Hugh Cook - The Walrus and the Warwolf

'I'll return, right enough,' said Drake. 'But I'll see both Walrus and Warwolf before setting out. I know your life and death! They may be living by your law, though their bones have rotted away.'

'Indeed,' said Plovey, 'such is possible. For the law specifically states that a person shall not be deemed to be dead merely because they have ceased to exist. However, both Walrus and Warwolf are alive, as the vulgar understand life. And you will see them before setting forth.'

And so Drake did. And a tearful reunion he had with Jon Arabin, who was close to him by now as a father.And this was Plovey's parting advice to Drake:

'Remember, darling boy, if you're not back within ten days, we'll torture Walrus and Warwolf to death. Little as I wish to see your return, I'll hold good to this threat, for I'm a very law-abiding man. I'll supervise the torture personally. Thodric Jarl will help me.'And Drake, despite himself, shuddered.

Velvet River, flows from Araconch Waters through lonely inland desolation, through Chenameg, then into Harvest Plains. Is joined by Shouda Flow at Selzirk. Divides into a delta near the sea, where the port of Androlmarphos prospers from the river-trade.

Rule of Velvet River by dams (all upstream from Selzirk), irrigation schemes, dredging and dyke-building is a major function of the government of the Harvest Plains.

On a day of high summer, Drake Douay was taken out into the streets, where the strenuous noise and the clash of garish colours made him dizzy. He saw a boy playing with a bandalore, which had been quite the fashion in children's toys throughout the winter. Drake mistook the leaping thing for a vicious insect, and looked away, frightened.

The fashion for red-dyed skin was almost dead, though the Kingmaker Farfalla still indulged in it. But Drake did see one red-skinned red-haired woman, styling pink trousers and a matellasse blouse.'Zanya!' he cried, thinking it was her.Then saw it was an utter stranger.

He started to cry. Was ashamed of himself, yet could not help it. Had endured so much. Too much.

At a riverside dock, he boarded a trireme. Down the river they went. Sun too bright. Sky too blue. The riverside fields huge beyond all prison-cell imaginings.

Shocked by the enormous vistas of liberty, he hid his face.

The trireme did not venture all the way to Androl-marphos, for Selzirk would not risk such a valuable craft so close to the enemy-held city. Instead, on reaching the place where the Velvet River began to divide into the many branches of the delta, Drake was put aboard a smaller craft, a galley of but twenty oars.

Some leagues downstream, Drake glimpsed a familiar sight: a pyramid some two thousand years old, built by a wizard of Ebber who had once lorded it as emperor of the Harvest Plains. That pyramid stood on the dusty plains within sight of Androlmarphos, and Drake had seen it often enough in the days he had spent as a galley-slave. That had been years ago, when he was a mere boy of sixteen. And how old was he now? Why, twenty. Young, yes, with all of manhood in front of him.

Irresistibly, his spirits began to rise. Pirates were in Androlmarphos? Why, then, he'd meet with old comrades, surely. Jon Disaster, aye. Ika Thole, maybe, or Abousir Belench, or some of his shipmates from his voyage from Narba to the Teeth on the good ship Jade. Then the galley pulled in to the bank.'Get off,' said the galley captain.

'What?' said Drake, alarmed, imagining he was in for an impromptu riverside execution.'Off!'

'But we're leagues from the city yet.' 'That's why we haven't cut your legs off. Come on, out!'

Reluctantly, Drake went ashore, and the galley turned around and, oars keeping to a regular rhythm, began to make its way upstream. Back to Selzirk. Well. He had life and freedom still. But a long hard walk ahead of him. He was still weak from imprisonment.

But I'll work on that, man. Sword, that's the way. Work rigorous daily.

Drake, thirsty, drank from the dirty brown water of the river. He deserved to die for such foolishness, but the wisdom of Ling preserved him, for the myriad genetically tailored worms infesting his body kept him safe from every toxin and zyme.'March,' said Drake to Drake.And set out for Androlmarphos.

A long, slow journey he had of it, with the sun scalding his prison pallor, and his prison-soft feet slowly going into blisters. At the city gate, he found a rabble of armed men drinking, gambling, bartering and gossiping. One stirred himself to confront Drake, asking: 'Sen fedda nanishV 'Speak you the Tongue?' said Drake.

T have the Galish. Who are you, to risk yourself at Lord Menator's gate?'

T be Lord Menator's loyal servant,' said Drake, 'and require audience with him immediately.'

'Then that you will have, for Lord Menator requires any wanderers to be brought before him immediately. He wants no spy, assassin or alien arsonist to run loose in his imperial capital.'

Thus Drake was taken in charge and led through the streets of Androlmarphos to Menator's headquarters. He began – far too late! – to worry. He remembered that Menator had put a price on his head. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner?

Why, man, because this torture and stuff has left me but half of a brain.

He hoped he pulled himself together, fast. But Androlmarphos seemed scarcely the right city in which to convalesce. Drake was not fussy and fancy, but, nevertheless, the streets of 'Marphos appalled him with their noise, filth, stench and gross over-crowding.

Stinks worse than Selzirk's dungeons. And that's something!

The city was but a league from north to south; its tottering tenements had always been crowded, and now were packed beyond endurance. The harbour was choked with ships; other vessels were anchored in nearby Lake

Ouija, while some shifted as best they could in river estuaries. 'Marphos, holding its usual residents, additional hostages seized from the hinterland, pirates, mercenaries of all descriptions, renegade soldiers from the Harvest Plains and horses by the thousands besides, was a quartermaster's nightmare.

But Menator's my nightmare true, that's for real. Hates me, doesn't he? Jealous of luck and talent, I suppose.

Drake urged himself to courage. Surely, under the circumstances, Lord Menator would not be vindictive. The rose-tattooed man, flushed with victory, would surely be magnanimous.

Much will depend on how I speak. And speaking's my best, isn't it? Yes.

Drake told himself that, once he got an audience with Menator, he would surely get permission to meet with Elkor Alish. Surely Alish would give him the proofs he needed to secure the release of both the Warwolf and his blood-brother Walrus.

Drake imagined how they would gratulate him. Jon Arabin would laugh out hearty, slap him on the back and call him a man, yes. The Walrus would scowl, swear, then mutter something grudging in acknowledgement.

'Heigh ho,' said Drake to Drake. 'It's great to be a hero!'

Shortly, he was ushered into the presence of Menator, who, after making himself lord of all the pirates, had leagued with Elkor Alish to seize Androlmarphos. Menator was sitting in state like an emperor. But, seated on a throne of equal height, was a graceful, lyncean, lordly man, Elkor Alish himself. These two – so far -were ruling as equals.

'Drake Douay,' said Menator, caressing Drake's name in a way which reminded Drake of Plovey of the Regency. 'Drake Douay, beloved of King Tor. What brings you here?''A mission of life and death,' said Drake.'You think to threaten me on behalf of Selzirk, then.'

'You won those words from the air,' said Drake. 'You judge me wrong.'

'Iknowyouof old,' saidMenator. 'I passed judgment on you long ago.'