Conan the Fearless Part 8

Left behind was the demon's right hand, which twitched fitfully upon the cobblestones near Conan, as if still trying to reach the one responsible for its destruction.

Vitarius came to stand next to Conan, to stare down at the demon's hand. For a time neither man spoke. It fell to Conan, finally, to break the silence. "I think your explanation about being a simple conjurer is somewhat flawed, Vitarius. No small spell called that thing, nor did any illusion drive it away."

"True enough," the old man answered, looking tired. "An explanation is owed you, and I shall provide it. Were it not for you, Eldia would have been taken by Sovartus's enthralled one and the consequences of that do not bear contemplation."

"I await your tale."

"Aye, you shall have it. As you have surmised, Eldia and I are not precisely what we pretended upon our meeting in the Milk of Wolves inn.

I-" The old man stopped and jerked his head around. Save for Conan and himself, the road and stalls were empty. "Eldia! She is gone!"

Conan spun in a quick circle, looking for the girl. She was not to be seen. "The demon-" he began.

"No. He left alone! We must find her, Conan! If she is taken to Sovartus, she is doomed, as likely are many more. I swear to explain all this fully, but we must first retrieve the girl. You must trust me."

After the briefest of pauses, Conan nodded. He had no reason to believe Vitarius, since it was obvious the man had lied to him before: still, Conan was a man of action and so trusted his instincts more than his reason. No evil stench lurked about Vitarius and Eldia, and the demon would likely have killed him without their help. Conan retrieved his sword and waved it to point down the street. "I will take this direction; you go that way."

Vitarius nodded, and Conan loped off. He glanced back to see the old man pause long enough to collect the demon's hand and drop it into his belt pouch.

The bedchamber of Djuvula the Witch exploded into a cloud of bruised purple and yellow, leaving Djavul amid the smoke, clutching at the stump of his right arm with his remaining hand. The door to the chamber opened and the witch rushed in, alarmed by the sudden intrusion into her sanctum. "Demon-brother! What has happened?"

Djavul cursed with the power of h.e.l.l in his words. On the witch's bed the dark form of the unanimated simulacrum tossed from the force of those curses. Then the wounded demon said, "My hand!"

Djuvula seemed to relax somewhat. "Brother mine, why fret over such a thing? Another will grow to replace it-"

"Fool woman! It is not the hand, but the way in which it was lost! I am bound to Sovartus, a Mage of the Black Square-"

Djuvula sucked in a quick breath, startled.

"So, you know of this one," Djavul said, staring at his sister.

"Aye. A man of no small power, he."

"As I am in his thrall, I am well aware of that, flesh of my d.a.m.ned father. And I have failed in my attempt to do his bidding. That which I sought was guarded by a man of supernatural abilities. Instead of my taking his charge, he took my hand!"

"What would you have me do, brother-mine?"

"I must return to report my . . . difficulty to Sovartus. He will not be pleased. It would behoove me to be able to indicate I have some a.s.sistance forthcoming, perhaps even another plan for obtaining that which he seeks."

"We are blood-tied," Djuvula said, "and naturally I will aid you as I can."

"Good. Sovartus wishes to collect a girl-child known as Eldia-she is one of the Four, as you will know when you behold her. He already has the other Three. This one travels in the company of one of the White Magicians, possibly of the White Square, though I could not be certain.

And there is a large man of origin unknown to me with them. 'Twas he who cost me this." Djavul waved the handless stump. Already the wound had sealed itself into a smooth black gla.s.slike stub.

Djuvula nodded, but the implications of what her demon brother had just spoken were not lost upon her. If Sovartus managed to hold sway over all of the Four children imbued with the power of the Four Ways, he would be the paramount force in magic upon Earth. If she could somehow strike a bargain with Sovartus for delivery of the remaining portion of his magical spell-this girl, Eldia-she could bask in some of his thus-earned power. And the man who separated Djavul from his hand, well, he sounded very much like a candidate for a spell of her own. She looked at the somnambulant form of her simulacrum, her Prince of the Lance.

She considered these things in a few heartbeats and then smiled at Djavul. "I will help you capture this child," she said. "Tell me, where did you leave her?"

Loganaro crouched under the cover of a fallen awning and watched the muscular barbarian run down the nearly empty street. The agent had arrived in the vicinity just in time to see the finish of Vitarius's performance. More than ever, Loganaro was convinced that Conan was the man for animating Djuvula's dream-lover. Certainly, this barbarian from far Cimmeria would be worth admittance to the witch's bed, if Senator Lemparius held him. Capturing him might be less than easily accomplished, however. It could be an expensive undertaking, Loganaro thought, and some of the coin needed would certainly find its way to his pouch.

The barbarian was too fast for him to follow, especially without cover to shield him from a casual backward glance, so Loganaro decided to append himself to the old magician instead. He felt certain that Conan would return to the white-haired one before long.

The sound of Conan's boots was loud upon the rough cobblestones of the street. It was growing darker as evening stole upon the scene, casting her nightly net. Conan's sharp blue eyes sent his penetrating gaze down each alley he pa.s.sed, covering such pa.s.sages from top to bottom with a single glance. Eldia was not to be seen.

As he ran past yet another of the building-bounded paths filled with the detritus of city life, Conan blinked and skidded to a halt. He raked the alley with a second look. Nothing moved in that dark rectangle; of that he was certain. Here stood a mound of trash-rags, sc.r.a.ps of animal skins, broken pottery-there, a stack of firewood. He beheld an alley like a dozen others he had pa.s.sed in his run, and yet something within struck him as different. Some small thing intruded upon his senses, untouchable and yet somehow wrong.

There! A tiny flash of whiteness against the dark backdrop of the woodpile! Instantly, Conan knew it for the eye of a man, reflecting the now-risen moon's soft glow. He drew his sword and moved into the alley, the point of the heavy blade held aimed at the darkness-hidden bearer of the eyes he had seen.

As the barbarian's own sharp vision adjusted to the greater darkness of the alley, he made out a form squatting next to a pile of split kindling. The form arose and there shone the glint of moonlight upon steel as a short blade came up to point at Conan.

"Wait!" came a girlish voice. Eldia. "It is Conan, a friend. "

The form grew yet clearer in Conan's sight: a woman, her body nearly covering that of Eldia, standing behind her. The woman held her knife-a wavy-bladed dagger-aimed at the approaching man.

"Eldia, come forth into the light," Conan called.

"No," a woman's voice replied. This voice had the sound of honey upon steel, smooth and yet backed by hardness.

Conan stood motionless for a moment, then decided there was no danger here for him. He sheathed his blade and held his hands out to show their emptiness.

The woman took a step forward and the pale moonlight caressed her gently. She was perhaps eighteen, Conan judged, with jet-black hair that hung unbound to her waist. Her form was covered by a silken shirt and thin leather breeches, and upon her feet she wore thonged sandals of a fine cut. The body covered by these items was of a cut much finer than the sandals. The woman was lush of hip and leg, and beneath the thin blue silk of her shirt her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were full and heavy. There was something about her face, which was in itself flawlessly detailed, that seemed familiar to Conan. He knew he would hardly forget such a lovely woman had he seen her before, yet he was certain he knew that face . .

Eldia moved into view, and Conan knew where he had seen the raven-haired beauty before: she was Eldia grown up into full womanhood.

The woman was too young to be Eldia's mother, so she must be-

"You are her sister," Conan said, voicing his thought as it came to him.

"Aye," the woman said. "And come to reclaim her from the villains who took her from our home."

Conan shrugged, his ma.s.sive shoulders rising easily as he found it within himself to grin at the woman. "I took no one anywhere," he said.

"And it seems to me Eldia travels with Vitarius of her own accord."

The woman glanced toward the mouth of the alley, then back at Conan.

She raised the dagger a bit higher, clutching it tightly. Conan could see her knuckles whiten upon the haft of the weapon. "She was dragged screaming into the night," the woman said. "My father was slain, as was my mother. Before my mother died, she told me that Eldia was special, that she had brothers and a sister-my half-brothers and sister-of whom she had never told us. That whatever I did, I must find Eldia and hide her from those evil ones who desire her for their own wicked purposes."

Conan glanced at Eldia, who seemed content to allow her sister to speak. "And is Vitarius one of those evil ones?"

Eldia shook her head. "N-no, but-"

"It is all right, Eldia," her sister said. "You do not have to explain anything to this-this-barbarian."

"Someone is going to have to explain it," Conan said evenly. "I am tired of being made the fool in whatever games Vitarius and you two have mounted. We shall go back to this 'conjurer' and hear this tale outlined in its fullness."

"No," the woman said. "We are going home!"

"After I am satisfied with explanations of why I was attacked by a demon in a public square," Conan said, the anger rising in his voice.

"Now," Eldia's sister said, pushing the knife toward Conan. "Now, or I'll spit you and leave your carca.s.s for the rats."