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Authors: L. Sprague deCamp
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influence to get you your seat. ’Twould do no harm to have two Syndics in one family.”
Another said: “I have a wife, but if the fair Roska would enter into an—ah—arrangement—”
“Shut thy gob, thou vulgar barbarian!” said Jimmon. “You know Madam Roska is the most virtuous woman in Ir. Besides, if she entered into any such arrangement, ’twere with me, who am much richer than you. Now, what about the black cannibals, eh?”
“If we hadn’t paid Zolon to send its fleet north against the pirates of Algarth,” said one, “their navy would make short work of the Paaluans.”
“But we did pay,” said Jimmon, “and the Zolonian navy did sail, and ’twere hopeless to try to recall them.”
“It wouldn’t have been, had you not taken so much time dickering with Maldivius,” said another.
“A pox on you! I had to husband the taxpayers’ money,” said Jimmon. “Had I taken Maldivius’ first offer, you’d have had my scalp for wasting the Republic’s wealth. Besides, right or wrong, that’s over and done with. The question is: what to do now?”
“Arm!” said one.
“You forget,” said Jimmon, “that we sold our reserve stock of arms to get the money to pay the High Admiral of Zolon for the Algarthian expedition.”
“Oh, gods!” said one. “What sort of mercenary idiots . . .”
And so it went for hours, with bitter recriminations. Each Syndic sought to cast the blame for the Republic’s unpreparedness on one of the others. When the day was well spent, the Syndics decreed the instant mobilization of the militia and commanded all men not under arms to betake themselves to the manufacture of weapons. They appointed the youngest of the Syndics, a financier named Laroldo, commander-in-chief.
Laroldo said: “I am deeply sensible of the honor you do me, gentlemen, and I will try to merit your approval. First, however, may I suggest that we keep our proceedings secret until the morrow, at which time we shall publish our decrees and send a messenger to Chemnis to warn the Chemnites? I think Your Excellencies understand why.” He winked at his fellow Syndics.
Madam Roska spoke up sharply: “Why the delay? Every hour is precious.”
“Well, ahem,” said Jimmon, “ ’tis too late in the day to do aught useful. Besides, we would fain not excite the commons; a panic in this underground city were a dreadful thing.”
“Oh, fiddlesticks!” said Roska. “I know what you’re up to. You mean to scour the markets and buy up all the food and other necessities, knowing that their prices will soar—especially if Ir be besieged. Shame on you, to take advantage of the people in this heartless fashion!”
“My dear Roska,” said Jimmon, “you are after all a woman, even if a beautiful and accomplished one. Therefore you don’t understand these things—”
“I understand well enough! I’ll tell the people of your plot to forestall and engross—”
“I think you’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Jimmon. “This is an executive session, with full power to control the release of its proceedings. Anyone who wantonly reveals what takes place here, before official publication, can be mulcted of his entire estate in fines. And you, my dear, are much too delicate to be a scrubwoman. Do I make myself clear, eh?”
Roska burst into tears and left the room. The Syndicate adjourned, and the Syndics gathered their cloaks and swords with unseemly haste. My tendrils told me that Roska was right; that they were frantic to get to the markets and shops ere they closed and ere rumors of the invasion sent prices up.
Next day, the orders of the Syndicate were posted, and two messengers galloped off towards Chemnis. During the entire day, Ir was in a state of furious bustle. Somewhat over four thousand militiamen—all for whom arms were to be had—and the two hundred-odd Shvenish mercenaries were mustered on the flat beyond the Tower of Ardyman. They were put through a few simple drills and
Another said: “I have a wife, but if the fair Roska would enter into an—ah—arrangement—”
“Shut thy gob, thou vulgar barbarian!” said Jimmon. “You know Madam Roska is the most virtuous woman in Ir. Besides, if she entered into any such arrangement, ’twere with me, who am much richer than you. Now, what about the black cannibals, eh?”
“If we hadn’t paid Zolon to send its fleet north against the pirates of Algarth,” said one, “their navy would make short work of the Paaluans.”
“But we did pay,” said Jimmon, “and the Zolonian navy did sail, and ’twere hopeless to try to recall them.”
“It wouldn’t have been, had you not taken so much time dickering with Maldivius,” said another.
“A pox on you! I had to husband the taxpayers’ money,” said Jimmon. “Had I taken Maldivius’ first offer, you’d have had my scalp for wasting the Republic’s wealth. Besides, right or wrong, that’s over and done with. The question is: what to do now?”
“Arm!” said one.
“You forget,” said Jimmon, “that we sold our reserve stock of arms to get the money to pay the High Admiral of Zolon for the Algarthian expedition.”
“Oh, gods!” said one. “What sort of mercenary idiots . . .”
And so it went for hours, with bitter recriminations. Each Syndic sought to cast the blame for the Republic’s unpreparedness on one of the others. When the day was well spent, the Syndics decreed the instant mobilization of the militia and commanded all men not under arms to betake themselves to the manufacture of weapons. They appointed the youngest of the Syndics, a financier named Laroldo, commander-in-chief.
Laroldo said: “I am deeply sensible of the honor you do me, gentlemen, and I will try to merit your approval. First, however, may I suggest that we keep our proceedings secret until the morrow, at which time we shall publish our decrees and send a messenger to Chemnis to warn the Chemnites? I think Your Excellencies understand why.” He winked at his fellow Syndics.
Madam Roska spoke up sharply: “Why the delay? Every hour is precious.”
“Well, ahem,” said Jimmon, “ ’tis too late in the day to do aught useful. Besides, we would fain not excite the commons; a panic in this underground city were a dreadful thing.”
“Oh, fiddlesticks!” said Roska. “I know what you’re up to. You mean to scour the markets and buy up all the food and other necessities, knowing that their prices will soar—especially if Ir be besieged. Shame on you, to take advantage of the people in this heartless fashion!”
“My dear Roska,” said Jimmon, “you are after all a woman, even if a beautiful and accomplished one. Therefore you don’t understand these things—”
“I understand well enough! I’ll tell the people of your plot to forestall and engross—”
“I think you’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Jimmon. “This is an executive session, with full power to control the release of its proceedings. Anyone who wantonly reveals what takes place here, before official publication, can be mulcted of his entire estate in fines. And you, my dear, are much too delicate to be a scrubwoman. Do I make myself clear, eh?”
Roska burst into tears and left the room. The Syndicate adjourned, and the Syndics gathered their cloaks and swords with unseemly haste. My tendrils told me that Roska was right; that they were frantic to get to the markets and shops ere they closed and ere rumors of the invasion sent prices up.
Next day, the orders of the Syndicate were posted, and two messengers galloped off towards Chemnis. During the entire day, Ir was in a state of furious bustle. Somewhat over four thousand militiamen—all for whom arms were to be had—and the two hundred-odd Shvenish mercenaries were mustered on the flat beyond the Tower of Ardyman. They were put through a few simple drills and
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