The master shrugged. 'It makes them feel safer and they pay well for the instruction.'
Conan bade the master farewell and walked outside. Behind him, the clashing of metal resumed.
Another few minutes of walking brought him to the Square. It was a large public area for a city so small, surrounded by splendid wildings and decorated with a number of fine statues. Some of die buildings were temples, others were mansions. One had the royal lions of Aquilonia over its main gate. This, he decided, must lie the headquarters of the King's Reeve.
He began to wander among the numerous stalls set up by vendors. Although he had taken no particular path through the town, lie did not meander aimlessly. He was exploring, fixing the plan if the town in his mind so that he would not become lost should lie have to flee. It would be disastrous to run into a blind alley were there a large group of armed and angry men at his heels.
A number of beggars lounged in the shade of the colonnade Brita had mentioned. Apparently it was too early yet for the ladies lo parade their wares. He was passing the statue of an Aquilonian king dead for a hundred years when he heard a commotion nearby. People began to flee past him, looking back over their shoulders.
With the agility of a mountain goat, Conan sprang up onto the pedestal of the statue. From his vantage point he stood above the heads of the crowd, which now had drawn back to leave a broad, clear space at the western end of the Square. Within the cleared space two groups of men shouted at each other, separated by about a dozen paces. The sun flashed on drawn weapons. It seemed that a fine brawl was in the making.
'Hey up there!' It was a woman's voice. 'You, the black haired foreigner! Help me up. I want to see!''
Conan looked down to see a handsome, brown-haired whose expensive gown was styled to show her lush figure to be advantage. He stooped to grasp her hand and with a tigerish surge of muscle, he hauled her onto the pedestal beside him.
'My, you are a strong one!' She smiled at him boldly, thought I knew all the rogues in this town. Who are you?'
'Conan of Cimmeria. If you know them all, who are the! men making all the fierce noises?'
She surveyed the scene before them. 'The bigger band over there on the right are Lisip's men. The others are Ermak's.'
Now he saw Nevus, his drinking companion of the night before. Nevus stood with about fifteen comrades, all of them hat men like himself. Most of these wore light armour and carried drawn short swords or cutlasses, although one had a light, straight two-hander and another a quarterstaff. They were heavily outnumbered but stood unafraid, smiling and hurling insults.
Facing them were at least thirty men dressed in a motley assortment of garments, most of them marked like the men he ha seen the night before in the Wyvern. They carried an equally grotesque assortment of weapons. At a glance, Conan identified a double-bladed ax from Shem, a Bossonian archer's bill, eight different types of sword, and an iron flail. One man was armed with a pair of steel gauntlets with three-inch spikes over the knuckles.
'Which one is Lisip?' Conan asked.
'You won't see him here,' the woman said. 'He rarely leaves the Pit, and he's too old and fat to fight anyway.'
He did not need to ask which was Ermak. A tall, sandy-haired man stood a little before and to one side of the mercenaries dressed in half-armour of excellent quality. It was the best position for controlling a small unit, and the man had the bearing of an experienced under-officer. The sword he held casually in one ha bore a blade that measured about two inches wide at the hilt and had a perfectly straight taper to its needle point. It was a sword of a true blade artist, and its hilt was a complex steel basket of solid shape.
'This will be enjoyable,' the woman said, 'but they'll take an age to get started. We might as well be comfortable.' She sat on the pedestal, her legs dangling over one edge. Conan sat beside her and gave her an admiring examination. If she noticed, she was totally unembarrassed by it. She was a large woman, but so well proportioned that every line of her was graceful. Her facial features were of the same proportions, but too finely formed to considered heavy.
'Who are you?' Conan asked, 'and how do you come to know so much about these men?'
'I'm Maxio's woman. My name is Delia.' She stuck two fingers against her lower lip and vented a shrill whistle. A vendor looked around and she waved him over to the pedestal. She tossed him a coin and he held up a broad leaf that had been cleverly folded to form a pouch. She took a few nuts from the pouch and popped them into her mouth, then held out the leaf to Conan. He look some of the nuts. They were still warm from the oven.
'And who might Maxio be?' he asked.
'You are new here. Maxio is the leader of his own little band. I freelance, mostly, but sometimes they side with one of the other gangs. They specialize in housebreaking.'
'And Maxio is your husband?'
She laughed heartily. 'Husband? What would I want with a husband? I said I was his woman, but that is a matter that could change.' She gave him an appraisal as open as he had given her. 'It could change very soon, if the right man should appear.'
Lisip's men had drawn closer to Ermak's, who held their ground. They were still well out of weapons range. A crowd of guards now stood on the steps of the Reeve's headquarters, but they did not seem inclined to rush between the two bands and prevent violence.
'Will they do anything?' Conan asked, nodding toward the guardsmen. This time she laughed even louder.
'That bunch of spavined, knock-kneed ex-beggars? If they were horses, you couldn't boil them down for decent glue! You see that fat face peering out from behind them, as if they could somehow preserve it from harm?'
'I see the man,' Conan answered.
'That is Bombas, the King's Reeve, one of the two men who claim to own this city. He belongs to anyone who pays him. Hi lets the rogues have free run of the town, but he hates Maxio, s my man has to keep out of sight most of the time.'
'The royal guards don't look formidable enough to cause a man of spirit any fear,' Conan said.
'Bombas has three who are hard men, and he keeps them close, as his personal bodyguards. One is a local man named Julus. He was once Lisip's second-in-command, but Lisip expelled him for skimming more than his share. The other two are a pair of Zingarans whose names I do not know. They have orders to kill Maxio on sight.' She continued to much the roasted nuts as if the prospect of her paramour's imminent demise was not terribly upsetting. 'I wish they would hurry up and fight. This sun will bring out my freckles.'
Ermak's men had now formed a double line, with intervals between men and lines sufficient to allow free use of weapons but close enough that each would not have to face two enemies at once, except for the flankers. Conan noted with approval that the strongest-looking men stood on the flanks. Lisip's men stood in a disorderly mob, doing most of the shouting. 'Why this enmity for Maxio?' Conan asked. 'Bombas thinks that Maxio murdered his brother last month. This brother was heard arguing with someone in an upper room of the Wyvern. A little while later he was found with a dagger buried in his guts. The dagger was one that Maxio had been carrying for weeks; it had an ivory grip set with garnets.'
'The Wyvern?' Conan said, wonderment in his voice. 'What, was the Reeve's brother doing in that place?'
'Oh, Burdo—that was his name, Burdo—had a well-known taste for the women of that establishment.' She said this with the contempt of a well-placed courtesan for her lesser sisters. 'And
In- suffered from several of the consequent ailments. He was supposed to be meeting someone about a magical cure, but someone killed him instead.'
'Was it Maxio?' Conan asked.
She shrugged. 'I do not know. What is it to me if he did kill him? I know of no reason why he should, but he does not discuss everything with me.' She gave Conan another admiring appraisal. 'Just as I do not tell him everything.'
At that moment, Lisip's mob, their courage sufficiently worked up, charged at the smaller band of mercenaries. Instantly the air was filled with the sou
nd of clashing arms. Shouts of rage vied with screams of anguish, and men began to fall. The mercenaries held their line, while most of Lisip's men could only wave their aims ineffectually. Any time one of Lisip's men tried to force a way through the front line, one of the men in the staggered second line repelled him.
'With that many men,' Conan commented, taking another handful of the nuts, 'they could easily turn a flank. They have numbers sufficient to make up for their lack of skill. It is cowardice that keeps them from doing it.'
'That is so,' she agreed. 'Everyone in town fears Ermak's reputation. He has killed ten men in single combats alone since he came to town, and who knows how many in brawls.'
Now Ermak shouted for the first time: 'Advance!' Smoothly, the second line stepped through the intervals in the first. These men were fresher and they plied their arms with fury, dealing wounds with nearly every blow, taking but few injuries in return.
'It won't be long now,' Delia predicted. 'Lisip's scum have no staying power.'
Conan saw that a number of the rearmost of Lisip's men were already slowly backing away from the mob, not wanting to run like cowards but having lost their taste for the fight.
'Advance all!' Ermak shouted. The former first line now stepped into the intervals, thus forming a single line. All of the mercenaries began to advance forcefully and steadily, dealing a blow with each short step. It was too much for Lisip's mob. After a brief, defensive flurry, they broke, starting with the mercenaries and quickly degenerating into a thinning crowd of fleeing men.
Ermak's professionals pursued them to the edge of the Square, then stopped at their leader's command. Laughing, they turned and walked back across the plaza, wiping their bloodied weapons. Some in the crowd cheered and clapped. Seven men, dead or mortally wounded, lay upon the pave. Some others dragged themselves away, favouring wounded limbs. All were Lisip's. Some of Ermak's men had taken minor wounds, but none needed the help of comrades to walk.
'Not much of a fight,' Delia complained. 'After a good one I've seen as many as two score dead on the Square or in the street.'
Conan was satisfied. It had been amusing, and he had learned! much about the respective merits of two of the town's gangs. 'You said that Bombas is one of two who claim to own the town. Who is the other?'
She pointed to a great mansion that hulked at the northern side of the Square, behind high, spike-topped walls. 'The man who lives in that house. His name is Xanthus and he owns the silver mine, or rather, he leases it from the Crown. He is far and away the richest man in Sicas, and like all of that breed, he can never; be rich enough. It was his problems with the miners' guild that started all this warfare between the gangs.'
At last, Conan thought, he was learning the reason behind this uproarious activity. 'The miners? How so?'
'The miners had a long dispute with Xanthus, and a number! of times they marched into the Square here and made a demonstration in front of his house, shouting and waving their picks and hammers. Finally, they refused to work.' 'What did they complain about?' Conan asked. She shrugged. 'I don't know. Pay or conditions at the mine or some such. I'll have nothing to do with any man who works for a living. That way, you die old and poor.'
' 'If the mine is Crown property, why did he not go to the king for aid?'
'I cannot say, but he did not. Instead, he went to Ophir, where the civil war has been dragging on for years, and he came back with Ermak and his men. Ermak had more than fourscore men with him then. They broke the miners and forced them back to work. That was when the miners' guildhall was burned.'
Conan could see where this was leading. 'But when the mercenaries had restored control, they were of no mind to leave?'
'Not when they found how agreeable life could be for them there. I think that Ermak has decided to retire from the wars and set himself up as a wealthy lord some place.'
'Of course, Lisip did not like all this. He had controlled the underworld activity in this town since before I was born, but he ways stayed in the Pit. Soon he was sending agents out to hire rogues and bring them back here to reinforce him. The word spread that Sicas is a town where anything can be had for a price id where you can do anything you want, as long as you decorate die right palms with silver and gold. Now not a day goes by without some new villain coming through the gate.' Again she gave Conan her bold stare. 'Like you.'
'I thank you for sharing this information with me,' Conan said.
'I'm sure you will put it to good use,' she replied with obvious amusement.
Conan boosted himself from his seat atop the pedestal and landed lightly on bent knees. He reached up and caught Delia by the waist as she pushed off from her own seat. Her waist was remarkably slender for so large a woman. She landed with her hands braced on his shoulders. They stayed there longer than absolutely necessary.
'Farewell, Cimmerian,' she said. 'I expect to be hearing from you soon. Should you wish to see me, I am always easy to find.'
'Before you go,' he said.
'Yes?'
'What do you know of a man named Asdras?'
She looked disappointed. 'The man who was found dead this morning behind the Wyvern? Just that he was a gambler who
came here a few days ago and established himself at a table there. As for his being found dead in the alley, it's a rare morning where a corpse isn't found there.'
'What about a woman who arrived here with him? Her name is Ylla, but she may be using another. She is very young.'
'I'd heard of no woman, but that is not unusual. Sporting men often keep their women hidden away someplace. Now that she's without a protector, she'll probably show up beneath the colonnade there.' She pointed to the structure, where the beggars had resumed their begging. 'The beggars have it in the mornings. The professional women show up as the sun lowers.' She smiled at him. 'You shouldn't have to go looking for a woman, though.' 'I'm not. Thank you again, and good day to you, Delia.' Still smiling, she turned and swayed away, contriving to make even her retreat an invitation.
'Who is that woman?' hissed a voice behind him. He whirled to see a small, feminine figure standing near him. Her head was scarved and her face veiled.
'Brita?'
'Of course it is I. Who else would it be? I came down here this morning while you snored away. I've been combing the town since sunrise, looking for my sister. I saw you come into the Square a while ago, but then I saw that a fight was about to start and I was frightened and fled. Just now I heard that the brawl was over and I came back. Who was that hussy?'
'Is it any business of yours?' he demanded, annoyed with her proprietary attitude.
'Well,' she stammered, the blush concealed behind her veil but plain in her voice, 'I... I... would think that you would not consort with such persons when we have a serious mission to perform.'
'We have, have we?' he said. 'I do not recall taking service with you. I said I would help you out while I wait to contact my employer.''
She was silent for a moment, then said primly, 'I am sorry. I assumed too much. I will not trouble you further.' She turned and began to walk away.
'Wait,' Conan said. She paused. 'As a matter of fact, that woman was telling me of how matters stand in this town. And I asked about Asdras and your sister.'
'What did she say?' Brita asked, hope bright in her voice.
'Not much,' Conan confessed. 'She knew of Asdras, but she knew nothing of your sister.'
'Oh. Well, I have heard from several people that she has been seen. There is a scent that she loves, and I asked among the perfumers until I found a shop where she purchased some of it a few days ago. And other vendors are sure that they saw her. There are not that many gently bred girls her age with a Tarantian accent in this town.'
'She would stand out,' Conan agreed. He was angered at himself for justifying his actions to the woman, as if she had some claim upon him. But there was something in her vulnerability, and in her hopeful courage in this cesspit of a city, that appealed to him. Then he glanced over her
shoulder and saw three men walking toward him across the Square with measured, deliberate stride.
'Go back to the inn,' he told Brita. 'I will speak with you this evening.'
'What is it?' She turned to follow his gaze.
'I am about to be questioned by the royal authorities,' he said. 'Best that you do not attract their notice.'
'I see. I will speak with you later, then.' She left a few seconds before the three were within speaking distance. One was a huge, brute-faced man with black hair sprouting through the laces of his shirt. The other two were smaller, wearing the dress and ornaments of Zingara. The big man had a stout wooden club thonged to his belt, its knotty head studded with iron. The other two wore sleeveless vests of fine mail and boasted curved swords. They had the aspect of men handy with their weapons.
'Come with us,' said the big man. 'The King's Reeve wishes to speak with you.'
—is there some reason why I should go with you?' Conan asked. 'I have done nothing illegal in this town.'
'If you do not come with us,' said the largest of the three, 'you are resisting the Reeve's summons, and that is an offence.'
'Am I under arrest?' Conan asked, his hand near his hilt.
'He just wants to talk to you,' said the man in a bored tone. 'Do not make this difficult.'
'Then lead on,' Conan said. The hulking man turned and Conan followed him. The two Zingarans fell in behind the Cimmerian. They crossed the Square, where a cleaning crew loaded the bodies into wheelbarrows and men wielded mops to clean up the blood. Scavengers had already appropriated the fallen weapons.
Conan followed the big man up the steps of the Reeve's headquarters, at the top of which two guardsmen leaned upon their pikes as if they truly needed the support. One man had a crooked leg. The second was one-eyed, and he squinted with the remaining eye as if the orb were none too sound. Except for his escort, Conan noted, every king's man he had encountered in this town was fat, elderly, or physically infirm in some fashion. It seemed an odd standard of recruitment, but he had no doubt that it tied in with everything else that was wrong with this district. He remembered the decrepit state of the royal high road he had travelled in coining hither. This sorry excuse for a royal burgh was yet further proof that the King of Aquilonia was losing his grip.
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