Hugh Cook - The Walrus and the Warwolf

'But,' said the prosecutor, 'this case has nothing to do with sex. It is all to do with the public menace posed by Drake Douay to the religion, government, wealth and law of Selzirk, by reason of the devilish ability he showed in Runcorn, where he overthrew the lawful government and established a reign of terror and of abominable practices.'

'I think, sir,' said Zanya, 'you stand in error. For it was not Drake Douay who did that, but Arabin lol Arabin. They are two entirely different people.'

'You testify so?' said the prosecutor. 'I will have you swear to that by the Flame!'

And Zanya so swore. Yes, swore it in a cool and steady voice, which none could doubt. She had changed since she had walked into that courtroom.

For a start, she had learnt why Drake had abandoned his quest to reclaim her. He had not been roistering with lewd women, as she had imagined: instead, he had been suffering cruel imprisonment for crimes he never committed. And dreaming of his true love while he lay behind bars.

Also, she had been given cause to cast her mind back to the glorious days in Penvash, when her love for Drake had first been kindled by the respect he had shown her and the protection he had given her from lustful pirates.

She had also been made to remember his performance in the arena at Dalar ken Halvar. She had very clear, distinct memories of him killing at least two monsters, single-handedly, and maybe a third as well. And what were the first words he had said to her, as he cut her loose? As she remembered it now, they were:T love you.'

All this gave her cause to make a final decision on her commitment to Goudanism. Effortlessly, she abandoned her belief in the Flame. Her faith had been steadily weakening for a long time now. Indeed, when she had first learnt in Runcorn that Drake was the one accused of being the son of the demon Hagon, at least half her shock had been at the way he had failed to trust her with the knowledge of the accusations.But now…

All was forgiven.

Judge Syrphus refused to hear further argument, but, instead, gave judgment and summed up:

'The case against Drake Douay is of course dismissed. It represents, as any fool can see, an attempt by a dirty old man to remove a sexual rival who is a younger and altogether more attractive man. The Court is satisfied that

Drake Douay is indeed meek, mild and pious, and entirely lacking in political ambition.

'He may have made one mistake in his youth, with respect to a cheap and nasty sword, one of the hundreds owned by Gouda Muck, but what of it? A young man is entitled to one mistake. Since then, he has lived humbly and quietly though he rose to the occasion and performed heroically when that was necessary for him to save his beloved lady.

'Even though I'm having trouble meeting my quota, I'm letting Drake Douay go free, for that is only just.

'Fortunately, Gouda Muck's own testimony shows him to be a dangerous, ambitious, reckless and destructive man. We have heard how he overthrew the rightful religion of Stokos, how he speaks with evil spirits dwelling within furnaces, and indulges in all manner of private perversion under the cloak of religion.

'Consequently, I have no hesitation in ordering that a warrant be issued for the arrest of Gouda Muck, that he may be tried on a charge of being a public menace. And I appoint myself judge of his case!'Thus the trial came to an end.

One of the spectators, who had watched the whole proceedings with interest, was Plovey of the Regency. After the trial, he met Drake and Zanya.

'Darling boy,' said Plovey, to Drake. 'No! Say nothing hasty! We've had hard words between us in the past, I know. But did I not invite you to dine with me and my darling wife if you ever had the occasion?'

'You did,' said Drake, thinking he should really kill Plovey on the spot.

'Today, then,' said Plovey, 'I invite you to do more. I invite you, and your beloved, to enjoy the hospitality of my house. For a day – for fifty days, if need be. For I have always admired you as a remarkable young man. Indeed, I may be able to hold out some prospect of gainful employment for you.'

What kind of employment? Knifework, perhaps. Might pay well. And there would be time enough to murder Plovey later. Revenge – as others have noted – is a dish well worth eating even when cold.'Darling,' said Zanya, 'have we anywhere else to go?'Drake considered, and then:

'It would be a crime,' he said, 'for me to refuse such generous hospitality.'

Plovey had, amongst other things, aroused his curiosity: Drake was keen to learn exactly what kind of proposition the Regency bureaucrat had in mind.

Plovey zar Plovey: a career bureaucrat of the Regency; had a hand in the torture and interrogation of Drake Douay, and in the despatch of Drake to Androlmarphos with letters for Elkor Alish.

By the time Drake and Zanya had finished kissing, Plovey had summoned a cab to take the three of them to Plovey's house, which was in Santrim. They climbed inside; the cabby flicked his whip; with a jingle of bells, the horse began to move; they were off.'We've won,' said Zanya.'So we have,' said Drake.

They had salvaged their love from the wreckage of the past, and had made good their escape from the terrible machinery of the law.Drake and Zanya kissed.Plovey pretended not to notice.

'Friend Drake,' said Plovey, 'would you like to live in Selzirk?''If I could,' said Drake.

'I'm sure you can,' said Plovey. 'A job should be no trouble, no trouble at all.'

He did not elaborate, and Drake did not ask for details. Instead, he held Zanya's hand and watched the passing streets.

'Here we are,' said Plovey, as the cab halted. 'This is my house.'

Plovey paid off the cabby and led them through the gate and onto his own property.

The house was small, yet elegant. It had a small courtyard with a fountain set in the centre of a lily pond. Amidst the lilies swam carp. Some were pure gold, the ultimate in xanthochroism. Others were piebald, while some of the more motley specimens were blotched with as many as half a dozen different colours.

Drake paused and watched the fish swim amidst the cool water. The sun was warm on his back. He was suddenly reminded of a day long, long ago at Ling, when he had sat in a canoe by the side of the Warwolf, watching fish in the limpid waters of Ling Bay. Life had been so simple then! And his hopes had been so high.

He had expected, in those days of his innocence, to make a swift return to Stokos, and, within a couple of years, to make himself a priest or a prince, and acquire Zanya Kliedervaust as his pleasure woman. Instead . . .Well…At least he had Zanya.At least that part of his dream had come true.

He gazed at the fish. It must be so comfortable being a fish. What perfect control. . .'You like fish?' said Plovey.'They're . . . they're all right,' said Drake.

In truth, he felt he could have stood there staring at them all day. How long since he had been free to gaze on something beautiful? For as long as he could remember, he had been living in a nightmare . . .

'Come inside,' said Plovey. 'Darlinda will be waiting for us.''Who's Darlinda?' said Zanya.'Why, my darling wife, of course,' said Plovey.

Inside the house, it was cool. Plovey showed Drake and Zanya the bedroom where they would sleep that night, then he introduced them to his darling wife Darlinda, a petite little thing with a subservient manner and a broken nose.

'Darlinda,' said Plovey, 'get some water and wash the feet of our honoured guests.' This Darlinda did, silently.

While his feet were being washed, Drake closed his eyes. An overwhelming wave of weariness swept over him. At last he had reached a place of comfort, safety and indulgence. At last the nightmare days were over.