Zanya up and down. A strange sight she made, red hair, red skin, her face lathered with blue sores and tracked with tears, her nose still snivelling. While Jon Arabin wondered at this apparition, he judged that this was no time for stupid questions, so said only:'What is it? Make it quick!'Drake pointed at Miphon.
'The wizard Miphon,' said Drake. 'On his finger, a magic ring. The ring can take you and crew into a magic bottle. We have with us on board the death-stone. It's the same one told of in legend – the same which demolished the walls of Androlmarphos.'
'Such magic turns all about to stone,' said Jon Arabin. 'Our ship would surely sink.'
T know that,' said Drake. 'But there's a way to survive regardless. Put crew in bottle with the makings for a boat or such. Then we'll use the death-stone to kill off the Swarms. Then we can bring the timbers out from the bottle, aye, and build a raft or such in mid-ocean.'
'That,' said Arabin, 'is the weirdest thing I've heard all day.''But it will work!' cried Drake. 'It will work.'
Jon Arabin stared long and hard at Drake Douay. Then breathed heavily, and said:
'You and me, young man, we're going to sit down and have a talk when this is over. A long talk. Now where's this bottle?''Down below,' said Miphon. 'With Blackwood.' 'Then get it up here!' roared Jon Arabin.And Miphon fled.At that moment there was a great shout: 'Slaughterhouse! Slaughterhouse! Slaughterhouse!' The Swarms were attacking. En masse. 'We need time,' said Drake.
'Then get me fire,' said Jon Arabin. 'And I'll get you time, easily enough. Come on, don't just stand there! Get fire!'Drake and Zanya fled.
Shortly, Miphon reported to Jon Arabin in the company of Blackwood. The Swarms by now had seized the forecastle, and were fighting their way toward the stern. Drake and Zanya came up on deck, bearing between them a cauldron of hot coals stolen from a brazier in the kitchen.'We're here,' said Miphon. 'Now what-'He was interrupted by Drake, who yelled:'Jon! The Walrus is in the kitchen! Dead drunk!'
'I wondered where he'd got to,' said Jon Arabin – who, in fact, had been far too busy to wonder any such thing. 'Mike! Go below! The Walrus is in the kitchen! Get him up here!'Whale Mike moved to obey.Then Jon Arabin yelled:
'There's fire here! Fire the ship! Ahoy – you in the crow's-nest! Down, down, we're firing the ship!'
Rolf Thelemite had organized a double-line of men with pikes to hold the deck against the Swarms. They still had time. Just. Arabin glanced at Blackwood, who wore the red bottle knotted tight to his belt.
'That's it?' said Arabin. 'Right! You, Mr Wizard – get waterskins. Tie them to your comrade's belt. We don't want him sinking under if he's to carry us.' Then Arabin raised his voice: Tka Thole! Ish Ulpin! To me! To me with a work-party!'
Shortly, men were working furiously. They gathered up timber, and tools, and spars, and ropes, and sails. Whale Mike came up from below decks with Slagger Mulps tucked under his arm.'Drake!' screamed Yot.'What's your problem!' yelled Drake.
'You lied to me! About Zanya! About the red bottle! So you lied about Muck, didn't you? He lives, doesn't he? He was never mad, was he? You really are the Demon-son, aren't you?'
Drake did not know whether to laugh or cry. He spread his arms in helpless amazement and cried:'Man, this is no time to argue theology!''No, but it's time enough for a killing!' yelled Yot.And picked up a spear, intending to hurl it at Drake.
But Whale Mike plucked the spear from Yot's hand, and picked up Yot, and tucked him under his arm. Mike now had Yot under one arm, the Walrus under the other. Bucks Cat grabbed Mike and also grabbed Miphon. Half a dozen men, loaded with all kinds of baggage, grabbed each other. One took hold of Ish Ulpin's ear. Ish Ulpin held Bucks Cat by the neck.
And Miphon, connected by a bond of flesh to so many people, turned the ring on his finger. Whereupon Miphon and all the men, plus their baggage, were snatched away into the red bottle.Moments later, Miphon and Whale Mike rematerialized.'I want spar!' boomed Mike. 'Good spar, take inside.'
Back and forth went Miphon and Whale Mike. Each time they ventured into the bottle, they took with them more men and more materials. Blackwood stood stolidly on the deck, arms folded, sometimes giving a timely order to organize the chaos all around.
The sudden promise of physical salvation by means of the red bottle amazed most pirates not a jot. For – was not their leader Jon Arabin? They'd all secretly expected him to come up with something fancy. And this fitted the bill precisely.
While some of the crew had been gathering materials and venturing to the bottle, others had been holding the line against the Swarms, and others had been setting fire to the ship. Smoke curdled in the air. It spread in choking
clouds. The Swarms wavered as the smoke spread amongst them – then began to fall back.
'They hate smoke!' yelled Arabin. 'They're running! We're winning!'
Meanwhile, the flames leaped through the still and sullen air, swift as a band of lunatic red-jacketed monkeys driven on by a throng of rabid slave-masters wielding razor-tipped whips by way of encouragement. As the fire took hold, flames swung from sail to sail so fast the canvas seemed almost to explode. And the Swarms were truly on the run, retreating from the heat, the smoke, the crackling fury of the conflagration. Many of the monsters plunged overboard, there to drown.
Burning rope and canvas fell amongst the work parties, who swore and shouted and laboured all the harder. Some were weeping, some laughing, some dancing on the spot as they waited for Miphon to transport them inside the red bottle. They were wild, crazy, manic, joyful. They had hope! They were going to live!
'General retreat!' yelled Jon Arabin. 'Retreat to me! We're quitting the ship! Move your backsides!'
From the daze of heat, smoke and crackling flame came the last of the ship's defenders. Sweating. Bleeding. Gasping. Grinning. Miphon took them into the bottle, group by group.Finally, only these stood on the burning deck:
Blackwood, the bottle roped to his waist; Miphon, bearing the ring; Jon Arabin; Drake; Zanya; Whale Mike.Jon Arabin drew his falchion.'Give the bottle to my man Drake,' said Jon Arabin.
Upon which Whale Mike grabbed both Blackwood and Miphon. One hand round each neck. He could have killed them just by squeezing.
Blackwood unknotted the red bottle and passed it to Drake, who swiftly tied it to his own waist. Jon Arabin glanced around quickly. The air was trembling with heat. He was sweating. Somewhere, burning wood broke with a sharp crack. Beyond the flames he could see a handful of hell-creatures writhing in death.
'Now, the death-stone,' said Jon Arabin. 'Give it to me!''No,' said Miphon.'I'll kill you!' said Jon Arabin.
'Blackwood,' said Miphon. 'Blackwood has the death-stone.''This is true?'said Jon Arabin.Blackwood nodded.'Then give it to me!' said Arabin.
'Jon,' said Drake. 'It's no good grabbing the death-stone. I've tried that. There's writing on it. The writing gives a spell which commands the death-stone. You have to hold the death-stone, then say the spell.'
Jon Arabin was literate. But he knew well that any wizard-spell would be written in the High Speech, which he could neither speak nor read.'The spell!' demanded Jon Arabin.
'The spell,' said Miphon, promptly, 'is
Miphon was lying. These words had no power whatsoever: they simply meant, in the High Speech of wizards: stochastic, phenomenological, epistemological.
'Run that past me again,' said Jon Arabin, a puzzled look on his face.Miphon did so.
But it was no good: such long words could never be learnt in moments.
A burning spar crashed to the deck, scattering blazing coals. A wave of heat washed across their sweating faces. The air filled momentarily with choking smoke, then cleared, leaving them coughing, eyes watering.
'Mr Wizard,' said Jon Arabin, deciding. 'We'll learn the ways of the death-stone later. For the moment, you'll give Blackwood the ring. Blackwood will take us inside the red bottle. You'll stay within with me, as a hostage. Then
Blackwood will return to the deck to command the death-stone against the Swarms.'
Reluctantly, Miphon gave Blackwood the ring which commanded the red bottle,'Let's go,' said Jon Arabin.
And grabbed Zanya. Then took hold of Whale Mike, who had still not released either Miphon or Blackwood. Then Blackwood turned the ring on his finger – and all five were sucked into the red bottle which was now tied to
