Hugh Cook - The Werewolf and the Wormlord

‘Some of those things are becoming positively alcoholic,’ said Blaume. ‘But never mind. Let’s talk of what’s really important. Who was it who tried to kill you? And how can we stop them?’

‘I don’t know who it was,’ said Alfric. ‘As for how you can stop them, why, the only way for me to save my life now is for me to make myself king. But I don’t know that I can hope to survive the next few days.’

‘Of course you can,’ said Anna Blaume.

‘Listen,’ said Cod, ‘we’re to present ourselves to Saxo Pall some four nights from now.’

‘So?’ said Alfric.

‘So, come with us,’ said Cod. ‘We’re ambassadors, aren’t we? Whoever’s out to kill you, they’re not likely to attack you while you’re with two ambassadors.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ said Alfric.

But, on reflection, he saw that the ork’s plan had a lot to recommend it. Alfric’s main danger was from Ursula Major. She would move cautiously where the ogre king’s ambassadors were concerned, ‘It’s a good plan,’ said Anna Blaume. ‘You stay here, Alfric. We’ll keep you safe with the orks. Nobody will dare to move against you.’

And so it was that, shortly, an exhausted Alfric Danbrog was asleep in Anna Blaume’s big bed, with an ork keeping watch over him. While Alfric slept, untunchilamons descended to his pillow, and ravaged the few lice that were to be found in his hair. Then settled there to sleep themselves, liking the warmth of his body.

Thus the rightful king of Galsh Ebrek slept in the house of one of his loyal subjects, guarded by the minions of the lord of the Qinjoks and by the valour of the dragons of Wen Endex.

The rightful king of Wen Endex spent three nights sheltering in the Green Cricket with the ambassadors from the Qinjoks. Then, on the fourth night, he accompanied them to Saxo Pall, where the orks were to have an audience with Ursula Major.

There was some trouble when the three-strong party arrived at Saxo Pall, for Guignol Grangalet sought to separate Alfric from the orks. But Cod and Morgenstem stood firm, and insisted that Alfric be allowed to accompany them into the throneroom.

Which, at last, he was allowed to do.

Though Ursula Major had ruled Saxo Pall but briefly, she had made her mark on it in a mixed way. The throneroom had been massively renovated since Alfric had been there last. It blazed with light, for the number of lanterns in the place had been tripled. Everything had been washed, polished, scrubbed or refurbished; and, to his surprise, Alfric found he could see his reflection in the unstained floor. He had always thought it roughwork granite of some kind; but, now the muck of generations had been scoured away, he saw the floor was made of the smoothest white-veined black marble.

Sitting on the throne was Ursula Major, as poised as ever. She was wearing silks; and her nipples flowered against her silks. Something in the way she sat suggested that she was fully conscious of the perfection of her breasts and the effect it had on the susceptible; and, little as Alfric wanted to admit it, in truth he was one of the susceptible.

‘Stand here,’ said Guignol Grangalet.

‘Where?’ said Alfric, taking his eyes off Ursula Major.

‘Never mind where he says,’ said Cod firmly. ‘You’re staying with us.’

Again the orks stood firm; and Alfric stayed in the company of those ambassadors from the Qinjoks as they made between them an interminable and wearisome speech about the long friendship which had endured between that king and the lords of Galsh Ebrek.

The witnesses to this speech were many; but Alfric felt very much alone and isolated, for the many were Yudonic Knights to a man, and fear of assassins had kept him from making any effort to repair his relationships with the breed.

While listening to Cod and Morgenstem enlarge upon their theme, Alfric had ample time to watch Ursula Major, and to think, and to wonder. Was she still ruling as regent? Or had she declared herself to be the new king? Really, the question was immaterial. Obviously, she was now the ruling power in Wen Endex: and that was what really mattered. He observed the way she teased a strand of her hair through her fingers. She was bored with this, he could tell. Boredom betrays itself swiftly. So was she unhappy sitting on the throne? Perhaps. But perhaps it was her nature to be bored with life; and, in any case, since when did anyone surrender a throne out of mere ennui?

As Alfric watched Ursula Major, admiring the elegance of the hair which flowed in ripples about her neck, he knew that he wanted her; but greater than lust was the desire to kill. But if anyone was going to do any killing in Saxo Pall, it was more likely to be Ursula than Alfric.

At last, Ursula Major was finished with the orks.

‘We will deliberate,’ she said, thus sidelining the petition which the orks had just made, which was for them to be allowed to address a general assembly of the Yudonic Knights of Galsh Ebrek.

Now Ursula was ready to deal with Alfric.

‘Alfric,’ she said.

‘Greetings, aunt,’ said Alfric.

He chose to address her thus for two reasons. First, because he knew she hated to be thus addressed. Second, because he wanted to stress the family connection. Surely Ursula Major could not order the death of a family member without shaming herself beyond redemption.

Or could she?

In Obooloo, Aldarch the Third had celebrated his victory in a seven-year civil war by disembowelling his forty-seven brothers and feeding his twenty-nine sisters to the Favoured Rats; but nobody thought any the worse of him for that.

‘We hear,’ said Ursula Major coldly, ‘that you were the man who got my father killed.’

Alfric had been ready for many accusations. He thought Ursula Major might have tried to accuse him, for example, of being a werewolf. But never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that she would blame him for Tromso Stavenger’s death; and he was so taken aback that he could hardly believe this charge was seriously intended.

‘We see,’ said Ursula, ‘that you make no effort to deny the charge.’

Alfric recovered the use of his voice and said:

‘The man met his end as a hero should. Fighting against Herself.’

‘You got him killed,’ said Ursula.

Her debating style was clumsy; but, for that very reason, it was going to be difficult to deal with. Alfric had honed his speaking abilities in moots conducted by the Bank; and, in such debates, a speaker dropped a line of argument once it had been decisively refuted. Alfric, believing that he had so refuted his aunt’s accusation, was more than irritated to find her staunchly repeating it.

‘We killed the Hag,’ said Alfric.

‘So?’ said Ursula. ‘A dozen men with crossbows could have done as much with less fuss and no deaths whatsoever.’

‘I believe She would not have fallen easily to any hunters,’ said Alfric. ‘Anyway, the matter is closed. She is dead, and there’s an end to it.’

‘The issue is not closed,’ said Ursula. ‘Her death is greatly regr etted, for She was an asset to the state.’ ‘That,’ said Alfric, is the most nonsense I’ve heard in one breath since the day I was bom.’

‘What you fail to understand,’ said Ursula, ‘is that our monsters are assets. Amongst other things, they discourage invasion. You have done much to wreck the reputation of Wen Endex. Lusting for personal gain, you slaughtered the dragon Qa. Poor Kralch you humiliated. You dared the lair of the very vampires themselves and returned unscathed, much to the diminishment of the stature of those valued allies of ours. Finally, you have participated in the murder of Herself. ’

‘She was a killer,’ said Alfric.