Hugh Cook - The Walrus and the Warwolf

Survivors: Drake Douay (aka Arabin lol Arabin), Sully Yot (the Favoured Disciple), Jon Arabin (the Warwolf), Slagger Mulps (the Walrus), Rolf Thelemite (oathbreaker accursed of Rovac), Jon Disaster (slayer of monsters), Whale Mike (by common agreement, an imbecile just smart enough to put one foot in front of another), Bucks Cat (a husky Talsh-born maroon with a grinning throat-scar speaking his luck), Simp Fiche (a degenerate pervert even by Orfus standards), Ika Thole (harpoon man from the Ebrells), Ish Ulpin (slim, grim gladiator from Chi'ash-lan), Prince Oronoko (who converted to the Flame after travelling with Zanya Kliedervaust to Stokos), Zanya Kliedervaust (who, having survived the journey from Burntos to Drangsturm to the Ebrells to Parengarenga, was martyred in the Great Arena of Dalar ken Halvar in company with Oronoko – fortunately being rescued by Drake Douay before her martyrdom could proceed to its proper conclusion).

Missing in Action: Guest Gulkan (Pretender to the throne of Tameran, enemy of the Witchlord Onosh Gulkan, past companion of Rolf Thelemite).

A day's march. South. Downriver. Grey skies. The threat of further snow – withheld for the moment. Stumbling water. The forests forever. Each survivor nursing aches, bruises, nightmares.

Near day's end, they killed another of the dog-like creatures.

'One of your relatives, Mulps me beauty,' said Jon Arabin, pointing to the creature's startling green eyes.

Drake again remembered the wizard Miphon, who had had eyes of a similar green. The wizard had given advice about love. Yes. Flowers. Poetry. Persistence. Pretty speaking. Daily visits. Sincerity. A diligent wooing. He'd thought it nonsense at the time. But, if he'd followed the pox doctor's advice, maybe he would have had Zanya years ago . . .Evening.Firelight.'Drake,' she said.'That's my name,' he answered.

'Can you explain it?' she said. 'Who are you? Arabin lol Arabin, priest of the Flame, son of Jon Arabin? Or Drake Douay, swordsmith of Stokos?'

'Both,' said Drake, who had talked things over with his putative father during the march, synchronizing a whole raft of mutually supporting lies.'How so?' said Zanya.

'I was,' said Drake, hoping he had the story right. 'I was, you see, born in Ling, on the terror-coast of the Deep South. There my gold-skinned mother bore me to my coal-black father. But, when I were but a boy, an evil slaver by name of Atsimo Andranovory stole me from the cradle. It were on Stokos I ended up. There a family by name of Douay bought me at market, not for profit but from pity. Thus I came to be Douay. Drake they call me, which is a word in Ligin meaning strilk.''Strilk?' said Zanya.

'Aye. Well. You know not that word? Strilk is something you eat, it's a cholo of sorts.' 'A cholo?' said Zanya.

'Well, yes,' said Drake, not knowing how else to render the word 'gourd' in Galish. 'Anyway, it's a fat thing you eat, okay? And a common name on Stokos. Where there's lots of Douays, aye, the place is crawling with them. Many of them Drakes, too, when it comes to that. And a fair few known as Dreldragon Drakedon Douay.'

'How come so many people with the same name?' said Zanya, unable to quell her last suspicion.

'Well, it's to do with taxes, you see,' said Drake. 'They're pretty harsh, as you may have heard when you were living in Cam. That was because King Tor always wanted to build roads and such rubbish, which meant the taxes were always on the upper. Anyway. With a name the same as everyone else, it's easy to escape the taxman. Hence the name.'

'Oh,' said Zanya. 'Then how . . . how are we, as worshippers of the Flame, to know the son of the Demon Hagon when we meet with him?'

'Evil cannot hide from the righteous,' said Drake sententiously. 'Evil speaks loud to the pure. We'll know the Demon-son all right, once we get him in a strangle. But don't expect to find him running around the world under his own true name! Oh no! He'll be far more cunning than that.'

'Yes,' said Zanya. 'Yes, yes, I suppose he will be. So . . .'

'So any person we come across called Dreldragon Drakedon Douay,' said Drake, 'that person, clearly, from the simple process of logic, cannot be the Demon-son. For the Evil One would hide his name far better.''Yes,' said Zanya, with relief.

It all fitted. If her lover had been the Evil One, he would have led his friends in gang rape already. He would not be talking so sweet and soft. And he would have hidden his name far better.

'I'd … I'd like to say thank you for saving my life,' said Zanya, regretting her earlier discourtesies.'My pleasure,' said Drake.

'We've settled who you are,' said Zanya. 'You're the son of Jon Arabin, yet a swordsmith of Stokos also. And a priest of the Flame on occasion. But – do you … do you truly believe in the Flame?''I'm not sure,' said he, giving an honest answer.'But you've been preaching the doctrines of the Flame.'

'I have,' he said. 'But living amongst pirates has. . . it's been fearful hard on occasion. To keep faith, I mean.'

'I understand,' said Zanya softly. 'I've had hard times myself, on the road between Burntos and Dalar ken Halvar. There have been times, indeed, when I thought of Gouda Muck and felt. . . but no, I'll not talk of that.''Please do!' said Drake. 'Feel free!'

So she told him how her own faith had suffered since he saw her last.

'The worst time was after my arrest in Dalar ken Halvar,' said Zanya. 'I was sentenced to death in the arena. I prayed to the Flame – but no help came.'T came!' objected Drake. 'Aye, and fought monsters!'

'Yes,' said Zanya. 'But, somehow . . . somehow you don't seem very holy. Even if you Believe, I. . . somehow I can't credit you as an instrument of the Flame . . .'

They then talked theology for some time.

Later, when Drake went for a piss, Sully Yot came sidling up to him.

'Remember,' said Yot, sotto voce, 'Gouda Muck would have us be pure.'

'Man,' said Drake, 'I'm in no shape to be thinking of fornicating. So don't worry about my purity.'

'You don't fool me!' said Yot. 'I know you've been whispering sweet nothings into that woman's ear!'

'I've been doing no such thing,' said Drake. 'We've been talking about metaphysics, aye, and the Theory of Knowledge, the problem of pain, the nature of free will and the possibility of salvation for those who pray to false gods.'

He spoke the truth. But the truth was so improbable that Yot thought him the veriest liar.

'I know you!' he said. 'You've been talking to her about sex, that's what. Sex all dressed up fancy, probably. Long discussions about the spiritual aspects of physical union.'

Once heard, this could not be forgotten. So when Drake went back to Zanya, he gently steered the conversation around to a discussion of precisely that: the spiritual aspects of physical union. He did it carefully, for he had learnt a few lessons by now.

Later still, when Drake left Zanya's side a second time, Jon Arabin followed him into the undergrowth.'Drake.''Aye?''Did she take our story all right?'

'She swallowed it solid, man,' said Drake. 'She believes I'm your son and a Stokos swordsmith both.'

'Good,' said Arabin. 'That girl's worth having. And she's hot for you. Play it for the thrust, man. You can get there tomorrow, if not tonight.''What the hell do you care either way?' asked Drake.

'I just don't want to see good meat going to waste,' said Arabin. 'And . . . Drake, there's something we have to talk about.''What?'

'Drake, I've never talked religion to you. But now's the time. I know gods, Drake, powerful gods. Aye. They've taken me through to pirate captain though all the world was against me. They're-'

'Demon's balls!' said Drake. 'Can't a man go into the bushes for a quiet shit without half the world's religions chasing after him?'