"De Camp, L Sprague - RK 2 - The Clocks Of Iraz UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (De Camp L Sprague)

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

8

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

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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."