Elkor Alish had chosen for him. Or so he thought at first. But when he saw those people, he despaired. They were coarse, brutal, stupid types. They spoke poor Galish and zero Churl. He complained to Alish:'Man, these people are good for nothing but knifework.'
'That's what they've been chosen for,' said Alish. 'While you attack Selzirk with the word, they bring the sword.''I'm ambassador and they're assassins?' 'Right.'
'Then let's split our missions,' said Drake. 'You send them separate to the city. As for me – I've a plan.''Tell,'said Alish.
He heard Drake out, and agreed to Drake's plan. Shortly, Drake was imprisoned with half a dozen enemy cavalry officers who had been captured when Alish and his allies.first took Androlmarphos. Like many of the more important hostages, they had been shipped to Runcorn early on for safe keeping.
'Who might you be?' asked these prisoners, when Drake was flung into their midst, bleeding heavily from the nose.
'Why, I be Drake Douay,' said Drake. 'A man of Stokos, aye, and adopted son of Plovey of the Regency, in Selzirk.''How long ago adopted?' he was asked.
'Why, but this time last year, when I saved him from drowning in the Velvet River. Hence I'm but making a start with my Churl. Since your Galish runs so fair, doubtless you can help me with work on my Churl, for I long to talk my father's tongue proper.'
Drake's lie was so close to the truth that it was near to being unbreakable. Not that the officers tried to break it, for they had no cause to be suspicious.'What in Churl do you want to learn?' they said.
'The language of sex and seduction, to staxt with,' said Drake, promptly – thinking that the fewer lies he told, the simpler life would be.So they started into lessons immediately.
On the third night of Drake's captivity, the gaolers got drunk. The prisoners seized their opportunity and overpowered the drunks. Two of the gaolers got killed in the process. This was not part of the plan, but Drake had no sympathy for them – he was developing very strong views about gaols and gaolers.
The escapers quit Runcorn, and found, outside the city, horses (complete with saddles) which were only lightly guarded. The guards did not stand and fight, but ran away. So the escapers commandeered the horses and rode hell for leather for the south.
Did they suspect that the whole thing had been engineered by Drake Douay and Elkor Alish?No, not for a moment.
For the officers, like most children of the Harvest Plains, had been raised on a brand of fairy tales in which heroes of all descriptions regularly escaped from the most daunting dungeons imaginable, not just once or twice but as many as half a dozen times in the same story.
So they thought themselves fine fellows as they galloped along, urging their horses closer and closer to the edge of death; they laughed, joked and bragged, persuading themselves their outbreak had been a regular feat of heroism.Only Drake knew better.
At daybreak, one of the horses collapsed and died. The rest were nearly ready for the knacker's yard. However, at noon, the escapers met a patrol of Harvest Plains cavalry, and were able to commandeer fresh horses. Several changes later, they entered Selzirk.
'Now,' said Drake, to the most senior officer who had ridden with him, 'get me an audience with Morgan Hearst. Immediately.''What business have you with him?'
'That which cannot be delayed. Man, get me to see him. I've no money to bribe my way through to his face. Once I'm with him, he'll be the judge of my business. He's hero enough to know if I'm wasting his time.'
The officer, too exhausted for argument, handed Drake over to the appropriate people, telling them Drake must see Hearst instantly.
51
Drake was taken into the heights of a tall and massive tower which stood in what had once been the central courtyard of an ancient wizard stronghold. He was shown into a waiting room from which he could look down on the myrmecoid activity in the streets of Selzirk. But he had no eyes for the view.
He was dismayed at the impossible queue, which included an inventor after a patron for his perpetual motion machine; a man with a gyrfalcon to sell to the hero; a designer who hoped to interest Morgan Hearst in a gaudy coat of arms (it featured, among other things, a sea-dragon naiant, a gryphon rampant, and seventeen other creatures besides). And many others.
'Sit here,' said the functionary who had brought Drake to the place, 'and wait your turn.'
But Drake would have none of that. He strode to the head of the queue and demanded admittance.'Who are you?' asked the guard at the door.
'I am Baron Farouk's nuncio,' said Drake, in a right stomachy manner. 'I come to speak with the hero.!'About what?' said the guard.'Of ships and armies, allegiance and alliance, matters of
high state and the breaking of empires. Stand aside, or I split you with my sword.'
'The weaponless should make no threats so empty,' said the guard.
'The weapon is invisible, yet kills regardless,' said Drake. 'For my father was a jinnee and my mother the worst kind of succubus. I was born in a flood of fire, born amidst thunder, suckled on blood, weaned on a whore's- egg then grown to greatness on the flesh of butchered babies. Will you stand aside, or must I doom you to death? Aye – to hell and damnation?'
'I meant no harm, my lord,' said the guard, standing aside hastily.
In days when the city was full of wild stories of weird magic, and when thousands had seen for their own eyes the powers of the death-stone, all acknowledged the existence of occult things, and Drake's bluff was more to be believed than it would have been in more sober times. Thus he gained prompt entry to the room where Morgan Hearst did business.
Hearst was seated behind a broad desk made of split bamboo. The hero was, as Drake remembered him, a tense, hard-faced man. Lean, clean-shaven, hair cropped short, eyes grey.One thing had changed.Hearst's right wrist terminated in a steel hook.'Do you speak Galish?' said Hearst, studying Drake.'Very nicely,' said Drake.'Do I. . . do I know you from somewhere?'
'No, my lord,' said Drake, unwilling to remind Hearst of how he had once run the young Lord Dreldragon out of Estar on account of crimes of theft and hooliganism.
'That's strange,' said Hearst, a puzzled look on his face. T could almost swear I'd met you before.'
Hearst's left hand held a quill pen; papers were heaped up on the desk. The absence of any clerks implied that Hearst was literate.
T see from your desk that you read and write,' said
Drake. 'Not a hero only, but a wise man as well.'
'If that's meant by way of flattery,' said Hearst, 'don't waste your breath. I've scant powers in Selzirk, whatever my reputation might say. Most of the petitioners outside my doors are wasting their time. Most probably whatever you wish to ask for is not within my grant.'
'What I ask, my lord,' said Drake, 'is for you to accept a letter from a man named Elkor Alish.''Alish?' said Hearst. 'Who's he?'
'Why, you know!' said Drake, who had expected any reaction but this.
'Tell me about him,' said Hearst. 'Tell me everything about him you've seen and heard.'
Thus began one of those long, long interrogations which Drake, by now, was heartily sick of. At the end of it, Drake cut open the lining of his jerkin and handed over both Alish's letter to Hearst and Alish's letter to Watashi.
Hearst read both, then sent a messenger to summon Watashi into his presence. Farfalla's son arrived promptly.'You!' said Watashi, on seeing Drake.
'Nay,' said Drake, 'I died at sea some many days ago. What you see here is none but my ghost.'
