Conan the Destroyer (Robert Jordan's Conan Novels 6)

Her mind raced, searching for what could possibly be left yet undone. “The thief?” she said. “He is dead?”

“He is dead,” Bombatta replied.

“You put your sword through him.”

“No, but—”

Her hand flashed out, cracked against his face. “When the One holds the Horn,” she quoted, “the sky-eyed thief must die. An he lives, danger comes on his shoulder and death rides his right hand.” She drew a deep breath. “You know what is written in the scrolls.”

“He lies entombed with half a mountain atop him,” Bombatta growled sullenly.

“Fool! If you did not handle his corpse … . I will not take a chance, Bombatta, not even a small chance, not now. It is all too close to fruition. Treble the guard.”

“For one thief who is certainly dead?” he barked.

“Do it!” she commanded coldly. “Let not so much as a mouse pass the palace walls without a spear in it.” Not waiting for his reply she turned away. The Horn was at last in her possession, and if she could not touch it, she could at least gaze upon it. She had to gaze upon it.

The city of Shadizar was called ‘the Wicked,’ and what the eyes of its citizens had not seen had never happened under the heavens, yet the crowds in the streets gave wide passage to the four who rode into the city as dusk drew near. Weary and lathered were their horses, and the four—one a woman—seemed no less travel-worn, yet there was a grimness in their eyes, most especially in the strange blue eyes of the young giant who led them, that made even City Guardsmen decide to look elsewhere for evildoers and bribes.

Conan knew where a stable stood not far from Taramis’ palace, and the horses were no sooner turned over to a hostler than he hurried into the streets.

Akiro caught up to him with an effort. “Slow down, my young friend. You must have a plan.” Malak and Zula joined them, and the look of the four was enough to gain them as clear a path as when they had ridden.

“There is no time for slowing,” Conan growled. “Or have you not looked at the sun?”

Ahead of them Taramis’ palace came in view. The tall, iron-bound gates were closed, and six guards stood before them with slanted spears. On the walls more guards were appearing every moment, until they stood two paces apart all the way around the palace.

The wizard pushed Conan to the mouth of an alley. “Now will you agree to a plan?”

Malak snatched an orange from a fruit-monger’s cart that stood beside the alley. The peddler opened his mouth, looked at the small man’s companions, and closed it again.

“Now I see there is no use to a plan,” Conan replied slowly. “I must try to rescue her, for I have vowed it, but I fear that I and any who go with me will die in the attempt. It is best the rest of you leave.”

“I will go with you,” Zula said fiercely. “I owe you a life, and I will follow you until it is repaid.”

“You are fools,” Akiro said despairingly. “Do you mean to attack the palace as if you were an army?”

The fruit-monger’s mouth fell open.

“What about you, wizard?” Malak asked around a mouthful of orange. “Can you not help with some incantation or spell?”

“No doubt,” Akiro said drily, “I could hurl a fireball that would destroy those gates as if they were made of parchment. But I must stand in the open to do it, with the result that someone will probably put a spear in me, leaving the three of you to battle tenscore guards, if not twice so many.”

Eyes wide, the fruit-monger threw his weight behind his cart and pushed it away as fast as his legs would carry him.

“That does not sound like such a good idea to me,” Malak laughed weakly. “Mitra, who would believe anyone would go to all this trouble to get into that place, considering what my cousin went through to get out.”

“I thought your cousin died in those dungeons,” Conan said absently. His eyes and his mind were still on the palace and the fast-approaching night.

Malak shook his head, trying to avoid Zula’s glaring frown. “Two of them died. One escaped … .” He trailed off as Conan swiveled his head to look at him. Akiro raised a quizzical eyebrow. “That is, he did die. All of them died. I know nothing about tunnels or anything of that sort. I don’t remember. I swear it!”

“I could break his head,” Zula said thoughtfully.

“Then he could not talk,” Akiro said. “But he does not need his manhood for speech. I could shrivel that.”

Conan merely fingered the hilt of his d

agger.