Part 12 (1/2)

Chapter 6.

Close to the time that Wylla met Marr the Piper, Conan met King Eloikas's Palace Guard.

The caravan and Decius's men had camped for the night about double bowshot beyond a small village in the lee of a thickly forested ridge.

The village was inhabited, but it was hardly less ruined than the Dembi village where they had fought two days before.

The villagers' surly looks would have told Conan of years of hard living had their rough huts and scanty garb not done so. A few chickens and some half-ground barley were the best that Decius's coins could pry loose from them.

If this was the common run of folk in the Border realm, Conan decided, he was not going to profit much from it. King Eloikas's grat.i.tude would feed no horses and burnish no armor. That needed gold, something that the Border Kingdom seemed unlikely to offer.

So be it. Honor bound him to Raihna's side as long as she needed him.

He could contrive some other way of filling his purse or take his luck in Nemedia with an empty one. He had wrested gold out of poorer lands after entering them with no more than his sword and the clothes upon his back.

Conan was inspecting the sentries when the Palace Guard appeared.

Decius trusted the caravan men to share the watch with his men, but not Conan to keep a watch by himself. The Cimmerian had judged it best to hold his peace on the matter.

Decius's men were clearly masters of their craft. Conan was advising one of Raihna's archers to hide himself better when the wind had borne to the Cimmerian's ears the clatter of hooves and the thud of boots. He had waved both pairs of sentries into hiding, seen both obey, and strode up the path toward the sound.

A hiding place in the roots of a great gnarled oak offered itself.

Conan crouched there, cupped his hands, and hailed the newcomers.

”Halt! Who is there?”

”The Palace Guard, Captain Oyzhik commanding.”

”Advance and be recognized.”

Conan heard one of Decius's men scuttling off to summon his chief. He also heard the hooves and boots fade raggedly into silence.

The Cimmerian's keen night sight pierced the darkness. He recognized the royal banner, a sadly tattered one drooping from a crooked lance.

He also recognized a company that numbered a handful of veterans and a great many new recruits. He had seen enough of both in Turan to be able to tell the one from the other, even in the darkness.

The man who had replied, naming himself Captain Oyzhik, was also a type that Conan recognized. Too bald and too fat for his years, he wore fine armor and sat a horse worth as much as three of Decius's. But the armor was undented and the sword slung across his back showed gilding and jewels that could not have survived a single real battle.

”Captain Oyzhik,” Conan shouted. ”Captain-General Decius has been summoned. I ask you to hold where you are until he comes.”

”My men have traveled fast and far on urgent orders from the King's majesty,” Oyzhik replied. His voice was as round as the rest of him.

”They must have their shelter at once.”

Conan doubted that such a mob of old men and boys could have traveled fast or far had a G.o.d commanded it. Oyzhik no doubt wanted to get his plump a.r.s.e out of the saddle and into something more comfortable.

The Cimmerian laughed softly. Oyzhik had a surprise coming if he thought the caravan's camp offered what could be called ”comfort” in any tongue Conan knew.

The sound of a firm stride coming up the trail warned Conan that Decius was at hand. The Cimmerian rose to greet the captain-general, then fell behind him as Decius went to meet the Palace Guard.

”What brings you here, Oyzhik?” Decius asked.