'Thus far,' Conan said.
'Excellent, sir, excellent. Selkhet is an unthinkably powerful creature from who knows what distant star, but in Stygia she is portrayed in one of three ways: as a beautiful woman wearing a headdress crowned with the image of a scorpion, as a scorpion with the head of a woman, or simply as a scorpion. Now, what know you of Python?' He laced his fingers upon his capacious belly, and the candlelight winked luridly from the rings decorating the pudgy digits.
'A city of ancient legend, the capital of long-perished Acheron.'
'Very good. Now, the people of Acheron were close relatives of the Stygians of today. Both were descended from the people of yet more ancient Lemuria. Acheron was their northern kingdom, Stygia the southern. Ah, sir, if you could only have seen purple-towered Python! I have, in mystic visions, and I can assure you that the most gorgeous cities of today are but poor and shabby places compared to Python. Its extent was ten times that of Luxur, the greatest city of Stygia; its obelisks were high enough to pierce the moon! Its wealth was beyond imagining, and its mages and
priests the most powerful the world has ever seen.' His voice took on a tone of sadness, but it was the tone of a professional storyteller.
'As the millennia turned in their immemorial rotation, Acheron grew decadent, and most of its magical lore was forgotten.' The barbarian Hybori overwhelmed the degenerate heirs of a once-l great empire and scattered them like chaff before the storm. Many of the Acheronians fled south, to take refuge with their cousins, the Stygians. Stygia, unlike Acheron, was at the height of its! power and stopped the Hybori at the Styx, which they were never to cross in all the centuries since that time. Now we come to the meat of the matter.''
'And about time,' Conan grumbled. The merchant went on I as if he had not heard the rude comment.
'Much of the early part of this tale is related in the Book of Skelos, but you must understand that much of that most powerful I of tomes was writ down in a raving delirium, leaving considerable doubt as to sequence and meaning, although every bit of it is reliable, and is understandable to a great mage, which I haven already told you I am not.'
Conan suppressed a groan. This was just the early part of the tale?
'Among the Pythonian refugees were the priests of Selkhet. This once rich and powerful priesthood was sadly reduced, its temples and treasuries seized by the savage Hybori, able to bear away only such books as they could carry in their arms. These were sad times for them, but they found a protector in the god-king of that day, Khopshef the One Hundred Seventy-third. He gave them the town now known as Khet, the City of Scorpions, with broad lands extending from the river far into the desert. Of course their goddess had to accept a subordinate role. The cult of Set, the Old Serpent, was already predominant in Stygia and would brook no rival.
'In gratitude for this munificence, the priests of Selkhet crafted an image of their goddess as a gift to the god-king. It was to be no ordinary image. First, they set out to find the greatest sculptor
'I the age. This was a man named Ekba, who was a servant of die king of Budhra, a kingdom of that time of which nothing now is known save its name. He was quite mad and therefore suitable for the project. The priests ordered him to create an image of the Goddess as a scorpion with a woman's head, and they subjected him to many spells and rituals to provide him with the correct inspiration. He was to have whatever materials he desired, however rare or valuable.
'These materials proved to be most remarkable; two years were inquired just to assemble them all. Many heroes of the day, men whom I fancy must have been much like yourself, sir, occupied themselves with the quest for these items, and many of them died in the attempt. Ekba demanded the bones of a living princess, the organs of a certain dragon, a pearl of a sort found only in Khitai, and so on. All of these substances were reduced to powders and mixed with the metal of the idol. For ten more years Ekba laboured over the image, spending much time in prayer and ritual, seeking the true vision. He made many attempts to cast the figure, but was unsuccessful. The priests had to guard him at all times, for he frequently attempted suicide.
'At last, Ekba in his despair demanded that he be given a terrible decoction of the black lotus. It is a potion employed only by the greatest mages when attempting the most powerful of spells. With reluctance, the priests agreed and prepared the potion. Ekba drank it and fell into a swoon that lasted ten days and nights, dead to any but the practised eye of a mage.
'When he awoke, he was a man possessed. He ordered that all of his materials be taken from his studio to the very sanctuary of the goddess. There he shut and barred the doors and began his final labour. For twenty days he worked without food or drink, and many were the uncanny sounds that emerged from the temple, heard only by the ears of the priests who surrounded the building. On the final midnight, as the moon reached its zenith over the temple, a terrible scream was heard from inside.
'The priests battered open the doors and rushed within. There they found, on a pedestal, the superb image of their goddess.
Below the pedestal lay the body of Ekba, an expression of unspeakable horror upon its countenance. It had been injected so full of venom that within minutes of the discovery, it exploded from the internal pressure of its bloating.' The fat man seemed to take a certain satisfaction in this grisly revelation.
'Needless to say, the god-king found the image a wholly fitting gift, and he built a shrine in his palace to house it. Now, the image was not valuable for its material, for it was made of basal metal, mostly bronze. Many valuable substances had been incorporated into it, but they had been reduced to powders of no intrinsic worth. No, good sir, what made this image so precious was the tremendous magical power that infused it. For centuries, the god-kings of Stygia employed the scorpion image in their most I esoteric rites, and fora time, the priests of Selkhet enjoyed special! favour and patronage.
'However, even in that haunted kingdom, time goes on and nothing is immutable. The power of Set grew and that of other! gods waned. Less and less often was the image of Selkhet utilized, and her priests fell from power. The Years of Dissolution! came: three centuries when Stygia broke up into warring provinces, the leader of each claiming the mantle of god-king, and great battles were fought both on the ground and on the magical plane.
'The few priests who tended the palace shrine did not want the image to be captured by one of the warring factions, so they moved it to the royal crypt to replace the guardian figure of the goddess that previously resided there. Then, to disguise it, they covered it with a thick, black lacquer so that it would resemble a common figure of black stone. There they left it.
'In the course of the disruptions, the palace changed hands many times, and it is to be assumed that the priests were killed early in this period, because the true nature of the image was ; forgotten. In time, the palace was abandoned and the desert sands covered it.'
The fat man sat back and peered into his cup, which had grown empty. He remedied this situation, then performed the same service for Conan, who was fascinated with the tale despite his abhorrence of sorcery.
'At some time,' Casperus went on, 'robbers must have tunnelled into the palace to rob its crypts. There are whole villages in Stygia with no livelihood other than the robbing of tombs. They have a great mastery of the counterspells necessary to protect them from the defensive curses laid upon all such sites. It is certain that about five hundred years ago, the black scorpion was in the possession of the wizard Ashtake of Keshan. He had no concept of its full power, but he knew that it was a talisman of importance. It passed to one of his apprentices upon his death and then it disappeared for more than a century. It resurfaced in the Annals of the Family Ashbaal. For many years it appears among the inventories of that family of merchant-princes of Shem. They had no knowledge of its history or of its magical nature, but even with its unsightly coating of lacquer, it is an exquisite work of art. It resided in their treasury for generations, for as valuable as it plainly was, there was
that about it which made the most devoted collectors of art wary.
'The Annals report that the scorpion was stolen, along with much other treasure, when the Argosseans invaded Shem three hundred years ago. It is next mentioned in the memoirs of Elsin Ataro, a high-councillor of King Gitaro the Third of Zingara. This man Ataro was, like me, a dabbler in both art and magic. He knew that the scorpion was more than a fine work of art, wonderful as it was in that capacity. By consulting many rare and ancient tomes, he divined something of its true nature. He conjectured that it was the Selkhet image of the ancient god-kings, although of its origins and creation he knew little. When Ataro died, the scorpion was not among the inventory of his effects.
'Eighty years ago the scorpion reappeared in the possession of the famous wizard Shamtha of Shadizar. How the scorpion fared to Zamora is unknown. The mage became obsessed with the thing and spent many years seeking to unlock its secrets. He attempted numerous magical experiments with it, and he left behind a most unique manuscript detailing his efforts, which came
into my possession some years ago. One evening, upon the rising of the gibbous moon, Shamtha attempted a last experiment, the nature of which is unknown since he did not survive to record the process. What is known is that his tower, which stood upon a rise of ground near his house and in which he conducted his wizardly labours, exploded like a mighty volcano, raining stones all over Shadizar. No trace of either wizard or scorpion was found amid the rubble.
'Fortunately, Shamtha kept his record book in his house, which was only slightly damaged. His heirs decided to have the unique document copied and to sell these copies to any student or practitioner of magic who could pay the rather steep price. It has been widely read in the years since, but only as a curiosity, for it was believed that the image of Selkhet was destroyed in the mighty upheaval that shattered the tower of Shamtha.' 'But it was not?' Conan asked.
'Decidedly not. Almost forty years ago the image came into the hands of Melcharus of Numalia, a dealer in antiquities and works of art.' Hands on knees, Casperus leaned forward and spoke with great emphasis. 'That man was my father, and as a boy, I actually saw the fabulous image in the strongroom of his shop! Even as a lad, I was fascinated by something about the image. It drew my thoughts and desires as if by some inner power , of its own.' The fat man's eyes glazed and spittle gathered upon his infantile lips. He was a man speaking of his deepest, most secret lust. 'I would seize every chance to visit the strongroom. As often as I could, I volunteered to dust and polish every object therein. My father thought I was merely being dutiful, but I just wanted an excuse to touch it, to stroke its glossy flanks and gaze upon, even stroke lovingly, the beautiful face of the goddess.' His eyes cleared and he shook himself slightly, like a man emerging from a waking dream.
'One evening,' he went on, 'thieves broke into the strongroom. There were many treasures in that room, but the only thing taken was the scorpion. My father was relieved and thought that they must have been alarmed and fled without taking anything truly valuable, but I knew that they had found exactly what they had come for. I grieved for its loss, but I resolved to learn everything I could about the scorpion.
'To that end, I studied the arts of magic, although, as I have told you, with no ambition to become a great magician. No, I wished to recover the image of Selkhet. I tracked down every possible reference to this single end, and I became the world's greatest scholar .of this one, obscure facet of magical lore. I set many spies and passed many bribes to divine the image's whereabouts. It has been through many hands since the thieves took it from my father's strongroom. It is restless because it has one sterling quality: It causes the death of any incompetent wizard who seeks to use it.'
'Then why,' Conan demanded, 'since it has been the death of great wizards, and you say you are none such yourself, do you wish to own the thing?'
Casperus, hands still on his knees, sat back and laughed until his fat rolled about in the chair as if independent of the man himself.
'Because, sir, when I describe the feelings I had for the object, I describe the feelings of a boy! I was then under its spell, and I thought its beauty and mystery the most desirable things in the world. But I learned better, sir! When I grew to manhood, I discovered that I would never be a great wizard, but I also learned that there is something even better than power, whether it be earthly or sorcerous. Even better than these is great wealth! As a dealer in art objects, I have trafficked with many of the wealthiest people in the world, and I know that they are above worldly laws. They are courted by kings and are the patrons of magicians, who are but their servants. And—' he leaned forward again and resumed his emphatic whisper '—I have determined that the ancient scorpion image of Selkhet is the single most valuable object upon this earth!'
Conan started to speak, but the mage overrode him.
'Think of it, sir. The black scorpion is three things.' He held up a fat hand with one finger extended. 'It is an unthinkably
ancient artefact of a long-dead kingdom, and perfect in every way.' A second, be-ringed finger joined the first. 'It is a work of art as great as any the world has ever known.' The third finger went up. 'It is, perhaps, the most powerful magical talisman in existence. I qualify this last only because it is believed by some that the legendary jewel called the Heart of Ahriman is as puissant, but I do not believe it to be so. In any case, the whereabouts of the Heart have been unknown for three thousand years. Now, when this scorpion is in my hands, I propose to hold a unique auction, an auction for sorcerers and art collectors and those rarefied few who combine both activities. I shall send out missives identifying the work in question, and I shall offer far more than the scorpion itself, sir. There is also the formidable library I have compiled over the years concerning the image. Without this, even a great mage could waste a lifetime seeking to divine the object's secrets. Among these documents is included the original manuscript of experiments compiled by Shamtha, not the imperfect copies hawked by his heirs,
'I will send invitations to all of the greatest sorcerers of this decadent age, to the Order of the White Peacock in Khitai, to Thoth-Amon, and to all the others. I expect to realise the best offer from the current priest-king of Stygia. He is not the equal of his predecessors, the god-kings, but he is still the richest man in the world, and has a notable stake in things sorcerous.'
'Then why not sell to the priest-king,' Conan asked, 'and forget about the others?'
'Because, sir, sorcerers may often have the power to summon and offer things of unique value. It is not unthinkable that a man like Thoth-Amon, who is no king but is yet a much greater sorcerer than the priest-king of Stygia, might be able to offer far more than that king, especially since earthly wealth is of little account to him, whereas sorcerous power is everything.' Once again he slapped fat hands to fat knees. 'In short, sir, I intend to transform the black scorpion into wealth incalculable, sir, wealth incalculable!'
'And what,' Conan demanded impatiently, 'has all this to do with me?'
'I was just about to come to that, sir.'
'And none too soon,' the Cimmerian grumbled.
'In recent years I have traced the scorpion through a long and tedious list of thieves and buyers. An art dealer such as your humble servant establishes many contacts helpful in such a quest. Upon several occasions I have been within days of laying my hands upon it, only to find that it was stolen or sold just before I got within reach of it. Last month, in Belverus, I tracked it to the home of a wealthy dilettante in the sorcerous arts. He would not let me see it and scorned my generous offer. Mind you, the man had no idea of its true worth, and any attempt on his part to employ it sorcerously would inevitably have brought about his own most painful and colourful demise, therefore rendering my acquisition of the image a veritable act of charity. Failing this, I employed an, ah, an agent, as it were, to obtain it for me.'
'And was your thief successful?' Conan asked.
'Sir!' Casperus protested. 'You use an ugly word.'
/> The outlander shrugged. 'I have been a thief in my time. I do not find the word distasteful.!'
'Well, in answer to your question, my agent was all too successful, not only obtaining the scorpion, but fleeing with it. I have reason to believe that it is now, or soon will be, in this very city!'
'And you want me to find the thing for you?' Conan asked.
'Exactly, sir!'
'Then why didn't you say so in the first place?'
For a moment the fat man was nonplussed. 'Why, sir, how could one broach such a subject without the fullest preparation? Even to discuss so wonderful a treasure without first conveying a sense of the full majesty of its origin and powers seems to me little less than sacrilege, sir, sacrilege!'
Conan knew better than to talk sense to a man obsessed. 'Who is this thief, and how should I find him?'
Casperus waved a dismissive hand. 'That is irrelevant. The
idol has changed hands at least twice in the interim. My agent had partners and these, it seems, fell out. However, in this town there is only one possible buyer for the image. He is a man who calls himself Andolla and claims to be a sorcerer. In truth, I suspect him to be a mere charlatan, albeit a rich one. I must keep myself concealed here, or whoever has the image now will flee before even approaching Andolla. I need a man who is. clever, who is a mighty man of arms, and who has a sensible wariness of magical things. In short, sir, I would like to employ you.'
'Now we come to the truly important part of all this,' Conan said. 'How much?'
'I am prepared to offer fifty thousand golden marks of Aquilonia upon delivery of the image into my hands.'
It was a princely sum, but Conan affected to be unimpressed. 'That is paltry if the thing is worth what you say.'
'Only to me, sir, only to me. Were you to seek to sell it to the likes of Thoth-Amon, he would have it from you by force or by sorcery, whereas I know the proper safeguards. The idol has been the death of many men over the millennia. No, sir, I will not be paying you for the image, for it is already mine, and mine alone. I will be paying you for the performance of a few days' work, and fifty thousand golden marks should be more than adequate recompense for such a task. A man of your accomplishments should find it a simple matter. You will not be dealing with great sorcerers, after all, but with mere thieves. I have no doubt that they will have swordsmen in their employ, and it is because of this that I require a champion such as yourself. My bodyguard, Gilmay, is competent to defend me from the common footpads who would prey upon a man of my obvious prosperity, but as you have already discovered, this about exhausts his realm of expertise.'
The Conan Chronology Page 548