The Walrus and the Warwolf

A shadow jumped onto Mike's shoulder'. A ghost? A demon? No – a cat. Slowly, Mike turned his head until he was staring the cat in the face. Was he going to bite it? Eat it? Tear it apart and gullet it raw?

As Drake watched, Whale Mike kissed the cat. That settled it! The man had to be soft in the head!

Footsteps thumped over the deck above. A voice called down the companion-way which led down into Mike's all-purpose cabin.'Mike?''Yol'said Whale Mike.

'We're bringing the water aboard. Can you give us a hand?''No problem,' said Mike.

The cat jumped from Mike's shoulder as he stood up. Though he was more than twice Drake's height, his head did not quite touch the ceiling. He must be very important to rate so much space. But of course – when there was a battle to fight, or an anchor to pull up, or a monster to kill, Mike must be the ideal person for the job.

When Mike left, Drake began to explore. The cat – perhaps it was psychic – immediately hid.

'Puss puss puss,' said Drake, trying to tempt the cat into kicking range.The cat prudently stayed hidden.

Drake examined Whale Mike's scrimshaw. The whale's tooth was being worked into a representation of the writhing bodies of a dozen naked men and women. It was obscene. Fascinating. And very delicate. Done with great skill.

'He must've stolen it off someone,' muttered Drake. T hope he doesn't wreck it trying to finish it.'

He heard heavy feet and profound thumps up above as barrels of water were brought on board the Walrus.'I must be crazy,' said Drake.

Stowing away on the Walrus at risk to his life – yes, maybe he was a bit crazy. How would he explain himself to Slagger Mulps on the morrow? Perhaps he could ask

Whale Mike to hide him here for the entire voyage. No. That was too dangerous. Mike might get sick. Or die. Or fall overboard. Or the ship might flood. Or sink. There were a thousand ways in which he might be discovered.

He would have to win over Slagger Mulps. Get protection from Mulps. But . . . what if Mulps once again handed him over to Atsimo Andranovory? Drake remembered Andranovory demanding a suck. Having him hauled into the sky on a rope. Remembered his long agony as he swung from the end of the rope . .

Drake poked amongst the casks and cases, looking for something to eat. The air was heavy with the smells of onions, smoked seal, hams, dried fish, herbs and spices. He cut himself a bit of ham. Chewed it slowly.Perhaps Tor means to get me killed.

King Tor was strange. Sometimes he seemed to have perfect confidence in Drake. Other times, doubt ruled his mind, demanding that he set Drake tests.

Maybe he's one of these people who's not sure of his own mind. Maybe. He's not much of a leader, perhaps.

Jon Arabin never changed his mind like that.. Yet, even so, circumstances had brought about a change in Drake's relationship to Arabin. There was every chance he might end up as an enemy.

And Slagger Mulps . . . man, I've got to make friends with him. Now that's crazy. Wild.Yet not impossible.

The lamp flickered, and went put. Drake stood in the darkness, trying to orientate himself. Where was his bed of sacks? With hands extended like the feelers of an insect, he began to explore the night. Barked his shin against a crate, and hissed. Something hissed back at him. What?! Oh – only the cat, of course . . .

Drake found the mess of sacking where he was to sleep, and settled himself down. Brooding on his future. To become a friend of the Walrus? An enemy of the Warwolf? It was all too possible.

He lamented the instability of human relationships.

Life would be so much easier – and so much safer! – if one kept the same set of friends and enemies for a lifetime. At least he could be sure of Heth. Blood, that's the stuff. Family.

He bitterly regretted being parted from Heth. He wished he was back on the good ship Tarik. Would he see Heth again? Why, of course he would. At journey's end . . .

Drake heard a thump of boots coming down the com-panionway. Suppressed laughter. Who was that? Not Whale Mike, by the sound of it. Smaller people. Two of them? Maybe three.'Gragh!' said a gutteral voice.Then hawked. Then spat.'The grimby cludge keeps a lantern lit, mostly.''Andranovory?'We'll manage.'

A tight, confident, well-controlled voice. Clear. Sharp. Ish Ulpin? Possibly . . . Sounds of collision. 'Malskok!' A chuckle.

'Oh, An'vory, man! You're so much fun when you're happy!'

That, unless Drake was very much mistaken, was Bucks Cat.

'Here's a cask,' said Andranovory. Muffled fumbling. Happy splash of liquor running into – a crock? Bottle? Mug? 'A toastA clink of mugs in the night.'A toast to what?' said Bucks Cat.

'Victory,' said Ish Ulpin. 'We'll play this Menator's games for now, but when we're ready . . .''Throats open,' said Andranovory.

'Oh man, oh yes,' crooned Bucks Cat. 'I'll slice the little one myself. Imagine – him as king?'All three laughed.

Drake began to sweat. He knew exactly who those three were talking of. Just his luck! He remembered how Bucks Cat and Ish Ulpin had forced him into the sea, a horizon away from Stokos. They were true killers. They would abolish him without a moment's hesitation. If they caught him.

Someone touched Drake. On the buttock. He almost screamed. Then realized it was only the cat. The cat began to crawl onto him. Ugh! What's the difference between a cat and a rat? More fur and a thicker tail, that's all. . .

'There must be stronger stuff than this,' said Andranovory.

'Sure to be,' agreed Ish Ulpin. 'But we'd have Ockle's luck searching by dark.'Ockle? Ockle's luck? What the hell did that mean?

'Oh man,' said Bucks Cat, with a chuckle. 'I thought you would've worked it out by now. The stove's still hot. One is, anyway.'

Movements in the dark. What? Hiss of – pain? Anger? Someone finding a hot stove the hard way, maybe. Sound of cloth tearing. For what? To wrap around fingers for handling a hot stove, perhaps. Protest of metal. A stove door? Opening? Gleam of red coals. Flare of flame. A twist of cloth bursting into light. Flames rising to reveal-

'The lantern,' said Ish Ulpin, as the twist of cloth in Andranovory' s fingers burnt itself out. T've found the lantern. Give me another light, I'll get it going.'The lantern would reveal everything.

Drake grabbed the cat – which could not have been psychic after all, or it would have understood its danger.He flung it through the night.

A scream. A shout. A prolonged yowl. A furious seething hissing and spitting. Several obscenities.' Hey!' said a familiar voice.' What going on down there?''We'rejustleaving,' said Ish Ulpin.

'Oh, you leave all right,' said Whale Mike, clambering down into his private domain. 'Who this?''Let go of my beard!''Oh! An'vory! Walrus, he speak to you three times already. You drink too much. You drinking now, that not so? You stay out of here. And what you do my cat? She not happy. I hear that.''Your crazy cat attacked us,' said Ish Ulpin.

'That not so,' said Whale Mike. 'That cat not stupid. You step on her, maybe. Who this?''This is me, Bucks Cat.'

'So you've got all three names now,' said Ish Ulpin. 'There's nobody else down here. If you want to play the child and tell the Walrus, you know what names to give him.'

'This not child stuff,' said Whale Mike. 'This serious. There only so much food, only so much drink. We got long way travel.'

'You talk like a sheep-shagging schoolmaster,' grumbled Andranovory.

'What you know about schoolmaster?' said Whale Mike. 'You from Lorp. They got no school there. This serious matter.'

'Okay, okay, it's serious,' said Bucks Cat. 'We got the message. How about letting go before you break my arm?'Mike obliged.

Ish Ulpin, Bucks Cat and Andranovory quit the hold in a hurry. Whale Mike lit the lantern from the stove, nodded at Drake, then tempted his cat into his arms for comfort.'What they do to my cat?' he said.

'Andranevory got hold of it,' said Drake. 'He was going to push it into the stove.'

'Oh, that just like An'vory,' said Whale Mike. 'He not so good. He drink too much.'