Outnumbered, the newcomers were soon overborne. Jorian sped a fierce thrust through the body of one, while the Xylarian was engaged with Zerlik. As the man fell, the remaining four set up a cry:
"Out! Flee! Save himself who can!"
The four burst through their opponents and out the door. Two dragged another, half-stunned by a blow from Theudus' mallet. The three still on their feet displayed slashed clothing and oozing wounds. The faces of two were masks of blood from head wounds. A flourish of weapons sent the spectators fleeing, and the quartet vanished into the gathering dark.
Inside, two surveyors bound up cuts, while Ikadion sat with head in hands, nursing a growing lump on his pate from a Xylarian bludgeon. The first man whom Jorian had struck down was dead; the other coughed bloody froth.
"My nice tavern!" wailed Theudus, surveying the wreckage.
"We didn't do it wantonly, Master Theudus," said Jorian, leaning on his sword and breathing hard. "Bear a hand with cleaning up, Floro. You, too, Vilerias. Tot up the cost of breakage, mine host, and Master Zerlik will pay."
"What?" shrilled Zerlik.
"Charge it against the sum Karadur entrusted to you on my behalf."
"Are you in sooth the fugitive King Jorian of Xylar?" said a surveyor in an awed tone.
Jorian ignored the question and turned to Theudus, who stood over the wounded Xylarian. The taverner said:
"This fellow may linger for hours, but I misdoubt he'll survive. Someone should fetch the constable; there must be an inquest on these manslayings."
"Inquest all you like, but without me," said Jorian. "I'm off with Master Zerlik."
Theudus shook his head. " 'Tis not lawful, to leave town ere the magistrate has dismissed you. There might be charges."
"I'm sorry. Whereas I am a reasonably law-abiding wight, I can't wait around for another gang to lay me by the heels, whilst your men of the law mumble gravely in their beards. Pay Master Theudus, O Zerlik." While Zerlik rumbled with his purse, Jorian donned his hat and shouldered his duffel bag. "Now let's forth!"
"But, Master Jorian!" said Zerlik. "It is all but dark."
"So much the better."
"But we shall get lost or overset the chariot—"
"Fear not; I'll drive. There's a moon, and I know the roads hereabouts."
Heavily laden with three men and their gear, Zerlik's chariot, drawn by a pair of handsome Fediruni whites, reached the village of Evrodium around midnight. Zerlik climbed down shakily, saying:
"Methought my last moment had come a hundred times, Master Jorian. Where got you that skill with driving a car?"
Jorian laughed. "I can do many things, some passing well and some not so well. I'm probably the only wandering adventurer especially trained for the role."
When they had secured quarters, Zerlik asked Jorian to elucidate his last remark. Over dinner, Jorian—who had a weakness for talk—explained.
"I got into the king business by happenstance. I was about your age and had been apprenticed to various crafts, such as clockmaking and carpentry, and had served a hitch in the army of Othomae. When that was over, I wandered into Xylar to see what might turn up. I happened upon the drill field outside Xylar City on the day of the casting of the Lot of Imbal, when they behead the old king and toss his head to the crowd.
"When, not knowing this curious custom, I saw this dark, round thing whirling towards me, I caught it without thinking. To my horror I found that I was the new king of Xylar, having caught my predecessor's gory head.
"As soon as I learnt that the same fate awaited me five years thence, I sought means to escape. I tried to flee, to bribe my way out, to persuade the Xylarians to change their damned system, and even to drink myself to death, all without avail.
"Then I learnt that, with the help of Doctor Karadur's spells, I might just possibly escape, in return for a favor I was able to do him. Did I succeed, howsomever, the Xylarians would pursue me to the ends of the earth, since their laws suffer not a new king to be chosen by any but the prescribed method, and therefore they must essay to drag me back and resume their interrupted rite to permit public business to go on."
"How if the king die in office?" asked Zerlik. "Or if you die ere they can recapture you?"
"They have other procedures in such cases; but they are irrelevant to me, since I'm not yet dead and have no yearning to become so. To resume: Knowing that I was virtually condemned—should my escape succeed—to the life of a wandering adventurer, I prepared myself therefore by the practice of such arts as acting, rough-and-tumble fighting, sleight-of-hand, cozenage, and burglary. For these, I had the tutoring of some of the most unsavory rogues in the Twelve Cities. But some of their lessons have proven most serviceable."
Zerlik: "Do you like this irregulous life?"
"Nay. My real ambition is to be a respectable craftsman or tradesman—a surveyor, for ensample—earning a decent if modest living, rearing a family, meeting my obligations, and plaguing no man. A peaceful bourgeois life would suit me well, but it seems to flee before me like the end of a rainbow."
"If you knew the Xylarians were after you, why took you this post in Ir, next door to Xylar? Why not work in some more distant place, like Zolon or Tarxia?"
"Because the Xylarians hold something I wish: to wit, my wife. Therefore I skulk about their borders, seeking means to get her out."
"Oh. Is this the Estrildis whereof the letter from Karadur speaks?"
Jorian gave Zerlik a hard look. "By Imbal's iron pizzle, young sir, you seem to have made rather free with my private correspondence!"
"Oh, but Jorian, Doctor Karadur requested that I memorize the message, in case the letter were lost or destroyed!"
"Ah, that's different. Ay, 'tis she."
"Oh. I have heard that you Novarians entertain romantical notions about women. When one has several wives, as I have, one takes a particular woman less seriously."
"I had several wives, too, when I was king. Five, in fact; the Xylarians allow a plurality of wives to the king but not to his subjects. Mulvanian or Penembic influence in the southern tier, I suppose. But this was the last, and the one I chose myself."
"Really?" Zerlik patted a yawn. "It is hard for me to imagine going to such trouble and risk over any woman. After all, they are all basically alike."
"I have not found them so."
Zerlik shrugged. "But why? It cannot be that you were otherwise condemned to a celibate life, for you Novanans seem to have no such rigid interdicts against fornication and adultery as, I am told, obtain among the Mulvanians. Is it that this woman is rich, and you wish to possess yourself of her property?"
"Not at all; she's a Kortolian farmer's daughter."
"Is she then of extraordinary beauty?"
"Not even that. She's a pretty little thing, with golden hair like a Shvenite; but of stocky build and too thick in the ankles to please the connoisseur of female beauty. No, Zerlik, it's what we call love."
"Oh, we have this 'love' amongst us, too. In our land, however, to fall in love is accounted a misfortune—a kind of madness. It leads men to entangle themselves with unsuitable women, causing their kin distress and embarrassment. Ordinarily, our parents choose our wives for us, very sensibly, by go-betweens, with the advice of astrologers and haruspices."
"This is not quite the same as your falling in love, laddie. Let me merely say that I enjoy Estrildis' company more than that of any other person I have known, and I am fain to have more of it, until death do us part."
"Well, I wish you joy of it. But does not one become bored with a single woman?"
"That depends. Having tried your system, I have no faith in it, either."
"How so?"
"There's a jingle that explains: