back on, and, by the time he had gone through that rigmarole, had nerved himself up to act. Draven would doubtless be furious to find that Togura had kept the capture of the ring secret from him, but the green bottle was alleged to have all kinds of food and other good things inside, and that, with luck, would mollify the angry pirate.
'Draven,' said Togura.
'What?' said the pirate.
'I've got something to show you,' said Togura, taking him by the arm as if to lead him somewhere.
And, his arm linked with Draven's, Togura turned the ring on his hand. A moment later, they were in -
A green chamber, not very well lit.
'Blood's grief!' cried Draven, shocked.
A moment later, something in the shadows by a jumble of empty barrels sat up. It was a man. A warrior!
'Hold fast!' shouted the warrior, drawing his sword.
Draven drew back to meet the challenge. And Togura turned the ring again – and was back out on the sands.
He blinked at the light, gasped, shuddered. That was close! It had never occurred to him that there might be someone already in the bottle. And where there was one, there might be a dozen.
What now?
If he went back in, he might well be killed by the guard or guards inside. If he stayed outside, he might well die of cold and hunger. He looked around. The tide was beginning to go out; the wind was still blowing strong and chill, sending eager little waves scrabbling up the beach.
Togura set off at random, determined to walk until he dropped, hoping that he would find shelter before he dropped. He was rewarded; at mid-morning he came upon a derelict little cottage with a little smoke rising from its ramshackle chimney. There was no door; Togura walked right inside. An old man tending the little fire turned and stared at him with sharp, bright eyes.
Togura cleared his throat.
'Good morning,' said Togura, lamely.
'A rather cold wet miserable morning, if I'm not mistaken,' said the stranger. 'Here's a blanket. Get out of those wet clothes and wrap yourself up in it.'
Togura obeyed.
'Here,' said the stranger, opening a leather bag. 'Here's breakfast. What have we got? Black bread. One boiled egg. Some dried fish. I wish she wouldn't give me that horrible salty-shrivelled muck, still, if you're hungry you'll eat it.'
'Are you sure…'
'Am I sure of what? Am I sure I can spare it, you mean? Of course I can. I don't live here, you know! I'm a little richer than this. I'm just here to check on the property, Skyhaven we call it, my uncle's place till he died. My name's Gezeldux. And yours?'
'Togura,' said Togura. 'Togura Poulaan.'
Gezeldux asked no further questions until Togura had eaten. Then, bit by bit, he heard the whole story. By the time Togura had finished telling his tale – Gezeldux was an inquisitive old man, and a diligent interrogator – it was evening.
'You know,' said Gezeldux, when Togura had finished, 'I think you may have done better than you think.'
'How's that?' said Togura.
'Why, if there's any such thing as a Universal Language, it has to be music. Get that triple-harp of yours to Keep, and, three crowns to half a pickle, it'll bring your odex to order.'
'You mean I've found it? I've found the index?'
'Go. Try. See.'
'But how do I get to Sung?' wailed Togura.
'Any boat can stretch across to Sung, no problem. Now rest. Sleep. You're overwrought. Sleep deep, and tomorrow we'll walk back to Brennan.'
So Togura slept, and Gezeldux, an honest and honourable man, made no move against him, that night or after.
Chapter 43
Keep!
To Togura, it looked small – he no longer thought of it as a city – but marvellous.
'Oh frabjous little town!' cried Togura.
Gaining its narrow little streets with their sloping-slanting rickety-arthrickety buildings, Togura did a dance of triumph.
'Yip yip!' he shouted. 'Hurrah! Callooh! Callay! Skray skray! Oh Halloo-Schlag! Jeronimo!'
These exultations came to an abrupt end when someone at an upper-storey window emptied a bucket of dirty water over him. Muttering dire imprecations, Togura stalked away.
He was still somewhat damp when he stalked into the Wordsmiths' compound.
'Take me to Governor Troop,' said Togura grandly.
'And who might you be?' said the servitor he had confronted, looking him up and down.
'Togura Poulaan,' said Togura, boldly. 'Sword-master, death-dealer, dragon-tamer and questing hero extra- regular, extra-provincial and extraordinary. And, by the by, a wordmaster in this organisation. So take me to Troop, my good man, or you'll be knucklebone soup in no time.'
'Don't play the red cockerel with me, young strop,' said the servitor, who was bigger and older than Togura. 'We all know about Togura Poulaan. His brother Cromarty paid out good gold for his body's wreckage some six moons back. I saw the muck and mess myself.'
Togura promptly punched the fellow, knocking the wind out of him. It must be noted, with regret, that close acquaintance with the Orfus pirates had caused a certain deterioration in Togura's grasp of the finer points of etiquette.
'It's half-brother, snot-head,' said Togura, as the servitor doubled up, gasping. 'I'm back from the dead, alive and breathing – which is more than you'll be, unless you come to order, pronto.'
Very shortly, Togura was in the presence of Governor Troop.
'Who are you?' said Troop, surveying the stranger in front of him – a hard-faced young man with a scarred nose and a raggedy beard.
'I,' said Togura, 'am Togura Poulaan, also known as Barak the Battleman and as Forester. I am, in case you don't remember – '
'Why, boy, of course, of course!' said Governor Troop, rising, beaming, taking him by the hand. 'How foolish of me! Our questing hero! You've found the index, have you?'
'Not so fast!' said Togura, keeping hold of the Governor's hand, and squeezing it a little, trying to feel the bones through the fat.
'We have a problem?' said Governor Troop, twisting free. 'Why, my boy, I'm sure we can easily sort things out. Sit down and have a drink.'
'We don't have time to drink,' said Togura grimly. 'My men are waiting for me to return with news of satisfaction.'
'Your men?' said Governor Troop.
'My hand-picked killing guard,' said Togura, bluffing without a blush. 'They're waiting out in the wilds. The rest of my legions, of course, are still on the Lesser Teeth.'
'Your legions?'
'Don't look so startled, man!' shouted Togura. 'It's near enough to three years since I left here. Three years of world-wandering, of challenges, courage-tests, heroic deeds. Is it any wonder I've got a following? I've foughts dragons. I've killed men in combat, my hands armed or empty. I've commanded troops in the Harvest Plains. I've – '
