Conan the Relentless Part 24

"The customs of the Pougoi have always been held in honor by me and my kin," the princess said as if speaking to the whole court. "Therefore it is only fit and proper that my son be proclaimed a nurse-brother of the Pougoi. He shall have the rights of any Pougoi male child of his age, and he shall a.s.sume his lawful duties when he is of age."

The servant appeared to be ready to fall down in a fit, and for a moment Aybas grew fearful. Then he realized that she was only trying to hold in wild laughter. The idea of a royal princess claiming to honor the hill tribes was too much for her.

"Mistress-ah?"

"Myssa," the woman said as she realized that Aybas was addressing her.

"I bear witness to this oath. I will stand, speak, and shed blood to uphold it."

Aybas wondered whose blood she was swearing to shed but decided that his ignorance was best not revealed. He had not inquired too closely into the customs of the Pougoi after he had learned of the one that might save Prince Urras.

"Very well," Aybas said. "I swear to lay this matter before the lawful men of the tribe, for hearing this oath according to custom. I also swear to regard Prince Urras as a nurse-brother of the Pougoi from this moment forth."

That could prove an unfortunate promise should a direct command concerning the prince come from Count Syzambry. Aybas, however, had little fear of such a command being issued at any time soon. He had overheard enough about the count's wound to doubt that the man would be ordering more than an empty chamberpot for some while. The man might even die.

Then it would be well for Aybas if he had Chienna's goodwill. Count Syzambry would have merely cast the realm into chaos rather than usurping its throne, and an exile who wished to survive that chaos could not have too many powerful friends.

With some of his most courtly phrases, Aybas bowed himself out. It was full dark now, and he stumbled twice before his night sight returned.

The dream did not return, however. This was a blessing Aybas had not expected. Perhaps he had found favor in the G.o.ds' sight?

Perhaps. But the Star Brothers were closer than the G.o.ds, and they would need much more persuasion than Chienna. As he ascended the village street toward his hut, Aybas began to rehea.r.s.e in his mind a speech to the wizards.

He was so caught up in it that he stumbled twice again. He also pa.s.sed Wylla as if she were invisible, and he did not hear a single peal of the witch-thunder that rolled across the sky as he reached his hut.

Conan marched his men and Raihna's hard for the next two days. He turned a blind eye to the Guards who slipped off during each night, and sometimes by day, when forest or rough ground hid them swiftly.

Raihna fretted both at the deserters and at Conan's apparent complaisance. "If this continues, we will have none but a handful of veterans in ten days."

"We will still have your men."

"Of course." But she was near to biting her lips as she said it. Conan would not press her, since the truth would be out sooner rather than later if their roaming the hills continued.

"We've no place to go until we know if the king and Decius won free of the palace," Conan said. "The men understand that. They also know that if Syzambry wins, anyone still mustered as a Guard will have a short life and a long death. A man who has drifted homeward to get in a crop and be a peaceful farmer-he may save his kin, if not himself."

The Cimmerian did not add that Raihna should have known this herself.

The daughter of a Bossonian yeoman (at best) must have lived all her girlhood knowing that an extra pair of hands at the harvesting could mean life or death for a family through the winter.

After a moment, Raihna knew what Conan had not told her. She blinked, then rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Forgive me, Conan. I fear that I am too ashamed of how I have misled my men to have all my wits."

"Well, chase them down and bring them back," he said, slapping her on the rump. "You muster a pretty fair strength of them when they're all present."

Conan did not look the other way when some of the Guards talked openly of looting villages and farms.

"There'll be none of that, for three reasons. One is that we want the villagers' friendship. Or at least we don't want them running to Syzambry with tales of our whereabouts. The second is that we can sc.r.a.pe by with game, fish, and berries for a while longer."

"Long enough to find the king?" someone asked, from safely back in the ranks.

"The king or his grave," Conan said. "As long as King Eloikas lives, our oath as Guards binds us to his service. If he's dead, our oath binds us to rescue his heir and put him on the throne."

The silence that last vow produced was so complete that a snapping twig sounded like a falling tree. Conan rested a sooty hand on the hilt of his broadsword.

"The third reason for leaving the villagers in peace is that anyone who doesn't answers to me, and to my friend here." The sword leaped from its scabbard, flashed in the sunlight, and returned to rest in a single fluid motion.

The band resumed its march in a more sober mood. Even Raihna seemed to have been affected by the Cimmerian's words when she dropped back to walk with him in the rear guard.

"Will you really-?" she began.

"Hsst!" He put a finger to her lips, and they slowed their pace until the last of the rear guard was beyond hearing.

"Why not, by Crom? If Eloikas is dead, the babe is king of the Border Kingdom. He deserves a better court than the Pougoi. If Eloikas isn't dead, Syzambry still has a hold over him as long as the princess and babe are in the hands of the wizards."

Conan did not add that he would have risked his life to s.n.a.t.c.h a scullery maid or a spitboy from the hands of the Pougoi wizards. Being in their toils seemed something an honest man shouldn't wish on his worst enemy.

"And if Syzambry's dead?"

Conan jerked his head, dismissing that rumor.

"But if he is alive, wouldn't his men be scouring the countryside for us?"

"We don't know how many men he has left," Conan said. "Besides, I hate to speak well of that misbegotten son of a Kus.h.i.te camel thief, but he'll be a hard man to kill."

Raihna grimaced. "You're full of cheery counsel this-"

The reproof died on her lips. Faint and far, but beyond mistaking, they heard it.

The pipes.

Conan's hand went to his sword again. He did not draw. He took a deep breath instead, then let it out with the curses in his mind unuttered.

But they echoed within his skull as loudly as they could ever have echoed from the hills.

"Show yourself, you whistling jester. Show yourself, you goat's-kin.

Show yourself, and show your true colors if you bear any!"

The Star Brother Forkbeard stared at Aybas. The wizard's face held every emotion that Aybas had ever seen on a human countenance... save one: it showed no surprise.

Aybas did not pray. Prayers to lawful G.o.ds seemed themselves unlawful in this damp grotto, with the smell of the beast hanging heavy in the air. He only commanded his stomach firmly not to disgrace him.

If Aybas had doubted before that the wizards ate flesh from their star-beast, he doubted it no longer. What he had seen in the shadowy corners of the grotto and what he smelled with every breath he took could not be explained in any other way.

Aybas's throat contracted and his stomach twitched. The G.o.ds showed some mercy, even if unasked. Forkbeard was looking down at the rough-hewn oak table before him and saw nothing of Aybas's struggle for self-command.

When the wizard looked again at the Aquilonian, he looked with a face twisted by fury and frustration. His hands slapped the table, making a bronze bowl topple over and roll until it clanged on the floor. It rolled again until it reached Aybas's foot. The Aquilonian forced himself not to flinch when the bowl touched his skin.

"Aybas," the wizard said. No "lord," and the name itself sounded like a curse.