Looking neither to left nor right, the S’tarra strode through the camp to kneel at Amanar’s feet. At an impatient gesture Sitha rose and leaned close to whisper in its master’s ear.
Conan could catch no sound of what was said, nor read anything on the mage’s dark face, but Amanar’s knuckles grew white on his golden staff, telling Conan the man found the news displeasing. Talbor, Conan thought. Amanar gestured for his minion to be silent.
“I must leave you,” the mage said to Karela. “A matter requires my attention.”
“Not trouble, I hope,” she said.
“A small matter,” Amanar replied, but his mouth was tight behind his close-cropped beard. “I will see you on the morrow, then. Rest well.” He turned his attention to Conan. “Think well on your decision, Cimmerian. There are worse things than what I offer. Sitha.” The sorcerer strode from the camp, his S’tarra minion at his heels.
With the departure of the scaled creature the noise level of the camp began to rise again quickly. Hordo staggered up to Conan and Karela.
“I do not like those things,” the one-eyed brigand said unsteadily. He still held his bared tulwar and the now-empty golden goblet, and he swayed as he spoke. “When are we to leave this accursed valley and be about what we know? When are we for the caravan routes?”
“You’re drunk, my old hound,” Karela said affectionately. “Find yourself a place to sleep it off, and we’ll talk in the morning.”
“I entered the keep tonight,” Conan said quietly.
Karela’s green eyes locked with his sapphire gaze. “You fool!” she hissed. Hordo stared with his mouth open.
“He has the pendants,” the Cimmerian went on, “and the women. At least, he has two of the women. The other three have disappeared. It’s my belief he killed them.”
“Killed slave girls?” Hordo said, scandalized. “What sort of man does a thing like that? Even a sorcerer … .”
“Keep your voice down,” Karela snapped. “I told you not to bandy that word about until I gave you leave. And you, Conan. What’s this nonsense you’re
babbling? If the women are gone, likely he sold them. Or was your precious Velita one of them?”
“She was not,” Conan growled back. “And why should she still raise your hackles? You know there’s nothing between us, though there seems to be quite a bit between you and Amanar, from the way he was fondling you.”
“No!” Hordo protested, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Not Amanar. Not with you. I’ll admit I thought better of you taking Conan to your bed, but—”
Face flaming, Karela cut him off sharply. “Be silent, you old fool! What I do, and with whom, is my business!” Her eyes flung green daggers at Conan, and she stalked away, snatching a flask from Aberius as she passed him.
Hordo shook his massive head. “Why did you not speak, Conan? Why did you not stop her?”
“She’s a free woman,” Conan said coldly. His pride was still pricked by the way she had accepted Amanar’s arm about her. “I have no claim on her. Why didn’t you stop her?”
“I’m too old to have my liver sliced out,” Hordo snorted. “Your Velita was truly in the keep, then? I wonder you didn’t take her, and the pendants, and ride from this place.” He swept his curved sword in an arc that took in all the dark outside the firelight.
“She’s spell-caught,” Conan sighed, and told him how he had found Velita, and what she had said.
“So he lied to us,” the bearded man said when Conan finished. “And if about the pendants and the women, about what else?”
“About everything. I had thought to tell her about what he’s done with Velita, to show him for the man he is, but now I think she’d believe I made it up.”
“And likely tell Amanar about it, to amuse him with your jealousy. Or what she’d see as jealousy,” he added quickly as the big Cimmerian youth glared at him. “What am I to do, Conan? Even now I cannot abandon her.”
Conan lifted his broadsword an inch free of its sheath and slammed it back again. “Keep your sword sharp, and your eye open.” His steely gaze took in the motley rogues sprawled drunkenly around the fires. “And have these hounds of hers ready to move at an instant. Without letting her or Amanar discover it, of course.”
“You don’t ask much, do you, Cimmerian? What are you going to do?”
Conan peered through the darkness toward the fortress before answering. Even in that overpowering blackness those massive walls seemed blacker still. “Kill Amanar, free Velita, steal the pendants, and return to Shadizar, of course. Trifles like that.”
“Trifles like that,” Hordo groaned. “I need another drink.”
“So do I,” Conan said softly. The night weighed heavily on his broad shoulders. This valley would be a poor place to die.
XXII