Hugh Cook - The Wicked and the Witless

His social circle was very small. Bizzie attended him constantly, and his dwarf Glambrax was always under- foot. His mother saw him daily. Jarl and Elkin dropped by now and then. His half-brother Benthorn paid him the occasional social visit, and offered to sell him sundry treasures which he could not possibly afford to buy.

Apart from that, he saw nobody.

Glambrax twice smuggled in notes from Jaluba. So Sarazin knew his delectable whore was still in Selzirk, still working for Madam Sosostris. But Sarazin had money and appetite for neither fortune telling nor woman- chasing.

Plovey zar Plovey visited him once. The spokesman for the Regency was happy to find Sarazin subdued, depressed and – without a doubt – tamed. Plovey had not suc- ceeded in encompassing Sarazin's death as he had planned but was, nonetheless, happy with the way things had turned out. Sarazin, it seemed, was going to live out his life as an obedient, apolitical soldier, just like his three brothers.

Occasional word reached Sarazin of the doings of those brothers. Celadon was still in Shin, while Peguero and Jarnel were still campaigning against bandits.

As for the other people in his life, Tarkal – now King Tarkal – ruled the Chenameg Kingdom. Amantha still dwelt in Shin. There was no word of Lod, who was generally believed to be dead.

As summer approached, Sarazin was at last allowed to get up and about. His recovery thereafter was rapid, so the army surgeons shortly pronounced him once more fit enough for war. Before very long, he was back at the Voat Library, again seeking advice from his elderly tutor, Epelthin Elkin. 'What is the army doing to you this time?' said Elkin.

They're sending me to Hok,' said Sarazin. 'There's a marauding ogre on the loose in the province with a gang of bandits.'

What do you want from me?' said Elkin. "More tactical advice?'

"No!' said Sarazin. 'I want you to get me out of this mess! It's intolerable! Unless you can help me, I'll spend the rest of my life chasing round the provinces after assorted dog- rapists and delinquent lawyer's clerks.' 'So what can I do?' said Elkin.

'Get me out of it!' said Sarazin. You can change minds.'

'One at a time,' said Elkin, 'and with great effort. But minds do not stay changed.'

You can't – can't you change people's minds so they stay changed?'

"You can't make bricks out of jellyfish,' said Elkin, shaking his head.

'Then – would it change matters if I killed some- one? Just one or two people? Plovey of the Regency, perhaps?' 'I don't understand,' said Elkin.

'What I mean,' said Sarazin, 'is simply this: can I win rule of the Harvest Plains by a couple of murders? Killing off key people, I mean.'

You're not up against individuals,' said Elkin. You're up against a social dynamic. Kill Plovey tonight and the Regency will have another spokesman talking the same by tomorrow. You are not struggling with men but with an organisation. Unless all its members are killed at once, the Regency is immortal.' 'So I'm doomed,' said Sarazin woefully.

'Ease up on the self-pity I' said Elkin. You're doomed to go to Hok, but that's no big deal. After all, I'll be going to Hok myself.' You?' said Sarazin. 'I am being blackmailed,' said Elkin, quietly. 'Blackmailed?'

You know very well who I am and what I am,' said Elkin. You know all Selzirk would turn against me if it was known that I was a wizard of Ebber.'

'Very well!' said Sarazin. 'Kill your blackmailers! I'm sure you have the power. I well remember what you did to me.'

'Ah,' said Elkin, "but you are but one person. Those who now contend against me are many. This is an underworld conspiracy I'm up against. The gangsters concerned are four score in number – far more than I could handle at once.'

You underestimate yourself,' said Sarazin, 'Why, you nearly killed me when I… when I tried to force your will for my benefit.'

'But you were close,' said Elkin. 'It is easy to control people who are close. As distance increases, so does the problem of control. I cannot get all four score of my enemies under one roof to control them.'

'Then turn one against the others,' said Sarazin. 'Make one a weapon of murder.' ‘I cannot do that,' said Elkin.

'But you made me ride to Smork to attack Tarkal!' said Sarazin.

'Nonsense!' said Elkin. You wanted to go. You demanded to go! Against my best advice you insisted on going.' 'True,' conceded Sarazin.

'It was very minor magic I worked that night,' said Elkin. You expected to go. So I only had to give you the illusion that you were doing what you had chosen to do.'

'But,' objected Sarazin, 'Fox came along with us. You persuaded Fox to the mission to Smork.'

'No!' said Elkin. 'I did no such thing. You yourself did the persuading when Benthorn wanted to kill his father Fox.'

'So I did,' conceded Sarazin. 'But – you had to create the illusion of my presence in the minds of all the people there.'

'Easy!' said Elkin. 'It was night, so I conjured you in their minds simply as a voice and a shadow. Both shadows and voices are trivial illusions. Fox sought to grapple with you. If he had grabbed you – why, I could not have conjured the flesh. He would have found himself holding smoke.'

'It was, still, a powerful illusion,' said Sarazin. 'For, while I lay insensible in Selzirk, my experience was that I rode with Benthorn and the others to Smork.'

'Ah!' said Elkin. 'But remember what happened before I launched you into the illusion!'

' I had that funny turn,' said Sarazin. I feared… I feared the epilepsy.'

Yes,' said Elkin. 'A standard trick of the wizards of Ebber! Before launching someone into a world of illusions, give them cause to think themselves very sick indeed. Then they will read any flaw in the illusion as a symptom of their sickness.' 'Cunning!' said Sarazin.

'Necessary,' said Elkin, 'for this magic is exhausting to exercise and limited in its effects. You see, the night of the raid on Smork I never made you see or do any- thing contrary to your expectations. Nor did I tamper with your will. You acted that night of your own free will.' 'I see,' said Sarazin.

'So,' said Elkin, 'I cannot oppose an extensive criminal conspiracy with magic. I could not make one criminal murder his fellows. At best, I could kill a few of them – but then the survivors would betray me promptly. So I have a choice: to stay here and be blackmailed or to come with you to Hok.' 'Why not go to Drangsturm?' said Sarazin. The southern sun is too hot for my liking,' said Elkin. 'Really!' said Sarazin.

'Well,' said Elkin, 'if you must know, I have political enemies in the Confederation of Wizards. I cannot return to the Confederation's castles at Drangsturm because those enemies would prove my death. I am an outcast. A pariah. An exile.' 'But what will you find in Hok?' said Sarazin.

The most valuable commodity in all the world,' said Elkin. 'Time! Time to plan my next move. Whatever that might be.'

Tor: a ferocious blood-drinking ogre whose brutal rule made Stokos a sink of iniquity, its coarse, licentious society characterised by devil worship, lawless debauchery, feuding torture and death.

Then Salvation arrived. A religion arose to free Stokos from the ogre's cruel oppression. Guided by notions of purity, chastity, Universal Benevolence and other High Thoughts equally as beautiful, the priests of the Flame overthrew Tor, and now are leading Stokos towards a radiant future under the guidance of Gouda Muck.

Unfortunately, the ogre Tor refuses to die. He dwells as a bandit in Hok, a mountainous province of the Harvest Plains just a few sea-leagues from Stokos. Moreover, he does not live quietly, but proves his unprincipled depravity by sending kamikaze squads to infiltrate Stokos, subjecting the nascent Utopia to the worst kinds of ter- rorist outrage: arson, kidnapping and assassination.