Part 21 (1/2)

13

'A Ghost Out of the Past'

Soon after sunrise Conan crossed the Argossean border Of Beloso he had seen no trace Either the captain hadlay senseless, or had fallen prey to the grins to indicate the latter possibility The fact that he had lain un seerossed in futile pursuit of the captain And if thethe road soos he would never have taken the eastward road in the first place

The heluards at the frontier did not question the Ci mercenary required no passport nor safe-conduct, especially when his unadorned h the low, grassy hills where streahts and shadows he rode, following the long road that rose and fell away ahead of him over dales and rises in the blue distance It was an old, old road, this highway froos was at peace; laden ox-wains ru the road, and men with bare, brown, brawny arms toiled in orchards and fields that smiled away under the branches of the roadside trees Oldoak branches called greetings to the wayfarer

Froarrulous old reat leathern jacks of foa ale, from the sharp-eyed silk-clad ht for news of Beloso

Stories were conflicting, but this erous black eyes and mustaches of the western folk was so for Messantia It was a logical destination; all the sea-ports of Argos were cos contrast with the inland provinces, and Messantia was the lot of all Craft of all the itives froathered there Laere lax; for Messantia thrived on the trade of the sea, and her citizens found it profitable to be sos with seaitilers and buccaneers played their part All this Conan kneell, for had he not, in the days of old when he was a Barachan pirate, sailed by night into the harbor of Messantia to discharge strange cargoes? Most of the pirates of the Barachan Isles--sossean sailors, and as long as they confined their attentions to the shi+pping of other nations, the authorities of Argos were not too strict in their interpretation of sea-laws

But Conan had not limited his activities to those of the Barachans He had also sailed with the Zingaran buccaneers, and even with those wild black corsairs that swept up from the far south to harry the northern coasts, and this put hinized in any of the ports of Argos it would cost him his head But without hesitation he rode on to Messantia, halting day or night only to rest the stallion and to snatch a feinks of sleep for hi his that poured continually in and out of this great commercial center No walls surrounded Messantia The sea and the shi+ps of the sea guarded the great southern trading city

It was evening when Conan rode leisurely through the streets that marched down to the waterfront At the ends of these streets he saw the wharves and the masts and sails of shi+ps He smelled salt water for the first tie and the creak of spars in the breeze that was kicking up whitecaps out beyond the headlands

Again the urge of far wandering tugged at his heart

But he did not go on to the wharves He reined aside and rode up a steep flight of wide, worn stone steps, to a broad street where ornate white mansions overlooked the waterfront and the harbor below Here dwelt the rown rich from the hard-won fat of the seas--a few old sea-captains who had found treasure afar, many traders and merchants who never trod the naked decks nor knew the roar of teht

Conan turned in his horse at a certain gold-worked gate, and rode into a court where a fountain tinkled and pigeons fluttered froed silken jupon and hose caly The h characters but e that a mercenary trooper should so freely ride into the court of a lord of commerce

'The merchant Publio dwells here?' It wasin the tie to doff his feather chaperon as he bowed and replied: 'Aye, so he does, e called a servitor, who ca to receive the stallion's rein

'Your auntlets and slapped the dust of the road from cloak and mail

'Aye, my captain Whorunted Conan 'I know the ell enough Bide you here'

And obeying that pere after Conan as the latter cli what connection his -man who had the aspect of a northern barbarian

Menials at their tasks halted and gaped open- the court and entered a broad corridor through which the sea-breeze swept Halfway down this he heard a quill scratching, and turned into a broad room whose many wide casements overlooked the harbor

Publio sat at a carved teakwood desk writing on rich parcholden quill He was a short man, with a massive head and quick dark eyes His blue robe was of the finest watered silk, tri a heavy gold chain

As the Ciesture of annoyance He froze in the host out of the past Unbelief and fear glimmered in his wide eyes

'Well,' said Conan, 'have you no word of greeting, Publio?'

Publio moistened his lips

'Conan!' he whispered incredulously 'Mitra! Conan! _Amra!_'

'Who else?' The Ciauntlets down upon the desk 'How man?' he exclaimed irritably 'Can't you at least offer me a beaker of wine? My throat's caked with the dust of the highway'