Conan the Rogue

by John Maddox Roberts

  'Leave it to me. By the way, I have heard that Ermak's men rounded up the miners' wives and children and hold them hostage someplace to guarantee the miners' good behaviour. Know you where they might be?'

  'Nay. The whole incident is a matter of rumour and whispers. The miners have kept to themselves, and they used to be the rowdiest men in the district. These days you see only a few of the old people from the mine settlement. No one speaks openly of it.'

  'I'll find out,' Conan promised.

  'I think you will,' Ulf said, nodding. 'Well, farewell, out-lander. I've had a long day's work and it is past my bedtime. I

  think I'll sleep for ten days or thereabout, keeping your advice in mind.'

  They parted, and Conan walked back toward the centre of town. He took a detour into the Street of the Shoemakers to buy a new pair of boots. His sojourn in the sewers had ruined those he had on his feet. The way people stood back from him reminded the Cimmerian that he had better remove the after-effects of his subterranean exploration before returning to the temple. He found a public bathhouse.

  After turning over his clothes to the laundresses, he luxuriated in a deep wooden tub of near-scalding water, pondering his next move. He wanted a look at Maxio. He had yet to encounter Lisip or Ingas, but he had seen enough of their men to have a low opinion of the pair. He had been inclined to favour Ermak's men, who at least were professional fighting men like himself, until he learned of their abduction of the women and children of the mining community.

  There was a knock at the wooden partition next to the tub. Conan's hand went to his sword-hilt; as always, the weapon was ready to hand. Then the panel slid back to reveal a familiar face and a good deal of the body below it. The sliding partition separated the men's and women's sides of the establishment. As in most such places, the necessity of separation was interpreted liberally, hence the movable divider.

  'Good day, Cimmerian,' said Delia. Droplets of condensed steam clung to her hair, which she had piled on top of her head. She leaned back on her elbows, apparently perched on one of the deep tub's steps, for the water lapped only to her navel, which, Conan noted with interest, contained a very fine star sapphire.

  'Greeting, Delia,' he said. 'Is it just a coincidence that we chose the same bathhouse today?'

  'Don't be ridiculous,' she said. 'I saw you ducking in here and decided that I needed a bath as well.' A pearl necklace with a ruby pendant decorated her neck and the deep valley between her breasts, which were, as she had boasted, nearly as spectacular

  as Mother Doorgah's. 'After all, we don't want to be seen too much in company publicly.' 'Do we not?' he asked.

  'Well, it wouldn't be wise... not just yet, that is.' There was a conspiratorial edge to her voice, a tone he was growing weary of, having heard it so often in this town. 'And what about later?' he asked.

  'Well, that depends upon what you do with what I am about to tell you,' she said, looking up at the ceiling with an expression of innocence that was utterly foreign to her handsome face.

  'Out with it then,' he said impatiently. 'Be assured, you have gained my attention.'

  'Getting a man's attention is easy,' she said wistfully, trailing her hands downward over her voluptuous body, from collarbones to hips. 'Keeping it is another matter.'

  'Trouble with Maxio, eh?' the Cimmerian inquired. 'He is tiring of me,' she replied, 'and his eyes wander toward women not half as beautiful as I. He is bored with me. Can you imagine ever becoming bored with me?' she demanded, her lovely eyes flashing.

  'I could not think of it,' Conan muttered. In truth, the woman was certainly difficult to ignore.

  'You are a better man than Maxio,' she said. 'You know how to appreciate a woman like me. And for that reason, I will favour you with that bit of information we spoke of the other night.'

  Conan was amazed that she had any memory of the evening at all. 'You mean Maxio's job?'

  'Exactly. I now know when it will take place.' 'Then tell me,' he urged.

  'Not so fast,' she chided. 'A woman must look out for herself, you know. You are a splendid figure of a man, and I think you and I may have a great future together, but suppose that you and Maxio kill each other. Where would I be then?' 'How much?' Conan asked. 'Two hundred marks,' she said. 'Gold.' He laughed. 'Twenty would be more like it!'

  'Do you take me for some petty informer?' she demanded, splashing the water petulantly. 'One hundred fifty, no less.'

  'Seventy-five,' he said, 'and I expect full details.'

  'One hundred twenty-five, and it is only because you are so handsome that I even consider so low a sum!'

  'One hundred,' Conan countered. 'Just imagine me as being ugly.'

  She sighed. 'Done, but it is only because I burn for the touch of your hands upon me. It is to be tonight.'

  'What time?' Conan demanded.

  'Three hours after the fall of night. Do you know where the royal storehouse is?'

  'I have seen it,' Conan answered.

  'There are two floors, with no windows on the ground floor and only small, barred windows on the second. The roof is flat, made of heavy timbers covered with lead tiles. The walls are very thick.' She had put aside her flirtation, and her voice became brisk and businesslike.

  'How does Maxio propose to get in?'

  'For several months now,' she said, 'Maxio's men have been going up on the roof. They've detached certain of the lead tiles, and they've been sawing away quietly at the timbers with a special, very thin blade. While one saws, another sucks up the sawdust with a copper tube covered at one end with gauze. They're down to the last half-inch now, and tonight they'll go in.'

  'How many of them?'

  'Five besides Maxio to go inside. Three to carry the loot to their cart, and one in the cart.'

  'How do they gain the roof of the storehouse?' Conan asked.

  'Behind the storehouse is an alley and beyond that, the Temple of Anu. They've bribed the priest of the temple for use of an upper room, supposedly to hide out from other gangs, but really because you can get from there to the roof. In the room, they keep a plank bridge for crossing the alley. Tonight they'll have their cart hidden in a side courtyard next to the temple. They'll cover the loot with canvas, and on top of that goes a load of dung.

  When the gate opens in the morning, it will be just another dung- ' gatherer's cart heading out to sell fertilizer to the local farms.'

  Delia leaned back and raised water in her cupped hands, tilting it to cascade over her body. 'Maxio says that he will lie low, that the theft may not even be discovered for days, but I do not believe him. I think he will leave with the loot tonight, and abandon me here.'

  'He is a treacherous wretch indeed,' Conan said.

  'Well, do you not think that is worth a hundred marks to you?'

  'Surely you don't think that Maxio would let me in on a feat that he has been preparing for months?' he asked.

  She smiled slyly. 'A man of your wit will find a way to turn this information to advantage.'

  'No doubt,' he answered. He took his belt pouch from where it lay by his sword and separated the requisite coins, which he placed in her damp palm.

  She surveyed her bare, voluptuous form. 'Now where am I going to put this?' she asked, coquettishly.

  'That is your problem,' Conan replied, sliding the partition firmly shut. From beyond it, he heard her full-throated laughter.

  Treacherous bitch, he thought,- but he was unable to summon up much rancour toward her. There was something robustly innocent in Delia's amorality. She was, indeed, a lone woman among predatory men, and who would blame her for selling one to another, especially if that one was about to abandon her? She was an experienced woman, and Conan did not doubt that she was correct on that point. It must have happened to her with some frequency in the past.

  A laundress brought in his clothes, newly scrubbed of their sewer effluvium and dried by the cellar furnace that heated the water for the baths. He had himself shaved by the establishment's barber
, buckled on his brigantine, resumed his weapons, and went out to see what else the day had to offer.

  In a stall on a side street he saw an old woman selling silken scarves. On impulse, he asked her if she had seen Brita. The crone eyed him sourly.

  'That poor, mad lass who runs all over town seeking her sister? I see her nearly every day lately. If you are her man, you had best lock her up before she's killed, or worse. How she has stayed alive and free in this town is a mystery. I hear that she even roams about at night. She must be under the special protection of some god.'

  'And her sister?' Conan asked.

  'Could be any of a hundred girls around here.' A cunning gleam came to her eye. 'Perhaps she's just angry with you and that's why she's away from you all day and all night. A present might win her favour back. A silk scarf, perchance?'

  He shook his head and left the old woman cackling behind him. A random check of gossipy shopkeepers confirmed that Brita was still engaged in her futile search. He was beginning to doubt her sanity. She needed a caretaker, but that was not a task he wished to assume. He was a free man, subject to all of the risks inherent to that state. He no more wanted to be tied down by a madwoman than by a wife.

  Cloaked and hooded, the Cimmerian appeared at the headquarters of the King's Reeve with the fall of night. The rickety guards gaped at him from the doorway.

  'I must have words with the Reeve,' Conan told them. 'But he is still at table,' said one.

  'Then he can invite me to share supper with him,' said Conan. 'I have information that he greatly wishes to hear. Tell him that it is a matter of which we have spoken before.'

  Shaking his head and clucking, one of the guards disappeared into the interior. Conan hoped the man would be able to retain the message in his aged mind. A few minutes later the hulking Julus appeared.

  'My master will see you now. Do not waste his time.' Conan did not bother to answer; he merely followed the guard to a spacious room, where Bombas sat at table. The table was heaped with viands, but there was only a single setting. Numerous plates of bones and other devastated foodstuffs already littered the broad surface. Still biting into a joint of meat, the Reeve raised bleary eyes toward the intruder.

  'What do you want?' he demanded past a mouthful of venison.

  'You bade me come to you should I have certain information you desire.' Behind him, Julus lounged against a wall, arms folded casually across his broad breast.

  'Say on.' Bombas set down the joint and wiped his fingers on a napkin.

  'Do you still want Maxio?' Conan asked. 'I can give him to you, this very night.'

  The bloodshot eyes sharpened and the Reeve almost smiled. He gestured to a seat opposite him. 'Sit you down, foreigner. Have something to eat.'

  'I have already eaten,' Conan said, taking a chair. The Reeve signalled and a slave girl filled a cup, which the Cimmerian took.

  'Now, tell me what you know.'

  Briefly, Conan outlined what Delia had told him. The Reeve chewed and nodded. He drank heavily, but his eyes never lost their cunning gleam. When the recitation was done, he wiped his mouth.

  'Very good, very good, my friend. You shall be richly rewarded for this.' He leaned forward. ''what you say proves to be true.'

  'What do you mean?' Conan demanded hotly. 'Do you think I would lie?'

  'Easy, man. Curb your tongue,' the Reeve cautioned. 'Your words have the sound of truth, but I must be cautious. How came you by this information?'

  'I have made friends in the Pit,' Conan said. 'You understand, I would never learn anything if I let my sources of information be known.'

  'Aye. I see that you know the rules of this game. Well, no matter. Nothing counts but that I have my brother's slayer in my grasp.' He closed a chubby fist as if squeezing something. 'Tonight we'll bag the lot.'

  'Very good,' Conan said. 'And my reward?'

  'Not so fast,' Bombas cautioned, chuckling. 'That comes only after I have Maxio.'

  Conan shrugged. 'That suits me. I will come by for it on the morrow.' He made as if to leave, knowing that he would not.

  'Just a moment,' Bombas said sternly. 'Sit down. I want you to go with us this night.'

  'Wherefore?' asked Conan.

  'Because I am yet uneasy about you. I want you to stay close by me until this business is done. Now tell me, barbarian, why a man like Rista Daan was willing to pay so well to have you out of my dungeon.'

  'That is between him and me,' Conan answered. 'However, if the very wealthy and distinguished Rista Daan wishes to inform you, you need only ask him.'

  Bombas shifted uneasily in his seat. 'Oh, well, I suppose it is of no account.' He turned to Julus. 'Get the men together,' he ordered. The big man smirked slightly at the word 'men' but went to do is master's bidding. When Julus was gone, the Reeve turned back to face the Cimmerian.

  'What sort of man are you, Conan?' he asked. 'You are handy with weapons, but you haven't sought to join any of the gangs. You interest me.'

  'I work for myself,' Conan said, not taken in by the Reeve's suddenly friendly tone. 'Sometimes people hire me for a particular service. I prefer that to long-term employment.'

  'A mercenary, eh? Just pay, no oath of fealty for you, is that the way of it?'

  'Something like that,' Conan agreed.

  'Well, perhaps after tonight you'll wish to take service with me. I'm a generous master, just ask any of my men.' He chuckled merrily, apparently in the best of spirits.

  'I did not think you hired men who were sound of limb,' Conan said, enjoying the way the fat face went red.

  'I can always use a good man,' Bombas said, 'as long as he knows how to curb his tongue.'

  They waited in silence for a few minutes; then Julus returned to report that all was ready. From the dining room they went to the armoury, where Bombas's contemptible force was assembled. Conan noted that all were now equipped with crossbows, the only weapons with which they could possibly be of menace to sound, experienced fighting men. The two silent Zingarans were there, and these two, along with Julus, were the only men to whom the Cimmerian accorded a second thought.

  From the Reeve's headquarters they passed through back alleys unseen. In this better part of the town, all were indoors early, the doors barred and their windows shuttered. Honest citizens wanted nothing to do with a band of armed men moving about the city after dark. Conan thought wryly that in daylight, this group would provoke more laughter than fear.

  Near the royal warehouse, Bombas stationed men in doorways and dark alleys on three sides of the building, leaving untended the side fronting the Temple of Anu. Last of all, he went into the small shrine of a local god. From it, one could see both the temple and the storehouse. The moonlight dimly illuminated the strip of sky between the two buildings. According to Delia, that strip would soon be bisected by the burglars' plank bridge.

  'Now we wait,' announced Bombas. The fat Reeve, the bulky Julus and the two slight but deadly Zingarans, together with Conan, crowded the little shrine to capacity.

  For more than an hour, no one spoke. The Cimmerian forced himself to the patient, but the task was not easy. The Reeve smelled sourly of wine, the others of the sweat of tension. Bombas's nerves began to play on him.

  'Barbarian,' he hissed, 'have you brought us—'

  'There!' Conan whispered. He pointed to the greyish strip of sky before and above them. Something slid across the space like the tongue of a dragon. 'The bridge.'

  Moments later they saw stealthy forms crossing the plank, making no sound. Within the shrine all was gloom, but enough moonlight penetrated for Conan to see the shine of the Reeve's teeth as the man grinned triumphantly.

  'You did not speak idly, foreigner,' said Bombas. 'We will wait here now. Let them busy themselves within. Let them feel comfortable. We do nothing until I give the signal.'

  For several more minutes they waited. By straining their ears, they could just hear faint rustling sounds from above. There were some muffled cracks, undoubtedly signifying
the completion of the rooftop passageway into the storehouse.

  'Soon now,' said the Reeve. Then, when a number of minutes passed without further sound, he turned to Conan. 'Barbarian, I want you to go in there. Go up to the roof and drop through their hole. Tell them to surrender themselves and I will show them mercy.'

  'Why should I do that?' Conan demanded.

  'Because I order it,' said the Reeve. Then, in an almost wheedling tone: 'There will be no danger. You are a warrior, fully armed, and they are just burglars, probably not even carrying weapons.'

  'But you have a key to the front door,' Conan protested. 'Why not just go in and shout up the stairs?'

  'They would scatter,' said Bombas. 'You can block their exit from the hole they've made while we come in from the front.'

  'Why not use one of your own men for the purpose?' Conan asked.

  'They would make noise. I've always heard that Cimmerians can climb like mountain goats. You can do it easily and silently. Go now. There is no danger, and I will increase your reward. How sounds a thousand golden marks?'

  'Half as good as two thousand,' said Conan.

  'Two thousand then!' said Bombas, fuming. 'Now go!'

  The Cimmerian stepped from the shrine and walked around to the front of the Temple of Anu. There was a cheerful spring in his step because he had enjoyed making the fat Reeve sweat. It amused him that Bombas had bargained, fully aware that he would pay nothing. Conan decided that meanness was so much a part of the man's character that he could not even feign generosity in order to tempt a victim to his death.

  The front of the temple was plain, but the façade had been ornamented, some of the stones protruding a few inches from the others in pleasing patterns. These provided adequate finger-and toe-holds for Conan, who scaled the wall easily. At the parapet, he raised his head slowly until he could see across the roof. It was deserted.

  He swarmed over the parapet and crossed the roof. The plank bridge was still in place. Before crossing, he went to the side of the building where Delia had said there was a courtyard. The cart was there, barely visible, its black-garbed driver clucking quietly to the draft ox, keeping the beast still.