'That's the
'Aye,' said Burpskin, stepping back into the shelter of a tunnel.'Aren't you coming?' said Drake.'I've seen your friend once. That's enough for me.'
Drake looked dubiously at the Tarik. Was this a trap? Only one way to find out. . .
He walked through the rain, stepped onto the greasy gangplank, skidded, and almost fell. As he gained the deck, his heart was scrambling; he was panting with excitement. He strode toward the open hold.
Stout green bamboos held up a ragged brown tarpaulin in which an enormous weight of rainwater had pooled; the bamboos were bending beneath the load. Cautiously, quiet as a cockroach gliding through shadows under the threat of a hunting hammer, Drake eased himself in under the shelter of the tarpaulin and peered into the hold.
There in shivering gloom a great, sad creature sat on a pile of mouldy sacking. The creature was almost as wide as it was tall. Its shaggy black hair trailed down around the huge flaps of its ears. Its blue eyes, set amidst grey skin, looked tired and defeated. Light gleamed faintly on its downward-jutting tusks. It was King Tor.
Yes, Tor – who, by Sully Yot's account, had converted to this weird religion founded by Gouda Muck. Adherents of that faith believed Drake Douay to be the son of Hagon, the incarnation of absolute evil. So prudence dictated a retreat.
Tor looked up. He saw Drake. His nostrils flared. He came to his feet with a roar. As his head hit the tarpaulin, he thrust up with his arms. The water pooled in the tarpaulin was flung skywards. As it cascaded onto the deck, Tor roared, then shouted:
'Dreldragon! It's Dreldragon! Dreldragon Drakedon Douay!'
At his shout, men came bursting out of the cabins in the poop of the ship, and came racing down the wet, greasy deck, skidding and sliding as they came.Drake fled.
He sprinted over the water-wet deck, slipped, fell, bruised his shin, gained his feet – and ran straight into the arms of a tall broad-chested man.
Drake struggled. He tried to kick, claw, scratch, bite, butt, spit, punch and swear. But even swearing was nigh impossible with his enemy holding him so tight.
'Ease up, man,' said his captor, with something of a laugh. 'It's me.'Me? By the voice, 'me' was Heth.
Drake eased up, and looked at the face of the tall, well-built man (his hair as blond as Drake's) who was holding him now like a lover. It was indeed his brother Heth.'Heth,' said Drake. 'Oh, HethAnd began to weep with relief.
As the two brothers embraced, the rest of Tor's men gathered round. Amongst them was Levil Norkin, Drake's boyhood friend. And Oleg Douay, his uncle – the finest swordsmith on Stokos.
'Hey!' yelled King Tor, peering out of the hold. 'Come in out of the rain. Come down here – I don't want my finest fighting men dying of pernicious anaemia.'
On Stokos, it was a firmly-held belief that prolonged exposure to cold rain caused anaemia. Drake had endured so much bad weather on his adventures that he doubted it could be as destructive as Stokos thought – yet he willingly got himself out of the rain.
In long conversations with Heth, Tor and others, Drake learned of the disaster which had befallen Stokos. After Tor had converted to Goudanism, the temple of
Hagon had been destroyed. Goudanism had been made compulsory.
'It had its advantages,' said Tor. 'With the temple destroyed, the people spent little on whores and gambling. That made it much easier to collect taxes.''Aagh,' said Drake, and spat. 'Taxes!'
'Government costs money,' said Tor, 'and there's no way around it. Why, building roads alone – that's a heavy job for taxes.'
'Roads!' said Drake, with contempt, thinking he'd find much better ways to spend money if he were king.
'Roads,' said Tor, 'are necessary, look at it how you will. And they don't build themselves. Anyway – quite apart from the matter of money, the priests of Hagon had been taking more and more power for themselves. So I was glad to see them broken.''And then?' said Drake.
'Then Gouda Muck spoke madness. He said that only those born pure in flesh had rights to life. He set down codes for eyes, teeth, limbs, hands, hair and height. He declared all those not matched to his codes were evil.''And,' said Drake, 'you . . .?'
T was too tall to start with,' said Tor. 'His codes were built for humans. But I'm an ogre, and proud of it. What's wrong with being an ogre, I ask you?'
'Why, nothing,' said Drake. 'I honour ogres so greatly that I once asked to marry into your family. I'm still good to the offer, man. Where stands your daughter now?'
'My beautiful Hilda,' said Tor, 'is held prisoner on Stokos with her mother.'
And he began to weep. There are few things more lugubrious than an ogre in the depths of despair.
'Never mind,' said Drake. 'We'll rescue her. Aye. A war for Stokos! We'll win. Then chop up Gouda Muck, aye, cut him into seven thousand pieces.'
'With the help of the sea gods,' said Oleg Douay, cheerfully, 'we may well manage to do just that.''How stand things on Stokos now?' said Drake.
'After Muck made his codes,' said Heth, slowly, 'some tried to kill Tor. Others fought beside him. We lost.''Lost badly?' said Drake.'Badly enough,' said Heth.'Who rules then, on Stokos? Does Muck rule?'
'No,' said Heth. 'He's set up Sudder Vemlouf as ruler. Perhaps you've heard of him.'
'Aye, that I have,' said Drake. 'He was Muck's neighbour for year on year. I met him last in Narba, where he tried to kill me. He thinks me the son of Hagon.'
'If you are the son of the Demon,' said King Tor, through tears, 'then I'm with you all the way. Muck talks purity, but what that means is death, murder, blood, killing, the overthrow of rightful rule, the end of law, mad torture, fear, suspicion, and worse.'
'If we struck at Stokos with force,' said Drake, 'how many living there would help us?'
'Many,' said Heth. 'For many favour Muck only since they thought he'd win. If once they thought he'd lose, they'd sing different, that's for certain.'
'But before we can talk of striking,' said Oleg Douay, 'we must have strength to strike with. The gods help those who help themselves, you know.''You must,' said Drake, 'meet a man called Menator.''Who's he?'said Tor.
'He was once king in a place called Talajar, which is in the Ravlish Lands,' said Drake. 'When he lost his kingdom in war, he fled. He came to the Greaters with five ships, three hundred men and half his own weight in gold. Since then, he's been trying to persuade us pirates to a war of empire.''Why talk of yourself as a pirate?' said Tor.
'Why, man, for sake of honesty,' said Drake. 'For that's what I be, right now.'
'No,' said Tor, laying one of his immense hands on Drake's shoulder. 'You are a warlord in the armies of Stokos. You are the betrothed of my daughter, with all that that implies. I name you Lord Dreldragon; I name you heir to the kingdom of Stokos.'
Drake saw Heth grinning at him. Olegy Douay was smiling, obviously pleased. Levil Norkin gave him a clenched-fist salute. Drake felt giddy. Then, unable to help himself, he shouted his triumph to the world, with all the strength and eloquence at his command:'Wow!'
Menator swiftly came to agreement with King Tor. If Menator supported Tor in the conquest of Stokos, then Tor would give men, gold, weapons and ships to help Menator win an empire. His position bolstered by this agreement, Menator once more sought to win agreement from the pirates.
Drake was now wildly enthusiastic at the prospect of an invasion of Stokos. They would win. He would marry Hilda. And then he would find someone who knew where Zanya Kliedervaust had gone to, and he would send agents forth into the world to hunt her down then drag her back to Stokos to be his pleasure woman.
He was upset to find that, when he lobbied for King Tor, others failed to share his enthusiasm. Jon Arabin was still dead against a war of empire. Drake, who had no inkling of Arabin's religious objections to such a war, said:'Jon, you must support King Tor!'
