by Roland Green
"Conan, did I once hear you say you preferred to embrace me unclothed?"
The Cimmerian laughed. "When there's a bed ready to hand, yes."
"Then let us spend some of Mishrak's gold on that bed!"
They spent all of two nights and much of the day between in that bed, and little of that time sleeping. It was still no great surprise to Conan when he awoke at dawn after the second night, to find the bed empty.
It was some days before Conan had time to think of Raihna or indeed any woman. There was gold to be sent to Bora, Dessa, Pyla, Rhafi, and a half-score of others. There was a new sword to be ordered. There was a good deal of laziness to be purged from his company, although the sergeants had done their best.
When all this was in train, he had time to wonder where Raihna might have gone. He also had time to consider what might have become of High Captain Khadjar. In the time Conan had known the man, Khadjar never let more than three days pass without a visit to his men. Now it was close to six days. Was there a way to ask, without betraying the secrets of his journey into the mountains?
Conan had found no answer by the morning of the eighth day. He was at the head of his company as they returned from an all-night ride, when a caravan trotted past. Through the dust, Conan saw a familiar face under a headdress, bringing up the rear of the caravan.
"Raihna!"
"Conan!" She turned her horse to meet him. Conan slowed his men to a walk, then reined in.
"So you're a caravan guard in truth. Where bound?"
"Aquilonia. I still cannot return home to Bossonia, until there is a price paid in blood or gold. But in Aquilonia, I might earn some of that gold, selling my sword. Also, Illyana's father has kin among the nobility of that realm. Some might feel that Illyana's friend for ten years had some claim on them."
"You'll still need luck."
"Who knows that better than I? If I don't have it, perhaps I can still find a home in Aquilonia. Some widowed merchant must be in need of a wife."
"You? A merchant's wife?" Conan tried to keep his laughter within the bounds of manners. "I won't say that's as against nature as Dessa's being faithful, but—"
"I've had ten years on the road with Illyana, and more of them good than bad. Now—well, I find I want to know where my bones will lie, when it comes time to shed them."
"That's a desire that never troubled me," Conan said. "But the gods know, you deserve it if you want it. A swift and safe journey, and—"
"Oh, Conan!" She slapped her forehead, already caked with road dust. "The sun must have already addled my wits. Have you heard about Houma and Khadjar?"
Conan's horse nearly reared as his grip on the reins tightened. "What—what about them?"
"Houma is no longer one of the Seventeen Attendants. He has resigned because of ill-health and given large donations to the temples."
"Large enough that he'll have to sell some of his estates, I'd wager."
"I don't know. I only heard what the criers said in the streets this morning. But it would surely make sense, to cut the sinews of Houma's son as well as Houma."
Conan thought that Houma's son would need cutting in other and more vital places before he was worth anything. But his company was almost past, and he had yet to hear about Khadjar.
Raihna read the question in his eyes. "This I only heard in the soldiers' taverns, but all were saying the same thing. Khadjar has been promoted to Great Captain of Horse and goes to Aquilonia, to see how they fight upon the Pictish frontier. Some of the soldiers were angry, that the Aquilonians or any other northerners can teach the riders of Turan anything."
"I'd not wager either way." Conan also would not wager either way about the truth of the rumor. Khadjar might have been sent to Aquilonia, but would he reach it alive? If he did, would he survive learning how to fight Picts?
Still, it counted for something that Mishrak wanted men to think Khadjar had been honored and sent on a mission of trust. Perhaps Khadjar really had gone to Aquilonia—while Mishrak carefully removed all of his and Houma's allies from power, if not from the world. Perhaps promotion would keep Khadjar loyal hereafter, so that his gifts need not be lost to Turan.
Nothing certain anywhere, but that was no surprise. The world seldom was, at the best of times.
No, one thing was certain.
"Raihna, a bed doesn't feel quite the same without you in it."
"How long do you expect that to last, Cimmerian?"
"Oh, as much as another ten days—"
She aimed a mock-buffet at his head, then bent from her saddle and kissed him with no mockery at all.
"Whatever you seek, may you find it," she said. She put spurs to her mount and whirled away up the road toward her caravan.
Conan sat until Raihna was altogether out of sight. Then he turned his own mount's head the other way and spurred it to a canter. It would never do for the new High Captain of mercenaries to think that Conan the Cimmerian would neglect his men as soon as Khadjar's eye was no longer upon him!
_____________________________
CONAN THE VALIANT
by
Roland Green
TOR
A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK NEW YORK
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
CONAN THE VALIANT
Copyright © 1988 by Conan Properties, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.
A TOR Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, Inc.
49 West 24 Street
New York, NY 10010
Cover art by Ken Kelly
ISBN: 0-812- 50082-2 Can. ISBN: 0-812-50083-0
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 88-50472
First edition: October 1988
First mass market edition: August 1989
Printed in the United States of America 0987654321
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Document creation date: 26.6.2013
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