Part 10 (2/2)
He has all the treasure a man can carry, while I ended up with naught.
Maybe I can persuade him to give me half; if not-” He thumbed the edge of his sword.
Semiramis sighed. ”There will always be a hideout for you in Shadizar, while I live. Give me a last kiss.”
They embraced briefly. Then Conan was gone, like a shadow in the night.
On the Corinthian Road that leads west from Shadizar, three bowshots from the city walls, stands the fountain of Ninus. According to the story, Ninus was a rich merchant who suffered from a wasting disease. A G.o.d visited him in his dreams and promised him a cure if he would build a fountain on the road leading to Shadizar from the west, so that travelers could wash and quench their thirst before entering the city.
Ninus built the fountain, but the tale does not tell whether he recovered from his sickness.
Half an hour after his escape from Abuletes' tavern, Conan found Nestor, sitting on the curbing of Ninus' fountain.
”How did you make out with your seven matchless gems?” asked Nestor.
Conan told what had befallen his share of the loot ”Now,” he said, ”since-thanks to your loose tongue-I must leave Shadizar, and since I have none of the treasure left, it would be only right for you to divide your remaining portion with me.”
Nestor gave a barking, mirthless laugh. ”My share? Boy, here is half of what I have left.” From his girdle he brought out two pieces of gold and tossed one to Conan, who caught it. ”I owe it to you for pulling me away from that falling wall.”
”What happened to you?”
”When the watch cornered me in the dive, I managed to cast a table and bowl a few over. Then I picked up the bright stuff in my cloak, slung it over my back, and started for the door. One who tried to halt me I cut down; but another landed a slash on my cloak. The next thing I knew, the whole ma.s.s of gold and jewels spilled out on the floor, and everybody-watchmen, magistrate, and customers-joined in a mad scramble for them.” He held up the cloak, showing a two-foot rent in the fabric.
”Thinking that the treasure would do me no good if my head were adorning a spike over the West Gate, I left while the leaving was good.
When I got outside the city, I looked in my mantle, but all I found were those two coins, caught in a fold. You're welcome to one of them.”
Conan stood scowling for a moment. Then his mouth twitched into a grin.
A low laugh rumbled in his throat; his head went back as he burst into a thunderous guffaw. ”A fine pair of treasure-seekers we are! Crom, but the G.o.ds have had sport with us! What a joke!” Nestor smiled wryly. ”I am glad you see the amusing side of it. But after this I do not think Shadizar will be safe for either of us.”
”Whither are you bound?” asked Conan.
”I'll head east, to seek a mercenary post in Turan. They say King Yildiz is hiring fighters to whip his raggle-taggle horde into a real army. Why not come with me, lad? You're cut out for a soldier.”
Conan shook his head. ”Not for me, marching back and forth on the drill ground all day while some fatheaded officer bawls: ”Forward, march!
Present, pikes!' I hear there are good pickings in the West; I'll try that for a while.”
”Well, may your barbarous G.o.ds go with you,” said Nestor. ”If you change your mind, ask for me in the barracks at Aghrapur. Farewell!”
”Farewell,” replied Conan. Without further words, he stepped out on the Corinthian Road and soon was lost to view in the night.
The G.o.d in the Bowl -------------------.
Conan's grim adventures in the Tower of the Elephant and in the ruins of Larsha leave him with an aversion to the sorcery of the East. He flees northwestward through Corinthia into Nemedia, the second most powerful of the Hyborian kingdoms after Aquilonia. In the city of Numalia, he resumes his professional activities as a thief.
Arus the watchman grasped his crossbow with shaky hands and felt beads of clammy perspiration ooze out upon his skin, as he stared at the unlovely corpse that sprawled on the polished floor before him. It is not pleasant to come upon Death in a lonely place at midnight.
The watchman stood in a vast corridor lighted by huge candles set in niches along the walls. Between the niches, these walls were covered with black velvet wall-hangings, and between the hangings hung s.h.i.+elds and crossed weapons of fantastic make. Here and there, too, stood figures of curious G.o.ds-images carved of stone or rare woods, or cast in bronze, iron, or silver-dimly mirrored in the gleaming black floor.
Arus shuddered. He had never become used to the place, although he had worked there as watchman for some months. It was a fantastic establishment, the great museum and antique house that men called Kallian Publico's Temple, with its rarities from all over the world- and now, in the lonesomeness of midnight, Arus stood in the great silent hall and stared at the sprawling corpse that had been the Temple's rich and powerful owner.
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