When Porrex had gone, Jorian asked Laziendo, "We seek the road to Trimandilam, and you should be able to advise us of the best way thither."
Laziendo stroked his mustache and smiled. "Why, this is a stroke of good fortune! I sail tomorrow on the Talaris, a gaggle of slave girls for Rennum Kezymar and marble, copper, wool, and miscellaneous cargo for Janareth. The deck will be a thought crowded until we discharge the lassies at Rennum Kezymar, but I'm sure we can find room for you. From Janareth you can ascend the Bharma by river boat to the capital."
Jorian asked about fares and said: "What is this Rennum Kezymar, and why are you taking slave girls thither?"
"The name means 'Ax Castle' in the dialect of Janareth. It is a small island off the mouth of the Jhukna, ruled by Mulvan. A couple of centuries ago, the then King of Kings chose it as a home for retired executioners."
"What!"
"Aye, and with good reason. Be an executioner never so gentle and pleasant and virtuous in his private capacity, people still care not to befriend him. Hence the Great King found he had many headsmen, too old to swing the ax or knot the rope or turn the windlass of the rack, living in misery despite their pensions, because no man would treat with them. Betimes the locals would not even sell them food, so that they starved to death.
"Rennum Kezymar was then but a barren islet, good only for a winter pasture for the flocks of a few shepherds. It bore the ruins of an ancient castle, built many centuries back, in the time of the Three Kingdoms. The king had the castle rebuilt and gathered his executioners there, and there they have dwelt ever since."
"If they are old and retired, what need have they for young slave girls?" said Jorian. "As well go tilting with a lance of asparagus."
Laziendo shrugged. "To fetch and carry, peradventure. Some have wives, but of their own age. In any case, my duty is but to play sheep dog to these girls and deliver them to the destination averred in the manifest."
"What of the land route from Vindium to Trimandilam?"
Laziendo held up his hands. "Fair sirs! Although the map shows a road from here to Janareth along the coast, as a practical matter it's plain impossible."
"How so?"
"Because an easterly spur of the Lograms follows the coast for nigh a hundred leagues. The road is a mere track, winding up and down precipices, crossing swift mountain torrents like the Jhukna by swaying bridges of rope, and here and there ceasing entirely where a landslide has destroyed it. Besides which, the coastal country swarms with brigands and tigers. Nay, rather try to steal the emerald gold of Tarxia than essay this route!"
"Is not that coast under the rule of the mighty King of Kings, who maintains such fine roads and swift postal service?"
"Aye, but all these amenities you'll find in the interior, within a few score leagues of Trimandilam. The emperor neglects the borderlands—I think designedly, lest some invader take advantage of such improvements. In any case, better that you should go on my ship. This voyage is late in the season, but its very lateness, while it augments the danger of storms, lessens that of piracy."
"I thank you for your warning," said Jorian. "We may visit your ship early on the morrow to book passage. Tell us how to find her."
Laziendo gave directions and added: "Excuse me, fair sirs; all this wine necessitates a visit to the jakes. I shall return."
Jorian and Karadur sat over their flagons so long that sounds outside and the actions of Cheuro's other guests implied that the parade would soon begin. At last Jorian said:
"Is that fellow playing a jape on us? Wait here."
He went through the kitchen door, to be confronted by a fat cook.
"Aye," said the cook, "I saw such a man as you describe, a half-hour past. He went straight through and out the back, without stopping at the jakes. Why, is aught amiss?"
"No, nothing's wrong," said Jorian. He returned to their table, muttering: "The vermin has bilked us; slithered out and left us to pay the scot. Well, thank Zevatas we have the means."
"Speaking of which," said Karadur, "our host has in his eye the look of a man about to tender his bill."
Jorian pulled out his purse, which held a few of the Mulvanian crowns, the rest being stowed in his money belt. He shook out one and almost dropped it.
"By all the gods!" he whispered, eyes wide. "Look at this, O Karadur! Keep your voice down."
Jorian held out the object, which was no Mulvanian golden crown but a square of lead of the same approximate size. Hoping against hope, he dug into the purse and brought out several more coins—all of which turned out to be leaden slugs.
Karadur stared in horror, then frantically clawed at his own purse. His gold had likewise turned to leaden squares. His mouth sagged open.
"That's the bastard you wanted us to trust!" hissed Jorian furiously. "Goania warned us he was tricky; and now, by Imbal's brazen balls, you know what she meant! I could have lived comfortably on that pelf for years!"
Tears rolled down Karadur's wrinkled brown cheeks. "True. It is all my fault, my son. I knew of that deception spell, too. I am a useless old dodderer. Never will I trust a strange man again, however fair and upright he seem."
"Well, how in the forty-nine Mulvanian hells shall we get out of here? If we try to walk out, there will be a fracas, and the watch will pitch us into the Vindine jail, where the Xylarians will presently discover me and request extradition. And 'twere easier to make pies out of stones than to wheedle credit from this Cheuro."
"Go along, my son, and leave me to take the blame."
"Don't talk nonsense. I cannot assail the Mulvanian Empire single-handed, so we must fight our way out together. Oh-oh, here comes Cheuro now." Jorian hastily swept up the slugs.
Cheuro leant his fists upon the table. "Have you gentlemen enjoyed your repast and entertainment?"
"We surely have, sir taverner," replied Jorian with a jovial grin. "I'm only sorry that our companions had to leave early. How much do we owe you?"
'Two marks and six. May I serve you a round on the house?"
"Delighted! Let me see, we should finish the evening with something special. Have you any of that liqueur they brew in Paalua, called olikau? Betimes we get it on the western coast."
Cheuro frowned. "I know the drink to which you refer, but I know not whether I have a bottle."
"Well, do us the kindness to make sure, whilst we reckon who owes what to whom."
When Cheuro had gone back to his bar, Jorian whispered; "What magic have you for us now? I've gained us a little time. How about an invisibility spell?"
"That calls for lengthy preparations, with far more apparatus than we have to hand. Furthermore, it does but make one's flesh and bone transparent, not one's raiment. Hence one must either go about nude— which the coolth of the present weather renders impractical—or present the arresting sight of a suit of garments walking about with no one inside it. Moreover, to see in this condition, one must exempt one's eyeballs from the spell. But let me think. Ah, I have it!"
Moving quickly, the old magician produced a wallet divided inside into many compartments. From several of these pockets he withdrew pinches of powder, which he sprinkled into his empty flagon. He stirred the powders with his finger and placed the mug on the floor between his feet.
"Be ready to cry 'Fire!'" he said.
"Hasten!" said Jorian. "Cheuro is coming back, and without his Paaluan liqueur."
Karadur mumbled as he raced through a spell, while the fingers of his two hands fluttered through figures on the table top, like the legs of a pair of agitated brown spiders. When Cheuro was halfway from the bar to their table, there was a hiss from the flagon. A tremendous cloud of thick, black smoke billowed up out of it, surging up against the underside of the table, spreading out in all directions, and hiding the table and the two travelers in its ever-widening billows.