themselves with wine and women until the opportunity for pillage aroused them from their sport. Now, after only a brief acquaintance with the breed, he knew the reality was altogether different.
There was wine aboard, true, but it was rationed – a gill per man per day, which was next to nothing. There were women somewhere below deck – not that Togura had seen them – but the woman ration was stricter still. Most of the day was spent in work, maintenace, exercise and training. The Warwolf was a taut, sober, workmanlike ship, captained by the stern, ascetic Jon Arabin; there was no laybaout nonsense here.
If Togura had ever had the misfortune to sail on Draven's ship, the Tusk, then he would have found a state of affairs rather closer to his imaginings – which was the main reason why the Tusk had been smashed on the coast of Sung, the crew butchered by the local populace, and the wreckage looted, while the Warwolf rode out the storm with matchless aplomb.
As the sun came out again, Togura dozed down to the deck and relaxed. For the moment, he had no worries. This ship, its mission urgent, had no time to call at Larbster Bay on this leg of its journey. Instead, it would take him all the way to the distant island of Ork, then drop him at Larbster on the return voyage. For the time being, all he had to do was eat, sleep, and enjoy the sun at the end of summer.
With all his difficulties thus comfortably postponed, it was pleasing to toy with the idea of being a questing hero. Once he finally got from Larbster Bay to Estar, he would most certainly have a look at the monster in Prince Comedo's Castle Vaunting. He would then be able to decide whether he should attempt to recover the box which held the index.
He remembered back to the days when he had lived in the stronghold of the Wordsmiths in Keep. Brother Troop had talked about the box, which held the index which could control the odex. Aasked what the index looked like, he had answered:
'When you open the box, you'll know. Remember, it speaks the Universal Language.'
Togura, daydreaming, imagined himself performing desperate heroics and recovering the vital box. It would open at a Word. And the Word was?
– Konanabarok?
– Yaradoshek?
– Slonshenamenel?
No, it was nothing like that. It was something else, but, for the life of him, he could not remember what. For a moment, he panicked. Then he relaxed. There was no need for him to remember how to command the box. All he had to do was get it to Keep. The Wordsmiths would do the rest.
It would be easy.
Or would it?
After all, there was not just Castle Vaunting's monster to deal with. If he slew the monster, that in itself would not be enough to give him the box which held the index, or the box was at the bottom of the bottle. Togura tried to remember Brother Troop's instructions for getting into the bottle, but could not. All he could remember was Brother Troop saying:
'The box itself lies as the very bottom of the bottle, and is Guarded… which means there's death waiting nearby.'
Remembering this talk of death made Togura once more doubt the wisdom of being a questing hero. He decided to procrastinate his decision until he reached Estar, which would not be for many days yet: there was no hurry.
A shadow blocked out the sun. Togura opened his eyes and saw a fair-haired young pirate looking down at him. The pirate, who was unarmed, was wearing a woolen shepherd's rig and rope-soled shoes.
'What are you staring at?' said Togura.
'Nothing that catches my fancy,' said the youth. 'They told me you were a manhunter, so I thought you'd be something special. But you're not.'
Togura wondered whether to take offence, then decided against it. The doughty little pirate was a tough, nuggety piece of work. Togura might have trouble handling him if it came to a scuffle.
'Tell me, for you're the expert,' said Togura, venturing a little flattery, 'what's that island over there?'
And he pointed at a high-rising island some distance off. Its coast was 'walled round with bronze,' as the pirate idiom had it – that is to say, it had a rugged, iron-bound coast.
'That?' said the youth. 'We name him Drum. That's – '
He broke off as the ship shuddered as if something had struck it. There was instant alarm on board. Men rushed to the side and peered overboard. Shouts rang out as deck queried crow's nest.
'What was it?' said Togura.
'Sharbly we grounded a whale,' came the laconic answer. 'No worry. It's gone, and us, we're not drinking.'
At that moment, the ship lurched hideously. Togura was sent sliding. As he clung to the deck rail, he saw something rising up out of the sea. Up, up it came, ascending in blue-green coils.
'Snake!' said the pirate.
Its jaws leered toward them, as if it would strike, then it dipped down into the sea again. It was indeed like a snake, except that it was three times the length of the ship and had the girth of a bullock.
'There's another!' cried Togura.
There were two – no, three… four! five!… there were six sea serpents in the waters around them. Togura heard Jon Arabin, the ship's captain, bellowing orders. Shortly he heard wails and screams as the ship girls were brought up on deck. Fighting and biting, they were dragged to the stern and thrown overboard. They thrashed round in the water, screaming. Blood foamed on the waves as the sea serpents ravaged them.
'That's murder!' said Togura, shocked.
The young pirate gave a twisted grin.
'Them or us,' he said. 'Which would you prefer?'
'Well…'
It was indeed a difficult question.
Jon Arabin gave another order. And the weapons muqaddam grabbed Togura and started to drag him to the edge of the deck.
'This is a joke, yes?' said Togura.
The weapons muqaddam made no answer.
'A joke? Understand?' said Togura desperately. 'A joke?'
They were now very close to the edge.
'Draven!' screamed Togura, sighting his friend at last. 'Stop him!'
'Sorry, boy,' said Draven, advancing at a casual saunter. 'This isn't my ship. I've got no authority here. So enjoy your swim.'
'I can't swim!' screamed Togura.
A lie – but he thought it worth trying.
He locked his hands round the stern rail, and, struggling vigorously, managed to kick the weapons muqaddam in the guts. His enemy did not even grunt.
'Did you hear me?' screamed Togura. 'I can't swim!'
'Bait doesn't have to swim,' said Draven, grabbing hold of Togura's flailing feet. 'Give my regards to the chiefest of serpents.'
'Don't do it! Please!' begged Togura, as he lost his hold on the stern rail. 'Draven, help me!'
'Heave ho!' said Draven, cheerfully.
They gave him the old heave ho, and over he went. Arms and legs flailing, he tumbled through the air. He hit the sea awkwardly with a crash, a shock of cold water, and a blunt, ugly pain, as if someone had rammed his rectum with an iron bar. The impact drove him deep.
Momentarily stunned, lost to all knowledge of his place, time and name, he struggled for the light. Breaking the surface, he gasped for air. A slip-slop wave slapped him in the face. He remembered what was happening. A shrill whinny of terror escaped him. He thrashed at the water as if having a fit.
'No no no,' moaned Togura, drawing his legs up to try and stop anything from biting them.
Another wave slapped him harshly, cutting off his moans. Blinking away the stinging salt of the sea, squeezing a web of water from his eyes, he dared to look around. He could see no women. No sea serpents.
