Hugh Cook: The Wordsmiths and the Warguild

He had to get away.

He had to get out of here. And off the island. He would have to ask Draven to help him. But Draven would be after his blood if he came back without the death-stone. And the rings. And the bottles.

Togura looked around, desperately. He saw a small bottle decorated with green glaze. That must be one of the magic bottles which people spoke about – bottles in which an army could hide. Now – the rings. He looked at Alish's hands. Finding one ring only. Where was the other one? Where was the red bottle? And where was the death-stone?

He searched, swiftly, but did not find what he sought. One ring, then. He took it off Alish's hand, with difficulty, for it was a tight fit. A ring and a bottle. How was he going to get them out of here?

He stuffed the bottle under his clothing, but it made an obscene, bulbous lump. There was no way to crush it down so it would lie flat and inconspicuous. In the end he hid it under his clohtes, but jammed up into his armpit. That was where it was least conspicuous, though he had to keep an arm in close to his body to hold it in place. Now – the ring. Simple! He popped it into his mouth for safe keeping.

Then left, harp in hand, bottle under arm.

From the inner chamber he went to the outer chamber, and from the outer chamber he went to the tunnel beyond. There, the guards grabbed him. He was so startled that he swallowed the ring.

One of the Rovac guards, speaking incomprehensible foreign words, asked him something.

"Do you want me to explain myself all over again?" said Togura, catching the note of interrogation in the man's words. "Well, the long and the short of it is that I've raided Elkor Alish's quarters. I've taken a bash at his resident sex toy. I've smashed the man himself – he'll possibly die tonight. I've taken his green bottle, which is this goiterous lump under my arm which I hope none of you are looking at. And I've just swallowed the magic ring which commands that bottle. That was your fault. You startled me. Now let me go!"

And he pulled himself free.

One of the guards grunted, and gave him a kic, and he set off down the tunnel at a sedate walk.

Draven met him.

"Did you get the goodies?"

"One bottle only," said Togura. "No death-stone. No rings."

"Did you search his clothing? His bedding?"

"No, but – "

"Fool! He'll have them in bed with him, or next to his skin. Give me that bottle! Give it! That's better. Now go back for the rest. Now! This instant!"

"But – "

"No buts, or my slice will unsplice you. Back! Back!"

Togura took a few hesitant steps back the way he had come. Then he heard shouts of anger, rage and alarm coming from the direction of Alish's chamber.

"Draven," he said, "I think we're in trouble."

And they fled.

Draven and Togura escaped from the wrath of the Rovac by putting to sea in a dinghy. They didn't go far. Dawn found them in a sheltered cliff-walled inlet.

"Strip!" said Draven.

"What?"

"Take your clothes off."

"Are you mad?"

"Do what I say!"

Togura, reluctantly, obeyed. Draven searched him and his clothes minutely.

"So you haven't got it," said Draven, disappointed.

"I haven't got what?"

"The death-stone. What else? You let me down, you useless heap of turdshit. You failed me. After all I've done for you! We could have ruled the universe. I should cut you up for sharkmeat!"

Draven, angry, thwarted and vengeful, seemed to be working himself up to a killing rage. Togura, eager to make amends for his failings, almost blurted out the truth about the missing ring to command the green bottle. Then restrained himself, suspecting that Draven might cut to his gut to be sure of getting his hands on it. As Draven drew his knife, Togura cried:

"It's the dralkosh! Yen Olass Ampadara! The evil one! She's making you do this! You're still under her spell!"

"What?" said Draven, amazed.

"Yes," said Togura, desperately. "You told me all about her. She killed you. She chopped you up. She resurrected you."

"Oh… that," said Draven.

The pirate was, for some reason, suddenly acutely embarrassed. All the rant and rage drained out of him; looking rather shamefaced, he sheathed his knife.

"Get dressed," said Draven, speaking roughly, as if harsh words could dispell his embarrassment. Then, in a more conciliatory tone: "I was wrong to draw on you. That was my failing. You were right to remind me of the Ampadara woman. But speak no more of it – the subject is painful."

"I'll never mention it again," said Togura, dressing.

Conjuring with the name of Ampadara had been a desperate ploy. It had worked. So there really had been a woman in Tameran by the name of Ampadara, who had had dealings with Draven. Togura was starting to suspect that the history of Draven and Ampadara was not quite as the pirate had told it, but he also suspected that he would never be sure of the truth, and that the matter of Ampadara would be an unsolved mystery for as long as he lived – which, if the Rovac caught him, would not be long.

By this time, the sinking caves had uncovered a fraction of a deep-tunnelling cave. Draven pointed to it.

"That's where we're going to hide."

"In there?"

"That's what I said."

"Well… hadn't we better wait for the water to go down a bit more?"

"This is as low as it gets."

It was impossible to row into the cave, for the edges of the rock almost scraped the edges of the dinghy. Togura and Draven had to lie flat on their backs in the oar-boat, and walk it into the cave, bracing against the roof with their boots.

Within, the cave opened up into a vast chasm, half water, half air. Flaws in the rock above pierced upward to the sky, but the wan light which filtered through those flaws was scarcely as strong as sunlight.

"My father found this cave," said Draven. "He never told a soul, save me and my brothers."

"What if your brothers betray you?"

"One drowned when diving for gaplax. One fell off a cliff. One died of the plague in the year of two comets. One's a slave in Chi'ash-lan – if he's alive at all. One's the king of Chenameg, or used to be. One went trading east of Ashmolea – for all I know, he's in Yestron. There's none to betray us."

"So we're safe then."

"For the moment."

The moment steadily lengthened. They camped on a rock ledge above water level. They drank from a slow-dripping seepage filtering through the rocks, but they had no food. Togura whiled away the darkness by playing his triple-harp, softly, softly.

And waited.

He was constipated. He remembered his father, Baron Chan Poulaan, quoting a common little maxim on the subject:

"If you don't eat you don't shit, and if you don't shit you die!"

However, on the third day, when Draven was sleeping, Togura obtained relief. Prospecting for treasure he found it; he cleaned the ring then hid it away in the toe of his left boot. By now, having listened to Draven lamenting his loss often enough, Togura knew how to use the ring. He only had to put it on his finger, and turn it, and he would be inside the green bottle which he had stolen from Elkor Alish.

Togura was tempted to experiment, but did not. Though he was very, very hungry by now, and knew there might well be food inside the green bottle, his priorities were simple: Safety first.

They waited in hiding for three days, then slipped back to an unsuspecting harbour and stole food, some barrels of water and a two-masted sealing boat.

As they toiled north in the open sealing-boat, Togura learnt more about sailing than he'd ever wanted to know. He learnt under the worst possible conditions. The boat was too big for two men to handle easily. It leaked. The seas were rough. It rained. An autumn storm beat them about like milk in a butter-churn. They lost their water-barrles overboard. They ran out of food.