"For a year or so, Finjanius ran the affairs of Kortoli according to his best lights. Being young, he had little reverence for tradition and introduced many novelties, such as no longer requiring subjects to knock their heads on the ground nine times in approaching him, or no longer forbidding them to speak to him unless he spoke first. This last rule had nearly lost him a military campaign against Aussar, when none of his officers durst warn him of an ambush.
"Finjanius it was who introduced the public bath to Kortoli and encouraged all the people, regardless of age, sex, or rank, to mingle freely in these establishments. Moreover, he patronized them himself and did not scruple to indulge in vulgar horseplay with his subjects, splashing and ducking them and being splashed and ducked in turn.
"Such conduct made him popular with the commons but gravely offended the more conservative elements. These at length determined that Finjanius needs must go. Since the chief priests also belonged to the leading and most tradition-bound families, a consensus was soon obtained. Presently, a delegation of priests waited upon the king with the fatal draft.
" 'Oho!' quotha, 'what is this?'
" The gods,' said the high priest of Zevatas, 'have decided that Your Majesty is no longer worthy to rule.'
" 'How know you that, sirrah?' said Finjanius.
" They have informed us in visions and dreams, sire,' replied the priest. 'They demand the life of the chiefest man of the kingdom, lest they loose their wrath upon the land.'
" 'So they crave the chiefest life, eh?' said the king. He counted the priests and found that there were eight in the party. 'Now, whereas I am doubtless the chief man in Kortoli, you holy fathers are also not without standing. Would you not agree, messires?'
" 'Aye, sire; else we were not qualified to pass the gods' commands on to you.'
" 'In sooth, let us suppose that the life of one of you is worth—ah— let us say, one eighth of mine. That were plausible, were it not?'
" 'Aye, milord king,' said the priest.
" Then,' said Finjanius, 'an the gods desire the chiefest We, they should be just as well satisfied with eight lives, each worth one eighth of mine. Ho, guards! Seize me these eight gentlemen and hang them forthwith!'
"And so it was done. Thereafter none durst broach such a proposal to the king again, and hence the custom fell into abeyance."
King Ishbahar said: "Do you propose, dear Jorian, that we adopt a course like unto your king's?"
"That is up to Your Majesty. It has been done; and what men have done, men can do again." Jorian turned to Karadur. "Is that not one of the proverbs of your Mulvanian sage, what is his name?"
"Cidam," said Karadur.
The king shuddered, his chins quivering. "Alas! Would—would that we had the hardihood to essay such an enterprise." A pair of tears trickled down his fat cheeks. "But we could not defy tradition. We fear we are not of the stuff of your Finjanius." The king burst into sobs and covered his face with his hands.
"Your Majesty!" said Karadur. "An your servitors and guardsmen return and find you weeping, they will think we have entreated you ill and slay us."
The king wiped his face with his napkin and smiled through his tears. "Let us forget our griefs, then. Have some more of this Vindine wine! Master Jorian, we trust you are an entire man, with the usual lusts and faculties?"
"Aye, sire."
"Then you should not find the task confronting you arduous or disagreeable. Whilst a trifle older than you, Sahmet is neither unattractive nor cold. Neither. Remember, it is not just your prick that you pleasure, but our royal neck, as well, that you save. We will have Herekit make you out a commission as Friend of the King forthwith, for such you will be in a most literal way."
"I thank Your Majesty," said Jorian. "When does this sacred orgy take place?"
"At the next full moon, eleven nights hence. Let us drink to your success. May you give Her Sanctity a night she shall remember to her grave!"
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—"