Zanya Kliedervaust: priestess of the Orgy God of the Ebrell Islands; renounced her position and formally abjured alcohol, sexual intercourse, sunbathing, the eating of sweet things and all the other pleasures of the flesh after seeing her mother, father, brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles and aunts die of venereal disease, alcoholism and obesity.
Quit Ebrell and travelled west in the company of Prince Oronoko of Parengarenga, questing for purity. Arriving at Cam on the xebec which rescued Drake Douay from the Central Ocean, sought work at the leprosarium.
Was converted to the worship of the Flame by Gouda Muck; became an apostle for Goudanism and left Stokos to preach the Faith in foreign parts.
The wizard Miphon was cleaning a xyster when Drake Douay was brought into his clinic by one of the women from the kitchen. Blood was dripping through Drake's blond hair and sleeking down his weather-battered sealskins. A drop of dark red fell soundlessly to the cool grey flagstones of the floor.
'Welcome,' said Miphon, speaking in the Galish Trading Tongue; and, smiling to reinforce his welcome, he laid the xyster down on a well-scrubbed table of sun-bleached driftwood.'Tach smin hebalar,' said the woman from the kitchen.
Miphon, who did not speak her language, waved her out of the clinic. Choosing to misinterpret this gesture, she
seated herself in one of the clinic's five bamboo chairs.'Out!' said Miphon sharply, clapping his hands twice.
Reluctantly, curiosity unappeased, the woman left. Miphon pointed Drake to a bamboo chair, which creaked as the bloodstained pirate sat.'Have you been fighting?' said Miphon.
'Nay, man,' said Drake, looking around the clinic. His gaze lingered on a remarkable array of delicate steel instruments – hooks, blades', tweezers, spikes and probes. With luck, he could slip a couple into his pockets. Whale Mike might like them for his scrimshaw work. 'I was testing my powers of flight when my wings fell off.''How far did you fall?''Half way from here to Narba.'
'And you hit your head. What's the last thing you remember?'
'Why, the death and resurrection of the star-dragon Bel. A whore who turned into a horse as she came. Five dozen oysters dancing drunk in the streets of Narba. Why all these daft questions, man? I'm bleeding to death!'
'A little blood,' said Miphon, 'goes a long way. Tell me – what do you see?'So saying, the green-eyed wizard held up three fingers.
'See?' said Drake. 'Why, I see a blind rat mating with a seagull. Aye, and four blue lepers hauling a giant cockroach backwards up a mountain.''That's near enough,' said Miphon.
And, turning away, the wizard began to wash his hands in a bowl of water. Drake smelt something strange. What? Oh – soap. He remembered his sister using it a couple of times. Swift and sly, he reached out, grabbed a couple of tiny cutlass-curved blades from a nearby bench and slipped them into a pocket. Miphon, shaking the water off his hands, turned back to Drake and began examining his scalp.
'I'm the wizard Miphon,' he said, easing Drake's hair this way and that as he explored the damage.T know that,' said Drake. 'We met on Stokos. Ow!
That's sore! Hey – you really don't remember me?'
'In busy times,' said Miphon, T can see upwards of a hundred people a day. How can I remember all of them?'
Drake felt insulted.
'But I was special!' he said. 'You told me a tale about you being a mind-reading elf. You gave me a philtre to cure myself of love.'
'Oh,' said Miphon, pouring water from a ewer into a clean bowl. 'Oh … I remember now.' He balanced the bowl on the back of Drake's chair, the hard edge of it against the nape of Drake's neck. 'Lean back. I've got to wash the blood out of your hair. Hmmm … I remember you all right. But the name . . . that escapes me.''I'm Arabin lol Arabin,' said Drake.
The lie came easily. It was a smart move. Who knows? This wizard could have converted to Gouda Muck's cult. He might be one of those who was hunting Drake, thinking him the son of the demon Hagon.
'Arabin lol Arabin,' said Miphon. 'I won't forget you when we meet again.''We'll never meet again.'
'It's a small world,' said Miphon. 'Hmmm . . . this looks good . . . the bleeding's more or less stopped.''That's health for you,' said Drake.
Miphon laid aside the bowl of blood-misted water. Taking a sharp blade, the wizard began to shave hairs on either side of the gash where Drake's scalp had been torn as his head hit the ground when the purple-skinned Oronoko threw him out of the kitchen.
'How much hair are you cutting away?' said Drake in alarm.'Does it matter?' said Miphon.
'It matters much! Man, there's a beautiful red-breasted woman I want to make. I can hardly court her if you've cut me half bald.''You're after the Kliedervaust woman?' said Miphon.'That's her.'Miphon laughed.
'You won't get her,' he said. 'She's in the clutches of faith. She preaches the defiance of the flesh.''And what do you think of that?'
'Flesh,' said Miphon, 'is that through which we live. No flesh, no life. Of course, flesh is but the medium in which our existence finds expression. The expression of existence is not to be confounded with the inspiration of that expression. Mere hedonism would exult the medium at the expense of the inspiration. So perhaps her doctrine is a necessary corrective for certain trends.'
'Man,' said Drake, 'you make a right proper tangle out of simple language. What did you mean to say? That you agree with this talk of purity? Or that you don't?'
'That I both do and don't,' said Miphon. 'It is both wise and foolish. Something, perhaps, could be made of it in time.'
'There speaks a wizard! Hey, man – just how much hair are you cutting?'
'Just enough so I've clear skin to sew up this gash with cat-gut.'
'Cat-gut!' said Drake, scandalized. 'The gut of a cat? In me? Man, that's disgusting. Why not dog-gut?'
'Because the dog,' said Miphon, 'is a foul, polluted animal which has nothing to offer the healing arts.' He took up a curved needle from which a length of dark thread trailed. 'This thread is the cat-gut. Hold still, now. This will hurt.'
And he began to sew up the gash in Drake's scalp. With cat-gut.
'Man,' said Drake, doing his best to ignore the bright silver pain of the needle, 'tell me. How long has this Zanya Kliedervaust been here?'
'I've been here ninety days myself,' said Miphon, tying a knot. 'She was here when I came. She preaches nightly to the troops.'
'Surely she must have preached to every soldier here long, long ago.''The garrison,' said Miphon, guiding pain again into
Drake's flesh, 'rotates. These soldiers are from the Landguard of the Confederation of Wizards. They guard the castles ranged along Drangsturm; they patrol the shores; they hunt down the few stray monsters which escape our scrutiny and flee to the mountains north of the flame trench.''They work … for wizards, then?''Yes.'
'So you, as a wizard,' said Drake, 'do you command this island?'
'I've a commander's power on Burntos if I choose to use it,' said Miphon. 'I've a warrant from the Confederation to prove that power. But I've more sense to try that power except under the pressure of necessity.'
'Man, power is for using. That's half the fun of having it.'
Miphon made no reply to that, but finished off his sewing. Drake had got blood on his hands. Miphon sponged the blood away. Which was unnecessary, but. . . nice. The touch of his firm, competent hands was . . . strangely relaxing.
Having cleaned the hands, Miphon started removing bloodstains from Drake's sealskins.
'No need for that,' said Drake, standing. 'The job's done, aye. Done well. I'll be off now. Oh – but I'll need a bandage for my head first.'
'For what do you need a bandage?' said Miphon. 'Fresh air and sunlight, that's the thing. Whoever does the doctoring on your ship, get them to check your wound daily.''How do you know of the ship?' said Drake.
'Do you think your vessel stands invisible?' said Miphon. 'This island is well-watched, though you may not have noticed the watchers. Everyone on Burntos knew of your ship long, long before your rowing boat ever reached for the shore.''Why so much effort spent watching?' said Drake.'Because experience tells us it's necessary,' said Miphon.And, dipping a hand into the pocket where Drake had hidden the blades he had filched off the bench, Miphon recovered his cutlery.
'Man!' said Drake, wide-eyed with wonder. 'How did those fancy little blades get in there? They must be magic, man! They must have flown through the air and slipped themselves inside there, for I swear I never touched them.'
'I'd find it hard to believe you,' said Miphon, 'except that I did indeed see them fly through the air and hide themselves in your pocket.'
'How did you manage to see that, when you were looking the other way at the time?'
'Being of elven descent,' said Miphon dryly, 'I have invisible eyes in the back of my head.'
On leaving Miphon's clinic, Drake thought about going back to the kitchen. No! Not a good idea! He had no chance against Oronoko. Better to wait till evening came. Then Zanya would preach. He would watch. Look for an opportunity.
A little time, that's all I need. A little time alone with the woman. Man, when she knows I've been chosen as the next king on Stokos, she'll be hot to have me. Surely.
One thing was for certain: he was not leaving Burntos without Zanya. But for the moment. . .
Find the Walrus. Aye. He'll be wondering where I've got to.
The sun was well up. The island was baking. Oven-dry. Wet patches of mirage shimmered on the barren rock. How do soldiers survive?
Drake tried to imagine a soldier's life. Day after day on this lifeless rock. The inhuman discipline of parades. Inescapable routines. Not much variety in the food, either, if what he'd seen in the kitchen was anything to go by.
He saw, in the distance, a few stray figures standing beside a long, low, isolated building. His comrades? Only one way to find out. . .
On closing the distance, Drake found his captain in conversation with two officers of the Landguard, who looked very smart indeed in their skyblue uniforms and their red leather open-weave sandals. Drake wondered what chance he had of stealing one of those uniforms. It would look real good on him, once the useless height had been cut out of it.
Slagger Mulps did not bother to greet Drake. He was talking money. His double-thumbed fists gesticulated as he emphasized his points.'Where's the others?' said Drake.
Mulps did not condescend to notice him, but continued talking. His hands squeezed air, chopped it, shaped, thrusted and sliced. A dance of digital articulation, a counterpoint to his voice.
'. . . must understand our funds are not unlimited. I'm working under strict limitations, as I'm only an agent for a-foreign buyer; I've got scant discretionary powers. You've already heard my uppermost offer.'
Man, friend Walrus is talking slick today! How came he by such slackness? Maybe he's a king in exile. Aye. Like King Tor. Like Menator, too. So many kings! A plague of kings. . .
'You must be getting a commission,' said one of the officers. 'If you really want to close the deal, perhaps you'll have to sacrifice a few percentage points of that commission. Because what you call your uppermost offer is in fact – and I'm sure you're aware of the fact – close to farcical. Our product is unique. You can't buy it elsewhere.'
' Yes,' said Mulps.' But demand is minimal. That colours the case somewhat, does it not?'
Drake, losing interest in this dickering, wandered round the windowless building. He found a huge iron-studded sliding door at its southern end. Strange. He kicked it. The door rattled slightly. Then shook with a thunderous crash, as if a giant had kicked back from within. Startled, Drake leapt back.'Who's there?' he said.No answer.
He continued his circumnavigation of the building. Right down at the northern end he found a slim doorway leading into the gloom.
Dare I? I'm Drake Douay. Of course I dare!
He went through the door, and found a narrow passage which twisted left, then right, then left again, before opening into a small room lit by a slim overhead light-shaft. Bucks Cat and Ish Ulpin were there, down on their hands and knees staring into what looked like a giant mousehole.'Hi,' said Drake. 'What're you looking at?''A monster,' said Bucks Cat.
'Let's see,' said Drake, and knelt down in front of the hole, which was large enough for him to have crawled through had he wanted to.
He found himself looking into a long hall, dimly lit by overhead lightshafts. Something was in there. What? He saw a gleam of something cool white, like ivory. A tusk? A feeding spike! There was a Neversh in there. Drake's knees began to ache from kneeling on the stone, but he did not rise. He was fascinated.'Amazing,' he said. 'How did they get it in there?'
'The Neversh flew to the island,' said Ish Ulpin. 'It found all meat fled within the stone. Seeking flesh, it went through the only door – then some hero closed the door and trapped it.'
'But why would a Neversh go into this – this trap if there was no meat within.'
'Oh, there was meat,' said Ish Ulpin. 'It's done like this. A few people stand by the large doorway to tempt the Neversh inside. Then they flee to this end of the building and escape through the bolthole which you're looking at.'
'Man,' said Drake, with a shudder, 'they'd need to be heroes indeed to risk a face-to-face with a brute like that. I'm glad I'm not such a hero.''Of course you're such a hero,' said Ish Ulpin.
And he and Bucks Cat grabbed Drake. They forced him into the bolthole.
'Yaaa!' screamed Drake, struggling, bruising his shoulders on the walls of the giant mousehole.
The monster within stirred to life. Its wings beat, battering against the low 'stone" roof. Its eight crocodile-sprawling feet tore screams of protest from the rock floor. Suddenly, Ish Ulpin and Bucks Cat stopped pushing. Drake thrust himself back. And felt something snag his arm.'It's got me!' he screamed.
The Neversh had spiked his right arm with the tip of one of its grapple-hooks.'Help!' screamed Drake. 'It's dragging me in!'
'We've got you!' yelled Bucks Cat, hauling on Drake's legs.
Drake felt his hands, greased with sweat, slide over the smooth stones of the mousehold as the Neversh dragged him toward his doom. Then agonizing pain ripped through his right arm. The grapple-hook had torn free. Pulled by Bucks Cat and Ish Ulpin, Drake shot out of the mousehole like a burst of water exploding out of a blowhole.
The three pirates collapsed in a heap on the floor. There was a hideous sound of ripping rock as the monster tried to tear its way through to the flesh which had just escaped. Drake got to his feet. He shambled through the dark, twisting exitway, colliding off first one wall then another.
A slash-sharp swash of sunlight. A giddy horizon. Swaying. The ground, buckling underfoot. Breath quick, heart quick. Quick to bursting. Glanced at the sun. White. Swaying. The sea was shuddering. The ground rocked underfoot.'I can't come right!' he cried.
Tried to walk. Staggered, drunk, as the earth buckled. The ground split black in front of him. He screamed. The crack in the rock sprinted towards him. He jumped. Legs wide apart. The widening crack raced between his legs. Then slammed shut. Opened. Slammed. Opened. Slammed. Opened.
Drake jumped sideways. Tried to run. Fell. Saw Bucks Cat weaving from side to side, his black face shining with sweat and sunlight. Saw Ish Ulpin, the tall pale man floundering, grasping at air.
Am I mad?
The ground rocked again. Then steadied. Drake heard waves thrashing against the shore. Someone wailing. He got to his knees, breathed dust, coughed, sneezed. A distant shout. His torn right arm. Vivid red. Blood. Gore. Deep. Sweat dripped from his forehead in heavy drops. Running as free as blood.'Man!' said Bucks Cat. 'Oh man . . .'
Drake stood, slowly. There were gaping cracks in the building which held the Neversh. The monster was scrabbling fiercely within. Ish Ulpin clapped a hand on Drake's shoulder.'You all right?' he said.
T live,' said Drake. 'But, man, we'd better get out of here before that monster tries something else. It's powerful fierce, man!'
Bucks Cat hooted with laughter. And Ish Ulpin said, with unwonted gentleness:
'It wasn't the monster which shook the world. It was an earthquake.''Earthquake?' said Drake.
'Aye,' said Ish Ulpin. 'Have you never been in an earthquake before?'
'This was my first,' said Drake. 'What makes these earthquake things?'
'War waged by demon-gods in the halls of hell,' said Ish Ulpin. 'That's what makes earthquakes, or so I've been told. The monster's a lesser danger – and we'll have no more trouble from it till we try to put it on our ship.'
'How did you do this?' said the wizard Miphon, examining Drake's torn forearm.
'Man, I was stroking a tabby cat when the vicious little hussy scratched me.'
'I suppose you pulled its tail,' said Miphon, deadpan, clearing away some of the weltering blood with a moist sponge.
'Man,' said Drake, in alarm, peering into the gaping gash, 'there's the end of a tendon! I've cut a tendon! Man, I'm crippled for life!'
'Don't worry about that tendon there,' said Miphon, touching the offending article with the tip of a probe. 'That's surplus to requirements. We haven't used that for millions of years.''Then when did we use it?'
'At an earlier stage in our evolution. Humans were fish once, then lizards.''A likely story!' said Drake.
'More likely than some of those you tell,' said Miphon. 'I'll put some internal sutures in here.' 'More cat-gut?'
'It's the only thing to use,' said Miphon. 'It'll dissolve within the wound when its job's done.' And he began to sew.
T hope these stitches work better than your magic,' said Drake.'What magic is that?' said Miphon.
'Why, that magic philtre you sold me, to cure me of love when I first fell for the fair Zanya Kliedervaust.'
'Ah, that,' said Miphon. 'I remember the philtre. But as for this business of selling it … as I remember, it was a gift freely given.'
'Aye. Given free, since worthless. Man, that was no love-cure. That was an aphrodisiac! It set me lusting like an octopus.'
'Did you use the philtre by moonlight, as directed?' said Miphon. 'Did you kiss the ground to invoke her power?' 'Why, no, but-'
'True wizards never embellish magic with useless ceremony,' said Miphon. 'Every instruction must be followed if you wish for success.'
'Oh,' said Drake. 'Now I understand. How about some magic to help me out with my lady? I didn't do too well on our first encounter.'
'How,' said Miphon, swabbing the wound, 'did you approach the lady?''I jumped on top of her,' said Drake.'That wasn't very nice!''Man, that's what women are made for.''Have you asked a woman about that?''What would you know about it? You're a virgin.'
'Whatever I am,' said Miphon, 'I can tell you this. Young Zanya has been through hard times.''How would you know?'
'She speaks with me here on occasions,' said Miphon. 'I cannot tell you details, for that would be unethical. But I can tell you that. She is deeply suspicious of men and their motives. With good reason. If you would win her, then you must give her reason to trust you.''How can I do that when she's crazy on faith?'
'Her faith,' said Miphon, digging in with a needle, 'is at least in part a source of reassurance. If you can give her such, then the faith may … it may, perhaps, accommodate the flesh.''Give me a potion to make her love me,' said Drake.
'There is,' said Miphon, 'no such potion. Magic is better at destruction than at building.'
'Magic built the flame trench Drangsturm, did it not?' said Drake.
'It did indeed. But the flame trench is itself an instrument of destruction. All it creates is violence – a violence which divides the north of Argan from the terror-lands of the Deep South.'
'Man,' said Drake, 'I've been thinking about that flame trench. That earthquake thing we had just now, could such rip Drangsturm into halves? Could it tear rock so wild that the Swarms found a way north?'
'Drangsturm is indeed vulnerable to earthquake,' said Miphon gravely. 'And, indeed, to other dangers. That is why the castles of the Confederation stand guard, with the
Landguard to support them. But . . . don't worry too much. Drangsturm has protected the north for the last four thousand years, ever since the end of the Long War.'
'The Long War? I've heard rumours of such. Was it wizards and heroes, as they say?'
'It was before my time,' said Miphon. 'But there was indeed an Alliance of wizards and heroes. They fought the Swarms and threw them back to the Deep South.'
'So . . .if the Swarms came north again, they could be beaten back.'
'The Alliance,' said Miphon, 'had use of ancient weapons which were destroyed by their employment. None such remains to us – therefore, we could not be certain of a second victory.'
'You talk of nonsense,' said Drake. 'There's no weapon you can only use once. A weapon lasts near enough to forever, aye, any swordsmith will tell you that.'
'A burning arrow is a weapon, is it not?' said Miphon. 'And how many times can you use a burning arrow?''Seventy-five thousand,' said Drake, promptly.
'You've got a quick wit,' said Miphon. 'Your voice will serve you well in love and war, if you cultivate it. Remember that, when you court the lady Kliedervaust.'
Evening. Mosquito dance. Standing on the stony beach by an open fire, Zanya Kliedervaust preached to a scattering of soldiers. The purple-skinned Oronoko squatted at her feet, a cudgel in his hands. There was, in consequence, no heckling. Drake hung back in the shadows, reluctant to risk the wrath of Oronoko. He was slightly weak from blood-loss, and definitely in no state for fighting.
She was talking of things he had heard before from Gouda Muck and Sully Yot. Talking of purity. Abstinence. Denial.'How far away is the moon?' she said.
'Further than I can throw an apple,' volunteered one of the soldiers.
Zanya took a few moments to make sense of that. Her
Galish had improved, but it seemed she still found swift speech hard to follow.
'Yes,' she said, at length. 'It is further than we could throw an apple. But things lie hidden within the dark well within a stone's-throw. For dark hides. Dark conceals. Dark entangles. It is light which reveals. Light which clarifies. Light which makes possible. Fire is light. Light is fire.
'In darkness is secrecy. Secrecy is darkness. Which among you has not a secret which is shameful? Which amongst you could stand bare in truth like the purity of those higher fires, the sun and moon? Yield to the Flame, and the Flame will burn you clean, yea, and you too will stand naked to the eye of truth yet unashamed.'Thus she spoke.
But there was no fervour in her speech. She was tired. Weary from a long day in the kitchen. She had laboured many days without a break. Each evening she had preached, mouthing the words so many times they had almost lost their meanings. She spoke by rote.
Drake saw she was so fatigued, so hollow, so worn by routine, that she herself had almost ceased to live. What lived in her was habit. She had become a puppet animated by the alien routines imposed upon her by Gouda Muck. The old man's words had replaced her will. It was not her voice which spoke, but his. She had become his creature.
Watching, listening, Drake had an unfamiliar intimation of evil". Muck had made Zanya into a weapon. A burning arrow. How many times can a burning arrow be used? She was destroying herself. Nothing on this island of barren rock and inhuman routine would nourish or cherish her. Muck had made her his voice and had sent her into the world to be ruined.Drake felt sorry for her.
Creeping away into the dark, he made his plans. It was all very well for the wizard Miphon to suggest that he win Zanya by fair speech, but that was impossible. Oronoko would let him nowhere near the woman.
She would have to be kidnapped. For her own good, mind! Hauled aboard the Walrus. Then tamed at leisure. Taught to be a woman again. It might take some doing. But Drake Douay was equal to the task . . .
'What's she to you?' said Slagger Mulps. 'You're in lust? You want her as your fancy woman, perhaps? Do you think I'll risk my ship for the whim of your cock?'
'Man, she's nothing to me,' said Drake, hastily. 'But she's lots to Muck. She's his disciple, don't you know. Man, we can use her as hostage. A pawn in the war for Stokos.'
'Hmmm,' said the Walrus, running his hand through his green beard as he thought. 'Perhaps King Tor would like to lay hands on Muck's disciple.'
'Oh, I don't think that's really a good idea,' said Drake. 'Man, he might rip her in half.'
'Who cares if he does?' said Mulps. 'She's nothing to you, is she? The boys can have fun with her first, before we hand her over. An'vory likes red meat. I've a taste for such myself, if it comes to that.'
Atsimo Andranovory was indeed pleased when he heard about Drake's scheme to kidnap Zanya Kliedervaust.
'So the young pup's good for something after all,' he growled.
'It's a great idea, man,' said Bucks Cat, slapping Drake on the back.
'Aye,' said Ish Ulpin, squeezing his shoulder. 'We'll let you lead the rape pack when we get the wench aboard.' And Simp Fiche drooled.
Three days went by.
Drake endured agonies of horror, guilt and despair. His brilliant idea had gone wrong. But he should have known what would happen! He knew what pirates were like. Aye. And what would happen now? Why, Zanya would be likely ripped apart. And would welcome such death, having wished herself dead many times before.
He had planned for things to be so nice. Her and him, alone in the dark together. Him explaining things to her, reasonable like. Maybe a little force, if strictly necessary – but just by way of introduction, to show her what delights were available.
The reality . . .
The reality which threatened was like something out of nightmare. A long slow voyage of repeated rape, with death at the hands of King Tor at the end of it.
What should he do?
Warn Zanya? No – that would ruin his chances with the woman for a lifetime.
Talk to Mulps, perhaps? Explain that the woman was rightly his, was special, was – well, his true love. No. That would never work. He was only aboard the Walrus on sufferance. Mulps would scarcely take kindly to having Drake Douay dictate his behaviour.Then-
What if he betrayed Slagger Mulps? Narked to the soldiers, so an ambush was waiting when the raiding party came to kidnap Zanya? What then? The ship would be seized, Slagger Mulps and crew would be killed or enslaved, and Drake would have a lot of explaining to do if he ever got back to the Greaters.Besides . . .
Whale Mike was his friend, was he not? Yes. The dumb yellow-faced earless monster was, when all was said and done, a true friend. Drake could scarcely sacrifice the ship – if only for the sake of Whale Mike. And Rolf Thelemite – he wasn't bad. You could even say a thing or two for Bucks Cat and Ish Ulpin, despite their murderous taste in practical jokes.
'The thing to do,' said Drake to Drake, as he walked alone on the shores of Burntos, 'would be to kidnap Zanya on my own. Aye. Then get her to the mainland in a boat.'
Possible. But – where would they go? Where would they hide if Oronoko came hunting for them? If he killed his purple-skinned rival, how would the Landguard take that? How much of the mainland was under Landguard jurisdiction?There were too many unknowns.
Besides – he had to go back to the Greaters. Otherwise he would never win King Tor's confidence. He would never get to marry Tor's ogre daughter, Hilda, or be crowned king of Stokos. He would never again see his brother Heth. Or Jon Arabin. Or any of his friends from the Warwolf.'There has to be another way,' said Drake.
On the afternoon of the third day, as the captive Neversh, weakened by lack of water, was dragged in chains to the ship, Drake realized what he had to do. He went to see the wizard Miphon.
'Man,' said Drake, 'you've a commander's powers on Burntos, isn't that so?'T said as much,' said Miphon. 'I meant as much.'
'Then, man … I don't know how to put this. It's delicate, see. Some friends of mine . . . well, they've let high-spirits carry them away. You know how men talk, aye, wild-like, boasting of things round booze. Well, these friends . . . usually their crazy thinking wears off with the drink. But this time, it stuck. I'm. . .these are my friends, man. I don't want to betray them. But I thought maybe -maybe you could help them keep from trouble. By removing temptation. Subtle, like. Without saying anything about anyone informing or such.''You can trust me,' said Miphon. 'Speak.'
When Drake got back to the Walrus, the Neversh was being folded in thirds to make it fit into the treasure hold, which lay forward of the hold in which Whale Mike lived, cooked and slept. Ish Ulpin winked at Drake, and Bucks Cat slapped him on the back.'Tonight's the night, eh?' said Bucks Cat.'For sure,' said Drake.
'You'll be coming with us, I suppose,' said Ish Ulpin casually.
Drake's first thought was to answer 'no'. But he couldn't do that – it would arouse suspicion.
'Of course,' he said, voice cool as a wet-skinned squid hauled writhing from the blue-black depths of the sea.
So that was it. He was committed ashore on tonight's raiding expedition to capture Zanya Kliedervaust. What if the wizard Miphon had failed to exile Zanya and Oronoko, as he had promised? What if they were delayed in getting off the island? Worse – what if Miphon, despite his promises, had arranged for an ambush?Tonight, man, perhaps tonight you die.