"I stated that Gorax nears his limit," said Karadur. "He avers that, if not soon permitted to alight, he will collapse and drop us from whatever height we be."
'Tell him to slow down," said Jorian. "I know this country well, but I cannot see my hand before my face, let alone landmarks. Tis blacker than the inside of a cow. By my reckoning, we should reach Othomac City in two or three hours."
"At least," said Karadur, "we shall not frighten the yokels below to death. As we cannot see them, neither can they perceive us."
Jorian laughed. "Remember that wagoner in Xylar, who leaped from his wain, ran across a field, and burrowed into a haystack to hide?"
"Aye. But your efficient secret service will hear thereof and know we departed to eastward."
"True. But methinks we shall be safe in Othomae. The Othomaeans are ever on bad terms with Xylar. Tis one of those silly things where a river changes course, leaving behind a sandbar that belonged to one nation, and now is claimed by another. The dispute had just arisen during my last days as king, so I had no chance to compose it. At any rate, I misdoubt the Othomaeans would extradite us."
"I hope you be right. A lavish bribe oft overrides such parochial passions."
"Then we must needs trust the Xylarian treasurer's parsimony. In my time the post was held by Prithio son of Pellitus, as tight with his golden lions as a Mulvanian tiger with its prey." Jorian peered into the murk, trying to discern some solid object. "Tell Gorax to fly low but slowly, so as not to collide with some tree or steeple. When the moon rises, belike we can find a road or a river to guide us."
Hours later, the rain had slackened to a drizzle. The moon, in its last quarter, gave a faint pearly glow to the clouds overhead. Time ground on.
Peering over the side, Jorian saw plowed fields and now and then a village, a cluster of black rectangles in the darkness. He failed to identify any landmark. Karadur said:
"Gorax avers he be fordone. He warns us to brace ourselves, for he must descend whether we will or no."
There was a feeling of lightness as the tub dropped. The darkness deepened as trees arose about them. With a slight jar, the tub settled on soft ground.
"He bids us farewell," said Karadur. "Know you where we be?"
"Somewhere in Othomae," said Jorian, "unless Gorax have flown us clear across the duchy into Vindium."
Jorian stood up, grunting at the stiffness of his limbs. The rain had ceased, but all around he heard the drip of water from branches. He hoisted himself out of the tub. The ground seemed a green sward in a small clearing or glade, surrounded by huge trees. Jorian walked around the edges of the glade. Returning, he said:
"I still know not where we are. At least, let us wring the water from our clothes."
Standing in the tub, Jorian removed his garments and wrung them, holding them over the grass. He sneezed. "I hope," he grumbled, "they dry ere we freeze to death… What's that?"
Something moved about the glade. Its footfalls were practically noiseless; but Jorian could see a darker shadow in the darkness and hear a faint hiss of breathing. Then something sniffed, close to the tub. Two spots of feeble luminosity, barely visible, appeared above the edge of the tub. Jorian recognized an odor.
He was sitting on the coil of rope at the faucet end of the tub. Suddenly he leaped up, waving his arms and uttering an earsplitting scream: "Ye-ee-owf"
There was a spitting snarl and sounds of a body moving swiftly away. "A leopard, I think," said Jorian. "Are you all right, Father Karadur?"
The old wizard was gasping for breath. "Your screech well-nigh arrested my old heart for all eternity."
"Sorry, but I had to surprise the cat to get rid of it. The sky is lightening." Jorian felt his clothes; Karadur's were draped along the opposite side of the tub. "They're not yet dry, but we'd best do them on. The warmth of our bodies will dry them. How about a fire?"
"An excellent idea if feasible. With this all-pervading wet, I have doubts."
Jorian took out his lighter. "Plague! My tinder's wet, and I see not how to get dry tinder. Would your magical fire spell work, think you?"
"If you will fetch fuel, I will essay it."
Soon Jorian had collected fallen branches and twigs. Standing in the tub, Karadur waved his wand, made mystic passes, and uttered words of power. A little blue flame appeared among Jorian's pile of fuel. The flame danced among the branches, now and then evoking a faint hiss; but the fuel would not ignite.
"Alas!" said Karadur. "We can do nought until our wood dries."
Jorian grunted. "I always thought magic was something one resorted to when material means failed; but wizardries seem to fail quite as often."
Karadur sighed. "My son, I fear you have penetrated the secret of secrets, the inmost arcanum."
"Meaning that all you spookers' professions of infinite powers are but a bluff" to cozen us laymen?"
"True, alas. We fail as often as do the engineers in the House of Learning in Iraz. But I beseech you, reveal not this dread secret to the vulgus. We wizards have a hard enough time making a living."
Jorian grinned in the darkness. "Since you saved my life, old man, I'll keep your secret." He looked around. The light had grown strong enough to pick out twigs and leaves on trees, although the deciduous trees had lost most of their summer foliage. "By Astis's ivory breasts, what are those?"
To three of the trees surrounding the glade, wooden ladders had been affixed, reaching up until lost in the foliage. Jorian said: "I never heard of trees that grew ladders naturally. They must be the work of men."
"One can imagine erecting such ladders on fruit trees, to facilitate harvesting," said Karadur. "But these are nought but oaks, beeches, and lindens."
"There are beechnuts," said Jorian. "But two of the ladders I see go up oaks. Who would gather unripe acorns?"
"A breeder of swine, belike. But I am not convinced, when it were so much easier to pick them from the ground. Perchance the ladders lead to sentry posts, whence sentinels look out over the land to espy invaders."
"I never heard of aught like that when I served in the Grand Bastard's army," said Jorian. "But what other—oh-oh, Karadur, look behind you!"
The wizard turned and started in alarm. "A unicorn!" he breathed.
The head and forequarters of the animal appeared from out the shrubbery on one side of the glade. The unicorn of Jorian's world was no graceful pseudo-horse. Instead, it was a large member of the rhinoceros tribe, covered with golden-brown hair, with its single horn sprouting from its forehead, above the eyes, instead of its nose.
"If we keep still," whispered Jorian, "maybe he'll go away."
"I fear not," Karadur whispered back. "I detect emanations of rising rage. Methinks we had best prepare to make a dash for one of those ladders."
The unicorn gave an explosive snort, pawed the ground with a triple-hooved foot, and stepped forward.
Jorian murmured: "Soonest begun, soonest done, as said the wise Achaemo. Ready, set, go!"
He vaulted out of the tub and ran for a ladder across the glade from the beast. Karadur followed but, because of his age, fell behind. Jorian waited for him at the foot of the tree, calling: "Faster! Here it comes!"
When the wizard, panting and staggering, reached the tree, Jorian put his large hands around Karadur's waist and boosted the slight oldster several steps up the ladder.
The unicorn made a thunderous charge, snorting like a volcano. It rushed the tub, jerking its head as its horn struck. With a loud bongg, the tub flew into the air, scattering the belongings of the two travelers.