Roland Green - Conan The Valiant

Around him the villagers were giving way. Did they fear him or was it only the stink of the stream? He laughed, then swallowed hard. He feared that if he began laughing now, he would not easily stop.

Holding his breath, he knelt and scooped up a bit of floating filth. Then he smiled.

"Now we know what became of Perek's cattle!" he shouted. "They must have fallen into some ravine upstream. Hard luck for Perek."

"Hard luck for us, too!" someone shouted. "Can we all drink from the wells, until the stream runs clear again?"

"What else is there to do?" Bora asked, shrugging.

This reasonable question made some nod. Others frowned. "What if the cattle died—in a way against nature?" one of these said. None dared say the word "demons," as if their name might call them. "Will the water ever run clean again?"

"If—anything against nature—had a hand in this, it will show in the water," Bora said. He had to take a deep breath before he knew he could say the next words in a steady voice. "I will step into the water. If I step out unharmed, we need fear no more than rotting cattle."

This speech drew both cheers and protests. Several arguments and at least one fight broke out between the two factions. Bora ignored both and began stripping off his clothes. If he did not do this quickly, he might well lose the courage to do it at all.

The water was chill as always, biting with sharp, angry teeth that began on his toes and ended at his chest. He would not sink his face and head in that filthy water.

Bora stayed in the stream until numbness blunted the water's teeth. By then the crowd was silent as the mist in the demons' valley. He stayed a trifle longer, until he began to lose feeling in his toes and fingers. Then he turned toward the bank.

He needed help to climb out, but enough villagers rushed forward to help a dozen men. Others had brought towels. They surrounded him, to chafe and rub until his skin turned from blue to pink and his teeth stopped chattering.

Caraya came, with a steaming posset cup and a look he had seldom seen on her face. Her tongue was no more gentle than usual, however. "Bora, that was a foolish thing to do! What would have become of us if the demons took you?"

"I didn't think there were any demons. But I could hardly ask anyone to believe me, unless I proved it. If I hadn't—what would have become of you if they thought I'd brought the demons and stoned me to death!"

"They wouldn't dare!" If her eyes had been bows, half the crowd would have dropped dead with arrows in them.

"Caraya, men in fear will dare anything, if it lets them strike back at that fear." It was one of Ivram's pieces of wisdom. Now seemed a good time to bring it forth.

Another charitable soul brought a bucket of hot water and a sponge. Bora sponged himself into a semblance of cleanliness, then pulled on his clothes. The crowd still surrounded him, many gaping as if he were a god come to earth.

Anger sharpened his voice.

"Is there no work that needs doing? If nothing else, we must bring water from Winterhome if our wells cannot give enough. Doubtless they will share if we ask. Not if we stand about gaping until the birds build nests in our mouths!"

Bora half-feared that he had finally said too much. Who was he, at sixteen, to order men old enough to be his grandfather?

Instead he saw nods, and heard men offering to walk to the other village with a message. He refused to decide who should go. He took one of the towels, dipped it into the stream, then wrung it out and tied it around his left arm.

"I will take this to Ivram," he shouted, raising the arm. "The demons were too weak to harm me, so there is little to fear. There may be much to learn, and Ivram will know how to learn it."

Bora hoped that was true. The priest was said to know many odd bits of arcane lore, without being truly a sorcerer. Even so, Ivram might not be able to answer the most urgent question.

How close were the demons? To send men out to seek them would be murder. To wait and let them come at a time of their own choosing would be folly. What else could be done? Bora did not know, but Ivram could at least help him hide this ignorance.

Also, Ivram and Maryam were the two people in the whole village to whom Bora could admit that he was frightened.

By mid-afternoon Conan judged it safe to leave the hills and press on to the next town. He would have felt safer pressing all the way to the garrison at Fort Zheman, but that would have meant riding by night.

Also, Dessa and Massouf were near the end of their strength.

"They might go farther if they hadn't spent so much time quarreling," Conan told Raihna. "I won't turn that young lady over my knee, but I'll pray Massouf does and soon. For all our sakes, not just his!"

"I much doubt he'll find it in himself to do that," Raihna said. "He sounds like a man who isn't quite sure now he wanted his dream to come true."

"If he doesn't know what he wants, then he and Dessa will be well-matched," Conan growled. "I'll even pay for their wedding, if they have no kin left. Anything , just so we don't have to carry those witlings into the mountains!"

Unmoved by Conan's opinion, the reunited lovers were still quarreling when the party rode into Haruk. They fell silent while Conan found rooms at an inn with stout walls, a back door, and good wine. Then their quarreling began again, when Illyana announced thatlthey would share a room to themselves.

"I won't!" Dessa said simply.

"I won't touch you, Dessa," Massouf said. He sounded genuinely contrite. "Don't be afraid."

"Afraid! Of you ? A real man I'd fear, but—"

Glares from Illyana, Raihna, and Conan silenced her, but not soon enough. An angry flush crept up into Massouf's face and his voice shook as he spoke.

"I'm not man enough for you? What are you, Dessa? Did you find a trull's heart in—"

The slap Dessa aimed would have floored Massouf if Conan hadn't stepped between them. He held one hand over Dessa's mouth while he opened the door of her room with the other. Then he shifted his grip, to the collar and hem of her borrowed tunic, swung her back and forth a few times, and tossed her neatly on to the bed.

"Now, Massouf," Conan said with elaborate courtesy. "Would it be your pleasure to walk into the room? Or would you prefer to imitate a bird?"

Massouf cursed but walked. Conan kicked the couple's baggage in after them, then pulled the door shut and bolted it from the outside.

"Here," Illyana said. She held out a cup of wine. Conan emptied it without taking it from his lips.

"Bless you," he said, wiping his mouth. He stopped short of adding that she knew well what a man might need. Such jests clearly reached some old, deep wound. If he could give her no good memories, he could at least not prod the scabs and scars.

"I don't know if they'll have a peaceful night," Raihna said. "But I intend to." She put an arm around Conan's waist.

"If it's peace you want, Raihna, you may have to wait a while for it."

"Oh, I hope so. A long, long while." Her attempt to imitate a worshipful young girl was so ludicrous that even Illyana burst out laughing.

"If you're that hot, woman," Conan said, "then let's see what this inn has for dinner. Man or horse, you don't ride them far on an empty stomach!"

Eleven

SOMEWHERE NEARBY A woman was screaming. Pleasantly entangled with Raihna, Conan was slow to spare the woman a single thought. Even then, his thought was that Dessa and Massouf had finally come to blows. Dessa, in Conan's opinion, could well take care of herself without help from people who had more important matters at hand—

The screams grew louder. Raihna stiffened, but not in passion. She stared at the door.