De Camp, L Sprague - The Clocks of Iraz

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Author's Note

While the reader may, naturally, pronounce the names in this tale as he

pleases, for Penembic names I had the following scheme in mind: ue and oe as

in German; ui (obscured) as in "biscuit"; other vowels more or less as in

Spanish and consonants as in English. Hence Ayuir rhymes with "fire";

Chaluish, with "demolish"; Chui-vir, with "severe." The h in Sahmet, Fahramak

is sounded: "sah-h'm-met," etc. The scheme is based upon the phonetics of

Turkish.

THE CHRLET MflMMOTH

T WAS THE HOUR OF THE COAT, ON THE THIRTEENTH OF

the Month of the Unicorn, in the republic of Ir, one of the twelve city-states

of Novaria.

In the tavern called the Scarlet Mammoth, in the city of Orynx, a slim, well-

dressed young man toyed absently with a glass of wine and watched the door.

Although this man wore Novanan garb, there was about him a suggestion of the

exotic. His skin was darker than that of most Novarians, although the latter

were a mainly brunet folk. Furthermore, his ornaments were gaudier than those

of the Land of the Twelve Cities.

Across the common room sat an older man: a chunky fellow of medium height,

with a plain, nondescript face, clad in garments of sober black. If the first

man looked foppish, the second looked ostentatiously austere.

While the tall youth watched the door, the chunky man, now and then sipping

from a leathern drinking jack of ale, watched the tall youth. Sweat beaded the

foreheads of both men, for the weather was unseasonably hot.

The door flew open. In stamped six noisy, rough-looking men, covered with

sweat and dust and cursing the heat. They seized the largest table in the

common room and hammered on it. The tallest man, a burly, ruddy fellow with

deep-set dark eyes under heavy black brows and a close-cut black beard,

shouted:

"Ho, Theudus! Can't a gang of honest workmen get a drink, when their throats

are caked with dust thick enough to raise a crop in?"

THE CLOCKS OF IRAZ

"Coming, coming, Master Nikko, if you'll stop that hellish racket," grumbled

the taverner, appearing with his fists full of jacks of ale, a thick finger

hooked around each handle. As he set the vessels down, he asked: "Be this your

last day, working out of Orynx?"

"That's right," said the big man, across whose face a sword-cut had left a

scar and put a kink in his nose. "We move to Evrodium on the morrow. Our

orders are to make the aqueduct swing south, following the high ground, before

reaching Ir City."

"I should think you'd cut directly across to Ir," said Theudus, "to shorten

the total length."

"We would, but the Syndicate would have to pay for an arcade several leagues

long, and you know how they are with money; they give it out as a glacier

gives out heat. When the thing is built, they'll doubtless complain that the

grade is too low and the channel ciogs up. 1 warned 'em, but they wouldn't

listen. No matter what route we pick, we poor surveyors get blamed."

"They've been talking about this project for years," said the taverner.

"Aye. They should have built it years agone, but I suppose they hoped that

Zevatas would send enough rain to fill the old aqueducts. They did nought till

water got so scarce that they had to ration baths. You ought to smell the air

in that underground city! They could cut it up and sell it for fertilizer.

Well, what's tor dinner?"

As the men gave their orders, the slim young man approached the surveyors'

table. Standing behind the big man, he rapped the latter on the shoulder with

a peremptory forefinger. As the chief surveyor looked up, the younger man,

speaking Novarian with an accent, said:

"You, there! Are you not |onan of Ardamai?"

The big man's eyes narrowed, but his face remained blank and his voice level.

"Never heard of him. I'm Nikko of Kortoli, as my mates here will attest."

"But that is — well, come over to my table, where we can talk."

"Certes, my unknown friend," said the surveyor in

THE CLOCKS OF IRAZ

no friendly tone. Carrying his ale, he rose and followed the other back to his

table. He sat down beside the younger one, while his hand strayed to the knife

at his belt. "Now, sir, what can I do for you?"

The other gave a high-pitched giggle. "Come, good my sir. Everyone has heard

of Jorian of Ardamai, once king of Xylar, who fled his official decapitation

and has been hiding—ow!"

"Be quiet," murmured the big man, who had slid an arm around the younger man's

waist and then, with his other hand, had thrust his knife so that its point

gently pricked the skin of the other's belly.

"How — how dare you!" cried the slim young man. "You cannot order me around!

You durst not harm one of my rank!"

"Want to find out? An you'd not mess up Theudus' nice clean floor with your

guts, you shall do exactly as told."

"B-but, my dear Jorian, I know you! Doctor Karadur said that Nikko of Kortoli

was one of your false names, and that is how I tracked you hither—eh, stop

that!"

"Then shut up, idiot! What has Karadur to do with this? Keep your voice down!"

"He gave me a letter to you—"

"Who are you, anyway?"

"M-my name is Zerltk-son of Doerumik son of—"

"An uncouth name, if ever I heard one. Whence come you? Penembei?"

" Precisely, sir. The great "city of Iraz, in fact. Now—"

"And Karadur is in Iraz?"

"Aye, Master jor—ow\"

"The next time you speak that name aloud, I'll let you have it up to the hilt.

Let's see this letter."

Zerlik looked down his long, hooked, high-bridged nose. "Really, sir, a

gentleman like myself is not accustomed to such unmannerly—"

"The letter, your lordship, unless you want steel in your guts. Did Karadur

hire you as messenger?"

"Really, good my sir! Persons of my quality do not work for pay. It is our

duty to serve the court, and my

THE CLOCKS OF IRAZ

task is that of royal messenger. When His Majesty, knowing me fluent in

Novarian, commanded me to bear Karadur's missive..."

During this speech, the big man had pried the seal off the letter and unfolded

the sheet of reed paper. He frowned at the spidery writing on the crackly,

golden-brown surface, then called:

"O Theudus! A candle, if you please." When the candle had been brought, the

big man read the following epistle'

Karadur the Mulvaman to his stout comrade in the adventure of the Kist of

Avlen, greetings.

If you would recover your little Estrildis, and if you remember enough of your

early training in clockmaking to put in order the clocks on the Tower of

Kumashar, then come to Iraz with Master Zerlik. The task should not be

difficult, for I understand that these clocks were installed by your sire in

the first place. Farewell.

jorian of Ardamai murmured: "The old fellow has better sense than you, Zerlik

my boy. You'll notice he mentioned no names—"

He broke off as a movement on the other side of the room caught his eye. The

man in plain, dark clothing laid a coin on his table, rose, and walked quietly

out. Jorian caught a glimpse of his profile against the darkening sky, and

then the door closed on the man.

"Theudus!" Jorian called.

"Aye, Master Nikko?"

"Who was that who just left?"

The taverner shrugged. "I know not. He's been here all afternoon, sipping a

little ale and watching about him."

"Could you place him by his speech-"

"He said little; but what he said was, meseemcd, with a southern accent."

Jorian grunted. "With those clothes and a southern accent, he has 'Xylar'

written all over him, as surely as if he bore the crimson hourglass on his

tunic."

THE CLOCKS OF IRAZ

"Are you not jumping to conclusions on scant evidence'" said Zerlik.

"Mayhap, but in my position one becomes sensitive to such things. If it make

you happy, Master Zerlik, know that you're not the only stupid man in the

room. I should have noticed this wight as soon as I came in, but I was

thinking of other things."

"Mean you the Xylarians are still fain to cut your head off and throw it up

for grabs, by way of choosing the next king? A beastly custom, I always

thought."

"You'd find it even beastlier if it were your head. Well, I shall have to

accept Karadur's invitation in-stanter. But travel costs money, and I have but

little of the precious stuff."

"That is all right. Doctor Karadur entrusted me with a sum adequate for the

purpose."

"Good. How came you hither?"

"In my chariot," said Zerlik.

"You drove all the way from Iraz' 1 knew not that the coastal road was good

for wheeled traffic."

"It is not. My man and 1 had to dismount a hundred times, to manhandle the

thing over rocks and out of holes. But we made it."

"Where is this man of yours?"

"Ayuir is in the kitchen. You would not expect him to dine with his master,

would you?"

Jorian shrugged. After a pause, Zerlik said: "Well, sir, and what next?"

"I'm thinking. We have perhaps half an hour wherein to flee the Scarlet

Mammoth ere a squad of Royal Guardsmen from Xylar arrives with nets and

lariats. Are you staying here?"

"Aye. I have a private room. But surely you do not propose to leave tonight?"

"Yes I do, and forthwith."

"But my dinner!" cried Zerlik.

"Bugger your dinner; corpses have no appetite. If you hadn't blabbed my

name... Anyway, command your man to hitch up your chariot whilst we gather our

gear. What's your idea of whither we should go?"

"Why, back the way I came—through Xylar and along

THE CLOCKS OF 1RAZ

the coastal road, at the foot of the Lograms, and down the coast to Penembei

to Iraz."

(orian shook his head grimly. "You'll never see me in Xylar—not whilst they

seek to chop off my head."

"What, then- Shall we send eastward to Vindium and around the other end of the

Lograms?"

"Not practical. Twould take months, and the valley of the Jhukna is wild,

roadless land. Methinks we needs must go by sea."

"By sea!" Zerlik's voice rose to a squeak. "I hate the sea. Besides, what

would become of my beautiful chariot?"

"You and your man can take it back the way you came. I'll join you in Iraz as

soon as I can find passage."

"From what I hear, there is not much coastal shipping just now, with the

pirates of Algarth active off the coast. Besides, I was commanded to accompany

you, to render aid and assistance."

lorian thought that if any help were called for, it would be he who rendered

aid to this spoilt young fop rather than the other way round. But he merely

said:

"Then come with me, whilst your man takes the chariot. If we cannot find

passage on a coaster, we may have to sail our own ship, and that takes at

least two."

"Ayuir might steal my car and run off with it!"

"That, young sir, is your problem."

"Nor can I be expected to flit about the world without a single attendant,

like some wretched vagrant—"

"You'll learn, laddie. You'd be surprised what one can do when one puts one's

mind to it." Jorian rose. "In any event, we cannot sit here havering all

night. I go to pack and shall meet you back here in a quarter-hour. Tell your

man to be ready to drive us down the river road to Chemnis." He stepped back

to the large table and touched one of the surveyors on the arm. "Come up to

the dormitory a moment, Ikadion."

With a puzzled frown, the other followed forian up the creaking stairs. In the

dormitory, Jorian pulled his spare clothing, sword, and other possessions out

from under the bed. He donned the scabbard and jammed the

THE CLOCKS OF IRAZ

other gear into a stout canvas hag. As he worked he said:

"I fear I must run out on you, as the pard said to the lioness when the lion

returned home."

"You mean — you mean to leave the gang?"

"Aye. That makes you head surveyor. The Syndicate owes me for the work I've

done so far. Pray collect my pay and keep it against my return."

"When will that be, Nikko?"

"I know not. Perchance in a fortnight, perchance in a year."

"Whither away? Why the haste and mystery?"

"Say that 1 fear the blast of the wintry winds and the drip, drip, drip of the

rain. When and if I return, I'll seek you out and tell you about it—and also

collect my pay."

"The boys will be sorry to see you go. You drive them hard, but they think

you're a good boss."

"Tis good of you to say so. By rights you should have had my job."

"True, but 1 never could get the work out of them as you do. Did 1 hear that

foreign fellow call you 'lorian'?"

"Aye, but he had confused me with another man entirely."

With his duffel bag slung over his back and Ikadion following, lorian strode

to the head of the stair. Glancing over the scene below, he muttered: "Where's

that Zerlik?" Then he stepped back and knocked on the door of the private room

occupied by the Irazi.

"Coming, coming," said Zerlik's voice.

"Well, hurry up! Have you sent your man to get out the car-"

"Nay, Ayuir is in here helping me. You do not expect me to pack my own gear,

do you?"

Jorian sucked his breath through his teeth. "I've just packed mine without

dying of the effects. What do you want, an egg in your beer? Send the fellow

out; we have no time to squander."

The door jerked open. Zerlik said: "My good man,

THE CLOCKS OF IRAZ

if you think I will do my own chores like a common lout, just to meet your

convenience—"

jorian Bushed a dangerous red. At that moment, Zer-lik's servant, a small,

swarthy man, spoke timidly in his own tongue. Zerlik hriefly replied. Ayuir

picked up the massive wooden chest and issued from the room.

"One moment," said Zeriik. "I needs must give the room a last inspection, lest

I forget aught."

forian waited while the servant staggered down the stairs with the chest.

Ayuir set the box down near the door and scuttled out.

Zerlik came out of his room; he, Jorian, and Ikadion started down the stairs.

As they did-so, five men in plain black clothing entered the Scarlet Mammoth.

In the lead came the chunky man, who pointed to Jorian and shouted:

"There he is, hoys! Take him! King Jorian, I com-maud you in the name of the

kingdom of Xylar to surrender!"

The five rushed across the floor, circling around the table at which the

gaping surveyors sat. As one of the former started up the stairs, {orian swung

his duffel bag off his shoulder and hurled it at the man. The missile bowled

the fellow over, and the man behind him tripped over his body.

Before they could recover, Jonan's sword came out with a wheep. Jorian hurdled

the two sprawling figures and brought the blade down in a whistling cut on the

shoulder of the next intruder. The man screamed and staggered back, cloven

halfway to the breastbone. He sank to the floor in a swiftly widening pool of

blood.

Another black-clad man threw a net over Jorian's head. Jorian slashed at the

net but only entangled his sword in its meshes. He struggled to tear off the

net, but the men in black expertly drew it tighter about him, while one

stepped up behind him with a bludgeon.

"Surveyors, to me," roared forian. "Help! Zerlik, bear a hand! Theudus!"

Coming out of their daze, the surveyors rose to attack the men in black. Three

of the latter pulled out short swords. The surveyor had only daggers, but one

THE CLOCKS OF IRAZ

picked up a stool and smote the nearest Xylanan over the head.

Theudus appeared with a mallet. After hesitating to see who was fighting whom,

he waded in with the surveyors. Zerlik, after dancing excitedly about on the

fringe of the fray, ran to his chest, fumbled with a key, opened the chest,

and took out a light scimitar.

Assailed from all sides, the Xylarians left off co-cooning Jorian to defend

themselves. Jorian tore and cut his way out of the net and fell upon the foe.

Since not only was he the largest man in the room hut also his sword had much

the longest reach, his reentry into the fray tipped the odds against the

kidnappers.

The combatants swayed back and forth, stabbing, punching, grappling, falling

down and scrambling up again, hurling crockery, thrusting, slashing, swinging,

and kicking. The room resounded with the shouts of the fighters, the boom of

overturned furniture, and the crash of breaking tableware. Red blood spattered

the floor and stained the fighters' garments. The Red Mammoth trembled to the

stamping of feet. The dm of roars, yells, curses, and threats wafted into the

street, so that several Oryncians gathered about the door.

Outnumbered, the newcomers were soon overborne. Jorian sped a fierce thrust

through the body of one, while the Xylarian was engaged with Zerlik. As the

man fell, the remaining four set up a cry:

"Out! Flee! Save himself who can!"

The four burst through their opponents and out the door. Two dragged another,

half-stunned by a blow from Theudus' mallet. The three still on their feet

displayed slashed clothing and oozing wounds. The faees of two were masks of

blood from head wounds. A flourish of weapons sent the spectators fleeing, and

the quartet vanished into the gathering dark.

Inside, two surveyors bound up cuts, while Ikadion sat with head in hands,

nursing a growing lump on his pate from a Xylarian bludgeon. The first man

whom

THE CLOCKS OF [RAZ

Jorian had struck down was dead; the other coughed bloody froth.

"My nice tavern!" wailed Theudus, surveying the wreckage.

"We didn't do it wantonly, Master Theudus," said Jorian, leaning on his sword

and breathing hard. "Bear a hand with cleaning up, Floro. You, too, Vilerias.

Tot up the cost of breakage, mine host, and Master Zerlik will pay."

"What?" shrilled Zerlik.

"Charge it against the sum Karadur entrusted to you on my behalf."

"Are you in sooth the fugitive King Jorian of Xylar?" said a surveyor in an

awed tone.

Jorian ignored the question and turned to Theudus, who stood over the wounded

Xylarian. The taverner said:

"This fellow may linger for hours, but I misdoubt he'll survive- Someone

should fetch the constable; there must be an inquest on these manslayings."

"Inquest all you like, but without me," said Jorian. "I'm off with Master

Zerlik."

Theudus shook his head. "Tis not lawful, to leave town ere the magistrate has

dismissed you. There might be charges."

"I'm sorry. Whereas I am a reasonably law-abiding wight, I can't wait around

for another gang to lay me by the heels, whilst your men of the law mumble

gravely in their beards. Pay Master Theudus, O Zerlik." While Zerlik fumbled

with his purse, Jorian donned his hat and shouldered his duffel bag. "Now

let's forth!"

"But, Master forian!" said Zerlik. "It is all but dark."

"So much the better."

"But we shall get lost or overset the chariot—"

"Fear not; I'll drive. There's a moon, and I know the roads hereabouts."

Heavily laden with three men and their gear, Zerlik's chariot, drawn by a pair

of handsome Fedirum whites, reached the village of Evrodmm around midnight.

Zerlik climbed down shakily, saying:

THE CLOCKS OF 1RAZ

"Methought my last moment had come a hundred times, Master Jorian. Where got

you that skill with driving a car?"

fonan laughed. "I can do many things, some passing well and some not so well.

I'm probably the only wandering adventurer especially trained for the role."

When they had secured quarters, Zerlik asked Jorian to elucidate his last

remark. Over dinner, Jorian — who had a weakness for talk—explained.

"I got into the king business by happenstance. I was about your age and had

been apprenticed to various crafts, such as clockmaking and carpentry, and had

served a hitch in the army of Othomae. When that was over, I wandered into

Xylar to see what might turn up. I happened upon the drill field outside Xylar

City on the day of the casting of the Lot of Imbal, when they behead the old

king and toss his head to the crowd.

"When, not knowing this curious custom, I saw this dark, round thing whirling

towards me, I caught it without thinking. To my horror I found that I was the

new king of Xylar, having caught my predecessor's gory head.

"As soon as I learnt that the same fate awaited me five years thence, I sought

means to escape. I tried to flee, to bribe my way out, to persuade the

Xylarians to change their damned system, and even to drink myself to death,

all without avail.

"Then I learnt that, with the help of Doctor Kara-dur's spells, I might just

possibly escape, in return for a favor I was able to do him. Did I succeed,

howsomever, the Xylarians would pursue me to the ends of the earth, since

their laws suffer not a new king to be chosen by any but the prescribed

method, and therefore they must essay to drag me back and resume their

interrupted rite to permit public business to go on-""

"How if the king die in office-" asked Zerlik. "Or if you die ere they can

recapture you?"

"They have other procedures in such cases; but they

'Sec L. Spraguc du Camp: The Goblin Tower (Pyramid Books, 19681-

THE CLOCKS OF IRAZ

are irrelevant to me, since I'm not yet dead and have no yearning to become

so. To resume: Knowing that I was virtually condemned—should my escape succeed

— to the life of a wandering adventurer, I prepared myself therefore by the

practice of such arts as acting, rough-and-tumble fighting, sleight-of-hand,

cozenage, and burglary. Fur these, I had the tutoring of some of the most

unsavory rogues in the Twelve Cities. But some of their lessons have proven

most serviceable."

Zerlik: "Do you like this irregulous life?"

"Nay. My real ambition is to be a respectable craftsman or tradesman — a

surveyor, for ensample—earning a decent if modest living, rearing a family,

meeting my obligations, and plaguing no man. A peaceful bourgeois life would

suit me well, but it seems to flee betore me like the end of a rainbow."

"If you knew the Xylanans were after you, why took you this post in Ir, next

door to Xylar? Why not work in some more distant place, like Zolon or Tarxia?"

"Because the Xylarians hold something I wish: to wit, my wife. Therefore I

skulk about their borders, seeking means to get her out."

"Oh. Is this the Estrildis whereof the letter from Karadur speaks?"

fonan gave Zerlik a hard look. "By Imbal's iron piz-zle, young sir, you seem

to have made rather free with my private correspondence!"

"Oh, but [orian, Doctor Karadur requested that 1 memorize the message, in case

the letter were lost or destroyed!"

"Ah, that's different. Ay, 'tis she."

"Oh. I have heard that you Novarians entertain ro-mantical notions about

women. When one has several wives, as I have, one takes a particular woman

less seriously."

"I had several wives, too, when I was king. Five, in fact; the Xylarians allow

a plurality of wives to the king but not to his subjects. Mulvanian or

Penembic influence in the southern tier, I suppose. But this was the last, and

the one I chose myself."

"Really-" Zerlik patted a yawn. "It is hard for me to

THE CLOCKS OF [RAZ

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摘要：

Author'sNoteWhilethereadermay,naturally,pronouncethenamesinthistaleashepleases,forPenembicnamesIhadthefollowingschemeinmind:ueandoeasinGerman;ui(obscured)asin"biscuit";othervowelsmoreorlessasinSpanishandconsonantsasinEnglish.HenceAyuirrhymeswith"fire";Chaluish,with"demolish";Chui-vir,with"severe."Th...

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