Free The Fallable Fiend by L. Sprague deCamp Page B

like—that some Prime Plane nations have developed to such a pitch of artistry. He simply lined up his army, with the Shvenites around him in the center, waved his sword, and ordered them forward. Then all was lost in the dust.
    It was only a fraction of an hour later, however, that we began to glimpse fugitives—Irians, not Paaluans—running madly from the battle. We saw some Irians shot or speared by the crews on the backs of the dragon-lizards, while the lizards gobbled a few. Then, as the scene shifted, I saw His Excellency Laroldo galloping eastwards. The Syndics present at this session of scrying cried aloud, beat their breasts, tore their hair, and uttered maledictions and threats against Laroldo, whom they blamed for the defeat.
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    The banker-turned-soldier reached Ir a few hours later and staggered into Madam Roska’s home, covered with dust and blood and with several pieces of his armor dangling by single straps. He threw the stump of his broken sword on the floor and told the assembled Syndics: “We’re beaten.”
    “We know that, you fool,” said Jimmon. “How bad is it?”
    “Total, as far as I’m concerned,” said Laroldo. “The militia folded up at the first shock and ran like rabbits.”
    “What of the Shvenites?”
    “When they saw the day was lost, they formed a hollow square and marched off, presenting a hedgehog with their pikes. The enemy let them go, preferring to chase easier prey that would not fight back.”
    One Syndic said: “I do notice that you saved your own precious neck. A hero would have fallen trying to rally his men.”
    “By Franda’s golden locks, I’m no hero, merely a banker. And ’twould have done you no good for me to have fallen on the field. Since we were well outnumbered, the battle would have come out the same, and you’d not have had what little help I can give you. Had I consulted my own safety merely, I should have ridden off to Metouro. After ’tis over, an we still live, you may hang, shoot, or behead me as you list. Meanwhile, let’s get on with the job.” My tendrils told me that the man was sincere.
    “Well said,” quoth another Syndic, for much of the Syndicates’ rancor against Laroldo had abated in the face of so huge a catastrophe. “But tell me, Master Laroldo, we’ve followed your advance by the scry stone. Why tried you not some trick maneuver—a feint or a flanking movement, for example? I’ve read how other generals have beaten superior forces by such sleights.”
    “They had armies of well-trained men—veterans—whereas I had a mob of tyros. Even had I known about such maneuvers, ’twas all I could do to get my gaggle of geese lined up and all moving in the same direction at once. But now, if you crave not to be fodder for the cannibals, you needs must raise a new army. Make it of boys, grandsires, slaves, and women if need be, and arm them with brooms and bricks if swords and arrows be lacking. For those who come against us meant to salt you and ship you back to Paalua to dine on for many a moon.”
    “You don’t suppose we could buy them off, eh?” said Jimmon. “Our treasury flourishes.”
    “Not a chance. Their land is mostly desert and hence poor in pasture whereon to raise edible beasts. They crave flesh, and every so often they sally forth to other continents to get it. Nor do they care whether ’tis the flesh of men or of beasts. And so, right now, one good iron arrowhead is worth more to you than its weight in refined gold.”
    There was a general chorus of sighs around the circle of Syndics. Jimmon said: “Ah, well, now that it’s too late, ’tis easy to see the follies of our former courses. It shall be done as Master Laroldo prescribes.”
    “Can’t we seek for aid from one or another of the Twelve Cities?” said a Syndic.
    Jimmon frowned in thought. “Tonio of Xylar is hostile because of his alliance with Govannian. We shall be lucky if he try not to join forces with the invaders.”
    “ ’Twere like