Roland Green - Conan The Valiant

As for the rest—

"Granting that Houma might be my match, how would you change that?"

"If you will leave Aghrapur on—a task—for me, I will find ways to change Lord Houma's mind. The task. should not take you more than a month. By then you can return to Aghrapur and sleep in peace."

"And this task?"

"In a moment. While you are traveling, I will also protect those you leave behind, who might also feel Houma's vengeance. I do not imagine that you care much what happens to Sergeant Motilal, but—would you see Pyla's face turned into something like my legs?"

Conan cursed himself for a witling. Houma was clearly the kind of coward who would hurt a foe however he could, whether honorably or not. He should not have forgotten the women.

"I would not like that at all," Conan said, then grinned at the look in Raihna's eyes. So let the swordwench be jealous! He owed Pyla and her friends more than he owed Raihna of Bossonia! "If you can protect them, it would indeed make your offer worth hearing."

"Although," Conan added more calmly than he felt, "I imagine you have plans for Lord Houma whether I'm part of mem or not. You might be keeping him too busy to worry about taverns and their girls anyway. He has more in hand than letting his son misbehave, doesn't he?"

In the silence that followed, Conan clearly heard the snik of a crossbow being cocked. He laughed. "Best tell that archer to cock his bow while people are still talking. When everyone's gaping like dead fish, it's too easy to hear—"

The white-robed woman broke the silence with warm if high-pitched laughter. "Mishrak, I told you several times. I have heard Raihna speak of this man and I have studied his aura. He is not one to be led by the nose, or by any other part of his body. Lead him by his sense of honor, and he will go where you will. Otherwise do not waste your breath."

A choking noise crept from under the leather hood. Conan suspected that if Mishrak could have strangled anyone, he would have started with Conan and gone on to the woman. Beside Conan, Raihna was pressing her face into a pillar to hide her blush and what looked remarkably like laughter.

"May I deserve your praise, lady," Conan said. "Would I be speaking to Mistress Illyana?"

"You would."

The woman also seemed to have northern blood in her, but her hair was brown with tints of auburn. She wore a simple flowing gown of white silk with saffron borders and silver-decorated sandals. The gown was too loose to show much of her body, but from the lines in the long face Conan judged her to be upwards of thirty. A trifle thin-flanked for his tastes, but not unhandsome.

Illyana accepted Conan's scrutiny in silence for a moment, then smiled. "With Lord Mishrak's permission, I will tell you what is asked of you. But first I will thank you for saving Raihna from death or shame. She began as a hired sword, but the years have made us spirit-sisters."

Conan frowned. "Auras" and "spirit-kin" were things of priestcraft if not wizardry. What was this woman?

"I ask your aid in a search for the missing Jewel of Kurag. It is a thing of ancient Atlantean magic, set in an arm-ring of Vanir work—"

She went on to describe the history of the Jewels, as much as was known of it, from their mysterious origins in Atlantis to the present day. It seemed they had a long and bloody history, for the spells needed to use them safely were hard to learn even for the most accomplished sorcerers.

"Then why bother with the Jewels at all?" Conan asked.

"Even separately, they confer great power on a skilled user. Together, no one knows what limits there might be on the magic of their possessor."

Conan reflected that he had learned nothing about sorcerers he had not long since known.

Illyana continued with the possession of the Jewels by her master Eremius, his growing ambition to use the powers of the Jewels to rule the world, their quarrel, her flight with one of the Jewels, and much else. She ended by saying that the tales of demons coming out of the Ibars Mountains hinted of Eremius's presence.

"With all in fear of him, his strength will grow steadily. Soon it will make him a valuable ally to ambitious men like Lord Houma. They will aid him, thinking to use his powers against their enemies. They will only be buying themselves the strongest chains of all, forged by the most ancient and evil magic."

"Ancient and evil magic…" Conan heard those words with icy clarity, although he had heard most of what went before with only half an ear.

Mishrak was not only asking him to flee like a thief from Aghrapur and Lord Houma's vengeance. He was asking a Cimmerian to guard the back of a sorceress on a quest for a menace no honest steel could face. He would also have wagered his sword that Illyana was telling less than the whole truth about the Jewels.

No honor in any of this. But even less in leaving Pyla and Zaria and young Thebia (who might grow no older) to the mercy of those who had none, either.

Curse all women and whatever god created them as a joke on men! They might be a mystery themselves, but they certainly knew how to bring a man to them, like a trainer with a half-grown hunting dog!

"By Hanuman's stones!" Conan growled. "I never thought listening could be as dry work as talking. Bring me and Raihna some wine, and I'll promise to fly to the moon and bring back its queen's loinguard!"

Two of the guardswomen sprang up without an order and vanished like hares fleeing the wolf. Conan sat down cross-legged and drew his sword. Sighting along the blade for nicks, he concluded he'd best put it in the hands of a smith before setting out on serious business.

When he knew he had everyone's attention, he laughed. "You want me to run off to the Ibars Mountains, with a half-mad swordwench and a more than half-mad sorceress. Then we hunt for a magic jewel and steal it from a completely mad wizard, fighting our way through whatever magic-spawned monsters we find. If we snatch the jewel, you'll win, whether we live or die."

Mishrak laughed for the first time since Conan mentioned Houma. "Conan, you should be one of my spies. I have none who could say half as much in twice as many words."

"I'd rather be gelded!"

"Why not do both? A fighting eunuch would be a valuable ear and eye in Vendhya. I'm sure you would rise high in my service."

Raihna gave up trying to stifle her laughter and buried her face in Conan's shoulder. He put an arm around her and she did not resist, only shaking the harder until tears streamed down her face.

By the time she was sober, the guardswomen had returned with the wine. Mishrak poured out the first cup, drank from it, and then watched in silence until the others were served.

"Well, Conan?" he said at last.

"Well, Mishrak. It's not to my taste, running like a thief because I didn't want my drinking spoiled by seeing a woman mishandled. It's less to my taste going anywhere in the company of a wizard.

"But you don't have the name of a fool, Mishrak. If you want me for this nonsense, I suppose you can have me."

Raihna threw her arms around Conan. From the look on Illyana's face, she would have liked to do the same. From under the black leather hood came only a harsh laugh.

Four

"Now HERE'S A finer mount than I'll wager you thought I had," the horse dealer said exuberantly. "Look at those legs. Look at that depth of chest. Look at that noble—"

"How is his wind?" Raihna said.

"He's no colt, I'll not deny that. He's better. A seasoned, trained mount fit to carry either of you wherever you might want to go. Begging your pardon, Captain, my lady, but neither of you has the look of dwarfs to these old eyes. To be sure, I'm a better judge of horses than of men, but—"

Raihna ignored the dealer and stepped up to the horse. He gave her what seemed to Conan a wary look, but showed no obvious skittishness or signs of mistreatment. He stood patiently for Raihna's examination, then tossed his head and whinnied when she patted his neck.