He waited. In came a tough, fierce-faced swordsman wearing plumed helm, glittering greaves and battle-ready mail. Behind him came half a dozen men more simply dressed.
'Watashi?' said Drake, getting to his feet. 'Man, I've got a few-'
'Shut up,' said the swordsman. 'No – don't sit. Stay on your feet. The prince will be here soon.''Who are you then?' said Drake.
'I am Thodric Jarl, warrior of Rovac. And these are the prince's guards. Lawmen, you may go.'
There was an exchange of courtesies, then the black-clad lawmen retired, leaving Drake to the mercies of the prince's guards.
'Man,' said Drake. 'It's great news, you being a Rovac warrior and all. I used to know one myself, he calls himself Rolf Thelemite.'
'Thelemite?' said Jarl. 'So the oath-breaker still lives! Very well. Once the prince is finished with you, I have business with your flesh. If it still lives. I will have your knowledge of this Thelemite. Yes, and see him dead.'And Drake thought:How did I get into this mess?
Then into the room came a haughty man of about age twenty-five, battle-scars on his face. Brown hair, brown eyes and dark-brown skin. Robes of blue silk, boots of white leather. A sword at his side.
'I am Watashi,' he said, 'hero of war and rightful inheritor of the Harvest Plains. Down on your knees, peon! Come on! Get down!''Make me,' said Drake.
Watashi's guards proceeded to do just that. After
Drake had been roughed up a bit, he was allowed to stand. Bloodied but still unbowed.
'It's wrong to treat me like this,' he said. 'I'm an honest peddler, from Runcorn, I demand-''You demand nothing!' barked Thodric Jarl.And gave physical emphasis to his words.
'That's enough,' said Watashi, at length. 'We don't want him dead before we have the truth out of him. You – who are you, and what?'
'I've told you,' said Drake, belligerent as ever. 'I'm from Runcorn. A peddler. Aye, and an honest man.''Honest? Then why did you steal my bard?''Your bard? What means this bard?'
'This!' said Watashi, dangling a familiar object in front of Drake.
It was a glossy black lozenge which, as it dangled from the slim black chain which sustained it, turned to reveal first a sun then a moon with stars.
'I never stole anything,' said Drake. T got the – the bard thing down in Ling.'
'You not only stole it,' said Watashi. 'You damaged it as well. There's a gouge ripped right through the skin under the sun.'
'That? Man, that's just a nick. Some fellow tried to knife me in Narba.''In Narba?''It's a seaport, down south where-'
T know where Narba is! It was your veracity I was questioning, not your geography.'
'Veracity. Aye. You mean my truth. Didn't think I'd know the word, either, did you? Well, man, it's all true enough. Oh yes, and it's a great tale into the bargain. Sit yourself down, get some wine laid on, and I could keep your ears buzzing for the next sixty years. Aye, truth and wonders, that's what I've seen.'
This offer was meant to be conciliatory. But Watashi was not in a placable mood.'I've no interest in fairy tales,' said he.
'Man, then I'll tell you none,' said Drake, 'for I've never seen a fairy. But I've seen elves, aye, elves with handfuls of legs apiece on a flying island. And a dwarf, yes, right recent. Down at the Eagle, in fact. A friend of mine stepped on him.'
'That was my dwarf!' shouted Watashi. 'His name's Glambrax. You cracked his ribs!'
'Man, no need to shout,' said Drake. T can hear you from here. Anyway, it wasn't me that stepped on him. And cracked ribs heal up nice enough. Why, I got me ribs bust in a fight I could tell you about, a regular scramble it was, epic, aye, like those wars of the ancients. Why-''Enough of your nonsense,' said Watashi. 'Look here!'
And he snapped his fingers to summon a servant, who displayed a shield for Drake's inspection. On it was emblazoned a black rustre, with a crescent moon and seven stars arranged on the surrounding red.'What is it?' said Drake.
'It's a coat of arms, made for me last year. And proof that the bard was mine!'
'I got the amulet in Ling,' insisted Drake. 'There were dozens of them, each like to each as so many glips.''Glips?' said Watashi, who knew not that Orfus word.
'Aye. Little silver fish, a fingerlength each. Man, they'd look right handsome on your coat of arms, one chasing each of those seven fancy stars.'This suggestion was not well received.'I paid fifty skilders for that bard!' said Watashi.
'Well then, I'd like a cut of that money. Because it was likely stolen property you were paying out for. My property! Won with great cost in Ling, aye, fights with metal and all. Then stolen from me in Narba, yes, by some villainous pirates or such in a bar.'
'Enough of your cheek,' said Watashi. 'Some papers went missing when this bard was stolen. Very important papers. I want them back!'
'Man, I can't read nor write. What would I want with papers?'
'To sell them to the Regency, perhaps,' said Watashi. 'Give me the truth! Who was with you? Where did the papers go? Answer, or I'll choke the life out of you!'
'You won't get many answers from a choked-dead man,' said Drake.
'No, but I'd get a lot of satisfaction,' said Watashi, something ugly in his voice. This was getting serious.
'I want alawyer,' said Drake, who had fond memories of the games he had played with the City Fathers in Runcorn when the formidable Garimanthea had been in support.'A what?'
'A lawyer! Aye, then we'll have some fun. Aye, injunctions and mandamuses to start with. Then worse! Court costs and colloquy and such.'
'What are you talking about?' said Watashi, to whom these threats – couched as they were in an obscure variant of Galish especially invented for th
e law courts of Runcorn – were completely unintelligible.
'I'm talking about a quo warranto, to start with,' said Drake, getting excited, already imagining the looks of anxiety, contrition and terror which the right lawyer would bring to Watashi's face.'A what?'
' It means you have to prove yourself out as the prince you claim to be. Aye, then there's a better writ, I forget the name of it, which means you have to prove you exist at all. Oh, that can be a tricky one!'
'You seriously mean to try to bring me to courts?' said Watashi, incredulously, as he began to understand Drake's intent. T don't grabble in the courts with the common crowd! Take him away and interrogate him for the truth!'And Drake was dragged away by Watashi's guards.
Drake started shouting about civil liberties and Habeas Corpus. So the guards, knowing full well that Watashi's detention of Drake was in law no more than a kidnapping, gagged him lest someone should hear.
'Don't try anything stupid,' said Thodric Jarl, warrior of
Rovac and bodyguard to Watashi. 'Most of all, don't try to escape. For if you get out of here, the Mucks will catch you in the city. Then, if rumour's only half-way true, they'll skin you alive and strangle you with your own intestines.'
'Mmf eph gumph,' said Drake, speaking as best he could with a gag in his mouth.
But Thodric Jarl made no effort to remove Drake's gag, guessing that the angry young man was only trying to give voice to some obscenities which he knew well enough already, thank you very much.In fact, Drake was trying to say:'I can't breathe! I can't breathe!'
But he was still alive by the time they reached Watashi's very private torture chamber.
47
Morgan Hearst: one of the leaders of a band of questing heroes which had several interesting adventures with dragons, wizards and magic before mutiny split their ranks. While Hearst and others continued the quest, the mutineers – including Andranovory, Erhed and others – came down the Velvet River through Chenameg to Selzirk.