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Jehungir Agha, lord of Khawarizm and keeper of the coastal border,scanned once more the ornate parchment scroll with its peacock seal, andlaughed shortly and sardonically.
'Well?' bluntly demanded his counsellor Ghaznavi.
Jehungir shrugged his shoulders. He was a handsome man, with themerciless pride of birth and accomplishment.
'The king grows short of patience,' said he. 'In his own hand hecomplains bitterly of what he calls my failure to guard the frontier. ByTarim, if I can not deal a blow to these robbers of the steppes,Khawarizm may own a new lord.'
Ghaznavi tugged his gray-shot beard in meditation. Yezdigerd, king ofTuran, was the mightiest monarch in the world. In his palace in thegreat port city of Aghrapur was heaped the plunder of empires. Hisfleets of purple-sailed war galleys had made Vilayet an Hyrkanian lake.The dark-skinned people of Zamora paid him tribute, as did the easternprovinces of Koth. The Shemites bowed to his rule as far west asShushan. His armies ravaged the borders of Stygia in the south and thesnowy lands of the Hyperboreans in the north. His riders bore torch andsword westward into Brythunia and Ophir and Corinthia, even to theborders of Nemedia. His gilt-helmeted swordsmen had trampled hosts undertheir horses' hoofs, and walled cities went up in flames at hiscommand. In the glutted slave markets of Aghrapur, Sultanapur,Khawarizm, Shahpur and Khorusun, women were sold for three small silvercoins--blond Brythunians, tawny Stygians, dark-haired Zamorians, ebonKushites, olive-skinned Shemites.
Yet, while his swift horsemen overthrew armies far from his frontiers,at his very borders an audacious foe plucked his beard with ared-dripping and smoke-stained hand.
On the broad steppes between the Sea of Vilayet and the borders of theeasternmost Hyborian kingdoms, a new race had sprung up in the pasthalf-century, formed originally of fleeing criminals, broken men,escaped slaves, and deserting soldiers. They were men of many crimes andcountries, some born on the steppes, some fleeing from the kingdoms inthe west. They were called _kozak_, which means wastrel.
Dwelling on the wild, open steppes, owning no law but their own peculiarcode, they had become a people capable of defying the Grand Monarch.Ceaselessly they raided the Turanian frontier, retiring in the steppeswhen defeated; with the pirates of Vilayet, men of much the same breed,they harried the coast, preying off the merchant ships which pliedbetween the Hyrkanian ports.
'How am I to crush these wolves?' demanded Jehungir. 'If I follow theminto the steppes, I run the risk either of being cut off and destroyed,or having them elude me entirely and burn the city in my absence. Oflate they have been more daring than ever.'
'That is because of the new chief who has risen among them,' answeredGhaznavi. 'You know whom I mean.'
'Aye!' replied Jehungir feelingly. 'It is that devil Conan; he is evenwilder than the _kozaks_, yet he is crafty as a mountain lion.'
'It is more through wild animal instinct than through intelligence,'answered Ghaznavi. 'The other _kozaks_ are at least descendants ofcivilized men. He is a barbarian. But to dispose of him would be to dealthem a crippling blow.'
'But how?' demanded Jehungir. 'He has repeatedly cut his way out ofspots that seemed certain death for him. And, by instinct or cunning, hehas avoided or escaped every trap set for him.'
'For every beast and for every man there is a trap he will not escape,'quoth Ghaznavi. 'When we have parleyed with the _kozaks_ for the ransomof captives, I have observed this man Conan. He has a keen relish forwomen and strong drink. Have your captive Octavia fetched here.'
Jehungir clapped his hands, and an impassive Kushite eunuch, an image ofshining ebony in silken pantaloons, bowed before him and went to do hisbidding. Presently he returned, leading by the wrist a tall handsomegirl, whose yellow hair, clear eyes and fair skin identified her as apure-blooded member of her race. Her scanty silk tunic, girded at thewaist, displayed the marvelous contours of her magnificent figure. Herfine eyes flashed with resentment and her red lips were sulky, butsubmission had been taught her during her captivity. She stood withhanging head before her master until he motioned her to a seat on thedivan beside him. Then he looked inquiringly at Ghaznavi.
'We must lure Conan away from the _kozaks_,' said the counsellorabruptly. 'Their war camp is at present pitched somewhere on the lowerreaches of the Zaporoska River--which, as you well know, is a wildernessof reeds, a swampy jungle in which our last expedition was cut to piecesby those masterless devils.'
'I am not likely to forget that,' said Jehungir wryly.
'There is an uninhabited island near the mainland,' said Ghaznavi,'known as Xapur, the Fortified, because of some ancient ruins upon it.There is a peculiarity about it which makes it perfect for our purpose.It has no shore-line, but rises sheer out of the sea in cliffs a hundredand fifty feet tall. Not even an ape could negotiate them. The onlyplace where a man can go up or down is a narrow path on the western sidethat has the appearance of a worn stair, carved into the solid rock ofthe cliffs.
'If we could trap Conan on that island, alone, we could hunt him down atour leisure, with bows, as men hunt a lion.'
'As well wish for the moon,' said Jehungir impatiently. 'Shall we sendhim a messenger, bidding him climb the cliffs and await our coming?'
'In effect, yes!' Seeing Jehungir's look of amazement, Ghaznavicontinued: 'We will ask for a parley with the _kozaks_ in regard toprisoners, at the edge of the steppes by Fort Ghori. As usual, we willgo with a force and encamp outside the castle. They will come, with anequal force, and the parley will go forward with the usual distrust andsuspicion. But this time we will take with us, as if by casual chance,your beautiful captive.' Octavia changed color and listened withintensified interest as the counsellor nodded toward her. 'She will useall her wiles to attract Conan's attention. That should not bedifficult. To that wild reaver she should appear a dazzling vision ofloveliness. Her vitality and substantial figure should appeal to himmore vividly than would one of the doll-like beauties of your seraglio.'
Octavia sprang up, her white fists clenched, her eyes blazing and herfigure quivering with outraged anger.
'You would force me to play the trollop with this barbarian?' sheexclaimed. 'I will not! I am no market-block slut to smirk and ogle at asteppes-robber. I am the daughter of a Nemedian lord--'
'You were of the Nemedian nobility before my riders carried you off,'returned Jehungir cynically. 'Now you are merely a slave who will do asshe is bid.'
'I will not!' she raged.
'On the contrary,' rejoined Jehungir with studied cruelty, 'you will. Ilike Ghaznavi's plan. Continue, prince among counsellors.'
'Conan will probably wish to buy her. You will refuse to sell her, ofcourse, or to exchange her for Hyrkanian prisoners. He may then try tosteal her, or take her by force--though I do not think even he wouldbreak the parley-truce. Anyway, we must be prepared for whatever hemight attempt.
'Then, shortly after the parley, before he has time to forget all abouther, we will send a messenger to him, under a flag of truce, accusinghim of stealing the girl, and demanding her return. He may kill themessenger, but at least he will think that she has escaped.
'Then we will send a spy--a Yuetshi fisherman will do--to the _kozak_camp, who will tell Conan that Octavia is hiding on Xapur. If I know myman, he will go straight to that place.'
'But we do not know that he will go alone,' Jehungir argued.
'Does a man take a band of warriors with him, when going to a rendezvouswith a woman he desires?' retorted Ghaznavi. 'The chances are all thathe _will_ go alone. But we will take care of the other alternative. Wewill not await him on the island, where we might be trapped ourselves,but among the reeds of a marshy point which juts out to within athousand yards of Xapur. If he brings a large force, we'll beat aretreat and think up another plot. If he comes alone or with a smallparty, we will have him. Depend upon it, he will come, remembering yourcharming slave's smiles and meaning glances.'
'I will never descend to such shame!' Octavia was wild with fury andhumiliatio
n. 'I will die first!'
'You will not die, my rebellious beauty,' said Jehungir, 'but you willbe subjected to a very painful and humiliating experience.'
He clapped his hands, and Octavia paled. This time it was not theKushite who entered, but a Shemite, a heavily muscled man of mediumheight with a short, curled, blue-black beard.
'Here is work for you, Gilzan,' said Jehungir. 'Take this fool, and playwith her awhile. Yet be careful not to spoil her beauty.'
With an inarticulate grunt the Shemite seized Octavia's wrist, and atthe grasp of his iron fingers, all the defiance went out of her. With apiteous cry she tore away and threw herself on her knees before herimplacable master, sobbing incoherently for mercy.
Jehungir dismissed the disappointed torturer with a gesture, and said toGhaznavi: 'If your plan succeeds, I will fill your lap with gold.'
The Devil in Iron Page 2