Hugh Cook - The Wicked and the Witless

When this was revealed, rumour ran rife in Selzirk, and the city was soon close to panic. There were reports that Tor had invaded with half a hundred legions of ores, ogres, trolls and mutants under his command, that Elkin marched with him and was rousing the dead from their graves to join the war, that the slaves had revolted, that the anar- chists of Tyte were marching from their swamplands to join the carnage.

Many worthy citizens fled the city.

Then, to the great relief of those who remained, Sean Sarazin returned at the head of his army with news of a great victory. He had defeated the evil wizard Elkin, had chopped off the wizard's head, and brought that head with him now as a trophy. His men had dealt Tor's army a devastating blow. The ogre himself was said to have been wounded in battle – perhaps fatally. The streets rang with cheers for Sean Sarazin.

Watashi!' screamed the mob, shouting his battle-name. 'Wa-wa-Watashi!'

He was famous. A popular hero who had won a victory worthy of the greatest warriors of legend. Jarl and Glambrax recounted time and time again the bloody details of the death of the evil wizard Epelthin Elkin. His men told of their successes in battle in every tavern in Selzirk.

Even Farfalla was impressed by her son's triumph. And Plovey zar Plovey, spokesman for the Regency, was – though he maintained his composure – severely shaken. He had not known Sean Sarazin had it in him. The young man was more dangerous than he had thought!

At first, Sarazin was content to glory in his triumph, to attend banquets as the guest of honour, to make speeches, to ride in parades, to review troops, to lecture his fellow officers on the problems of doing battle with a master of the Dark Arts, to lay his hands on the sick, and to bed certain female fans who longed for the lips of a hero.

Perhaps the most satisfying sign of his new status was that his mother and Thodric Jarl allowed him to keep his blade of firelight steel with him always. They no longer feared he would sell it to cover his expenses. Indeed, he had no temptation to make such a sale, for some grateful merchants had clubbed together to present their city's saviour with a gift of a considerable sum of money. However… What nagged at Sarazin constantly was his knowledge that this gigantic fraud had been organised long in advance without any reference to him whatsoever.

Elkin, who had documented his 'plans' in elaborate detail, must have been in on it from the start. And Jarl likewise. And Glambrax? Not necessarily, but quite pos- sibly! And, since someone had tipped off the Watch, thus prompting the raid on the Voat Library, the conspiracy must own at least one other person.

Sarazin positively boggled when he saw how neatly he had been manipulated. Military misadventure had made the diversion to X-zox perfectly natural, but Jarl and Elkin must have planned to go there anyway. And what was next on their agenda?

Finally, thinking he had better find out, Sarazin summoned Jarl to his quarters. They sat themselves down on opposite sides of a large wooden table covered with maps and documents, then Sarazin began. First he stated the obvious: that the outcome of their mission to Hok had been finalised before he ever left Selzirk.

'That,' said Sarazin, 'was why you never took much interest in whether we defeated Tor or not. It scarcely mattered either way. I'd be a hero as long as I got back to Selzirk alive.' 'Right,' said Jarl.

'But what I want to know is this,' said Sarazin. What does Elkin get out of it?'

'The deal is,' said Jarl, 'that once you've made yourself master of the Harvest Plains, Elkin will get to rule Hok.'

You mean to make me ruler of the Harvest Plains?' said Sarazin in amazement. 'Isn't that what you want?' said Jarl.

Yes, but – but for a start, what gives you and Elkin the right to decide who gets Hok?'

'It's but a small payment for a big sacrifice,' said Jarl. 'The old scholar had to leave all the comforts of home to arrange this for you. Do you grudge him the rule of some rocks and wilderness? He's an old man. He can't have long to live.'

Wrong! Sarazin knew that Elkin, as a wizard, might live for thousands of years yet. Furthermore, Elkin's story about having to leave Selzirk on account of black- mail might well be true. Whatever his precise motives, the wizard had undoubtedly acted entirely in his own interests.

'Leaving aside the fate of Hok,' said Sarazin, 'what gives you the right to arrange all this without consulting me?'

'It's what you want, isn't it?' said Jarl. 'First we make you a hero. We make you popular. Then we make you ruler. Men are ready to obey you if you are ready to be obeyed.' 'What men?' said Sarazin.

'Before I tell you that,' said Jarl, 'you must agree to go along with our plans.'

You can't use me like this!' said Sarazin, his voice rising almost to a shout. I'm not – not a puppet, a doll. I'm not a child. What gives you the right to run my life?'

'It's not me who is running your life,' said Jarl. 'It's Lord Regan.'

Sarazin was so startled by this claim he thought he must have misheard. 'Lord Regan?' he said. What are you?' said Jarl. 'Some kind of echo?' 'But what's Lord Regan got to do with it?' said Sarazin.

'Everything,' said Jarl. 'He planned to make you ruler of the Harvest Plains right from the very start. Right from when you first came to Voice when aged – what was it? Four? Five?'

'Four, I think,' said Sarazin, automatically. Then, recovering himself: 'I can't believe this.'

'Lord Regan raised you, didn't he?' said Jarl, with mani- fest impatience. Who made you think yourself a prince? Was it me? Was it Elkin? No – it was Regan himself.' 'Because he thought of me as his son,' said Sarazin.

"No. Not his son. A weapon. A weapon with which to conquer Selzirk.'

'What are you trying to say?' said Sarazin. 'Lord Regan never meant to send me to Selzirk. He thought of me as his son. It was only political pressure which made him expel me from Voice.'

'What political pressure?' demanded Jarl. 'There never was any such pressure! Lord Regan is an absolute ruler. Nobody opposes his wish. You came to Selzirk because this is where he wanted you.'

'But – but if – but why did he never tell me what he wanted?' 'He did.' 'Not so!' cried Sarazin.

'Lord Regan told you exactly what he wanted,' said Jarl, his voice a hammer. 'What's more, you did as you were told.'

You're mad!' said Sarazin, alarmed. Was Jarl insane? Quite possibly! 'I was never told anything. Least of all by Lord Regan.'

You were told you must make yourself great through war then set yourself up as ruler in Selzirk. It was all written down in the book of prophecy the Sosostris woman showed you. That was Lord Regan's message to you.'

Sarazin was so surprised he almost stopped breathing. He protested. Faintly. 'But… but…'

He was dizzy. Disorientated. How could this be true? He gripped the edges of the table, hard, as if trying to keep in touch with reality. He felt like a man who has just been turned into a woman. Like a dog which suddenly realises it is really a cat. His entire worldview had been turned upside down. It was too much to take. It couldn't be true! Sarazin took a deep breath then said:

'Are you trying to tell me that the book of prophecy was forged at Lord Regan's behest?'

'No, no,' said Jarl. The book was centuries old. There's heaps of such rubbish available if you know where to look.

That particular text suited Lord Regan's purposes so he made sure you got your hands on it.'

'Impossible,' said Sarazin. 'For a start, it implies Sosostris was in league with Lord Regan – and maybe Madam Ix too. But that can't be true. Sosostris set me up. She sold me to that Turbothot woman, that old slag who hauled me into her bed then had me arrested for debauching her. That almost cost me my life!'