Hugh Cook - The Wicked and the Witless

Jarl's raiding party left for Jone at nightfall. Sarazin waited anxiously for the raiders to return. He waited for a long time. What could be keeping them?

Sarazin doubted that anything serious could have hap- pened to Jarl, and suspected the Rovac warrior had faked a delay simply to put more pressure on Sean Sarazin.

– He'll play head games till I crack and tell all. Well, let him! For I won't crack!

Jarl knew Sarazin had a secret, but had no idea what it was. And could not possibly guess.

– But what if Douay gets tortured more? What if he tells of the bottle, the ring, the candle? Well, let him. Mention of such means nothing to anyone ignorant of the magic of such things.

Surely everything stolen from Sarazin would eventually be recovered? His prophetic book, his documents and his enchanted objects. It would then be a delicate job to regain possession of his magic without anyone else realising it was magic…

– I'll say those things have sentimental value. That'll do it. If only… if only I could get the truth from Douay myself.

Unfortunately that was impossible. Sarazin could not steal Douay away and torture him for the full truth in private, because Sarazin commanded no men in his own right. He had to work through Jarl. Which, since he was playing a double game, was perilous indeed.

At last, some time after midnight, Sarazin gave up waiting, and went to sleep.

'What do you want?' said Sarazin, groggy with sleep. 'Your mother wants to see you,' said Bizzie. 'Now? Is she crazy?' 'Thodric Jarl has been arrested.' 'What?!' said Sarazin, now very much awake.

Very shortly, he was in his mother's High Court, hearing the dreadful truth.

Thodric Jarl had taken a dozen men on a raiding mis- sion into Jone. They had captured two of Douay's criminal confederates, had put them into sacks, had thrown the sacks onto a dung cart, and had started the return journey from Jone to Santrim. But in Kesh they had been ambushed by some of their captives' gangster friends.

Unfortunately, the gate-tower at Kesh was not controlled by the Watch but by the army. Soldiers had broken up the fight, and had taken Jarl and his men prisoner.

'Shortly,' said Farfalla, with grim satisfaction, 'they will doubtless be tortured by judicial order. Then the truth will come out. All of it.' 'What truth?' said Sarazin.

'Don't play innocent with me!' thundered Farfalla. 'I know you've been playing games of treason and con- spiracy. Plovey knows too. I've called him to a conference. He'll be here soon.' 'Plovey!' said Sarazin.

He looked around wildly. There was no escape. Farfalla's guards would cut him down if he tried to flee.

'Calm down!' said Farfalla. 'I'm not betraying you. I'm trying to save your neck – and Jarl's. So tell me what you know. Everything!'

Sarazin prevaricated, but Farfalla soon had the truth out of him – or at least a part of the truth. He denied taking part in a conspiracy, but admitted that he had had some potentially incriminating documents in his possession. That these documents had been stolen. That one of the thieves, Douay, was a prisoner in Farfalla's palace at this very moment. And that Jarl had gone hunting for Douay's confederates.

In due course, Plovey arrived, and Farfalla went to work. Sarazin learnt a lot that night about negotiations – negotiations of the toughest kind imaginable. Talk was still going on after sunup. In the end, a deal was struck.

As things stood, Plovey was due to go on trial on a charge of forging a warrant, a charge of false arrest and three dozen associated charges relating to assorted technical infringements of the law. If these matters came to court, Plovey would likely be found guilty and be executed.

So: charges against Plovey would be dropped, and, in return, there would be no charges laid against Jarl or any of his men. Farfalla and Plovey, working in concert, could easily arrange this. 'You agree?' said Farfalla to Sarazin.

'There's still the matter of these thieves,' said Sarazin. 'I want them put to the torture.'

'That could be embarrassing,' warned Farfalla, unable to understand why he insisted on taking such a risk. 'We have to do it,' muttered Sarazin.

Unwilling to tell her about his missing magic. But equally unwilling to lose the chance of recovering that magic – whatever the risks! Farfalla was undecided.

'Dearest colleague,' said Plovey, showing no fatigue despite the arduous negotiations they had been through, 'we could easily reach agreement on this matter.' 'What kind of agreement?' said Farfalla.

'To torture all our criminal prisoners without reference to courts of law. This unlawful act would bind us together in criminal conspiracy. Let us agree that the fruits of our crime will remain our private property, not to be disclosed to outsiders.'

Farfalla did not like the idea. It was too dangerous! Who knew what truths might be exposed? And she could not trust Plovey – whatever he said. But…

Sarazin proved adamant, Plovey was persuasive, and, at length, Farfalla finally gave way. Fatigue, for once, had undermined her good judgment.

Plovey promptly arranged for torture to begin. They started with the criminals Jarl had captured, and learnt things so startling that by noon all else had been almost forgotten.

The first men put to the torture were Andranovory and Erhed, a pair of criminals captured by Jarl on his raid into Jone. Not much was needed to get them talking: a couple of jabs from a bodkin and they were talking as fast as they could. And a truly remarkable tale they told.

In spring, they had been living in Estar, in the north of Argan. When Estar had been invaded by the evil emperor Khmar, they had fought valiantly in the defence of the realm. Thanks to help from certain wizards – Phyphor, Garash and Miphon – the forces of evil had been defeated.

Then the wizards had persuaded the men to travel with them to hunt down the evil wizard of Heenmor, who was in possession of a death-stone, a wizard weapon which could turn men to rock and bring rocks to life.

Led by two Rovac warriors – the heroes Elkor Alish and Morgan Hearst – the men had endured wild adven- tures in the interior of Argan. Many of their comrades had been killed by dragons, basilisks or giant scorpions, by battles with two-headed barbarians, or by the dreadful punishments meted out by the Rovac for the most trifling offences.

Finally, Andranovory and his comrades had mutinied. After a savage battle against the wizards and the Rovac, the mutineers had managed to kill the wizard Phyphor, and had made their escape. That had been in early summer.

For some time, Andranovory and his comrades had lingered by the shores of the Araconch Waters, the great lake deep in the heart of Argan. There they had enjoyed the delights of the Temple of Eternal Love where the trees were of gold and the gardens of diamond.

'Many men,' said Andranovory, 'died there of pure delight.'

'Aye,' said Erhed. 'So we who were left fled.' 'How many of you were left alive at that stage?' said Farfalla.

'About four hundred,' said Andranovory. 'But many died on the journey from Araconch to here.'

Then he described the terrors of that journey down the Velvet River through the wilderness, through the Manaray Gorge, through the Chenameg Kingdom, and then at last to Selzirk. If Andranovory was to be believed, they had met with dragons, ghosts, monsters, plague, man-eating plants and worse before they finally reached sanctuary. 'Then what?' said Farfalla.

Many of the surviving mutineers had already left Selzirk. But Andranovory and Erhed provided the names and locations of several who remained. Farfalla and Plovey gave Sean Sarazin the job of hunting down these people and arresting them.