Part 5 (1/2)

”They'll come when you tell them the devils are but men.”

Tubal tore his beard and voiced his real objection to leaving Conan.

”The swine in that city will flay you alive!”

”Nay, I'll match guile with guile. I shall be a fugitive from the wrath of the king, an outlaw seeking sanctuary.” Tubal abandoned his argument Grumbling in his beard, the thick-necked Shemite clambered down the crag and vanished into the defile. When he was out of sight; Conan also descended and walked toward the cliffs.

3. The Hidden Ones

Conan reached the foot of the cliffs and began mounting the steep road without having seen any human being. The trail wound interminably up a succession of ramps, with low, ma.s.sive, cyclopean walls along the outer edges. This was no work of Ilbarsi hillmen; it looked ancient and as strong as the mountain itself.

For the last thirty feet, the ramps gave way to a flight of steep steps cut in the rock. Still no one challenged Conan. He pa.s.sed through a line of low fortification along the edge of the mesa and came upon seven men squatting over a game.

At the crunch of Conan's boots on the gravel, the seven sprang to their feet, glaring wildly. They were Zuagirs- desert Shemites, lean, hawk-nosed warriors with fluttering kaffias over their heads and the hilts of daggers and scimitars protruding from their sashes. They s.n.a.t.c.hed up the javelins they had laid beside them and poised them to throw.

Conan showed no surprise, halting and eyeing them tranquilly. The Zuagirs, as uncertain as cornered wildcats, merely glared.

”Conan!” exclaimed the tallest of the Zuagirs, his eyes ablaze with fear and suspicion. ”What do you here?”

Conan ran his eyes over them all and replied: ”I seek your master.”

This did not seem to rea.s.sure them. They muttered among themselves, moving their javelin arms back and forth as if to try for a cast. The tall Zuagir's voice rose:

”You chatter like crows! This thing is plain: We were gambling and did not see him come. We have failed in our duty. If it is known, there will be punishment. Let us slay him and throw him over the cliff.”

”Aye,” agreed Conan. ”Try it. And when your master asks: ”Where is Conan, who brought me important news?” say Lo, you did not consult with us about his man, so we slew him to teach you a lesson!”

They winced at the irony. One growled: ”Spear him; none will know.”

”Nay! If we fail to bring him down with the first cast, he'll be among us like a wolf among sheep.”

”Seize him and cut his throat!” suggested the youngest of the band. The others scowled so murderously at him that he fell back in confusion.

”Aye, cut my throat,” taunted Conan, hitching the hilt of his scimitar around within easy reach. ”One of you might even live to tell of it!”

”Knives are silent,” muttered the youngster. He was rewarded by a javelin b.u.t.t driven into his belly, which doubled him up gasping.

Having vented some of their spleen on their tactless comrade, the Zuagirs grew calmer. The tall one asked Conan:

”You are expected?”

”Would I come otherwise? Does the lamb thrust his head unbidden into the lion's maw?”

”Lamb!” The Zuagir cackled. ”More like a gray wolf with blood on his fangs.”

”If there is fresh-spilt blood, it is but that of fools who disobeyed their master. Last night, in the Gorge of Ghosts-”

”By Hanuman! Was it you the Sabatean fools fought?

They said they had slain a Vendhyan merchant and his servants in the gorge.”

So that was why the sentries were careless! For some reason the Sabateans had lied about the outcome of the battle, and the Watchers of the Road were not expecting pursuit.