The Fallable Fiend (13 page)

They even roped my jaws together so that I could not open them. Then they bore me to an inclosure and tossed me in. Several cannibals stood around with spears poised, lest I somehow conjure my way out of my bonds.

I spent several painful, tedious hours thus. At dawn, I was picked up again, carried to the largest tent, and dumped inside before the high command.

###

This was my first chance to see Paaluans closely in good light. They were a tall folk, mostly lean, albeit there were a few stout ones among them. They had black—or at least very dark brown—skins. Their heads were covered by curly mops of black or brown hair, and they wore beards as well.

Unlike the Novarians and the Shvenites, they had no tabu against public nudity. Save for some who wore pieces of leather armor, and the feather cloaks of the high officers, they went completely naked. Their dark skins were painted with gaudy designs of several colors, red and white being the favorites. Far from concealing their sexual organs, as do most Prime Planers, they painted them in contrasting colors to make them more conspicuous.

They had low foreheads and large bony ridges above their eyes, on which the brows grew, so that their dark eyes seemed to peer out from little caverns. Their noses were extremely wide and flat, with no bridge. The mouths that opened in those great curly beards were very wide.

On a drum in the midst of the tent, surrounded by lesser officers and guards, sat the central figure in this tableau. He had a luxuriant, curry beard, turning from black to gray. Around his neck hung a golden chain, whence depended, below his beard, a large golden plaque or medallion—perhaps his insigne of rank.

Among the attendants was one who looked like a Novarian. He wore Novarian costume, but over it a leathern cuirass of Paaluan pattern.

There was talk, in an unfamiliar language, among these men. They stared at me as they spoke. At last the Novarian said: “What are you, creature? Can you speak a human tongue?”

Since I still had the rope around my jaws, I could only grunt. The men presently saw my difficulty. With a laugh, one cut the jaw rope.

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

“Oh,” said the Novarian, “you speak Novarian?”

“Aye, sir. Whom have I the pleasure of addressing?”

“Charondas of Xylar, chief engineering officer to His Excellency General Ulola, commander of this foraging expedition.”

“Sir,” I said, “is it not unusual for a Novarian to occupy such a position in this foreign army?”

“Very,” said Charondas, “I am now, however, an honorary Paaluan, having changed my allegiance. One must dwell amongst the Paaluans to appreciate their virtues; they are true gentlemen.”

“And the gentleman on the drum, I take it, is General Ulola?”

“Aye.”

“Well, kindly convey my respects to him, since I speak not his language.”

Charondas translated, and the Paaluans burst into laughter. The renegade explained: “They’re amused that a prisoner—and an inhuman one at that—should, whilst lying bound by twenty pounds of rope, natheless display such courtly manners.”

“They are the manners I was taught on my own plane,” I said. “Now, could you please tell me—”

“Look here, creature,” said Charondas, “it is for us to question, not you. First, who and what are you?”

I explained. The general spoke, and Charondas asked: “He would know if you are that same ouph who passed through our camp in the other direction, six or seven sennights ago?”

“I suppose I am. I know of no other Twelfth Planer hereabouts.”

“This relieves the general’s mind; he’s been concerned lest the sentry who bore the tale had been suffering hallucinations. And now, what’s your purpose in seeking stealthily to mich back into doomed Ir?”

“I am sorry, sir, but I do not think it proper to answer that question.”

“We have ways of making prisoners talk,” said Charondas.

Just then, an officer came in and handed the general the two copies of the proposed contract between the Irians and the Hruntings, which I had been carrying. After more converse, Ulola gave the documents to Charondas. The renegade unrolled one and began to read it aloud, translating into Paaluan.

When he had finished, there was more talk. Then Charondas said: “Since these documents tell us what we need to know about your mission, we shan’t have to question you. It but remains to decide what to do with you.”

He spoke with the general and again to me: “It is decided to execute you, as we do all Novarians we catch. The general says, however, that we shall not eat you, for you might disagree with us. You’ll be served to our dragons instead.”

“Well, sirs,” I said, “you have me in a position to do as you please with me. But if you will pardon my saying so, such an act does seem a bit drastic, when I have only striven to furnish satisfaction and obey my masters’ hest.”

Charondas translated this remark and the general’s reply. The ensuing indirect discussion between me and the general went as follows: “Demon, we have nought against your kind as a whole. But, by working for the Novarians, you have incurred their guilt. You have committed a moral outrage that merits instant death.”

“How so, General?”

“The Novarians, like the other folk of this continent, are irredeemably wicked and therefore should be destroyed.”

“What does their wickedness consist of, sir?”

“In making war upon one another. We have looked into the matter and know they are all given to this vile practice.”

“But, General, you are currently making war upon them, are you not? Wherein, then, lies your right to judge them?”

“Oh, we are not making war! We are conducting a foraging or harvesting expedition. We harvest a crop—a human crop—and we do it for the simple, normal, wholesome purpose of feeding our people. Since all creatures must eat, this is a natural and hence moral procedure. But to slay men for no good reason is wicked and immoral. Those who practice it deserve no mercy.”

“But, General, I am told that the folk of this continent, when they make war, claim to have equally just reasons.”

“What reasons? So that some political adventurer can extend his rule over more human beings, or seize their wealth, or convert them to his particular superstition, or kill them off so that his own folk can occupy their land?”

“How about those who defend themselves against such attacks? We demons of my plane do not practice war, but we do recognize the right of self-defense.”

“That is a mere pretext. Two of these nations go to war, each claiming the other has attacked it, which is obviously absurd—albeit the most diligent inquiry might not be able to assign the true blame. Besides, if one of these paleface nations defends itself now, you can be sure that it has attacked some neighbor in the past.

“Nay, the only legitimate reason for slaying another human being is to eat him. So the only sensible thing is to round up the whole fractious lot, salt them down, and consume them. Since we Paaluans do not engage in war, we are obviously more moral than the palefaces, and it is therefore right and proper that we should so use them.

“But enough of this, demon. We have sentenced you to death, which is normally by decapitation. Charondas tells me, however, that you demons are of very tough fiber, and an ordinary ax or sword might give you no more than a flesh wound. Have you any suggestions?”

“Yes, General. Commute my sentence to banishment back to my own plane.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Ulola spoke to Charondas, who replied in Paaluan. Then Charondas said to me: “The general has commissioned me to build a beheading machine that shall take care of you, demon. A few hours should suffice. We shall see you anon.”

Several soldiers bore me back to the inclosure, dumped me in, and stood guard over me. The day was one of the most unpleasant of my Prime Plane experience, combining apprehension with tedium. None fetched me water or did aught else to alleviate my discomfort. I had no hope of rescue by the Hruntings, since Hvaednir had decided not to move until I brought the signed contract back from Ir.

Under the circumstances, there was nothing else for me to do but sink into a digestive torpor. I was getting muckle tired of being mewed up in this tyrannous manner.

Early next day, I was dragged out of the inclosure and taken to a place before the general’s tent. A gang of Paaluans were putting the finishing touches on Charondas’ machine. This consisted of, first, a beheading block of the conventional kind, grooved for the reception of the victim’s neck and chin. Fifteen feet away stood a massive wooden framework, in which a log was pivoted at one end. The lower end of this pole was fitted with a short axle, which in turn revolved in a pair of stout uprights. The upper end bore a huge blade, like an ax blade but several times as large. The Paaluan smiths must have worked all day and all night to get this piece of steel ready.

Beyond the pole and its foundation, a tall, three-legged wooden structure provided support for a pulley, over which ran the rope that held the log nearly upright. When the rope was released, the log would fall forward, bringing the blade down on the block—probably with enough force to split it in twain. This engine would have done for beheading a mammoth.

As the Paaluans hauled me to the block and laid my neck across it, I called out to General Ulola, who stood nearby with his officers: “Sir, permit me to say that I truly believe this to be an unjustifiable and imprudent procedure. Yesterday I lacked the time to marshal my arguments in logical order, but if you will defer this function until I can explain, I am sure I can convince you—”

General Ulola said something to Charondas, who laughed and said to me: “O Zdim, the general wonders at a being who, about to lose his head, can still argue quillets of logic.”

Charondas spoke to another Paaluan, who stepped to the tall tripod of timber with an ax. I saw that he meant to sever the rope that held the pole against falling. Ulola raised his arm to signal the ax man.

Before the general could lower his arm, there came a trumpet blast. This was followed by more trumpet calls, whistles, drums, and general uproar. Paaluans ran hither and thither, shouting. Some went by, pulling on their armor. The general, too, ran off. Dragon-lizards waddled past me with armed men on their backs.

Bound as I was, I could not truly see what was happening. From the noise, I inferred that Hvaednir must have changed his mind and attacked the camp.

The noise waxed even louder. I could discern the clatter of weapons and the screams of wounded men. After some time, the racket receded, as if the battle were rolling away from the camp. Had Hvaednir been repulsed?

Then the noise rose again, but from another direction. A few Paaluans ran past. After them came a multitude in the garb of Novarian sailors. They swirled past and out of sight.

A few lingered. One, in an officer’s uniform, said: “And what in the nine hells is this?”

“Sir,” I said, “permit me. I am a demon named Zdim, in the service of the Syndicate of Ir. To whom have I the pleasure of speaking?”

“Well, what do you here? Oh, I see; the cannibals were about to shorten you by a head. Ho, Zarko! Cut not that rope! Come hither and sever this thing’s bonds. If it be a foe of the cannibals, it must be a friend of ours.”

The sailor cut the ropes that bound me. While rubbing my limbs to restore circulation, I again asked the name of my rescuer.

“I am Diodis, High Admiral of Zolon,” said the officer. I knew that the High Admiral was the chief executive of that island principality. “Explanations were too long for now, and I must forth with my men.”

“Sir,” said I, “if you will kindly lend me a weapon, I shall be glad to play my part in this affray, since the Paaluans have given me no cause to love them.”

“Better not mix it in the front ranks, lest you be slain in ignorance by one of your own side. I have it! You shall stay by me as a bodyguard, eh? Come along!” he barked, and trotted off towards the main gate.

I followed the admiral, who had a brusquely authoritative way not easy to gainsay. We climbed a watchtower that flanked the main gate, whence we had a splendid view. A stream of messengers came and went, swarming up and down the ladder to our eyrie.

Before us, an extraordinary sight was spread out. To avoid confusion, permit me to summarize what I learnt later, piece by piece, about the situation.

Having destroyed the pirates of Algarth, the Zolonian fleet had sailed back to Chemnis to collect their pay from the Syndicate before returning to Zolon. Arriving at Chemnis, however, they found the harbor full of strange-looking craft manned by small numbers of naked black men, who shot arrows at them as they neared. The admiral ordered an attack and soon captured all the strange ships.

The admiral deduced that the main Paaluan force had marched up the Kyamos to attack Ir. So he chose a fleet of vessels of shallow draft, both Zolonian and Paaluan. He loaded them with armed men and brought them up the Kyamos. They anchored at the mouth of the unnavigable Vomantikon and marched up that affluent.

The Hrunting scouts saw this force, and the chiefs sent to demand their purpose. When the nomads learnt that the Zolonians meant to break the siege of Ir, they decided that, if they expected any pay at all for their long march, they needs must attack the Paaluans themselves, before the Zolonians could do so. Although the Zolonian force was small compared to their own, there was a chance that a surprise attack would rout the cannibals. Then the Irians would refuse to pay the Hrunting army one penny, on the ground that they had done nought to earn it.

The Hrunting chiefs were not rash. The five hundred Irians, who had arrived in the camp, were sent out as a decoy force, with a few hundred Hrunting horsemen to protect them from being surrounded. The Irians attacked the camp but let themselves be driven back. Filled with ardor, the Paaluan army poured out of the camp in pursuit—dragons, bouncers, and foot.

As soon as the Paaluans were clear of the camp, Yurog cast his cold spell. Down from the sky roared freezing winds. These not only discomfited the naked cannibals but also slowed the dragons to a gradual stop, like some mechanism that has run down. Now they stood like so many gray stone statues all over the plain, some with one leg lifted for the next step.