The Clocks of Iraz

Chapter Six THE GOLEM GENERAL

NEXT MORNING, JORIAN WENT TO THE TOWER OF KUMAshar to inspect his clocks. He was pleased to find that yesterday's disturbances had not reached the tower. Then he made his way through the bustling crowds to the House of Learning.

Knowing him by now, the sentries admitted him without question. As he walked through the halls, he lingered at the doors of several laboratories where experiments were in progress. In one, engineers of the School of Matter tinkered with a machine designed to run on the power from boiling water. The project was old, but none had yet succeeded in making the contraption do any useful work. In another, technicians worked on a telescope, like the ordinary spyglass but much larger, wherewith they hoped to investigate the heavenly bodies.

Other chambers were in use by wizards of the School of Spirit. In one, three such sages sought to train a demon from the tenth plane, a creature of low intelligence, to obey simple commands. In another, a wizard-physician experimented with a spell to cure plague; his subjects were condemned criminals who had volunteered for the task on the promise of freedom if they survived.

Besides these activities, many rooms stood empty. As a result of the decline of the kings' financial support of the House of Learning, the size of its personnel and the scale of its projects had greatly shrunk in recent decades.

"At least," said Jorian, seated in the director's office, "yesterday's misadventures finally led you to get a new turban. That old one was getting so decrepit that I expected to find mice nesting in it." He had had his own hair cut short to bandage the wounds on his scalp.

"Contemn not such old things, my son," said Karadur. "That turban had acquired some small magical potential, merely by being in the vicinity when so many fell incantations were uttered and spells were cast. Do your clocks run harmoniously?"

"As regularly as the heavenly bodies. I've just come from the Tower. There was never any real problem, had your predecessor hired a competent mechanic instead of a fumbler. My father did a good, workmanlike job, as anyone who knew him could have told you.

"What I've come for, howsomever, is not the state of the clocks but the state of Jorian of Ardamai. Have you a means for our raid into Xylar?"

"Gods of Mulvan, Jorian, be not so hasty! Here we have barely escaped with our lives from riot and insurrection; we have traversed the most secret passageway in the kingdom; we have become embroiled in the conflict amongst the king, Madam Sahmet, and High Priest Chaluish—"

"All the more reason for pressing on. What's Chaluish like?"

"A little gray-haired man—nobody whom one would look at twice. He was in that parade of priests yesterday, and I have encountered him at courtly functions. But—"

"I have the Flying Fish tied up in a private dock for a small monthly rental, but I fear she'd prove too slow if we really had to run for it. So we had better prepare some swifter magical vehicle—"

"My son, I have never said that I would accompany you on your mission of abduction. Much though I esteem the lady Estrildis, I cannot desert a responsible post for petty personal—"

"Petty!" barked Jorian. "I'll have you know—"

"Now, now, my son, I meant no offense. But you have seen how this kingdom totters along, and I—unworthy though I be—am in a position to lend it a little stability and rationality. It were irresponsible—"

"I quote," growled Jorian: " 'So convenient a thing it is to be a reasoning being, for it enables one to think up a plausible reason for whatever one wishes to do.'"

"The wise Cidam?"

"Nay; our home-grown Novarian philosopher Achaemo. But, my reverend old spooker, my task needs at least two persons."

"Take Zerlik," said Karadur. "The lad will be delighted."

"What, and have to wipe that idiot's nose at every step? No, thank you! He'd do something silly at the critical moment, such as challenging the captain of the guard to a duel just when I was trying to hoist Estrildis out undetected."

"At least, he is reasonably strong and agile. I am neither, nor am I any longer up to such desperate adventures. Another journey like ours around the Inner Sea would terminate this incarnation for me."

"You can still cast a dire spell, which Zerlik cannot. But let's leave the question of personnel for the nonce to discuss the vehicle. How about that royal copper bathtub?"

Karadur wagged his head. "Alas, I see no prospect of obtaining it for your purpose. Even supposing that I could persuade the king to lend it—"

"Build another like it, then."

"That were too costly. It would come to hundreds of royals, and I have no funds in this year's appropriation to cover it.

"Furthermore, you appear not to realize the practical difficulties. It would require months of the most puissant sorcery to entrap our demon and compel him to our will. For such an enterprise, my best men were Goelnush, Luekuz, and Firaven, but they are fully occupied with keeping Hoshcha's Tunnel dry. The other sorcerers at my command are all less competent. Old Oinash, for ensample, is but a doddery old time-server awaiting his pension. Barch, a younger man, is gifted but careless. Twice he has barely escaped sudden death at the claws of a hostile demon he had evoked, through some silly error in his pentacle; but he never seems to learn. As for Yanmik—"

"Why not put these dimmer flames on the tunnel—which must now be mere routine—to release your best men for my spell?"

"The king has forbidden it. He is fain not to have the wizard on duty sneeze and let in the floods just as he is traversing the tunnel on his tryst with Sahmet. Therefore he insists that my best men be kept at this task. And speaking of the king, there is—ah—umm—another complication."

"What's this? Out with it!"

"The—ah—His Majesty but this morn forbade me to assist you in any way in leaving Iraz. He must be apprehensive as to what might befall him if you were not present at the next full moon to pleasure the priestess."

Jorian glowered. "Curse it, you hauled me away from a good, respectable job, where I was at least geographically near to my darling, to this distant and turbulent city, on the promise of getting me means to rescue her. All you needed, you said, was to become director of the House of Learning, and the fish was in the creel. Well, thanks to my clockery, you're now director—and what happens? You can't do this for this reason, and you can't do that for that, and so on. I can make things hot for people who betray me—"

"My son, my son! Pray, take not that harsh and hostile tone. At the moment, I admit I envisage no easy thoroughfare to your noble goal. Only have patience, and the gods will open the way for us. They have never met—yes, Nedef?" Karadur changed from Novarian to Penembic. "O Jorian, this is our official scryer; Master Nedef, I present Jorian the Kortolian, our new clockmaster. You were saying?"

"Doctor Karadur," said the scryer, "I fear I have portentous news."

"You may speak before Master Jorian."

"Iraz is threatened by a host of assailants."

"Eh? Vurnu, Kradha, and Ashakal What assailants? We are at war with none."

"May I sit, sir? I am weak with what I have seen."

"By all means, sit. Now tell us forthwith."

The scryer drew a long breath. "North, east, south, and west—they converge upon us from all sides. Prom the west comes a fleet of Algarthian pirates; from the south, a rabble of armed peasants under Mazsan and his faction; from the east, a swarm of Fediruni nomads on camels; and from the north, a Free Company of mercenaries from Novaria."

"How nigh are they?"

"Some are nigher than others; they may reach us on the morrow."

"How got the Fedirunis past the army along our eastern borders? Have they defeated the frontier force?"

"I know not, Doctor. They were already well inside the border when I discovered them."

"We must notify the king instanter," said Karadur.

They found King Ishbahar at his afternoon repast, which he called "tea."

"Sit down, sit down, our dear fellows!" he cried. "Have a cup of genuine tea, brought at vast expense from Kuramon in the Far East. Have some of these honey biscuits to go with it. Try some of these sardines. Have you tea in Novaria nowadays?"

"It can be obtained, Your Majesty," said Jorian, "but it has never really taken hold. Perhaps the fact that the upheavals in Salimor cut off the supply from time to time have discouraged its use. Howsomever—"

"The Novarians ought to take it up," said Ishbahar. "They are too much given to drunkenness, we hear. A pleasant but nonintoxicating drink were better for their health." The king bit off the end of a huge plantain from Beraoti. "Moderation in all things is our guilding principle. Temperance." The plantain rapidly diminished.

"No doubt, sire. But we have something important to—"

"In fact, dear boy, how would you like a royal concession, to freight tea up the coast to Xylar? You could build up a profitable trade—"

"Sire," said Jorian, "Iraz is about to be attacked. Had we not better break the impending siege ere discussing trade routes?"

"Iraz? Besieged?" said the king, holding an olive in front of his open mouth. "Nubalyaga save us, but what is this?"

Karadur explained the visions that the scryer had seen in his crystal ball.

"Oh, dear!" said the king, looking sadly at the piles of uneaten food. 'To have to break off such a splendid tea in the middle! The sufferings we kings endure for the welfare of our people! Ho, Ebeji! Summon Colonel Chuivir!"

When the glittering commander of the Royal Guard had clanked in and saluted, Ishbahar asked Karadur to repeat his tale. Then he asked Chuivir:

"However did those barbarians get past the frontier undetected?"

"You forget, sire, that General Tereyai has assembled the frontier army for maneuvers in the foothills of the Lograms, leaving the border covered by only a skeleton force. The Fedininis must have surprised one of the frontier fortresses and poured through ere the alarm could be spread."

"Where is Admiral Kyar?"

"I believe he has put to sea in his flagship, to exercise his rowers."

"Then, Colonel, you would seem to be the ranking officer in Iraz. Kindly get word to General Tereyai and Admiral Kyar as soon as you can. Meanwhile, you shall mobilize the Royal Guard and call up the companies of the factions."

"But, Your Majesty, how shall I—how do you wish me to carry out your commands? Shall I send a barge out to seek the admiral—"

Ishbahar slapped the table, making the cups and dishes dance. "Colonel Chuivir! Bother us not with those details; just carry out our orders! Now go and get to work!" When the crestfallen colonel had clanked out, the king shook his head. "Woe is us! We do believe we committed an error in appointing Chuivir to that command. He looked so magnificent on parade, but he has never fought a battle in his life."

"Then how did it happen, sire?" asked Jorian.

"He was a cousin of our third wife and well-liked in society. Since we relied upon the frontier force to keep the foe a decent distance from Iraz, we never expected that the actual defense of the city would devolve upon this amiable popinjay. Herekit!"

"Aye, sire?" said the secretary.

"Draft me a letter to Daunas, Grand Bastard of Othomae, inquiring whether he would hire out to us a few squadrons of his lobster-plated heavy cavalry, and on what terms. And command two of our swiftest couriers to stand by, booted and saddled. Draft another to Shaju, king of kings of Mulvan, urging him to invade the deserts of Fedirun from the east, since this land will be partly stripped of warriors. Suggest that he loot their sacred city of Ubar." The king turned back to his guests with a sigh. "Ah, well, we have done what we can. Now the fate of the city rests upon our gallant subjects."

"Does Your Majesty plan to take an active part in the defense?" asked Jorian.

"Bountiful heavens, dear boy, nay! Can you imagine us, with our girth, trading spear-thrusts on the battlements? Besides, we have always been a man of peace, with little use for fire-eating sword-rattlers. And now, meseems, our city and our life must needs depend upon these same swashbucklers. Doctor Karadur, you should muster your scientists and wizards to the work of defense. Have you, perchance, a spell to summon some unhuman race—say, the silvans of the Lograms—to our aid?"

"I will see what the House of Learning can do," said Karadur. "But let Your Majesty not count upon any such assistance. The unhumans have little love for mankind, having been harshly entreated by them. To seek to compel aid from them is like holding a sword by the wrong end, so that it wounds the hand of the wielder. But I go—"

"Stay, stay. Now that we have given the essential commands, there is no reason why we should not finish our tea."

"But, sire, I—"

"Nay, relax. A quarter-hour more or less will not decide the fate of the city. Do have some of these mushrooms, gathered in the jungles of Baraoti."

"If Your Majesty thinks them safe…" said Jorian, staring uneasily at a yellow-spotted purple fungoid growth of singularly repulsive appearance.

"Nonsense! We have been eating these for years, and we have not lost a royal taster yet, heh heh."

Jorian manfully swallowed a mouthful of fungus. To give himself a pretext for not eating another, he said:

"Your Colonel Chuivir reminds your servant of the tale of King Filoman and the golem general."

"Go ahead, dear boy," said the king. "You will not mind if we steal a bit of your mushroom, will you?"

"Feel free, sire."

"This king," began Jorian, "otherwise called Filoman the Weil-Meaning, was the father of the celebrated Fusinian the Fox. King Filoman was also an outstanding ruler in his way. He had the noblest emotions and the best intentions of any Kortolian monarch. He was intelligent, courageous, honest, hard-working, moral, kind, and generous. His only fault was that he had no common sense, and in practice this fault often cancelled all his other virtues put together.

"One legend says that this fault was caused by an astrological conjunction at his birth. Another avers that, when the fairies gathered for his naming ceremony, the fairy who was supposed to confer common sense lost her temper when she beheld another fairy wearing a gauzy gown just like hers and flounced out in a rage without bestowing her gift.

"Early in his reign, King Filoman confronted the problem of the defense of his realm. Being a peace-loving man, he supposed that others felt likewise. In this opinion he was encouraged by his minister, an oldster named Periax whom he had inherited from the previous reign.

"Periax urged Filoman to reduce the army to a mere royal guard. 'Wars,' quotha, 'are caused by mutual fears and suspicions, which in turn are caused by armaments. Get rid of the armaments and you will abolish war. When our neighbors see us disarming, they will know that we have no aggressive intentions towards them and lose their fear of us. Then they will follow our example, and peace and brotherhood shall reign forevermore.'

"Periax did not enlarge upon the real reason for his advice. This was that he was himself too old and creaky to sit a horse, brandish a sword, and perform other warlike acts. In these early times, the king and his ministers were expected to lead charges in person. Periax reckoned that, as a result of his pacific policy, war would at least be deferred until after his natural death, and he cared not for what befell the kingdom thereafter.

"Periax's argument seemed to Filoman like sound sense, so he virtually disbanded his army. Now, at this time, Kortoli's southern neighbor, Vindium, was under the rule of Nevors the Daft, whose character is implied by his sobriquet. I need not detail the enormities of his reign: wasting his treasury on solid gold statues of himself; slaying ministers, kinsmen, and associates on the slightest pretext; whimseys like making his army dress up as frogs and go hopping about the parade ground on all fours, shouting 'Diddit! Diddit!' while King Nevors rolled on the ground screaming with laughter.

"In time, a cabal of noblemen and officials got the king apart from his bodyguard, hacked him to pieces, and threw the pieces into the Inner Sea. Then the problem arose, who should take the unlamented Nevors' place? For he had slain all his near kin.

"As it happened, an astute and ambitious lawyer, Doctor Truentius, had foreseen these events and gathered a powerful following among the commons. When King Nevors was slain, Truentius marched to the palace at the head of thousands of his partisans, chased out the relicts of the old reign, and proclaimed a republic with himself as First Consul.

"Truentius was the most brilliant man in Vindium. He had read all the historians and philosophers and prophets and had thought deeply on questions of government. He it was who, more or less singlehanded, invented republican government in Novaria. He drew up a constitution for Vindium which, considering its early date, is still acclaimed as a marvel of profound and original thought.

"Knowing himself the ablest man around, Truentius inferred that his decisions as to what was best for the Vindines were necessarily right. Therefore, anyone who opposed them was by definition an enemy of the people and hence a scoundrel for whom the direst punishment were too lenient. Soon Vindium City saw in its main square a large wooden block, served by a man with a black hood over his head and a large ax in his hands, wherewith to smite off the head of anyone so malign and perverse as to dispute the infallible reasoning of Doctor Truentius.

"After a couple of years of this, Truentius, finding that such domestic problems as the production and distribution of wealth and the reconciliation of order with liberty stubbornly resisted the best efforts of himself and his headsman, bethought him of spreading the blessings of popular government to the rest of the Twelve Cities. Besides the benefits that such a program would confer upon the other Novarians, it would rally the Vindines, who were beginning to fall into seditious factions, behind their First Consul and furnish him with a pretext for making his rule even more absolute. He therefore sent an ultimatum to King Filoman of Kortoli, demanding that Filoman abdicate in favor of a popularly elected consul.

"Naturally perturbed, King Filoman sought advice. The advice he got from his councillors, however, was so contradictory that Filoman could make nought of it. Some were for arming every man in the kingdom and resisting to the last; but others pointed out that no such stock of arms existed.

"Some said to reactivate the old army and recall the retired officers to the colors. But it transpired that most of these officers had gone abroad to seek service as mercenaries. The former general of the Kortolian army, for instance, was now serving as a captain in the forces of the Grand Bastard of Othomae. It would take too long to recall them, even if they were willing to come.

"Old Periax urged Filoman to yield to Truentius' overwhelming force. But others said that, judging by his master's conduct, the new First Consul's first act would be to set up a chopping block in Kortoli City to shorten everybody who might possibly be a threat to him, which included all those present.

"At last it was decided to make some arms, and buy some, and call up the lustier young men, and hire such former officers as could be found to train them to use them.

"The only thing that saved Kortoli from conquest during this parlous time was the fact that Truentius, too, had his military troubles. For most of the officers of the Vindine army, as members of the old regime, either had been executed or had fled. Truentius knew that the mob of mechanics and merchants, with whose help he had seized power, would not be up to a real campaign without much organization and training.

'To gain time, Filoman was urged to seek a parley with Consul Truentius. To strengthen Filoman's hand, it was decided to hold a plebiscite of all adult male Kortolians, as to whether they wished to continue under the rule of King Filoman or to change to a republican system like that of Vindium. When the plebiscite was held, the Kortolians gave Filoman ninety-seven out of every hundred votes. This may have been the voters' honest opinion, since Filoman was then greatly beloved for his modesty, kindliness, and other virtues. Besides, Truentius' republican doctrines had been somewhat discredited by tales of his unbridled use of the ax.

"The question also arose, who should command the new Kortolian army? Several councillors put themselves forward for the post. But, whenever one proposed himself, the others shouted him down, crying that he was an ambitious schemer who sought to use his power to usurp the throne. So vehement was the opposition to any name proposed that Filoman felt he needs must leave his choice in abeyance for the time being.

"The parley with Truentius was duly arranged. It took place on an islet in the river Posaurus, which divided Vindium from Kortoli. Each was to bring no more than three armed men with him. In due course, the two met, ate lunch, and got down to business. Truentius said:

" 'My good Filoman, love you your people?'

" 'Certes!' replied the king. 'Have I not proven it an hundred times over?'

" 'Then, an you truly love them, you must yield your throne as I have demanded. Otherwise you will bring down upon them a brutal, sanguinary war. The choice is yours, and so is the responsibility.'

" 'And wherefore should I do that?'

" 'First, because I demand it and have the force to compel your compliance; second, because it is the good and righteous thing to do. Monarchy is an ancient superstition, an outmoded charade, an obsolete form of injustice and oppression.' And Truentius lectured Filoman on the reasons for a popular republic.

" 'But,' said Filoman, 'we have just polled the Kortolians, and they voted overwhelmingly to keep the monarchy.'

'Truentius laughed. 'My dear Filoman, do you expect me to take your vote seriously, when you held the plebiscite and counted the votes?'

" 'Do you insinuate that I cheated?' cried Filoman in wrath. 'Never has anyone so impugned my honesty in the five years of my reign!'

"Truentius merely laughed some more. 'Well, let us suppose that you did report the votes truthfully. You are a naive enough young fool to have done just that. It still makes no difference, since the people nathe-less voted for a republic'

" 'How do you make that?'

" 'Why, it is simple. Any population is divided into two factions: the people, and the enemies of the people. Since my program is the best one for the people, anybody who opposes it must logically be an enemy of the people.'

" 'Mean you,' said Filoman, 'that if ninety-seven out of every hundred vote for me and three for you, the three are the people and the other ninety-seven the enemies thereof?'

" 'Certes, my lad. Right glad am I to see that you learn the facts of politics so quickly.'

" 'But that is absurd!' cried Filoman. 'It is merely a pretext for the infinite expansion of your own power!'

"Truentius sighed. 'I will try once more to explain, albeit I fear your grasp of logic is inadequate. My guiding principle is: all power to the people. The people, I assume, are always right. Do you follow me so far?'

" 'Aye.'

" Then, if certain malevolent or misguided persons make a decision that is obviously wrong, it follows that they cannot belong to the people. Therefore they must be enemies of the people.'

" 'But who decides which decision is right?'

" 'No mere mortal mind decides that, but the iron laws of logic. For ensample, I have explained to you why a republican government is preferable to a monarchy. This is an objective fact, which no personal whim, error, or bias can alter, any more than they can change the sum of two and two. Therefore—'

"But Filoman interrupted: 'Never! I will die fighting ere I suffer you to put this monstrous doctrine into effect!'

" 'Oh, come, my dear King! That is quite unnecessary. You can abdicate and flee abroad with as much of the royal treasury as you can bear with you. In fact, I have your successor, the First Consul of Kortoli, already chosen. He is a muleteer named Knops: a good man who will promote your former people's welfare.'

" The people would never vote your puppet Knops into office!'

" 'Oh, yes they would, because he would have no opposition. Since I have chosen him, and since my logic is irrefutable, it follows that Master Knops is the best man for the magistracy. Anybody opposing him would be an enemy of the people, to be slain out of hand.'

" 'But Knops is not even a Kortolian!'

" 'Not now; but as your last official act, you can confer citzenship upon him. I like to keep things orderly—'

"Just then, a powerful sneeze came from a clump of alders on the Vindine side of the Posaurus. Filoman looked up, startled, and his eyes caught the glint of the sun on steel. For once he acted with admirable promptitude. He shouted to his men-at-arms: Treason! Let us fly!' And he and his men sprang to their feet and ran through the shallows to the Kortolian side of the river, where a groom held their horses.

'Truentius' guards and the men he had hidden rushed after them and brought down one of Filoman's men with an arrow; but the king and the others' got away. It had not occurred to Filoman to have more armed men waiting over the nearest hill to come to his aid, so there was nought to do but ride hell-for-leather. They galloped off into the hills of southern Kortoli and lost their pursuers.

"They lost themselves, also. They were wandering around, suffering hunger and thirst, when a woman of early middle years called to them from a hillside.

" 'Hail, Your Majesty!' she cried. 'Can a loyal subject be of service to you?'

" 'Methinks you can, good lady,' quoth Filoman. 'But how know you me?'

" 'I have powers not of this mundane sphere,' she said. 'But come on into my cave and refresh yourselves.'

" 'Mean you that you are a witch?'

" 'Nay, sire; a proper wizardess, hight Gloe. At least, I should be but for a trifle of difficulty about my license, which I am sure Your Majesty can put straight with a snap of his finger.'

"When Filoman, his two surviving men-at-arms, and the groom had refreshed themselves, Filoman said: 'I am sure the difficulty whereof you speak can be ironed out. But if you have in sooth magical powers, mayhap you can tell me how to find a commander-in-chief for my new army, which is even now drilling against the expected onslaught from Vindium.'

"Then he told her how, amongst his councillors, all those with warlike experiences—and some without—coveted the post, but none wished for anyone else to have it. In sooth, King Filoman himself worried over the prospect that a successful general might oust him from his throne.

" 'Why not lead your army yourself?' asked Gloe.

" 'I am not qualified. Being a lover of peace and of my fellow men, I have not sought experience with the bloody art of war.'

" 'Well, then,' said Gloe, 'I needs must make you a golem general.'

" 'A what?'

" 'A golem is a manlike image of clay, animated by a demon from the Fifth Plane. I shall set this demon the task of defeating the Vindines. I shall promise him that, once that is done, he may return to his own plane, leaving the image lifeless and no threat to Your Majesty. If you would fain preserve the image, you can bake it to brick and stand it on a pedestal.'

" 'But,' said Filoman, 'will this demon of yours possess the needful military skill?'

" 'He will be adequate, sire. After all, the Vindine army is itself but a rabble of shopkeepers and artisans, since most of the Vindine knightly class who have not lost their heads have fled abroad. Moreover, Truentius, for all his bloodthirsty talk, is an arrant coward who cannot bear the sight of blood. He never attends those executions he orders so lavishly.' "

"This seemed like a sound proposal, so Filoman assented. A sennight later, Gloe arrived in Kortoli City driving an oxcart wherein, padded by straw against damage, lay the image of a man seven feet tall. When the cart drew up in front of the palace, Gloe uttered a spell. Then the image threw off its straw and climbed creakily to its feet.

"It was the image of a mighty warrior in armor, wearing the insignia of a Kortolian general. Gloe had not stinted her preparations, for the clay that composed the armor and costume of the image was painted to resemble the real thing. In fact, one had to look closely to perceive that it was not in sooth a normal man of commanding aspect.

"In a hoarse, growling voice, the image said: 'General Golemius reporting for duty, Your Majesty.'

"And indeed, General Golemius proved a competent commander, even if the yellow-gray complexion of his face and hands made the soldiers uneasy.

"Another sennight passed, and word came that the Vindines had crossed the Posaurus into southern Kortoli. Filoman and his new army marched out to meet them. Filoman kept in the background and left the active commanding to General Golemius, who seemed to manage well enough.

"At length the two armies sighted each other, on a dank day of lowering clouds. General Golemius drew up his army. Filoman, mounted and attended by a small personal guard, watched admiringly from a nearby hilltop.

"When the golem general had gotten all his men in place, he stepped to the fore, waved his sword, and growled: 'Forward!' So the army clattered after their general, who tramped stolidly in the lead.

"Filoman walked his horse down the hill and followed the army at a leisurely pace. The force marched across the plain, which was broken here and there by a few small clumps of trees. As the two armies approached, Filoman saw that which startled him. Leading the Vindine army was, not First Consul Doctor Truentius, but another golem general. For Truentius, being as Gloe had said a physical coward, had had recourse to his own sorcerer. This thaumaturge had summoned another demon from the Fifth Plane to animate a general of clay.

"The armies moved slowly, because both were composed largely of green troops, whose alignment was often disordered by the trees that dotted the plain. When this happened, the two clay generals had to halt their forces and straighten them out again. And then it began to rain.

"As the armies came closer, the rain came down harder. It rang on helmets with a metallic sound; it trickled down inside hauberk and greave. And, just as the armies came within bowshot, they slowed and stopped.

"King Filoman pushed his horse forward through the rear ranks to see what had halted his host. Soon he observed that General Golemius was standing still in front of his army. Moreover, the general seemed to have lost in stature and gained in girth. As Filoman watched, the general dissolved into a mound of mud, as did the other general.

"That left both armies without commanders. Over against the Kortolians stood the Vindines, whose army was much larger. Behind the Vindine army, First Consul Truentius sat in his carriage, watching, for he had never learnt to ride a horse. When his army halted, he clambered up on the roof of his carriage to see what betid. Discovering that his general, like the other, had reverted to clay, he began to shout: 'Forward, my brave men! At them! Charge!'

"At first, his army milled and shuffled uncertainly. But then some officers, by blows and exhortations, got their units moving again.

"Meanwhile the Kortolian army, seeing a force of nearly twice their own strength bearing down upon them, began to edge backwards. Here and there a man broke from the ranks and ran. Vindine arrows began to fall amongst the Kortolians.

"King Filoman had drawn up his horse beneath a tree, to keep out of the rain. And in this tree was a hornets' nest. Because of the rain, the hornets were all huddled inside their nest and minding their own affairs, when an arrow aimed at the king flew high and skewered their nest. I know not if Penembei have insects like these, but our Novarian hornets most fiercely resent any tampering with their nests and take stern measures against the tamperer.

"As the hornets swarmed out, the first animate thing they beheld was King Filoman. He was sitting his horse right under their bough, waving his sword and trying by cries and appeals to stem the rout of his army, in much the same vein as Truentius on the other side was harkening on his host. Presently Filoman gave an even louder yell as a hornet stung him on the wrist and another on the cheek. Then his horse whinnied, as another stung it on the arse, and bounded forward.

"Filoman's guard put spurs to their steeds to keep up with the king. The soldiers saw their king galloping straight at the foe, brandishing his sword and followed by a handful of bodyguards. Someone set up a cry of: 'Save the king!' and started running after Filoman. When some did, all did, so that what had been a rout of the Kortolians was changed in a trice into a rout of the Vindines.

"Truentius commanded his coachman to turn the carriage around; but, finding this difficult in the press, the coachman lighted down from his seat and fled on foot. Truentius then climbed into the driver's seat and tried to take the reins himself. Having no knowledge of chariotry, however, he was unable to bring the frightened horses under control. Then he got down, too, but was overborne in the rout and trampled to death.

"The Vindines fled in disorder from Kortoli. When the survivors got home, they changed their constitution to allow for two elected consuls, in the hope that the twain would watch each other and keep each other from seizing unlawful power. And, despite interludes of turbulence and usurpation, they have kept to that scheme ever since.

"Filoman rode home in triumph, notwithstanding that his face was grotesquely swollen from the sting. He was hailed as the savior of Kortoli for his desperate charge into the heart of the foe. He disclaimed credit, saying that the victor was neither himself nor his golem general, but the hornet that had stung his horse's rump. But so great was the love for Filoman that people said, ah, that is just our hero-king being modest.

"In any case, Filoman decided to stick to flesh-and-blood generals thereafter. They might have their faults but at least would not dissolve into mud at the first wetting.

"Later, Filoman's reign became more and more eccentric. He retained a ghost as his minister; he tried to abolish crime by pensioning all criminals; and he fell under the influence of a Mulvanian ascetic, Ajimbalin. This man persuaded him to lead a life of utter self-denial and mortification of the flesh, to the neglect of his kingdom and of his queen, who eloped with a pirate captain.

"The Kortolians sometimes wondered if they had not been wiser to toss Filoman out and adopt a republican scheme like that urged upon them by Truentius. In fact, they might well have done so; but, ere matters could come to a head, Filoman lost his life in a riding accident and was succeeded by his much abler son Fusinian. King Fusinian restored the popularity of the monarchy, and it has persisted down to the present day."

The king laughed heartily until he got into a fit of coughing and wheezing and had to be slapped on the back by his taster and his secretary.

"At least," he said, "we have never appointed a general of clockwork or of clay, heh heh. Chuivir may not be any Juktar the Great, but at least he bleeds if one pricks him." The king's little black eyes stared sharply at Jorian out of his puffy, round face. "That brings up a problem. Yes, sir, a problem. Two days ago, our spies brought us a rumor that you, dear boy, were not quite what you seemed—that, in sooth, you were no mere mechanic but a former ruler of some Novarian city-state. Is that true?"

Jorian and Karadur exchanged glances. Jorian muttered: "Zerlik must have been flapping that long tongue of his." He turned to the king. "It is true, Your Majesty. Your servant was king of Xylar for five years. Know you their method of succession?"

"We once knew but have forgotten. Tell us."

"Every five years, they come together in a grand assembly, cut off the old king's head, and throw it up for grabs. I became king by catching my predecessor's head when I saw it flying towards me, not then realizing what the object was and what catching it implied. When my five years neared their end, Doctor Karadur devised a method for me to escape this drastic ritual."

"Bountiful heavens!" exclaimed the king. "Here, the ruler is at least granted more than five years of tenure; albeit the principle is not wholly different. How did the Xylarians take the escape of their human toss-ball?"

"They have been after me ever since, to drag me back and complete their interrupted ceremony. Therefore I beg Your Majesty not to reveal my former status, lest the Xylarians get wind of my whereabouts and kidnap me. I barely escaped one such attempt on my way hither."

The king clucked. 'Too bad, too bad. An we could publicly proclaim that you were a former king, we could do fine things for you. What was the date of your birth?"

Jorian raised his bushy black eyebrows, but replied: "I was born in the twelfth year of King Fealin the Second of Kortoli, on the fifteenth of the Month of the Lion. Why, sire?"

"Have you taken that down, Herekit?" the king asked his secretary; then to Jorian: "We asked it so that our wise men can calculate what the fates have in store for you. Tell me: had you warlike experience during your kingship?"

"Aye, sire; quite a lot. I led Xylar's army in two pitched battles, at Dol and at Larunum, with brigands calling themselves free companies, as well as several skirmishes. I admiraled the Xylarian fleet in driving the Algarthian pirates away from our shores. Besides, I had already seen battle whilst serving a hitch in the Foot Guards of the Grand Bastard of Othomae."

"Then, my dear Jorian, you would seem to be the answer to a fat old man's prayer."

"How so, sire?"

"Look you. We know nought of warfare and make no pretense of doing so. Our senior officer, Colonel Chuivir, is, for practical purposes, as ignorant as we. He, howsomever, is not fain to admit it. For that matter, it would do the spirits of the defenders no good for their commander to avouch himself a military ninny.

"We lack time to find a replacement for Chuivir. Most of the officers in his command are, we suspect, as innocent of war as he. Our seasoned commanders are all with the frontier army. Nor can we appoint you in Chuivir's place. You are a foreigner and a commoner, whom the militia would not obey with any zeal. Moreover, Chuivir has influential friends among the nobility and officials, who would be affronted by our abruptly dismissing him ere he has had time to commit any gross blunder. Even a king with theoretically unlimited power, you know, must constantly make sure of his political support, heh hen."

"Well, sire?" said Jorian as Ishbahar hesitated.

"So we—ah—the thought has come to us: How would you like to be our military aide?"

"What would that entail?"

"Oh, you would wear a fancy uniform. In theory, you would be merely our messenger boy, to carry our commands to the forces and bring us reports of the fighting. In practice, we shall ask you to look over the military situation every day, decide what needs to be done, and advise us accordingly. We shall put your recommendations in the form of royal commands, which you shall convey to Chuivir or whomever else we designate. You will not seem to have any power over the defense but in fact will be in full command thereof. How does that strike you?"

"All I can say, sire, is that I will try my best."

"Good." Ishbahar spoke to the secretary: "Herekit! Draw up a commission for Master Jorian—yes, Ebeji?"

"Sire," said the attendant, who had just come in, "a ship's officer would speak with you on urgent business."

"Oh, curse this churlish world, that will not let a man eat a simple snack in peace! Send him in."

The visitor was a young naval officer with a drawn, ghastly look, who dropped to one knee. "Sire!"

"Well, sir?"

"Admiral Kyar is lost, and the pirates of Algarth are upon us!"

"Eh? Eh? Oh, good gods! How did this happen?"

"The—the admiral took the flagship Ressam out this morn for exercises, accompanied by two small dispatch galleys, the Onuech and the Byari. At sea, we encountered a patch of fog, which some said had the look of sorcerous fog. Then, of a sudden, a swarm of Algarthian craft sped out of the fog and surrounded the Ressam. Being undermanned, she could not work up enough speed to fight clear. The freebooters also took the Onuech; but the Byari, by putting the marines on the oars, won free."

"Were you in command of the Byari?" asked the king.

"Aye, sire. If Your Majesty thinks I ought to have stayed and perished with the admiral—"

"Nay, nay, you did right. Someone had to bring us word. In fact, you are hereby promoted to admiral in place of Kyar. Prepare the rest of our navy for battle." To the secretary, the king said: "Draw up a royal commission for this officer and bring it to us to sign. Now, Admiral, do sit down and try some of this—by Ughroluk's toenails, the young man has fainted! Pour water on him, somebody!"

That evening, Jorian and Karadur stood on the floor of the Tower of Kumashar that housed the clockwork. They looked towards the sea, where the Penembic navy was locked in battle with a fleet of Algarthian pirates. The largest Penembic ships, the huge catamarans, were not even sent into action for want of rowers to man them. The ships that did take part in the battle moved sluggishly for lack of oar power.

"There goes another one," said Jorian as ruddy flames enveloped a ship.

"One of ours or theirs?" said Karadur.

"One of ours, I fear; but 'tis hard to be sure in this failing light."

"How did that young fellow—what's his name—the officer whom the king of a sudden promoted to admiral, how effective has he proven?"

Jorian shrugged. "Considering the generally unprepared state of the fleet and the lack of time, there's no way to tell. Not even Diodis of Zolon, the greatest Novarian sea commander, could have done much in this man's room."

"How do you with Colonel Chuivir?"

"Methinks he suspects the true state of affairs. He seems to take the king's commands with ill grace, even if he has not yet flouted any of them. What worries me is that, if he learn that the Xylarians are after me, he may get word to them to come and take me."

"They could hardly do that, with the city surrounded and under siege."

'True, Doctor. So I'm in a pretty pass, am I not? I'm safe whilst the siege lasts. My duty, howsomever, is to defeat and break it, which will place me again in jeopardy. If on the other hand the besiegers take the city, I shall probably lose my head in that case, too." He reached up and tugged at his head. "Just making sure 'tis firmly fixed in place."

"An we win here, I am sure the king could protect you."

"Perhaps, perhaps. But suppose he find himself straitened for money to pay the cost of the war and hear of the price the Xylarians have placed on my head?"

"Oh, he is a kindly man—"

"For the present; but the day may come when he loves his little Jorian less than the cash I could bring. My taste of kingship has taught me never to trust any ruler. They can always justify any perfidy by saying, 'It's for the people's good.'"

The battle continued for hours in ever-deepening darkness and confusion. Then the surviving Penembic ships broke off and fled up the Lyap. The pirates swept the decks of the anchored ships, both naval and merchant, and invested the shoreline outside the wall of the city.

Next day, a Free Company in flashing armor marched down the Novarian Road from the north; Mazsan's peasant army straggled up from the south; and a swarm of robed, camel-riding nomads from Fedirun approached from the east. The siege had begun.