'This is most fascinating,' Jaganath said. 'My king will be most interested in these matters. We must speak of these things during the voyage. His majesty wishes me to withhold nothing concerning travel and commerce from my book.'
'I shall be at your service,' said Kasavo with a friendly smile. 'And now I must see to my ship. You may wish to secure your goods with rope.
When we pass the seawall, the water will be far rougher. If you begin to feel ill, remember to use the lee rail. That is the one where the wind does not blow in your face.' With an insolent grin he left the shanty.
'Spices!' Gopal said in their own tongue. 'As if anyone with a nose could not tell that this ship has never carried more than their cook's pepperpot! I yearn to tread upon that arrogant fool's insolent mouth.'
'Peace, nephew,' Jaganath soothed. 'What matter the slights of ignorant foreigners? For now, we are no more than silly scholars who believe everything we hear. Smile at them, laugh at their jokes on you. Let them have their sport.' He smiled serenely. 'Soon we shall have a great deal of sport with them.'
By the next morning Gopal was very seasick, to the merriment of the sailors. Jaganath borrowed the cook's tiny stove and brewed a potion of
herbs that quickly restored the younger man's health. The sailors were a little disappointed that their sport had been so short-lived. In the ensuing days they continued to bait the passengers, at first with the mild jokes traditional at sea when landlubbers take passage, then with rougher, more malicious jests. Soon Kasavo dropped his mask of affability and treated his passengers with barely veiled contempt. It was clear that soon the corsairs would tire of their sport and consign two Vendhyan bodies to the sharks prior to dividing up their belongings. The voyage turned out to be longer than expected, with much tacking and wearing against contrary winds. Tempers were not improved by this, but the Vendhyans continued to smile obsequiously and made no protest at being the butt of the crew's rough jests.
At last the Songbird weathered the dangerous Baracha Strait between the islands and the mainland, and fair weather and winds prevailed. No more than two days remained before they reached Kordava. The sun was lowering sedately over the yardarm after a leisurely half day of sailing when Jaganath addressed his nephew: 'Gopal, it is no longer necessary to abide the insolence of these subhumans. Do as your spirit bids you.' With these mild words the great mage loosed the bonds of his young kinsman.
'As you say, uncle.' Gopal grinned ferociously, then calmed himself and exited the little cabin. Despite the advancing season, the weather was very mild, even balmy, and Gopal wore only his turban and a clean linen loincloth. Tucked into the loincloth he carried a short, curved dagger with a jewelled hilt. He went to the rail, where a bucket was tethered by a long rope to a belaying pin. He cast the tarred leather bucket into the sea and drew it forth brimming with seawater. Squatting by the bucket, Gopal began his ablutions, splashing the water into his face, under his arms, and over his chest and shoulders.
Nearby, a knot of sailors lounged. They were typical of the crew of this or any other pirate vessel, a polyglot pack of sea sweepings united only in viciousness. A shaven-headed black of some Kushite tribe stood next to a hooknosed Shemite. At their feet sat a quiet, deadly Stygian next to a yellowhaired Gunderman, somehow strayed from his landlocked frontier district. Several others made up the group, most prominent among them a tall, lean Poitainian who wore knee-length breeks of red silk and a wide sash of Kothian cloth-of-gold. The group watched Gopal with broad grins until Kasavo emerged from his quarters with a predatory gleam in his eye.
The Poitainian caught the look and Kasavo nodded, jerking his head
toward the squatting Vendhyan. With a vicious grin the Poitainian strode on bare feet toward Gopal.
Gopal, still squatting, was drying his hands on a scrap of cloth when a pair of silk-draped knees appeared at his eye level. Before he could stand, a bare foot kicked over his bucket, drenching his legs and loincloth. Slowly, Gopal stood, smiling as obsequiously as ever. 'Was my pail in your way? I am so sorry, my friend. I must be more careful.'
The Poitainian grinned as Gopal stood and he poked a grimy forefinger into the Vendhyan's hairless chest. 'Sorry, are you? Well, sorry isn't good enough. Vendhyan, how would you like to play a game?' He turned toward his friends and smiled viciously, happy to be the centre of attention.
'A game, master?' Gopal said with a toothy smile. 'A game like king-is-dead? I can play that. We can make a playing board here on the deck, and use fishing sinkers for men.'
'No, no,' said the Poitainian, shaking his head and speaking with broad mock gravity. 'What I have in mind is a more active game.'
'Active, master?' Gopal said with a look of mystification.
'Yes. Can you dance, foreigner?'
'Dance, master?'
'Yes, dance, you fool!' the Poitainian shouted impatiently. From his sash he drew a broad-bladed poiniard of Zamoran design, etched upon the blade with prayers to Mitra, but with an edge of irreligious keenness.
Playfully, he poked the point toward Gopal's bare belly.
'Master, what does this mean?' Gopal pleaded.
'It means I want you to dance!' The Poitainian lunged and Gopal saved himself only by a nimble leap backward. Jaganath emerged from the cabin and surveyed the proceedings serenely. By now everyone except the steersman had gathered around the main deck to watch the fun.
'Oh, I see!' said Gopal. 'You mean to dance like this?' He drew his small dagger and held it as if he were about to hand it to the Poitainian. It was thin and slightly curved, keen on both edges.
'Like what?' said the Poitainian, slightly disconcerted. Then, seeing the smallness of the Vendhyan's dagger: 'Very well, landlubber, if you'd like to match blades, let us dance!'
He crouched slightly, belly sucked in and dagger held out before him, with his thumb on the crossguard against the flat of the blade. This was the guard position taught by Poitainian weaponmasters, and his left hand was raised slightly above the position of the right, ready to block or grip his enemy's weapon hand. This, too, was in accordance with the Poitainian theory of dagger fighting.
Gopal, still smiling, held his little knife so tentatively that he seemed almost on the point of dropping it. 'I am most ignorant of your dances, master,' Gopal said. 'Please, of your goodness, give me a lesson.'
The Poitainian, suddenly aware that he was in mortal danger, was more than a little nonplused. Still, the eyes of his comrades were upon him, and he did not want to appear intimidated by this little eastern book scholar. 'Well, first, you must look to your throat!' Abruptly, he lunged, the blade licking out toward Gopal's neck, but the Vendhyan was no longer there.
Delicately, Gopal stepped in under the blade. To the other crewmen the Poitainian's lunge had been blindingly swift. In any other shipboard brawl it would have spelled the end to the fight. To Gopal, trained by the best of Vendhya's master assassins, the lunge was impossibly slow and clumsy. He evaded it so easily that he felt a keen sense of disappointment, then he slipped in and swept his blade across the exposed belly before him. Then he stepped back.
The Poitainian looked down stupidly as the thin red line at his waist widened and his intestines began to emerge. Gopal reached out delicately and grasped a handful of entrails. 'Now we can dance, my friend!' Gopal pulled, and a ghastly coil of bowels tumbled to the deck. The Poitainian, as if in a trance, tried to follow Gopal and dropped his dagger, trying to use both hands to stuff his entrails back into his belly. Gopal laughed and continued to lead him around the deck, laughing and encouraging him. In the end, Gopal stood by the rail and cast the huge loop of intestines into the sea. The Poitainian, now totally mindless, dived in, as if by that expedient he might repair his destroyed body.
Gopal laughed loud and long. 'I like these games!' He looked around
the deck, to be met with the bleak stares of the crew. 'Will no one else play with me? Surely, someone else must wish to teach the foolish outlander a lesson!'
T
he shaven-headed Kushite sprang forth, holding the short-handled spear of his nation. 'You slew my shipmate! Die, landsman!' He thrust mightily, but Gopal stepped lightly around the broad spearpoint and thrust delicately. The curved blade went in just below the Kushite's ear, cutting in no more than an inch, but it was sufficient. From the small cut emerged a fountainmg torrent of blood. The black tried to cover the fount with his hand, but it was futile. Within seconds he collapsed onto the deck, with his blood staining the wood in a widening stream.
Others now rushed in. An ugly Argossian blundered in, swinging a short club. Gopal sidestepped nimbly and slit the man's throat in passing.
A Zingaran thrust with a long, narrow sword of curious design. Gopal avoided it adroitly by turning slightly and sucking in his belly. A swift stab beneath the chin and into the brain killed the Zingaran instantly.
Now the pirates were drawing back toward the rails, leaving as much distance as possible between themselves and Gopal. The only one to stand his ground was Kasavo himself. The captain drew his short sword and advanced warily, balanced on the balls of his feet. 'Try your eastern tricks on me, little man,' he hissed. 'See how much good they do you!' He feinted toward Gopal's face, then lowered his point to plunge his steel into the Vendhyan's bowels.
Gopal ignored the feint and stepped forward, twisting his body slightly, allowing the point to pass through empty air. His blade swept delicately across the captain's wrist and the sword clattered to the deck. Kasavo jumped back, gripping his wrist to stop the bleeding. His fingers would not move. Gopal had severed the tendons. 'No one man can fight a whole crew!' Kasavo snarled. 'Kill them both!'
With a howl all of his men drew steel and began to close in. Gopal stood where he was, unafraid.
'Hold!' The order crackled through the air with immense authority.
Helplessly, the men stopped their advance and stared with fear-widened eyes at Jaganath, who now stood upon the fantail. He seemed to have gained a cubit in height, and an aura of sorcerous light shone around him.
From his mouth emerged a stream of low, guttural words, oddly cadenced.
The faces of the men grew slack, and their weapons fell clattering to the deck.
'Bind them, nephew,' Jaganath instructed. 'Leave four or five free to handle the ship.'
While the crew stood apathetically, Gopal collected short lengths of rope and trussed them up securely. The five who were to handle the ship received special attention from the mage. With the blood of the fallen he traced certain symbols upon their brows, muttering incantations the while. He then freed the others of his spell. Immediately, they began howling in demented fear, tugging at their unyielding bonds. To no avail, for Gopal was as clever with ropes as he was with his dagger.
'Peace, gentlemen, peace,' said Jaganath, his beatific smile restored. 'I have selected you for a signal honour. This very night you are to make the acquaintance of certain very powerful beings. I know that you must look forward to this with keen anticipation, for men in your profession seldom have the opportunity to mix with the great ones of this world. Or any other, for that matter.' At this he laughed until his huge belly shook.
Throughout the rest of the day Jaganath made his preparations, assisted by Gopal. The crew sat stupefied by horror as the Vendhyans took one of their number and cut his still-living body into several pieces, using the selected portions of his anatomy for rites conducted at various parts of the ship, where Jaganath had drawn complicated designs upon the deck with fresh blood. All was in readiness by the setting of the sun.
'It annoys me to have to do this, nephew,' said Jaganath. 'These complicated rites and the calling up of the powers of the deep are trivial things, suited to a novice sorcerer. I had thought that I had done with these things many years ago, when my studies advanced into the truly great realm of wizardry. However, we must have fair winds and calm seas for the next step of our journey. To be sure of those, I must summon He Who Dwells in the City Beneath the Sea.' He pronounced this title in the secret tongue of the highest order of wizards, and the timbers of the ship shuddered to the reverberations of the name.
As the gibbous moon rose above the waves, Jaganath stood in the prow of the ship, arms raised and voice chanting horribly in a language never meant for human tongue. The captain and crew of the Songbird huddled wretchedly amidships as the sea all around the-hull began to glow an
unearthly green.
From time to time immense humped forms broke the surface within a few yards of the ship, then sank beneath the water once more, leaving behind only a hideous stench, the essence of all the foulness and corruption upon the ocean floor. Great tentacles, slimy and iridescent, coiled and looped over the waves, slapping the surface before slithering below. Once, a long, serpentlike form swam around the ship, half a league of serrated back rising and plunging before it disappeared. Its head and tail never became visible.
Although the sea was turbulent and foamy as far as vision could reach, the ship floated placidly in an unnatural patch of calm water. Gradually, the green glow of the water was transformed to a lurid blood red. The lesser beings of the deep ceased to appear and the waves became quiet.
A shadow darkened the glowing water, shapeless and vast. Slowly, it grew larger, as if some unthinkably huge creature were arising from the farthest depths of the sea. The shadow widened until it seemed impossible that it could be made by any living thing.
Then it broke surface. A titanic, humped shape arose from the water, and the sea cascaded from its sides in foaming torrents. Big as an island, it continued to rise until its crest was far higher than the tip of the mast.
The rounded bulk was corrugated like an eroded hill, and it was splotched and rough, with dense growths of barnacle and coral. Smaller creatures crawled or scuttled amid its growths and protuberances.
A cluster of insanely glaring eyes appeared, and below them a wide, toothless mouth mat slobbered a foaming green scum. Last of all appeared a cluster of hundreds of tentacles that seemed to completely encircle the thing's horrid bulk. Coming from it was a stench so awful that all that had gone before was trivial by comparison. The prisoners who had not yet passed out from fear retched helplessly upon the deck.
Jaganath's chanting continued, and after a few minutes the thing from the bottom of the sea began to respond, its flabby lips working in an obscene parody of human speech, its voice a rumble so deep that it did not register upon the human ear as sound but rather was felt in the flesh and bones. In its horrible fashion it was speaking the same words as Jaganath.
This unnatural communication continued until the moon was high, then it stopped abruptly.
In silence the thing came closer to the ship until its cluster of eyes stared down into the knot of insanely gibbering men who writhed helplessly against their bonds in a futile effort to get away from this horror.
'You now have the privilege,' Jaganath said, 'of entertaining my guest at dinner.'
A tentacle slipped over the rail and wrapped itself about the waist of a shrieking man. It raised him high, holding him close to the eyes, like a man examining some exotic delicacy before tasting it. Other tentacles took him by the limbs and, one at a time, tore them off, thrusting them into its gaping mouth. Last of all it twisted his head off, ending his sufferings, and held up the limbless carcass like an obscene wineskin, squeezing it dry of blood and then popping it, too, into its mouth.
One by one it consumed the rest of the crew in the same fashion, last of all taking the unfortunate Kasavo. Gopal had given the man a drug to ensure that he would not pass out from the horror of the proceedings, but his face was perfectly mad even before the creature began to dismember him.
When all was done, the thing from the deep spoke a single word to Jaganath, then slowly sank beneath the surface. A broad, churning whirlpool marked its passing, then the red glow faded as the shadow shrank in its descent. Soon all was calm again, and the moon shone down placidly upon the ship that sailed the calm waters. Mindlessly, the spared ones c
ontinued to work the vessel, having taken no notice of the past hours.
'I had never thought to see the great god of the deep,' said Gopal when he felt he could trust his voice to be steady. Never before had his uncle allowed him to witness such a thing.
'That was not the great one,' Jaganath corrected. 'This was one of his minions. The great god sleeps in his city beneath the sea. Even I, as I am now, could not bear the sight of him! Soon, though, I may be able to speak to him as an equal. Surely, the events which lie before us shall rouse him from his age-long slumber.'
'If this was, as you say, a trivial matter for such as you,' Gopal said in wonderment, 'then my mind reels at the thought of the power you
command already.'
'Yes,' Jaganath said complacently, 'I am already one of the greatest of mages. Soon I shall be greatest of all, and infinitely more powerful than I am now. 1 am somewhat fatigued, nephew. Let us sleep now. These slaves will sail the ship safely. Tomorrow we shall be near Kordava.'
The next morning, within sight of the city, the mage and his nephew lowered a ship's boat into the water and deposited their belongings into it.
As they rowed away from the ship, the automatons hauled the yard around and set sail to the west.
'What will they do now?' Gopal asked.
'They will sail until they are far from sight of land. Then, in obedience to my instructions, they will fire the ship and burn or drown with her.''
Gopal set himself to the oars and began pulling strongly for shore.
'What shall be our story when we reach the port?'
'We need none. I shall simply render us invisible as we enter. Kordava is a large port, and there will be much shipping there. All will assume that we have come in on one of the vessels. That way we do not need to make up a story of a disaster at sea to explain our arriving in a small boat. After all, we wish to take passage on another ship, and we do not want to arrive with a reputation for bad luck at sea, do we?' At this both men laughed loud and long.
In the great hall of Starkad, the Vanir chieftain was holding revel for his fighting men. Along the benches the Vanir warriors sang and drank ale or mead from silver-mounted oxhorns and ripped great dripping hunks of half-raw meat from the bones of boar and stag with their strong teeth.
The Conan Chronology Page 174