Behind it stood Lamici, the chief eunuch, in silk robes. "I apologize for this intrusion, Kailash," he said softly. His voice was trembling slightly, and he looked somewhat rumpled, as if he had just been roused from his slumber. "One of the guards was saying that Valtresca had been slain, after revealing himself to be a traitor!"
"Yes," said Kailash absently. "Conan slew him, after the general murdered Salvorus. The barbarian and the priest Madesus exposed the traitor."
"Shocking! One of the king's oldest friends, a traitor to the throne."
Lamici feigned surprise, but nervously wondered if his own treachery had also been discovered. "Did anyone speak to Valtresca before he died?"
"Only the barbarian. According to the priest, the general was a pawn of a greater evil, a priestess of an ancient and evil cult called Mutare.
This priestess, for reasons not known to us, wove a spell of death about Eldran. Were it not for Madesus, the king might now be dead."
Lamici was relieved that he had not been discovered. However, their knowledge of Azora's involvement disturbed him. How could a simple priest of Mitra know of her? Azora had told him that no priest would be able to save the king once her spell was complete. Still, it mattered little now. With Valtresca dead, Lamici's hopes to restore the glory of the Brythunian throne were shattered. The meddlesome barbarian and priest would pay for this outrage! Azora would crush them like bugs. He had to bring her this news, as quickly as possible. But first he would find out what Kailash knew; obviously, the Kezankian bumpkin still trusted him.
"A Mutare? This evil harlot of darkness still lives, or was she slain, too?" he asked.
"Nay, the priest knows not where to find this sorceress, but he said he would track and destroy her. He is powerful, Lamici, not like any priest I have ever known. He bears an amulet that harnesses great magical forces. Conan and I are going with him soon, to help him find the priestess and destroy her. She and Madesus must be enemies of old."
"Did they meet before? How did he know of her?" Lamici was now deeply worried. If the priest was not eliminated quickly, Lamici's dealings with Azora might be discovered.
"He did not say if they had met, but he knew she was nearby. He has an uncanny air about him, Lamici. He could somehow sense her presence; how, he would not explain. I know not what Conan and I can do against the Mutare, but Madesus asked us to accompany him, and I owe a great debt to him."
"Indeed, we all do," said Lamici, smiling. "If I may say, the guardsmen were wondering who would take Valtresca's place as general. If I may be so bold, let me say that none is better suited or more loved by the people than you, Kailash."
Kailash paused for a moment, as this thought had not occurred to him.
He had never put himself in the role of general, but with Salvorus also dead, and the other captains away from the palace, there was no other successor around. Kailash was irritated that he had not thought of this; his mind had been occupied solely with the threat to the king's life. Eldran had always told him that the safety of a king's subjects was far more important than the safety of the king himself.
"The king will soon be well enough to choose his own general," Kailash said after thinking it over. "I made a promise to the priest, and must fulfill it before I do aught else."
Lamici nodded. "Of course you are right," he said. "I will make the necessary arrangements to remove the general's body, and see to the repairs and cleaning of the dungeon. When do you leave?"
"Within the hour. Whenever the priest returns from the temple. Lamici, tell no one of this. We cannot take the chance that traitorous ears may hear us."
"For three generations have the eunuchs served the royal family,"
Lamici said reassuringly. "Your secret is safe with me. May the gods be with you all." He bowed and bid the hillman good-bye.
Moving as quickly as he could, Lamici went to his chambers. From his hiding place, he withdrew a needle-pointed dagger that bore a thin groove along the full length of its gleaming blade. Very carefully, he opened a small jar and picked up a brush laying alongside it, dipping the brush into the jar. His nose recoiled from the stink of the vessel's contents. He carefully dabbed the brush along the dagger's groove, filling it with the orange, saplike liquid, then closed the jar and returned it to its secret place beside the brush.
He pulled back his right sleeve, revealing a thin sheath strapped to the underside of his forearm. His hairless head shone with sweat as he slowly sheathed the blade. He had seen what even one drop of the jar's deadly contents would do to a man, just by touching his skin. He had taken the jar from a Vendhyan assassin, who was caught trying to poison the king. The man, posing as a Vendhyan ambassador negotiating a trade agreement, had been hired by rival nobility of Brythunia. The assassin had coated a tiny dart with the poison and fired it at the king from across the room. At that moment, a gust of wind had blown into the open palace windows and diverted the dart's flight. It had struck a hillman on the arm, but had not pierced the skin. Nonetheless, the man had gripped his arm and fallen to the floor, howling in agony and convulsing. Foam had begun to drip from his mouth before he died. The only mark on his body had been a tiny, thin welt on his arm.
Lamici's mouth curved into a smile at this memory. Such a death was fitting for the meddlesome priest who had ruined Lamici's plans.
Madesus would die foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. The eunuch slid the blade the rest of the way into the hidden sheath and donned a hooded cloak, then slipped out into the ebbing darkness of the Brythunian dawn.
Ten
Shadow and Stone
Madesus reached the temple as the sun rose over the eastern wall of the city, brightening the dull, ivory-colored temple walls with its warming glow. He stopped halfway up the steps to the huge main doors. As if the sun had awakened his memory, he suddenly remembered the location of the building he had seen in his dream, and in the magical pool created by Kaletos.
The city was filled with old buildings, but the oldest of them lay just west of the palace. He had passed by them many times since his arrival in the city; some structures were in crumbling ruins, others had weathered the years well. He was certain that the building they sought had once been a temple. He had not recognized the pantheon; there were strange and ancient carvings on its side.
In the dream and in the pool, the carvings had stood out in crisp detail, as if newly sculpted. In reality, years of weather would have nearly smoothed the carvings from the walls; only the deepest markings would have remained. Perhaps the dream had shown the building as it was centuries ago. Such was not uncommon in mystical scrying. Why had he not sensed the evil that must lurk behind those carvings, within the walls of the building? Mayhap the place itself cloaked the Mutare, and had been chosen for this purpose.
Madesus continued up the steps with newfound urgency. Now was the time to strike against the evil. In the daylight, even blocked by stone walls, the Mutare's powers would be weaker. The bright sun was an omen that Mitra was with him today.
Feeling more confident of his chance of defeating the Mutare, Madesus entered the temple and gathered his possessions. He had no time to speak with Kaletos again; he knew that he must return immediately to the palace, where Conan and Kailash waited. He left a few pieces of silver in his Spartan room for the temple's coffers, and departed hastily.
The streets were crowded on his way back to the palace, as the city went about its morning business. News of the king's renewed health had spread, and many of the townspeople were in better spirits. Little did these people know that with the Mutare in their midst, they were as lambs with a wolf in the fold. The priest shouldered his way through the crowd, finally reaching the palace gates.
At the gate, the guards quickly recognized him, bowing as he passed through. Minutes later, he rejoined Kailash in the king's outer chambers. Conan had risen only moments before, feeling bruised but no longer exhausted. He had borrowed rugged garb from one of the larger hillmen: leggings of sturdy green cloth, and a
long-sleeved, lined tunic with dark leather lacing up the front. He had retrieved his straight, broad-bladed western sword, now hanging unscabbarded from his wide, thick leather belt. Underneath the tunic he still wore his torn leather vest, and on his feet were thick-soled sandals. Overall, his clothing reflected a strange mix of east and west, but his eyes and build were unmistakably those of the western barbarian.
Kailash greeted Madesus and slung his black leather pack over his broad back. His gear was similar to Conan's, except for his curved sword, heavy black boots, and thick iron cap. "We need no rest," he said grimly to the priest. "If you know where this priestess is, we will follow you there now." Conan nodded, dropping his scarred hand to the hilt of his sword in affirmation.
"Truly, Mitra is with us," said Madesus. He had misgivings about plunging ahead unrested, but he was far from weary. "At sunrise today, the location of the Mutare's lair became clear to me. I am now certain that she is in one of the old temple buildings in the ruined section of the city."
Kailash was startled by this. "The ruins? An entire patrol constantly guards those buildings, to keep out undesirables. Superstition and fear keep nearly everyone else away. Many of those structures are haunted, or cursed. The city was built around those ruins, but no man knew who had dwelt there. In the early history of the city, many brave men, exploring the buildings, died from unexplained accidents."
Madesus nodded, unsurprised. "This sort of place would be ideal for a Mutare. As for the guards, they would be more likely to sense the passing of a gentle breeze than the passing of a Mutare. The Mutare are masters of stealth and guile; you could pass by the priestess on the street and take no notice of her. Know you aught else of these buildings, Kailash?"
The burly hillman shook his head. "Nay, they are a mystery even to the longest-bearded of our loremasters. I have the feeling that we are about to find out more than I care to know!"
Conan interrupted brusquely. "Let us go, then! I would soon make good on my oath to Salvorus, before our beards grow as long as your loremaster's." He strode toward the polished copper doors, flinging them open with little exertion. Kailash laughed gustily and followed, with Madesus at his side.
The priest directed Conan to the ruins, near the center of the city. A short wall had been raised around the old structures and was crumbling in a few places along the street that ran alongside it. Even in the morning sun, the, ruins were a somewhat gloomy place. Several tall buildings, still intact, cast long shadows over the street; many of the lower buildings were cloaked so that the sunlight never even touched their stone walls. The style of construction was foreign in all of Brythunia.
Some unnameable aspect of the place set Conan's nerves on edge.
Kailash's tale of the hauntings and deaths had sparked the barbarian's instinctive dread of the supernatural. He was determined to be wary in this place. Reflexively, he freed his blade and carried it openly.
Kailash quickly followed suit. Only Madesus remained calm, undisturbed by the shadows and the tales of ancient curses.
The patrol of guardsmen detected their presence quickly, and were sent on their way by Kailash. The street became very quiet as the sounds of the patrol's retreating boots on the hard stone pavement faded in the distance. The sigmoidal street curved around the ruins. In a quarter of an hour, the three men had traveled halfway along its length. Madesus called a halt to examine one of the buildings.
It stood back less than sixty paces, beyond a large crack in the short stone wall. A tall tower with a crumbling turret stood next to it, almost completely shielding the old temple from the sunlight. One corner was visible from the street. Its decaying stonework and shape indicated its origin, older than the reckoning of venerable sages. Its weathered gray walls were not menacing, and what remained of the stone carvings was too faint to identify which deity the temple's worshipers had paid homage to.
Madesus studied the building, then pointed it out to Conan and Kailash.
The Cimmerian passed through the crack in the wall. It was so short that it did not even rise to the level of his shoulders. He scanned the nearby buildings carefully, but saw nothing out of place. He gestured to Kailash and Madesus, who came forward.
In a barely audible voice, Madesus spoke to the two men. "If you must speak, do so only in the faintest of whispers. Once we reach the building, let me lead. If we find the priestess, do not look her in her eyes. The temptation will be strong, but if you succumb, you will find those eyes as deadly as the fangs of a venomous serpent. With the amulet, I will shield us all with what protection I can."
Conan nodded. "How will you destroy her?"
"With the amulet. Its light, of which you have seen only a glimmer, will dissolve her like fog in the morning sunlight. Your blades might cleave her flesh, but she has no life blood in her veins for you to spill. It was written that only a Mutare with living blood in its veins may be slain by steel. This is a riddle, since by nature, the Mutare have no living blood in their veins.
"Against the light, she has no choice but to flee. If she flees, you must try to stop her. She can be held, though in holding her, you may be wounded, or even killed. If she tries to touch me, the amulet will repel her. This is why I must lead. If we can trap her, she will be doomed. We cannot allow her to escape!"
Kailash gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath. "A plague on these creatures! I would as soon confront a Turanian horde bare-handed than walk blindly into the den of this lioness, knowing I can do nothing against her."
Conan grunted in agreement, knowing exactly how the hillman felt.
Madesus followed the two men to the temple as they trod upon the remains of an old path that led to a large stone door. Conan circled the building, noting that it had five irregularly sized walls, not four as he had at first thought. Five long, low steps led up to the large door, the only visible entrance. Closer inspection revealed why this building had lasted so long; its walls and steps were made of hard gray marble. The elements had worn the stone to a dull finish, but only a few chips and cracks had worked their way into the tough rock.
Conan gestured toward the door, and Madesus nodded. The Cimmerian moved quietly up the steps, scrutinizing the huge stone portal. He examined it with puzzlement, noting that there were no handles. It was half again his height, more than ten feet tall, and nearly as wide. The temple itself was short; its roof was only a few feet from the top of the door. Conan began hunting for a way inside.
Kailash joined Conan while Madesus stood by, looking around. Even on the building's doorstep, the priest could not feel the Mutare's presence. He concentrated, trying to pick up any trace of the evil, but the effort was fruitless. He began to wonder if this was the right building, or if the pool and his dreams had somehow misled him. Then he brushed the doubts aside. This had to be the place. Some forgotten art had imbued the very stone with the power to block his sight.
After several minutes of thorough searching, Conan and Kailash had found no way to open the door. Conan was ready to put his shoulder to it and force it, but as he opened his mouth to speak, a loud click issued from the top step to the left of the door, followed by a low, grating noise as the portal opened. Conan could see a narrow track in the floor beneath the door, along which the marble door was sliding to the right. Behind it, he could see a huge bronze handle set in the stone, protruding from the back of the door.
Instantly alerted, Kailash darted to one side, readying his sword and putting his back to the outer wall. Conan did likewise, moving to the other side. Madesus reached into his tunic, lifting out his amulet and wrapping the chain around his hand. Now he sensed her presence, faint but definite, wafting out of the open doorway like a far-off scent of decay. Steeling himself, he peered into the shadowy darkness beyond the slowly opening portal.
In the dim light, he saw a spacious inner chamber, a veritable auditorium running the entire length and breadth of the building.
Opposite the door, where two of the walls joined, was a large, oddly shap
ed block of stone; Madesus supposed it was an altar of some sort.
Rows of unusually shaped stone benches rose from the floor between the door and the block. Their backs were very high, made of bronze wrought into strange designs, and set directly into the stone benches. Aside from more carvings on the walls, there were no other features in the room. The inner arrangement left little doubt that it was indeed a temple. Madesus squinted at the carvings, trying to make them out, but the light was too poor. Drawing in his breath, he stepped across the threshold into the temple.
Conan and Kailash followed, but Conan was still trying to determine what had caused the door to open. The step where the click had come from was depressed slightly, as if stepped on, but the Cimmerian was certain that neither he nor Kailash had done so. His mind continued to work on this puzzle as he stood behind the priest, looking around. The high ceiling was darker than the skin of a Kushite, and the benches squatted menacingly, like short beasts of bronze and stone, ready to strike at anything within their reach. He looked over at Kailash, whose brow was already beaded with nervous sweat. Conan's own keen senses told him also that danger lurked here.
As the three men studied the auditorium, Conan heard another click from the top step outside. He whirled to face the door, watching with astonishment as it began sliding shut. Grasping one of the ornamental bronze backs attached to a bench, he wrenched it free. Kailash spun around and dashed toward the door, reaching for the bronze handle with his free hand. He got there before Conan and grasped the handle, pulling it back in a desperate effort to keep the door open.
Unfortunately, he was outweighed by the massive portal, which slowed only a little from his efforts.
Conan jammed his chunk of bronze into the path of the closing door.
Ancient metal groaned from the pressure, bending with a metallic screech. The door continued to slow down with only a few handspans of open space left. The barbarian placed his foot against the doorjamb and wrapped his open hand around the bronze handle, trying to help Kailash pull the door back open. The combined might of hillman and Cimmerian was more than the aged bronze could bear. The handle snapped off the door with a loud crack. Kailash held it in his hand, looking at it and cursing.
The Conan Compendium Page 58