Conan The Valiant Part 40

Eremius might be easier to persuade than the normal run of sorcerers.

Then he kissed Caraya, forcing himself not to take her in his arms.

With eyes stinging from more than the dawn breeze, he rose and turned his face toward the mountains.

It took the rest of the night to put the camp in order, count the dead, care for the wounded, and scout the surrounding hills. Only when all the scouts brought back the same report, of a land empty of demons if not of their traces, did Khezal call his council of war.

"I'd say we won a victory, if we hadn't lost three to their one," he said. "Perhaps they carried off more dead and hurt, perhaps not. Also, I'd wager that was a retreat ordered by whoever gives those monsters orders, not being driven off."

"You see clearly, Captain," Illyana said. She was paler than Conan cared to see, and from time to time a spasm would shake her body. Her voice was steady as she continued. "The orders were given, because of the fight we gave the Transformed. Had the full powers of our enemy been unleashed, we could not have done so well."

"Then we have you to thank for a fair number of lives, if you set bounds on the master of the Transformed."

Illyana shuddered. "Forgive me, Captain, but I cannot accept that praise. I did what I could, and I know I had some effect. Yet I could not use all the strength of my Jewel. We owe our lives in great part to the fact that neither could Eremius."

Khezal looked at the ground as if he expected monsters to erupt from it at any moment. Then he stared hard at Illyana. "I feel I am being told other than the truth. That is not well done."

"There are matters you and your soldiers could not understand without-"

Raihna began. Conan laid a hand heavily upon her shoulder and Khezal glared. Between them she fell silent.

"Captain, I do not know as much as I might in a day or two," Illyana said. "When I know it, or learn that I shall not know it, then will be the time for us to speak frankly. I shall hold nothing back. By the Seven Shrines and the bones of Pulaq I swear it."

"A cursed lot of good your hesitation will do us if the Transformed attack again!"

"They will not, if we return to Fort Zheman."

"Retreat with our tails between our legs! Who's the captain here, Lady Illyana? I don't remember seeing your commission from King Yildiz-"

"You may remember seeing one from a certain Lord Mishrak," Conan growled. "Or did some buffet on the head last night take your memory?"

The silence gave Conan time to reach for his sword, time to fear he might need to draw it. Then all Khezal's breath left him in a gusty sigh.

"Don't tell anyone, but I've been thinking of returning to the Fort also. There are too cursed many villagers to guard in the open field.

Behind walls, at least those monsters will have to climb to come at us!"

Eighteen --------.

THE TOWER OF Fort Zheman had thrust itself above the horizon, when Bora rode up on Windmaster.

Raihna patted the gray's neck. "A fine steed. I am glad he is in fettle again. Also, that he still has a master worthy of him."

All were silent for a moment. Kemal had survived the battle, but with wounds that took his life before dawn. He had some measure of good fortune; he was senseless and felt no pain.

"Thank you, Raihna," Bora said. "But I did not ride up here to seek praise for Windmaster. I seek Yakoub. He seems to have vanished."

Conan and Raihna exchanged looks that did not include Illyana. This was no matter for her, they had both agreed. Moreover, she was in the saddle at all by sheer force of will. The less she was troubled without cause, the better. "I thought you did not much care for him," Conan said.

"I did not and I do not," Bora replied. "My sister Caraya thinks otherwise."

"You're the head of the family, until your father is freed," Conan said. "I thought that gave you the right to say yea or nay to anyone's courting your sister."

Bora laughed harshly. "You do not know Caraya. She can smite as heavily with her tongue as Mistress Raihna can with her blades." He frowned.

"Also, Yakoub has labored to secure my father's release. He has not yet succeeded, but who knows if this is his fault?"

"You have a great sense of justice in you, Bora," Raihna said. "The G.o.ds love such."

"Best pray the G.o.ds keep you alive long enough to practice that justice," Conan said. "And spare a prayer or two for Yakoub as well. He may have left the villagers once the demon master's scouts were driven off, hoping to join the soldiers. If he met some of those scouts on the road-well, I am sure the scouts are fewer, but I'd not wager on your sister marrying Yakoub."

"Yes, and that means you do not ride about alone, either," Raihna said.

"We have some cheese and bread, if you have not eaten."

Bora devoured half a cheese, then took his place in the column behind Raihna. Conan mused on the mystery of Yakoub. Could he really be what his face hinted, Khadjar's b.a.s.t.a.r.d son? If so, one mystery lay behind his being alive, another behind what he was doing. Best if honest folk like Bora and Caraya kept well clear of either mystery, particularly with a father already arrested as a suspected rebel.

Best also to say nothing of that to Bora. And best of all for Conan not to think too much on the matter himself. If the mystery was deep enough for High Captain Khadjar to be part of it-

Very surely, best to think of other matters, such as how to make some of the Powder of Zayan and how to contrive a night with Raihna.

Again Yakoub lowered himself down a small cliff. This time he landed silently, on firm ground, behind those he sought. He also left his knife and sword sheathed and held out his empty hands.

"Hssst! Servants of the master."

Had he stabbed them, the two scouts could not have whirled faster. Both drew their swords, but did not advance. Instead they stood in silence, gape-jawed and dull-eyed.

The silence went on so long that Yakoub half-expected to see the sun touching the western horizon. At last one of the men spoke. His words were slurred and indistinct, as though he spoke with a mouthful of nutmeats.

"We serve the master. You do not."

"I wish to serve him."

This brought on another long silence. Yakoub began to consider whether decent fighting men could be made out of such dullards. Perhaps they were only tired, or some had more wits than others?

"Show us a sign," one said at last.

What they would take as a sign, Yakoub could only guess. It hardly mattered, as he had only one thing that might serve. He opened the secret pouch in his belt and held out the ring with his father's seal.

The scout who had spoken took the ring, with such fumbling hands that Yakoub half-expected him to drop it. At last he returned it to Yakoub.

"We do not know this sign."

"Your master will know it."

"Our master is not here."

"Is there some reason I cannot go to him?"

"We would have to lead you."

"Is that forbidden?" Yakoub knew that to shout at these wretches would gain little and might lose much. He still felt his patience being rubbed thin.