Hugh Cook - The Wicked and the Witless

'Which you say he had sworn to take south to the Confederation of Wizards.'

'Elkor Alish had sworn an identical oath,' said Sarazin, 'yet yielded to temptation. I do not think Hearst a greater man. After all, he has already delayed long in the Harvest Plains. Besides, I think my mother has ensnared him in a love-web.'

'So,' said Lord Regan, 'lust and ambition will make Hearst the master of the Harvest Plains. Doubtless his thoughts will soon turn to conquest. When that happens,

I cannot stand against him. Not if he is armed with the death-stone.'

Then Lord Regan explained that he already had a refuge prepared against a day of trouble.

'It is a place in the Ashun Mountains. There I can flee if my world comes to an end. You could go there now, if you chose. Or you could go to Chenameg.' 'Chenameg?' said Sarazin, startled.

'Yes,' said Lord Regan, briskly. 'I have long sponsored a little

… a little trouble in Chenameg. Men fight there against the tyranny of Tarkal of Shin. One of those who stands in opposition to Tarkal is Lod.' 'Lod!' said Sarazin, in amazement. 'So Lod lives!'

'Why does that surprise you?' said Lord Regan. 'Have you ever heard that he was dead? No? Then what did you hear of Lod?'

'That he escaped from Shin when Tarkal sought to execute him,' said Sarazin. Tarkal, rightly thinking himself unsafe, then left Shin himself and set off for the Harvest Plains. Lod harried Tarkal's retreat. Then Tarkal joined up with an army led by my brother Celadon. Together, those two defeated Lod's forces. I know nothing of Lod's fate after that.'

'He came to me,' said Lord Regan. 'He came to me with the remnants of his forces. I gave him what he needed – armour, weapons, military advisers. I saw him established in the hills in the south of Chenameg. Since then, he has ever been a thorn in Tarkal's side.' 'And you would have me join him?' said Sarazin.

'You do as you will,' said Lord Regan. You can go into refuge in the Ashun Mountains or join Lod in Chenameg. But you cannot stay here. Not when Morgan Hearst rules in Selzirk. For, if Hearst learnt that I was sheltering you, he would think my ambition was to set you on the throne of the Harvest Plains.'

Lord Regan paused, then, laying his hand on Sarazin's shoulder, he said: 'It is, of course. It always was. For, as I have told you before, I have long thought of you as my son. But I judge that this is not the moment to try the move.'

There were times in the past when Sean Sarazin had hated Lord Regan. Who had lied to him. Used him. Tricked him. Manipulated him. Fooled him. But, now that he was face to face with the man, Sarazin could not doubt his sincerity. Lord Regan did care for him! Lord Regan did think of him as a son!

And, one day, Lord Regan would put him on the throne of the Harvest Plains. Not just to serve his own ends – but because he truly valued Sean Sarazin. How could Sarazin return such love? He knew how. He knew what would please Lord Regan. So he said:

'My lord, you have given me a choice of flight, refuge or war. I choose war! I will go to Chenameg and there join Lod's fight against Tarkal. Then, in the fulness of time, if another fate presents itself – I will be ready!'

Sean Sarazin set off the very next day with Glambrax and half a dozen soldiers as guards and guides. Lord Regan came to farewell him, and brought him a goodbye present.

'Open it later,' said Lord Regan. 'It's a trifle. A small token of my appreciation.'

Sarazin resisted the temptation to open the present until evening. Then he tore away the wrapping, eager to see what Lord Regan had given him. When he caught sight of a small green bottle, his spirits soared.

Then fell again. It was the wrong bottlel

This gift bottle was made of glass, and held a high-class cologne. Also in the present-package was a brand new razor, a block of perfumed shaving soap and a camel-hair shaving brush.

'I suppose it's the thought that counts,' said Sean Sarazin, trying to persuade himself that that was the case.

Then he spotted one last item: a small note in Lord Regan's handwriting. It said: 'Another surprise awaits you in Chenameg.' What?

Sarazin could hardly wait. He was up at dawn the next day, and had his party on the move the moment breakfast was over. He was more eager than ever to get to the secret guerilla camp in the southern highlands of Chenameg, to meet Lod – and to discover the nature of the surprise.

The guerrillas had their headquarters in an old hunting lodge in the foothills of the mountains which formed the southern border of the Chenameg Kingdom. It was a huge building of black logs. Lod's great-grandfather, who had caused it to be erected, had hunted on a most immodest scale.

Sarazin smelt the lodge before he saw it, because the state of the outdoor latrines left a lot to be desired. Apart from the latrines, he could also smell food – fresh baked bread! – and firesmoke.

When the lodge came in sight, he saw it was washing day. A dozen outdoor fires were burning, heating huge iron cauldrons in which water was warming. Clothes were being washed, and bodies also. Sarazin saw Lod, and hailed him: 'Lod!'

'Friend!' said Lod, in a joyous voice, running towards him. 'So you got here,' said a loud-voiced man. Sarazin knew that voice. 'Jarl!' cried Sarazin. 'What are you doing here?'

'Fighting a war' said Thodric Jarl. 'What else would a Rovac warrior be doing?'

Thodric Jarl was indeed at war. But he was running very little danger, for he was acting as a military adviser, not as a combatant. And he was getting very well paid his pay being banked in Voice with the Monastic Treasury of Inner Adeer. It would be ready for his return and, with luck, it would be enough to finance his retirement.

Jarl had little to say to Sarazin – after all, they had not been parted for very long. But Lod and Sarazin had a great deal to say to each other. Finally, when they had just about talked themselves out, Sarazin said:

"Well, Lord Regan said there was a surprise waiting for me in Chenameg, but I thought it would be something more worth the journey than Thodric Jarl. You don't by chance know the whereabouts of a pretty young wench named Jaluba, do you?'

'No,' said Lod, with a sly grin. 'But I know the surprise Lord Regan was talking of. Thodric Jarl wasn't it. Come this way.'

And Sarazin allowed himself to be led to the back of the hunting lodge. There a man was practising kata with a heavy-bladed sword. He was naked to the waist, and had his back to them. 'Fox!' said Lod.

And the swordsman turned. Sarazin saw his scar – a thick welt slashed across his belly. Saw his face, his astonishment, then – his delight. It was Fox, yes, it really was, his father, not dead at all but here, here, alive and fighting fit, and- Glad to see him!

The next moment, Fox had cast aside his sword and was running towards Sarazin. A moment later, they were embracing. Laughing, weeping, slapping each other on the back. Alive, alive – and exultant.

When Fox told his story, there were no startling revela- tions. Sarazin had last seen his father falling from a roof in Shin, wounded by Sarazin's blade.

As Sarazin now knew, Fox had of course been alive when he hit the ground. He had been the leader of the raggle-taggle mob which had tried to take control of Shin, and his people had taken their wounded com- mander with them when they finally retreated into the wilderness.

Eventually, Fox had linked up with Lod after Lod returned to Chenameg. Fox was now commander of the National Liberation Front currently engaged in the People's Struggle to overthrow the monarchy and establish the Democratic People's Republic of Chenameg. When they finally conquered Chenameg, Fox and Lod would rule jointly. 'Two kings for one nation?' said Sarazin. 'No,' said Fox. 'Two presidents.'