‘Poorly or not,’ said Alfric, ‘the king must see me, for I have brought him the third of the saga swords. We have an agreement.’
‘I know your agreement,’ said Ursula Major. ‘I know it, as does all of Galsh Ebrek. Like the rest of the city, I think it a madness. The kingdom cannot be ruled by a lunatic’s whim. So.’
‘So you’ve got the Wormlord under lock and key,’ said Alfric, half-misbelieving his ears.
‘My father is ill, yes, and confined to his bed,’ said Ursula Major. ‘When he recovers — if he recovers — he may have something to say to you. We are not pleased with the shameless way you have abused his mental weakness. Doubtless when he is in his right mind, he will be similarly displeased.’
‘You have no right to do this!’ said Alfric.
‘My lady rules as regent,’ said Guignol Grangalet. ‘She has every right.’
Alfric almost lost his temper entirely, then and there.
But he was a Banker Third Class, and thus a trained diplomat; and so had wit enough to temper his tongue to preserve his skin, and to retreat from Saxo Pall with all possible speed.
Once Alfric was free of the Wormlord’s castle, he marched up the s lopes of Mobius Kolb to the Bank, where he shortly presented himself t o Comptroller Xzu. ‘So,’ said Xzu, ‘here he is. The wolf-killer.’
‘You know about that?’ said Alfric.
‘All Galsh Ebrek knows about that,’ said Xzu. ‘Your father displayed a dead wolf in the marketplace. He claimed it to be the corpse of Wu Norn.’
‘It was,’ said Alfric. ‘I met him and killed him. He had a partner, too. He was… I’m sorry, the name escapes me.’
‘Pulaman the Tracker,’ said Xzu, who clearly had all the details written on his fingernails, as Bank parlance has it. ‘So you killed Pulaman. And Wu. A pity that Ciranoush Nom remains on the loose.’
‘Ciranoush, yes,’ said Alfric. ‘How is he taking it?’
‘In silence,’ said Xzu. ‘These days he’s much given to brooding, or so my spies tell me. Anyway. To business. You delivered the third of the saga swords to Saxo Pall, did you?’
‘I did,’ said Alfric. ‘I left it at Ursula Major’s feet, she being the regent, or so she claimed.’
‘Regent she is, at least for the moment,’ said Xzu. ‘Our problem now is how to get rid of her. Once she’s gone, we can place you on the throne and nobody will protest.’
‘There’s no way we can get rid of her,’ said Alfric. ‘Don’t be so defeatist!’ said Xzu. ‘If necessary, we can bring in mercenaries and h ave the bitch murdered.’
Alfric could scarcely believe his ears.
‘Yes,’ he said, cautiously, ‘but civil war might be the result. If one of the royal family is to be killed, it would be better if the Yudonic Knights did the killing.’
‘Then you must rally the Knights for that purpose.’
‘I lack sufficient stature. As yet. They might follow me in some things. Perhaps. But not in murder. Not murder of the king’s own daughter.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Xzu, thinking. ‘Well… does the Wormlord lack stature?’
‘I believe most of the Knights to hold him in high regard,’ said Alfric warily.
‘Then they will hold his will in high regard, doubtless.’
‘Yes,’ said Alfric. ‘But he has said nothing about murdering his daughter. Not to my knowledge. Nor do I believe I could successfully pretend that he has said any such thing.’
‘I do not ask you to,’ said Xzu. ‘Rather, I suggest you repeat the Wormlord’s own words to the Yudonic Knights.’
‘What words are those?’
‘Why, the man swore he would march forth against Herself, did he not? As soon as the saga swords were won, he would march.’
‘He did,’ said Alfric.
‘Then summon the Knights. Tell them the saga swords are won. Tell them it is their knightly duty to help the Wormlord to fulfil his oath. Play upon their dreams of heroic grandeur. Sing them songs. Bard them the deeds of heroes. Skop the swordblood. Make each man a man indeed. You know the way of it. You know your people.’ ‘To a point,’ said Alfric uneasily.
‘Better still, go to your father. Ask him to do the barding and talking, the blood-stirring and the glory-boasting. He has the knack of it.’
And Alfric remembered the Yudonic Knights who had gathered in Grendel’s bam at his father’s behest. Yes, his father could summon and rouse those men. His father knew the way of it.
‘Then,’ said Xzu, starting to get enthusiastic, ‘the Yudonic Knights will release the Wormlord from his confinement in Saxo Pall. He will march against Herself. And you, of course, will march with him.’
‘Me?’ said Alfric, startled.
‘But of course,’ said Xzu, smoothly. ‘You must win yourself a share of the Wormlord’s glory. Otherwise how can you rightly claim the throne?’
‘But… but the Wormlord will die.’
‘Will he?’
‘Yes,’ said Alfric, trying to conceal his fear, his anger. ‘Nobody can contend against Herself.’
‘Oh, come now,’ said Xzu, sounding amused. ‘You’ve dared against monsters thrice. Monsters are nothing. You dared against them solo, yet survived. Survived? You triumphed!’
‘With help, yes,’ said Alfric coldly. ‘But She is not a foolish sea dragon or a brain-damaged giant. No. She is Herself, and She is nightmare.’
‘Nightmare?’ said Xzu carelessly. ‘The word has been used of the vampires, you know. ’
‘Yes, I know, I know,’ said Alfric. ‘But the vampires were easiest of all. They wanted to deal with us, and we knew it. The same does not go for Herself. Or have you a secret to tell me? Has She been to the bank to ask for a loan, for a mortgage? Does she want to build herself a nice little cottage with carpets clean on the floor, a housecat by the hearth?’
Xzu made no answer to this sarcastic sally.
Instead, he pushed a parchment across his desk.
‘A promotion,’ said Xzu. ‘Your promotion. From Banker Third Class to Banker Second Class. You will note it is conditional. It becomes effective as soon as you return from a quest against Herself. A quest, please note, which you must undertake in the Wormlord’s company.’ Alfric took it, read it, pushed it back.
‘I’ll think about it,’ said he.
‘Take your time,’ said Xzu. ‘But make sure your time isn’t too much time. We’ll see you back here once you’ve… once you’ve made a contribution to our welfare. Go now, friend banker, and may the Spirit of the Ledgers go with you, and may the Seven Demons of Usury confound your enemies, and may the power of the Great Schroff be with you. ’
The invoking of these imaginary entities was a ponderous joke, a jejune joke of the kind that both Alfric and Xzu had outgrown long ago. Nevertheless, it was a Bank joke, confirming the pair as bankers in league against the world; and Alfric smiled, heartened by the comradeship the joke implied.
He rose, and went to the door.
Just before Alfric exited the room, Xzu spoke again, saying:
‘Good luck, Alfric.’
‘Thank you,’ said Alfric, and left.
But though Alfric had thanked Comptroller Xzu for that parting benediction, the way it had been framed was not altogether to his liking. For Xzu had addressed him as‘Alfric’.
Izdarbolskobidarbix was the name he chose to use in the Bank; and, though he had long pardoned the occasional use of ‘Alfric’ or ‘Danbrog’ by his peers and superiors, he nevertheless resented such inaccuracy. He felt (perhaps he was wrong, perhaps he was oversensitive, but what he could not deny were his own feelings) that Xzu had been deliberately putting him at a distance by calling him ‘Alfric’, and that Xzu’s use of that name constituted, in some sense, a subtle casting out.
Certainly Alfric was being exiled from the Bank, at least for the moment. Exiled until he had ‘made a contribution’ to the Bank’s welfare. He was under orders, then. He had to rouse the Yudonic Knights to action, to free the Wormlord from his imprisonment, then march with the Wormlord to do battle with Herself.
Alfric felt this to be grossly unfair.
Surely he had done enough already.
The odds had been in his favour when he had fought with the sea dragon Qa. Nevertheless, a single mistake could have seen him killed. As for the swamp giant — that encounter had been more dangerous yet. And the vampires were not exactly harmless.