Conan the Marauder (28 page)

"Did you bring the things I need?" he asked.

"Here, this should be sufficient." From a pocket sewn into the lining of her robe she withdrew a silken bag and a small vial of glass. Khondemir took them from her and turned back to the curious structure that had been erected upon the mound, next to a tall, stark standard of iron. From the top of the standard, white horses' tails waved in the moonlight and the skull of some fantastic beast grinned down at them.

The wizard set her offerings upon the structure, which was a low altar made of wood and leather. It had buckled straps at its corners, and the wizard had covered it with strange, writhing figures much like those embroidered upon his robe. Lakhme stared at them in fascination, for here was a source of power she had not yet mastered. The figures seemed to crawl before her gaze and she looked away.

Around the base of the mound she could see the fires of the Turanian-Sogarian camp. Beyond the fires there was a broad belt of darkness behind which were the smaller fires of the Hyrkanian horde. It was a circle of fire so immense that she felt a sinking in her belly.

"I see why you do not allow any of your men up here after dark," she said. "Such a sight would turn to ice the stoutest of hearts."

"There are other reasons," said Khondemir. "This place is now consecrated. No others may tread upon this spot save myself, you, and the Princess Ishkala. The stars are in their proper places. The phase of the moon is correct, and the focus of events has moved to this ground. Tomorrow night I shall summon a great Power. When I plunge the sacred dagger into Ishkala's breast and rip forth her still-beating heart, all of our plans will come to fruition. I shall be in complete control of the Kagan, Bartatua. When the confusion of battle is sorted out, I shall be the true commander of a mighty conquering army, and soon thereafter shall be the king of Turan."

He smiled benevolently., "And you, my dear, shall ascend the throne with me. Not as my queen, of course. The Turanians would never accept a Vendhyan pleasure-slave as their queen. But you shall be my chief concubine."

"Of course," she said, her smile as perfect and seductive as ever, "I would never aspire to a position so high and public as that of queen. However"—she swept her gaze over the huge encircling ring of fire—' 'I had hoped that you would be able to work your magic tonight. You may not be alive to work sorcery tomorrow night. The Hyrkanian host is vast, and its members are incensed that foreigners profane one of their burial grounds. Even without their bows and their horses, there are enough of them to sweep over you by weight alone."

His superior smile reappeared. "Have no fear. My men are very expert in war and will make the best use of their arms and of this position. Besides, not all of the Hyrkanians are so eager to avenge the profanation of this place. Only the Kagan's own people, the Ashkuz, hold the City sacred. The others may be making fierce noises, but that is only to display their loyalty to Bartatua. Tomorrow, when they advance across open ground on foot, about to fight in a manner they have always despised, they shall not be so eager. Mounted and armed with their fine bows, they are all but undefeatable. Afoot with hand weapons, they are little more than rabble."

She remembered the scornful words of Bajazet. "You may be correct."

"I am. And I shall be king of Turan. It is destiny." At that moment, seeing him standing atop the mound in his magnificent robes, she could readily believe it.

"I have obtained Bartatua's order of battle for the morrow," she said. "Will you hear it now?"

"Come down to my tent. You may relate it to my officers as well."

They descended the mound. She had no fear of being seen by Khondemir's officers, for they could never betray her to Bartatua. Should Khondemir's plans fail on the morrow, should the Ushi-Kagan be victorious, none of the enemy would be spared. Even should one or two be taken for questioning, she would see to it that they died before their tongues could give her any anxiety.

They passed by a fire where men were conversing while they oiled and sharpened their weapons. Almost unconsciously her instinct for eavesdropping caused Lakhme to listen to their words.

"There goes the master," said one as he thumbed the edge of a long, curved dagger. "He said that the savages would not attack tonight, and it looks as if he is right. We are safe until daybreak."

"True," said another with a sardonic smile. "We are safe barring another midnight visit from Conan of Cimmeria." The men around the campfire laughed at the witticism.

Lakhme felt icy fingers closing around her heart. She had barely been able to understand the rough Turanian dialect of the hill bandits, but the name caught her as surely as a noose cast by a Hyrkanian tribesman. She stopped in her tracks and turned on Khondemir.

"Conan! The Cimmerian! What do your men know of him?" Her voice was low, but urgent.

Khondemir was as one thunderstruck. "Conan of Cimmeria? Why does that name distress you?"

"Tell me!" she insisted.

"He is merely the men's latest bugaboo. Last night a man calling himself by that name came into the Turanian camp to spy. He had a companion with him, but that one did not speak. They were surrounded by my men, but after announcing himself, this Conan fellow proved to be a lion among hyenas. He slew a great swath of troops and fled without a trace. The men have made a night goblin of him, half in jest."

"What did he look like, and whence came he?" This news could not be true, she thought.

"The survivors described him as a veritable giant, with black hair to his shoulders and eyes that looked grey in the torchlight. He was painted black to escape detection. I suspect that he came from the Sogarian camp to spy upon me, but the pompous oaf of a captain denies having any such man in his following, and treated me insolently. He lies, of course. Where else could the man have come from? Men do not just wander in from the trackless steppe. What does the name mean to you?"

"An enemy," she said. "An upstart who grew too close to the Kagan. He seemed a needless complication, so I sought his downfall, both to rid myself of a rival for Bartatua's trust and to cement my secret relations with the shamans. I had him bound and naked and ready for sacrifice, but his friends rescued him and they escaped pursuit."

She rubbed her bare arms, although the night was warm. "It is he. Everything fits—the size, the hair, the eyes. And I know that he darkened his skin on a mission into Sogaria. He is a fearsome swordsman, and it is no wonder that your rogues were no stop to him."

Khondemir shrugged. "It is a minor matter. The man must have fallen in with the Sogarian column after his escape. He will have offered his services to Captain Jeku, including his expertise as a spy. Have no fear, he can cause you no harm now. After the fighting is over, should he still live, I shall give him to you as a plaything. Pray do not vex yourself over this trifling matter.''

"As you say," she said. "Perhaps it is just a coincidence." Still, she could not rid herself of a feeling of dread. "Enough of this," she said. "Let us go to your tent. I must return to the Hyrkanian lines long before it is light."

"Why?" Khondemir asked. "Stay here with me. You have done all that was necessary, now that I have those items which shall confer upon me power over the mind and soul of Bartatua."

"No, I may still spy upon the Hyrkanians. Who knows when some new factor, some change of plans, may be important?" In truth, she did not want to be in the City of Mounds should Khondemir fail.

He shrugged beneath his robes. "No matter. Perhaps it is best that you sit out the fighting in a safe place and join me afterwards." He looked up and studied the full moon, hanging skull-like above them. "At any rate, it will all be over after the sun sets tomorrow."

XVI

“The important thing to remember," Conan said, "is to keep your mouth shut, whatever anguish that may cost you. No matter what the Hyrkanians say, no matter what the threats to your city or country, do as I have told you or you are surely a dead man."

"I will remember," Manzur said. He was filled with tremendous fear and elation. They were in the midst of a vast enemy host! How dangerous, yet how heroic! What verses he would write when all this was over.

"Good," Conan said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Think of the loss to the world of poetry should you die before your time."

As they made their way toward the Hyrkanian lines, they passed two figures, one of them muffled in black robes. Manzur took no notice, but Conan smiled grimly as the black-robed one passed from view.

Among the tribesmen, who wore the dress of many steppe peoples and the armour of many nations, the two went unnoticed. They avoided fires, and the moonlight was not sufficient to reveal facial features clearly. Conan was looking for a fire larger than the others, and soon he found it. As they drew nearer, he saw faces he recognized, those of the Kagans and the high officers of Bartatua's great horde.

"Greeting, Kagan," Conan said as he stepped within the circle of firelight. Bartatua looked up and his face went blank.

A man seated at Conan's feet turned and snapped: "That is the Ushi-Kagan, you mannerless—" Then the man's jaw dropped. "By the Everlasting—" He struggled to his feet, yanking at his sword hilt.

Conan felt a dozen pairs of hands laid upon him, but he made no move to resist. A struggle would mean certain death.

"Hold! Do not slay him!" said the Ushi-Kagan. The grip upon Conan did not loosen. Bartatua rose to his feet and stood face-to-face with Conan, separated by no more than a hand-breadth. "I never thought to see you again, Cimmerian." He turned to look at Manzur. "Who is this? His garb is Sogarian."

"A man without power of speech, Ka—Ushi-Kagan. He found me lost upon the steppe. He is a caravan drover. His last stop was Sogaria, hence the clothes."

The assembled chieftains goggled at the apparition. They were ready to kill, but their leader seemed more thoughtful than wrathful.

"Come, Conan," Bartatua said. "Let us walk together. Release him."

A dozen voices shouted protest. "Nay, my lord!" cried the Gerul Kagan. "This is some trick! This foreigner proposes to slay you."

Bartatua barked a short laugh. "He walked to within three paces of where I sat unaware. Think you this man could not have slain me before you even knew he was in our midst?"

"Take my weapons if you wish," Conan said. "I mean the Ushi-Kagan no harm."

"You do not fool us, Conan," said the Budini chief. "Our leader is a mighty man, but we have all seen your strength. You can snap the neck of a powerful man in an instant."

"Bind my wrists, then," Conan said impatiently.

"No," said Bartatua. "I sense this is something important." He turned to his men. "Take his weapons and follow us at a little distance." He turned back to Conan. "I am curious, but I am no fool. Come with me. Your companion will be given food and wine."

The two walked a short way from the lines, where they could observe the fires of the City of Mounds. Behind them trailed the group of chiefs, hands gripped tight around the hilts of their weapons.

"I confess," Bartatua said, "that I was saddened to condemn you to death, and I felt little rage when I was told of your escape. Especially"—he grinned— "when I learned of how many of those scurvy shamans you sent to hell in getting away." He sobered again. "But that was a foolish thing you did, attacking my woman. I should kill you now for that."

"It is about your woman that I wish to speak," Conan said.

"Well?" said Bartatua, his voice dangerously gentle.

'' She has betrayed you."

The Ushi-Kagan turned to face Conan, and his expression would have stopped a charging bull. "Betrayed me? You mean with you?"

"It is not that kind of betrayal," said Conan. "And it is with Khondemir."

"Speak swiftly, Cimmerian," Bartatua ordered. "Your life hangs by a fine thread."

"My life has hung by many a thread," said Conan,

"and some of them have been finer than I care to remember." Then he told the Ushi-Kagan of the events upon the night when Lakhme had brought her false charge of attempted rape against him. He spoke of her orgiastic dance with the shamans. Bartatua's face became twisted with an immense pain in the telling, but Conan could not spare him.

The Cimmerian told of his escape and his wandering in the dust storm, and of how he was found by Manzur. He held back nothing save Manzur's true identity. At the end he told of the words he had heard issuing from Khondemir's tent on the previous night. For some time the Ushi-Kagan was unable to speak.

"Conan," he said at last, his voice little more than a husky croak, "if you lie, you shall die a death such as no man has ever known. It shall be a death so terrible that the demise of Conan the Cimmerian must resound through the centuries as the ultimate horror to be endured by mortal man." His tone left no doubt as to his sincerity.

"I do not lie, Kagan," Conan said. "Or should I say Ushi-Kagan?'

"Kagan is a good title," Bartatua said. "There is none nobler beneath the Everlasting Sky. Ushi-Kagan is the vaunting boast of a conqueror. I know not why, Conan, but I find it in my heart to believe you. Your words strike me harder than would the arrows of an enemy, but they carry the terrible sound of truth. Yet still I find it difficult to believe. Perhaps I gave her my heart because I always wanted a woman to love. But then, perhaps I trusted you because I always wanted a friend I could trust."

Conan found that his own heart was stricken by his next words. "If you would be convinced that I speak the truth, Bartatua," he said, "go now and call for your

woman. As I came hither, I saw her skulking toward the City of Mounds. She had a tribesman with her. She has gone to deliver to Khondemir whatever it is that he must have."

For a while Bartatua was again speechless. "After this," he said upon recovery, "even when I mount the throne of the world, the taste of triumph will be as the taste of soured wine. My destiny was to be pure, as ordained by the gods beneath the Everlasting Sky. Now it is corrupted by the perfidy of this woman, by my foolishness as a man, by my very acts. I was like a puppet in a Khitan shadow play, manipulated upon sticks by shadowy slaves behind a screen. Thus I betrayed and persecuted my only friend, while I foolishly was led by a faithless woman, as easily as a drover-boy leads a gelded ox!"