Authors: Poul Anderson
Suddenly he tensed. An oath cracked from his lips.
Out of the harbour, spidery-oared, slipped a war galley. Another followed, and another, and another... In midstream they raised sail, caught a westerly breeze but continued rowing against the tide, and moved off between the headlands enclosing the bay, seaward bound.
Conan counted them. 'Why, that must be nearly the whole flaming fleet!' he exclaimed.
His companions, roused by the noise, crowded about him. Where are they going?' Falco cried. 'Has the war on Ophir started?'
'I much doubt that,' said Conan grimly. 'No, likeliest it is us they arc after.'
'Four runaways, causing that small armada to go forth?' Daris sounded incredulous.
'I know not why, but plain it is to see that we matter greatly to Mime powerful persons,' Conan answered. 'I seem to be right in my guess that the wretch who trapped me never thought to tell his masters where we had hidden the boat. Why should he? Nor did I ell you yesterday, in case we were being spied on. Else they need but plant an ambush there. They know, however, that the craft cannot he far off. Thus they have no great stretch to blockade, and are -certain of intercepting us if we sail.' He shrugged. 'They cannot expect to be out for more than a few days. Meanwhile the sailors get exercised.'
'I told you we might lie hidden for a month,' said Jehanan in a dead voice.' Of course, we would wither well before then. Let us plan how sally forth so that we are sure to die fighting.'
Daris shook her dark head violently. 'No! If we can reach the hinterland as you claimed, we can seek a way to – to Taia.'
'Scant hope in that,' Falco replied. 'We would be better off trying for Kush, due south, though the odds against us will still be overwhelming.'
'Why not north, across the river and into Shem?' Conan inquired. 'Even in the parts tributary to Stygia, we should find hiding places and helpers.'
The rest regarded him in surprise. 'Did you not know?' Daris said. 'West of the Taian highlands, the Styx is death to swimmers. Those who try fall mortally ill within a day or two. Even wading across at one of the few fords is dangerous; you must wash tainted water off your skin with fresh, immediately afterward.'
'Well, can we not steal a boat to ferry us over?' Conan snapped.
doubly alert against any such attempt,' Jehanan warned.
Daris leapt to her feet. 'The wingboat!' she shouted.
Conan seized her and hauled her down. 'Keep low,' he growled. 'You might be seen from afar, standing on this brink.'
Her suppleness shivered in his arms, her eyes looked straight into his, and she said in a rush of sweet breath: 'The magical boat that carried me here, I remember where it lies docked – it is lightly guarded and – and kept supplied, and can outrun everything else -'
Conan gripped her till she winced. He eased his hold, but not the excitement that soared aloft in him. 'Can you handle that thing?'
She nodded. 'I paid heed on the way, just to keep my mind from breaking apart in despair.'
'I too!' Falco shrilled. 'The spell is very simple, and you need not be a magician. Ordinary acolytes did the piloting.'
Conan released Daris. A while he crouched, chin in fist, and stared into heaven. A hawk soared there. Finally he nodded, 'Aye, this seems our best hope by far,' he rumbled. 'Unless we can head straight to sea – failing that, we fare to Taia and seek the rebels. We three outlanders get help from them to start us on our treks. Overland to Ophir, thence Jehanan and I onward to Argos, where we will take a boat for a rendezvous with Bêlit.'
'I have a better thought still,' Falco urged. 'Outpacing any word from Khemi, we can stop at Luxur and take refuge in Lord Zarus' embassy. Warned of what I have discovered, he will go home on the first excuse he can contrive. We board his ship in disguise, and he lets you two off at the isle. Daris, of course, can take the wingboat east. Maybe her people will find it useful in their cause.'
'We shall think that over once we have our transportation,' Conan declared. 'For now, we should rest, yes, get some decent sleep.'
Admiration filled the gaze Daris laid upon him. 'As you will,' she murmured. 'You are he who brought us thus far. How?'
Never reluctant to shine before an attractive woman, Conan took his party back into the cave and settled down to relate past events. They heard him breathlessly, though Jehanan showed renewed pain and Falco flushed.
At the end the Shemite nodded. 'Yes,' he said in a sick man's voice, 'everyone in Khemi has heard of Nehekba and how she is hand
I
in glove with Tothapis, the wizard priest of Set. I did not imagine it at the time, but, yes, she must have been my cruel Heterka – and your Senufer, Falco.'
'No!' the youth cried. 'Impossible! If – if you but met her for a single time, you would understand.'
'What have these women looked like?' Daris asked shrewdly.
Her idea failed, because none of her companions had much ability in describe a person in unmistakable words. From their attempts emerged little more than a vague picture of a Stygian female aristocrat, typical except for her beauty. The mirror talisman was a revealing detail.
'But she never wore any such thing, did my Senufer,' Falco said triumphantly. 'There, are you satisfied?'
The Cimmerian gave up. He could not see that it made any difference at present; and the Ophirite would presumably gain a minim of wisdom before time gave him a chance to seek his paramour again. What mattered immediately was to keep this band united. While the plan did hold promise, Conan hardly expected that theft of the black magicians' sacred craft would prove safe or easy.
They left before moonrise. A dry and food-less day had not unduly diminished either strength or alertness in them. All had keen senses and had often stalked game in wild country. The early part of their passage went fast. Later they inched along. By the time the moon cleared the hazes that at first reddened it, the last Stygian picket was behind them and they stood in shadow under a rampart.
'The wingboat has a roofed dock of its own on a short canal that must have been dug for it, west of the city,' Daris had explained. 'A double row of monoliths guards the path to a sally port; I read upon them terrible curses against trespassers when I was marched away. Otherwise I saw only four sentinels.'
Conan had dismissed unease about those curses. Anybody could write a threat on a stone, and the Stygians were utterly subservient to the hierarchy. Were the necromancers really worried about their vessel they would have fenced that path with flames or adders or something else deadly. This he must believe, and otherwise put his trust in... in Mitra?
Now he led the way south, since he dared not cross through the harbour area. Locked gates, a ban on land traffic, ought to keep them unnoticed if they hugged the base as they rounded three fortified sides. The moon was too bright for his liking, but the western ground would be shaded from it.
Halfway along the first wall, a portcullis stood lowered. Conan did not expect sentries at the foot of it after dark. Too valuable to endanger needlessly, they would be aloft in the towers flanking the gate and, if they actually paid much attention to anything, would keep eyes on the horizon. Yet he signalled for redoubled caution as he started past.
A hiss brought him leaping about. Moonlight glistened on the scales of an enormous snake, which undulated forth between the bars. It moved toward him, mouth agape, tongue aflicker. Lidless eyes gleamed in a head raised man-high.
Jehanan drew blade. Daris whispered shakenly, 'A python of Set, after prey. We can run faster than it can crawl.'
'No, both of you,' Conan murmured back. 'Either way, we would make too much noise. Hold off – against the wall – keep silent!'
He poised motionless, as if he were a Stygian who would meekly accept being choked and engulfed. The serpent hissed again and drew nigh. Thunderbolt swift, it struck to seize him in its fangs and throw coils about his body.
Conan's fist met the snout in mid-air. The thud was soft but the pain to that sensitive spot great. The snake went backward in waves. Hope that it would flee broke asunder, for in twisting about it spied f Daris. The man-thick length surged toward her.
Conan sprang. He cast himself on the cold neck, just behind the head, the one place where no rib-crushing loop could reach him. His legs clamped tight. His arms came around the head, his hands gripped the lower jaw and heaved downward. The reptile thrashed in maelstrom violence, but otherwise the struggle was silent, an icy I flowing beneath the moon.
A crack resounded. Conan had ripped the forward part of the mandible free. He clung the tighter to the wildly lashing body, while he brought the bleeding piece above the skull. With all the might that was in him, he smashed its teeth downward. The blow drove
them through the scales and bone into the brain.
Barely did he cast himself free of loops that still churned about. He struck the ground, rolled over, and bounced to his feet, gasping. Let the dead monster flop until sunrise quieted it, if that saying about reptiles was true. The guards above would not come down to see why.
Conan's wind returned, and he sought the others. They pressed close. Fingers and eyes asked mutely, pleadingly, how he fared. He gave a curt nod for reply and set forth afresh.
South-east corner, south wall, south-west corner, and northward.
Shadow cloaked the west side of Khemi, out to where farmland stretched grey-white in the moonbeams. The boat canal was closer than that. Conan kept his glance well away from the illuminated ground and let his night vision sharpen. Crouched above the deeply cut channel, by starlight he saw water like a ribbon of tarnished silver. At its end stood a dock and a roof built out on slanting poles, all in silhouette. Likewise featureless were the menhirs whose double line marked a path from the bank to a gate in the city wall.
He drew his companions into a huddle. 'We must either be quiet about this, or quick, or both if we can,' he muttered, 'for any racket will surely draw men from yon towers. Follow me, but do not act unless I tell you to.'
'Oh... you, alone?' Anguish pulsed in Daris' voice. Her fingers clutched his wrist.
'No, us together,' he answered, 'but being sensible about it. Heed me! Come!'
He avoided the stairway down the bank and, like a prowling tiger, slipped over the earth toward the pier. Soon he made out the vessel berthed there, long, metallic, figure headed by some beaked reptile. Bent nearly double, he glided close. Four sentinels were on duty. Two stood, spears grounded against the planks; two rested on a bench close by. While young and burly, they were not soldiers, but shaven-pated, garbed in black tunics – acolytes.
Conan padded up behind the seated pair. He rose. His great hands seized both heads and dashed them together. There was a cracking sound, and the bodies went limp.
The guards afoot whirled about. Conan leapt over the bench. A
Stygian tried to bring spear against him. Conan was too quick. The edge of his right hand chopped past the shaft, into the neck behind. The guard lurched and crumpled. The Cimmerian caught him before he could splash into the water and lowered him with care.
That took a brief time, though. Yet the fourth warder had not ' yelled for help. Conan looked and saw why. Daris had laid a knee in the small of his back, slipped her belt around his throat, and hauled it tight. She lacked the power to strangle him, but she kept him dumb, and his sandals made scant noise as he struggled. Jehanan arrived, sword in hand, to finish him.
Conan decided he could not well reprimand such a pair for disregarding his orders. Anyway, speed remained vital. He beckoned his company to gather the strewn weapons and come aboard.
Had his course of late not been headlong, he might have had trouble forcing himself to do likewise. Fires in a crystal globe the size of three human skulls glowed and wavered astern. The metal of deck and hull felt chill to his touch, nothing like warm, life-remembering wood. Forward of a deckhouse, whose unlighted ports resembled empty eye sockets, rose the terrifying figurehead.
However, if this was his roundabout way to Bêlit, he would not hesitate. He had proposed going straight to sea, but Falco and Daris did not think that would be wise. Naval vessels were bound to spy both this craft and the fact that she was not manned as she ought to be. She was not so fast that she could evade stones or flaming missiles from well-aimed catapults. It was not even sure that the magic which ran her would prevail far from Stygia; Set's power appeared to be slight out on the clean ocean. Inland, then!
'Take over, Daris,' Conan said low. 'Stand by her, Falco. Jehanan, help me cast off.'
The woman's eyes gleamed wide, but she nerved herself to go before the globe, speak the word, and make the gestures. The youth kept close watch on her. Well-nigh soundless, the boat slipped from shore, backed out the narrow channel, entered the river, and turned her prow toward the moon. Wings spread wide. Speed increased. The hull lifted to slide on the very surface. Cleft air whistled. Khemi receded into night.
Conan wrestled down his fears and took charge. He sent Jehanan onward as a lookout. Himself, by the glow of moon and brightened lemon-fires, he explored. In the deckhouse he found small separate cabins, lanterns, flint and steel for kindling them, no galley but ample stores of food and drink that did not require cooking, assorted clothes and weapons and the like, and instruments he neither recognized nor desired to know about.
He considered casting those overboard, but decided to leave well enough alone. Minute by minute he felt calmer, happier. A night and a day and a night to Luxur – an arrow or a galloping horse could perhaps outstrip that, but who could shoot an arrow or ride a horse untiring through almost a thousand miles?
Exultant, he loaded hard tack, cheese, raisins, wine, and water on a tray. First he served Jehanan in the bow, then he went aft. When Daris and Falco had theirs, he allowed himself an enormous draught and a bite. Presently he inquired how this witch-vessel was controlled. They demonstrated the simple art. He paid as much heed to Daris as to it. How like Bêlit she was, how fair to see in moonlight and freedom.