Hugh Cook - The Wicked and the Witless

'Ah,' said Elkin, 'doubtless they would have welcomed a maven like yourself to advise them in matters of taste.'

'Are you mocking me?' said Sarazin, the touch of anger in his voice suggesting the final triumph of hunger over wit, of fatigue over tolerance.

'Doubtless he means,' said Jarl, 'that only a fool would stand here talking colours when we've our lives to lose and a world, perhaps, to win.'

With that, he began circling the Tower, looking for a gate. He found nothing, and returned to the others disgruntled. 'Where's the door?' said Jarl. 'Right in front of us,' said Elkin. So Jarl tried the wall with a word: 'Open!' But no door opened.

'Lead friend Heth out of earshot,' said Elkin, 'and I'll attend to this.'

That he did, a single Word of his causing part of the sculptured wall to melt away. Within, red light breathed from dragon mouths in legion, showing them the interior of the Lesser Tower of Castle X-n'dix.

They entered with swords drawn, for they had no idea what they might find within.

X-zox: enclave on western coast of Hok.

X-n'dix: complex built by the Dissidents which dominates the heights separating X-zox from the Willow Vale.

Willow Vale: valley opening on to the southern coast of Hok.

Inside the Lesser Tower the heroes found… silence. Dust. More dragon-mouth lamps. Stairs climbing in tight spirals to the heights. Arrow slits and spyholes invisible from the outside, so cunningly were they hidden among the tower's decorations.

Guided by Elkin, the explorers soon found food: siege dust held in ancient bronze-coloured urns adorned by obscure alphabets and inscrutable hieroglyphics.

'We can live on this forever,' said Elkin, exhibiting this wealth to his comrades.

'Is this a joke?' said Sarazin, dabbing a finger in the fine-ground grey dust then touching that finger to his tongue.

"No joke,' growled Jarl. 'I've heard of this stuff in Rovac. Iron rations for bare-bone survival.'

'We could trade it to the local peasants,' said Heth brightly.

'Oh yes!' said Glambrax, chortling. 'For roast phoenix, baked basilisk, fresh virgins' blood and all.'

'If we offer this in trade,' said Sarazin, 'we'll lose all goodwill in X-zox forever.'

But Heth persisted, so on the morrow the others let him attempt a trade. Miss Inch opposed purchase, claiming the dust had no utility. But she was overruled for once, and the locals, thinking the siege dust to be the ashes of the Time Lords whom they believed had built the local landmarks, willingly bought it for the magical pro- perties they thought it to contain. They paid in food in plenty, and Sarazin started to think rather better of Heth.

That, however, was before Sarazin had tasted the local food, some of which threatened to quell all appetite forever. But at least it kept the adventurers going while they explored the Lesser Tower from top to bottom, always hoping to find treasure, or implements of power which would allow them to master the world.

They found many doors, cupboards and chambers which they could not open. In his dreams, Sarazin broke into them to discover oranges which metamorphosed into dragons, flowers which spoke then romanced him, a sceptre which exulted him into clouds of gold and incense…

A sea-smooth cowrie shell, wet with wave, which warmed to perfume, which licked his nipples erect, which buttered his orchids then twisted itself into a woman… 'Sarazin,' she said, breathing his name…

She was none other than Amantha. And Sarazin there- upon dreamt of amation, of his own flesh deliciously conjoined with Amantha's slick humidity, her grasp persuading him, his blood engorged. On the verge of satisfaction, he woke. 'Shtig,' he said.

Swearing softly, in order not to wake his companions, for it was after midnight and he would not be thanked if he roused them.

Once awake, Sarazin could not get back to sleep. He was hungry. He was bedded down on a grossly uncomfort- able pile of branches. Glambrax was snoring hideously. But what really kept him awake was an uncomfortable awareness of his own predicament. He was alive, true. But, other than that, his situation was disastrous.

He had been defeated by the ogre Tor. Two hundred of his men had mutinied and had doubtless been taken prisoner. By now the rest of his army was probably on its way back to Selzirk – unless it had been destroyed by the ogre. Worse, to get home Sarazin would have to return through the Passage, steal through the Willow Vale and try to sneak across the Eagle Pass without being caught.

A grim state of affairs indeed!

Sarazin was sleepless till dawn. Breakfast did not improve his temper, for a very few days in X-zox had left him thoroughly sick of the local provender. In X-zox the staples were fish, potatoes, and unleavened bread made from flour ground from millet. The luxuries were mutton, sparrows and fricasseed vipers.

Mutton made Sarazin nauseous, sparrows frustrated him with their high bone-to-bite ratio, while snake meat left him with agita, which was once so severe that he misinter- preted acid indigestion as a heart attack. So much for the luxuries. As for the staples…

'As an army commander,' said Sarazin, that morning, 'I have a duty to return to Selzirk to report. Sluggardry ill befits a hero-prince.'

'Save lectures on hero-princes until we meet one,' said Glambrax, thus earning himself a kick. Rubbing his back- side ruefully, he then said: 'Why be in such a hurry to get us all killed? We've a thousand enemies or more between here and safety.' 'He has a point,' said Jarl.

'I think we could get back to the Eagle Pass if we took Heth with us as hostage,' said Sarazin.

'Good thinking!' said Jarl. 'They'll think much better of us in Selzirk if we bring back at least one prisoner.' 'Steady on!' said Heth, in alarm.

The young peasant had no wish whatsoever to be dragged back to that distant alien city, of which he had heard the most ominous rumours imaginable (many of them, let it be added, quite true).

'Sorry,' said Sarazin, "but we don't have much option. We have to get out of here somehow.'

Then leave the way the locals do,' said Heth. They don't know the secret of the Passage, so they must have some way in and out of here, either by land or sea.'

'But will they tell it to us?' said Jarl. 'They constantly disclaim knowledge of any such route, obviously hoping to raise its market value.'

'We can't wait around,' said Sarazin. 'We should leave today. I'm sorry, Heth. I quite like you – but you'll have to come with us.'

'If you let me stay,' said Heth, Til – I’ll swear lifelong loyalty to you. I can't disown my oath to King Tor, but once Tor is dead I'll follow you forever, to death and beyond.'

'What good is that to me?' said Sarazin. 'This ogre is in the prime of life, or so I've heard. By the time he's dead, I might be dead myself – and you too. Anyway, if we don't have you as a hostage we'll never get out of here alive.'

'I can grant you safe conduct,' said Heth. 'As regional commander for the north of the Willow Vale I have the authority. I'd come with you as far as the Eagle Pass. I'd see you safely out of Tor's territory.'

'Tor's territory!' said Sarazin. You've got a cheek! No, you're coming back to Selzirk with us.' Heth drew a deep breath. Then:

'If you take me back to Selzirk I'll tell everything I saw. How your troops mutinied. How you lost all authority. How you-'

You dare!' said Sarazin, on the edge of losing his temper. 'I will!' said Heth, defiantly.

While the two glared at each other, Jarl exchanged glances with Elkin, sucked on his lower lip, then said:

'I think Heth's offer is reasonable. We get out of here alive – if he is to be trusted, which I think he is. You, Sean Sarazin, then have a man bound to your service by an oath, albeit an oath not immediately effective.' 'But now he knows the secrets of X-n'dix!' said Sarazin.