Rude Awakenings

by Jonathan Eaves

  *

  122

  'I was just thinking about you,' said the Oracle, seemingly unsurprised at Theodore's sudden appearance.

  'And I appeared,' Theo replied. 'Strange, huh?'

  The Oracle slowly raised himself to his feet. 'And what brings you here?' he asked.

  Theo ignored the question. 'I haven't got time for small talk. I need you to tell me where those Merrie Men have gone. And what did they want of you?'

  The Oracle smiled. 'Of course I can tell you,' he began, 'but only when you have earned the right to do so, of course.'

  Theo groaned. 'Oh, not that old chestnut,' he sneered. 'You continue to pursue this ridiculous superstition and it's all so-'

  'Trivial?'

  'Exactly.' He studied the Oracle closely. 'Look, as much as I'd love to play your little game I simply don't have the time so I'll tell you what - you tell me what I want to know and I won't shove a piece of Pi up your-'

  The Oracle continued to smile. 'Don't threaten me, Theodore De Ville,' he said. 'You know as well as I that you can't physically harm anyone. Influence, yes, and temptation is also very popular in your line of business, I believe. But you cannot hurt me anyway. You know it is the Lore.'

  Theo sighed. The Oracle was right, but it didn't mean he had to like it. 'Life would be a great deal easier without that particular element of the Lore, you know,' he complained. 'Tempting and influencing is all very well but it takes up so much time. And time isn't something I have a great deal of at the moment.' He decided to change tack. 'How about you just answer the question and I'll come back another time to play your little game,' he suggested. 'That should balance things up, restore the harmony of the universe, that sort of thing-'

  The Oracle shook his head.

  'Aw, come on,' the devil continued. 'I'll even bring a six-pack.

  And a party-sized bag of peanuts. What do you say?'

  'No. You know that that is not possible.'

  'Rules are made to be broken, you know. Quite frankly I'd be out of a job if they weren't.'

  'The Lore is what holds the universe together,' the Oracle stated simply. 'Should the Lore ever be broken then the consequences would be catastrophic.'

  'Damn! You really are holier than thou!'

  The Oracle gave a small laugh. 'Well,' he said, 'it's not exactly hard being holier than thou, Theodore.'

  'Hah, bloody hah.'

  The Oracle turned away from the devil. 'If you wish me to answer a question, you know what to do,' he said over his shoulder.

  'Bugger that for a lark,' Theo muttered, and promptly vanished.

  123

  Alf Forsooth picked up his shovel, hauled his tool bag onto his bony shoulders and set off for home. As he shuffled westwards along the northern bank of the River Syx, whistling tunelessly, he thought back to one of the strangest days he'd ever experienced.

  Firstly there'd been the appearance of the dwarf, the lady and the shifty looking fellow that was with them. Perverts, all of them, Alf was sure. Then there was the scream. It had come from over Deadferry way, and whether it was a scream of pain or of frustration, Alf hadn't been able to tell. Whatever it was it had made his blood run cold, which was no easy task given that Alf was 87 years old, couldn't remember the last time he'd felt his pulse, and was so riddled with arthritis that he even felt pain in his shovel.

  But most strange of all was the floating rock. Alf certainly wouldn't describe himself as an intellectual, but he was pretty sure that rocks shouldn't float. It had been about 8 inches in diameter and had created a small wake as it had travelled downstream. But suddenly it had turned and drifted directly across the current. Alf had watched it until it had turned a bend in the river and floated out of view. For some reason the sight of a floating rock had made him uneasy. He'd have been a damn sight more uneasy if he had witnessed, only moments later, several hundred pounds of troll, irate and very wet, clamber unsteadily onto the bank.

  124

  Port Tawny had once been a bustling town which had grown up around a natural harbour and had been Marasmus's gateway to the wider world. But, with the coming of the trolls, commerce had fallen into decline and now Port Tawny was a run-down, near-derelict sort of place and the small harbour was home only to a tiny fishing fleet and the occasional merchant vessel which had inadvertently entered the port looking for shelter. Given the nature of Port Tawny's remaining residents it was unlikely that any such vessel would be allowed to leave, at least with any of its cargo intact.

  Occasionally there would be one or two other vessels in port whose business tended to be shrouded in mystery, although the skull and cross-bone flags flying atop their masts tended to give the game away. On the night Robin and the Merrie Men arrived in Port Tawny there was one such vessel laying at anchor, lanterns flickering fore and aft, and which gloried in the name of the Blue Pill. It lay alongside some smaller fishing boats. Enquiries as to the captain of the Blue Pill eventually led them to a ramshackle tavern, the Three Sheets.

  Anyx looked up at the peeling inn sign before turning to the others. 'I don't think it would be a good idea if we all pile in to this place,' he suggested. 'It would look too suspicious.'

  'So what do you propose?' asked Robin.

  'You lot should wait outside; this is my area of expertise,' the dwarf replied. He went to enter the inn. 'Oh,' he said, turning back to them. 'Has anyone got any money?' he asked innocently.

  'What do you need that for?' asked Robin.

  'To... smooth the way,' answered Anyx, non-committedly.

  'To smooth your throat, more like,' commented A'Veil.

  'Not at all!' protested the dwarf. 'But I'll probably have to buy the captain a drink, just to get him talking, you know.' A thought suddenly occurred to him. 'Anyway,' he looked accusingly at Robin, 'if we haven't got any money, how are we going to pay for the ship?'

  Robin had to concede the dwarf had a point. 'Alright, here's a shilling,' he said, throwing a coin towards Anyx. 'That's more than enough for a couple of ales. As for paying for the ship, well, we'll deal with that when we have to.'

  'You mean we haven't got any cash to pay for the ship?'

  'Leave that to me,' Robin replied evasively. 'You just concentrate on securing the services of the captain, right?'

  Anyx nodded. 'Alright,' he agreed, and turned to enter the Three Sheets.

  Inside he found a typical seaman's tavern. Nautical paraphernalia hung on the walls; ropes knotted into reefs, bends and shanks, brass bells, and various seascapes in watercolours. Low benches provided the seating, and sailors of all descriptions were sat at them, most of them with their heads resting on the tables. The dwarf was greeted by a cacophony of drunken snoring.

  What struck the dwarf most wasn't the seamen who were present, but the bits of them that weren't. One in two had patches covering presumably empty eye sockets; one in three had a hook instead of a hand, and at least one in five was the possessor of a wooden leg. In fact, between the two dozen or so seamen present there was not one man who could be considered 'whole'.

  Except one, Anyx eventually noticed. He studied the uniquely complete sailor for a moment. He was dressed all in black, sported a forked beard, braids in his hair and what seemed to be coal dust smeared around his eyes. Ah well, thought Anyx. He had heard about sailors and, well, each to his own as far as he was concerned.

  The other thing that was immediately apparent was that there were more parrots within the inn than in a rainforest, and that the avian vocabulary was invariably... colourful.

  Behind the bar a grizzled-looking middle-aged man (complete with the compulsory eye patch and a hook) was struggling to open a bottle. Occasionally he would raise the hook to the patch and scratch. Perhaps that was how he lost his eye in the first place, the dwarf wondered idly before approaching.

  'Excuse me, Landlord,' he said.

  The landlord looked up. Then, on seeing the dwarf, looked down. 'Yeah,' he grunted. 'What do you want?'

  Anyx looked around c
onspiratorially and beckoned the landlord closer. 'I was wondering,' he said in a low voice, 'if the captain of the Blue Pill had been in today?'

  The landlord was immediately suspicious. 'Oo wants to know?' he asked aggressively.

  'Well, I do, of course,' replied the dwarf.

  'Obwiously,' replied the Landlord. 'What I meant to say was, 'oo the bloody 'ell are you?'

  'My name is Anyx Abychson,' the dwarf replied grandly. 'And to whom do I have the honour of talking?'

  'What?'

  'What's your name?'

  'Wictor.'

  'Victor?'

  'That's right. Wictor.'

  'Alright then, Victor, it's very nice to meet you.'

  'Oh,' said Victor, softening. He was a gentle soul, at heart, and merely kept up the gruff persona for appearances sake. 'And it's wery nice to meet you too.'

  'A flagon of ale then please, Victor.'

  'Coming right up. 'Ere,' he whispered as he poured the drink. 'Listen, I didn't tell you but see that bloke over there,' - he nodded towards the dark-eyed sailor - 'the one in the battered tri-corn 'at?'

  ''At?'

  ''At. Thing on 'is 'ead.'

  'Oh, hat. Yes, I see him.'

  'Well, you could ask 'im about the Blue Pill.'

  'Is he the captain?' Anyx asked, eyeing the sailor.

  'Could be, my small friend,' Victor replied, tapping the side of his nose with his hook.

  'I see. What's his name?'

  Victor bent to whisper in the dwarf's ear. 'Why, 'e's the notorious Captain Dick Swallow, o' course.'

  'That's really his name,' asked the disbelieving dwarf.

  Victor nodded.

  'Fair enough. Can't say that I've heard of him,' Anyx confessed.

  'Well don't tell 'im that. 'E prides 'imself on being wery famous 'e does. And make sure you call 'im Captain.'

  Anyx slipped the shilling across the bar and nodded his thanks.

  'Oh, and one more thing,' said Victor. ''E's a bit... touched, you know. But saltwater runs in 'is weins, it does. Best bloody seaman in these parts, 'e is. Well, according to 'im, any'ow.'

  'Right, well, thanks for your help.' Gathering up his flagon Anyx wandered over to where the strange looking sailor was sat staring into an empty tankard.

  The dwarf cleared his throat. 'Ahem.'

  The Captain looked up and struggled to focus. 'What do you want?' he asked eventually. His voice was slurred but strangely precise and now that he'd managed to control his eyes they were mildly staring. 'Well?'

  'Captain Dick Swallow, I presume?'

  'Ah,' the captain replied with a dramatic flourish which nearly caused him to overbalance. 'You've heard of me.'

  'Why, of course,' lied the dwarf. 'Hasn't everybody? The famous Captain Dick Swallow! Your name is known far and wide, wherever men gather and talk about... ropes and... weevils and... other such things to do with boats.'

  The Captain smiled and doffed the battered tri-corn. 'And what can I do for you, my diminutive friend?' he asked, enunciating carefully.

  'I'm looking for a ship.'

  The captain leaned back in order to look the dwarf up and down, which obviously didn't take long. 'You want to join up?' he asked doubtfully.

  'No,' replied the dwarf. 'We want to... charter.'

  'Charter, eh? To go where?' asked Swallow, suspiciously.

  'Gynys Mon,' answered the dwarf.

  The Captain leaned forward. 'And why would you want to go there? Seeing as nobody lives there nowadays.'

  Anyx shook his head. 'Apparently men with no tails and three plus one-legged cats live there, or so I'm told.'

  Swallow beetled his brow, always an impressive trick. 'The other way around, surely?'

  'Well that was what I thought, but-'

  The captain waved his hands expansively in dismissal. 'It doesn't matter. Nobody lives there now, I'm sure.' He stared back down at his empty tankard. 'Well, apart from-'

  'Apart from who exactly?' Anyx demanded.

  'It doesn't matter,' the captain drawled. He waved his hand in dismissal. 'I'm sorry, I can't take you.'

  Anyx nodded but couldn't afford to give in. The Blue Pill was the only ship in the