scrambled toward the magician. If there was an opportunity to grab the magic sword, he would have the means to make them listen.
As Jemidon slowly approached, Rosimar turned and raised the blade up over his head. But when they closed, Benedict bolted from behind Rosimar's back and tumbled over a stack of scrolls to Nimrod's side. 'It is the amount of space!' the divulgent shrieked. 'The magician can barely cope as it is. Confine him! Restrict him! It is the only weakness, as long as he wields the weapon!'
Nimrod frowned in puzzlement, but Benedict did not wait. 'It is information,' he said while he ripped off his robe and thrust it into the constable's hands. 'Use it. There will be no fee.'
Nimrod nodded. While Rosimar tensed for Jemidon to come another foot closer, Nimrod circled behind the magician and flung the robe over the magician's head. Where the material touched the blade, it immediately parted; but enough fell on Rosimar's face to prevent him from seeing. Dropping the sword, he grabbed for the robe with both hands. 'Air!' he shouted suddenly. 'Air! Give me room. Let me out. I must have more air so that I can breathe.'
The sword spun to the ground point first. Silently it slid into the stone halfway to the hilt. Jemidon shuffled forward as Nimrod wrapped his arms around Rosimar and hurled the magician to the ground. The constable quickly disengaged and prepared to lunge for the weapon, but Jemidon waved him away with the tip of his own blade. Then, grasping the guard awkwardly with his left hand, he strained to pull the magic sword from the ground.
The grip was hot; stabs of pain coursed through his palm. Jemidon flinched in surprise but determinedly tightened his fingers, ignoring the biting teeth that seemed to gnaw through his flesh.
He tugged gently and then with greater force, but the sword did not budge. He saw a flick of motion out of the corner of his eye and moved aside, just in time to avoid a thrust from two men-at-arms who converged from the right. Positioning his back toward the wall, he swung his blade in a wide arc to keep all hands away from the sword in the stone. As he saw the guardsmen pause, he decided what he must try. With a blurring motion, he dropped his own blade and placed both hands around the broadsword's grip. Rising from his knees and using all the strength in his back, he strained to pull it free.
But again the sword did not move. Except for a slight quiver of the hilt in response to Jemidon's tugs, it remained frozen in the rock. In desperation, Jemidon jerked to both sides and tried to twist the shaft. For a moment, the men-at-arms stood motionless while he struggled, but at last they saw he would remain unarmed and converged from all sides.
'No!' Jemidon heard Augusta shout from his rear. He turned just in time to see the stool she held descend toward his head. In an explosion of light, he fell forward, his grip on the magic broadsword sliding away.
The scene blurred as if it were viewed through cloudy water. A ringing persisted in Jemidon's ears. His calf throbbed with a dull pain, and his arms were bound tightly behind his back. He was propped against a wall, and Augusta huddled at his side. Near her feet, Rosimar twitched in his bonds and stared vacantly into space.
Nimrod now sat at the small table in the rear of the chamber. Solemnly, he examined the outstretched palm offered by the first in a queue which ran along the wall to the right. Behind his chair stood the cloaked form of Melizar, and next to him, holding the magic sword gingerly at arm's length, was another man-at-arms. In the center of the first row of the encircling throng, Trocolar stroked the bulge of his stomach with a jeweled hand.
'Eight small stones and one twice the size,' Nimrod boomed over the buzzing all around. 'An equivalent of ten altogether. Very well, Cumbrist, how do you vote?'
'For the head of the council, it cannot matter.' Cumbrist looked up at the chalked totals on the slates erected behind the table. 'But for the record, let is show that I add my support to the expert trader.'
'Trocolar is right,' another voice rang out. 'There are barely a dozen of us left. And the common street hawkers have less than anyone here. We waste our time for the sake of tradition. Let us declare the trader the leader by acclamation and be done. It is in all our best interests to return to the shoreline quickly to protect what remains from the looters.'
Jemidon saw Trocolar smile and bow slightly to the speaker. 'I am pleased that others also see the practicalities of the moment. If now no one objects, I am ready to assume the responsibility of restoring order and issue my first edicts.'
The murmuring stopped. Everyone present looked to his neighbor to see what he would say. For a full minute, no one spoke, and then Trocoiar strode deliberately to the rear of the cavern where Rosimar had made his stand.
'Constable Nimrod, you are now mine to command,' the trader said. 'No one voices dissent. And my first instruction is for you to seize the vaultholder Augusta and transfer her writ of personal ownership to me. Her and her remaining assets. She is a debtor, and as senior lien holder, I have first rights to do with her what I will.'
'It is the rule for the surrender of the body to come after transfer of the other assets has been duly recorded,' Nimrod said. 'Three days' grace is given to settle one's personal affairs. That has been the custom for many years.'
'My first instruction,' Trocoiar repeated. 'Carry it out quickly, or a reprimand will be the second.'
'Our charter is to enforce an equitable peace.' Nimrod's tone hardened. 'Not to serve as the instrument for some private intrigue.' He waved at Jemidon and Rosimar. 'It is for the likes of these that we administer swift justice. The fate of the vaultholder should follow the due course of law.'
'The intruders concern me less.' Trocoiar said. 'They strove to disrupt the orderly transition of power. Every faction here supports the retribution that is its due. All would help to heat the shears and turn the cranks. But Augusta's crime might go unpunished, were I not to exercise my responsibility as leader.'
'Some inner desire warps your reason.' Nimrod scowled. 'The danger of the day is from the two who are bound. Indeed, it is well that the younger was somehow unable to remove the sword from the rocky floor before he was felled. He was no stiff-armed magician. With the blade in his hand, it is uncertain what the outcome would have been.'
Jemidon frowned and tried to reason through the implications of what was being said, but his thoughts were slowed. He had been unable to budge the sword, even though he had strained with all his might. Yet now the constable held it free and clear of surrounding rock. Had it lost its magic while he was unaware, or had something else prevented him from wielding it?
'As you say, they are bound.' Trocolar paid no attention to Jemidon's puzzlement. 'But as yet the vaultholder is not. Seize-'
'Your petty vendettas can be no more than second priority, Trocolar,' Melizar suddenly interrupted. 'Foremost, you must honor the terms of our agreement that made your victory possible. You now lead the council. My skills put you there. In payment, you are to provide me a year's service of your constabulary to follow my instructions and not your own.'
Trocolar scowled. He turned to face Melizar's shadowy hood. 'There are riots in the streets,' he said. 'Warehouses are being plundered. Already two passing ships have refused to anchor. When we made our bargain, you did not hint at the turmoil that would result. As elected leader, I also have the responsibility to see that order is restored.'
''Assemble and train a new cadre of warriors,' Melizar said. 'My need now is greater. The unrest in the wheat fields may not last beyond the season.'
'I did not think that your scheme had any merit.' Trocolar shook his head. 'It appeared a risk-free means of securing five hundred tokens with which to augment my vote. I had no intention of surrendering such a central element of power after I had won.'
'Nevertheless, I provided the skills without which you could not have been guaranteed victory,' Melizar replied. 'We have an agreement. I have honored my part. You must do the same.'
'And I had the clerks, the distribution, and the strategic locations for the glamours,' Trocolar snapped back. 'I exploited the use of your wares as I would any other's. The triumph is of my own making. No other credit is due.'
Trocolar paused for breath and then smiled. 'You speak of agreements to honor, but what have you truly offered in good faith? Worthless disks of metal, five hundred circles of dull steel. And the stones-they have value of their own creation. Intrinsic worth because demand exceeds the supply, independent of the rituals in the confines
