Hugh Cook - The Walrus and the Warwolf

Name: Lesser Teeth, a group of low-lying shallow-water islands notorious for shoals and wrecking-reefs.

Language: a Galish dialect.

Population: 15,421 (prior to Wars of Empire).

Religions: self-interest, self-reliance, bloody-mindedness, curiosity and generalized superstition.

Main island: Carawell (aka Mainland).

Havens: Brennan, sole safe anchorage in the Lessers.

Economy: fishing; amber export; scurvy grass.

As autumn drew near, the Greater Teeth were gripped by a regular frenzy of preparation, speculation, rumour and gossip. And wagering. While most pirates were staying home, all had at least a small bet riding on the adventure.

Menator ordered his ambassadors onto the Warwolf, renamed (by order of Himself) the Sky Dancer. Slagger Mulps was deeply relieved not to be risking the Walrus, having lately realized her bottom was badly worm-weakened. But, as a matter of form, he had to rant, rage, spit blood (easy enough to do, since he had been slowly dying of tuberculosis for the last half-dozen years), swear, curse, blaspheme against fifty different gods, and threaten Jon Arabin with instant death.

Of course, even before this, Mulps had been planning to kill the Warwolf. And Jon Arabin had been dreaming up

schemes to do in the Walrus. Honour required no less: both would have felt humiliated if they had gone to sea on the same ship without bringing their rivalry to its natural conclusion.

Murder plans were only reluctantly abandoned when Menator, bowing to pressure from Abousir Belench and several other captains, laid down one further condition: an admiral's flag (and the greed-glutting battle-share that went with it) would not be awarded to either hero unless both returned alive.'My brother,' said Mulps to Arabin.'Heart of my heart,' replied the Warwolf.And they embraced.

Two sistejr ships were chosen for the Sky Dancer: Bluewater Draven's Tusk, and the Jade, run by Abousir Belench.

Departure was then delayed while Arabin laid down a new deck of mahogany, part of a captured cargo alleged to have come from Yestron. None could say how this unfamiliar timber would fare as decking, but Arabin did like to experiment.

Totalling sirings and killings, the Warwolf found he had a reasonable margin of safety. But, as it was most important to keep his bad-tempered gods happy by breeding more than killing, he decided to take some women along so he could stand at stud while voyaging.

Arabin hated doing this. To him, the sea had always been a refuge from the clamouring demands of his monstrously enlarged family. But, with the Teeth committed to imperial conquest, he had no alternative – except becoming a pacifist. Which he wouldn't, since the pay was so poor.

Since Arabin was taking women, he had to arrange whores for the men, or risk mutiny. So they needed more accommodation, food, water – more of everything. Plus a ration of strong drink, as Walrus crewmen would not sail on a dry ship.

Arabin thought taking hard liquor to sea was suicidal.

He remembered his own indulgence in Dog's Breath rum on the voyage to Hexagon (the liquor had come into his possession when he confiscated it from Jez Glane) and shuddered to think what a similar lapse in behaviour might mean in the dangerous waters of the Penvash Channel. Still… he had very little choice about it.

Soon, the Sky Dancer's treasure holds were packed. Stores included extra navigational equipment in the form of ninety-seven pigeons born and bred on the Teeth. Theory held that if one was released, even on a sunless day with cloud-shrouded horizons, it would indicate direction by flying away on a line leading straight back home.Jon Arabin planned to experiment.

Before setting sail, both Walrus and Warwolf made solemn covenants with their men, promising shares in future admirals' spoils to all. This was an incentive to keep them from mutiny on a voyage which promised no plunder.

'Battle-shares are fine,' said Drake. 'But what about ships? Will we get to be captains when you get to be admiral?''You?' said Arabin. 'A captain? Dream on!''I'm ready for the job,' said Drake stoutly.

Whereupon Jon Arabin fell about laughing. Half the crew was still making jokes about Drake's pretensions two days later. Drake did a lot of dark muttering under his breath, and swore he'd show them.

'King on Stokos,' said Drake to Drake. 'That's what I'll be. They'll be impressed then.'

The men he hoped to impress were the best, hand-picked, the creme de la creme, the elite, winnowed from the original crew-lists of Walrus and Warwolf. In practice, this meant the sailors:

all had two legs apiece;

were not hopelessly alcoholic;

were older than 13 and younger than 70; and

were not obviously dying of syphilis or plague.

Even Sully Yot got a place. He and Drake had been forced to work alongside each other on the voyage to and from Hexagon, but still only spoke to each other when forced to, and then only in monosyllables. Their relationship was, to say the least, strained.

If still a fanatical Flame worshipper, Yot would have murdered Drake at the first opportunity, welcoming his own slow death at the hands of Jon Arabin. However, Yot's faith had weakened in long months spent far from the fanatical Gouda Muck.

Drake, whose own religion was more robust – as he had first observed in Androlmarphos, even foreigners worshipped the Demon, if only in deed – was still as devout as ever. Indeed, his greatest sorrow was that he could not fully celebrate the Gift of the Demon, since he could no longer get drunk.

Finally, all preparations were made, and the expedition got underway.

Ah, to be at sea again! At sea on the Sky Dancer, bound for Ork, with Tusk and Jade in company! The tang of salt on lips! The wind brisking the white-capped foam against the gallant flanks of the wooden sea-charger! The nostalgic aroma of tar! The faint yet pervasive smell of vomit, from where some queasy gut has up-chucked over the decks – that in itself bringing back, ah, so many memories!

Not all, of course, was beer and skittles. The joint captains were soon disputing control of navigation. Argument ended when a drift of cloud cleared, proving that the afternoon sun was indeed to larboard, and not to starboard as Mulps (who had somehow got the notion that a squall's confusion had set them sailing south) had claimed.

(Mulps was an erratic navigator at times, and the present phase of the moon had quite upset his navigational faculties, and his sense of direction into the bargain.)

Nevertheless, as the Star Dancer rode the heaving waters into the mists of evening, with the cliffs of the

Greaters now far behind them, it was a happy enough ship.It rapidly became less so.

Slagger Mulps developed a raging toothache that night, and, in the morning, Whale Mike broke the offending molar in half when he tried to extract it with pliers. Towards noon one of Jon Arabin's wives, who had not known she was pregnant, had a miscarriage. Later, it was discovered that the ship's cat had got in amongst the experimental navigational aids, and had spent half the day amusing itself at the expense of those delicate pieces of equipment.

And, toward evening, the weather worsened.

Drake, no longer a kitchen boy but a true sailor who could hand, reef and steer, stood watch like any other. That night he was rostered on with sailors from the Walrus. He was nervous about it – like a lion tamer suddenly put to work with dragons.Nervous with good reason.

For the cold, ruthless Ish Ulpin and the murderous Bucks Cat were amongst those who would be standing watch with him.