“A strange oath,” Haranides said, “but then you’re a strange man, Cimmerian, though I like you for it. Look you, having decided there’s no point to going back to Shadizar to lose my head, I, too, am going to Turan, with Resaro and such other few of my men as survived. Yildiz dreams of empire. He’s hiring mercenaries. What I am trying to say is, join us.”
“I cannot,” Conan laughed, “for I’m neither soldier, nor guard, nor tavern keeper. I’m a thief.” He studied his surroundings. Half of the black keep was covered beneath a mound ripped from the side of the mountains. The tremors had lessened too, til a man could stand with ease, and walk without too much difficulty. “And as I’m a thief,” he finished, “I think it’s time for me to steal some horses before the hillmen decide to return.”
The reminder of the hillmen stirred them all to action. Quick farewells were said, and the three parted ways.
EPILOGUE
Conan walked his mount back up the hill to where Velita sat her own horse, watching the caravan make ready to move below on the route to Sultanapur. This was the caravan that had been spoken of, the big caravan that would drive through despite those that had disappeared. It stretched out of sight along the winding path that led through the pass. Conan did not believe they would have any trouble at all.
“Your passage is booked,” he told Velita. She was swathed in white cotton from head to foot. It was a cool way to dress for travel in the hot sun, and they had decided it was best she not advertise her beauty until she got to Sultanapur. “I gave the caravan master a gold piece extra to look after you, and a threat to find him later should anything untoward befall.”
“I still don’t understand how you have the money for my way,” she said. “I seem to recall waking just enough to hear you tell a one-eyed man that you had no money.”
“This,” Conan said, pressing a purse into her hands, “I took from Amanar’s chamber. Eighteen gold pieces left, after your passage. If I had told the others of it—and I didn’t lie, Velita, I just didn’t tell them—they’d likely have wanted a share. I’d have had to kill them to keep it for you, and I liked them too much for that.”
“You are a strange man, Conan of Cimmeria,” she said softly. She leaned forward to brush her lips delicately against his. Holding her breath, she waited.
Conan brought his hand down on her horse’s rump with a loud slap. “Fare you well, Velita,” he shouted as her horse galloped toward the caravan. “And I am likely a thrice-accursed idiot,” he added to himself.
He turned his horse down the caravan, on the way that would lead him west out of the Kezankians into Zamora. He now had about enough coppers left for two jacks of sour wine when he got back to Abuletes.
“Conan!”
He pulled his horse around at the hail. It seemed to come from a slave coffle. The caravan contained sorts that would have formed their own if not for the fear of those caravans that had disappeared. As he rode closer, he began to la
ugh.
The slaver had arranged his male and female slaves separately, to avoid trouble. The women knelt naked in the slight shade of a long strip of cotton, linked to the coffle line by neck chains. And kneeling in the center of that line was Karela.
As he reined in before her, she leaped to her feet, her lightly sunburned breasts swaying. “Buy me out of here, Conan. We can go back and take what we want of Amanar’s treasure. The hillmen will have gone by now, and I doubt they’ll want anything of his.”
Conan mentally counted the coppers in his purse again, and thought of an oath extracted not too many days before. Oaths were serious business. “How came you here, Karela? Hordo thought you dead.”
“Then he’s all right? Good. My tale is a strange one. I awoke in Amanar’s keep, feeling as if I had had a monstrous nightmare, to find an earthquake shaking the mountains down, hillmen attacking and the S’tarra gone mad. It was almost as if my nightmare had come true.”
“Not quite,” Conan murmured. He was thankful she did not remember. At least she was spared that. “Speak on.”
“I got a sword,” she said, “though not mine. I couldn’t find it. I regret losing that greatly, and I hope we find it when we go back. In any case, I fought my way out of the keep, through a break in the wall, but before I could reach the camp that fool sword broke. It wasn’t good steel, Conan. I stole a horse then, but hillmen chased me south, away from the valley. I was almost to the caravan route before I lost them.” She shook her head ruefully.
“But that doesn’t explain how you ended up here,” he said.
“Oh, I was paying so much heed to getting away from the hillmen that I forgot to mind where I was going. I rode right into half a dozen of this slaver’s guards, and five minutes later I was tied across my own horse.” She tried to manage a self-deprecating laugh, but it sounded strange and forced.
“In that case,” Conan said, “any magistrate will free you on proof of identity, proof that you aren’t actually a slave.”
Her voice dropped, and she looked carefully at the women on either side of her to see if they listened. “Be not a fool, Conan! Prove who I am to a magistrate, and he’ll send my head to Shadizar to decorate a pike. Now, Derketo take you, buy me free!”
To his surprise, she suddenly dropped back to her kneeling position. He looked around and found the reason: the approach of a plump man with thin, waxed mustaches and a gold ring in his left ear with a ruby the size of his little fingernail.
“Good morrow,” the fellow said, bowing slightly to Conan. “I see you have chosen one of my prettiest. Kneel up, girl. Shoulders back. Shoulders back, I say.” Red-faced and darting angry glances at Conan, Karela shifted to the required position. The plump man beamed as if she were a prime pupil.
“I know not,” Conan said slowly.
Karela frowned in his direction, and the slave dealer suddenly ran a thoughtful eye over the Cimmerian’s worn and ragged clothes. The plump man opened his mouth, then a second glance at the breadth of Conan’s shoulders and the length of his sword made the slaver modify his words.
“In truth, the girl is quite new, and she’ll be cheap. I maintain my reputation by selling nothing without letting the buyer know everything there is to know. Now, I’ve had this girl but two days, and already she has tried to escape twice and nearly had a guard’s sword once.” Conan was watching Karela from the corner of his eye. At this she straightened pridefully, almost into the pose the slave dealer had demanded. “On the other hand, all that was the first day.” Karela’s cheeks began to color. “A good switching after each, longer and harder each time, and she’s been a model since.” Her face was bright scarlet. “But I thought I should tell you the good and the bad.”
“I appreciate that,” Conan said. “What disposition do you intend to make of her in Sultanapur?” Her green eyes searched his face at that.