Part 5 (2/2)
”For the love of... now I'm supposed to know about boots?” He spread his hands. ”All right. All I know is one of them was wearing a pair of cavalryman's halfboots. His robe was caught on his stirrup leather so one showed.” His tone became sarcastic. ”Do you want to know what they looked like? Red, with some sort of serpent worked in the leather.
Strange, that, but there it is. And that, Conan, is every last thing I know about those accursed pilgrims. Will you satisfy my curiosity now?
What in the name of all the G.o.ds does a man like you want with pilgrims?”
”I'm seeking a religious experience,” Conan replied, sheathing his dagger. He left the merchant laughing till tears ran down his fleshy cheeks.
As Conan hurried across Shadizar to the stable where his horse was kept, he knew he was right. Not only the five bodies in casks told him, but also the Gate of the Three Swords. That gate let out to the northeast, toward the caravan route that ran from Khesron through the Kezankian Mountains to Sultanapur. Vendhya might only be a name to him, but he knew it was reached by leaving through the Gate of the Black Throne and traveling southeast through Turan and beyond the Vilayet Sea. As soon as he could put saddle to horse, he would be off through the Gate of the Three Swords after Velita, the pendants, and his ten thousand pieces of gold.
Chapter VI.
The man in field armor contrasted sharply with the others in Tiridates'
private audience chamber. From greaves over his halfboots to ring mail and gorget, his armor was plain and dark, so as not to reflect light when on campaign. Even the horsehair crest on the helmet beneath his arm was russet rather than scarlet. He was Haranides, a captain of cavalry who had risen without patron or family connections. Now the hawknosed captain was wondering if the rise had been worth it.
Of the four others in the ivory-paneled room, only two were worthy of note. Tiridates, King of Zamora, slouched on the Minor Throne-its arms were golden hunting leopards in full bound, the back a peac.o.c.k feathered in emeralds, rubies, sapphires and pearls-as if it were a tavern stool, a golden goblet dangling from one slack hand. His amethystine robe was rumpled and stained, his eyes but half-focused.
With his free hand he idly caressed the arm of a slender blonde girl who knelt beside the throne in naught but perfume and a wide choker of pearls about her swanlike neck. On the other side of the throne a youth, equally blonde and slender and attired the same, sulked for his lack of attention.
The other man worth marking, perhaps more so than the king, stood three paces to the right of the throne. Graying and stooped, but with shrewd intelligence engraved on his wizened face, he wore a crimson robe slashed with gold, and the golden Seal of Zamora on its emeralded chain about his neck. His name was Aharesus, and the seal had fallen to him with the death of Malderes, the previous chief king's counselor, the night before.
”You know why you are summoned, captain?” Aharesus said.
”No, my lord Counselor,” Haranides replied stiffly. The counselor watched him expectantly, until at last he went on. ”I can suspect, of course. Perhaps it has to do with the events of last night?”
”Very good, captain. And do you have any glimmering why you, instead of some other?”
”No, my lord Counselor.” And this time, in truth, he had not a flickering of an idea. He had returned to the city only shortly after dawn that very morning, coming back from duty on the Kothian border. A hard posting, but what could be expected for a man with no preferment?
”You are chosen because you were not in Shadizar this year past.”
Haranides blinked, and the counselor chuckled, a sound like dry twigs sc.r.a.ping together. ”I see your surprise, captain, though you conceal it well. An admirable trait in a military man. As you were not in the city, you could not be part of any... plot, involving those on duty in the palace last night.”
”Plot!” the captain exclaimed. ”Pardon, my lord, but the King's Own has always been loyal to the throne.”
”Loyalty to his fellows is another good trait for a military man, captain.” The counselor's voice hardened. ”Don't carry it too far.
Those who had the duty last night are even now being put to the question.”
Haranides felt sweat trickling down his ribs. He had no wish to join those men enjoying the attentions of the king's torturers. ”My lord knows that I've always been a loyal soldier.”
”I reviewed your record this morning,” Aharesus said slowly. ”Your return to the city at this juncture was like a stroke from Mitra. These are parlous times, captain.”
”Their heads,” the king barked abruptly. His head swung in a muddled arc between the captain and the counselor. Haranides was shocked to realize that he had forgotten the king was present. ”I want their heads on pikes, Aharesus. Stole my... my tribute from Yildiz. Stole my dancing girls.” Tiridates directed a bleary smile at the slave girl, then jerked his gaze back to Haranides. ”You bring them back to me, do you hear? The girls, the pendants, the casket. And the heads. The heads.” With a belch the king sagged back into a sodden lump. ”More wine,” he muttered. The blonde youth darted away and returned with a crystal vessel and a fawning smile.
The captain's sweating increased. It was no secret Tiridates was a drunkard, but being witness to it could do him no good.
”The insult to the honor of the king is, captain, paramount, of course,” Aharesus said with a careful glance at the king, who had his face buried in the goblet of wine. ”On a wider view, however, what must be considered is that the palace was entered and the Chief King's Counselor murdered.”
”My lord counselor-thinks that was the reason for it all, and the other just a screen?”
The Counselor gave him a shrewd look. ”You've a brain, captain. You may have a future. Yes, it makes no sense otherwise. Some foreign power wished the Counselor dead for some purpose of their own. Perhaps Yildiz himself. He has dreams of an empire, and Malderes often thwarted those plans.” Aharesus fingered the golden seal on his chest thoughtfully.
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