not bear naming at this moment.'
'How do you know all this?' said Togura.
'We've been talking, haven't we? Why so fierce, youngster?'
'Because I've been cheated and tricked and lied to. Because I risked my life to save him and because I thought him an honest stranger. Because he conned me and duped me and gives me no thanks. Look at him smirking!'
'Thanks is not in his nature,' said the landlord, 'but he can surely redeem his debt to you all the same. As I was telling you, his ship was one of three. They had a rendevous point for gathering in case they were separated in the Penvash Channel – which is that body of water on our doorstep, in case you didn't know.'
'I know,' said Togura, who hadn't until that moment.
'If one or both remaining ships survive, they'll search for Draven's vessel. In all probability, they'll put a boat ashore to make discretions in D'Waith.'
'Discretions?'
'They'll ask after the lotch, but carefully,' said the landlord patiently.
'The lotch?'
'The missing one, the retarded one, the latecomer,' said the landlord, supplying the meaning of the cant word. 'If they varry – '
'Varry?'
'Enough of this language lesson!' said Draven impatiently. 'Come on, let's pay off the boy.'
'I don't want to be paid off,' said Togura. 'I want an apology.'
'What an innocent little mannikin,' said the landlord, with a laugh which – and this was unusual for him – had something of a jeer about it. 'Apologies? From a pirate? You'd be searching! There now, don't take it hard. You saved a life. That's something for a day's work. You've got Bluewater Draven in your debt, so take what's offering. Take his gold or his services. He can ship you to Ork, if you're wanting.'
'Can I think about it?' said Togura, seeing that argument was going to get him nowhere.
'Thinking's free,' said Draven. 'But have a decision by tomorrow's daylight.'
At that moment, two boys arrived with buckets, and began to bail out the tavern. Shortly afterwards, a butcher from D'Waith arrived to take away the dead bodies to be made into sausage meat. Then some jubilant wreckers entered, bearing trophies – the heads of five sea rovers – and pirate gold. As the tavern began to get lively, despite the landlord's expectations, talk of sensitive matters ended.
From the tavern talk, Tokura was able to complete his picture of what had happened while he had been absent from civilization. On the day on which the Warguild had attacked the wedding at the Suet's Grand Hall, Baron Chan Poulaan had gone missing. Rumour had it that Togura Poulaan, also known as Barak the Battleman, had pitched his father into a mining pit, thus murdering him.
Togura's half brother, Cromarty, had assumed control of the family estate near Keep, and had offered a reward for Togura's head. Rumour held that Togura, aka Barak, had been sighted in fifty different places during the time he had been hunted – which was now almost a year. He was credited with five rapes, two murders and several acts of vandalism and arson; most recently, or so rumour had it, he had attacked a homestead in the mountains, routing the seven men who tried to defend the place against his depredations.
'Ay, I can credit that,' said a one-legged card sharp, and proceeded to give a vivid eyewitness account of how he had confronted Barak half a year ago. 'Chewed off my leg, he did. Turned himself into a great black manul, leapt, fanged him, bit, chewed, swallowed – kneecap, ankle, shin, he ate the lot.'
'Give over, Doss,' said an onlooker. 'You lost that leg ten years ago if it was a day.'
'No,' insisted the card sharp. 'That's not true. Listen, it was up in the mountains. A cold day. I challenged him. One moment he was standing there, as clear as I see you – a great big unruly fellow with a spiked club in his hand – and the next moment he'd turned himself into this gory great cat, as big as a horse if it was larger than a mouse.'
His eyes shone with sincerity; his voice carried the tones of impeccable conviction; it was clear that more than a few believed him.
These being the rumours that Togura did hear – and in a single night, at that – he could only guess at those he didn't hear. Offering a reward for a man's head was a foreign practice previously almost unheard of in Keep; the reward made this manhunt a novelty, and the recent increase in the amount of the reward had made it a topical novelty at that.
With his dream of retiring into this father's home now shattered, Togura had to think of his own safety. There were no portraits or sketches of him in circulation, so few people outside Keep would know what he looked like. Nevertheless, it would be safer to get out of Sung until this trouble blew over.
By morning, Togura had come to a decision. He asked Draven to take him to Larbster Bay; from there, he would make his way along the Salt Road to Estar. Once he reached Estar, he would be faced with another decision. There were two possibilities.
Either he could stay in Estar and work at some honest trade, hoping for Cromarty to get himself killed in a duel or a feud, thus opening the way for Togura to return home; or, alternatively, he could approach Prince Comedo of Estar and ask for permission to dare the terror of the monster which guarded the bottle which contained the box which contained the index which spoke the Universal Language which would give him control of the odex.
'Can you take me to Larbster Bay?' said Togura.
'Nothing easier,' said Draven. 'Once a ship calls for us. It's on the way to Ork. Perhaps, of course, there'll be no ship. If so, I'll buy us passage with the next Galish convoy travelling from D'Waith to Larbster Bay. We'll get you on your journey, youngster. Trust Draven. Thousands do – and no man ever regretted it.'
Togura, judging Draven to be sincere, ate well, drank well, slept well, helped the landlord tend the bar, and waited until they could start their journey.
Chapter 19
The seas at the end of summer were in full flood. The tall ship strode the ocean, riding over the scalloping light, urged by a brisk wind which drove it through the dalloping dolloping waves.
The name of the ship was the Warwolf, but her figurehead was no wolf but a dragon. She had been built by the best shipwrights of the Greater Teeth. Her timbers were of winter oak and cedar, but for the masts, which were of kauri from Quilth, and the deck, which had been made of a chance load of mahogany alleged to have originated in Yestron. She had three masts, and sails of green canvas.
Togura Poulaan, taking his ease on a sunny yet sheltered part of the deck, surveyed the work going on at hand and thanked his stars – which were the two green ones known as the Cat's Eyes – that he was not a pirate. From this vantage point, it looked too much like hard work.
Taking advantage of the fine weather, the weapons muqaddam was supervising the overhaul of armaments and muniments. He was a broad-fisted man with shoulders like an ox and a shadow like a menhir. He was bald but for a little floccus scabbing the centre of his skull. His eyes, squinting out of a sun-weathered face, were as sharp as caltrops. His tongue was as rough as pumice, and he used it industriously.
Glad to be a passenger, Togura closed his eyes and leisured out at full length on the deck. Then cloud quenched the sun; a crisp whippet of wind came cleaning around him, and, chilled and annoyed, he sat up again.
'Come back son,' said Togura. 'Go away wind.'
The wind, obedient to his commands, veered away to vanishing. But the sun remained hidden by a sulk of cloud. In the sea, something hinted through the waters. Seal? Dolphin? Whale? Rock? Togura narrowed his eyes, trying to see it more clearly. But it had gone. Perhaps it had been nothing to start with, or a chance bit of driftwood or float-stone now smothered by a wave.
Togura closed his eyes again, but was abruptly jolted into full alertness when a fight began. Looking round, he saw it was only two young pirates sparring with a lot of brag and paraffle. The weapons muqaddam, seeing their footwork looked sloppy, screamed abuse at them. They took heed, stopped fooling around and became more businesslike. They were rather good.
Togura had always imagined pirates as being lazy, leisurely beasts, loafing through the idle seas, amusing
