'So,' Conan said. 'Many things become clear now.' His sword point was level with her throat. Ordinarily he never drew steel against a woman, but he had never encountered one as uniquely deadly as this one. 'No wonder those bandits I rescued you from were so well mounted. Their job was to present a sham ravishment, then get away as fast as they could.'
'Of course,' she said, her voice colder than any steel. 'I followed you and Piris from that tavern in Belverus, and I eavesdropped upon your meeting. I knew instantly that you were one of those foolish men who would go out of his way to rescue a woman, and then feel himself to be her protector.''
Conan laughed hollowly. 'As if you ever needed a protector. So it was you and Piris and Asdras who stole the scorpion from Casperus?''
'No!' Piris insisted. 'The scorpion is mine!' 'It belongs to whoever can keep it,' Altaira said. 'And we had it for a while. Yes, I planned to get the scorpion from the fat man. I sent Asdras ahead to Sicas, but Piris, who is far cleverer than you, Conan, would not leave my side and was too cautious to give me a chance to kill him. So I passed the idol to Mulvix, who was headed to Sicas with his caravan. He did not know what it was and always went by the smuggler's code, that a smuggler does not pry into the cargo he has agreed to deliver. He delivered it to me here as promised.' 'And she planted false evidence on me to have me thrown into
the dungeon before I could chase her down!' Piris said indignantly.
'I should have known,' Conan said ruefully. 'All the way. here, and after we arrived, you kept getting word of this 'sister' of yours, but never when I was with you.'
'That is because your brain is in your sword arm, Cimmerian,' she said. 'A more intelligent man would have noticed.'
Conan shrugged philosophically. 'I have ever been a fool where women are concerned. That you gulled me I do not hold against you. It is every man's duty to look out for himself. But I take it amiss that you took advantage of my better nature.'
'What do you mean?' she asked, clearly perplexed.
'It would be useless to explain it to you. The miners who live near here understand these things better.''
'I think you have gone mad,' she said.
'That first night,' Conan said, 'when you brought me here to the Wyvern . . . you had been down here first. You summoned Asdras outside and stabbed him. Then, all innocence, you dragged me down here so we could 'discover' him. One less with whom to share the scorpion.'
'And when we went to the Temple of Bes,' Piris said, 'she followed and set her hired rogues upon us. And just in case that should not be enough, she set the Reeve to arrest us and clap us in the dungeon here.'
'But you could not foresee,' Conan said to her, 'that the rich spice merchant would buy me out of jail to rescue his daughter from the Temple of Mother Doorgah.'
'Ah, is that what happened?' she murmured. 'Truly, I could not keep track of everything.'
'You acted strangely,' Conan said, 'when I told you of my interview with Casperus. It was the only time you allowed your mask to slip with me. When you realised your mistake, you seduced me to distract my mind from your mistake.'
'Seduced you!' she said. 'Does a mare need to seduce a stallion?'
'I would never have let that happen,' sniffed Piris.
'That I do not doubt one whit,' Conan said. Then, to Altaira: 'And when Mulvix came to our rooms at the inn, he was not dying as he climbed the stairs, was he? You had left him word of how to find you, and he came straight to you, and to your dagger. Then you took some of the blood and left it on the walk and on the stairs so that it would look as if he had trailed it all the way up. Why did you not take the scorpion then?'
She made an eloquent movement of her beautiful white shoulders. 'Piris was here, Casperus was still here. I had yet to deal with them, and when you hold the scorpion, it is not easy to manage anything else. I knew that you were trustworthy and stupid. You would hide it for me until I should want it back.'
'And hide it I did,' said Conan, grinning. 'Have you any idea where?'
'Wretch!' she cried. 'Where is it?' 'Why should I tell you?' he asked.
'Well,' she said, her voice turning conciliatory, 'I can see that I was wrong about you, Conan. I had thought you a simple, brainless savage. But, truthfully, you do have a brain in that head of yours, and you have been playing games in this town as subtle as my own. In fact, you and I could prosper mightily together.' 'Too late, Brita, or Altaira, or whatever your real name is,' said Conan. 'I know too much about you now, and no man who values his life would come near you. But tell me this: What is your story about the scorpion?''
'I suppose that this fool and the fat man have told you about what a great, magical idol it is?' 'They did,' Conan affirmed, 'each in his own way.' 'Well, they both lied,' she said. 'You have held it. How did it feel?'
'Heavy,' replied Conan.
'Of course it is heavy. Nothing is weightier than gold, and of all gold, the heaviest is white gold!'
'White gold!' Conan exclaimed. The metal was all but legendary. White gold was to silver what silver was to lead. Its brilliance was incomparable, and it was esteemed by goldsmiths as
the noblest of metals. Most commonly, its value was pegged at ten times the worth of an equal weight of the finest gold.
'Aye,' she said. 'It is no ancient idol, no black diamond fallen from the heavens. It was cast no more than five hundred years ago as tribute from the king of Keshan to the priest-king of Stygia. In those days, Selkhet was the preeminent goddess of Stygia, the patroness of the royal house, and the king of Keshan, wishing to curry favour, gathered the white gold from the royal treasury and had it cast into this image and sent to Khemi, the capital.
'Not long after that, it was stolen. It has turned up over the years, and early in this time it acquired its present guise. It was coated with a black enamel, an amalgam made from powdered obsidian.'
'Not a magical talisman, eh?' said Conan, thinking of the very odd happenings in the temple of Mother Doorgah.
'Not at all,' she said. 'But what it is, is the most valuable single object on earth. Its value is incalculable, and it could make both of us rich beyond our wildest dreams.'
'She lies!' Piris shrieked. 'It belongs to my family! And it is unthinkably ancient and magical.'
'Oh, be quiet, both of you,' Conan said. He brandished his blade and the two stood back. 'I no longer care what the damned thing is. I want nothing to do with it, though it be made of white gold and give the owner eternal youth to boot.'
'But you promised to deliver the scorpion to me,' Piris squeaked. 'You accepted my pay!'
'So I did,' Conan said, 'although I assuredly would not have undertaken the task had you given me the full story of your 'treasure.' Not for a mere thousand dishas, at any rate,' he amended.
'That is immaterial,' Piris protested. 'You gave me your word!'
'I did that, to my regret,' Conan said. 'And lead you to it I shall.' He turned to the woman.
'Tell me one thing: Did you kill Delia?'
'Delia?' she said. 'You mean Maxio's slut? I did not even
know she was dead.' As near as Conan could judge, she was telling the truth.
'What?' exclaimed Piris, his eyes gone wide in mock amazement. 'You mean there is someone in this town she hasn't stabbed?'
'Listen to me, you two,' Conan said. 'I have matters to attend to. I am leaving you now. If you would have the scorpion, meet me at noon tomorrow in the Square, before the theatre.'
'You will leave me here alone with this she-demon?' Piris asked indignantly.
'I did not undertake to be your bodyguard,' Conan said. 'You two may kill each other for all I care. But if it is advice you want, I suggest that you come to an agreement. And now I bid you both good evening.' He backed through the doorway and shut the door. From the other side of the painted cockatrice, he heard the two voices resume their squabbling.
As he descended to the common room, something occurred to him. He went back to the bar and summoned the barkeep.
&n
bsp; 'Were you here a bit more than a month ago, when the Reeve's brother was stabbed upstairs?'
'Aye,' said the barkeep, wiping out a jack with a filthy rag. 'I think that was the only time Bombas ever showed his fat face in the Pit, when he came down to claim the body, surrounded by his worthless men.'
'Who discovered the body?' the Cimmerian asked. 'It was Julus,' said the barkeep. 'That was just after old Lisip drove him out for skimming. He went to work for Bombas right after Burdo was murdered.'
'Aye, I thought it might be something like that,' Conan said. 'What's that?' said the barkeep, but once again he was addressing Conan's broad, armoured back.
From the Wyvern the Cimmerian made his way through the dark streets to the Temple of Bes. When he presented himself, one of the Shemitish guards conducted him to the crypt and opened the river door for him. He stepped out onto the riverbank
and made his way around the confluence of the rivers to the bridge. He climbed the abutment to the roadbed and set out at an easy walk.
He reached the ridge overlooking the miner's village in less than two hours. Despite the late hour, he saw several high-burning fires around the perimeter of the village. He walked down to the nearest blaze and three men, armed with crude spears, stepped forward to challenge him.
'Who goes . . . it's the Cimmerian!' Grinning, the rest came forward.
'Is Bellas here?' Conan asked.
'Nay, but he shall be,' said one. A boy was sent to fetch the head man. A few minutes later, he arrived.
'Ask what you will of us,' the man said simply.
'Would you see an end to all this business?' Conan asked.
'Aye, with every breath I draw, I would like to see that.'
'Then come all of you to the Square tomorrow, a little past noon. Come armed.'
'That we shall!' said Bellas, and the rest cheered.
'Do not celebrate just yet,' said Conan. 'It will be a hard fight this time. Ermak's men.'
'Good,' said Bellas. 'The last fight but whetted our appetite for revenge.'
'Then you'll have your fill tomorrow,' Conan promised. 'Remember, wait until just a little past noon, then come into the town. Force the river gate if you have to, but if you move swiftly enough, the dodderer on guard will have no time to shut and bar it.'
'We shall do as you say,' Bellas said.
'I will see you tomorrow, then,' said Conan. Moving like a ghost, he disappeared from the circle of firelight.
The Cimmerian walked back toward the town, but when he reached the river, he did not cross. He had no doubt that he could scale the low river wall easily, but he had no wish to do so. He had run out of safe havens in the town, some lair where he could enjoy a night's uneventful sleep. Instead, he walked into a nearby copse of trees and rolled himself into his cloak. He adjudged from the height of the moon that he had a good two or three hours before daylight. The morrow promised to be a busy day, and he knew that he would need to be alert. Within minutes, he was asleep.
XIX
The Final Battle
He crossed the bridge as the sun rose on what promised to be a fine, clear day. The gatekeeper was surprised to see a traveller waiting without as he opened the portal on creaky hinges. This was a man Conan had not seen before, younger than most of them but graced with a peg leg, and bearing a hook where his left hand
should have been.
'If it were you, stranger,' the man warned, 'I'd not come
into this town on this day.'
'Why not?' asked Conan, passing through. He tossed a coin, which the man caught adroitly with his remaining hand.
'Because there's a big fight brewing today. The gangs've sulked all night, and I hear they're going to have it out once and for all
in the Square.'
'That should be a fine show,' Conan said. 'I must go find a
good place from which to watch.'
'As you will,' the man said. He took a tablet from his belt and opened it, balancing the thing on his good knee and extracting a stylus from its resting place behind his ear. 'Name and business?'
Conan tossed the man another coin, which was caught just as adroitly as the first, though the hand was burdened with the stylus. The guard shrugged and put away the tablet.
'And now I have advice for you, friend,' said Conan.
'What might it be?' the man asked.
'Start looking for a job. You will need a new one soon.'
The man shrugged resignedly. 'I can always go back to begging.'
Conan walked through the Pit's deceptive early morning quiet. He passed into the newer part of town. The Square was entirely deserted. For once, no one had come to set up a stall. Word was all over the town that it was a day for battle and that this time it would not be merely an amusement for spectators.
When Conan entered the common room, the innkeeper gaped and hurried to his side.
'Cimmerian, you must be careful! Julus has been here a number of times, seeking for you. I think the Reeve wants to clap you in his dungeon.'
'Bombas and his dogs will be far too busy this day to trouble over me,' Conan assured him. 'What concerns me now is not the Reeve or his lackeys, but breakfast!'
The innkeeper shook his head. 'You are mad, like everyone else in this town, but have it as you will. Seat yourself and eat your fill. It may be your last meal, if the town gossip is to be believed.'
Conan sat at a table where a newly arrived lot of caravanners made way for him. He laid in a substantial breakfast, not because he thought it might be his last, but because he was hungry and because he knew that soon he might have to flee the town, and he had no idea of when he would eat again. When his appetite was satisfied, he beckoned a serving boy to his side.
'What would you, master?' asked the boy, eyeing the Cimmerian's stalwart frame and gleaming armament with envy. Conan gave him directions to the house where Casperus was staying.
'Tell the fat man,' Conan instructed, 'or the ill-favoured lout with two swords, these words: 'Conan of Cimmeria has what you want. Meet him before the great theatre on the Square at noon and he will lead you to it. If you do not come as instructed, our agreement is at an end.' Now, lad, repeat that to me.' The boy repeated it accurately, twice. 'Good,' Conan approved, tossing him a coin. 'Be off with you.'
The boy left upon his errand, and Conan passed some time trading stories with the caravanners. He was most interested to learn of the doings in the other areas of Aquilonia, where the barons were defying the king.
He went to his room and found his belongings as he had left them. These he packed; then he went to the adjoining room, where Brita had stayed. There was no trace that said she had ever
been there.
'I wonder,' he said to himself, 'how the wench managed to
change the colour of her eyes.'
Carrying the saddlebags, he descended the stairs and went to the stable, where he saddled his horse and tied the bags behind the cantle. He rolled up his cloak and tied it there as well. 'Do you ride out today, sir?' asked the stableman. 'Not just yet,' Conan said. 'But soon. I want the horse to remain saddled thus, and tethered here, just inside the doorway. Will you see to that?' He handed the man a coin.
'Oh, aye, sir. You are not the first to stay here who wished to be ready to leave at a second's notice. The lady will not be going
with you?'
'No, she will not. Has the horse had water and grain?'
'Aye, early this morning.'
'Good. Give it no more.' A foundered horse would be of no
use to a fleeing man.
He left the stable and stood in the courtyard, studying the sun. It was almost noon. He walked out into the street and began to walk toward the Square. The street was deserted, but many eyes observed him from behind shutters. People stood on balconies and on rooftops, and all watched the Cimmerian silently. He walked with easy confidence, his only sound the occasional clicking of a massive bracelet against sword or dagger hilt. He walked
slowly, for he h
ad no wish to arrive betimes and have to hang about the Square, where he could not remain unseen for long.
When he rounded the corner of the theatre, he did not proceed into the Square but, rather, climbed its steps and stood within the gloomy shade of its portico, watching the events. The far end of the square, where the Reeve had his headquarters, was already swarming with men. Fighting had not yet commenced, but men stood about in groups of varying size, waving their weapons and shouting.
Ermak's men massed in a compact formation before the headquarters of Bombas. The Reeve must have bribed them to support him, Conan thought. Then he espied Casperus and Gilmay as they came into the Square from a side alley. They looked to be apprehensive and indignant, but the fat man radiated greed that could be felt even at a distance. Soon they were before the theatre, looking about, but they did not glance up the steps to where the Cimmerian stood.
People crowded the rooftops of the buildings ringing the Square; no one was able to resist the prospect of such a spectacle. They would regret their eagerness to see blood flow, Conan thought, should those buildings be set afire. Then he saw two people come across the Square from the direction of the Pit. One was a black-haired woman, the other a small man who wore luridly coloured clothing. Conan could almost smell the lilacs. Gilmay was first to catch sight of them.
'You two!' he cried. 'How came you here?'
'We came at the Cimmerian's invitation,' said Altaira with a withering curl of her scarlet lip. 'As, I have no doubt, did the two of you.'
'Ah-h,' said Casperus, smiling. 'Now we are all together again, except for our poor dear Asdras, who, as I am given to understand, has escaped the sufferings of this transitory life for the undoubted pleasures of the life to come.'
'He will soon have much company in that life.' said Conan descending the stair. They all turned at the sound of his voice.
'Ah, what a clever fellow you are, sir,' said Casperus. 'Now you expect us to bid against each other for the idol, not so?'
'No,' Conan said. 'I have come to lead you to it, as I agreed. How you decide who is to have possession is your affair.'
The Conan Chronology Page 569