"We must stop here for the night," Kailash said, sliding wearily off his horse.
"Nay, let us continue," Conan objected. "The clouds have broken, and the moon will provide enough light for us to see the path."
"Aye, enough to see the path, but what if he turns aside from the path?"
Conan frowned. ""Tis doubtful that he would. A horse could not traverse these mountains without staying on this path. There are too many trees and rocks. While these would present no obstacle to your clansmen or mine, a royal eunuch is no hill-climber. I say we forge ahead, lest he escape us."
Kailash sighed and stared for a while at the sunset. "Lead on," he said finally, climbing back up onto his mount.
They ate while they rode, without making a dent in the provisions that Malgoresh had thoughtfully provided. Conan found a bulging aleskin stuffed into one corner of his food-pack; he uncorked the skin and quickly upended it. The ale was not fresh, but he relished it anyway.
He pa.s.sed the skin to Kailash.
The hillman took a generous swallow and smacked his lips noisily. "When this is over, we must return to Innasfaln and repay our growing debt to Malgoresh. His storytelling is even better than his ale-brewing."
Conan nodded. "I knew not of any Turanians who served in the army of Brythunia. Is he Turanian, or Brythunian?"
"Both," replied Kailash, taking another swig of ale. "Mostly Turanian.
His grandmother was Brythunian, a slave captured by Nemedians and liberated by his grandfather. His mother and father raised him in Sultanapur, by the Vilayet Sea. When he was a boy, they left Turan and journeyed eastward to Zamora, where most of his family still lives, in a village far north of Yezud. Our path may take us near there."
"To Zamora?" Conan asked with interest. "Have you been there before?"
"Years ago," Kailash said. "Malgoresh and I crossed these mountains and went to visit his family. We took a different path, one that cuts through the mountains to the south. We never went as far south as Yezud, a city full of lunatics who worship their spider-G.o.d, Zath. No sane man would traffick with those zealots."
"I was pa.s.sing through your city on my way to Zamora. I have heard many tales of Shadizar and Arenjun, and of the wealth to be found there. I have heard little of Yezud, save rumors and legends."
"The worst of which are true." Kailash shuddered. "An ill-timed visit to that accursed city has shortened many a man"s life span. I pray our trail does not lead there."
"The path has mostly led east, with only a slight southward bend,"
Conan noted. "We may cross into the Kezankians soon, if we do not turn directly south."
"Aye, we are not far from my homeland. Still, the going will be only a little easier in the Kezankian Mountains. Many years have pa.s.sed since I have been there." Kailash"s voice trailed off, as if he were lost in thought. When he spoke again, he changed the subject. "What would you do in Zamora? You are a swordsman, not a thief."
"What a soldier earns for a year of hard fighting, I would make in a day as a thief," Conan answered without shame. "Besides, you saw how much trouble I got into back at your city. Zamora is a lawless place, and its denizens care not where a man is from. The laws and customs of civilized lands are a senseless muddle to me. In Zamora, a man makes laws with his blade. I would carve a comfortable life for myself there."
Kailash shook his head. "Even a lion may be slain if he falls into a den of serpents. If you go to Zamora, watch your back, or it may suddenly sprout dagger-hilts. There are many kinds of thieves there; some of them steal more than gold!"
"Not from a Cimmerian," Conan said confidently.
"Why not return with me to the city?" Kailash offered. "We need a new captain, and the pay is better than you may think." He pointed at the bag of coins tied to Conan"s belt. "You already have seen how generous Eldran can be, and the women..."
Conan shook his head. "Nay. There are women in Zamora, too. Caged in your city, I would grow restless, with nothing to do but crack together a few drunken skulls every day and yell at witless city guardsmen. A ten-year-old boy from my clan could best any of them!"
Kailash was about to protest, but his esteem of the guards was only a little higher than Conan"s. He gave up the conversation and chanced to glance down. He nearly fell off his horse in surprise at what he saw, "Look!"
Conan reined in and turned his mount back. A fresh mound of horse droppings lay on the path near Kailash"s horse.
"Lamici"s mount?" Kailash conjectured.
"Or the spoor of some other traveler"s beast," Conan said, but without conviction.
Both men kicked their horses into a trot, believing that they had picked up Lamiei"s trail again. They strained to watch the path, maintaining as much vigilance as possible under the moon"s faint light.
When the clouds dissipated completely, they could see a few of the brighter stars, looking down on them from the black sky.
They rode on for hours, pushing forward with all the speed they could muster. They saw nothing else to confirm that Lamici had pa.s.sed through, but they stubbornly continued. Finally they agreed to stop and sleep for a few hours, to let the horses rest. Laying down their saddle-blankets, they flung themselves to the ground and were fast asleep in moments.
They were closer to Lamici than they realized. The eunuch had ridden hard after fleeing the village. Half-blinded by the light from the priest"s strange amulet, Lamici had panicked. He had wondered if Conan would pursue him; if he had not been blinded, he would have crouched by the door and waited for the stupid barbarian to come out and feel the deadly sting of his stiletto. His vision had been slow to return, and he had stumbled along the outer wall of the tavern, searching in the dark for the tree where he had tied his horse.
When he had found it, his nerves were screaming in raw fear. He had taken too long; the Cimmerian would be on him like a bloodhound!
Frantically, he had mounted the horse and kicked it into a full gallop.
He had ridden east for several hours before realizing in what direction he was going. His vision had returned, but not his nerve. If he turned around, he risked a head-on confrontation with Conan and any allies the Cimmerian may have with him.
On the other hand, if he continued east, he might find a place wherein to conceal himself. If the Cimmerian pa.s.sed by, Lamici could hide in silence until Conan was safely gone. Satisfied with this plan, he had continued eastward. He soon discovered the problem with this, though: the path afforded no hiding places. On all sides were rocks or closely cl.u.s.tered trees; he had not the strength to climb or break through them. Frustrated, he had kept going, clinging to the idea of finding a safe place in which to hide.
The eunuch made slower progress than Conan and Kailash had; he had far less skill in navigating the difficult path. He still kept his lead, however, since he was not pausing to track as were the other two. He was glad that the rocky trail left few traces of his pa.s.sing, and was careful to steer away from any dirt that would leave a telltale hoofprint.
Now, less than three leagues away from Conan and Kailash, Lamici slept.
Unlike the sound sleep of his pursuers, his rest was troubled by a strange dream. In the dream, he was a small gray mouse in the middle of an open field. The field surrounded him for as far as he could see, affording no cover.
He was being chased. It was nighttime, so he could not discern what was hunting him, but it flew overhead, seeking him out. He heard the leathery sound of its flapping wings, and its shrill, far-off cry. He froze in terror and gazed upward, trying to fathom what pursued him.
All he could see was a huge single eye, bearing down on him. It was dark red, with a black slit of a pupil in the center. He waited for the inevitable doom to descend upon him, unable to move. He felt sharp claws and jagged teeth sinking into his frail form, tearing him to pieces.
Lamici awoke with a scream. He looked up, as he had in the dream, but there was no eye, just the bone-white, neutral orb of the moon.
Trembling, he breathed a sigh of relief. Looking around, he saw only his horse, tethered to a tree. He was about to lie down again when a strange, azure-blue glow caught the corner of his eye.
It came from inside his leather pouch, which lay on the ground beside him. He unwound the cord that secured the pouch"s closing and peered inside. The priest"s amulet was glowing faintly. Lamici frowned, rummaged through his gear for some dark cloth, and wound it around the amulet in several layers. Having stifled the glow, he tucked the strange object back into the pouch. He had just finished tying the cord when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"Good evening, Lamici." A strangely echoing female voice filled his ears. He whirled around to face her.
"Azora!" he cried out in shock. "Here? How-"
""How" is not important. Listen closely to me, and do as I tell you."
The Mutare stood before him, cloaked in black, barely visible in the dark of night. The moon shone on the pale skin of her face, partially shadowed by her cloak"s hood. Beneath the darkness of her hood, he could see her dark red eyes. Her lips gleamed redly in the moonlight, as if smeared with fresh blood. The long sleeves of her cloak covered her hands, and the hem of the cloak rested on the ground.
"Of course, Priestess. I am at your service, as always. I beg of you to answer me one question. Why does Eldran still live?"
"Strong are the forces that protect him. The priest, Madesus, bears a talisman that interferes with my magic."
"No longer, Priestess. I have slain him! Last night, in the village, I struck him down with my envenomed dagger."
"Truly?" Her eyes bored into his, as if she was fathoming the depths of his memory to see if he lied. Then her lips parted in a grim smile of victory, and she laughed chillingly. "Well done, eunuch! Then only one task remains for you. Bring his talisman to me-the amulet he bore. Its powers are ancient and deadly. Without its power, no one-not even a priest of accursed Mitra-can stand before me!"
Lamici smiled. "I have it with me, Priestess. I took it from his dead hand." Triumphantly, he picked up his leather pouch and extracted the cloth-wrapped amulet.
Azora backed away a few paces. "Wait! I cannot look upon it now. It has powers of its own, even without the priest to wield it against me. You must continue along the path you are on, and bear south when you reach the eastern slopes of the Kezankians. Guard the talisman! Bring it to my fortress in the Shan-e-Sorkh. There, I have the power to destroy it."
Lamici"s expression revealed his confusion.
"I am not here in the flesh, you fool!" Azora explained impatiently.
She reached out her hand to the eunuch and pa.s.sed a black-nailed finger completely through him. "You see only a reflection. So vast is my power that I cast it from far away."