Hugh Cook - The Wicked and the Witless

He looked under the bed, under the blankets, in his travel chest. .. but found nothing. His valuables were gone for real! 'I've been robbed!' exclaimed Sarazin.

Shocked, hurt and alarmed. How could Jaluba do this to him? More importantly – why had she done it? Where had his valuables gone? If she had decided to flee the city and had stolen his bard and his book to sell for cash – why, then there was no harm done.

'I'd not grudge her those trinkets,' said Sarazin bravely, though in fact he already knew he would mourn the loss of his book and bard for years. 'But the documents! What could she want with those?'

Of course, he knew the answer already. He was simply trying to deny his own awareness. But, in the end, that proved impossible. Jaluba must be planning to blackmail him with those documents.

Some were innocuous – maps, official briefing papers and so forth. But on some there had been his own notes. Lists of names. Records of dates, appointments, pass- words, safe houses and so forth. To most people, such cryptic notations would mean nothing. But if they fell into the hands of someone who already suspected con- spiracy – Plovey, for example – they might prove his death. 'Gods!' said Sarazin.

'There are no gods to help you here,' said Plovey zar Plovey, striding into his room.

A dozen thug-faced brutes with truncheons followed close behind. They seized Sarazin and threw him against the nearest wall. 'Hey!' said Sarazin.

One of Plovey's brutes hit him – hard! – in the solar plexus. He expostulated no more, but stood there gasping, fighting the pain.

Meanwhile, Plovey gave calm, crisp orders. Obedient to these, his men shovelled all of Sarazin's remaining books and documents into capacious sacks. Then searched his room. They tore apart his mattress, smashed his furniture, explored the stones of the wall and- 'No!' cried Sarazin in anguish.

For one man had found the loose stone which guarded his magic treasures: his dragon-bottle, his ring of invisi- bility and his eldritch green candle.

'Aha!' said Plovey. 'So there's something in there, is it? What is it, darling boy? What have we found?'

'Nothing, my lord,' said the searcher, who had explored the hole and had found it empty. 'Let me see!' said Plovey.

But there was truly nothing to be found behind the loose stone. Another thief had been there before them.

'This will suffice, then,' said Plovey, kicking one of the sacks. 'I'm sure there's enough within to hang our pretty young friend. Ah yes, hang him – and draw him and quarter him as well. Come! Let's be gone!'

Plovey's men grabbed Sean Sarazin and dragged him from the room. He screamed for help, and help came – but Plovey had a warrant for Sarazin's arrest on a charge of high treason and that warrant was sufficient to repel the would-be rescuers.

Plovey escorted Sarazin to the Regency's headquarters and there a ferocious interrogation began. Plovey's very first question told Sarazin that all was lost: 'Name your fellow conspirators.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Sarazin bravely.

And remained obdurate while the afternoon wore away, while evening darkened to night, while dawn stained the sky with blood. By that time, he was too exhausted to be frightened any longer. Just as well: for Plovey had assumed a truly frightening mien.

You set me up, didn't you, darling boy?' said Plovey, in a voice of snakes and scorpions.

'Set you up?' said Sarazin, bewildered. 'I don't know what you're talking about.' 'You take me for a fool?' said Plovey.

And, giving way to his own anger, Plovey zar Plovey slapped Sarazin. Once. Very hard. But did not hit him again, for at that moment Thodric Jarl burst into the Regency's headquarters. Jarl had twenty men of the Watch at his back – and, more importantly, he had Childermass Imbleprig with him.

Imbleprig had a warrant signed by Judge Syrphus himself, ordering that Sean Sarazin be released by the Regency immediately. Shortly, Sarazin was stumbling through the streets, dazed by the morning sunlight, supported by Jarl.

'We've got him now,' said Jarl savagely. 'We've got him for real now.' 'Who?' said Sarazin. "Who have we got?' 'Plovey!' said Jarl. 'I don't understand,' said Sarazin. 'I thought he had us.'

'No, no, no,' said Jarl. 'He thought you were part of a conspiracy to launch a coup. So he raided your quarters.' 'But I am part of a conspiracy!' protested Sarazin.

'Yes, yes, yes,' said Jarl. 'But he can't prove that. So we've got him for false arrest.' 'But he had a warrant!' said Sarazin.

'It was a forgery,' said Jarl. 'He had to move fast, for his informant told him you were about to burn the Conspiracy Papers and flee the city. So he didn't have time to get a warrant sworn out, so he forged one, so we've got him for that too. Forging a warrant is a capital offence.'

'Say all that again,' said Sarazin, by now completely disorientated. 'Later,' said Jarl. 'Once we're safe in Farfalla's palace.'

Once they were indeed safe in that palace, Jarl went through the whole story again.

For a long time, Jarl had been developing contacts within the Regency. These contacts had warned him of Plovey's impending raid on Sarazin's quarters.

'But I don't understand,' said Sarazin. 'What were these Conspiracy Papers supposed to be? And who told Plovey I was supposed to have them in my possession?'

'We don't know who Plovey's informant was,' said Jarl. 'The Conspiracy Papers are of course that informant's invention. They were alleged to hold all the details of our conspiracy. That's why Plovey took every document he could find from your room. Of course he found nothing suspicious.' 'How do you know that?' said Sarazin.

'If he'd found proof sufficient to have you arrested,' said Jarl, 'you'd be in a dungeon right now, and Plovey would be persuading a judge to validate his forged warrant retrospectively. That's been done before now.' 'So… so Plovey knows nothing.'

Jarl laughed.

'On the contrary,' said Jarl. 'Plovey knows everything. But he can prove nothing! That's the important thing.'

'Jarl,' said Sarazin, slowly, 'there's something you ought to know.' 'What?' said Jarl.

'There were some things… some things that went missing. Before Plovey raided my quarters. There was a book, a bard, and… some documents. I think… Ithink Jaluba's taken them.'

For a moment, Jarl was silent, thinking. Then, his voice grim, he said: 'Tell.'

Sarazin's stolen possessions: the prophetic book telling of his return from exile and his rise to glory; the Lost Bard of Untunchilamon, holding a complete recital of the 'Warsong' and the 'Winesong' by Saba Yavendar himself; a ring of invisibility; a magical green candle; an enchanted bottle holding a dread of dragons; sundry documents, some of which hold potentially incriminating notations by Sean Sarazin.

Sarazin told Jarl most of the truth – but not all of it. He did not mention his magic candle, his dragon bottle or his ring of invisibility. Those things were secret. Only Glambrax knew about them. Sarazin had kept them hidden from Bizzie, from his mother – even from Jaluba.

And he could not tell Thodric Jarl of those implements of power, for they were the surprise he was keeping in reserve. The power he meant to use to win the civil war which would surely be the end result of the conspiracy he was engaged in.

Only those enchanted objects could save him from finally having to resign himself to becoming Lord Regan's pawn. They were the key to his independence, his ambi- tion, his dreams. If Jarl found them he would have to reclaim them – without letting Jarl know what they were. Meanwhile… 'It's the documents which worry me most,' said Jarl. The documents, yes.

Sarazin had been careful. He had never committed to paper anything which could be incriminating in its own right. Nevertheless, the notes which were among his stolen documents might be enough to destroy his conspiracy.