Free The Fallable Fiend by L. Sprague deCamp

marched off down the road to Chemnis. They made a brave showing with banners fluttering and Laroldo the banker, in full armor, riding at their head.
    Another thousand or so remained behind on the flat, being drilled by old Segovian, the drillmaster. The youths drilled with staves and brooms until proper weapons could be found for them.
    Segovian was a stout bear of a man with a grizzled beard and a voice like thunder. He was the only man in Ir who gave much thought to military matters. The other Irians looked upon him as somewhat of an uncouth, blood-thirsty barbarian. They kept him on as a necessary nuisance, like firemen and collectors of waste.
    For over a century, the Republic had pursued a peaceful policy towards other Novarian nations. The Syndicate, the ruling body of the merchant aristocracy, devoted itself with single-minded acuteness to the amassing of wealth. Some of these riches were judiciously spent in hiring the navy of Zolon to ward the coast. Some went in bribes to other Novarian leaders, playing one off against another and dissuading them from combining against Ir. The policy had worked well enough with other Novarians, but the Paaluans bid fair to be foes of another kidney.

V
    LAROLDO THE BANKER
    During this day of mobilization and bustle, I remained at Roska’s house to help her scry. For most of the day, however, this did us little good. The Paaluan wizards had become aware that they were being spied upon. No sooner should we get a fix with the Sapphire than their wizards would point their magical bones and spoil the picture. Therefore we had only brief glimpses of the foe.
    From time to time, we shifted our view to the port of Chemnis. We kept watching and hoping for the messengers from Ir to arrive; but, as far as we could see, the town pursued its normal business undisturbed.
    Late in the day, while watching Chemnis, I sighted a cluster of black specks on the western horizon. When I told Roska about them, she groaned.
    “Oh, gods!” she cried. “ ’Tis the man-eaters, about to descend upon the unarmed Chemnites and slaughter the lot. What delays our messengers?”
    “Distance, mainly,” quoth I. “Besides which, if I know you fickle Prime Planers, they’re as likely as not to have stopped off at a tavern and gotten drunk. Hold! I see something else.”
    “What is it? What is it?”
    “A man riding into Chemnis on a mule. Let me get a closer fix upon him. He appears old and bent, with long gray hair streaming out from under his hat; yet he lashes his beast to a canter. By the gods of Ning, it is my old master, the wizard Maldivius! Now I see him drawing rein as he passes a couple of Chemnites. He is shouting and waving his arms. Now he gallops on, to stop again and exhort the next passerby.”
    “At least the Chemnites will have received some warning,” said Roska. “If they believe his warning and flee at once, they may escape the stew pot.”
    “You Prime Planers never cease to amaze me, madam,” I said. “I had opined that Doctor Maldivius was too utterly selfish to be bothered with warning anybody of doom, unless the good doctor could extract a price for his information.”
    “As you see, he’s not an utter scoundrel. We seldom are, or utter anything else for that matter.”
    I continued to watch the port city. Evidently the first persons to whom Maldivius spoke disbelieved him, for they continued about their business as if nothing had happened. Little by little, however, his cries of warning began to take effect. I could see little clusters of people, standing about and gesticulating as they argued. Within an hour of the first warning, people began loading their goods into carts, or lashing them on the backs of beasts of burden, and taking the road up the Kyamos.
    Less than half the townspeople had taken to the road, however, when the Paaluan fleet appeared off shore. Then terror struck. The road became jammed with hurrying townsfolk, jog-trotting and stumbling away from their