The Unbeheaded King

by L. Sprague DeCamp

  Karadur appeared. "Why Jorian, you look fatigued! Was the work at the mill exacting?"

  "Nay; 'twas as light as tossing a feather from hand to hand. How fared you?"

  "Goania summoned Nennio, the chief of the seers' guild. She persuaded him to agree that I pay my initiation fee in installments over a year. Further he would not abate his demands. She told me privily that the fifty nobles are mainly a bribe to the officers of the guild. No more than a tenth of the sum reaches the guild's coffers, the rest disappearing into the purses of Master Nennio and his henchmen."

  "Why does not some disgruntled guild member bring an action against these larceners?"

  Karadur glanced about and lowered his voice. "Because, she whispered, they turn over a portion to the Grand Duke, who therefore protects them in their peculations. But say it not aloud in Lord Gwitlac's demesne, an you value your health."

  Jorian sighed. "No wonder the romancers write tales of imaginary commonwealths, where all are honest, industrious, sober, and chaste, since such a thing seems not to exist in the real world. Is the afterworld any more virtuous?"

  Karadur shrugged. "We shall doubtless ascertain soon enough; or sooner yet, if you permit that restless tongue to betray us."

  "I guard my utterances. If such a land of universal virtue existed, I fear 'twere somewhat dull to dwell in."

  "We need not fear, Jorian, that such a reign of tedium will ever afflict us. Betimes some simple dullness were welcome!"

  Chapter Four

  THE DEMON RUAKH

  JORIAN BECAME HARDENED TO MILL WORK, SINCE HE WAS A powerful man, albeit somewhat softened by his life in Iraz. To one who had repaired clocks for a living, the mechanism was simple. Whenever the machine stopped, Jorian located the trouble before Lodegar did. One of the wooden gear teeth on the main shaft had come loose and jammed the gear, and Jorian quickly repaired it.

  The month of the Eagle was well along when Abacarus sent word that he was ready to call up a demon from the Fifth Plane. The next evening, trudging through a light dusting of snow, Jorian and Karadur gathered in Abacarus's oratory. This was a small, circular room in one of the ornamental towers of the Philosophy Building of the Academy. They found the sorcerer marking a pentacle with chalk on the center of the floor, all the furniture having been moved aside. Holding the other end of the measuring string was Abacarus's apprentice, a weasel-like young man named Octamon.

  "Keep back!" said Abacarus. "If you step on a line, you will break the pentacle' and release the demon ere he have accepted my commands. That might be the end of all of us."

  They crowded back against the wall while the diagram was completed. The sorcerers inscribed a pentagram, or five-pointed star in the pentacle, a small circle inside the pentagram, and many symbols in the angles of these figures.

  Octamon lit five thick black candles and placed them at the points of the star, where they burned with a weird green flame. Then he extinguished the suspended lamp that had illuminated the chamber. He lit a thuribulum and stood against the wall swinging the vessel on its chain. Pungent odors arose, which called to Jorian's mind, simultaneously, a flowery spring meadow, the fish market at Vindium, and the tannery at Xylar. Glancing furtively at his companions' faces, Jorian saw that all were tinged green from the candle flames.

  Abacarus began moving his hands while intoning, in a deep voice unlike his normal high, thin tenor, words unknown to Jorian: "Thomatos benesser ftianter, litan izer osnas nanther, soutram i ubarsinens rabiam! Siras etar besanar, nodes suradis a…" He went on and on until Jorian uneasily shifted his weight.

  The flames of the candles wavered, shrank to points, and changed to an angry red. "… maniner o sader prostas. …" droned Abacarus.

  In the near-darkness, Jorian felt movement of the air. Something was flickering into view in the center of the pentacle; something anthropomorphic but bulkier than a human being. A heavy, musky odor pervaded the room. Abacarus finished his conjuration: "… mammes i enaim perantes ra sonastosl What is your name?"

  The answer came in a voice like bubbling swamp gas: "If it be any of your business, I am called Ruakh. What is this outrage—"

  "Hold your tongue!" said Abacarus. "I have called you from the Fifth Plane to perform a service. Until you swear by the oath that binds you to perform this task featly, and to harm no inhabitant of this plane whilst sojourning therein, and then to return forthwith to your own plane, you shall remain prisoner in this pentacle."

  The dim form moved as if it were trying to break through an invisible barrier surrounding it. The barrier seemed to be elastic, so that when the being threw itself against the invisible wall, it rebounded. At last it ceased its struggles, saying:

  "This is most unjust of you! On my plane we have long abolished slavery, yet you savages still keep up this barbarous custom. Some day we demons shall find a way—"

  "Never mind all that," growled Abacarus. "Will you do as you are told, or must I leave you here to await the coming of day?"

  "You beast!" said the demon. "You know we Fifth Planers be allergic to the sun of your plane. If ever I get you on my plane—"

  "Vaisus damn it, will you stop arguing! I have never faced so contentious a demon! It will avail you nought, so you might as well get down to business."

  "I have a right to remind you of what is right and wrong, since you seem to have no conscience—"

  "Shut up!" screamed Abacarus.

  "—and no manners, either," continued Ruakh. "Ah, well, as you Prime Planers would say, you have me by the balls, or would, if I had those repulsive organs of reproduction you creatures hide beneath your clothing. What is this service?"

  "First you must swear the oath!"

  "I will swear nought until I know what service you have in mind, lest you send me to find frog feathers or dry water."

  Abacarus said: "The large young man with the black beard has a wife imprisoned in the dungeon of the royal palace of Xylar. He wishes you to fetch her out of her cell and bring her here."

  "How far is Xylar?"

  "Eighty leagues, more or less, east of here."

  "How shall I accomplish this task? I can materialize in the lady's cell, but I cannot dematerialize her to carry her through stone walls or an iron-barred door."

  "If the door be locked, you must get the key from the head jailer, or whoever has it. If you can find who has it, you can easily frighten him into giving it up. Then you can fly back hither with the lady. The time is not yet midnight, so you should arrive here well before dawn. You must not fly at such a height that lack of air will suffocate her; and you should wrap her warmly, for the winter air aloft will be far below the freezing point."

  Ruakh grunted. "I like not the prospect; but as we say on the Fifth Plane, mendicants cannot be optants. Can the young man draw me a plan of the dungeon, lest I go astray in the bowels of this building?"

  "Nay, oath first! You hope he will break the circle and loose you to wreak your vengeance upon us."

  "I had no such thought in mind!" cried the demon in its bubbly, thickly accented voice. "You Prime Planers are the most suspicious lot in the multiple worlds. You assume all others to be as evil and treacherous as you."

  "Forget the rhetoric, my good Ruakh, and let us get to the oath."

  "Oh, very well," grumbled the demon.

  There followed a long dialogue between the two, in a language unknown to Jorian. At last Abacarus said: "That is done, then. Octamon, you may light the lamp and break the circle. You realize, Ruakh, what will befall you if you violate the terms of our compact, do you not?"

  "Aye, I realize; albeit it is a monstrous injustice. Forcing me to do risky, unpaid labor, forsooth! When I get home, I shall have somewhat to say to my fellow demons."

  As the lamp flared up, Jorian had his first clear view of Ruakh. The demon was a being of human size and shape, but from its back grew a huge pair of batlike wings, now folded. Its clawed feet resembled those of a huge bird of prey. The whole creature was covered with what at firs
t Jorian took to be a skintight suit of scarlet silk. As the demon moved, he saw that this was Ruakh's own skin. As the being had said, it was innocent of visible sexual organs; the skin of its crotch was smooth.

  "Pardon me, Master Ruakh," said Jorian, "but how do your kind reproduce themselves?"

  "It is a long story," began the demon. "At the proper season, we grow—"

  Abacarus interrupted. "Do not take time for such discussion, Master Jorian. Ruakh must get to Xylar and back ere dawn. So here is a piece of chalk; pray indicate where he shall find your lady."

  Jorian squatted and drew a diagram of the dungeon of Xylar. He was a little startled when Ruakh, leaning over his shoulder to look at the drawing, placed a clawed hand on Jorian's back to steady itself. Jorian pointed to the largest rectangle in the diagram.

  "I think she's in there," he said. "They seem to have fixed the place up for her comfort, not like an ordinary prison cell. She is small and light-haired."

  The demon, peering, said: "Methinks I grasp the nub. Stand back, all, so that I can dematerialize."

  When the men had crowded back to the wall, the demon began to spin round and round. Faster and faster it went, until it became a blur. The blur became translucent, then transparent, and then vanished with a whoosh of air.

  "Open the doors, Octamon," said Abacarus, "to rid us of this stench."

  Cold winter air spilled into the oratory. "Now what?" asked Jorian.

  "It will be hours ere Ruakh can return," said Abacarus. "It can hie to Xylar in its immaterial form in the blink of an eye; it should arrive there any minute. But to return, it must remain material. So its flight will consume hours, swift of wing though it be. If you people wish to await its return here, there are couches below."

  Jorian and Karadur remained in the Philosophy Building. As Abacams was showing them to the lounge where they would pass the rest of the night, Jorian asked:

  "Pray tell me something, Doctor Abacarus. In Iraz, a savant of the House of Learning explained that a flying being the size of a man were impossible. Something about the relation of its weight to the area of its wings and the power of its thews. How, then, can Ruakh fly in his material form on this plane?"

  Abacarus shrugged. "It has compensating advantages. Its muscles are not made of the same stuff as ours. They are stronger in proportion to their bulk."

  "What's this," said Jorian, "about the demons complaining of being enslaved by us Prime Planers? I thought the Novarian nations had agreed to end slavery."

  Abacarus chuckled. "The Treaty of Metouro, which will not become effective until all twelve governments sign it, refers only to the enslavement of human beings. Demons, from whatever other plane, are not human and hence do not qualify, any more than would your horse."

  "How about the ape-men of Komilakh? Will they count as human beings?"

  "That depends on which of the twelve nations you are in. The courts of some have held them human; of others, not. The Novarian nations should establish a supreme court over all twelve systems to reconcile these discrepancies. I belong to a society devoted to this ideal; I must give you one of our broadsheets. But to return to the Treaty of Metouro, only five of the nations have signed it, and do not try to hold your breath whilst awaiting the signatures of the rest."

  "What about the demons' threat to organize against exploitation by Prime Planers?"

  "Never fear. They will make a start and then fall into internal bickering as they always have. Now I am going home. I shall return an hour before dawn. By then, if all go well, our demon should be well on its way hither. Good night!"

  It seemed to Jorian that he had barely fallen asleep on his couch, when he felt his shoulder shaken. "It is time," said Abacarus.

  Jorian stood yawning in the oratory for half an hour. Then, just as the east began to lighten, something moved against the star-strewn western sky. Abacarus threw open the doors that unfolded on the small balcony encircling the tower, letting in a wave of frigid air. The flying object took shape, growing from the likeness of a bat to the demon Ruakh with a bulky burden in its arms.

  With a muffled thunder of wings, the demon settled upon the railing of the balcony, grasping it with clawed feet as a bird does a branch. Then, wings folded, it hopped down to the balcony and walked into the oratory, bearing a blanket-wrapped body. Octamon shut the door.

  "Here you are!" growled the demon. The musky smell returned.

  "Had you trouble getting in?" asked Jorian.

  "Nay. I materialized outside the dungeon, thinking to get the keys. But I found the barred door at the head of the stair open, and a guard sitting beside it. I frightened him away, descended the stair, and found the cell whereof you told me, also unlocked. So I discovered this woman therein. When I approached her to explain my mission, she fainted. I wrapped her as you see and bore her out. The palace folk scattered shrieking before me, so I had no difficulty in leaving the building and taking to the air."

  "Well done!" said Abacarus. "You are dismissed, Master Ruakh."

  Ruakh gave a bubbling growl. "Ere I return to my own plane, let me tell you Prime Planers, we demons will not forever submit to being kidnapped and forced to run your errands for you! We shall unite to end this injustice! We shall overcome!"

  "For now, be satisfied with your dismissal," said Abacarus. "Begone; we do not find your odor pleasing."

  Standing in the center of the floor, Ruakh went into its spin. The towering scarlet form whirled, blurred, and vanished with a rush of displaced air.

  Jorian drew a long breath. "I confess that Ruakh's proximity gave me some uneasy moments."

  "It is all in knowing how to handle them," said Abacarus. "My last apprentice got himself slain by a demon whom he improperly evoked."

  "Jorian is forever deprecating himself," said Karadur. "I have sought to break him of the habit, since modesty is a poor weapon for making one's way in this sinful world; but I fear I have not utterly succeeded."

  Jorian was kneeling by the blanket-wrapped form on the floor. As he began unwrapping it, he was struck by the horrible thought that his Estrildis might have perished from mountain sickness at the altitude to which Ruakh had borne her.

  Then the form began to wriggle, and it threw off the blanket and sat up.

  "By Imbal's brazen balls!" cried Jorian. "You're not Estrildis!"

  "Whoever said I was?" said the woman, rising. "I am Queen Estrildis's lady-in-waiting, Lady Margalit of Totens. And you, and I mistake not, are the fugitive King Jorian. Where am I, and why have I been brought on this horrible journey?"

  The woman was of about the same age as Estrildis; but there the resemblance ended. Where Estrildis was short and blond, Margalit of Totens was almost as tall as Jorian and dark, with a mop of curly hair tumbling over her forehead. Jorian would not quite have called her beautiful, as he would have said of some of the five wives he had enjoyed as king. But she was handsome in a bold, sharp-featured way, and strongly built. She was fast recovering from the shock of her experience.

  Jorian bowed. "I am honored, Lady Margalit. You are in Othomae City, and it was not intended that you be brought hither. I sent Ruakh —that's the demon—to fetch my wife, but he seems to have caught you by mistake. How did it happen?"

  "My Queen had gone up to the battlements to walk and look at the heavens, leaving me in our dungeon apartment."

  "They don't keep her locked in that cell, then?"

  "Nay, though they make sure she leaves not the palace. She may issue from the cell when she pleases, but they send an armed escort with her, lest you have another try at abducting her."

  "Was it you who gave the alarm, when I fell over that chair and roused the watchdog?"

  "Aye. How was I to know it was you?"

  "Why told you not the demon who you were?"

  "How could I? I was tidying up the apartment in Estrildis's absence —as you doubtless know, neatness was never her strong point—and the first thing I knew, there was the demon in the doorway, crouching to get his wings t
hrough, and mumbling something in that gargly voice with its unintelligible accent. Twas then that I fainted for the only time in my life. The next I knew, I was borne aloft, wrapped in this blanket, notwithstanding which I well-nigh froze to death. When I struggled, the demon warned me to lie still, lest he drop me from a height. What an experience!"

  Jorian turned to Abacarus. "How could Ruakh have made such a stupid mistake? I told him to look for a small, blond woman."

  The sorcerer spread his hands. "By and large, demons are not very intelligent. Belike it forgot your instructions, or got them confused, and when it saw one woman alone in the chamber reasoned that this must be she whom it sought."

  "Can you call Ruakh back to rectify his error?" asked Jorian.

  "Nay. A demon once dismissed is exempt for years thereafter."

  "Why did you dismiss him so hastily?"

  "Because it stank, and you did not object."

  "I had no time to object; but let's not start apportioning blame. Could you invoke another demon in Ruakh's place?"

  Abacarus frowled. "Not for months. Imprimus, these evocations are exhausting, and I must be able to meet my classes. I also find the odor of Fifth Plane demons unbearable. Secundus, it would cost you an additional fifteen hundred nobles. And tertius, you have not yet paid all you owe me for evoking Ruakh."

  "What!" cried Jorian. "I owe you not a copper penny! We agreed that your demon should fetch my wife, Estrildis the Kortolian; and that he has not done."

  "Young man, you had better watch your tongue. I say you owe me seven hundred and fifty. My expenses have been just as heavy as if the demon had succeeded, and I warned you that I did not guarantee success."

  "But you did agree to my paying the rest when and only when you succeeded. I'll not pay for a bungled job!"

  "You were as responsible for the bungle as anyone, and you had better pay. I can take you to law; and I also have other means of causing you trouble."