“Aye. And now for the story. You left on the first day of the Month of the Eagle—”
A scream from upstairs interrupted. Since my primary duty was still to Madam Roska, I leaped from the chair and bounded up the stairs, followed by Awad.
Another scream was followed by Roska’s cry of “Zdim! Save me!”
The sound came from her bedchamber. Thither I rushed. In the chamber were Roska and Hvaednir. Roska, with her gown torn from her body, lay supine on the bed. Hvaednir stooped over her with one knee on the bed. The prince was trying to hold down Roska with one hand while he fumbled with the fastening of his breeks with the other.
I had read of this Prime Plane practice called “rape,” in which a male human being copulates with a female against her will. We have nothing like that on the Twelfth Plane, and I had wondered how certain mechanical problems in carrying out this operation—deemed a crime among most human societies—were surmounted.
Having been commanded by Roska to save her, however, I could not indulge my curiosity by standing back and watching with philosophical objectivity. I leaped to the task without stopping to think out all its logical implications. I sprang upon Hvaednir from behind, fastened my talons in his torso, and pulled him back from the bed.
The man fought free of my grasp, although his tunic and the skin beneath it were badly torn in the process. He fetched me a buffet beneath the jaw that staggered me and would, I daresay, have sent a Prime Planer clear across the room. Then we grappled again. I tried to fang his throat, but he got an elbow under my jaw and held me away.
I was amazed at the man’s strength. I had engaged in hand-to-hand combat with Prime Planers before and found them all comparative weaklings. Not only, however, was Hvaednir a virtual giant among Novarians—taller than I and much heavier—but also his muscles seemed to be of unusually good quality. His physical strength was little if any below my own.
We staggered about, stamping, tearing, and kicking. Neither seemed able to gain a definitive advantage. Then I felt a knife hilt pressed into my hand. I drove the blade into Hvaednir’s side, once, twice, and thrice. The huge Hrunting groaned and jerked in my grasp, and the strength fled swiftly from his frame. As I released him, he slumped to the floor. Behind him, little Awad pointed to the long, curved dagger in my hand.
“Mine,” he said.
“I thank you,” I said, bending over my fallen antagonist.
A quick examination disclosed that Hvaednir, the would-be king of Ir, was dead. Madam Roska sat up on the bed, pulling a sheet about her nakedness. She said: “Good gods, Zdim! Why slew you him?”
“What? Why, madam, I heard your cry for help and endeavored to obey your commands. Did you not wish it?”
“Nay! I could not permit him to have his will of me without a ladylike show of resistance, but this! It may cost us all our lives.”
“I am sorry, madam, but nobody had explained these quiddities to me. I try to give satisfaction.”
“I suppose you do, poor dear Zdim. But my so-called virtue is not a matter of such great moment as all that, since I am a widow old enough to be this barbarian’s mother. I might even have enjoyed it after he got under way. Later, as his mistress, I might have guided him for the good of Ir.
“Natheless, that’s all by the bye. The pregnant question is: what now?”
I heard the voice of Shnorri, calling: “Cousin Hvaednir! Your Majesty! Where are you?”
“Shnorri is our only hope,” I said. “Let me fetch him, pray.” Without awaiting arguments, I put my head out the door and called: “Prince Shnorri! Up here! Come alone!”
“Is aught wrong?” said he as his head appeared at the top of the stairway.
“You shall judge, sir. Good or ill, it is of the utmost moment.”
When he saw Hvaednir’s body, he rushed over to it and confirmed that the man was dead. “Who did this? How befell it?”
“I will explain,” I said, standing with my back to the door in case Shnorri attempted to rush out and summon his men. If needful, I should have slain him, told the bodyguards that their commanders were asleep, and fled the city. When I had finished, Shnorri said: “I might have known the drunken fool would get into something like this. If only he had had a noble mind to go with that splendid body . . . But what now? The warriors will burn you over a slow fire if they find out. I understand your side of it; but the reason is that I have dwelt amongst Novarians and hence am only half-nomad in outlook.”
“Sir,” I said, “marked you that corpse in the living room?”
“Aye, and I meant to ask about it.”
I explained about the dead warrior. “Now,” I said, “let us do as follows: tell the soldiers that the lady Roska retired to her room to rest; that the dead man, who was merely stunned and not gravely hurt, recovered consciousness, slipped upstairs, and essayed to rape Madam Roska; that Hvaednir, hearing her outcry, rushed to her rescue; and that in the affray, he and the warrior each dealt the other a mortal wound. Then there will be nobody to blame.”
There was some argument over this plan, but none could think of a better. Roska slipped into the adjacent dressing room to make herself presentable. I told Shnorri: “At least, if Ir be ruled by nomads, you were a better monarch than your late cousin.”
“Not I!” quotha. “I shall be glad to get out of this beastly heat and to take the warriors with me, ere they be softened by Novarian luxury. Hvaednir’s was a chancy scheme at best. A cleverer man might have carried it off; but then it would have weakened the horde back on the steppe. We shall need every man to confront the Gendings. Help me to carry the dead warrior up to this room, that our story shall hang together.
XII
ADMIRAL DIODIS
I said: “It strikes me, Prince Shnorri, that Madam Roska and I had better get out of Ir ere you announce your cousin’s demise. You human beings are easily excited by rumors. If some of your men think up a story different from yours, I should not care to be in their power when it happened.”
After some small debate, Shnorri acknowledged that we had right on our side. We went down to the living room, where Shnorri summoned a chief.
“Take these two outside Ardyman’s Tower,” he said, “and lend them horses from the general reserve herd.”
A quarter-hour later, we were on our way.
“Whither, O Zdim?” said Roska.
“Admiral Diodis, meseems, offers us the safest refuge till these things blow over. If attacked, he can sail down the Kyamos and away.”
So it proved. The stout, grizzled admiral welcomed us heartily aboard his flagship. He had already recalled his men to the ships, and the shallow-draft fleet lay anchored well out from shore, so that surprise was unlikely.
Seated on Diodis’ quarterdeck, we were served a hot, reddish-brown beverage. The admiral explained: “ ’Tis called ‘tea’ in its land of origin, which is Kuromon in the Far East. It comes in the form of dried leaves to Salimor, and thence to Janareth in the Inner Sea, and thence by land over the Lograms to Fedirun, and at last to the sea again at Iraz. Let’s hope it will someday be for sale in Novaria, too. We need a good drink that won’t make us drunk.
“Now, O Zdim, tell us the tale of your adventures.”
I launched into my story. After I had been speaking for some minutes, however, I observed that Admiral Diodis and Madam Roska were paying me little heed. Instead, they were watching each other, betimes exchanging some irrelevant comment in an undertone. They smiled and laughed a lot.
At length, this became so marked that I let my narrative trail off while I enjoyed my tea. They never noticed.
The following day, Prince Shnorri and some of his chiefs rode to the water’s edge and waved. The admiral and I were rowed in a longboat to within speaking distance.
“Come back to Ir and bid us farewell!” said Shnorri.
“Are you packed to depart?” asked the admiral.
“Certes. Fear not; there was no difficulty about the story of my cousin’s death, and my own fe
elings are entirely friendly.” Since he spoke Novarian, his chiefs could not understand him.
“We appreciate that,” said Diodis, “but this will do as well as any place for a farewell.”
“I know what you suspect, but it is not so. At noon I shall light my cousin’s funeral pyre and give the command to march. It were worth your while to be there, Admiral, since I understand that Ir owes you money, too. Now were the time to present your reckoning.”
“But if you Shvenites have cleaned the city out?”
“We have not. I have taken only so much as was needed to meet Zdim’s contract. The balance should suffice for Zolon’s claims. Bring a guard of sailors if you trust us not. Or stay on your ships, if you prefer, and take your chances of collecting from the Syndicate later, when gratitude has been weakened by casuistry and self-interest.”
“We’ll come,” said the admiral.
###
Prince Shnorri thrust a torch into the pyre, atop of which lay Hvaednir’s body. As the roaring fire hid the corpse in flame and smoke, the ranked Hruntings burst into sobs. Hardly a cheek among them was not wet with tears. Shnorri said aside to me: “Come back in a hundred years, Zdim, and you will find that Hvaednir has become the hero of a cycle of legends—the pure, noble, beautiful ideal of the Hruntings. His shortcomings will be forgotten, whilst his virtues will have been exaggerated out of all recognition.”
We talked of this and that, and I said: “Pray tell me, Prince; you know Prime Planers better than I. See you that pair yonder, Admiral Diodis and Madam Roska?’
“Aye.”
“Well, ever since we boarded the flagship yesterday, they have been acting out of character—at least, as far as I could judge their character—to so marked a degree that I am baffled, who thought myself fairly familiar with the oddities of Prime Plane nature.”
“What puzzles you?”
“By herself, Roska sar-Blixens is a grave, reserved lady, a great dignity and presence, even if she be ever changing her mind. Admiral Diodis is gruff, positive, and forceful. Both are, one would say, as mature as one would ever expect of a human being. Yet, when together, they seem as full of careless laughter and foolish remarks as children, and they seem interested in each other to the exclusion of all else.”
“It is simple,” said Shnorri. “They are in love.”
“Ah! I have read of this emotion in my studies, but never having witnessed the phenomenon I did not recognize it. Will they now mate?”
He shrugged. “How should I know? I know not if Diodis already have a wife; or, if he have, whether the laws of Zolon permit him to take a second. I daresay, however, that the old sea dog and your gracious mistress will presently find means to warm the same bed.
“And now we must part. If you ever get to Othomae, tell old Doctor Kylus that I wish I had taken his offer of a readership in the Academy. I know I am too fat, lazy, and good-natured to be a nomadic warrior chieftain, but the gods seem determined to make me one.”
“Could you bear the Novarian summer heat? It seems to undo you.”
“Yes, with a summer camp in the Lograms, even that.”
“Then, what stops you from riding to Othomae and taking up this academic career?”
“Tribal duty and loyalty, curse them. Fare you well!”
With the help of two warriors, he heaved himself into the saddle. Then he waved to the crowd and trotted off. The squadrons of Hrunting horsemen swung into line behind him, and then went the mammoths and the rear guard. Shnorri might be a fine fellow, but we were all glad to see the last of that formidable host.
The dust of their departure had scarcely settled when the admiral, too, presented his scot for the expedition to Algarth and for his help against the Paaluans. Jimmon and the other Syndics looked aghast; but, thoroughly cowed, they did not dare to risk another clash. They paid. As they were counting out the money in the Guildhall under Diodis’ watchful eye, Roska said: “Everybody’s being requited for his part in the rescue save the one man—I mean being—to whom we owe the most. That is my bondservant Zdim.”
“By Thio’s horns!” cried Jimmon. “We shall be beggared as it is, Roska. If you are fain to reward your demon, nought stops you.”
She set her mouth in that expression that, among human beings, betokens stubbornness. “ ’Twere only fair that, since all profited, all should share in the recompense. Am I not right, Diodis?”
“Sink me!” said the admiral. “It’s no business of mine; but if you insist, my dear Roska, I must own that you are right as always. Perhaps, howsomever, it were well to ask Master Zdim what he would like. Don’t assume that, like a mere human being, he lusts for silver and gold.”
“Well, Zdim?” said Jimmon.
“Sirs,” I said, “I seek to fulfill my obligations. But since you ask, what I should most like is to be freed from my indenture, like the other slaves and bondservants of Ir. Then I wish to be sent back to my own plane, to rejoin my wife and eggs. Oh, and besides, I should appreciate a few ingots of iron to be sent with me.”
The relief on the Syndics’ faces would have made me laugh, had I been capable of that human sound and had I possessed the human quality called a sense of humor.
###
The magical operation was performed in the sanctum of Doctor Maldivius, under the ruined temple of Psaan near Chemnis. Having by his magical arts avoided the cannibals’ bouncer cavalry when they were scouring the land for human flesh, Maldivius had returned to his old abode. When I arrived, I was astonished to see another bent, white-haired figure.
“Yurog!” I cried. “What do you here? I thought you had returned to the Ellornas with the Hruntings.”
“Me apprentice to Doctor Maldivius. Me learn to be great wizard.”
To Maldivius I said: “Is it not unusual for a magician of advanced years to take as apprentice another as old as himself?”
“That’s my business, demon,” snapped Maldivius. “Yurog does what I tell him, which is more than I can say for the silly young bucks I’ve tried. Ahem. Now sit on those ingots in the pentacle.”
Madam Roska stopped holding hands with the admiral long enough to step forward and plant a lass on my muzzle. “Farewell, darling Zdim!” she said. “I’ve returned Maldivius’ Sapphire to him to enlist his cooperation. Give my love to your wife and eggs.”
“Thank you, madam. I have endeavored to give satisfaction.”
Diodis added: “Do you demons need an admiral to organize your navy? I thought someday I should like to take a year off and see some other plane.”
“Not practicing the art of war, we have no navies,” I said. “But we do have shipping. If occasion arise, sir, I will tell the demons concerned of your interest.”
I sat down on the two-hundred-weight ingots of iron. Maldivius and Yurog began their incantation. Ere the scene faded out, I waved to the several Prime Planers who had come to see me off. I was happy to have been able to keep in touch with these human beings to the end of my stay. Many others with whom I had come in contact, such as Bagardo the Great, Aithor of the Woods, and Gavindos the wrestler-archon, vanished from my ken; I know not what befell them.
I was glad to learn that Ungah the apeman survived the cannibal war. A Paaluan sentry saw him in the camp and wounded him in the leg with a javelin. He would have been slain, but just then the uproar caused by my own discovery on the far side of the camp distracted the sentry, and Ungah escaped.
He got as far as the border of Metouro, but then his leg became so bad that he could no longer walk. He would have perished had not a local witch-wife taken him in and nursed him back to health. By the time he was able to travel on, the war was over; so he settled down with his rescuer to stay. I was told that she was a singularly ugly woman; but to Ungah she doubtless looked like a female of his own species and therefore just his heart’s desire.
###
Provost Hwor looked at the two ingots. “Why the man did you not bring more with you?” he barked.
Expecting praise, I bec
ame wroth. “Because this is all their spell would carry across the dimensional barrier!” I cried. “If you like them not, send them back.”
“There, there, my good Zdim, I meant no harm. Yeth will be delighted to see you half a year ahead of time.”
“How fared our clutch of eggs?”
“Most of them hatched safely, I hear.”
“Then I am off for home!”
###
A PETITION TO THE PROVOST OF NING, FROM ZDIM AKH’S SON AND HIS WIFE, YETH PTYG’S DAUGHTER:
You are familiar with the circumstances of my indenture on the Prime Plane a few years back. Having returned safely to the Twelfth Plane, I thought I should never again wish to see the Prime Plane, so vastly less rational, logical, and predictable than our own.
Now, however, that our offspring are of school age and hence independent, my wife and I should like to know if arrangements could be made for us to remove to the Prime Place for an extended residence. In case the regulations require that an equal number of Prime Planers be moved to this plane to maintain the balance of energy, I know at least two Prime Planers who said they might like to shift to the Twelfth Plane. I will undertake to find them and arrange the transfer.
As for gaining my living, I have several plans in mind. For example, I have the name of a professor at one of their institutions of learning, who might have a position for me. After all, I am a trained philosopher and, from what I saw. of the Prime Plane, I gather that amongst those folk the science of philosophy is in utter disarray. If that fail, I have other connections and acquaintances. Fear not that I shall be unable to earn an adequate income.
If you wonder why I present this request, know that, despite the hazards and hardships of life there and the rampant irrationality of its people, the world has many fascinations. One never gets bored, as I fear one often does in our well-run world. Something interesting is always happening.
Respectfully yours,
Zdim
The Fallable Fiend Page 16