'The sword,' Trocolar demanded. 'Nimrod, use the sword.'
The constable snapped shut his gaping mouth and sprang into action. He ripped the blade from the man who held it and slashed at Holgon's legs. The magician's support buckled, and he tumbled to the ground. With eyes wide in fear, he threw his hands across his face, awaiting the next blow.
But the rumbling instantly stopped, and Nimrod hesitated before continuing the attack. He grunted as he saw a crimson stain begin to glisten in the hem of Holgon's robe and turned his attention back to Melizar.
'Yes, the sword.' Melizar stepped forward to meet his assailant. 'The sword that once sliced through rock. Until a moment ago, it held great power. But now, did it really feel all that different from any other when you tried it on the magician's flesh?'
Nimrod paused in mid-strike and turned the blade aside. It plunged toward the ground at Melizar's feet. With a shriek, it skittered across the rough stone and suddenly snapped near the hilt.
'And the scentstones.' Melizar glided to the three bags that Jemidon had brought to the grotto. 'Holgon's stompings have done more than rearrange the structures of the caverns. See also what they have done to crystal impurities.'
With a surprising grace, he dumped the sacks to the floor, one after another.
'Cloudy!' someone exclaimed as the stones poured over his feet. 'Not even citrine or amethyst. Milky quartz and no more!'
'Look closely, Nimrod,' Melizar continued over the din that arose as everyone present began to examine his own collection of stones. 'It is with this simple rock that you will be paid for your labor and the past year. Who knows what it will be for the next? Come with me to the wheat fields of the mainland, and there will be plunder enough for all.'
The wave of white pebbles spilling onto the floor acted like a catalyst. The voices competing with Melizar's rose in volume. First had come the shock of the ruined tokens and now of their glittering, worthless replacements- financial ruin twice within a week. Traders and vaultholders began to push between the men-at-arms to side with trusted comrades. Swords rattled with anger in their scabbards.
'The stones are nothing!' one of the men-at-arms shouted. 'And I am in debt! I depended on my fee to settle free and clear.'
'Then to the mainland with the cold one,' the guard next to him said. 'Enough of dull sentries and shrinking cubes.'
'Trocolar is the one at fault,' a trader cried. 'Without his tampering, this election would have proceeded as all those before.'
'To your positions,' Nimrod ordered. 'We have an obligation still to discharge.'
'For what?' one of his men shouted back. 'For ballast, good enough only to weight a ship's keel?'
'Divulgents, to your guildsmen. Protect one another until we are safely away.'
'Trocolar is not a winner. His clouded gems can be worth no more than mine. Now is the opportunity, vaultholders! Seize the records. Once again, the island can be ours.'
'Those for the mainland, to my side,' Melizar said. 'Do not let them dishonor you more.'
'Death to the schemer!' Luthor pushed his way through the crowd and headed for Trocolar, waving a small dagger over his head.
Another trader crumpled as he was hit from behind. A torch went sailing overhead to crash into the throng. Someone screamed, and then one guardsman tried to prevent another from reaching Nimrod's side. In a moment, the scene swirled into a chaos of motion, flashing blades, and flowing blood. The shouts and cries of pain mingled with the echoes reverberating from the walls. Torches were ripped from their sconces. In growing dimness, fists, daggers, and swords flailed at whatever was closest at hand.
A richly robed merchant dropped at Jemidon's feet, clutching his stomach, with spurts of gore pulsing between his fingertips.
'His dagger!' Jemidon shouted. 'Quickly, Augusta, cut my bonds so we can be away.'
Augusta grabbed the blade just before another body fell. She severed Jemidon's bonds with quick slashes. In an instant, he was on his feet and testing his leg, 'Into the passage.' He pointed at one of the tunnels leading from the cavern. 'On the way, you can tell me where it leads.'
Limping as rapidly as he could, he pulled her into the opening and away from the fighting.
'It dead-ends after a twist a hundred paces farther along,' Augusta said as Jemidon hobbled after. 'There is no other way out, except back the way we came.'
'A place of defense, then.' Jemidon grimaced. 'And time to tell me of what you saw happening through clearer eyes.' He stopped a second and thought back over what he had seen. 'From what Melizar had said, the sword still held power when I tried to withdraw it from the rock. And then, almost without effort, the laws have changed again. Another node in the lattice-and Melizar selected exactly which one it would be.'
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JEMIDON flexed his back and peered around the corner. He saw only pitch blackness. Except for the soft splash of distant oars, there was no sound. No one had pursued them. For over four hours, they had waited for the chaos at the other end of the tunnel to die away and the last survivor to leave.
'Let's hope that in the confusion at least one boat was left,' Jemidon said as he straightened to full height. 'Come, I think it is safe enough now that I can get you out.'
'But what has happened?' Augusta asked in the darkness. 'Does one faction now rule the island?'
Jemidon frowned. He was a good deal less confident than he was trying to appear. Twice he had rescued her from an immediate danger. But he had done little to free her from her ultimate fate. Now it was more than Trocolar's minions they had to fear. No faction on the island would aid the ones who disrupted the election with the magic sword. Likely as not, they could become the common focus for the frustration and anger, an outside enemy that everyone could hate, a catalyst for uniting into a new order out of the destruction of the old. And what could he accomplish now that he could not before? With an invisible shrug, Jemidon ignored Augusta's question and started down the passageway.
Cautiously he fingered the cold and damp walls and stepped over the rough variations in the rocky floor. Still limping, he guided Augusta back to the landing above the vault. In the entranceway, he stumbled over a lifeless body. He moved to the side, but ran into another. He felt Augusta tense to scream and put his arm around her shoulder.
'It is to our good fortune,' he said. 'Surely one of those who remain has a flint and steel.'
Positioning Augusta near the wall, he gave her a reassuring pat and then, on all fours, began to explore the floor of the cavern. After several minutes of distasteful groping, he found the necessary tools on one of the victims. Soon a single torch illuminated the arching ceiling with its flickering glow.
'Half the wealthholders of the island are gone,' Augusta gasped, 'Look, there is Cumbrist and next to him Benedict, his principal rival. Beyond them, I think I see even Trocolar among the rest.'
Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at the form barely an arm's length away. 'Poor Rosimar,' she said softly. 'He came for my sake and now he will play the hero no more.' She sank her head on Jemidon's shoulder and shook with a spasm. 'And he was bound, with not even the slightest defense. When I freed you, I should have thought of him as well.'
'You have seen enough.' Jemidon tugged her away. 'Let us go to the cliff edge to see what remains.'
The torchlight cut through the darkness down to the water. Only two skiffs were left. Even Jemidon's raft was gone. Sprawled over the side of one, with hands dangling in the water, was a trader with a dagger in his back.
'Luthor.' Augusta squinted through the gloom. 'He wears the embroidered leggings from his last trade. And look at the tide. I have never been here when it was so high. Quickly, Jemidon, we must leave.'
Jemidon nodded and started to move along the edge of the cliff toward the rope ladder. He looked back at the carnage and saw the sparkles of light that reflected from links of mail and broken blades. Would any of Melizar's
