Hugh Cook - The Wordsmiths and the Warguild

"Sit, boy, sit," said the dragon commander, motioning Togura to a chair. "Good. Now tell me what you've been doing with yourself since you left Sung."

"Sung?"

"Your homeland, boy. To be specific, Keep."

"How did you know that?" said Togura, in amazement.

"I met you there. I introduced myself, didn't I?"

"Did you?"

"Of course I did. I distinctly remember giving you my name – Hostaja Torsen Sken-Pitilkin, wizard of Drum. Well, boy? Why are you so blank? Senility, is it? Losing your memory already? And you so young? A tragic case!"

"I really don't think – "

"You don't think! Confession time, is it? I'm sure you don't think. I only hope the condition isn't permanent. What did they call you? Let me think. The girl called you Tog. Yet the rumbustical boy called you Spunk Togura. Or did he call you Chids? Anyway, the man – the man called you Master Togura. That's for certain. That was before he bedded me down in that shacklety old building – a garrow, I think he called it."

"Well…"

"Come on, boy! Surely you remember. There was a dreadful noise. I complained. I remember that distinctly. You called it music – a mistake, I thought, but I didn't object. I was tired. I'd just flown in from Chi'ash-lan."

"Ah!" said Togura, suddenly enlightened. "You were the old man with the bundle of sticks. A great big clutter of sticks like a huge bird's nest. You called it a ship."

"Yes, boy, and if you'd roused yourself from your slumbers in the early morning, you'd have seen me fly away in it. Why didn't you remember my name? I always introduce myself. I did so then. I'm certain of it. Or was that in the morning? Perhaps I introduced myself in the kitchen, when I scavenged the breakfast that nobody thought to offer me. I had a long argument with the cook. She was drunk."

"That would be Salomie," said Togura.

"That's the name! And what are you, boy? Tog, Spunk, Chids? Speak up, boy!"

"Togura Poulaan, if you please. Son of Baron Chan Poulaan."

"Ah so! You're the one they call Barak the Battleman. There's a price on your head. I could use it. What say you give me your head, boy? I'll split the reward with you. Straight down the middle."

Togura blanched.

"Come now, boy," said the wizard of Drum. "Can't you tell when someone's joking? I wouldn't dismember a guest. Come now, don't say you believe all that slander spawned by King Skan Askander? All that nonsense about using people as dragon-chop and such-such? Boy, you're looking quite faint. When did you last eat?"

"I don't remember," said Togura.

"Then sit here quietly and I'll get you something. You're looking as bad as I do after a long trip by air. Relax, boy, relax! You're safe on Drum."

Togura did not feel safe, but he relaxed all the same. In fact, he closed his eyes and went straight off to sleep. The wizard woke him to eat, and, as he ate, his spirits began to revive.

He realised that he had reached a place of refuge.

In the days that followed, Togura gave the wizard a long account of his adventures, which, despite several evasions and a certain amount of exaggeration, was generally truthful. The one big lie in the whole account was Togura's claim that he was dedicated to questing for the index.

"You're very brave," said the wizard.

"It's my duty, sir."

"Don't call me sir, call me Hostaja," said Hostaja Torsen Sken-Pitilkin. "Tell me, what are you being offered for success? Hmmm? Exactly what do the Wordsmiths propose to pay you?"

"One percent of everything won from the odex."

"One percent? That's scandalous. Young man, you've been done! Diddled and cheated! Ten percent is a minimum, that's what I say. You need an agent."

"But I've made an agreement already. It's a little late to change now."

"Not so," said the wizard. "I'll fly to Sung myself, later in the year. I'll have a word with Brother Troop. We'll sort it out."

"What's in it for you, then?"

"Don't worry your head about that. Whatever I get will be from the Wordsmiths, not from you. I'll be adequately remunerated, you can be sure of that."

Togura was no longer a beggarly castaway. Instead, he was a valuable commercial property. The wizard of Drum, who had sworn never to set foot in Sung again – he still had painful memories of a certain game of Stone the Leper and the devaluation of the punt – had changed his mind entirely now that profit beckoned.

Togura had certainly guaranteed his immediate survival. But there was a penalty for his deceit – he must now play the part of a death-dealing questing hero, at least while he was on Drum.

"You should set out in spring," said Hostaja. "I'll take you to Estar myself."

"In spring!" said Togura, alarmed at the prospect of being on Drum for so long. "I'm ready to leave now!"

"You can't leave before we've renegotiated your agreement with the Wordsmiths," said Hostaja. "Risking your neck for one percent? That's lunacy!"

"But, really – "

"I have spoken. You're staying here till spring. That way, I'll be able to teach you something. The young are always over-confident, it's the ruling characteristic of the breed."

"I don't need any training."

"I see. You don't need any training. You know everything, is that it? Well, boy, tell he this – what's the Word you need to open the box which holds the index?"

"That's a secret."

"Fiddlesticks! The truth is, you've forgotten it, if you ever knew. Don't think there's anything secret from me, boy. Do you know the history of the Book of the Odex?"

"Brother Troop found it."

"No! Nonsense! Brother Troop wasn't even born at the time! Troop's father helped find it. There was an expedition to the Old City in the Valley of Forgotten Dreams, in Penvash. There were three survivors. Troop's father was one of them. They brought back the odex and the Book of the Odex. They wer lucky to bring back their own lives, if you ask me."

"Why? What's so terrible about the Old City?"

"Most of the people who have gone there to find out have never come back," said Hostaja. "Some of those unfortunates were wizards far more powerful than me. Consequently, I know better than to investigate. The Melski stay out of the whole valley, and, to my mind, that's the wisest thing to do. Anyway. Tell me. Who translated the Book of the Odex?"

"Brother Troop?" said Togura uncertainly.

"No! No! A thousand times no! It was me! Troop's father brought the book here more than a generation ago. I've laboured heartily since. Ah, but what thanks do I get for it?"

"I think… perhaps Brother Troop did mention your name."

"A passing mention, perhaps! I know those people. They play down my role the best they can. It's the scholarly ego, my boy! A terrible thing, a terrible thing. I tell you – no, I'd better not. There's nothing to be gained from rehearsing these old, old quarrels. Just remember that I know as much about the odex as Brother Troop – no, more! – and what he knows, I taught him."

"I understand, sir."

The Word you need to open the box is Sholabarakosh. You'll know it as well as you know your own name, by the time you leave here. And more, besides. It's death to teach some of the things I've a mind to teach you, but the Confederation of Wizards has sentenced me to death five times already, with no visible effect."

"Why would they do something like that?"

"Internal politics, boy! I can explain it, if you've got a month to spare – but you've got better things to learn. Tell me, boy, what have they taught you about the ancient wizard castle?"

"Well, I've seen this one, so – "

"Boy, this is a pirate castle. It was built by the sea raiders a thousand years ago, when Drum was the center of piracy. Barring my own occupation, it's got nothing to do with wizards. But when you get to Estar you'll find a true power stronghold. Prince Comedo of Estar lives in Castle Vaunting, which was built by wizards. Tell me, boy, how many towers does it have?"