" 'Well!' said Fusonio, 'if this priest overcome us, I see we can look forward to a jolly time under his rule. What is this about the bath house? We Kortolians have always bathed together.'
" 'Oh,' said Forimar, 'Doubri is an utter fanatic on nudity. To him it is actually worse than fornication. Why, in Aussar, everybody is supposed to bathe in his shirt, even in privacy. Married couples are commanded to wear long gowns to bed, these being furnished with slits in the appropriate places for those who wish to beget children for the glory of the gods.'
"Fusonio thought a while, then said: 'Let me see those statues of Astis, for which you so rashly squandered our treasury.' And the king took his brother to the temple of Astis, where Fusonio spent some time, now and then passing an appreciative hand over a particularly well-rounded curve of one of the statues.
" 'All right,' said Fusonio at last. 'I think I know what to do. But lest I merely rescue you from one such predicament, dear brother, only to have you plunge us all into another, I must ask that you abdicate in my favor. Otherwise, I will return to my ships and sail away, for an excellent post as minister for western affairs awaits me in Salimor if I choose to return thither.'
"Forimar pleaded and wept to no avail. He cursed and threatened and stamped and pulled his own hair in rage and frustration. But Fusonio would not bulge a fingerbreadth. When Forimar commanded his bodyguards to seize his brother, they suddenly became deaf, saying: 'What is that, sire? I cannot understand you.' So at last Forimar signed the document of abdication, threw the royal seal at his brother, and stamped off to compose a piece of music that is still known as the Angry Sonata.
"King Fusonio then commanded that all the statues of Astis be covered with wrappings and set up on the wall. And when the assault began, the wrappings were pulled off, and there stood those hundreds of statues of the naked Astis.
"Doubri was watching from beyond bowshot. Being near-sighted, he asked his men what was toward. And when he learnt, he was filled with horror. For, plainly, his soldiers could not scale the walls without coming face to face with all these lewd statues. Arrows could indeed be shot at them, but these would merely chip and mar them slightly, and meanwhile the minds of the archers would be filled with unholy sensual thoughts. Since the catapult did not yet exist, he could not smash the statues with stone balls from a distance, as he could today.
"Doubri remained encamped for a few more days. He made a halfhearted attack on the wall, wheeling up a ram tortoise to batter it. But, not needing to take cover from arrow-shot, the defenders easily caught the head of the ram in the bight of a chain and upset the whole engine. Doubri also tried tunnelling, but the defenders flooded the tunnels.
"Doubri knew he could not starve out the defenders, because the Kortolian navy, reinforced by Fusonio's squadron, still commanded the local waters. When a sickness broke out among the Aussarians, Doubri raised the siege and marched away, only to find on his return to Aussar City that his government had fallen, and that one of the more promising younger members of the despot's family had been made ruler in his place.
"And that is the tale of Forimar the Esthete and Doubri the Faultless. The moral, as we see it in Kortoli, is that both Forimar's artistry and Doubri's morality would have been good things in their way, had they been applied in moderation. But any virtue can be turned into a vice by indulging it with excessive rigor and consistency."
Jorian and his audience now stood in the portico of the temple, outside the great bronze doors. Bit by bit, as he unfolded his tale, he had edged away from the central square, along the nave, and out the main doors. As he did so, he kept an ear cocked towards the holy of holies. At any moment, he expected Karadur and Valdonius to sidle quietly up and rejoin the group. The theocrat was saying:
"A most edifying and amusing tale, Doctor Maltho. Even in our holy cultus, we must sometimes curb the excessive zeal of some of our colleagues. We know that we alone possess the ultimate truth, and that it is incumbent upon us to propagate this verity and to extirpate error; but in this extirpation, excessive violence sometimes defeats its own—"
GLOOP! An extraordinary sound issued from the temple: a sound like a frog's croak, but augmented to the loudness of a lion's roar or a buffalo's bellow.
"Good Gorgolor, what is that?" cried one of the episcopals, turning to look back through the doors. Then the crimson-clad priest staggered back with a shriek, clapping a hand to his forehead. "The Holy Rrog save us! The statue has come to life!"
GLOOP! came the bellow, closer, and a squashy, thumping sound accompanied it. Then out through the bronzen doors leaped the emerald god, the same size as he had been on his pedestal but now informed with life. Gorgolor landed among the group outside the doorway. Jorian leaped aside, but several others, including the theocrat, were bowled over. With a final GLOOP, the gigantic frog took off on another soaring leap into the darkness.
Jorian hastily gave Kylo a hand up and picked up the theocrat's battered white felt crown. But Kylo paid no heed, either to Jorian or to his sacerdotal headpiece.
"Send men in pursuit!" he screamed, dancing on the marble. "The god headed for the Swamp of Spraa, and if he gets there we shall never catch him. Turn out the army! Fetch nets! Hurry! Hurry! Are you all turned to stone? You, Eades, send out the pursuit! The rest of you follow me!"
The little fat man set off at a run down the path through the temenos that led eastward, his white robe fluttering. As they ran, others rushed out of the dark to ask the cause of the commotion. When they heard, they joined the pursuit with cries of horror and lamentation. Within a few breaths, a motley throng, many in nightdress, was streaming away eastward along one of Tarxia's winding streets.
Jorian, Karadur, and Valdonius remained alone in the portico. Karadur was weeping again. Beyond the temenos they could glimpse the movement of torches and lanthorns, as the word of the transformation of their god spread swiftly through Tarxia City and hundreds dropped whatever they were doing to run towards the East Gate.
"Well," said Jorian, eyeing his companions, "I suppose your damned spells went agley again?"
"One might say so; one might say so," replied Valdonius, ostentatiously preserving his poise. "Peradventure we mistranslated a word in that old scroll, which is writ in a very archaic form of the language. Natheless, the results will be nearly as satisfactory."
"In any case," said Jorian, "methinks Karadur and I had best flee whilst the Tarxians are preoccupied with catching their god. Where's your ass, Karadur?"
"I abandoned it in the camp of the Gendings, to give myself more time before the barbarians suspected I had left them. I came to Tarxia by a ship from Istheun."
"Do you own a beast of burden, Doctor Valdonius?"
"Why," said Valdonius, "I have a matched pair of whites to draw my chariot. But I cannot break the pair—"
"Oh, yes you can! Either you turn one of those animals over to Karadur to ride, or the theocrat shall hear of your part in this even's events."
"You would not inform on your confederates, would you?"
'Try me and see. I'll talk Kylo into thinking the blame is all yours. Now that I think of it, I'll also tell them you've been practicing sorcery, which is true; I know enough of magic to know that swords do not stick in their scabbards on a word of command, without the aid of a spirit."
"My masters," said Karadur, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, "why does not Doctor Valdonius drive his chariot to Metouro, to attend the Conclave with us? Then he could carry me in his car. The Altruists will need every vote."