Part 11 (1/2)

Conan had not reached the secret door when the creak of a hinge behind him made him whirl. The plain door at the opposite end was opening.

Conan sprinted for it as an armed man stepped through.

It was a Hyrkanian like the one Conan had slain earlier. As he sighted Conan rus.h.i.+ng upon him, his breath hissed between his teeth and he reached for his scimitar.

With a leap Conan was upon him and drove him back against the closing door with the point of his knife p.r.i.c.king the Hyrkanian's chest ”Silence!” he hissed.

The guard froze, pallor tinging his yellowish skin. Gingerly he drew his hand away from his sword hilt and spread both arms in token of surrender.

”Are there any other guards?” asked Conan.

”Nay, by Tarim! I am the only one.”

”Where's the Iranistani girl, Nanaia?” Conan thought he knew where she was but hoped to learn by indirection whether her escape had been discovered and whether she Bad been recaptured.

”The G.o.ds know!” said the guard. ”I was with the party of guards who brought the Zuagir dogs to the dungeon and found our comrade in the cell with his neck half sliced through and the wench gone. Such shouting and rus.h.i.+ng to and fro in the palace! But I was told off to guard the Zuagirs, so I cannot tell more.”

”Zuagirs?” said Conan.

”Aye, those who wrongly let you up the Stair. For that they will die tomorrow.”

”Where are they now?”

”In the other bank of cells, through yonder door. I have just now come from them.”

”Then turn around and march back through that door. No tricks!”

The man opened the door and stepped through as if he were treading on naked razors. They came into another corridor lined with cells. At Conan's appearance, there was a hiss of breath from two of these cells.

Bearded faces crowded the grilles and lean hands gripped the bars. The seven prisoners glared silently at him with venomous hate in their eyes. Conan dragged his prisoner in front of these cells and said:

”You were faithful minions; why are you locked up?”

Antar the son of Adi spat at him. ”Because of you, out-land dog! You surprised us on the Stair, and the Magus sentenced us to die even before he learned you were a spy. He said we were either knaves or fools to be caught off guard, so at dawn we die under the knives of Zahak's slayers, may Hanuman curse him and you!”

”Yet you will attain Paradise,” Conan reminded them, ”because you have faithfully served the Magus of the Sons of Yezm.”

”May the dogs gnaw the bones of the Magus of Yezm!” replied one with whole-hearted venom, and another said: ”Would that you and the Magus were chained together in h.e.l.l!” ”We spit on his Paradise! It is all lies and tricks with drugs!”

Conan reflected that Virata had fallen short of getting the allegiance his ancestors boasted, whose followers gladly slew themselves at command.

He had taken a bunch of keys from the guard and now weighed them thoughtfully in his hand. The eyes of the Zuagirs fixed upon them with the aspect of men in h.e.l.l who look upon an open door.

”Antar the son of Adi,” he said, ”your hands are stained with the blood of many men, but when I knew you before, you did not violate your sworn oaths. The Magus has abandoned you and cast you from his service. You are no longer his men, you Zuagirs. You owe him nothing.”

Antar's eyes were those of a wolf. ”Could I but send him to Arallu ahead of me, I should die happy!”

All stared tensely at Conan, who said: ”Will you swear, each man by the honor of his clan, to follow and serve me until vengeance is accomplished, or death releases you from the vow?” He put the keys behind him so as not to seem to flaunt them too flagrantly before helpless men. ”Virata will give you nothing but the death of a dog. I offer you revenge and, at worst, a chance to die with honor.”

Antar's eyes blazed and his sinewy hands quivered as they gripped the bars. ”Trust us!” he said.