Hugh Cook - The Werewolf and the Wormlord

White shone that light on the sands of the shore; and white alike it shone on the waves of the sea, the full tide seas which stretched between Thodrun and the shore. Having no boat, and lacking any inclination to swim the distance, Alfric must perforce wait for low tide. Which he did. He dumped his pack well above the surfswash, then walked backwards and forwards, trying to keep warm, kicking at discards of clam shells and gaunt fragilities of driftwood deep-mined by seaworm, eroded by sandscour and windwork, scorched by fire or otherwise shaped and channelled by the servants of time.

As Alfric waited for the tide to recede, a growing impatience possessed him. The Bank had taught him (too well, perhaps) that time is money; and Alfric was ever inclined to thriftiness. He tried to be economical by drilling himself in the Janjuladoola tongue. He was fluent enough in that language, as he had proved in encounters with Pran No Dree. But there was always room for improvement. And it was important to improve; for, once he won promotion, he would be dealing regularly with Obooloo, and a mastery of Janjuladoola was essential for success in such dealings.

Despite this incentive, Alfric found himself unable to concentrate on mental revision. Obooloo was remote, distant, a dream. What was real was the here and now: sand underboot and the nightwind on his face. Momentarily, he wished his father was here to see him playing the Yudonic Knight to the full. A credit to his family and his people!

Then such thoughts ceased, for Something was coming.

And Something commanded his attention to the full.

Something sparkled and sharkled in the sea-shifting turbulence. It was a dragon, and it was swimming. Alfric’s first thought was:

— How small it is.

Small it was indeed, for it was no larger than his horse. A little smaller, if anything.

At first, he wondered if the dragon had seen him, for it swam back and forth as if for no particular purpose. Then he began to suspect it was showing off. Particularly when it started indulging itself in some body surfing.

Such surfing at length brought the dragon into the shallows. It then waddled out of the waves and started up the beach. It halted at a cautious distance from the Banker Third Class, then shook itself like a dog, scattering water in all directions. A few stray flecks splattered against Alfric’s spectacles, much to his annoyance.

‘Hello,’ said the sea dragon Qa. ‘Have you come to kill me?’

‘I have,’ said Alfric.

‘Where’s your horse, then?’

‘Pardon?’ said Alfric.

‘I asked after your horse,’ said Qa.

‘I don’t have one.’

‘Oh, come on,’ said Qa. ‘You don’t expect me to believe that. You’re a Yudonic Knight. Of course you have a horse.’

‘How do you know I’m a Yudonic Knight? How can you be sure? I could be a commoner.’

"Commoners don’t go in for dragon hunting,’ said Qa.

There’s always an exception to every rule,’ said Alfric.

‘Yes, but you’re not one of them,’ said Qa. ‘You’re Alfric Danbrog, son of Grendel Danbrog. You’re here to kill me so you can rescue the ironsword Edda.’

‘How do you know that?’ said Alfric, startled.

‘Oh, I have my sources,’ said Qa, sounding immensely pleased with himself. ‘Now where’s your horse?’

‘I told you I don’t have one.’

‘Don’t be like that,’ said Qa. ‘Your horse is my legitimate perk.’

‘Your perk?’

‘My perk, yes. Or my pay, that’s another way of putting it. That’s all part of my contract.’

‘Your contract?’ said Alfric in mounting amazement. ‘Yes. My contr act with Saxo Pall. I get paid, you know. You don’t think I’m in this for my health, do you? I’m guarding treasure. So I get paid just like any other guard.’

‘Dragons,’ said Alfric, ‘hoard treasure because that is their nature. They’re a breed of creature given to thieving because that’s how they’re bom. Like magpies. They like the bright and the shiny.’

‘Oh no,’ said Qa, sounding greatly offended. ‘You’ve got it all wrong. That’s land dragons you’re talking about, those great hulking brutes with much fire but no brains. Those are the ones who operate from instinct. But I’m a sea dragon, which means I’m at least the intellectual equal of every person in Wen Endex.’

‘You still hoard treasure and kill questing heroes,’ said Alfric, determined to win this debate.

‘Yes, yes, but not because I have any natural inclination to do any such thing. I do it because I get paid. I’m on an annual salary with a bonus for every questing hero duly killed and eaten. As for the horses, those are a perk. A legitimate perk! So where’s yours?’

‘Wait a moment,’ said Alfric. ‘What do you mean, you’re on a salary? Who’s paying you?’

‘Why, the Wormlord, of course,’ said Qa. ‘Who else would pay me?’

‘But — but you’re a — a — you’re an enemy of the state. A marauding monster. An outlaw.’

‘No,’ said Qa. ‘I’m a royal dragon. It increases the Wormlord’s prestige enormously to have me in Wen Endex.’

‘You’re talking the most absolute nonsense,’ said Alfric, starting to get angry. ‘The Wormlord doesn’t league with renegade monsters. The very idea is — is-’ ‘Monstrous?’ suggested Qa.

‘Well, yes, monstrous.’

‘Next thing you’ll be saying I’m monstrous!’ said Qa. ‘Listen here, Danbrog. Haven’t you learnt to think yet? How many men does it take to kill a dragon?’

‘You’re not immortal,’ said Alfric.

‘Blood of the Gloat!’ said Qa. ‘I invite it to think and all it does is threaten. It must be a Yudonic Knight, for all that it thinks itself a banker.’

‘Today I’m a Yudonic Knight indeed,’ said Alfric. ‘Hence I come with my sword to kill you.’

‘Why with a sword?’ said Qa.

‘Because that’s what tradition decrees,’ said Alfric. ‘And why do you come alone?’ said Qa. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me that’s tr aditional as well.’

‘I can hardly tell you otherwise, because that’s the truth,’ said Alfric. ‘Tradition is what tradition is.’

‘And where does tradition come from, eh? Why don’t men go hunting dragons with crossbows? Eh? Ask yourself that, Danbrog. A dozen men with crossbows and I’d have no hope at all. The Wormlord sends people solo with swords because he wants them dead.’

‘That’s absurd!’ said Alfric.

‘Is it?’ said Qa. ‘Think about it. It’s a perfectly reasonable way for the king to get rid of dangerous young men with more ambition tha n sense.’ ‘Reasonable!’ said Alfric.

‘Oh yes,’ said Qa. ‘And merciful. I mean, they die with honour and all that. Better still, there’s no feud between the king and the families of the deceased.’ Alfric’s mind was positively boggling by now. But… what the dragon was saying made uncommonly good sense. And Alfric, thanks to his studies and experience with the Bank, knew all things are possible in politics. Weakly he asked:

‘Do you think this arrangement is strictly ethical?’ ‘Ethical?’ sa id Qa. ‘Oh yes, it’s ethical to ensure the orderly management of the a ffairs of state. Power is always challenged. You have to handle the ch allenges somehow.’ ‘There are other ways,’ said Alfric.

‘Of course there are,’ said Qa. ‘You could have democratic electio ns like the pirates of the Greaters.’ ‘Democratic elections?’ said Alf ric. ‘What are you talking about?’

The sea dragon Qa explained.

‘Oh,’ said Alfric, ‘now I know what you mean. Voting and all that. No, that’d never work in Wen Endex. The Knights would never stand for it. We’d have civil war. Besides, if we had one of these election things, the Wormlord might lose.’