The Walrus and the Warwolf

skin like an extra set of warts, the first person he recognized was Drake. Who promptly drew his sword.

'Belay that!' said Jon Arabin, with anger in his blue-sky eyes. 'Sheath that blade on the instant!''I'll see Yot dead first,' snarled Drake.

Upon which Yot swooned, thumping to the deck like a derelict sack of potatoes.'You kill him, and you die yourself,' said Jon Arabin.

Seeing the Warwolf was serious, Drake reluctantly sheathed his sword. He then argued strenuously for the immediate lynching of Sully Yot.

'He's useless meat,' said Drake. 'We've got ballast enough already.'

But both Walrus and Warwolf refused to countenance such execution. Both felt they had seen far too much pointless death in the last few years.

'He's an old shipmate of ours,' said Jon Arabin. 'You can't kill him off just like that!''He stole that magic star- globe from the rest of us when

we were in the Penvash Peninsular,' said Drake.

'Aagh, that's ancient history,' said the Walrus. 'And if we're to speak of stealing, what about that tinder-box? Anyway, that ball of stars was no good to anyone. All it did was open a Door from one place of horror to another – and who'd care to chance such a second time, having survived it once?''I've – I've personal quarrels with Yot,' said Drake.

'Then you'll not settle such quarrels aboard the good ship Dragon,' said Jon Arabin. T charge you with the care, comfort, safety and security of Sully Yot. Punishment, if you fail, will be unlimited!'

Arabin followed this order with specific instructions. Amongst other things, he warned Drake not to let Yot fall overboard at night while sleepwalking, eat poison, fall on knives, tumble down a companion-way, or accidentally strangle himself.'If he dies,' said Jon Arabin, 'I'll know who killed him!'

Thus it was that when Yot regained consciousness, the first thing he saw was Drake Douay leaning over him. Yot lay helpless, staring up at him. What was the most vicious, crippling thing Drake could say? He thought swiftly, then said it:'Gouda Muck is dead.''What?' said Yot.'Dead,' said Drake. 'Muck. He's dead.' 'You always did tell a good lie,' said Yot. And fainted.

When Yot came round, Drake started on at him again. 'Muck really is dead, you know. He was mad. Here, drink this.'

So saying, Drake fed Yot some tepid broth. They were in Jon Arabin's master-cabin, which had been temporarily reserved for the invalid. Yot had been almost dead when rescued from the Gaunt Reefs.

While feeding Yot, Drake spun a long and involved tale about the madness of Gouda Muck, and about Muck's death. This part of his story was true. Slowly, as detail gathered on detail, Drake saw despair register in Yot's eyes. Yot believed. For Drake's account of Muck's final madness made sense in the light of Muck's life.

Strangely, while telling the history of Muck's last days, Drake felt his anger subside. Muck had been mad, true. So who could rightly hold his actions against him? Yot had always been sane, of course – but feeble-minded. Could Yot help it if he had a brain as soft as stinking cheese? And they had been friends, of a sort, in the years of their apprenticeship . . .

'No doubt you'd also like to hear,' said Drake, 'about the death-stone and the magic red bottle and such.'

'Nothing,' said Yot weakly, 'could be further from my mind.'

'We know each other too well to be believing that,' said Drake. 'The truth is that Morgan Hearst lost his temper with Blackwood and Miphon when we were all beseiged together in the western gatehouse of Lorford . . .'

Thus Drake began telling a pack of total untruths. He made Yot believe that Hearst had seized the death- stone and the red bottle before parting company with Miphon and Blackwood.

'Then I guessed wrong,' said Yot. 'I guessed where you'd go – that part I got right.'

'Yes,' said Drake, 'yes, you did well to guess the first part.'

'But I also thought… I also thought you'd have bottle and death-stone with you. So I chanced my life for nothing . . .'

'Never mind,' said Drake. 'It's all over now. We're to be friends.''We are?' said Yot. 'Aye,' said Drake.

He almost hoped that this was true. In any case, he would be safer if Yot thought of him as a friend.

With Yot slowly convalescing on board, the Dragon proceeded south.With her lean, long lines, the Dragon was a fast ship, and a wet one. The deck was a slather of spray and water in seas where the old Warwolf would have been near enough to bone-dry.

A day after they had cleared the Gaunt Reefs, they became embroiled in a two-day tussle with the tail-end of a cyclone. As the ship pitched and heaved, Drake was heartily glad that Zanya was safe in the red bottle, where – or so report had it – the horizons were always stable no matter how much the bottle was shaken.

Drake spent much of the storm in the cabin with Sully Yot, going over the details of Muck's final madness time and time again. Each time he told the story, his attitude to Muck softened.

'Aye,' said Drake, one day of storm. 'I remember the day when I was to be thrown to the sea beyond Stokos. Muck came to the waterfront to see me off. Brought clothes for me. Trousers, aye, and a jersey of greasy wool. That was before his madness set in. Likely those things saved my life – so I can't hold too much against him.'

'We've . . . we've been through a lot together,' said Yot.'Aye,' said Drake. 'In Penvash and all. . .'And nostalgia claimed them as the storm worsened.

After the Dragon had survived the storm-weather, the days smoothed out nicely as she sailed for the south. She kept well clear of the coast, but a silt-brown discoloration told when she was abeam of Androlmarphos and the Velvet River _v

Further south, the crew sighted a smudge on the eastern horizon. Jon Arabin averred that the smudge was the western coast of Stokos. Drake gazed on it for a long time, thinking of his mother, his father, his brother Heth. There were tears in his eyes when he turned away.

'Why are you crying?' said Yot, happening upon this scene of homesickness.'Man,' said Drake, T was thinking of Zanya.''Why so?''When we reached Anvil,' said Drake, 'she decided she could live no longer with the blue leprosy. She cut her throat. Aye, like my sister did on Stokos.''I'm . . . I'm sorry to hear that,' said Yot.

Drake, to his amazement, found himself believing Yot was truly sincerely sorry. Drake's news of the madness of Gouda Muck had knocked most of the religious nonsense out of Sully Yot. Near-death on the Gaunt Reefs also seemed to have changed the man. Maybe they could be true friends for the future. It was unlikely, but:Improbabilities are not impossibilities.

Three nights later, Drake was standing watch on a clear and cloudless night. The ship was heading south in an easy swell, airing along with all sail set and a light wind coming from the east.

The light winds meant their speed was less than dazzling. Even so, by Jon Arabin's calculations they were now entering the Drangsturm Gulf; Narba, or the ruins of Narba, should be somewhere out in the night, about fifty leagues to larboard.

Drake was steering. The weather was so steady he felt he could just about have lashed the wheel and left it. However, he had two youngsters on this watch, Zim and Krane, both sixteen years of age, and senseless. Drake was determined to set an example.These teenagers!

They were thoughtless, reckless, idle and irresponsible. What was worse, they thought they knew it all. And they were cheeky into the bargain! Unlike Drake, they had never had to man the rigging in a howling storm; they had never made a bluewater voyage to Hexagon and back; they had never been shipwrecked in the Penvash Channel.

What they needed was a hard master like Gouda Muck to kick them into shape. Yes. Perhaps he should talk it over with Jon Arabin. They could set up an apprenticeship to get these would-be pirates whipped into line.

Right now, Zim and Krane were sitting on the deck having a regular chin wag. Drake wondered what he could do to stir them up. Send them down to the kitchen, yes, to bring up some soup. Because-

Drake's train of thought was broken as the ship shuddered. They had struck something!'Rocks!' shouted Zim, grabbing for the wheel.

Drake hit him fast and hard with a rabbit punch, then gave him a push which sent him reeling away.

'Man,' said Drake, firm in control of the wheel once more, 'you grab stupid like that again, and I'll give you a leathering. I've the helm, aye, and the head to manage it.'

The ship was still running along nicely. The wind was the same, and the swells as regular as ever. Drake