The Wicked and the Witless Read online

'It's true,' said Jarl, wearily.

  And explained.

  Jarl's men had finally got the material they needed to blackmail Qolidian. Then they had explained to Qolidian that he had but two choices: to commit suicide or to throw in his lot with them.

  Unfortunately, Qolidian had a third option.

  He had taken it.

  He had accepted bribes from Elkor Alish, had arranged for the garrison to be poisoned, and had helped the foreign marauder invade the city from the sea.

  'I was the first person out of 'Marphos,' said Jarl. 'I took a string of horses and I rode. Three drowned in river crossings, two dropped dead beneath me — but I got here. I'm the first to bring the news to Selzirk. And you're the first to hear.'

  'I don't understand,' said Sarazin. 'How could Alish come by the ships to move an army? Spies suggest—'

  'The pirates are in on it too,' said Jarl, bluntly. 'Alish is in league with the Orfus pirates of the Greater Teeth. That's where the ships come from, there's no secret about that.'

  'He's doomed himself!' said Sarazin. 'We'll take the death-stone and trash his army in an instant.'

  'And trash 'Marphos as well?' said Jarl. 'Would your mother permit that? Alish has the whole city as hostage. This business will not be swiftly settled. But we must make a decision — and swiftly.'

  'What decision?' said Sarazin.

  'Do you not see it?' said Jarl, so weary he was almost weeping. 'All hopes of conspiracy are gone. Power is no longer split between kingmaker and Regency. Your mother has won that battle in her own right. If we could have won 'Marphos we could have had a chance. But as it is . . .'

  'We could throw in our lot with Alish,' said Sarazin drily.

  Yes!' said Jarl, with sudden fervour. 'I didn't think you'd be game to do it, but that's it, yes, that's the way.'

  'I was joking!' protested Sarazin. 'Fight with Alish? When Selzirk holds the death-stone? That's craziness.'

  'Then I really have failed,' said Jarl, his voice flat. 'I thought I'd taught you some fighting spirit, but I was wrong. You haven't got what it takes. You never will have. You're a disappointment to me — and, I warrant, to Lord Regan.'

  Jarl turned to go.

  Wait!' cried Sarazin, in anguish. 'How can you say something like that? I tried, didn't I? I won Chenameg, didn't I? If only for a day! Don't go! Don't leave me! I — I—'

  Wordlessly, he clutched at Jarl.

  But Jarl shook him off, and left.

  And was never again seen in Selzirk.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Soon preparations for war began in earnest. And this was like nothing in Sarazin's experience. For it was not a matter of sending away one or two thousand men to fight some- where beyond the horizon. This was the mobilisation of an entire nation for a war to the death.

  Morgan Hearst was unlike Thodric Jarl in many ways. For a start, Hearst was very tense — as if he were on the edge of a nervous breakdown. He was labouring under an immense mental burden, and he was very, very bitter. That Sarazin saw easily, though he could not decipher the source of the bitterness.

  But, in some ways, Hearst was exactly like Jarl. He had the same habit of command, the same ruthless style, and gave the same impression of being extremely danger- ous. What's more, when Hearst commanded, men obeyed.

  Sarazin, knowing he could never hope to command the same obedience himself, was intensely jealous. This was the day of Selzirk's greatest danger. And Sean Sarazin was doing nothing for the city: instead, this foreign adventurer was winning all the glory.

  After a lot of hard thought, Sarazin came up with a little scheme which he personally thought brilliant. He proposed that Drake Douay be brought from his dungeon and sent to 'Marphos to offer Alish safe conduct and a massive bribe if he surrendered. This might just work. And, even if it didn't — Sarazin would feel safer with a potential assassin out of the city.

  To Sarazin's surprise, Plovey supported this scheme, and it was eventually put into practice. But Alish made no reply to this overture, and Douay did not return to Selzirk.

  Meanwhile, Hearst carried on organising for war.

  His performance was impressive indeed.

  Until the day when he made a reconnaissance of the plain to the north of Androlmarphos, where he planned to fight Elkor Alish. Despite Jarl's predictions, Farfalla had proved ready to have the death-stone used against Androlmarphos. But Hearst, for inscrutable reasons of his own, had refused to employ that devastating magic. So the two armies would meet without the benefit of magic.

  This was ideal cavalry country, and Alish was known to have plenty of horses. But, to Sarazin's dismay, Hearst had no grasp of cavalry tactics whatsoever. Sarazin tried to help the Rovac warrior, but Hearst declined the enlightenment so readily offered, refusing to admit his own ignorance.

  Thus, as the day for battle approached, things looked to be shaping up for a regular disaster.

  All too soon, the battle-day arrived. Elkor Alish marched forth with his troops. Army engaged army. And, to Sarazin's bewilderment, Hearst smashed the enemy, winning a victory on a field of blood and gore.

  A little later, Hearst used just enough of the death-stone's magic to breach the walls of 'Marphos, and drove Alish from the city.

  The Rovac warrior had won a great victory for the Harvest Plains, and had made himself a hero. Selzirk rejoiced. And Sarazin, with shock and horror, shortly learnt that his mother planned to make Morgan Hearst ruler of the Harvest Plains in his own right.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Rumours of what was to happen soon brought crowds of supplicants to the door of Morgan Hearst — even though he, for the time being, thought it politic to deny the rumours and play the part of the simple soldier.

  Sarazin hears these rumours not, since he was busy brooding over maps of Stokos, and of the Greater and Lesser Teeth. He was hoping to find a way to win power and glory for himself. And, since the pirates had been broken in battle, surely the next logical step was to seize those territories from the sea reavers. Sarazin had no experience of war at sea, but was prepared to learn.

  'A power base, that's what I need,' he said. 'Some men loyal to me, a reputation, and . . . and . . .' He knew he was dreaming.

  Hearst had won what Sarazin had always wanted. Hearst would soon be ruler of the Harvest Plains, and Sarazin would be nothing. Nevertheless, he could still dream. And did.

  His daydreams were interrupted by an unexpected and peremptory summons from Morgan Hearst, which he obeyed. To his shock and horror he found Drake Douay closeted with Hearst. 'You!' said Sarazin.

  'Nay,' said Drake, 'I died at sea some many days ago. What you see here is none but my ghost.'

  He would have said more, but Hearst cut him off.

  'Business,' said Hearst. 'Elkor Alish is playing a trick with this fellow. A trick he learnt from Selzirk. He holds two of the man's friends as hostage, requiring, for their release, proof of delivery of two letters.'

  'How does that concern me?' said Sarazin.

  'One of those proofs must come from me,' said Hearst. 'But the other needs come from you.'

  'I give no proofs to this thieving whoreson bastard,' said Sarazin.

  You will give proofs,' said Hearst, waving a letter, 'or I will give this document to the Regency.' 'What says it?'

  'This letter from Alish to you invites you to join with him in making war on the Regency and installing yourself as emperor of the Harvest Plains.'

  Sarazin was horrified. This was like one of his worst dreams coming true! What would his mother think if she saw such a letter? Let alone Plovey! He did his best to shrug it off:

  That speaks of no crime on my part. It's no crime to be made an offer, no matter how criminal. Crime lies only in the acceptance, which I'd never make — and which none could prove against me.'

  But Hearst persisted, and, in the end, Sarazin consented to give Douay a signed and dated piece of parchment saying simply that the petition of Drake Douay had been refused. Then Sarazin was dismissed
by Hearst, and retreated to his own quarters to think things through.

  Once more — this was the story of his life! — he was embroiled in conspiracy. And, once again, he was the last person to know what was going on. Why had Douay returned to Selzirk? Why had Alish sent letters to Selzirk with Douay? If one letter had been an invitation to con- spiracy directed to Sean Sarazin, what had the other letter said?

  Was Douay in league with Hearst? If so, how? Why? Since when? And what would the outcome be? Perhaps Sarazin should denounce Hearst. But for what? And what proof did he have?

  The more Sarazin thought about it, the more he was sure of only one thing: his life was in danger. He thrice con- sidered fleeing the city immediately and thrice rejected the notion.

  This is impossible,' muttered Sarazin.

  He wished he could talk it over with someone. But Elkin and Jarl, the tutors of his youth, were no longer with him. Jaluba was long gone — and where she was nobody knew. His father was dead, his mother was scarcely on speaking terms with him, so who was left? Benthorn, whom he did not trust. And Glambrax.

  'It's hopeless!' groaned Sarazin.

  He was utterly alone and helpless at the most critical juncture of his life. Soon there would be a formal banquet in the Hall of Wine, which had been refurbished especially for the ceremony. At that banquet, Morgan Hearst would be consecrated as one of the Favoured Blood in sacred ceremony.

  Then he would be proclaimed ruler of the Harvest Plains.

  And what if he then set about ridding himself of obvious rivals — such as Sean Sarazin?

  Sarazin was still thinking about it when word reached him that Qolidian had surrendered to the Harvest Plains. The renegade governor of Androlmarphos had escaped to Runcorn after Hearst defeated Alish in battle. But now he had given himself up. He was currently in Kelebes, far to the north, but would soon be brought to Selzirk for interrogation and the administration of justice.

  Was he coming back to die.

  Not likely — that was not Qolidian's style!

  So he must have some plan to preserve his life.

  But what could save him in the face of such crimes?

  Surely, only the exposure of a greater treason, a greater crime. The crime of Sean Sarazin, conspirator, plotter, traitor, the man who had long sought to make himself master of Selzirk in defiance of the Constitution.

  How had Qolidian come by details of the conspiracy? There were many possibilities. After all, Qolidian would have had freedom of action while Elkor Alish ruled Tvlarphos. Jarl had escaped from the city alive, but many men of the Watch who knew details of the conspiracy would have been trapped in the city. Qoli- dian could have won details of Sarazin's treason by torture.

  —One way or another, he knows. And I must flee.

  —But what if I'm wrong? What if he doesn't know? What if I'm mistaken?

  An easy solution presented itself. When Sarazin wanted to go to Chenameg, he had let the world think he had been kidnapped by terrorists. All he needed to do was fake another kidnapping. Glambrax could help him. Yes, that was it!

  Sarazin was resolved.

  On the night of the banquet in the Hall of Wine, Sean Sarazin would be kidnapped. Glambrax would bear witness to the kidnapping, and would then follow Sean Sarazin to his chosen destination.

  Which was the city of Voice, far to the south in the Rice Empire.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Sean Sarazin arrived in Voice with his sword, his dwarf, a stolen horse — and a lot of information. Lord Regan was resident in the city when Sarazin arrived, and soon the ruler of the Rice Empire was methodically pumping the young refugee.

  Sarazin told all.

  Well, almost all.

  He breathed not a word of the instruments of enchant- ment which had been stolen from him, but he told the rest of his tale to the full. Lord Regan knew most of it already, having received regular reports from Thodric Jarl, Epelthin Elkin and other spies.

  But the latest events were new to him.

  'So,' said Lord Regan, when Sarazin was finished. 'Morgan Hearst is to be ruler of the Harvest Plains.'

  'By now he will be,' said Sean Sarazin. The very night I fled he was to be consecrated as one of the Favoured Blood. Doubtless today he lords it over Selzirk, and plans conquest. After all, he has the death-stone.'

  'Which you say he had sworn to take south to the Confederation of Wizards.'

  'Elkor Alish had sworn an identical oath,' said Sarazin, 'yet yielded to temptation. I do not think Hearst a greater man. After all, he has already delayed long in the Harvest Plains. Besides, I think my mother has ensnared him in a love-web.'

  'So,' said Lord Regan, 'lust and ambition will make Hearst the master of the Harvest Plains. Doubtless his thoughts will soon turn to conquest. When that happens,

  I cannot stand against him. Not if he is armed with the death-stone.'

  Then Lord Regan explained that he already had a refuge prepared against a day of trouble.

  'It is a place in the Ashun Mountains. There I can flee if my world comes to an end. You could go there now, if you chose. Or you could go to Chenameg.'

  'Chenameg?' said Sarazin, startled.

  'Yes,' said Lord Regan, briskly. 'I have long sponsored a little ... a little trouble in Chenameg. Men fight there against the tyranny of Tarkal of Shin. One of those who stands in opposition to Tarkal is Lod.'

  'Lod!' said Sarazin, in amazement. 'So Lod lives!'

  'Why does that surprise you?' said Lord Regan. 'Have you ever heard that he was dead? No? Then what did you hear of Lod?'

  'That he escaped from Shin when Tarkal sought to execute him,' said Sarazin. Tarkal, rightly thinking himself unsafe, then left Shin himself and set off for the Harvest Plains. Lod harried Tarkal's retreat. Then Tarkal joined up with an army led by my brother Celadon. Together, those two defeated Lod's forces. I know nothing of Lod's fate after that.'

  'He came to me,' said Lord Regan. 'He came to me with the remnants of his forces. I gave him what he needed — armour, weapons, military advisers. I saw him established in the hills in the south of Chenameg. Since then, he has ever been a thorn in Tarkal's side.'

  'And you would have me join him?' said Sarazin.

  'You do as you will,' said Lord Regan. You can go into refuge in the Ashun Mountains or join Lod in Chenameg. But you cannot stay here. Not when Morgan Hearst rules in Selzirk. For, if Hearst learnt that I was sheltering you, he would think my ambition was to set you on the throne of the Harvest Plains.'

  Lord Regan paused, then, laying his hand on Sarazin's shoulder, he said:

  'It is, of course. It always was. For, as I have told you before, I have long thought of you as my son. But I judge that this is not the moment to try the move.'

  There were times in the past when Sean Sarazin had hated Lord Regan. Who had lied to him. Used him. Tricked him. Manipulated him. Fooled him. But, now that he was face to face with the man, Sarazin could not doubt his sincerity.

  Lord Regan did care for him!

  Lord Regan did think of him as a son!

  And, one day, Lord Regan would put him on the throne of the Harvest Plains. Not just to serve his own ends — but because he truly valued Sean Sarazin. How could Sarazin return such love? He knew how. He knew what would please Lord Regan. So he said:

  'My lord, you have given me a choice of flight, refuge or war. I choose war! I will go to Chenameg and there join Lod's fight against Tarkal. Then, in the fulness of time, if another fate presents itself — I will be ready!'

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Sean Sarazin set off the very next day with Glambrax and half a dozen soldiers as guards and guides. Lord Regan came to farewell him, and brought him a goodbye present.

  'Open it later,' said Lord Regan. 'It's a trifle. A small token of my appreciation.'

  Sarazin resisted the temptation to open the present until evening. Then he tore away the wrapping, eager to see what Lord Regan had given him. When he caught sight of a small green bottle, his spir
its soared.

  Then fell again.

  It was the wrong bottlel

  This gift bottle was made of glass, and held a high-class cologne. Also in the present-package was a brand new razor, a block of perfumed shaving soap and a camel-hair shaving brush.

  'I suppose it's the thought that counts,' said Sean Sarazin, trying to persuade himself that that was the case.

  Then he spotted one last item: a small note in Lord Regan's handwriting. It said:

  'Another surprise awaits you in Chenameg.'

  What?

  Sarazin could hardly wait. He was up at dawn the next day, and had his party on the move the moment breakfast was over. He was more eager than ever to get to the secret guerilla camp in the southern highlands of Chenameg, to meet Lod — and to discover the nature of the surprise.

  The guerrillas had their headquarters in an old hunting lodge in the foothills of the mountains which formed the southern border of the Chenameg Kingdom. It was a huge building of black logs. Lod's great-grandfather, who had caused it to be erected, had hunted on a most immodest scale.

  Sarazin smelt the lodge before he saw it, because the state of the outdoor latrines left a lot to be desired. Apart from the latrines, he could also smell food — fresh baked bread! — and firesmoke.

  When the lodge came in sight, he saw it was washing day. A dozen outdoor fires were burning, heating huge iron cauldrons in which water was warming. Clothes were being washed, and bodies also. Sarazin saw Lod, and hailed him:

  'Lod!'

  'Friend!' said Lod, in a joyous voice, running towards him.