Then another form loomed out of the dark. The intended blow went awry. Jorian climbed shakily to his feet to see two bulky bodies grappling, grunting, and cursing. One combatant caught the other's arm and twisted. The ax fell with a clang.
"I got him, Master Jorian!" panted Boso's grating voice. "Kill the bastard!"
Jorian felt about and gathered up the ax. For an instant he hovered about the struggling pair, peering to make sure he should not strike the wrong man. Both were stocky, burly men in rough, nondescript clothes, but in the fog-shrouded darkness he could not discern faces.
"What are you waiting for?" rasped Boso.
The direction of the voice at last told Jorian which was which. He brought the flat of the ax down hard on the head of his assailant; at the third blow, the stranger collapsed.
"Why'n't you slay him?" said Boso.
"I want to know who he is and what he's up to first," said Jorian. He turned to see how Margalit fared, but she had already regained her feet.
"Are you hurt?" Jorian asked.
"Nay, save for a bruised fundament. Who is this footpad?"
"That's what I mean to learn. Take one leg, Boso, and I will take the other. How did you arrive so opportunely?"
"I heard the lady cry out and rushed into the street," said Boso.
Halfway down the block, a golden rectangle appeared in the fog as Goania's door opened again and the wizardess stood in it with a light. Jorian and Boso hauled the body in and laid it out on Goania's floor, while she leaned over it with a lamp. The man was heavyset, with a strip of cloth covering his face below the eyes. Jorian set down the ax, an ordinary workman's tool, and jerked off the mask.
"Malgo the bailiff!" he exclaimed. "I owed him a few knocks, but wherefore should he strive to murder me?"
Goania poured a dipper of cold water on the man's face. Choking and coughing, Malgo returned to consciousness.
"We should tie him up," said Jorian. "He's a strong rascal."
"I'll see to that," said Goania. She went out and returned with a couple of lengths of rope. She spoke to these and, like tame serpents, one of them wrapped itself around Malgo's wrists and the other around his ankles.
"A couple of minor spirits, whom I have enlisted in my service," she said.
Jorian peeled off the turban. The cloth was slit in several places, where the edge of the ax had penetrated, and stained crimson, where blood had seeped from a scalp wound.
"My best turban cloth!" lamented Karadur.
"I'll get you another," said Jorian. "Henvin the Costumer probably carries them. I owe it to you, since those layers of cloth saved my worthless life." He turned to Malgo, now sitting on the floor with his back to the settee, glaring. "Now then, you, speak!"
"Screw you!" snarled Malgo.
"Why did you try to kill me?"
"That's my affair."
"Oh, is it?" Jorian smiled unpleasantly. "Mistress Goania, may I trouble you for assistance in opening up this mangy scrowle? I am sure you have some ingenious methods in your magical repertory."
"Let me think," she said. "There is a small Seventh Plane demon who is madly in love with me and will do aught I ask. Naturally I cannot accede to his wishes, not wishing to be burnt to a crisp. But if I loose him on Master Malgo, he will do some interesting things, beginning with the man's private parts."
"Oh, I'll talk," growled Malgo with fear in his eyes. "I wanted to slay you because you lost me my job."
"What?" said Jorian. "I had naught to do with that! I never even knew you had been dismissed."
"Well, I was, and I know you did it, by complaining to the Grand Duke."
"You're dreaming! I have not seen the Grand Duke, nor have I complained to his officers, though the gods know I had cause to. Who told you this?"
"I won't tell."
"Goania, how about the fiery imp of yours?"
"Oh, I'll tell, I'll tell. Just let not that witch set her spooks on me. Twas Doctor Abacarus at the Academy. I paid him a pretty penny to divine the cause of my dismissal, and he named you."
"You wasted your money," said Jorian. "Abacarus merely sought revenge on me for besting him in a dispute over a debt."
"I can tell you why Malgo was dismissed," said Goania. "I know the Grand Duchess Ninuis—we serve on the same committee to succor the poor—and she is a great gossip. She told me the examining magistrate caught Malgo buggering a young prisoner in his cell. For some legal reason they could not pin a criminal charge on Malgo, but they could toss him out of his post."
"There you are," said Jorian. "Now, what shall we do with this scum?"
"If it was me, I'd kill him," said Boso.
"A pious idea; but then we should have a body to dispose of. And perhaps the swine has friends, who would ask after him. I suppose he is an Othomaean citizen, but I am not."
"I'd still kill him," said Boso. "If any man tried to slay me—"
"I agree with your sentiments, friend Boso; but we must be practical. Any other suggestions?"
"We could surrender him to the law," said Karadur.
"Nay," said Goania. "Jorian has the right of it. Malgo has friends in high places, little though you might expect it. There is a nest of his kind, headed by Lord—but I will not name names. This lord has power, and doubtless his intervention set Malgo free. If we have him arrested, the legal mills will grind on forever whilst Master Malgo is out on bail to make another try."
Margalit said: "We hear a lot about the corruption in high places of Vindium; but from what I hear, 'tis just as rife here."
'True," said Goania. 'The difference is that the Grand Duchy has more effective means of covering its corruption in high places."
Jorian asked: "What's the source of Lord Nameless's power? Is Gwitlac the Fat one of Malgo's brotherhood—"
"Hush!" hissed Goania, looking nervously around. "Do not say things like that within the bourne of the Grand Duchy, unless you would destroy us all! But to answer your question: nay, the Grand Duke is normal in that respect. It is purely political; this lord is one of his strongest supporters. Ninuis loathes the man, but she has not been able to turn Gwitlac against him."
"We'll forget arresting Malgo, then," said Jorian. "It were more to the point to set the law on Abacarus; Malgo is but his tool."
"Aye, but the same objections apply. Abacarus would deny the whole thing, and what were Malgo's word against his?"
Margalit asked: "Could you feed Malgo a love potion or something, so that he would do whatever Jorian commanded?"
"I fear," said Goania, "that Malgo would not make a satisfactory servant, no matter what geases we put upon him. He might be made to obey Jorian, but that would not stop him from stealing Jorian's possessions, or holding a sodomitical orgy in Jorian's room in his master's absence. If we compelled him to love Jorian, his manner of expressing his love might not meet with Jorian's approval."
"You ought to make him suffer somehow," said Boso. "It's only right. If it was me, I wouldn't be a man if I let him off free."
'True," Jorian said. "But I am less interested in revenge than in getting him out of the way. We can't have him running loose here, and Goania does not think he can be reduced to useful magical slavery. Goania, can you put a spell on him to make him obey one command from me? Implicitly?"
"Aye, within limits."
"Going to make him kill himself?" asked Boso with a grin.
"Nay, though the idea has merit."
"That would not work anyway," said Goania. "The spell cannot make him contravene his basic instincts."
"How," asked Jorian, "would it be to command him to kill Abacarus? That would be a fair turnabout."