The Conan Chronology

by J. R. Karlsson

  Three staring products of the civilisation of the west, almost in shock, as if under the Cimmerian's spell, agreed.

  'Shubal and I are banned from the palace. We'll not be permitted to enter with you at tomorrow night's dinner-at which we all assume that your queen assuredly intends to announce her betrothal to a trickster determined to hand your land over to Koth. Khashtris: Shubal and I need your help in getting into the palace. We may have to down a royal guardsman or two, but that is small price for Khauran itself!'

  She looked about at the robed man with brown hair and grey beard, and at the Shemite mercenary from a warrior clan; they sat as if enthralled, gazing at the youthful Cimmerian - a warrior and the manager of a city waiting to be instructed; told, led. Khashtris swallowed.

  only I'd had such a son . , . if only he were my son . . . if only I could bear his . . . if only I were younger!

  Ishtar! Acrallidus was thinking. A wolf is loose in Khauran - and he fights for Khauran!

  This man will lead armies some day, Shubal was thinking. I hope I am there to see and to participate!

  Khashtris spoke. We will be in the Ashkaurian Room,' she said. 'It is used as a smaller dining-room, and lalamia loves it. It is also your means of entry. A secret palace escape route leads off it, through the pantry. You two will enter that way.' She thought a moment. 'Shubal: you must make straight for the dragon-carved door and secure it against the royal guards. Conan —'

  'Conan,' Conan said low, almost snarling, 'will see to the rest.'

  X

  Conan Magus

  All present at the queen's dinner party remarked how she was dressed as a girl, and looked younger. Almost shockingly, her hair was down and bound by a fillet of silver I hat held a flashing sapphire on her forehead. Pearl-sewn bands of gold encircled both forearms and each wrist was itraceleted in silver set with amethysts. Otherwise, she wore above the hips only a pearl-sewn bandeau of white silk imported from afar, supported by a neck-strap of woven cloth-of-gold. Her lowslung skirt was side-slit nearly to I lie hipband, from which depended plackets of black cloth that were scintillantly alive with rubies and garnets, sapphires and carnelians, topazes and emeralds, and a single ,great piece of amethyst.

  Her happiness and brightness infectiously carried to most of her guests: Arkhaurus and his so-thin wife, once of Koth; Sergianus the Nemedian dukeson whose tunic and overtunic were both sleeveless to display his youthful arms; the two lord cousins of the queen, and the wife of one. Present too, though less festive, were Noble Khashtris and Governor Acrallidus and his wife.

  Servants passed to and from the pantry bearing dish after savoury dish to set before the diners, whose goblets of gold were kept filled with several wines of fine vintage and bouquet.

  Khashtris waited nervously. No untoward sound emerged from the pantry; Conan and Shubal did not come. She had taken leave of them at her home, after forcing upon each a little figurine of Ishtar, for Khashtris was a believer. Her heart thudded and she was hot and prickly. Already she had drunk too much wine to assuage her thirst; it was exerting the opposite effect now, drying her mouth already dry with apprehension.

  At last the fruit was brought, and the queen arose.

  Khashtris gripped the table's edge, awaiting the terrible announcement of betrothal. It did not come. Telling them happily that she had as unique entertainment the illusionist Crispis from down in Kandala, lalamis clapped her hands. The tall door of carven wood, edged with filigree in bronze, was opened from without.

  The diners gaped at the advent of the illusionist. Crispis was an uncommon tall man, and apparently a burly one as well, though he was swallowed within a great black robe like a tent. Its hood was up and within could be seen only shadows, darkness and the tip of a nose-and the great dark brown beard that flowed forth. He wore a single black glove; the left sleeve of his robe dangled loose and empty.

  'I smell . . . horse,' Arkhaurus's wife whispered, and was shushed by her husband.

  The only break in the darkness of Crispis's appearance drew every gaze. The amulet lay on his chest just below the beard, a small golden sword-shape set with a topaz at the end of each bar of its guard; they were like eyes.

  Welcome,' the queen said, seating herself, 'O Master Crispis! Though I have not seen you before now, I have heard naught but praise of your skills.'

  The tall robe bowed, straightened. A gloved hand rose to finger the amulet. When the voice emerged from the cowl, it was so deep as to be obviously artificial, and one or two of lalamis's guests smiled.

  'Crispis will amaze you with his knowledge of yourselves, Lady Queen and noble guests, with the aid of the twin all-seeing eyes of the magic amulet: the Eye of Erlik! Ah! Already I perceive that the glorious Queen of Khauran contemplates the making of an important announcement! Fear not; Crispis will say no more of it, for the revelation is yours to make.'

  While he bowed, lalamis and Sergianus exchanged a look, and smiled.

  Again the gloved hand fingered the amulet. 'Oho . . . Noble K —Noble Khashtris, is it not? A woman of softness and sentiment and religious beliefs! I see that you wear concealed an image of Ishtar . . . though far from Crispis to name the place wherein you have it tucked. It belonged to your mother.'

  Though she blushed and tried to smile, the importunities of the others coaxed Khashtris to confirm the seer's words: she produced from between her breasts the little figurine Conan and Shubal had seen her tuck there. Now she wondered: in what dark closet was poor Crispis of Kandala bound and gagged, and what horse had given up much of its mane to provide the beard that flowed from the cowl of the black robe?

  'How now!' Arkhaurus called, smiling, and lifted his goblet to Crispis. We have with us a seer indeed - and well upbrought, too!'

  While others chuckled, Crispis spoke: 'Aye, O lord, for with the aid of this amulet from the mages of far Iranistan, Crispis sees all. I see you, great adviser to a queen enthroned, riding a high-stepping horse. It is a Kothic horse and bears Koth's arms, I see . . . and why is my lord's table dagger dripping with blood?'

  All were silent. Arkhaurus had gone red as Khashtris had been, save for his knuckles. They were white around his goblet. He stared down at the jewelled eating utensil on his plate. Its blade was unsmeared.

  'Cryptic seer,' Acrallidus said. 'Plan you a trip to Koth, Lord Arkhaurus?'

  'Idowod'

  'Ah,' Crispis said, drawing it out until he had regained their attention. 'Perhaps I see awrong. Yet beside you on another horse, a royal palfrey of Koth, I see riding an old, old man. Dry as dust he is, thin, shaky of hands, bald of crown yet with strings of hair hanging down like a fringe of yellowish white. A man two of whose lower foreteeth are missing. A man wearing a medallion ... ah. Your pardon my good lord. I'd not seen you sitting there next the queen, in the blaze of her glory. The congratulations of Crispis on how well you bear the weight of your many, many years, and even the baronial weight of that medallion of Korveka.'

  What means he? You, Lord Sergianus?'

  'Korveka?'

  'Speaks he to young Sergianus?'

  'See here, Crispis . . . '

  'Ah! Now I see the source of the blood on your dagger, Lord Adviser to the Queen ... it is that of a girl ... a tool,

  helpless and young . . . wait, do not speak, her name comes -Ah! Rosela!'

  Arkhaurus half rose; amid deadly silence, Crispis's voice asked a question. 'My good lord Baron Sabaninus of Koth . . . why call you yourself 'Sergianus', and pretend to be young? Behold-when I cover all my amulet and even the eyes, all here see you as you really are!'

  Gone pale, Sergianus could only sit stiffly, looking back at staring eyes; the eyes of everyone at table, their gazes fixed on him ...

  Then the queen rose. What means this?' She spoke to Crispis. Poor Sergianus, already believing that his true form had somehow been made visible to all, made the logical error; he assumed that she spoke to him. 'It means this Crispis must be a-a-some sort of spy!' Sergianus cried desperately, while he rose. From
a side slit in the long-skyrted overtunic he drew a sword, and rushed down-table on its left, towards the black-robed magus. 'I'll have that amulet, dog '

  The pantry door swept open. 'No, Sabaninus of Koth,' Shubal said, 'you'll have what you deserve, Kothic plotter against Khauran I'

  Perhaps the game was not quite up until then; Sergianus of course remained Sergianus. Arkhaurus's hand snatched up his dagger, and he swung, and drove it into Shubal's thigh. Meddling Shemite!' Shubal groaned aloud; the blade caught in muscle and while Arkhaurus strove to free it, Shubal twitched his sword so that it touched the neck of my lord Arkhaurus.

  'Release the blade, traitor,' the Shemite said. 'It can remain where it is. Others will remain still, else I slit the throat of this mis-adviser!'

  All in the room froze; Sergianus already had, at the sudden bursting of Shubal among them. Now he returned his attention to Crispis-who, having slit his robe up the front with the dagger he held within, left-handed, threw back his cowl. He dropped the robe to reveal a huge young man in a mail corselet. 'It's-that barbarian ' 'Conan!' 'You!'

  'Khashtris!' the queen cried. What means thi —guards!'

  Conan kicked violently backward. The door slammed and his dagger-hand swung back to drop the heavy bar into its brace. A moment later the door was struck by a shoulder on its other side; it did not yield. This room was haven and means of escape in the event of siege, and the bar was of iron.

  Sergianus drove at the Cimmerian. Pouncing away, Conan whipped up his own sword and struck hard. Sergianus was able to dodge the stroke, and a moment later Crispis's 'beard' was thrown at his face.

  'Here, my lord of Korveka — a gift from a horse!'

  While Sergianus fought away the mass of hair, Conan pounced far to his right, and sent his blade skimming over the head of a woman who shrieked and fainted. Had he intended his point for her, she's have been bloody rather than with her face in her gravy; the first inch of Conan's blade drove just where he had aimed: into the throat of Arkhaurus.

  'For Rosela, murdering traitor-I feared Shubal would steal you from me!'

  Arkhaurus's wife shrieked. Sergianus, recovered, swung high his blade and began his swing as he pounced at Conan. The Cimmerian's sword clanged off the Kothian's; both men staggered and Conan went to one knee - and his left hand flashed up to embed a foot of his dagger's blade in Sergianus's belly.

  Every breath was held while Sergianus stood very still, so rigid that he quivered all over.

  'He's DEAD!' Arkhaurus's wife screamed into the silence. 'O Ishtar, no, NO, my love! It was not WORTH it! I BEGGED you not to ally yourself with that Korvekan impostor! O Ishtar help me-why did I not tell the queen when first you and he plotted? My lord is dead,' she wailed, hugging a seated corpse, 'dead ... a traitor!'

  Sergianus remained standing, shaking as though caught in an icy wind. Conan's left arm twisted viciously and he withdrew his dagger. A splash of blood followed, and continued freely flowing.

  'Not - enough,' Shubal gritted, and dropped his sword. With a grunt he plucked the dagger from his leg, swiftly

  dragged its bloody tip across the front of his tunic, reversed it, and slammed it at Sergianus with all his strength. His leg scarlet to the ankle, Shubal begin sliding down, his back against the pantry door.

  The slippery knife did not fly true. Not its point but its pommel struck Sergianus, in the temple. The sound of impact was loud, and followed by the queen's scream. She came rushing down the aisle formed between wall and table, opposite Shubal. New cries and a scream rose, for as Sergianus began to fall - he changed.

  The weeping, moaning queen reached the fallen man just in time to look down upon . . . not Sergianus, but the old, old man described by 'Crispis'. Who had slain him, whether Conan or Shubal, was unknown and unimportant; the fact was that he was dead, and in death Sabaninus resumed his own form. He stared up from rheumy old eyes at the queen he had duped, but he did not see her.

  Slowly lalamis looked up at Conan.

  'He is the Baron of Korveka in Koth, my lady Queen,' he told her. Through some sorcery he took on younger appearance, and assumed a title and name; Tor of Nemedia is not even a duchy. I saw him as he was my first day here, at the instant of my soul's returning to my body. He and Arkhaurus plotted together; your treacherous adviser's Kothic wife will tell you the story. Only Shubal prevented their agents, Rosela and her brother Nardius, from killing the princess while you were away. You restored to me my soul, Queen of Khauran; I return to Khauran its soul!'

  'I wish I'd never seen you. Get away from that door.'

  In mute surprise, Conan did so. She seized the bar. When he sought to aid her, she threw her weight against him, wrenched free, and unbarred the door herself. Poised guards nearly fell, finding their swords-drawn rush blocked by their liege-lady.

  'Sergianus was a Kothic impostor and Arkhaurus a traitor in league with him,' she told the uniformed men, in a' flat, dull voice that might have emerged from a sarcophagus. 'Conan and Shubal have saved the realm. Call my physician to attend Shubal at once. Take your orders from Noble Khashtris.'

  And she was gone in a rush of sideslit skirts and flashing legs.

  Thus was Khashtris occupied for a time, ere she could hurry from the others and rush to her cousin's apartment. A leech hurried in to bend over Shubal; guardsmen removed corpses with Arkhaurus's widow still clinging to him, weeping.

  'You've saved us all, Conan,' Acrallidus said. 'Ye gods-and our poor accursed queen thought she had found happiness at last - with that!'

  Conan glanced at the soles of Sergianus Sabaninus's boots as he was carried from the chamber. 'You must counsel her close and be as her father, Acrallidus.'

  Acrallidus sighed. 'And you, Conan. You must remain with us, close to us, protecting the queen so that she knows she is secure . . . and her daughter, our future queen. Were Khauran to fall into dispute or a queen to die heirless . . . Kothic troops would be here within weeks!'

  'But,' Conan began, 'I-'

  He was interrupted by the sound of a shriek of horror and sorrow. Both men rushed, trailed by confused palace guards, to the apartment of the queen. They discovered that it was Khashtris they'd heard; she sat on the floor with her royal cousin's head in her lap. Just under her pearl-glistening bandeau of soft white silk, Queen lalamis had stabbed herself.

  'Only Sergianus,' lalamis said in a tiny voice, 'gave me reason to live. I end this . . . miserable life. Ac-Acrallidus . . .' She shuddered. 'Good Acrallidus, counsel a-and guide Tar-amis for-uh! -for she will need you sorely. I ... regret only tha-at I -eave her . . . alone. Perhaps she . . . she and your K-rallides . . .' She broke off again, coughing blood. 'Co-Conan ... I suppose you saved Khauran. But . . . but I-I'd have been ha ... hap-peee . . .' Again she shuddered, and her head fell aside in death.

  The smoke from a score of censers eddied from the temple of Ishtar, mingling with the mournful sound of the priests. Beneath the temple, in the Royal Mausoleum, lalamis had joined her husband and unhappy ancestors. Down the broad steps paced Conan, towering over the woman at his side. Her hair was down, but covered in the white homespun veil of Khaurani mourning.

  She spoke. 'Nothing will change your mind, will it?'

  'No.'

  She looked up at his face. 'Oh, damn you! How I wish you were older or I younger!'

  'I am glad we are as we are, Khashtris, for I would love you, and I have much of the world to see ere I and a woman say words before some priest.'

  'Thank your gods for that. You have re-covered that amulet with clay.'

  'Yes. The Eye of Erlik has no power for me, but only for a ruler I'll not tell you of. It was I deluded Sabaninus, not the amulet. Even Crispis has forgiven me, once I remembered to go and free him and you gave him that nicely clinking bag. This amulet has served its purpose for Khauran. Now I leave Khauran, and I must have the Eye of Erlik thus again: disguised.'

  At the foot of the steps, she halted. 'Take this.' Into his hand she placed a half-circle of silver: a Queenhead cut
in half. 'The other half of this will be worn around the neck of her you may have made a happy queen of Khauran -eventually: Taramis. I will see to it. She will know of you. You will ever be able to find employment here, though I - -' She closed his hand over the bit of metal. 'Though I am gone.'

  Funeral or no, Noble Lady Khashtris or no, Conan was about to embrace her when he heard the voice of Acrallidus: 'Conan! I need to talk with you!'

  Conan turned to face the man, green-robed and white-veiled. 'No need, Acrallidus. I will not remain in this shadowed kingdom . . . queendom. Shadizar may be called the City of Wickedness, but I am no saint, and my horses are ready. I ride west and north - now.' He affected not to notice the ring Khashtris was sliding on to his finger.

  'But-'

  'He will not be convinced, Acrallidus,' Khashtris said. 'I understand. And Shubal, too, understands; I think he would leave me to go with you were he hale, Conan. He lost much blood and must rest for a week at least.'

  'Oh-he and I have a terrible bill at the tavern of one Hilides, Khashtris. Fifty Queenheads, I think.'

  She looked at him, knowing he lied. 'I will give Shubal the money to pay it, Conan. I hope it doesn't end in the hands of a certain pedlar of fruits I ask for you to hold on to that coin, Conan - that half-coin.'

  'I will keep it,' Conan said, and thought, or try to. will keep it, and remember. Mayhap some day I will return to Khauran, to see how fares Queen Taramis. I know you and Acrallidus will guide her well; for now, Khauran is your responsibility. I am for Shadizar, home of cults and wine and women . . . two of which are more to my liking than poor curse-haunted Khauran and service to a child enthroned.'