Conan the Victorious Part 14

"I expect this is as good a spot to camp as any," Conan said, dismounting. "Baltis, if you can find something to burn, we can make a good meal on roast hare before sleeping. I could wish we had saved some wine from the ship."

"He is mad," Prytanis announced to the ebon sky. "He gives a name that will bring men after us with blades in their fists, then wishes he had some wine to go with the hare."

"As much as I hate to agree with Prytanis," Hordo rumbled, "he is right this time. If you had to give a name other than your own-though, by Mitra's bones, I cannot see why-could you not have chosen another than that?"

"The Cimmerian is wily," Baltis laughed. "When you hunt rats, you set out cheese. This is cheese our Vendhyan rats cannot fail to sniff."

Conan nodded. "He has the right of it, Hordo. There must be more than a thousand people in that caravan. Now I do not have to search for the men I seek. They will search me out instead."

"And if they search you out with a dagger in the back? Or a few score swordsmen falling on us in the night?" The one-eyed man threw up his hands in exasperation.

"You still do not see," Conan said. "They will want to know who I am, and what I do here, especially using Patil's name. Think of the pains to which they have gone to keep those chests secret. What do I know, and who have I told? They can learn nothing if I am dead."

"You begin to sound as devious as a Stygian," Hordo muttered into his beard.

"For myself," Ghurran said, lowering himself unsteadily to the ground, "I do not care at this moment if Bhandarkar's Lion Guard descends on us." He knuckled the small of his back and stretched, grunting. "After I find myself on the outside of one of those hares, I may feel different, but not now."

"Well?" Conan said, eying the others. "Even if the first man Torio speaks to is one of those I seek, you still have time to be away before they get here."

One by one they got down, Prytanis last of all, and he still muttering.

By the time the horses were relieved of their saddles and hobbled, Baltis had a fire going, and Enam and Shamil were skinning and spitting hares. Water, Conan discovered, went very well with roast hare when nothing else was available.

The fire burned low, clean-picked bones were tossed aside, and silence replaced the talk that had prevailed while they ate. Conan offered to take the first watch, but no one seemed to have any interest in wrapping himself in his blankets. One by one all but Conan and Ghurran took out oil and stone to tend their blades. Each tried to act as though this had nothing to do with any possible attack but every man turned his back to the dying fire as he worked. There would be less adjustment for the eyes to the dark that way.

Ghurran fussed about his leather sack, at last thrusting the too-familiar pewter goblet at the big Cimmerian. A antic.i.p.atory grimace formed on Conan's face as he took it. As he steeled himself to drink, a clatter of hooves sounded in the night. He leaped to his feet, slopping some of the foul-tasting potion over the rim of the cup, and his free hand went to his sword.

"I thought you were sure there would be no attack," Hordo said, holding his own blade at the ready. Every man around the fire was on his feet, even Ghurran, who twisted his head about as though looking for a place to hide.

"If I was always right," Conan said, "I should be the wealthiest man in Zamora instead of being here." Someone-he was not sure who-sighed painfully.

Seven horses halted well beyond the firelight, and three of the riders dismounted and came forward. Two of them stopped at the very edge of the darkness while the third approached the fire. Dark eyes, seeming tilted because of an epicanthic fold, surveyed the smugglers from a bony, saffron-skinned face.

"I hope that your swords are not for me," the man said in fluent, if overly melodious Hyrkanian as he tucked his hands into the broad sleeves of a pale-blue velvet tunic embroidered on the chest with a heron. A round cap of red silk topped with a gold b.u.t.ton sat on his shaven head. "I am but a humble merchant of Khitai, intending harm to no man."

"They are not for you," Conan said, motioning the others to put up their weapons. "It is just that a man must be on guard when strangers approach in the night."

"A wise precaution," the Khitan agreed. "I am Kang Hou, and I seek one called Patil."

"I am called Patil," Conan said.

The merchant arched a thin eyebrow. "A strange name for a chengli. Your pardon. It means simply a person with pale skin, one from the lands of the distant west. Such men are considered mythical by many in my land."

"I am no myth," Conan snorted. "And the name suffices me."

"As you say," Kang Hou said blandly. He gave no signal that Conan could see, but the other two figures came forward. "My nieces," the merchant said, "Chin Kou and Kuie Hsi. They accompany me everywhere, caring for an aging man in his dotage."

Conan found himself gaping at two of the most exquisite women he had ever seen. They had oval faces and delicate features that could have been carved by a master striving to show the beauty of Eastern women.

Neither looked at all like their uncle, for which the Cimmerian was grateful. Chin Kou seemed a flower fashioned of aged ivory, with downcast almond eyes and a shy smile. Kuie Hsi's dark eyes were lowered, too, but she watched with a twinkle through her lashes, and her skin was like sandalwood-hued satin.

He was not the only one struck by the women, Conan realized. Baltis and Enam appeared to be mentally stripping them of their silken robes, while Prytanis all but drooled with l.u.s.t. Hasan and Shamil merely stared as if hit in the head. Even Hordo had a gleam in his eye that spoke of calculation as to how to separate one or both of the women from the company of their uncle. As usual, only Ghurran seemed unaffected.

"You are welcome here," the Cimmerian said loudly. "You and your nieces both. The man who offends any of you offends me." That got everyone's attention, he noted with approval, and dimmed a few amatory fires by the sour looks he saw on their faces.

"I am honored by your welcome," the merchant said, making a small bow.

Conan returned the bow and smothered a curse as he spilled more of the potion over his hand. Emptying the goblet in one long gulp, he tossed the cup to Ghurran, not quite hurling it at his head. "Filthy stuff,"

he spat.

"Men doubt the efficacy of medicine without a vile taste," Ghurran said, and Kang Hou turned his expressionless gaze on the herbalist.

"That is an old Khitan proverb. You have journeyed to my land?" Ghurran shook his head.

"No. I had it from the man who taught me herbs. Perhaps he went there, though he never spoke of it to me. Do you know much of herbs? I am always interested in discovering plants new to me, and the uses of them."

"Regrettably, I do not," the merchant replied. "And now, Patil, if I may rush matters unconscionably, I would speak of business."

"Speak of what you will," Conan said when he realized the other man was going to await permission.

"I thank you. I am a poor merchant, a dealer in whatever I can. On this trip, velvets from Corinthia, carpets from Iranistan, and tapestries from Turan. I joined the caravan but two days ago and would not have done so save for necessity. The captain of the vessel that brought me across the Vilayet Sea, a rogue called Valash, had promised to provide ten men as guards. After putting my goods and my animals ash.o.r.e, however, he refused to honor his agreement. My nieces and I thus must try to tend half a score of camels with only the aid of three servants who, I fear, are of no use at all as protection against brigands."

"I know of Valash," Hordo said, spitting after the name. " 'Tis Hanuman's own luck he did not slit your throat and sell your goods-and your nieces-in Khawarism."

"He attempted no such," the Khitan said. "I was not aware that you were men of the sea."

"We have all been many things in our time," Conan replied. "At the moment we are men with swords who might be hired as guards if enough coin is offered."

Kang Hou tilted his head as though considering. "I think," he said at last, "that two silver coins for each man would be equitable. And a gold coin each if I and my goods reach Ayodhya in safety."

Conan exchanged a look with Hordo, then said, "Done."

"Very good. Until you are ready to ride to the caravan, I will wait with the guards Captain Torio was good enough to lend me. Come, nieces."

As soon as the Khitans were gone, Baltis let out a low laugh. "A gold and two silvers to make a journey we were making for free. The Khitan must have a king's wealth to pay so. There's luck in you, Cimmerian.

Take that sour look off your face, Prytanis."

"That," Hasan announced, "was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

"Kuie Hsi?" Shamil said jealously.

"The other. Chin Kou."

"That is all we need," Hordo grumbled as he began rolling his blankets, "for those two to lose their heads over this Khitan's nieces. You realize he was lying, do you not? Unless there are two men called Valash captaining ships on the Vilayet, he never got those wenches off that vessel as easily as he makes out."

"I know," Conan said. "I did not hear you refusing him because of it though." The one-eyed man muttered something. "What, Hordo?"

"I said, at least this time you've not gotten us involved with a wizard. You have a bad habit of making wizards annoyed with you."

Shouldering his saddle, Conan laughed. "This time I will not come within a league of a wizard."