The Walrus and the Warwolf

jape and a pun, the two made their way to the Eagle.

Drake knew of the Eagle, but had never been there before, since this tavern was not a criminal haunt. It was, however, definitely a low-life place, attracting all kinds of riff-raff: falconers, river oars, peddlers, jesters and beggar-masters, and, no doubt, the odd questing hero in disguise.

'Man,' said Quebec, as the pair entered. 'This champion's good, but you can top his tales.'

'Aye,' said Drake. 'I could top any tale – simply by telling the truth.''Gah! I know your kind of truth.''You don't,' said Drake. 'Or you'd believe it.'

The two pushed forward. There was a crowd around the liar, some folk standing on bar benches, so it was push and shove to get near the front. Drake shoved once too often – and was picked up by a giant-sized axeman from Chenameg and thrown bodily through the air. He crashed to ground at the feet of the champion liar.'Drax!' yelled Quebec. 'You all right?'

Lord Dreldragon (also known as Drake Douay, as Arabin lol Arabin, and as Shen Shen Drax, depending what company he was keeping) lay on the ground, winded, staring up at a most unlovely sight. A rough-smelling thug with bloodshot eyes and a black-bearded face, and a shaggy swag of filthy black hair.'An'vory!' said Drake.'You!' said Atsimo Andranovory.And he grabbed Drake in a strangle.

Fortunately, a couple of Drake's fighting-comrades were in the audience, and they separated An'vory from Drake's throat. They were all for killing the man, but the publican stopped them.

'You kill my champion liar,' warned the publican, 'and my sons will rend you limb to limb.'

The publican seemed to have a small trace of ogre in his blood. And the sons in question had a very definite touch of ogre about them. Their menace enforced a peace of sorts.'So,' said Atsimo Andranovory. 'What do you here?'

'A good question,' said Pigot Quebec. 'But I've a better question. How did my good friend Shen Shen Drax come to meet this barman? Tell us your meeting, Drax. That'll make a good story to start off with.'

'Nay, man,' said Drake. 'A mood of modesty is upon me, I can't speak today.'

But his audience gave him no choice. He was ringed with arms and faces, with knives and fists. His attempts to escape were denied, with a good-humoured roughness which might turn nasty any moment.He was trapped.

He had to speak himself in public, in front of witnesses. This was fearful dangerous! Best thing would be to kill An'vory, who was dangerous through what he knew. The blackguard would blackmail Drake for blood if he knew Drake would be killed if Selzirk learnt he supported King Tor.

How much does An 'vory know? What does he know of Selzirk and Tor? How long has he been in town? Man, this is difficult!'Cat got your tongue?' said Andranovory.

'Nay, man,' said Drake. 'I'm so astonished I'm silent, that's all. Last I knew of you, why, that was in Estar. You were in service with Prince Comedo, not so?''Aye, that's true enough,' said Andranovory.'Well then,' said Drake, 'how got you here from Estar?'

'Through wild adventures with Elkor Alish and Morgan Hearst, and others that I've been telling of,' said Andranovory.

'Oh, Hearst!' said Drake, with confidence. 'That grey-haired Rovac warrior, right?''The same,' said Andranovory. 'You knowmuch!''Aye,' said Drake.

Having said enough to give listeners such as Quebec the impression that he had known Andranovory while serving under Prince Comedo in Estar, Drake skipped away from that subject, and moved on:

'I know much of you, too, don't I? I remember serving shipboard with you. Aye, on a ship called the Walrus that was. We were trading a cargo of the skins of seals to the port of Narba. Yes. And I remember you later, put ashore from another ship for bad behaviour. That was back in the days when I were known as Drake Douay – for I've gone under more than one name in this wide world, I'll not deny it.'

'Aye,' said Andranovory. 'Drake Douay! And a pretty tale I could tell about you!' 'Tell, then!' said Drake. Hoping.

'You were born in a heap of dogshit,' said Andranovory. 'I'll tell the world that for nothing. Your mother was raped by an octopus, which explains the most of your nature.'

'Aagh, An'vory, man!' said Drake. 'You've not changed! Always were a liar. But never champion, no – I was champion. Always was, always will be. Let's listen to your tales, and I'll top them.'

'I doubt you will,' said An'vory, 'not this time. For I've walked in strangeness, man, no doubting it.'

Then Andranovory, after wasting a little more breath telling lies about Drake's ancestry and upbringing, launched into his story proper.Drake concealed his relief.He had judged his man true.

He had guessed, rightly, that Andranovory, if challenged to tell the truth about Drake Douay, would take delight in insults at the expense of facts. He had gambled and won. An'vory did not guess that he had knowledge which could be the death of Drake Douay. Did not guess that Drake had to conceal his true identity – that of Lord Dreldragon, fiance of the daughter of King Tor, and thus rightful inheritor of Stokos.

An 'vory, man. You 're as stupid a shit as ever. But perhaps you 've a nice enough story to tell. Perhaps. We '11 see.

Andranovory held forth in Galish, for he spoke no Churl. A professional street hawker gave a running translation for the benefit of any ignoramus who was not bilingual. There was many such an ignoramus in the Eagle.

Andranovory claimed, perhaps with truth, to have fought alongside two Rovac warriors in the employ of Prince Comedo – Hearst and Alish. But the rest of his story was improbable, to say the least. He told a long, wild tale about a war between Collosnon warriors and the

Rovac, in which Morgan Hearst triumphed by leading a regiment of dragons against his enemies.

Other things he spoke of were wilder still – a death-stone conjuring rocks to life and turned living men into mountains; a journey down an underground river, on which three of his comrades became pregnant ('and died giving birth, for they were men for real, and lacked the proper channel'); arrival at the Araconch Waters; the delights of the Temple of Eternal Love found on the shores of that enormous inland lake.

'Now I'm parched,' concluded Andranovory. 'So let strong drink speak to my gullet while me young mate Erhed speaks of the march inland from Araconch.'

Andranovory sat, and a weak-voiced companion of his travels and travails, an insignificant fellow named Erhed, began spinning tales of the aforementioned march from Araconch.

Erhed was less successful than Andranovory. He lacked a proper voice to start with. Worse, he was scarcely concerned with telling a tale at all – instead, he wanted to air his grievances against the Rovac warriors.

'. . . so Hearst was a hard man, you can see,' said Erhed. 'But Alish was the worst. Elkor Alish – a name of blood and terror. Man, he was hard! Smashed me over the head once. With a rock, true. Near enough to killed me.''Why did he do that?' called Drake.

'There was this dragon, see. I reckon he planned to kill me, leave me there as bait to draw the dragon away from the others. But I've a hard head, see.'

'Yes, and very little inside to get damaged,' said Andranovory.

He roared with laughter, and quaffed the last of his ale at a gulp. The barman handed him another. An'vory had been drinking hard and heavy while Erhed was weaving his way through his tale – and had drunk yet more earlier in the day.

'What happened then?' demanded Drake. 'About this dragon,I mean?''Oh, it flew away,' said Erhed lamely.'Why didn't it eat you?' said Drake.

'Because then,' said Andranovory, 'the world's ruling devil would have been put to looking for some other sludge to pox us with.'

And once more erupted into laughter. Drunk? Maybe. Drake, who had such happy memories of being drunk himself, tried not to be jealous. Tried without success.'How close was this dragon?' he asked.

'Who are you?' said Erhed. 'The Imperial Inquisitor, or what?'

Quebec seized this opportunity. He pushed a dwarf off a barstool, then stood on it.'Hey!' said the dwarf. 'Get off me!'So Quebec got onto the barstool instead.

'Gentles and toughs!' cried Quebec. 'Slow your clamour and fill your cups. We've heard enough of this Erhed fellow, who has but the single problem in life – he's no longer got his mother around to cosset his hand.'

Laughter, and generous laughter at that, from all around.

'But, seriously, folks, let me introduce my old friend Shen Shen Drax. Today I've heard he's got another name.