Name: Menator.
Birthplace: by the side of the Salt Road some seven leagues north of the Castle of Controlling Power.
Occupation: adventurer (and, previously, Galish merchant, horse thief, outlaw, and joint ruler of the kingdom of Talajar).
Status: warlord.
Description: a man as bald as Jon Arabin, nose broken, blue rose tattooed on left cheek.
Drake was sure Slagger Mulps would be too smart to want anything to do with a useless piece of wart-faced filth like Sully Yot. But, to Drake's disgust, Yot was aboard the Walrus when it set off on a raiding expedition the very next day.
He won't last, though. No. The first time he has to fight it out for real, blade against blade, he'll run screaming. Aye. This first voyage should finish him for piracy.
However, three days later the Walrus returned after a bloodless victory. Off the coast of Chorst, Slagger Mulps and his men had caught a trading ship. Rather than stand and fight, the crew of their quarry had set fire to their vessel and had then abandoned ship, making for the nearby shore.
Every man from the Walrus swore they had rescued treasure from the burning ship. As they did no extra
boozing, gambling or whoring, Drake guessed they were bluffing – but he had no way to prove it.After a two-day rest, the Walrus set sail again.One more chance for Yot to get himself killed, then.
But Drake could not help envying Yot. He was sick and tired of the Teeth, bored with fishing, sealing, and the routines of gambling. He found himself longing to be at sea again. Which was perverse, surely, for the sea was big and wet, cold and unfriendly, daunting and merciless.
But there's companionship there. Aye. The ship's life's one life shared. Yes.
How long would it be before Jon Arabin took them to sea again?
Ten days after midwinter's day in Khmar 18 – that is, soon after Drake learnt of his place in the demonology of Goudanism – Jon Arabin called a crew-conference.
A number of Arabin's wives were pregnant, so he could face the prospect of more murder with equanimity. With the Warwolf properly overhauled, he was ready to try an audacious plan formulated during his long and bitter captivity in Lorp: to raid Cam, in Stokos, and sack the Orsay Bank.
'It's far,' complained the faint-hearted. 'And it's winter.'
'For sure it's far,' said Arabin. 'But Narba is further, let alone Ling. You've all at least been to Narba. As to the season, why, winter means they won't be expecting us. Anyway, it'll be warm enough down in Stokos.'
Drake was enlisted to draw maps of Cam, and help model the harbour for the inspection of Arabin's officers.
'We'll come as a merchant ship,' said Arabin. 'We'll fly the flag of Chi'ash-lan. We'll have silk on our backs, sheep on the deck, and a bare-breasted woman as figurehead. By night we'll raid the bank. Quick, aye, in and out. Meanwhile, our fire parties set flames amidst the city. Thus chaos while we retreat.'
It was a cunning plan, yet simple. And extremely dangerous – which was part of the reason why Drake had mixed feelings about the operation.
Previously, a voyage to Cam would have meant an ideal opportunity to escape. But flight to Stokos was now the last thing on his mind. Gouda Muck would have him skinned alive then burnt at the stake – or worse.
He would love to see Stokos again, if only for a day. But should he raid his own people? Even if madness had made them flame worshippers, they were still the true blood of Stokos, the meanest wight amongst them worth more than any ten uitlanders.
'Troubled?' said Arabin, sensing his confusion. 'Worries about killing your own, is it? Well, I'll give you a choice on this venture. Will you come, or not?''I'll think about it,' said Drake.And think he did.
The Walrus returned to Knock after a successful raid on the docks of Runcorn. This time, Slagger Mulps and his men proved their success by spending gold like water. Sully Yot made a special point of flaunting his wealth in Drake's presence, while boasting of his daring. Drake, violently jealous, thought Arabin's plans might be worth pursuing if only to win triumph equal to Yot's.
But, while Drake was still weighing the pros and cons, all plans for the raid were interrupted by the unheralded arrival of a foreign adventurer. Menator, he was called: and he came to the Teeth with five ships, three hundred men, and half his own weight in gold.
Almost immediately, he gained a reputation for ambition. Then came public proposals so brash and rash they made Arabin's outrageous plans seem the ultimate in conservative caution. Word went out to all the islands of the Greaters, and the pirates began to gather in to Knock.
The pirates met in general assembly to pass judgment on Menator. Crowding a huge cavern lit by light filtering down twenty air shafts, and by half a hundred smoking torches, they gave off a communal stench which could have seriously competed with a legion of dead seals or any army of dung-soaked dogs.
Drake, in the middle of this mob, was surprised at what a crowd they made.
Menator spoke eloquently in the Galish Trading Tongue. He was, after all, the only person present who had Galish as his native tongue, for all that it was their lingua franca.
He wished to unite them for war and for conquest. To bring Stokos under their yoke. To seize the Lesser Teeth. To build an army. And then to start empire-building in earnest.
Some men jeered, and Drake was one of them. Menator became angry.
'The Greater Teeth could control all the west of Argan,' said Menator. 'If only you could see it. But no. Here you sit, on your walrus-infested rocks-'
This provoked mirth in certain quarters, scowls in others. Menator, puzzled by this reaction, looked around carefully then continued:
'You sit on your rocks, fighting for fish with sharks and skua gulls, when you could rule in palaces of silk and gold, with hot wet women tight between your legs. All it takes is will. An alliance of will. Believe me.'
Promises of paradise will always find buyers, and Menator's speech met with an enthusiastic reception.
'So,' said Menator, thinking this was all going very nicely, 'is it agreed?'
'Hang about!' shouted several voices. 'We haven't heard the other side, yet,'
The pirates wanted a proper debate. They believed strongly in democracy: meaning, among other things, a full and frank discussion of issues of public importance. Menator, who had never before encountered such plebian lower-class attitudes (he came from the better class of Galish merchant, and had mixed with the right kind of people for most of his life) was shocked.Still, there was nothing he could do about it.
First speaker for the negative was Slagger Mulps, who provoked applause just by rising to his feet. Since he was so very tall, he could be seen by almost everyone. And his shock of green hair identified him even in that poor light. His supporters started to chant in unison:'Walrus! Walrus! Walrus!'
Raising one of his double-thumbed fists on high to acknowledge this applause, Slagger Mulps swaggered to the podium (a heap of ale casks stood on their ends) and Menator was forced to yield it to him. The din slowly died down.
Drake, who had brought along some dead fish, threw one. But missed Slagger Mulps – and hit Menator slap-bang in the face. There was a roar of applause. Some of Menator's men drew weapons – but their leader brought them to order with a few curt words.
'Boys,' said Slagger Mulps, with a grin. 'At least you can say this for the Teeth – we've got plenty of fish to spare.'(General applause. From Menator, a scowl.)
'And,' continued Slagger Mulps, 'if the Teeth are infested with Walrus, what's wrong with that?'
(Mixed laughter, cheers, boos. Several dead fish were thrown, but missed.)
'These rocks have got a lot going for them,' said Mulps. 'For a start, they're ours. Nobody else wants them. But once we go seeking hegemony over foreign lands, well, then we're into some really heavy competition.'
(More noise from the audience. A loud-voiced obscene joke about 'herd riding', which was the literal translation of the Galish Mulps had used to say 'hegemony'.)
'Of course,' said Mulps, 'we could do it if we really wanted to. World conquest would be easy compared to sharing these islands with the Warwolf.'
(Uproar. A walrus head was suddenly raised on a battle-spear in the middle of the crowd. Scuffles broke out, continuing until the head had been hauled down and kicked to pieces, thus ceasing to become an object of contention. Slagger Mulps, unperturbed, continued.)
'But, boys, why try enslave the world? We all know how useless slaves are. Won't work unless kicked, and then so tough in the arse you'll as like break your toes as bruise them. Free men work best, boys, as do they now – loading the finest silks and the silkiest women on ships which by the morrow, mark my words, will be idling straight toward our jaws.
'Boys, let's think real. A conquered city sounds sweet, but like as not we'd burn it down the first time we set out to party. Here's a cheer for the Teeth! The walls are solid. They don't rot, they don't burn, or crack if you smash a skull against them. Why, on rock like this, you could even break up the pig bones which skull-plate the Warwolf!'
(Renewed uproar, continuing until the Walrus, satisfied with his eloquence, bowed gracefully and yielded the podium to the next speaker.)
The next speaker was Atsimo Andranovory. The great big barrel-chested black-bearded brute confronted the audience in silence, swaying slightly. Drake, gazing on him with hatred, bitterly regretted the fact that he had no more fish left to throw. Suddenly, Andranovory gave a prodigious belch. Someone clapped. Someone cheered. Then Andranovory vomited – then collapsed. The whole gathering applauded this performance.
As the drunken sot was carried away, Jon Arabin took the stage.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' said Arabin, looking around. 'I mean, of course, the gentlemen of the Warwolf and the ladies of the Walrus, and-'
(Furious shouting. Raucous cheers. Prolonged fish-throwing, most of it, again, inaccurate.)
'Ladies and gentlemen – may I speak? – thank you! -much as it grieves me to agree with Slagger Mulps, he's given us a lot of common sense. He got it from the fish guts his mother weaned him on. And, in any case, as the saying goes, even a blind walrus knows a dog from a virgin's gracehole.'
(Pandemonium. An outbreak of predictable behaviour. Consequences of such behaviour, some of them bloodstained. Peace restored, mainly through use of cudgels.)
'Strange it is for Warwqlf to sing in harmony with Walrus,' said Arabin. 'But on this occasion, I can do nothing else. We've heard easy talk of conquest. Aye. Conquest of Stokos. But who here knows the place as more than a name? I tell you this – I do. For one of my crewmen is Drake Douay, a native of the place. A strong fellow, not lightly scared.'
Hearing such praise, Drake was filled with a glow of pride. Ah, Jon Arabin! He knew quality when he saw it!
'With Drake Douay,' said Jon Arabin, 'I've lately been planning a raid on Stokos, so I know the strengths of the place well. They've people by the tens of thousands. They make weapons for the world, so they won't be short of steel if it comes to a fight. Worse, they've a breed of ogres on that island.
'Twice the height of men they stand – aye, as tall as Whale Mike. Where are you, Mike? Ah, there he is – over there, in the corner. But Mike, he's slim compared to these ogres, for they're built near as wide as they stand tall. How can humans fight against such?
'If you ask me, this man Menator's got no true plans for conquest. Instead, he hopes to wish us away to Stokos, so we all get killed in senseless battles. Then he can rule the Teeth, while we rot in hell, getting laughed at by our ancestors. But even if we did win Stokos, what good would that do us? Not much, say I.'
Then Arabin outlined the case against empire, speaking fluently, cogently, and with much gutter-wit (compared to which, what had gone before was mild).
Arabin truly doubted that Stokos could be conquered by the Teeth. He also knew that any quest for empire would involve an enormous amount of killing. He would have to breed furiously to pay off his death-debt. Meaning more expense, and more squalling daughters cluttering his caves (why no sons?). And – he was starting to feel his age, perhaps – he just did not think he could stand it.
After Arabin, many minor luminaries spoke (including Bluewater Draven, captain of the good ship Tusk). Some were for, but most were against. The pirates of the Teeth were, for the most part, too idle, lazy, cowardly, shiftless and gutless to make good imperialists.
Finally, after some discussion – which left seven pirates dead – the proposal for empire was lost.
Menator, finding the pirates would not support his drive for empire, announced that he would satisfy his ambitions without pirate help. He planned to begin by conquering the Lessers.
However, since it was winter, and the weather was bad, it was scarcely the time to hazard the dangerous waters of the Lessers. Menator therefore exercised his men by raiding the coasts of Dybra and Chorst, carrying off skinny sheep and half-starved goats.
Meanwhile, Jon Arabin resumed planning for a raid on Stokos.
In some ways, Drake regretted the fact that Menator had failed to win pirate support for his dreams of conquest. Their chances of success were small, but. . . what was the alternative?
The alternative was a lifetime of episodic raiding, long interludes of monotony, the shiftless company of drunken cronies, the repetitive comedy of the gambling tables . . .Which was not enough.For Drake wanted to make something of himself.
All through the years of his early youth he had imagined himself becoming, eventually, aswordsmith – a respected master craftsman whom the best men on Stokos would admire. When Muck's madness had ruined that dream, he had cherished ambitions of marrying into the royal family, or becoming a priest of the temple of Hagon. Now. . .
Now he was tempted to put his sword at Menator's service. Their chances were slim, yet. . .
We have but one life. If we don't get what we want from it, then what's the point of having it? Better slim odds for success than certain odds for defeat.
To stay a pirate was to be defeated. There was no job on the Teeth. No pride. No trust. Yet. . .
I'm scared, and that's the truth. This Menator's at least half mad. And. . . to leave Jon Arabin. . . why, that'd be a wrench, for sure…
Drake brooded about it while the winter rains and the winter seas launched onslaught after onslaught on the beleaguered desolations of the Teeth.
Thirty days after midwinter, Drake was practising a one-man kata in the privacy of his home cave when he was interrupted by Harly Burpskin.'What is it?' said Drake. 'Does Arabin wish to see me?''Nay, man,' said Burpskin. 'It's strangers.''Strangers?''They're sitting in the Inner Sleeve.'
'Pray, how sit they there when the water's a full three fathoms deep?'
'They're not swimming, man,' said Burpskin. 'They're on a ship.''What ship?' said Drake.'The Tarik:'I know it not,' said Drake. 'Where has it come from?''From Stokos.''Stokos!'
'Aye. With some mighty strange people aboard. Stranger still, when I mentioned we owned a Stokos boy, they proved to know you.'
Drake needed to hear no more, but hastened to the Inner Sleeve. Once he left the protection of the tunnel system, he found the day cold, moist and grey. Rain was falling from a coal-scuttle sky, dimpling the waters of the Inner Sleeve where floated helpless turds, drowned kittens, the corpse of a rat and several ships. One of the ships was a dingy thing painted in colours of earth and clay. A tarpaulin was stretched above her open hold.
'That's the Tarik,' said Burpskin. 'Go to the hold, man. You'll find a friend there.''A friend?'
'Aye,' said Burpskin, stepping back into the shelter of a tunnel.'Aren't you coming?' said Drake.'I've seen your friend once. That's enough for me.'
Drake looked dubiously at the Tarik. Was this a trap? Only one way to find out. . .
He walked through the rain, stepped onto the greasy gangplank, skidded, and almost fell. As he gained the deck, his heart was scrambling; he was panting with excitement. He strode toward the open hold.
Stout green bamboos held up a ragged brown tarpaulin in which an enormous weight of rainwater had pooled; the bamboos were bending beneath the load. Cautiously, quiet as a cockroach gliding through shadows under the threat of a hunting hammer, Drake eased himself in under the shelter of the tarpaulin and peered into the hold.
There in shivering gloom a great, sad creature sat on a pile of mouldy sacking. The creature was almost as wide as it was tall. Its shaggy black hair trailed down around the huge flaps of its ears. Its blue eyes, set amidst grey skin, looked tired and defeated. Light gleamed faintly on its downward-jutting tusks. It was King Tor.
Yes, Tor – who, by Sully Yot's account, had converted to this weird religion founded by Gouda Muck. Adherents of that faith believed Drake Douay to be the son of Hagon, the incarnation of absolute evil. So prudence dictated a retreat.
Yet Muck's but a mouth talking. And haven't I got a mouth myself? Aye. I'll argue it out with the king. I'll talk him sweet to sense – or die trying.'My lord
Tor looked up. He saw Drake. His nostrils flared. He came to his feet with a roar. As his head hit the tarpaulin, he thrust up with his arms. The water pooled in the tarpaulin was flung skywards. As it cascaded onto the deck, Tor roared, then shouted:
'Dreldragon! It's Dreldragon! Dreldragon Drakedon Douay!'
At his shout, men came bursting out of the cabins in the poop of the ship, and came racing down the wet, greasy deck, skidding and sliding as they came.Drake fled.
He sprinted over the water-wet deck, slipped, fell, bruised his shin, gained his feet – and ran straight into the arms of a tall broad-chested man.
Drake struggled. He tried to kick, claw, scratch, bite, butt, spit, punch and swear. But even swearing was nigh impossible with his enemy holding him so tight.
'Ease up, man,' said his captor, with something of a laugh. 'It's me.'Me? By the voice, 'me' was Heth.
Drake eased up, and looked at the face of the tall, well-built man (his hair as blond as Drake's) who was holding him now like a lover. It was indeed his brother Heth.'Heth,' said Drake. 'Oh, HethAnd began to weep with relief.
As the two brothers embraced, the rest of Tor's men gathered round. Amongst them was Levil Norkin, Drake's boyhood friend. And Oleg Douay, his uncle – the finest swordsmith on Stokos.
'Hey!' yelled King Tor, peering out of the hold. 'Come in out of the rain. Come down here – I don't want my finest fighting men dying of pernicious anaemia.'
On Stokos, it was a firmly-held belief that prolonged exposure to cold rain caused anaemia. Drake had endured so much bad weather on his adventures that he doubted it could be as destructive as Stokos thought – yet he willingly got himself out of the rain.
In long conversations with Heth, Tor and others, Drake learned of the disaster which had befallen Stokos. After Tor had converted to Goudanism, the temple of
Hagon had been destroyed. Goudanism had been made compulsory.
'It had its advantages,' said Tor. 'With the temple destroyed, the people spent little on whores and gambling. That made it much easier to collect taxes.''Aagh,' said Drake, and spat. 'Taxes!'
'Government costs money,' said Tor, 'and there's no way around it. Why, building roads alone – that's a heavy job for taxes.'
'Roads!' said Drake, with contempt, thinking he'd find much better ways to spend money if he were king.
'Roads,' said Tor, 'are necessary, look at it how you will. And they don't build themselves. Anyway – quite apart from the matter of money, the priests of Hagon had been taking more and more power for themselves. So I was glad to see them broken.''And then?' said Drake.
'Then Gouda Muck spoke madness. He said that only those born pure in flesh had rights to life. He set down codes for eyes, teeth, limbs, hands, hair and height. He declared all those not matched to his codes were evil.''And,' said Drake, 'you . . .?'
T was too tall to start with,' said Tor. 'His codes were built for humans. But I'm an ogre, and proud of it. What's wrong with being an ogre, I ask you?'
'Why, nothing,' said Drake. 'I honour ogres so greatly that I once asked to marry into your family. I'm still good to the offer, man. Where stands your daughter now?'
'My beautiful Hilda,' said Tor, 'is held prisoner on Stokos with her mother.'
And he began to weep. There are few things more lugubrious than an ogre in the depths of despair.
'Never mind,' said Drake. 'We'll rescue her. Aye. A war for Stokos! We'll win. Then chop up Gouda Muck, aye, cut him into seven thousand pieces.'
'With the help of the sea gods,' said Oleg Douay, cheerfully, 'we may well manage to do just that.''How stand things on Stokos now?' said Drake.
'After Muck made his codes,' said Heth, slowly, 'some tried to kill Tor. Others fought beside him. We lost.''Lost badly?' said Drake.'Badly enough,' said Heth.'Who rules then, on Stokos? Does Muck rule?'
'No,' said Heth. 'He's set up Sudder Vemlouf as ruler. Perhaps you've heard of him.'
'Aye, that I have,' said Drake. 'He was Muck's neighbour for year on year. I met him last in Narba, where he tried to kill me. He thinks me the son of Hagon.'
'If you are the son of the Demon,' said King Tor, through tears, 'then I'm with you all the way. Muck talks purity, but what that means is death, murder, blood, killing, the overthrow of rightful rule, the end of law, mad torture, fear, suspicion, and worse.'
'If we struck at Stokos with force,' said Drake, 'how many living there would help us?'
'Many,' said Heth. 'For many favour Muck only since they thought he'd win. If once they thought he'd lose, they'd sing different, that's for certain.'
'But before we can talk of striking,' said Oleg Douay, 'we must have strength to strike with. The gods help those who help themselves, you know.''You must,' said Drake, 'meet a man called Menator.''Who's he?'said Tor.
'He was once king in a place called Talajar, which is in the Ravlish Lands,' said Drake. 'When he lost his kingdom in war, he fled. He came to the Greaters with five ships, three hundred men and half his own weight in gold. Since then, he's been trying to persuade us pirates to a war of empire.''Why talk of yourself as a pirate?' said Tor.
'Why, man, for sake of honesty,' said Drake. 'For that's what I be, right now.'
'No,' said Tor, laying one of his immense hands on Drake's shoulder. 'You are a warlord in the armies of Stokos. You are the betrothed of my daughter, with all that that implies. I name you Lord Dreldragon; I name you heir to the kingdom of Stokos.'
Drake saw Heth grinning at him. Olegy Douay was smiling, obviously pleased. Levil Norkin gave him a clenched-fist salute. Drake felt giddy. Then, unable to help himself, he shouted his triumph to the world, with all the strength and eloquence at his command:'Wow!'
Menator swiftly came to agreement with King Tor. If Menator supported Tor in the conquest of Stokos, then Tor would give men, gold, weapons and ships to help Menator win an empire. His position bolstered by this agreement, Menator once more sought to win agreement from the pirates.
Drake was now wildly enthusiastic at the prospect of an invasion of Stokos. They would win. He would marry Hilda. And then he would find someone who knew where Zanya Kliedervaust had gone to, and he would send agents forth into the world to hunt her down then drag her back to Stokos to be his pleasure woman.
He was upset to find that, when he lobbied for King Tor, others failed to share his enthusiasm. Jon Arabin was still dead against a war of empire. Drake, who had no inkling of Arabin's religious objections to such a war, said:'Jon, you must support King Tor!'
'Who are you to tell me what I must and must not do?' said Jon Arabin.
'Jon, it's for your own benefit I'm saying this. Here's a great chance, man! Wealth, fame, power! When I'm king on Stokos, you can be lord of all my seapower.'
'And what makes you think,' said Arabin, 'that I should rejoice at the prospect of serving under a greasy under-sized mannikin who's been for so long my cook's boy?'
Without waiting for a reply to that question, Arabin turned his back on Drake and strode away – leaving Drake feeling cut to the quick.
As the pirates once more gathered in from the islands for a general assembly on Knock, Drake made further attempts to recruit Arabin to Tor's cause – but was again rebuffed. He saw his chances of power and kingdom slipping away from him. In desperation, he ventured to the cave where Slagger Mulps lived, determined to lobby the Walrus.
'The situation,' explained Drake, 'has changed. It's no longer a few wild pirates seeking invasion of Stokos. No – it's civil war we're planning. Once Tor steps ashore at Cam, half the city will rise to his support. We've no longer ogres to fight against – the ogres are on our side.'The green-haired pirate chief was suspicious.'What's in it for me?' said Mulps.
'Survival,' said Drake. 'Muck has strange ideas. If he gets to rule the world, you die.''How so?' said Slagger Mulps.
Drake explained Gouda Muck's ideas about what flesh should live and what flesh should die.
'I've got no prejudice myself,' said Drake. 'Why, man, I seek to marry an ogre – and they're as weird as ever was, or ever could be. So it matters not to me that your hair is green, aye, and your eyes as well. But Gouda Muck would have you killed for such.'
Drake by now knew that Slagger Mulps was intensely sensitive about his odd appearance. So he played on that as best he could – but, when the day of the meeting came, Drake was still unsure which way the Walrus would speak and vote.
Once more the pirates crowded into their huge meeting cavern. This time, Drake did not come equipped with dead fish, but with a speech carefully worked up with help from both his brother Heth and his uncle Oleg Douay.Drake was the first speaker.
He climbed onto the podium and faced the mob of pirates. He breathed their stench, and breathed, too, the fumes of half a thousand pipes – a ship laden with tobacco had recently been captured by the Teeth, and many of the pirates were doing their best to dispose of its cargo.
In that cave, dimly lit by air shafts and torches, Drake recognized scarcely a single face. He was speaking to strangers who, if displeased, might throw things – or tear him apart in the mindless rage which could so easily overthrow the sanity of a crowd.
Drake felt unsteady on his feet. There was a strange taste at the back of his throat – a taste like metal. His mouth was dry. He cleared his throat, then hawked, and spat.'Aagh,' said Drake.'Stand up!' yelled a wit.
'Man,' said Drake, 'if the good King Tor was here, I'd stand on his shoulders. Then yOu'd see me right enough. But Tor can't be here today. Not today. Not any day. And why? Because he's too great-girthed to dare our tunnels. You've seen him, aye. Surely. That's a monster true. Our monster, if we turn our will to Stokos.'
That opening was impromptu. But, while it had not been planned, it had come out smoothly enough. Now for the prepared speech. Drake looked out over the heads of his auditors. His first move was designed to slit Jon Arabin's sails right down the middle. Very well then.
'Boys, some of you know me, some know me not. I'm Drake Douay. Born on Stokos, aye, and there on Stokos raised. When last we met together, boys, all crowded here as close as buggery, you heard the good Jon Arabin speak well of me.
'Friend Arabin, my captain true, he named me as the one man who knows of Stokos as more than a name. I told Arabin well enough of Stokos, aye, and of the ogres. Hence Arabin spoke against a war on Stokos. And rightly so – for who here could chest it out with an ogre?
'But times change. Now the greatest ogre is ours. King Tor, that's him. He'll not fight against us. No. He's ours. He's with us. And so is every other ogre born on Stokos. For Stokos has fallen to the madness of an old old man called Gouda Muck, who hates all ogres and has sworn to kill them out.'
'With reason, perhaps,' yelled an anonymous heckler.
'This Gouda Muck has got no reason,' said Drake, 'for he speaks against copulation, aye, against men with women, against men with men, against cats with dogs for all I know. He stands against drinking, too. And rules out gambling. He worships what he calls purity, by which he means the end of joy, starvation of the flesh and all.'
Then Drake proceeded to paint a picture for the pirates. They would land on the coast of Stokos. They would rally the countryside. They would march on Cam. The people would rise against Gouda Muck. Tor would be victorious.
'Then,' said Drake, 'we can break apart the Orsay Bank. That's fabulous wealthy – and Tor, he loves it not. Yes. King Tor has sworn that our reward will be every treasure looted from the bank. That's wealth for all. Wealth almost beyond imagining.'
Drake spoke the truth. Tor had no love for the Orsay Bank, and was ready to sacrifice it to the pirates.
Drake, having said his piece, sat down. Pirates whistled, stamped, shouted, clapped and threw things. A mixed response, in other words.What now? Will Arabin speak?
Drake knew Arabin would find it difficult to win much credibility if he chose to speak as an expert on Stokos. Drake had indeed slit Arabin's sails – and he knew Arabin would be furious. Someone was coming to the podium. Who? Why-Grief of death! It's Sully Yot!
Up on the podium climbed Sully Yot. The lanky wart-faced youth looked flushed, manic, wild-eyed, half-crazed. He screamed at his audience:
'Evil! Evil! Evil! Tor is evil! Gouda Muck has spoken! Praise to Muck! He learns us truth! Some flesh is pure, but other flesh is born to evil. Tor is a monster. Monsters are not human. Tor has teeth which are wrong, limbs which are wrong, hands which are wrong. Only those with a fist of five digits are human. Tor has six fingers.'
'Hey!' yelled the Walrus. 'What's this nonsense about the fist deciding the man?'
'It's not nonsense,' shouted Yot. 'It's truth! Muck's truth! I've heard the news from Stokos! Muck has spoken, Muck has revealed. Muck is the High God of All Gods. And you – you've two fists on each hand. You're a monster too. You don't deserve to live. You-'
Sully Yot was hauled off the podium and pulled into the crowd. For a moment he vanished. He resurfaced briefly, then disappeared again. People were fighting, some obviously trying to kill Yot, others to protect him. Finally, Yot was hauled to safety.
By Quin Baltu, Ika Thole, Shewel Lokenshield, Peg Suzilman, Jon Disaster and Jon Arabin. By Harly Burpskin, Raggage Pouch, querulous old Jez Glane and slim dark Salaman Meerkat. By Lee Dix, Goth Sox, Hewlet Mapleskin and others – the entire crew, it seemed, of the good ship Warwolf.Drake groaned.
'What is it?' said his brother Heth, who was standing next to him in the crowd.
But Drake had no chance to answer, for uproar broke out as a very angry Walrus gained the podium. Slagger Mulps displayed his two-thumbed fists to the crowd then made them into fists.
'These hands,' shouted Slagger Mulps, 'these hands are ready for war.'
He wrenched down his trousers and showed off his male pride.
'And this – this, boys, this is ready for war as well. I'm built for action, that's the truth.' He pulled up his trousers.
'Arabin,' said Mulps. 'Arabin so old that every bit of hair has fallen from his head, he can stay behind on the Teeth. Aye. Mount sentry over rat, mouse and cockroach. But I'm for war, boys. War. Conquest. Gold.
'Last time I spoke, I spoke against empire. But times – well, as Drake Douay says, times change. We've got a king on our side. An ogre on our side. All the ogres on our side. Half of Stokos on our side. That alters odds.
I'm in for gold, conquest, wealth, women. Who's with me?'
A roar of approval showed that most of the pirates were. Drake knew that many other people would speak before a final decision was reached. But he was already sure of what would happen: the pirates would vote for empire.
After much heated discussion – in which another half a dozen pirates died – the reavers of the Greater Teeth did indeed vote for a war for empire. And Jon Arabin sent Harly Burpskin to tell Drake Douay that his days with the Warwolf were finished. Drake had expected as much.
He did not rightly understand why Arabin was still against empire, but knew his public opposition to Arabin must end their friendship. But to be an outcast still hurt. He had admired Jon Arabin, had rejoiced in Arabin's approval, had struggled hard to win promotion from ship's boy to crewman-And now it was all over.
Still, he was in amongst friends. His brother. His uncle. His king. And others from Stokos. And they had their own ship, the Tank, to make ready for a preliminary probing raid on Cam.
The probing raid was a disappointing, almost fruitless affair. The Tarik, with Drake aboard, sailed the six hundred leagues or so to Cam. As they dared the approaches to the harbour, three ships came out to meet them. Those ships chased the Tarik right round the shores of Stokos. Finally, in bad weather, the Tarik shook off the pursuers, and headed north.
They had learnt that Sudder Vemlouf, ruler of Stokos, had a navy of at least three ships.
'What we should do,' said Drake, 'is go in force. Aye. Half a dozen ships. Or send in spies. Perhaps we should ask Sully Yot to spy for us – he's got Muck's trust.''That's an excellent idea,' said King Tor.
So Drake arrived back at Knock with his hopes high. Sully Yot would be asked to spy for them; Yot would refuse; Yot would be thrown to the sharks or tortured to death, which would be a just and proper punishment for killing Drake's much-loved dog. (And, of course, for attempted murder of Drake Douay.)
When Drake landed on Knock, he was disgusted to find that Sully Yot had sailed with the Warwolf, bound on a raiding expedition to the Ravlish Lands.'What else is new?' said Drake.
The latest excitement proved to be the challenge which Lord Menator had set Slagger Mulps. It seemed the Walrus was demanding to be Grand Admiral of the Fleet of Imperial Conquest. Menator had doubts about his worthiness, but had given the man a chance to prove himself.
If Slagger Mulps could sail to the terror-lands beyond the protection of Drangsturm, capture one of the monsters of the Swarms and bring it back to the Greaters as proof of his prowess, then he would be 'seriously considered' for the position of Grand Admiral.
'It sounds to me,' said Drake, sagely, 'that Menator thinks Mulps is too big with ambition. So Menator wants to kill off Mulps. But he doesn't want the blood to show too clearly on his own hands.'
Drake's analysis was correct. Menator wanted to appoint only his own men to positions of power. Menator knew such a policy would not win approval from the pirates – so he had chosen to try to kill off Slagger Mulps subtly, by tempting him into accepting a suicidal dare.
To Drake's surprise – and to the surprise of others -Slagger Mulps took up the dare, and began to ready his ship for a voyage south.
'The man's mad,' said Drake to Drake. 'And I'm glad I've no part in that madness.'
Slagger Mulps was due to sail on the first day of spring. The day before the Walrus set sail, Drake was called to a conference with King Tor and Lord Menator. It was Menator who did the talking.
'We've thought long and hard about this challenge we've set for Slagger Mulps,' said Menator. 'We can't think of any way for him to cheat – but he's a pirate, so there's no telling what devious tricks he'll turn to. Thus we want someone aboard his ship to be our eyes and ears. To report true as to where he goes and what he does.'
'Man,' said Drake, 'then don't look at me. I crewed with Jon Arabin, sworn enemy of Slagger Mulps. If I were to go aboard his ship, his crew would kill me. Why, my own worst enemy sails with the Walrus. That's Atsimo Andranovory, a man made for murder. So I'll stay with King Tor, thank you very much.'
'You'll do no such thing,' rumbled Tor. 'You'll sail for the south with Slagger Mulps. Not least because I need"to test you. You've been chosen to marry my daughter. You've been chosen to inherit my throne. I need proof I've made the right choice.'
'Why,' said Drake, 'surely you can trust your own judgment.'
'In my youth,' said Tor, T studied the Inner Principles of the Old Science, just as you did. From that, I learned that judgment is best supported by experiment.'
T see,' said Drake. 'Perhaps . . . perhaps a test to destruction.''That depends on what you're made of,' said Tor.
'The Walrus sails tomorrow,' said Drake. 'Have you jacked this up with Slagger Mulps? Is he happy to have me on board? Have you got a promise of safe conduct out of him?''We've not spoken to Slagger Mulps,' said Menator. 'Nor will we,' said Tor.
'Then how,' said Drake, in something close to despair, 'how do I get on his ship? And if I do – how do I survive?' 'That,' said Tor, 'is your first test.'