The Walrus and the Warwolf

not be talking so sweet and soft. And he would have hidden his name far better.

'I'd … I'd like to say thank you for saving my life,' said Zanya, regretting her earlier discourtesies.'My pleasure,' said Drake.

'We've settled who you are,' said Zanya. 'You're the son of Jon Arabin, yet a swordsmith of Stokos also. And a priest of the Flame on occasion. But – do you … do you truly believe in the Flame?''I'm not sure,' said he, giving an honest answer.'But you've been preaching the doctrines of the Flame.'

'I have,' he said. 'But living amongst pirates has. . . it's been fearful hard on occasion. To keep faith, I mean.'

'I understand,' said Zanya softly. 'I've had hard times myself, on the road between Burntos and Dalar ken Halvar. There have been times, indeed, when I thought of Gouda Muck and felt. . . but no, I'll not talk of that.''Please do!' said Drake. 'Feel free!'

So she told him how her own faith had suffered since he saw her last.

'The worst time was after my arrest in Dalar ken Halvar,' said Zanya. 'I was sentenced to death in the arena. I prayed to the Flame – but no help came.'T came!' objected Drake. 'Aye, and fought monsters!'

'Yes,' said Zanya. 'But, somehow . . . somehow you don't seem very holy. Even if you Believe, I. . . somehow I can't credit you as an instrument of the Flame . . .'

They then talked theology for some time.

Later, when Drake went for a piss, Sully Yot came sidling up to him.

'Remember,' said Yot, sotto voce, 'Gouda Muck would have us be pure.'

'Man,' said Drake, 'I'm in no shape to be thinking of fornicating. So don't worry about my purity.'

'You don't fool me!' said Yot. 'I know you've been whispering sweet nothings into that woman's ear!'

'I've been doing no such thing,' said Drake. 'We've been talking about metaphysics, aye, and the Theory of Knowledge, the problem of pain, the nature of free will and the possibility of salvation for those who pray to false gods.'

He spoke the truth. But the truth was so improbable that Yot thought him the veriest liar.

'I know you!' he said. 'You've been talking to her about sex, that's what. Sex all dressed up fancy, probably. Long discussions about the spiritual aspects of physical union.'

Once heard, this could not be forgotten. So when Drake went back to Zanya, he gently steered the conversation around to a discussion of precisely that: the spiritual aspects of physical union. He did it carefully, for he had learnt a few lessons by now.

Later still, when Drake left Zanya's side a second time, Jon Arabin followed him into the undergrowth.'Drake.''Aye?''Did she take our story all right?'

'She swallowed it solid, man,' said Drake. 'She believes I'm your son and a Stokos swordsmith both.'

'Good,' said Arabin. 'That girl's worth having. And she's hot for you. Play it for the thrust, man. You can get there tomorrow, if not tonight.''What the hell do you care either way?' asked Drake.

'I just don't want to see good meat going to waste,' said Arabin. 'And . . . Drake, there's something we have to talk about.''What?'

'Drake, I've never talked religion to you. But now's the time. I know gods, Drake, powerful gods. Aye. They've taken me through to pirate captain though all the world was against me. They're-'

'Demon's balls!' said Drake. 'Can't a man go into the bushes for a quiet shit without half the world's religions chasing after him?'

T won't take much of your time,' said Arabin. 'All I want is a little talk.'

'You're competing with diarrhoea,' said Drake, pulling down his pants. 'And you're losing!'

At that Jon Arabin retired. He would have plenty of chances in the future to convert Drake to the Creed of Anthus. There was, surely, no need to hurry.

That night, it was cold. That night, Zanya and Drake held each other close. For warmth. And, as far as Zanya was concerned, for safety. She mistrusted Drake's evil companions – Bucks Cat and Ish Ulpin in particular. She would have been terrified sleeping alone, without the protection of a fellow worshipper of the Flame.

Both woke in the deep dark, long after midnight. What had woken them? Mutual dreams of lust. Silently, they kissed. They kissed, and fingered. Then slept. And dreamt of taking their lust to its logical conclusion.

Come morning, Drake found both Yot and Arabin were onto him. Yot with lectures about purity, self-control, virtue, the teachings of Gouda Muck and the demands of the Flame. Arabin with a different message altogether, and news of the gods of the Creed of Anthus.

'Our religion teaches that we must father a man for each we kill,' said Arabin. 'Drake, my boy, you've got a lot of breeding to do. This woman is ideal!'

These intellectual assaults multiplied Drake's religious confusion.

Yot, by the very intensity of his belief, annoyed Drake beyond measure; the more Yot insisted on purity, the more Drake regretted ever having made any concessions in that direction. And Arabin, while he did not convert Drake to the Creed of Anthus, certainly managed to weaken Drake's uncertain belief in the Flame.

Zanya's own uncertainties about her faith did nothing whatsoever to bolster Drake's confidence in the Flame. Finally, he decided to reserve judgment on all religions for the time being. What was important at the moment was Zanya. And Zanya's love.

Both Drake and Zanya were well over the shocks of their recent encounters with doom, death and disaster. Their spirits were rising. Their true nature was asserting itself – and the teachings of Gouda Muck had precious little chance against that most notorious of all aphrodisiacs: prolonged propinquity.

T still don't understand,' said Zanya one evening.

'Never mind, my dear,' said Drake. 'Understanding is not essential in women.'

In answer to that she crammed a big greasy hunk of bear meat down the back of his neck, whereupon he attacked her. Once the two of them had sublimated a substantial fraction of their sexual energies by wrestling – she was a right proper handful, that one – she complained again: T still don't understand.'

Drake thought of another smart reply to that, but restrained himself. They were now several days downstream from the Old City. Hunting had been good, since Simp Fiche had shown an uncanny knack for sniffing out bears, and they had killed three already (Zanya claimed the poor creatures died of fright when they saw Whale Mike). Zanya still had plenty of bear meat on hand, and would doubtless use it unless Drake behaved himself.'What don't you understand?' said Drake.

'Why you ever use that ugly name Drake. Or Drel-dragon. Yes, I haven't forgotten – the people who adopted you on Stokos named you that. So you had no choice. But you've got a choice now. The Demon-son's name – every time I hear it, it makes me shudder.'

'It's not that bad, is it? Surely? Dreldragon Drakedon Douay. A good name, and common on Stokos – why, as common as two-headed seagulls and bird-eating rocks.''Common as what?' said Zanya.'Common as kisses,' said Drake, trying to give her one.She pushed him away.T hate the Demon-son,' she said.

'And so do I,' said Drake. 'Why, if I had him in front of me, I'd suck out his eyes then twist on his gizzard till his teeth popped out. He deserves to die. Why, just for stealing Muck's mastersword, he should die.'

'Dearest,' said Zanya, who could not follow Drake's quick-weaving pirate cant when it got into swing. 'Talk Galish slow and proper if you wish my understanding. Now – seriously. Why call yourself by that evil name when others are so much nicer? So much nicer, yet free for the taking.'

'Very well,' said Drake. 'By muckle or huckle I'll girth me loins with sunlight, eat two raw eggs then be Arabin lol Arabin forever.'

'Say what?' said Zanya, who had not understood.

So Drake said, slowly, enunciating his words carefully in his best formal Galish, the true Trading Tongue of the Salt Road instead of the pirate-garbled snatch-talk which ruled in the Greater Teeth:'E'parg Arabin lol Arabin.'

Meaning, literally, 'I bear (carry) Arabin lol Arabin' – or, in translation, 'I am called Arabin lol Arabin.'

'I will henceforth be Arabin lol Arabin single and only,' said Drake. 'I formally keelhaul the name Drake. I execute it. With Dreldragon with it. Aye. And Drake Douay. And all those other things so close to swearing.'

'P'tosh, Arabin lol Arabin,' said Zanya, greeting him with what she was happy to think of as his true and proper name, the one his father had given him at birth.

'Yes,' said Drake. 'It's only Arabin lol Arabin I'll be, from now unto death. In other words, as long as we're married for.''I never said I'd marry you!' said Zanya.'But you will, darling,' said Drake, imperiously.And that led to