The Walrus and the Warwolf

Selzirk. That was seven seasons ago, man.'Yot grinned.

'Away ran a woman red in hair and skin. With her ran a blond boy with a sword at his side.'

'Who do you call boy?' said Drake, drawing blade and advancing.

Yot danced away down the hill. Drake strode after him, hot for the kill. And saw, coming uphill, a dozen soldiers on horseback. They were very close.

'Prothero!' shouted Yot. 'There's the one we're looking for! Seize him!'

Drake, for all his fitness, could not outrun men on horseback. Nor did he try.

61

Sully Datelier Yot: was High Priest of the Flame on Stokos. When Swarms attacked Stokos, lost his nerve and fled the island with a band of supporters. Has been in Estar for three seasons; has small temple within the environs of Lorford, which has a total of seventy hard-core adherents of the Flame.

The soldiers, all from Lord Blackwood's personal bodyguard, were mounted on a motley bunch of horses. Armed and armoured in a bizarre range of fashions, they looked more like a band of brigands than a military unit. They arrested Drake on the spot.'Search inside!' said Yot.The soldiers demurred.

Yot screamed in anger. He threatened them with the wrath of Lord Blackwood. With beatings, gougings, torture, starvation and crucifixion. Reluctantly, the soldiers searched the House of Health until they found Zanya.

'Kill them both,' said Yot. 'Here! Now!' But the soldiers baulked at this. So Yot said: 'Then take them to my temple.'

'You do no such thing!' said Mystrel stoutly. 'If his temple gets hands on these innocents, they'll be dead in a blink. He talks about Lord Blackwood's wrath. Well I tell you this! Lord Blackwood will have no murder done in Lorford.'

'That's right!' cried Drake. 'Why, I knew him years ago when I was Estar's resident dragon-fighter. Man, he was

right hot on due process! That means courts, trials, procedures of law, high-paid flatulence by a dozen lawyers on each side, witnesses, evidences and such. Aye, and writs of all descriptions, each casting fifty times their own weight in gold.''Shut up, you!' said Yot.

He grabbed a sword, determined to kill Drake on the spot. But soldiers confiscated the sword before Yot could strike.

'You know your danger now,' said Mystrel, lying like a trooper. 'Our young friends worked for my husband for years in days gone by. They were personal friends. Lord Blackwood will kill you if you touch so much as a hair of their heads.''She lies!' said Yot, too hoarse to scream any more.

'Boys,' said one of the soldiers, 'however you look at it, we're in a mess. Let's do nothing hasty.'

The soldiers considered their options, then did the sensible thing, and delivered both Drake and Zanya to the safety of the western gatehouse, there to be held until Higher Authority could decide their fate.

'Why, prisoners,' said the gaoler in delight, when Drake and Zanya were brought to the western gatehouse.'Is that so rare?' said Drake.

'Yes, for my masters believe in death, exile, floggings, fines or apologies, depending on the offence. Not caging people.'

'So under what authority are we held here now?' said Drake.'Why, under Master Yot's authority,' said the gaoler.'I suspect he's over-reached himself,' said Drake.

'Why, if he has, I'll gladly help you hang him,' said the gaoler, unlocking a prison cell. 'Meantimes, in you go!''First, I'd like a lawyer,' said Drake.

'Well, you're shit out of luck, young friend,' said the gaoler. 'For Lord Hearst hung every lawyer in Lorford on Midwinter's Day, by way of celebration. Come on, in you go! Don't look so jaw-fallen, it's pleasant enough within.'

Drake and Zanya went into the cell, which smelt of sandalwood. No mice, rats or roaches were in occupance: only shadows. The broad sleeping bench was draped with sheepskins which, on close examination, proved free from lice and fleas. All in all, it was, Drake had to admit, the cleanest, airiest, most comfortable prison cell he'd seen in his life. He still hated it.

Once they were locked in, Drake made Zanya comfortable and started Investigating his surroundings. A beam of light between two logs alerted him to the presence of a gap. Looking out, he saw a bit of a street.

People were gathering outside. Drake thought he saw a familiar face: the innkeeper he had so lately lodged with. The crowd was getting quite noisy. What were they saying? It was hard to tell, with so many voices shouting at once. He wished his field of vision was not so restricted.'What do you see?' said Zanya.

'A gryphon mating with a manticore,' said Drake. 'Two dragons fighting over a piece of the sun. A bald dwarf circumcising a naked giant with a very sharp hatchet. A cloud giving birth to a kitten. A man in the street selling tiny stars tied to strings, aye, and flying frogs with yellow wings.'

'What's all the noise about then?' said Zanya. 'Why, the flying frogs are chasing the stars on strings, and the stars don't take kindly to being eaten.' 'Seriously,' said Zanya.

'Seriously, I think there's some kind of market going on,' said Drake, 'with a lot of screaming from people at auction, barkers shouting, haggling over prices, bickering over weights and measures, and three dozen truncheon men trying to keep order. Certainly nothing for us to worry about.'

In truth, Drake thought that things outside were building steadily toward a riot. Doubtless, the cause of the uproar was the presence of a blue leper in Lorford. He went to sit beside Zanya. Hid his face in her hair. Nuzzled at her neck.

'Darling treasure snake,' said Zanya, as he put his arms around her. 'They're getting rather noisy outside. What is going on? Really?'

The uproar without was unpleasantly reminiscent of the riot which had ended Drake's rule of Runcorn. Stones began to thump into the side of the western gatehouse.'What is it?' said Zanya, now seriously alarmed.'Nothing, my darling,' said Drake. 'Nothing.''It's us they want, isn't it?''Hush,' he said, holding her close. 'Hush . . .'

He did his best to soothe her to sleep. Finally, she closed her eyes and slept, or appeared to. But she sat up with a start when the door was opened to admit a slender, cleanshaven man older than Drake. He wore a broad- brimmed feathered hat, and had eyes of a startling green. He looked not a day older than when Drake had first seen him on Stokos.'Arabin lol Arabin!' said the wizard Miphon.

'The same,' said Drake, with a bow, 'though I am known also as Drake Douay, as Dreldragon Drakedon Douay, as Lord Dreldragon and as Shen Shen Drax. And I have gone by other names still in my time. Indeed-'

'Enough history!' said Miphon. 'This . . . Zanya, is it not? I remember you well from Burntos.'

'As I remember you, sir,' said Zanya. 'How came you here?'

'Mystrel summoned me,' said the wizard Miphon. 'She sent a girl from her House of Health to ride forth to find me.'

'Have you come with a cure for this sickness?' said Drake.'Mystrel knows as much of cures as I do,' said Miphon.

'But she is but a woman, and you a wizard!' said Drake. 'A great wizard, if half of legend is true! Surely you with your wizardly wisdom have a cure for this pox!'

'The legends are less than one tenth true,' said Miphon. 'As I've said already-''Man,' said Drake, with a threat in his voice. 'A wizard knows more than a woman, surely. What's the cure?'

'The blood of a dragon,' said Miphon, slowly. 'That, mixed with the blood of a man is certain cure for all ills – though the cure has a cruel price. But we have no dragons in Estar. And your lady would not last the journey inland.'

So! There was a cure! The blood of a dragon mixed with the blood of a man.'Must the blood be fresh?' said Drake.

T believe,' said Miphon, 'both the dragon's blood and the human blood must be fresh.'

'And I believe we've precious little time for medical lectures,' said Zanya. 'The noise without grows by the moment.'