Part 10 (1/2)
The following night, Conan swaggered into his favorite tavern, that of Abuletes, in the Maul. The low, smoke-stained room stank of sweat and sour wine. At crowded tables, thieves and murderers drank ale and wine, diced, argued, sang, quarreled, and bl.u.s.tered. It was deemed a dull evening here when at least one customer was not stabbed in a brawl.
Across the room, Conan sighted his sweetheart of the moment, drinking alone at a small table. This was Semiramis, a strongly-built, black-haired woman several years older than the Cimmerian.
”Ho there, Semiramis!” roared Conan, pus.h.i.+ng his way across. ”I've got something to show you! Abuletes! A jug of your best Kyrian! I'm in luck tonight!”
Had Conan been older, caution would have stopped him from openly boasting of his plunder, let alone displaying it. As it was, he strode up to Semiramis' table and up-ended the leathern sack containing the seven great, green gems.
The jewels cascaded out of the bag, thumped the wine-wet table top-and crumbled instantly into fine green powder, which sparkled in the candlelight.
Conan dropped the sack and stood with his mouth agape, while nearby drinkers burst into raucous laughter.
”Crom and Mannanan!” the Cimmerian breathed at last. ”This time, it seems, I was too clever for my own good.” Then he bethought him of the jade serpent, still in the bag. ”Well, I have something that will pay for a few good carousals, anyway.”
Moved by curiosity, Semiramis picked up the sack from the table. Then she dropped it with a scream.
”It's-it's alive!” she cried.
”What-” began Conan, but a shout from the doorway cut him off :
”There he is, men! Seize him!”
A fat magistrate had entered the tavern, followed by a squad of the night watch, armed with bills. The other customers fell silent, staring woodenly into s.p.a.ce as if they knew nothing of Conan or of any of the other riffraff who were Abuletes' guests.
The magistrate pushed toward Conan's table. Whipping out his sword, the Cimmerian put his back against the wall. His blue eyes blazed dangerously, and his teeth showed in the candle light.
”Take me if you can, dogs!” he snarled. ”I've done nothing against your stupid laws!” Out of the side of his mouth, he muttered to Semiramis: ”Grab the bag and get out of here. If they get me, if's yours.”
”I-I'm afraid of it!” whimpered the woman.
”Oh-ho!” chortled the magistrate, coming forward. ”Nothing, eh? Nothing but to rob our leading citizens blind! There's evidence enough to lop your head off a hundred times over! And then you slew Nestor's soldiers and persuaded him to join you in a raid on the ruins of Larsha, eh? We found him earlier this evening, drunk and boasting of his feat. The villain got away from us, but you shan't!”
As the watachmen formed a half-circle around Conan, bills pointing toward his breast, the magistrate noticed the sack on the table.
”Whaf's this, your latest loot? Well see-”
The fat man thrust a hand into the sack. For an instant he fumbled.
Then his eyes widened; his mouth opened to emit an appalling shriek. He jerked his hand out of the bag. A jade-green snake, alive and writhing, had thrown a loop around his wrist and had sunk its fangs into his hand.
Cries of horror and amazement arose. A watchman sprang back and fell over a table, smas.h.i.+ng mugs and splas.h.i.+ng liquors. Another stepped forward to catch the magistrate as he tottered and fell. A third dropped his bill and, screaming hysterically, broke for the door.
Panic seized the customers. Some jammed themselves into the door, struggling to get out. A couple started fighting with knives, while another thief, locked in combat with a watchman, rolled on the floor.
One of the candles was knocked over; then another, leaving the room but dimly lit by the little earthenware lamp over the counter.
In the gloom, Conan caught Semiramis' wrist and hauled her to her feet.
He beat the panic-stricken mob aside with the flat of his sword and forced his way through the throng to the door. Out in the night, the two ran, rounding several corners to throw off pursuit. Then they stopped to breathe. Conan said:
”This city will be too cursed hot for me after this. I'm on my way.
Good-bye, Semiramis.”
”Would you not care to spend a last night with me?”
”Not this time. I must try to catch that rascal Nestor. If the fool hadn't blabbed, the law would not have gotten on my trail so quickly.