m their faces, producing a frown on his. “What has happened?”
“A great deal,” Kang Hou replied. “My niece brought much news with her. For one thing, King Bhandarkar is dead at the hands of the Katari. Fortunately Prince Jharim Kar managed to rally nobles to Bhandarkar’s young son, Bhunda Chand, who has been crowned as the new king, thus restoring order. On the unfortunate side, you, my cheng-li friend, have been condemned to death by Royal Edict, signed by Bhunda Chand, for complicity in the assassination of his father.”
Conan could only shake his head in amazement. “How did this madness come about?”
The Khitan merchant explained. “One of Jharim Kar’s first moves after the coronation—and that was a hasty affair, it seems—was to ride for Gwandiakan with the young King and all the cavalry he could muster. Supposedly he found evidence that Karim Singh was a leader of the plot, and thus must be arrested and executed before he could become a rallying point for disaffection. It is rumored, however, that the Prince blames the wazam for an incident involving one of his wives. Whatever the truth, Bhunda Chand’s column met the caravan on which we and the wazam traveled. And one Alyna, a servant of the Lady Vyndra, gave testimony that her mistress and a pale-skinned barbarian called Patil had plotted with Karim Singh and spoken in her presence of slaying Bhandarkar.”
A shriek of fury announced that Vyndra had just had the same information from Kuie Hsi. The Vendhyan noblewoman stormed from behind the horses, clutching half-donned silken robes that fluttered after her. “I will strip her hide! That sow will speak the truth, or I will wear out switches on her!”
“I fear it is too late for any such action on your part,” Kang Hou said. “Alyna—perhaps I should say the Lady Alyna—has already been confirmed in your titles and estates. The Royal Edict concerning you not only strips you of those possessions but gifts her with your life and person.”
Vyndra’s mouth worked silently for a moment, then she rounded on Conan. “You are the cause of this! It is all your fault! What are you going to do about it?”
“I am to blame?” Conan growled. “I enslaved Alyna?” Vyndra’s eyes almost started from her head in fury and he sighed. “Very well. I will take you to Turan with me.”
“Turan!” she cried, throwing up her hands. “It is a pigsty unfit for a civilized woman! It—” Suddenly it dawned on her that her gesture had bared her to the waist. Shrieking, she snatched the still-sliding silk and dashed for the shelter of the horses.
“A woman whose temper equals her great beauty,” Kang Hou said, “and whose deviousness and vindictiveness exceed both.”
Conan waved the words aside. “What of Gwandiakan? Will it be safe to hide there for a day or two while we recuperate?”
“That will not be possible,” Kuie Hsi said, joining them. “The people of Gwandiakan took the earthquake as a sign from the gods, especially when they discovered that carts had been assembled to take the children from the city to an unknown destination. A wall of the fortress had collapsed. The people stormed the fortress, freeing the imprisoned children. Soldiers who tried to stop them were torn limb from limb. Jharim Kar has promised justice in the matter, but in the meanwhile his soldiers patrol the streets heavily. I cannot believe any Western foreigner would long escape their notice.”
“I am glad for the children,” Conan said, “for all it had nothing to do with me, but this means we must ride for the mountains from here. And the sooner the better, I think. What of you, Kang Hou? Are you, too, proscribed?”
“I am but a humble merchant,” the Khitan replied, “and so, no doubt, beneath Alyna’s notice. To my good fortune. As for your journey over the mountains, I fear that not all who came with you will return to Turan. You will pardon me?” Bowing, he left before Conan could ask what he meant, but Hasan took his place.
“I must speak with you,” the young Turanian said. “Alone.” Still frowning after Kang Hou, Conan let himself be drawn off from the others. Hasan pressed a folded square of parchment into the Cimmerian’s hand. “When you return to Sultanapur, Conan, take that to the House of Perfumed Doves and say it is for Lord Khalid.”
“So you are the one who will not return to Turan,” Conan said, turning over the square of parchment in his hands. “And what message is it you send to Yildiz’s spy master?”
“You know of him?”
“More is known on the streets of Sultanapur than the lords of Turan would believe. But you have not answered my question.”
The Turanian drew a deep breath. “I was sent to discover if a connection exists between the Vendhyans and the death of the High Admiral. Not one question have I asked concerning that, yet I know already this land is so full of intrigues within intrigues that no clear answer can ever be found. I say as much in the letter. As well I say that I can find no evidence connecting the ‘fishermen’ of Sultanapur with the matter, and that the rumors of a northland giant in the pay of Vendhyans is just that. A rumor. Lord Khalid will recognize my hand, and so know it for a true report. It is unsealed. You may read it if you wish.”
Conan stuffed the parchment into his belt pouch. There would be time for reading—and for deciding whether to visit the House of Perfumed Doves—later. “Why are you remaining?” he asked. “Chin Kou?”
“Yes. Kang Hou has no objections to a foreigner marrying into his family.” Hasan snorted a laugh. “After years of avoiding it, it seems I will become a spice merchant after all.”
“Be careful,” Conan cautioned. “I wish you well, but I do not believe the Khitans are much less devious than the Vendhyans.”
Leaving the young Turanian, Conan went in search of Kang Hou. The merchant was seated on the wall of the caved-in well. “Soon you will be fleeing Vendhya,” the Khitan said as Conan approached. “What of your plans to sack the land with an army at your back?”
“Someday perhaps. But Vendhya is a strange land, mayhap too devious for a simple northlander like me. It makes my thoughts whirl in peculiar fashions.”
Kang Hou arched a thin eyebrow. “How so, man who calls himself Patil?”
“Just fragments, spinning. Odd memories. Valash, sitting in the Golden Crescent on the morning the High Admiral died. A very hard man, Valash. He would never have let two such beauties as your nieces leave his ship except to a slaver’s block. Unless someone frightened him into it perhaps. But then, you are a very hard man for a poor merchant, are you not, Kang Hou? And your niece, Kuie Hsi, is an extremely able woman. The way in which she passed for a Vendhyan woman to seek information in Gwandiakan. And knowing Naipal was among those who rode to the Forests of Ghelai, though I have heard his face was known but to a handful. Were you aware that a Vendhyan woman was delivered to the High Admiral as a gift on the morning he died? She vanished soon after his death, I understand. But I have never understood why the Vendhyans would sign a treaty with Turan and kill the High Admiral within a day of it. Kandar seemed truly shocked at the news, and Karim Singh as well. Strange, would you not say, Kang Hou?”
All through the rambling discourse the Khitan had listened with an expression of polite interest. Now he smiled, tucking his hands into his broad sleeves. “You weave a very fanciful tale for one who calls himself a simple northlander.”
Returning the smile, Conan put his hand on his dagger. “Will you wager you are faster than I?” he asked softly.
For an instant Kang Hou wavered visibly. Then, slowly, he brought his hands into the open. Empty. “I am but a peaceful merchant,” he said as though nothing had happened. “If you would care to listen, perhaps I can weave a tale as fanciful as yours. Having, of course, as little to do with reality.”
“I will listen,” Conan said cautiously, but he did not move his hand from the dagger hilt.