Conan the Rebel (3 page)

'He blasphemed,' said the magician shakily.

'There are worse punishments than death,' Nehekba reminded, 'and first we need him, for the Lord of the World Below.'

Tothapis gave a stiff nod, made a further gesture, and rapped a command: 'Desist! Let him be! He is fated!' The guards heard. In awe, they retreated from Jehanan, who grinned defiance at them. Tothapis terminated the view.

'What shall we make of him?' he asked after a silence.

Nehekba stirred out of thoughtfulness and smiled a slow sleepy smile. ' will make him what we need, my lord.'

'How?'

'Not by scourging or locking in a coffin under the sun or aught like that. No, let him be conveyed to the Keep of the Manticore. Let him be bathed, anointed, well clad, well dined and wined. Let him have a soft bed in a beautiful room where the air is cool and fragrant. When he has rested, I will seek him out. Presently we shall know much more.'

Tothapis' own hard mouth quirked briefly upward. 'I am not surprised, Nehekba. So be it.'

Again he turned to Ramwas. 'You are a trusty man,' he said. His voice dropped. 'I hope you are.'

The other shrank back the least bit. 'I strive to be, my lord,' he replied, not quite steadily.

Tothapis nodded. 'Good. Though the penalty for failure is unbounded, the reward for success can be high. This must remain a very secret matter, at least until we understand better what it portends. Else we could find ourselves entangled at cross-purposes with many an ambitious official, not to speak of a civil service which has grown over the state like coral. The business is too urgent and too deadly for that.

'Therefore, Ramwas, you must become an agent of mine.' He lifted a hand against the man's alarm. 'Fear not. You will not have to deal with magic – much. It is only that, in this time of crisis, I require men who are competent to meet emergencies as they arise. I have none such in Luxur whom I think is advisable to make privy to this affair. But I may well need one – the more so when the Taian revolt is perhaps linked to Conan's destiny that we must abort. You have been there often, you know the city and people, you have authority. A word from me to the Grand General will get you posted to Luxur on a 'special mission'. You will organize a corps of men to keep watch on every suspicious place there.'

'But – but my lord,' stammered Ramwas, 'it is hundreds of miles upriver. Killing horses along the way, I could hardly arrive before that pirate ship reaches our coasts. And then, the fastest carrier pigeons could never roost aboard the sacred wing boat. Of it you may not have heard; but it will bear you thither in a night and a day and a night. With you will go a homunculus that can relay your words to me, and mine to you, across the leagues between at the speed of thought.'

Ramwas, who had hunted lions and men, could not repress a shudder.

Tothapis saw and told him soothingly: 'You will have time to set your own concerns here in order if you are diligent. You will also have time to prepare yourself in Luxur. First, of course, you and I must speak further, more than once. And... never forget, Ramwas, the hour of trouble is the hour of the bold. They come to power, and the ages afterward revere their names. Would you not like that, Ramwas?'

Nehekba curled serpentine in her chair and smiled to herself.

III

The Woman Avenger

'For me,' Bêlit said, 'happiness died when a black sail hove above the sea-rim.'

She stood beside Conan on the upper deck, at the prow, next to the figurehead. Its gilt flashed brilliant under a cloudless heaven. Sunlight glittered off waves where they rushed blue, green, white-maned. A stiff and bracing breeze filled the sail and sent Tigress northward at a pace that had foam hissing around her cutwater. The galley plunged like a living beast; cordage sang; land had dropped from sight, but gulls yet trailed her, purity and grace on the wind. Below, crewmen laughed and jested in their native tongue as they went about their duties.

Yet the soul of Bêlit was afar, in a terrible place. She stared from the storm-wrack of her unbound hair, out across leagues and years. When Conan laid an arm around her, she did not flow to him as erstwhile. Her monotone went on:

'Be-like I should start at the beginning, however much pain is in memory raised from its grave. My father was Hoiakim, a man of Dan-marcah on the northern coast of Shem, near the Argossean border. The city is not large, but she is tributary to none. The forests of her hinterland give timber for many ships that fare widely in trade; foreigners make lively her taverns and crooked streets; serenity dwells in the temples of her gods.

'Hoiakim wed Shaaphi and brought her south. A treaty had lately been concluded with the Suba tribe on the Black Coast, for a trading post among them. It was a rare opportunity for a young man. The Suba were fishers, farmers, and hunters in the jungle. They also dealt with peoples inland. Thus they had abundant goods – hides, gems, gold dust, hardwoods, curious animals and birds. In return they wanted iron tools and weapons, fabrics, spices, medicines, and the like. My father became the factor.

'Soon he was mighty among them. Not only was he strong of arm, tireless in the chase, a peerless archer, but he was wise and just. The natives came to him for counsel about most things and for judging of their disputes. In bad times – hurricane, flood, murrain, drought, war – he took over leadership in all but name. The chief did not resent this, for he, like the rest, thought that great magic lived in Bangulu. So they called my father, Bangulu, the High One. Nor did the witch doctor mind that my mother Shaaphi went among the folk as an angel, healing, midwifing, consoling, teaching women and children arts – gardening, weaving, preserving, cleanliness, music – that bettered their lives.

'There Jehanan was born and, two years later, I. There we grew up, friends of the Suba, rangers of woods and streams and sea, learning their wild skills and alien lore. At the same time, we did not become savages. Our parents saw to our education as proper Shemites. They had many scrolls and instruments for us as well as themselves. We accompanied them on their visits home. Besides, ships came to bring new trade goods and carry back what we had gathered. Foreign vessels, bartering or exploring, would put in too, for exchange of information and for merriment. No, we were not isolated. Life was good to us.

'The bud of my happiness broke into flower when -' Bêlit gripped the rail hard -'when I wedded.

'That was on the last voyage I made back to Dan-marcah. Jehanan was in no haste to marry; native girls were ever eager to please him. But I – I was a maiden still, and ardent. For my parents' part, they wished grandchildren, and a helper, since the post and its business had grown. In the city they engaged a marriage broker, who presently found a suitable youth. Neither pair of elders needed much persuasion for Aliel and me; we tumbled into love.

'My bridegroom returned with us. He proved an able assistant, and was soon well liked by the tribe. My happiness bore fruit next year, when a son was born unto us, our own little Kedron.

'Three months later, the black sail hove above the sea-rim.'

At first there was joy ashore. Visitors were always welcome. Warriors did hasten to take up spear, bow, knobkerrie, shield, and form a line on the beach. A few times the sight of them had caused a vessel to sheer off, revealing her as a pirate or a slaver.

Bêlit left Kedron in his cradle and hurried outside to join Aliel. The sight before her, around her, was magnificent. At her back, beyond cultivated fields, the jungle rose intensely green under a blue dazzle of sky. A stream flowed thence, bright through the millet and yams, past rail-fenced paddocks where cattle grazed, to the sea. Beside it, on the edge of the beach, the kraal stood. Grass roofs, weathered golden, showed above palisades which honeysuckle made verdant, snowy, perfumed, bee-murmurous. The trading post lay by itself half a mile off, a long building of rammed earth, whitewashed and thatched, amidst a riot of oleander colours The beach was quartz sand, blinding bright. The brook emptied into a cove which gave safe approach and anchorage. Elsewhere, surf creamed and thundered in the van of sapphire waters. Afresh west wind bore heat away. A flight of parrots went by, noisy rainbows.

The warriors of Suba were poised tall along the shore. Naked save for grass skirts, plumed headdresses, bangles, beads, their sepia bodies gleamed as if oiled. From the stockade poured lithe women, fleet children, grave elders, the chief in a leopard skin. Chatter and laughter blew across to Bêlit. A drum throbbed in gladness.

Hoiakim and Shaaphi were already outside. The older man stroked his grey-shot beard and rumbled, 'What do you make of yonder craft, Aliel?'

His son-in-law squinted into glare. The ship was now hull up and nearing. She was big, her sides high and round, the few oar ports clearly meant for no more than close-in manoeuvrings. From strakes to sail, she was unrelieved sable; but a scarlet pennon fluttered at the masthead. Large objects of some kind were mounted at bow and stern. Light winked off metal as numerous men moved about her decks.

'Stygian, from the lines and paint,' Aliel decided. 'I wager they have others along, though; Stygians are no great seafarers. What

venture might they be on, this far from home?'

Unease touched Bêlit. She had heard too many ugly tales about Stygia. Aliel sensed it, squeezed her hand, smiled at her. She gave him back the gesture, cheered and grateful.

'Perhaps they seek knowledge,' Shaaphi suggested in her gentle fashion. 'They are said to be a nation of philosophers.'

Hoiakim patted her shoulder affectionately and forebore to dispute.

As the ship drew in, Bêlit saw that Alieil's guess had been right. The majority of the crew were swarthy Stygians, but she identified Shemites among them, and men more fair who were probably Argosseans. But why were they armed and armoured – edged steel, helmets, breast-plates, shields? Surely everybody knew by now that the kraal of the Suba and her father's trading post offered treachery to no guest. The warriors on the strand felt the same doubt and closed ranks. Other people edged back toward the stockade.

A leadsman called warning. Anchor cables and sail rattled downward. The ship lay at rest in the cove, broadside to.

A trumpet sounded aboard. Men sprang to the objects on deck. They were great jars of glazed clay, on iron grills above trays where charcoal fires glowed to heat them. Their mouths were tightly fitted into long, flexible tubes of leather. Stygians pointed these shoreward and, careful to stay upwind, drew out the stoppers that closed them.

From either one billowed forth a murky cloud. Men caught at their throats, staggered, dropped their weapons, slumped to the sand. A faint whiff reached Bêlit and whirled her into a dizziness that passed when the breeze shifted.

'Ishtar aid us,' Hoiakim cried. 'They must be slavers, with some drug borne on the air to break our defence!' He drew his short-sword 'Aliel, get the women and the child to safety.' He ran from his kindred. 'To me, men of the Suba!' he roared. 'To me, and do battle!'

The jars emptied, the cloud rapidly dispersed. A gangplank splashed from the bulwark. Down it swarmed the invaders, waded ashore, sprang into formation, and charged. No resistance was left on the strand, only men who lay unconscious or weakly stirring, unable to rise. The Stygians and their allies moved toward the kraal.

Through nightmare, Bêlit saw her father dash about, bellow his war cry, seek to rally whatever fighters had escaped the narcotic. She even heard him yell at the chief, 'Ungedu, get the people back inside, close the gate, for Adonis' sake!'

Jehanan burst into sight. He had been fishing up-stream, and sped the whole way hither afoot. 'No!' Bêlit shouted to the brother she adored. 'Get away!' He did not hear, he plunged to join Hoiakim.

The remaining hale men of the Suba began to do likewise.

Bêlit saw an Argossean bowman stand forth from the ranks of his comrades. With ghastly deliberation, he nocked an arrow, drew string, took aim. Did she catch the twang? She did see the arrow smite, and Hoiakim fall. Briefly, he tugged at the shaft in his breast; then he was still.

Jehanan howled. Maddened, he dashed straight at the Stygians. They surrounded him. Bêlit saw pike butts lift and crash down.

Dismayed, most Negro fighting men gave way before the onslaught of a disciplined squadron. It reached the stockade ere the gate could be shut. Leaving a few men to hold that position, trapping those within, the marauders spread out in pursuit of the majority who were outside and fleeing.

'Father,' Bêlit sobbed. 'Jehanan.'

Aliel shook her. 'We must escape,' her husband said between locked teeth. 'That was the last charge he laid on me.'

A far part of her remembered that they, the Shemites, ought to be immune by treaty to slavers. But what use were treaties? If they were caught, who would make complaint? 'Kedron,' she gasped.

Shaaphi came from the house, grandchild in arms. Her own tears laved the infant, but she said levelly, 'Yes, let us be off to the jungle and hide, before we are noticed. Many will take the same way. We can join them here... afterward.'

In the bosom of Bêlit, love for these three was like soft rain falling into a white-hot cauldron – of hate for the slayers of her father, the captors of her brother, the destroyers of every happiness. She darted back inside, snatched a spear off the wall, and came back to the rest.

They struck off across the fields. A haroo snapped Bêlit's glance rearward. The heart froze in her. Four raiders had seen her and were in chase.

Shaaphi stopped. Bêlit did also, as if helpless, while Aliel raged at them to be on. Shaaphi raised her grey head. 'I cannot outrun them, at my age,' she said, 'nor should Hoiakim stand alone before Ishtar.' She gave the wailing infant to Bêlit, who took him numbly. 'Go,' she said. From her girdle she unsheathed her knife. 'Fare always well, my darlings.' The blade flashed. Blood spouted, unbelievably red. She knelt down among the grain-stalks and sang her death prayer in a voice that soon died out.