Hugh Cook - The Walrus and the Warwolf

'Ah. He doesn't know that I know. So you must swear never to betray me to him.'

'I swear,' said Zanya, for curiosity had got the better of her.

'In truth,' said Jon Arabin. 'A truth I swear to on my mother's honour, young Drake is a virgin. He's never been had by a man. And he's never taken boy. or woman in lust. Ah, he'll boast with a swagger, but it's bluster talking. That's a sore hurt to his pride, that he's still a virgin. That's why he . . . why. . .'

'He doesn't really know how to talk to a woman,' said Zanya.

'Right,' said Arabin. 'He's scared, aye, shy and scared. Hence he talks tough and acts rough. To conceal his tenderness, which shames him. To hide his fear. In truth . . . you're a woman, and, though he'll not admit it, he's scared of you.'T see . . .' said Zanya.Not sure whether to believe all this.Jon Arabin and Zanya thereafter sat side by side in silence until Whale Mike had finished his work. He sat down by the fire with a sigh.'This good fire,' he said. 'Fire good friend.'

'Fire is sacred,' said Zanya. 'The Flame is the High God of All Gods.''Oh,' said Mike. 'You think like Drake.''You mean Arabin lol Arabin?' said Zanya.

'Yes,' said Jon Arabin. 'It's my son Mike means when he talks of Drake. But you won't be surprised if he fumbles the names at times.'

'No,' said Zanya, understanding that an obvious imbecile like Whale Mike could be expected to speak error as often as truth.

'Drake okay, whatever you call him,' said Mike amiably.'Does . . . does he worship the Flame?' said Zanya.

'He tell big story in Brennan,' said Mike. 'He say he priest of Flame. I think maybe joke. We drinking back then. But few days ago, Drake talk about Flame. He very serious. Well, Yot do most talking.''Yot?' said Zanya. 'Not the Favoured Disciple?''This Yot,' said Mike. 'He tall guy. Many warts.'

'That's him!' said Zanya. 'Muck's Favoured Disciple! We thought he was dead. What's he been doing? Has he been preaching the Flame?'

'He talk enough,' said Mike. 'Maybe too much. Ish Ulpin, he pissed off, not like to hear god-talk. He say Yot shut up or get eaten.'

'So Yot was with you,' said Zanya. 'And Drake . . . Drake is a priest of the Flame. That's very strange. But what's this business of Drake drinking? A priest of the Flame doesn't drink. Liquor is not pure.''Mike,' said Jon Arabin. 'How about you go hunting?'

'If you want, Jon,' said Mike. 'But I not got weapon. I had nice stick, strong stuff like steel, but that lost in river.'

'Never mind,' said Jon Arabin. 'I'm sure you'll manage.'

Obediently, Whale Mike took himself off into the forest. When he was gone, Jon Arabin told Zanya about how Drake had been cursed, and could never get drunk. How did Jon Arabin know?

The barman who had helped Drake learn about the curse had later told Arabin all about it.

Indeed, while Drake prided himself on having a great many important secrets which nobody knew anything about, he was virtually transparent to Jon Arabin – who, after all, had not become a ship's captain and a leader of men by accident.

'So you see,' concluded Jon Arabin, 'whether liquor is pure or otherwise makes no difference to my son, who drinks what he likes but never gets drunk. Hence has no pleasure in it.'

'Then he should be glad of what he calls a curse,' said Zanya. 'For it makes him pure without effort.''But takes away his free will,' said Jon Arabin.

'Why,' said Zanya, slowly. 'So it does. I can see why that would . . . that might be hard to take, at times . . .'

She sat back, thinking. So her lover, Arabin lol Arabin, was a priest of the Flame. Then why did he sometimes call himself Drake? The son of Hagon bore that ugly name. Surely a priest of the Flame would not call himself that. Unless . . .

T think you're lying,' said Zanya. 'I don't see how a priest of the Flame could live as a pirate. Our angry young hunter – he's Dreldragon Drakedon Douay, isn't he? The son of Hagon! The Evil One! The Demon's son!'

Her voice was hard, strident, rising in fear and anger. But Jon Arabin just laughed. It took some effort to conjure up that laugh, but he managed it all the same.

'Why are you laughing?' said Zanya, fierce and flushed. 'It's true, isn't? Your son is no son of yours but a son of Hagon!'

'Woman,' said Arabin, 'if Sully Yot has survived the Circle of the Door, then likely he'll come down the river and prove out the fact that a priest of the Flame can live as a pirate. Before you say more mad things of my son, what say we wait till we see what survivors come downriver?''And if nobody comes?' said Zanya.

'Then you'll have to do some thinking!' said Arabin. 'There's three of us, one of you. If we were ruthless, would we wait before raping? Nay, woman. If my son were the Evil One, he'd have cock to quim in a moment. But have we not saved you? Sheltered you? Fed you?'

Zanya made no reply.

'You've a mind at least warped in parts,' said Arabin. 'I don't blame you for it, since it's life which makes minds, for the most part. But give thought to that warping. Remember, Whale Mike bore witness. My son has been seeking to make conversions to your Flame. Aye, at risk of his own life.''That. . . that's so,' said Zanya, slowly.

She was starting to feel ashamed of the way she had spoken.

'Woman,' said Arabin, 'perhaps my son uses the name of Drake on occasion, for purposes of survival or otherwise. I know not. Perhaps he calls himself Drake Douay on occasion, or even Dreldragon Drakedon Douay. Well then. Is that so remarkable? A priest of the Flame is pushed to some strange expedients to survive. Remember that.''I will,' said Zanya.

'And remember this,' said Arabin. 'My son is wild, as I've said. But he's hardly a hell-fiend. Nay, he's good, in truth. The core of him is solid. Which is why I love him.'

He stared at Zanya till she dropped her eyes. Then he took her hand and, lightly, gently, kissed it.'Why did you do that?' she said.

'Because I, too, find it hard to resist the allure of your beauty,' answered Jon Arabin, in utter truth.

Much later, Drake returned from the forest. One look at his face told Zanya he had been crying. He held out the spoils of his hunt: some lugs of fungus garnered from a rotten tree.

'This is not much,' he said. 'But it's what I have. It's yours.''Thank you,' she said.

Later, Whale Mike returned by a different route. He was singing a happy song, and with good reason – he had killed two dog-sized fox-fur creatures of the type the expedition had first found when digging for what they thought were gwiffs.

Later still, Jon Disaster came down the river. Alone. He was more than glad to see them.

'And,' he said, with a grin at Zanya, 'it's good to see we've got some hot meat with us.'

'Man,' said Drake, with violence in his voice. 'Watch your tongue.''What did I say wrong?' said Disaster, aggrieved.Drake pointed at the dead dog-creatures.'See that?' he said. 'That's meat.'He pointed at Zanya.

'And that, that's a woman. There's a difference.' Jon Disaster didn't see that there was, but he had enough sense not to argue about it.

Towards evening, snow started to fall, whispering down from a darkening sky. Jon Arabin, Jon Disaster, Whale Mike, Zanya Kliedervaust and Drake Douay built their fire higher. And that fire, seen from afar, brought the last of the stragglers down the river to their position.

The stragglers, Sully Yot and Prince Oronoko amongst them, came in slowly, slow as a bunch of crippled criminals walking to their own hanging dragging a ship's anchor with them as they went and dying of scurvy and roundworm on the way. And when they found not just fire but, as well, meat and shelter, they wept for gratitude and relief.

All spent that night under a single lean-to shelter. Zanya slept wedged between Drake Douay and Jon Arabin. And, while there was but one woman between many men, that made no trouble. Not, at any rate, on the first night.